Caged Eagles (21 page)

“I'm going to go take a shower. You guys have fun building stuff.” She waved her hand carelessly at the pile of wood before leaving the room. Forrest watched her go and turned to Trevor.

“She hates me.”

“Brandi hates everyone.”

“Not you.”

“Evans, be glad she hates you. I would trade with you any time you want. Anyway,” Trevor gave Forrest two pieces of wood to hold, “it doesn't matter what she thinks. It's what the baby thinks.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't possibly think of a better father.”

“Thanks.”

They finished gluing the remaining boards together and turned to replace the missing hinges. Forrest told Trevor he had better make sure Brandi didn't load the cabinets up too much or the boards might break again. Trevor was sure the warning wouldn't matter. Brandi didn't listen and she was stubborn.

Trevor remembered why Forrest had come and changed the subject. “So what is going on?”

“I came to talk to you about Gomez.”

“What about the old man?”

“I have kept this to myself for a really long time, but do you think he can be trusted?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“He's gone a lot.”

“Yeah, he's doing stuff for Blaine. Last I heard he had found all the target spots Blaine wants to hit.”

Forrest handed Trevor screws and remained silent as he drilled them into place. The tool squealed and screamed as it drove the golden fastener into place. Forrest covered his ears to muffle the sound. The sawdust falling away from the cabinet smelled like a freshly cut tree.

“When are the hits going to happen?”

“Blaine told me last week that he is planning the hit for the first Friday, next month.”

“Why then? That's only two weeks away?”

Trevor opened the cabinet and placed the board inside. “He feels we're prepared thanks to Donovan's and Laney's hard work before his escape. He wants Saturday and Sunday so the government's guard is down. They'll be preparing for a long weekend, not a war.”

“Do you realize we are about to bomb our own country, become terrorists?”

“We are not terrorists. We don't want to harm others, but we want this country to change. It's past time we get our freedoms back.”

“I know …”

“What's wrong? Do you want your daughter to grow up in a world like this?”

“No.”

“None of us wanted it to come down to this. I would much rather sit down with a mug of beer and talk things over, but it wouldn't work. We need to get people's attention. Let those out there like Leslie realize that we are tired of how things are being run. On the other side of this, we need to let people like Sarah know that we are ready for a change and need their help.”

“You have a lot of guts, Wells.”

“Yeah, I know.” Trevor laughed heartily, but recovered and became somber again. “So where did this all come from?”

“Just talking with Sarah.”

“Oh yeah?” Trevor began to place all the dried boards in the cabinets. Forrest stepped out of Trevor's way.

“Don't worry, she isn't going anywhere. She'll stand by you throughout this entire thing.”

“I know, I couldn't be luckier.”

“I only say that because she is a great person to talk with.”

“Yeah, she is.”

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The sweet aroma drifted throughout the office. Leslie bent to smell the newest flower, a pink rose, in her collection. It was a small improvement from Trevor's previous attentions toward her. Without fail each day it was a different flower with a different message. Sometimes it was a smiley face, other times a quick note scrawled across the small card in his squiggly left-hand writing. There were always funny jokes or corny pickup lines. She shook her head reading today's quote. No, nothing was serious with that man. She set it on her desk and admired it for a few more moments before turning back to her paperwork.

She began shifting through her mail. Nothing of great interest caught her eye until she had reached the bottom. A letter from the State Department of Corrections. They had written back in response to her letter about Blaine Martin. In shock, she dropped the letter. They informed her that he was still in the East Denver Rehabilitation Center!

She pulled his file closer and began reading through it again. He had been arrested and placed in rehab because he had tried to commit terrorist actions against the country. She turned to her computer and found an article online dating to the week he had been detained. It said that many of his followers had not been caught. Some had though, and were placed in rehabs across the country. Something didn't match up.

She dialed the phone number on the letterhead before her. After pressing a combination of numbers to reach assistance, she had finally stayed on the line long enough for the computer to ramble off a list of names and personal extensions. She didn't hear the name she was searching for so she pushed “star” for additional aid. An actual person picked up the line this time.

“Can I please speak to Lula Dell?”

The young woman on the other end stuttered and fumbled through her list of contacts. There was no one by the name of Lula Dell working in any facilities of Corrections. Leslie thanked her and hung up the phone. She leaned back in her chair, thinking.

The cunning woman in Dr. Lundstrom's office had broken Blaine out. She picked up the phone again and called her superior's office. Did he still have the file of paperwork the woman had brought with her? He didn't, she had taken it. She hung up the phone and called down to reception. She asked the woman for the date of Lula Dell's visit–late August. Miss Dell must have had some type of help. Leslie asked if anyone new had been hired in the week leading up to that day. There had been and two new janitors quit the day Miss Dell came. A wave of shock ran through Leslie. Who was Lula Dell? She had no way of finding out. She must have been one of Blaine Martin's supporters, as were the two janitors. It was pointless to investigate any of them. They would have all given false information.

Leslie picked up her pen and grabbed a piece of scratch paper to write down what she had figured out. She had a block and found herself writing Trevor's name for a distraction. This got her thinking of their conversations since his release.

Right away he'd skipped town and gone to Alaska. The first time he called they had discussed Blaine Martin. Trevor had suggested she give him a letter. After his return, he'd convinced her to give Mr. Martin another letter. Another wave of shock, stronger than the one before, shot through her. The letters were coded, they had to be! Every time she'd talked with Trevor, the subject of Blaine or Brandi had come up. After Blaine escaped Trevor had stopped asking about him. Cold tremors ran through her body, an invisible hand seemed to be clamped around her throat. She gasped for breath, unable to move. Trevor was living with Brandi now! The baby was his, he had known about it the entire time, and he was helping Blaine! He had been the outside source used to inform Blaine what was going on.

“He used me,” she said out loud to herself. “He used me to help Blaine.”

She slumped over her desk. What about Tobian Morrison and Forrest Evans? Why would Trevor find Tobian if he was having a baby with Brandi? Brandi must have agreed to help him; she'd been with him all along. They had both played her for a fool.

“Tobian … Tobian …” she said out loud, in hopes it would help. Leslie typed, “Tobian Morrison” into the main search engine of her computer. On the screen she saw “A Plea for Help” as the headline. Normally she would have ignored the article but the picture of the young woman caught her attention.

“No!”

She whispered, grabbing the mouse to click on the article. Ice ran through her nerves. It was Lula Dell! She read that her parents were looking for her; her name was Tobian Sarah Morrison. Nearly all the pieces had fallen together. Trevor was with Brandi; they had both played her to get Blaine out of rehab. Tobian Morrison might have been Trevor's girlfriend at one point but now she wasn't–now she was helping Blaine. Forrest Evans was most likely helping too, considering he was Trevor's best friend. They were probably planning the next attacks on the country. Only one person could tell her if she was right–Sodi Hall.

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Trevor strolled into the chilly park and sat down on a bench. The leaves from the trees surrounding him fell to the ground and the trees would be bare within another month. The final blaze of orange, red, and yellow garnished nature before winter's dead hand smothered it.

He was aware of Sarah's presence before she came around the edge of the bench. Her feet crunched dying leaves to dust. It was mid afternoon, so the sun warmed the couple huddled on the bench. They had decided to meet secretly. For one, Sarah's parents were still looking for her; two, Brandi had gone shopping; and three, they wanted a private conversation.

“How's the baby?”

Trevor kissed her numb lips, “Good.”

“Good, everyone is okay.” She pulled the hat down around her head and burrowed down next to him. ”Blaine wants you to come to the meeting tonight. He is sending Forrest to watch Brandi.”

“Good idea, she can't be trusted to be left alone for five minutes.”

“Laney offered.”

“Yes, but she is needed in the meeting, and we want Brandi and the baby to live to see tomorrow.”

Sarah giggled and said, “True, Laney has no patience for that woman.”

“What is the meeting about tonight?”

“The hits Blaine set up for Friday.”

“Exactly a week away.” Trevor took a deep breath and looked around at his surroundings. It was a beautiful fall day; life was so peaceful in this moment. He knew when he left the park things would never again be the same. He didn't know when next he would be able to hold Sarah in his arms, in public, without a care in the world. He had come a long ways from the man he had been in rehab. He had become responsible! He laughed to himself at the thought.

Sarah noticed his chest move with laughter, “What?”

“Just realizing how much has changed in the last year.”

“I know, it's hard to believe.”

“We will have to go into hiding until the war breaks out; at least if Blaine gets his way.”

Sarah uttered, “I know,” so softly that Trevor almost didn't hear her. He looked down into her face, seeing her eyes staring off at something in the distance. She was in another place. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. If he was to die for Blaine it didn't matter. He would die seeing Sarah's face, as it was right then in his mind.

“Sarah.”

“Yes.”

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” she popped out of her trance. She looked so beautiful, innocent, and angelic in that moment.

“Will you promise to marry me?”

“Yes, of course I will.” She placed both hands on his face and kissed him firmly on the lips. After she pulled away he stretched to reach for the small box in the bottom of his coat pocket. He had forgotten he had put it in there, hidden from Brandi, until that moment. He had not planned to ask Sarah, but the moment couldn't have been planned better. He opened the velvet box. For the first time Sarah was awestruck and her mouth became a perfect round circle.

“I got this from Ava Carr, the woman Forrest and I helped before coming to Alaska. She said to give it to the love of my life. I can't read the future, I don't know what will happen, or even when we will get married; but I want to give this to you now because I love you. If I die I want to make sure you know that you have been the only woman I've ever thought of or loved. If I leave this earth, this ring gives me comfort because I know you have my love one hundred percent. That will never die, Sarah; I will love you into eternity.” He tugged at the glove on her hand and placed the ring on her long slender finger. “As far as I'm concerned I don't need a ceremony. You are my wife and I am your husband right here under the free sky of the world, universe, and heavens. I give you every part of me right here, right now.”

“I love you,” Sarah had tears in her eyes, but her voice was clear. “My words aren't as great as yours were, but I love you. That's what matters. I will be your wife from this moment on, and you will be my husband.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. They continued to kiss as the wind picked up, leaves landed on their coats and one in Sarah's hair, but they didn't care.

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Blaine stood at the head of the room. This would be the final meeting before his plans of action took place. He didn't like the idea of having speaker phones so others could hear, but it was important. He needed all his people to hear his final speech tonight. Donovan had made sure everything was secure. He stepped over to the whiteboard and wrote the date he would change American lives and make history. Blaine nodded for Donovan to turn the speakers on and he cleared his throat to silence the room. Thousands of people were now listening to him from all over the country. This time things would work, so now he was nervous to speak. Soon he was in the flow of his speech and nothing could stop him.

“The designated points have been renamed. They are as follows,” he pointed at a map, running each hand to the spot he had chosen. “One, Two, and Three. Those of you at One and Three must wait for contact from point Two. I will be at point Two and I will give the command. Points One and Three must be ready to execute the plans within seconds of my order. Point Three has informed me they are ready, and Point One will be once a couple of complications are fixed. I want all three to occur at the same time. After they have, I want people to get out as soon as possible, drawing no attention to themselves. I also want people to get out if something goes wrong. No risk is worth a life. Everyone will be notified of the next step within forty-five minutes after the bombings. If anything should go wrong, you all know the contact people for your areas.”

Blaine continued to discuss his plans for the next hour, running over everything to make sure all possible problems were addressed and dealt with. Everything had to be as close to perfect as possible. This time, he thought, things had to go right.

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It was Wednesday morning. People brushed the sleep from their eyes and forgot about their dreams; it was time for another day of trivial work. Businesses were opening gradually all over the city. The closer the hour came to eight o'clock the more traffic congested the roads. People grew frustrated stuck at red lights and morning traffic accidents. Those most unfortunate hoped they would miss the eight-o'clock staff meeting they hadn't prepared for.

One such person, Leslie Taylor, remained calm, pushing the buttons on the steering wheel to change the music in her car. She wasn't troubled over missing her morning appointment because she didn't have one scheduled. Instead, she had taken the first two hours of work off that morning to go see Sodi Hall. She had never officially met the man before. The receptionist had said he would be in that morning for an hour or two. The only worry on her mind was how elusive he was.

The analogy of water came to her mind. Yes, Sodi Hall was like water– transparent, cool, dangerous, yet peaceful, and impossible to catch unless cornered. That is what she planned to do this morning, corner him. She knew he was somewhere in the official government building in the heart of the city, but nothing else was known. A terrible thought entered her head—what if he was really a she? Voice covers were simple to place on a telephone. That would explain exactly why he, maybe she, had never officially met Leslie.

She pulled into a parking garage and shut the E.V. off. It didn't take long to get across the street and inside the building. Security guards were everywhere. One came up to her.

“May I have some identification and reasons why you are here?”

“Yes, I am a counselor down at East Denver Rehabilitation. I am here to see Sodi Hall about private matters I should not divulge.”

“I need further proof before I can allow you upstairs.”

“I have his business card and call history in my phone,” she held both items up.

“Ms. I'm sorry but ….” Another man's arrival cut the security guard off. He had dark hair, but his sunglasses and baseball cap kept Leslie from seeing his face.

“Good morning, officer. Dr. Taylor is with me, here is the proof you wished for.”

“Thank you,” he let them both pass. The man grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the elevators. She felt her heartbeat quicken but continued to allow the man to direct her.

“Are you coming to see Mr. Hall?” he asked her.

“I don't know if I should tell you.”

“Dr. Taylor.” His voice told her he would find out by any means necessary.

“Yes, I am.”

“He is on the eighth floor.”

He left her standing alone at the elevator.

The doors closed again and lifted her up and away from the mysterious man. The thought came to her mind–what if she had just met him? He had known who she was and asked whom she was looking for before disappearing. Maybe he went to warn Sodi Hall. No, why would he need to do that? She felt very much like a spy herself at that moment. It was thrilling and scary at the same time.