The Chimera Secret

24

Natalie Warner pressed the button on her key fob and the lights of her Ford Taurus flashed briefly as she walked toward it. The bright sunshine was warm on her hair as she opened the door and climbed inside.

She pulled out of the lot slowly and eased the car out onto 3rd Street.

Fact was, she had no idea what she was doing. Natalie did not have the first clue about how a surveillance operation was run. It had been an instinctive decision to leave the Capitol and drive out of the district toward Maryland. Her reasoning was simple enough: if she was the subject of a surveillance operation then somebody would be following her.

Natalie felt an almost childlike sense of anticipation as she briefly scanned the handful of cars visible in her rear-view mirror as she cruised west on Madison, the nearby Washington Monument towering into the powder-blue sky. A dark-blue sedan, a silver GMC, two cyclists hugging the sidewalk and a glossy red Pontiac. She remembered watching cop shows shot on these very streets as secret agents sought to foil the impenetrable plans of unspeakably evil organizations bent on world domination.

The excitement waned as she reminded herself that this was the real world and that this surveillance, whatever the reason for it, was also just as real.

She drove up onto the Arlington Memorial Bridge, the Potomac glittering beneath the bright sunshine, and looked again in her mirror. The Pontiac was gone, as were the cyclists, left far behind. The silver GMC was still with her, and the blue sedan, two people inside it.

Interesting, but hardly a cause for concern. There was plenty of traffic flowing from the district across the Potomac. Ahead, the bridge descended down to a circular near the National Cemetery. Two lanes on the right headed north for the Memorial Parkway. The left lane was for traffic heading south on the Parkway or toward Fort Myer. Natalie stayed in the central lane and scanned her mirror.

The GMC loitered about four cars back in her lane. The sedan had taken the Fort Myer lane and was two cars back.

Natalie waited until the last moment, and then just before the lanes split from each other she switched lanes abruptly.

Behind her the GMC swerved to match her, tucking in behind a deli van with bright fruits emblazoned across its side.

Natalie’s previous excitement vanished, to be replaced with concern. The GMC was a slightly modified version with flared wheel arches and tinted windows, the kind of thing a college student might possess if he had too much money to blow.

She followed the circular round and headed down the Esplanade. The GMC stayed with her, three cars back. She took the first exit onto the switchback and joined the Jefferson Davis Highway headed south. The sedan had vanished. The GMC stayed with her, now the same distance behind but with only one car separating them until they hit the highway.

Natalie settled down into a steady cruise and watched carefully as the GMC matched her speed in the outside lane. It had closed on her slightly and moved into a position off her right that was hard to monitor without checking over her shoulder.

Paranoia prevented her from looking. If they guessed that she was onto them they might break off. She glanced ahead. Highway One crossed overhead less than a mile away and signs for Washington and Pentagon City showed for the next exit.

Natalie waited until the last possible moment before hitting her turn signal and switching lanes as she took the exit for Washington. Having come from the district, she was now heading straight back there. The chances of the GMC needing to do the same were unlikely in the extreme.

She checked her mirror as she rounded the switchback and joined the US-1 headed straight back toward the Potomac. The GMC didn’t show. Natalie joined the flow of traffic and wondered briefly if the whole thing had been just a waste of time and gasoline. By the time she made it back to the district again and got parked she would barely have time to grab something for lunch before she would be due back at her desk.

‘Dammit.’

She thumped the wheel and turned on her signal to change lane as she glanced in her mirror.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The dark-blue sedan was two cars back. She blinked, checked again. Same vehicle, same plate. Only the driver was alone now, his passenger gone. Natalie’s mind went into overdrive. The sedan had pulled off somewhere between the Esplanade and the switchback south for the Jefferson Davis Highway. It could have been someone dropping a work colleague home, or a friend to the metro, or just a family member who got out for a walk in the sunshine over the bridge. Anything. And now they were headed back to the district.

Natalie saw a truck cruising slowly in the inside lane ahead. On an impulse, she switched lanes and dropped in behind it as she grabbed her cellphone from the inside pocket of her jacket. Driving one-handed, she selected the cell’s camera and activated it as the now faster-moving sedan was forced by the flow of traffic to pass her. A Cadillac Catera, Virginia plates, child-seat in back, Virginia Cavaliers patch in the window.

As it cruised by, Natalie looked straight across at the driver.

Male, maybe in his forties. A long and angular face, short gray hair. Looking studiously ahead to avoid looking directly into the camera, the windows of the vehicle tinted enough to obscure detail. Natalie clicked the camera button as the sedan moved past, and then shot another picture of the tailgate. As she lowered the cell she saw the driver glance in his wing mirror as he cruised away in the faster flow.

She wasn’t imagining it, she knew. The guy was tailing her. Quite possibly two vehicles watching her, switching places to try and avoid being noticed. A new sense of anxiety swelled within her as she considered this. Two vehicles, multiple individuals, all dedicated to watching the every move of a lowly analyst at the Capitol.

She picked up her cell again and tapped a quick-dial number.

‘Ben Consiglio.’

‘It’s Natalie. I’m being followed, Ben.’

There was a long pause.

‘You sure about it, I mean, really sure?’

He didn’t sound convinced. She gripped the cell tighter.

‘Dammit, Ben, I’ve got pictures on my cell, I’m bringing them in.’

‘You took pictures? Jesus Christ, Natalie, you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘I just drove across the Potomac and back, came right round the switchback and they followed me the whole way. It’s too much of a coincidence, Ben.’

‘Holy crap,’ Ben whispered down the line. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Keep this to yourself, okay? I don’t want anybody to know about this until I’ve figured out what the hell’s going on.’

‘Okay.’

Natalie racked her brains for a moment, trying to think of a way forward.

‘Do you think that there’s some way we can figure out who’s behind this?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Y’know, track them down. Run the plates or something?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not a cop. I’d have to check if we can even legally do something like that.’

Natalie focused on the road ahead as she replied.

‘I’m pretty damned sure that it’s illegal and an invasion of privacy to monitor the movements of any American citizen without some kind of probable cause, regardless of what the Patriot Act says.’

There was a long silence down the line before Ben spoke again.

‘Let me see what I can do. Just get back here right now, okay? And don’t do anything else that might let them know you’re onto them. Just act normal.’

Natalie shut the cell off and drove across the Potomac, but instead of heading back to the office she took Ben’s advice and drove to her apartment. People didn’t just pop out for a drive in Washington’s busy traffic, so she pulled into her parking space and got out. A quick trip home to collect something, anything, and she could head back to the Capitol.

She opened her apartment door and hurried inside.

Then she stopped.

It wasn’t that she could tell instantly that something was wrong. It was more like a sixth sense, like the sensation of being watched. From where she stood she could see that there was nobody in the apartment with her, but her keen eye picked up on the dislodged rug in the center of the living room; the kitchen door not quite as open as she had left it; the pictures on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace at slightly off angles.

Somebody had been here while she was at work.