Honor Thy Mother & Thy Father Ch. 02

William laughed when he read that portion of the instructions. Mother and daughter must have had a very close relationship to be able to discuss something that intimate. He could not have been happier for them. He typed in 'mathematician' as his user id. Then he typed in 'linguine' as his password. He could not believe he did that.

The page opened, and he saw his daughter for the first time. She said, "Hello Papa, I wish this could be in person, but for right now, this is safer for both of us. I could not allow you to commit a crime. I do not want you to be in jail, before we have a chance to get to know one another. My mother told me what a wonderful person you were, and are. I will not let that change. Please hide yourself the best you can. Believe me when I say everything is under control. I am working with the authorities, and soon, possibly very soon, many of the heads five families will be in jail, or running for cover. I cannot tell you how I know, because that would put you in greater danger, because of the letter you sent to Don Bruno. This site will go down, until 6 PM next Sunday. Look for it then, and I will have further instructions for you. Please stay safe. I love you, and so did my mother. Patricia.

He could not close the page. He kept looking at the picture of his daughter. He was looking at a compilation of Laura and himself. Laura's beautiful face stared back at him, while Patricia had his skin coloring and hair. My God, she was beautiful. He would do as she asked, he would hide. Where could he go; where could you hide in this country, where no one would recognize you, and be safe. The FBI always had people in the witness protection program hide plan in Arizona or New Mexico. He would go to Arizona, because it had more mountains to hide in. However, where in Arizona was the question. He Goggled up a map of the state, and realized there was only one major airport to fly into, and out of, "Phoenix." Where would you go from there? There were only three major roadways into and out of that area; and all three-escape routes could be easily covered, because the escape routes to the south, east, and west were through flat desert country. Interstate 17 to the North took you into the rugged mountain country towards Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon area. The smaller state roads took you through mountainous areas, much like those by his home in Italy. They had steep fall-offs and low speed limits.

As he read a larger scaled portion of the map, he decided it would not be prudent to try to hide in the city of Phoenix. He decided to try to disappear in a tourist destination. Would it be Scottsdale, Sedona, or the Grand Canyon area? Scottsdale was very close to the Phoenix airport and he could hide in the suburbs, if he had to. It was a good option, but not optimal.

Sedona was better, but the ingress and egress were still a problem. The tourist mecca was in the middle of nowhere. It had plenty of mountainous terrain, and state parks to get lost in. It was a mecca for Buddhist on religious retreats. Large sanctuaries and statues to the God were abundant in the area, and many times during the year, hotel rooms were impossible to get.

People from many faiths, or none at all, went to the "Enchanted Areas of the Navajo Indians," where they believed Vortexes could cleanse their bodies, minds, and souls of the physical pollution, and mental excesses of the outside world. The town, itself, was filled with these excesses, but no one seemed to mind them. It was, also, a mecca for the rich and famous, whose homes were built on a grand scale. The very rich, and powerful, also built a private airport, so they could fly into town, on their private jets. Regular folks were not allowed to land their aircraft there.

Flagstaff, and the Grand Canyon area were great options, but the problem was egress. There were only two ways in, and two ways out. One way was to Las Vegas and that was not an option. The other way was back towards Flagstaff; and US 17, using the fabled old Route 66. From there Interstate 17 only went south; a four-lane state road continued north through the mountains. Interstate 40 went East past Winslow, and the meteor crater, to Albuquerque, New Mexico, 324 miles away. You had to be careful not to run out of fuel, or get a flat tire, because help was a long distance away in either direction. Going West on Interstate 40 you had the same problem. You could go all the way to San Diego, but your first major stop on the way, was in Barstow, California, 355 miles away, across mountains and deserts. If fate was not on your side going west, you were in big trouble, again.

William Zabo was not looking for trouble; he was looking for anonymity. He decided to become a Buddhist. He made a reservation at the Enchanted Resort and Spa, in Sedona. He asked for his bungalow to be at the very top of the resort, which was built into the side of a mountain. If he saw trouble coming, he could get lost in the mountains, directly behind his rooms. His only limitations were the amount of water, and food he would be able to carry, while he was in the backcountry. He would need camping equipment, hiking boots and warm weather gear; just like at home, in Italy.

He also needed a car, and he was partial to his Range Rover. He called ahead to a dealership, and asked them what they had in a used two, or three-year-old Rover. They told him what they had and gave him a price on each. He did not haggle with them. He told him he wanted it completely tuned and checked out, from insignia to tailpipe, before he got there. He wired them a deposit, and told manager, if there were anything wrong with the car, when he picked it up, he would own the dealership by the end of the month. He had no idea that Sedona was only 19 miles from Cottonwood. He had no idea that Cottonwood had any significance in his plans. He did not even make note of it, on the Google map. He did not realize how wrong he was.

8. The Package

Alan Robbins was in the middle of getting laid, again, when his cell- phone rang. It was the sergeant. "Where are you Alan?"

"I am at Susan Knight's place, taking a riding lesson."

"Well, get out of the saddle, and get over here. I have a package for you from FBI headquarters, and it is marked urgent. Tell Susan I am sorry."

Allen said, "Fuck!"

Susan laughed and said, "That is what we were doing."

"Not anymore, babe, I have a package, from the Bureau, waiting for me at the Public Safety Building, and it is marked urgent. The Bureau wants me to do something, and if they want me to do it; it is either illegal, immoral, or they could not get anyone else to do it. I am low man on the totem pole, and shit rolls downhill."

"Will you be coming back?"

"Wild horses could not keep me away."

"I do not have any wild horses."

"Okay, tame horses could not keep me away."

"That is much better, Alan, I like that much better."

"Keep my side of the bed warm for me, please."

"I will try, but it will not be the same, without you here."

"I swear, Susan, I will be back." He kissed her, took a quick shower, and dressed as he ran to his Dodge.

When he arrived at the Public Safety building, the sergeant came out and threw the package at him. He said, "How was today's riding lesson?"

Alan laughed and replied, "Very bumpy, but my mount was extremely excitable."

The sergeant laughed at the delicate way Alan circumvented answer him. "I would not open that package here, if I were you. There are too many eyes that would die to have a peek at what is inside it; including mine."

He walked around the block to his home away from home, and opened the file. His first reaction was, "Holy Shit, what could they be asking me to do now?" Emblazoned on the interior envelope was,

"For Your Eyes Only; Burn after Reading."

He opened the second envelope:

FROM THE DESK OF THE DIRECTOR

To: Special Agent Alan Robbins

File: Top Secret

Expect a package to be delivered at the Prescott Airport, no later than 0100 hours, Thursday next. All items necessary, will be delivered. Follow GPS coordinates exactly, we need package intact. The Bureau will not acknowledge any involvement with your actions. If you are caught with this package, you will be charged with involvement in a criminal activity. The Bureau will deny any knowledge of your activities.

We will help in your defense, due to mental defect caused by your last assignment and divorce. Do not get caught; this is of the highest priority. Defend package at the cost of your life, if necessary. Leave package, only to obtain food, water and other supplies.

Michael Free - Director

Alan reread the letter and thought, "Do I keep this letter as a get out of jail free card, or do I follow orders, and burn it? What kind of question is that Alan? You fucked up big time, and they kept you on, because you were good at your job. They want you back. If you fuck up this time, you are out of the Bureau for life?"

He picked up the large envelope and put everything else inside it. He brought it over to the gas stove, and lit the envelope, until it was an inferno. He dropped it in to a trashcan and watched, until everything had turned into cinders. He brought it into the bathroom and flushed the remnants down the toilet, until all of the evidence was gone. He cleaned out the basket, leaving no trace evidence at all.

He cleaned out the Dodge, not knowing how much room the package would take up, and what ancillary items might go with it. He had the oil changed, transmission checked, and the four-wheel-drive looked over. Everything was in working order. All he had to do now was worry. He had 3 days to do that. He went back to Susan, and loved her as best he could.

Susan knew something was different, but she did not pry. They rode their horses, during the morning hours; and each other for the rest of the day.

At lunch, on Wednesday, Alan told her he might not see her for some time, but he could not explain to her the reason why. It was business, and not another woman. He would contact her, when he was able, and he would see her as soon as humanly possible. He did one more thing before he left. He said, "Susan, some people may try to coerce you into telling them where I am, because they will know of our relationship. I need to give you a code word to alert me to the fact that you are in trouble. If I call you, and you are fine say, "Hello Alan." If you are in trouble, or people are listening in to the phone call say, "Hello, my love." I will know the difference, and I will try to get help to you as soon as possible. Do you understand what I am asking you to do?"

"Yes, Alan, I understand completely."

"You can tell them, when I left here, I went to Prescott to pick up a package, and that is the only thing that you know. I did not say anything else, except goodbye."

"Thank you, Alan; I know you cannot say that you love me, because of what has happened to you in the past. However, in the short time I have known you; I know in my heart that I love you more than any other man I have ever met."

"Susan, I will talk to you about that, when this thing is over. Goodbye, babe; I will see you, when I see you"

Alan called Jeff's cell phone to see if his new computers were in.

Jeff asked, "Where the hell have you been? No one has seen hide or hair of you for 10 days."

"Very funny Jeff; you set me up, and you know it. Riding lessons hell, you did not tell me what I would be riding."

"Hell of a ride isn't she Alan?"

"Yes, she is Jeff, and before I left today, she said those 3 little words."

"Oh shit, I did not see that coming. You must have made quite an impression on her. She hasn't been with many men, since her husband went to jail, and she is very picky."

"Should I shoot you now, or wait until after I pick up my computers."

"Either way, I will be dead. Come and get them, they are ready for you. Since I did not hear from you, I put antivirus software in them, and I think you will like the price."

"Okay, Jeff, I will let you live another day. I will be there in 20 minutes."

As promised his laptop, with the extra batteries, were ready to go. Alan told Jeff, to keep the tower in the store, because he would not be in his house for some time. He wrote out a check, got in the Dodge, and filled it up with fuel. When night fell, he headed for Prescott.

At 0110 a.m., a twin-engine Boeing 717 landed Prescott airport, with its lights out. It taxied to the furthest edge of the runway and waited for the Dodge Ram to join it. When Alan backed the car up to the stairs, six men carried the package down, put it in the back seat, and strapped it in. One of the men handed Alan a GPS device, and told him not to lose it. He told him they had one more package, and they were going to put in the back.

Alan thought, "What the fuck is this?"

It took all six men to wrestle the trunk into the back of the Ram, and when it was in, the back of the truck lowered by 4 inches.

"What the hell is in that thing?"

One of the man yelled, "Go!"

Alan left the airport property, and the GPS told him to turn north on Alternate 89A. As he hit a dark stretch of road, two miles from the airport, he stopped, went around to the back of the truck, and uncovered his license plate. He got back in, and continued his journey.

No sooner had the Dodge pulled away from the jet; the pilot called the control tower, and said, "Special flight 1 ready for takeoff."

"Special flight 1, winds calm, altimeter 3001, cleared for takeoff."

"Roger, rolling." The unlit Boeing 717 lifted off and disappeared into the night sky.

The supervisor took the control strip into his hand, and destroyed it. He looked at the controller and said, "Isn't it a shame we do not have any air traffic at night?

He went down to the maintenance room, and wrote down the exact number on the tape recorder. He erased everything going back two hours. He looked at his watch to see the elapsed time, and added it to number that he had taken from the tape recorder. He hit the record button, wiped down everything he had touched, and went home. He had not been on duty that night. There was no air traffic; and the tapes would prove it.

Alan kept looking at the GPS waiting for it to say something. It glowed: North S.R Alternate 89A. He passed Jerome and Cottonwood, and continued on, until he started to see signs for Sedona. There were signs that reduced his speed to 25 and 30 miles an hour, because of steep road gradients, switchbacks, lack of guard rails and cliffs off to his right, which meant sudden-death if you did not pay attention to the road. About nine miles south of Sedona, the GPS came alive and said, "Slow, hard right turn 1000 feet ahead."

Alan could not see a thing, except black pavement ahead. He reduced his speed to 10 mph and put his bright lights on. He looked at his odometer and tried to gauge how far he had traveled. The GPS came on and said, "Slow, hard right turn, 200 feet ahead."

Alan still could not see a thing. He slowed to a crawl. He kept looking to his right. It was a relatively steep shoulder. He stopped the truck on the roadway and put it into four-wheel-drive. He crawled further ahead, until the GPS said, repeatedly, "Right turn, now. Right turn, now. Right turn, now."

Alan held his breath and made the hard right turn onto the shoulder, and down the steep decline. As his lights steadied on the ground ahead, he saw a trail down through the rocky terrain. He wondered if it was wide enough for the Dodge to fit through, without scratching both sides. It was, but it banged the right side mirror.

The GPS came on again and said, "Slow, follow trail 3 miles, expect left turn, into canyon road."

Alan thought, "This sounds like a lot of fun."

He was driving very slowly, watching his odometer click by, when he heard a moan in the back seat.

"I do not need you to wake up right now, Mister Package. Do not make me hit you over the head, please."

The GPS came alive. "Slow, left turn, 200 feet. Steep gradient ahead."

"Oh shit, I forgot to have the brakes checked."

He downshifted into second gear, and as he crested the hill, the GPS did not lie. The gradient was steeper than any Hill in San Francisco. He downshifted into first gear, and let the transmission bear the brunt of the descent. As he tried to gauge the depth of the descent into the canyon, he thought it was at least 800 yards, but at night, your depth perception could be way off. All he wanted to do was stay on course and not fall off either side. As he reached the bottom, the GPS said, "Right turn, follow trail, 6 miles southwest."

He continued, following directions for the next hour, realizing that if the battery in the GPS died, he would have no idea how to get out of wherever he was. As far as he knew, he was in a big hole in the ground, and he hoped it did not rain.

The GPS came alive again. "Stop, dead end ahead. Natural cave left side, 300 feet deep. Back truck in as far as it will go. Follow directions taped to package. Turn GPS off, now."

Alan spoke to GPS as if it was human. "That is the best piece of advice you have given me all night."

Alan put the truck into reverse, and backed it in to the cave, as slowly as he could. It was not straight, by any means. It meandered left and right; high and low. At one point, it made a 60° turn to the left. As the nose of the truck, cleared the point where it could be seen from the outside, he decided it was time to stop. He walked to the front of the cave to verify no one could see the truck. It was a perfect hiding place. Someone had done a lot of research to find this 'hole in the wall.' He reached into the back seat, pulled the envelope off the package, and opened his instructions. It was another "Holy Shit" moment. Was this going to be medieval torture? Chains, a neck collar, hobbling chains, and makeup. Who the fuck was he dealing with: Hannibal Lecter?"

He followed the protocol as listed in his instructions. He took out 'The Package', and laid him on the floor. He took off the man's shoes, put on the hobbling chains, and bolted them around his ankles. He unpacked him, and found the young man handcuffed around his back, tape across his mouth; and a blindfold over his eyes. Alan had no idea who this sucker was, and at this moment, he did not care. He had a job to do, and he was going to see it through. He pulled the enormous chest out of the back of the truck; being careful it did not hit any of his extremities. When it landed on the ground, it felt like a small earthquake had occurred in the cave. He opened the two clasps and found an assortment of torture devices and weapons. The protocol called for him to start assembling the chains. He took the small sledgehammer, the 6-inch U-shaped spikes, and the chain and began hammering the assembly into the wall of the cave.

He attached the metal collar around the man's neck and bolted it. He slid the chain through the double links and ran the chain 20 feet from the other position, and pounded it into the wall of the cave. This man was going nowhere fast. He assembled the chemical toilet and placed it inside the perimeter of the chains.

He removed all the tools, and put them back into the truck. Then he started doing the craziest part of his instructions. Inside the chained area, he put an M-16 rifle with 10 extra magazines of ammunition; a bushmaster knife, a bulletproof vest, and a helmet. The director had to be losing his mind; he was sure of it.

He walked into the deepest recesses of the cave and found the supplies he was told would be there. He took a 5-gallon jug of water and put it within the circle. Then they were in MRE's, fresh fruit, and an assortment of reading material. Club Med, without girls and swimming pools, he thought. The large cooler with chemical ice was a nice touch, also.