Jack Be Quick Ch. 08

"And the bad guys got away without a scratch?" asked Tom.

"Yeah, they did. Too bad I didn't have Jack with me. Or Trudy. Or both."

It was Annette's turn to ask a question. "You mentioned a decoy route? Can you tell us about that?"

"I think Jack can explain that better than I can."

"A while ago we tried to take some of the heat off Trudy and me by spreading the rumor that the only guy who knew our project inside and out was Hubie Wilson. He was totally fictional, invented by us. We gave him his own office, a cluttered desk, a file cabinet full of obsolete plans, even a photo of his family. Then we waited. Somebody got in there late one night and photocopied every bit of paper in the office. But we still don't know who it was. We got some pictures, but all we could see was somebody in a black hoodie. What that told us was that somebody was able to get in there at night and look at things he, or she, wasn't supposed to see.

"The FBI guys figured that we had a mole, either in their office or in our project team, so we needed some sort of a sting that would expose him or her. Pete's people planned a route for our trip home, avoiding Interstate 90 and using alternate routes. Sure enough, when I had the map and directions planted, somebody looked it over and tried to put everything back the way it was, but didn't get it quite right. Again no useful answers from our security cameras, which was a real shock to us. Total mystery.

"So Pete took my place and an agent named Julie took Trudy's. They were the decoy, driving our route in our car, and they nearly got killed doing it. Now, knowing about all these episodes, you can see why the only sensible thing was to get us out of harm's way while a small army of FBI and CIA people comb the western hemisphere for answers.

"But what's going to happen to us?" asked Tom. "Our jobs? Our house? And what about my parents? And Jack's parent's, and Annette's?"

Pete looked a little pained. "Look, Tom, if I can take care of a ninety mile an hour driveby starring a hit man with a machinegun, I think you can trust me to take care of the things you're worried about. Your parents are as safe as the President. The administrative details you're asking about will be taken care of tomorrow. Well, it's today now. Remember the old Greyhound commercials? Just sit back and leave the driving to us."

While Pete was saying all this, Jill and her partner Zack were bringing out some bulky jackets, quilted but obviously very light. Zack said, "We thought you might find these comfortable when we get off the plane." Then, with no further explanation, Zack and Jill went back toward the tail of the plane, and we were left staring at each other without a clue. I turned to ask Pete where we were going, and he was gone too.

Trudy pitched her voice very low, almost like a growl, and in her best Arte Johnson imitation said, "Verrry mysterious."

* * * * * * * * * *

I could see dawn brightening the eastern sky while we were at our cruising altitude, and then the sky darkened as we descended toward our destination, down where the sun wasn't shining yet. Zack and Jill came back to our cabin and made sure everybody's seat belt was securely fastened. Annette asked where we were landing. Jill started to give us clues.

"We're arriving in a small country that has the happiest population in the world," she said.

Tom picked up on that right away. "You mean we're going to Disneyland?"

Zack answered that one directly. "No. Disneyland uses a tremendous amount of electric power. This is a place where they generate all the electric power they need without burning a bit of oil or coal."

I said, "That should mean that the air is clean. They ought to be healthy, then."

"They must be, because their life expectancy is well over 80 years. But if they get sick, their government provides totally free medical care."

Trudy looked puzzled, but then she flashed a big smile. "Oh, I know! How wonderful!"

I asked, "Will the people speak English?"

"Oh, yes," said Jill. Everybody has to learn English in school. It's not their national language, but everybody will understand you. They're very proud of their little homeland and anxious to explain it to you, and for you to enjoy your visit."

I was stumped, and looking at Tom and Annette I could see that they were, too. But before we could talk about it any more, the wheels touched down on the runway and we glided to a perfect landing, without a jolt or a jiggle.

As we taxied toward the terminal building, Pete materialized and said, "Welcome to Keflavik International Airport, in the Republic of Iceland. I've been trying to get passports arranged for you, but I couldn't quite get all the strings pulled in time for our arrival. We'll take a ride in a State Department van to the American Embassy in Reykjavik, and they'll issue your passports there."

"Will it take long to get there?" asked Tom.

"Oh, maybe 40 minutes. But if you want to use a rest room first, there's one just inside the terminal, on this side of the customs checkpoint."

I could tell that Trudy was happy about visiting Iceland, just by looking at her face. She was positively radiant. "Pete, do you know how long we'll be here? I want to see everything there is to see, but we've had a long day. If this is a quick turnaround, I'll stay up and look around. But if we've got a few days here, I'm going to crash on the first bed I see."

"No telling how long this will take. If you'll pardon the pun, we're trying to keep you folks on ice till we can eliminate the threat. But we're still working on that, so you'll have plenty of time to sleep first and tour later."

* * * * * * * * * *

The embassy people were friendly and welcoming. I wondered if they got many customers in such an out of the way place. Pete signed some sort of authorizing document, and he commented that with one stroke of his pen he had saved us each $95 and a wait of at least a month for passports. While we were waiting, a man took Tom and Annette into a room to discuss their situation. They went in, moderately annoyed and worried. Ten minutes later they came out, practically skipping, and all smiles. I was glad to see the improvement, and Tom explained, "Mr. Brown is the cultural attache, but I'm guessing he's also involved with the FBI. He already had all sorts of info on us, and we verified it and gave him a couple of names that he didn't have. He'll tell our families, the bank that holds our mortgage, our employers, the pastor of our church, and the police department that we've been unavoidably detained overseas by the government, through no fault of ours, but are in no danger.

"The FBI is picking up our mortgage payment and utility bills while we're away, and he signed us both up as confidential consultants for a month. Then he gave us each a voucher for a thousand dollars that we can go and cash at the bank, as our payment in advance so we'll have some spending money while we're here. He said some law forbids our employers to take our jobs away from us while we're here on government business, so now we can go off and enjoy our vacation with not a worry in the world. He said some lady will talk to us about our hotel and local tourist information. Uh, I wouldn't be surprised if that's the lady coming in now with all those little colored pamphlets."

The pamphlet lady turned out to be a petite blonde, who could have passed for a college girl. She was pretty enough to be a cheerleader, but she wasn't haughty, acted more like the girl next door. "Hi. I'm Priscilla, and I hope you can spare me a few minutes to explain a little about Reykjavik and where you'll be staying. If you'll sit over here, Tom and Annette, and you over here, Jack and Trudy, you'll be able to see what I'm talking about." She set a pile of colored brochures in front of Annette, and another pile in front of Trudy. "This is a map of the immediate area." She took the top one off our pile and flattened it out on the coffee table. "This is where most of the people in Iceland live. Here is the embassy. Over here is your hotel, where we'll be going as soon as your passports are ready. Right across the street from the hotel is a wonderful restaurant, not terribly expensive, where you can get local cuisine and also American food. Keep in mind that there's no place on this island where big animals with immense appetites, like beef cattle and large hogs, can be grazed. So the local diet is big on mutton, which you may not have eaten back home. Also, fish is plentiful, and if you like seafood almost any restaurant you find will be a good choice. But that restaurant across from the hotel also gets beef and pork flown in for American tourists. I find that about once a week I want a good hamburger or a steak or ham and eggs, so if you're like me, remember that place.

"Now here are brochures about an assortment of things that tourists seem to like. You'll find more in the lobby of the hotel. They're all in English, and everybody understands English here, although some of them speak it with an accent that takes some getting used to.

"This one is special, and I put two in each of your piles so you could each have one in your pocket. If you are lost or in any kind of danger, this tells you how to contact the police and what to tell them. But keep in mind that you are guests of the United States Government, and for any problem you can call the American embassy. So I've put my card inside all four of these, and you need to slip it into your wallet and don't hesitate to pull it out and call me." She sort of looked around to see who might be listening. "We don't have many tourists right now. If you call it'll give me something to do. I can give you a frank opinion about every place you might be thinking of going. Just like tourist attractions everywhere, they all look nice in their brochures, but it may be worthwhile to get a second opinion. The ones I've put in this collection you can trust, and they'll give you a start. Now, any questions?"

Mr. Brown came in just then with our passports. "Excuse me, Priscilla. Are you finished?"

"Yes, if there are no questions. No? All right, here's what you've all been waiting for."

As Mr. Brown started talking about passports, my mind was whirling and I couldn't keep up with what he was saying. There we were, in Iceland, of all places. Just a few hours ago we were at home, and it all happened like a trip on a magic carpet, right out of a fairy tale. But Mr. Brown opened the top passport on the stack, and there was my face smiling at me. He pointed to this and that, explaining what a passport is all about, but he might as well have been talking about the price of soy beans because I was preoccupied. That was my passport, with my picture, and my name, John Henry Allen! This was all real! I was actually in Iceland! Wow! At the same time, another part of my brain was absorbing the wonder, the majesty of this little document. It's like a key that unlocks the door to let us back into the USA, which is very comforting when you're far from home.

There was a receipt that each of us had to sign to confirm that we'd received our passport and inspected it to see that it was ours and not somebody else's. Then we were on our way to the hotel with Priscilla driving us in a small SUV.

* * * * * * * * * *

If you've never been to Iceland, and hardly anybody has, I recommend that you go there and check it out. It never gets real hot or real cold. It's about as safe as you can get during hurricane season. It's not crowded. The island has as much land as Kentucky, but only as many people as a medium sized American city. Most of them are concentrated in the southwest corner, in and around Reykjavik. The remainder live around the perimeter, where they farm and fish. That leaves the middle part, where the volcanoes and glaciers are, pretty much unpopulated and therefore almost all natural.

One of the first things we did was rent an SUV and drive about 60 miles north, roughly along the west coast. The scenery was interesting and we took some pictures, but the lack of towns and scarcity of overnight accommodations kept us from venturing farther. The driving was easy, and in Iceland they drive on the right side of the road, the same as we do. The highway is called The Ring Road, because it completely encircles the island. Just in case somebody might mistake it for some other road, and they don't have many, it is officially Route 1. Highway signs along the way show directions to farms, just the way our road signs direct us to towns and villages. If you see a sign that directs you down a side road to 'Jorgensson' that doesn't mean there's a town by that name down that road. It means that there's a man whose father's name was Jorgen, and he and his family have a farm down that road, very likely raising sheep.

The most spectacular scenery is where there aren't any roads, so later we made a connection with an aerial touring outfit, and flew in a small plane over and around mountains and ice fields. The terrain looks about as forbidding as any I've ever seen, although I haven't been to the Rocky Mountain states or Alaska. Lots of pictures. Some day we'll show our snapshots to our grandkids. But the funny thing is that by that time kids will be traveling all over the world and think nothing of it. When we talk about Iceland they might answer, "Oh, yeah, we went there last weekend for a fish fry."

Because the developed part of the island is down near the water's edge, we naturally got thinking about fish. Fishing, done with big ships and big nets that bring in fish by the ton, is a major industry. But we had in mind the kind of fishing where you hold onto a rod with a reel on it, and develop a personal relationship with a fish. We inquired and were put in touch with a strapping fishing guide whose name none of us could pronounce, so he said to call him Gus. We went in a four door pickup to a river not far from Reykjavik. I'd tell you its name but I can't pronounce it or spell it. To me it's just Gus's River. There was a lodge where we were fitted out with waders, jackets, gloves, and hats. Then we were off with Gus to his favorite spot on the river, to fish for salmon. They weren't running at the time the way they do in their mating season, but there were still a few of them messing around, looking for a meal. Everybody caught one except me, and you can imagine the ribbing I took about that. We released the smallest of the three, which was caught by Tom. Then we took the other two back to the lodge, where in late afternoon we enjoyed a tasty meal of our fresh caught salmon, amid reminders from the girls about who caught them.

Let me add a word or more about salmon. To many seafood lovers, including me, salmon is about at the top of the list. That's if you buy it at a fish market. The salmon you get at a supermarket has been hanging around for a few more days, and while it's still good it's lost a lot of its flavor. But when it's fresh caught, meaning within a couple of hours, it has so much flavor you might think it's some other kind of fish. It's so good that for me, it beats out any other entrée except a really tender filet mignon. If you ever get a chance to go to a place where they serve wild salmon that's just come out of the water, just try it and you'll see what I mean.

Another day we went hiking. There's a trail that runs thirty miles over hill and dale, and we hiked a very small portion of it. Gorgeous scenery. Lots of hills, some green and some bare rock, but the kind of wild beauty that takes you away from the world of everyday concerns and allows you to look at a real pristine wilderness. Back when the earth was young, maybe it all looked like that. We got back to our hotel that afternoon, after all that exertion in the fresh air, with our minds relaxed and our bodies tired enough for a nap. Trudy and I slept for two hours and woke up feeling great. Later, when we went to dinner we were in the mood to cross the street and sample the local cuisine with good appetites and open minds, and we tasted flavor combinations that we'd never experienced before.

When we got back to the hotel there was a message waiting for me, to call Priscilla at the embassy. I didn't know her business hours, but I gave it a try and she answered on the second ring. "Jack, we have some news from your friends in the Boston office of the FBI. It's like good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Start with the bad news, please, so I can get it over with."

"All right. They still haven't caught the man they want most, the top man in the criminal ring that's behind the attacks on you."

"Well, that's disappointing, but it's no worse than it was when we left. Will the good news make me feel any better?"

"Yes, I'm sure it will. I kind of understand this, but I'm sure it'll mean more to you than it did to me. I'll read it just as it came to me by secure email. 'Regarding the recent attacks on you and your associates: two second tier managers of the international criminal organization have been arrested in France. Interpol analysts think the whole gang has now been put out of business. The top man has been identified and is the subject of a manhunt in Europe and South America. His assets are frozen, and he is on the run. CIA analysts conclude that he is too preoccupied with his own survival to organize any more attacks. The European officials who financed the operation have been identified, and will definitely not cause any more trouble.' Does all that make sense to you?"

"Yes, Priscilla, and if you were here I'd give you a big kiss for that information. I was getting tired of being spied on, plotted against, and shot at. Oh, you can't believe what a relief this is. Thank you. If you can send a reply from me without too much trouble, please tell them I said, 'Whoopee!' Have you got that? Do I need to spell it?"

When Priscilla stopped laughing she said, "Okay, Jack. Your message is understood and I'll send it off right away. I suppose they'll be coming soon to bring you home, so expect to hear from me again before long. Bye."

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day we were told to be ready to travel within 24 hours. When the time came we were pleased to see that we were going back in the same plane we came in. Zack and Jill were in the doorway to welcome us. A big difference from the way we arrived, though. Then we just had the clothes on our backs, not even a toothbrush. This time we had luggage, full of new clothes and everything else we'd bought. Eight suitcases in all, for just four people! Another difference was the way we felt. Arriving we were apprehensive, but departing we were relaxed and rested, just the way you hope you'll feel after a good vacation. I felt light as a feather. Here's my recipe for how to greet the day with a smile - make love with the most beautiful girl in the world, who then reminds you that nobody will try to murder you all day long.

We'd packed the night before, so after breakfast we had very little to do but wait for Priscilla and her SUV to take us to the airport. Trudy was making some last minute phone calls, and I had a chance to sit quietly and reflect on all that had happened to us. I had no interruptions as I replayed my memories, good and bad. One thing I wanted to get a handle on was how I had handled it all. I was surprised to realize that in the scary parts, I wasn't all that scared. Some, of course, but nowhere near as frightened out of my wits as I had good reason to be. And as I picked apart the details, minute by minute and second by second, I found a remarkable thread running through the thoughts and feelings I had when the going got really tough - I was thinking of Trudy all the time. I wanted to protect her, or I wanted to survive so I could give her the kind of life she deserved, or I was mentally holding my breath until I could hold her and tell her it was going to be all right.