Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (19 page)

Relieved, Gerrit patted his leg, looking at the dogs. “Come on, guys. I snagged a couple pieces of Travis’s steak with your names on it.” He held them up for the dogs to see as he made his way to the stairs. They came bounding after him, tails wagging, eyeing the meat with hungry eagerness.

He climbed down the steps and walked a few yards down the gravel pathway when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw Alena following.

“Mind if I tag along? Needed to get away from Travis.”

Gerrit nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“He is a great guy. Helped us in the past when we needed assistance. But sometimes, he gets on my nerves.”

Gerrit bent down and let each dog have one of the chunks of meat. “Welcome the company. By the way, do you know where we’re going tomorrow?”

“Where we first met—San Francisco.”

“Why there?” He wiped his hands off and began walking down the path.

“That is where I live when I am not running around chasing you.” She smiled for a moment. “Seriously, we thought it best to relocate you there until things cool down. I am all set up and can provide a good cover for you while we start to fill in your backside.”

“Backside?”

“You know, the story about your fake past.”

“Oh. You mean
backstory
?”

“Whatever you Americans call it. Anyway, Joe and Willy—you haven’t met him yet—will recreate your past with a new name, ID, the whole thing. Make you a new person.”

“What name should I use?”

Alena stopped for moment, looking into his eyes. “I like the name David. David from the Bible.”

“Why him?”

She came alongside as they neared the river. “He was a warrior, a leader of men. And he was very brave—like you, Gerrit.”

“I’m not a brave man, Alena.”

She took his arm for moment. “You forget. I have been watching you for more than seven years. I know just about everything there is to know about you. I say you are a David.”

Suddenly her closeness made him feel uncomfortable. He never let anyone get close before. His first inclination was to back away. Build a wall. “You know everything about me? Like what?”

Alena just smiled. “Come on, I think the dogs want to go for a swim.”

“What is your last name?”

“Shapiro. Alena Shapiro.”

“That a Russian name?”

She nodded. “A Russian
Jewish
name.”

“How did a Russian Jewish woman wind up in San Francisco working with my uncle?”

Her eyes darkened as if she suddenly pulled down a curtain. “A long story, Gerrit.”

“Give me the
Reader’s Digest
version.”

“
Reader’s Digest
? What is this?”

“I mean, just give me a brief story about how you met.”

She took a deep breath. “It is not a happy one. When I was about nineteen years old, my parents finally obtained a visa to Israel for all three of us. A lifetime dream of theirs and they wanted to get me out of Russia. We resettled in that country and I had an opportunity to go to school. When I was twenty-two years old and serving in the Israeli army, my parents took a trip to visit my father’s brother in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1994. My relatives were showing my family around the city, including the AMIA building.”

Gerrit looked at her sharply. “Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina? I remember the incident.”

She nodded, eyes downcast. “I’m impressed. You even have the pronunciation right.”

He shrugged. “What can I say. It’s a gift…or a curse. My memory.”

Sadness washed over her. She closed her eyes, and words seemed to catch in her throat. “Eighty-five people killed, including my folks. The handiwork of Hezbollah and the Iranian government.”

“I’m sorry, Alena. I shouldn’t pry.”

She angrily wiped away a tear. “Sometimes it feels like it happened years ago. And I have been at war ever since. Other times, like right now, I close my eyes and I feel like it just—”

He saw she could not continue. He knew not to dig any further. “Loved ones can leave a hole in your soul that can never be filled,” he said, quietly.

She nodded. “Time and God may heal the soul, but scars will always be there—never letting you forget.”

They walked in silence to the river’s edge, the swollen Clearwater River running swiftly past their feet as evening shadows fell. An arctic chill swept down the canyon as winter let them know another snowstorm might be coming their way. Spring was a long way off.

As dusk settled, a momentary sense of peace descended, as if the land and the river promised shelter from the pending storm. The forest around them seemed quiet and content, ignoring winter’s threat.

Both dogs stood with their paws planted in the water, listening to something Gerrit could not hear. There was an inquisitive look in Bones’s eyes as he turned and stared at Gerrit for a moment. Then the dog turned and dashed upstream against the ice-cold current, Sam running to keep up.

Lewiston-Nez Perce County Airport, Idaho

A
Cessna Citation XLS taxied off the runway toward their waiting cars at the edge of the tarmac. Frank leaned against the driver’s door, arms crossed, watching the pearl-white business jet draw near. “Holy cow, Joe. You guys know how to travel.”

His uncle extended a hand to Frank.

“Thanks again. Tell Jessie and Travis to stop fooling around and get hitched. You need to have some grandchildren running around before you get too much older.”

Frank grinned, eyed Gerrit and Alena gathering their things. “You know how it is, Joe. Can’t tell these kids anything nowadays.”

Gerrit walked over and shook the man’s hand. “Thank Travis again for taking care of Bones. I don’t know where I’m going to end up. I hope to come get the dog when I’m settled somewhere.”

Frank nodded as they watched the plane draw near. They both knew that time might never come.

The jet’s engines powered down, and a door cracked open to allow passengers to enter. Joe followed Gerrit and Alena up the stairway, waving back at Frank before he disappeared inside. “Okay, let’s get this thing off the ground.”

Gerrit waited for Joe to get into the cabin. “Very ritzy! Who owns this plane?”

“Don’t ask and I won’t have to tell you no lies. Let’s just say I have friends in high places.”

Joe walked forward to the cockpit as Gerrit found a seat near a starboard window and settled in. As he eased back to get comfortable, a giant of a man squeezed from the cockpit and lumbered into the passenger quarters toward him. A teardrop tattoo under the man’s left eye and a neck embroidered with prison tattoos of black and blue ink made Gerrit wonder if he’d stumbled onto a
Con Air
movie set. The man’s biceps bulged from a short-sleeved T-shirt, and when he stooped to whisper something to Alena, his neck muscles rippled as if they wanted to climb out of his skin.

Alena kissed his cheek, then turned to Gerrit. “Let me introduce our pilot, Hank ‘Redneck’ Schneider.” She turned toward the giant. “And Redneck, you already met Gerrit at his house the other night.”

Redneck gave him a studied nod. “How’s the ol’ noggin, copper? Knock any sense into you yet?”

“You’re the guy who dumped—”

“The dead guy on your bed. That’s me, jarhead.”

Gerrit heard a flush and glanced up to see a lavatory door open. Redneck muttered, “Here’s my gutless copilot, Willy Williams. Wesley Snipes he ain’t.” A young man about the size of one of Redneck’s thighs emerged, his ebony skin looking ashen.

“Lost your lunch again I see.” The white giant smirked. “Get belted up, Willy, we’re about to take off. Joe will help me this time.”

Willy sank into the nearest chair and nodded a greeting to Gerrit. “Can you believe Joe would trust this plane to the likes of him?” Willy and Redneck exchanged glances as Alena leaned forward.

“Okay, boys. Play nice. We have company.”

Redneck was about to respond when Joe yelled back, “Come on back here. Let’s get this thing fired up.” Redneck turned and squeezed back inside the cockpit. Gerrit wondered how the man fit in that small space. A moment later, the engines came to life.

Willy smiled. “Don’t let that giant pea brain get to you, Mr. G. It’s just his way. You ought to see him when he gets down and dirty.”

“Mr. G?” Gerrit frowned.

“Oh, that’s how I’m going to keep you and Joe apart. You know, Mr. G for Gerrit O’Rourke and Mr. J for…well, you can figure it out, right?” Willy looked out the window and saw they were taxiing to the runway. “Oh, boy, here we go again. I’m glad Mr. J has the controls again. Redneck thought he would play a trick on me on our way down here. Rolled the plane over a couple times because he knows I hate flying. I felt like capping his—Sorry, Alena. I try to talk polite when you’re around.” Willy appeared nervous. “I can’t wait to get my feet back on the ground.”

Alena stifled a laugh. “You know, Willy, air travel is safer than car travel. And Mr. J will have us back to the city in no time. Why don’t you try to take a nap?”

“Take a nap with Redneck at the controls? You gotta be kidding.” He reached over and grabbed a laptop from the seat next to him.

“Got to wait until we are in the air, Willy.” Alena smiled again. “Mr. J is at the controls now. He’ll keep our gentle giant from any more tricks. Trust me.”

Willy raised one eyebrow. “I do trust you, Alena. I just hope Mr. J can control that jerk.” He plugged in an iPod, inserted the earplugs, and leaned back, closing his eyes.

She turned to Gerrit. “As you can see, we are one big family. Well, what do you think of the team?”

“The team?” Gerrit leaned closer. “These are the guys you depend on?”

Her eyes softened. “With my life. Do not let looks deceive you. They would die for each other at a moment’s notice—you just cannot tell it by the way they interact.”

“So are you…kind of like their mother?”

She looked at Willy, his head back, eyes closed, keeping time to whatever beat he was listening to. “More like their older sister.”

“And Joe?”

“He’s the glue that keeps us together.”

The aircraft cleared the runway and banked toward the rising sun. “You know, statistically you’re wrong about air travel.”

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He glanced out the window and saw where the Clearwater and Snake rivers joined together far below, the Snake creating a blue-green line between the cities of Lewiston and Clarkston.

“Airline companies always spout that traveling by air is three times safer than railroads and five times safer than cars, but their statistics are highly skewed. Did you know that 70 percent of the crashes take place on takeoff and landing, which is only 4 percent of the average trip?”

“That still sounds like it might be safer to travel by car,” she said. “Would it not?”

He looked at her, shaking his head. “A more realistic figure is to compare fatalities in these accidents by the number of journeys made. If you factor deaths per 100 million passenger trips, it’s a much different picture—2.7 death by railroad, 4.5 by vehicles, and 55.0 by aircraft.”

“Really?” She squinted at him. “Are you making this up?”

“Nope. By my stats, you’re twelve times more likely to crash in the air compared to riding in a car; twenty times more likely to die on a plane than taking a train. Makes you think twice, doesn’t it?”

“Well, don’t tell Willy any of this,” she said, studying him. “He’ll never fly again.”

“Speaking of your siblings, tell me about Redneck and Willy. I just can’t see those two working together.”

“They fight like brothers, and no one ever wins.” She leaned back on the headrest and turned her face toward him. “I came across Willy in San Francisco, a place called Hunters Point.”

“I’m familiar with the city. A lot of gang activity when I saw it last.”

“Those living in the Point have always been promised a lot by the politicians over the years, but the promises always turn up empty. Willy was born and raised on those streets, never knowing his father and his mother barely keeping the family together. He was a smart kid, though, and attracted the attention of gang leaders. He was wearing colors and banging when I first saw him.”

“How did that happen?”

“I was mentoring kids through our church, tutoring them on subjects they were struggling with in school. Caught Willy trying to steal one of our computers.”

“You had him arrested?”

Her eyes twinkled. “It took me about two seconds to realize this guy has a razor-sharp mind. I made a deal with him. I’d let him use our computers if he’d help the other kids with their homework and continue with his education. He picked up math and science like a sponge. It was amazing to watch. Got him enrolled in a community college class to learn about information technology—programming languages, computer software and hardware, cyber security. I already knew Joe, and the two of them were a natural fit. He taught Willy IT programs and security systems the college never dreamed of. Willy soaked it up and now runs their company.”

“Runs whose company?” Gerrit glanced over at Willy and saw he was listening to their conversation.