“So wait, there are helicopters that can make this journey?” The velvet voice of the girl with a plan probed further.
“I’m sure the military has a few but that’s…..”
“You’ve been very helpful. I got to go now, thanks.” Molly hit end call and was already thinking of her next move. She stared at the phone screen for a second.
So, the Pentagon said they wanted information did they?
*
“Ms. Hunter, I’m asking you to be reasonable.” The desk officer at the Pentagon balled his free hand in frustration.
“I am being reasonable.” Molly’s saccharine voice replied. She almost batted her eyes sweetly to no one in particular.
“Just tell us where his forces are.” He tried again.
“You come pick me up and you’ll find out.” This time she did bat her eyes. Molly knew he couldn’t see it. But she wanted to stay in character. This was a role Molly Hunter had played before; the sweetheart of a girl who had you by the balls.
“Ms. Hunter…….” He tried again.
“I don’t think you understand my relationship with the Pentagon, sir.” Molly kept the voice sweet as Venus fly trap nectar as she tightened the screws. “It’s a Ying and Yang thing.”
“Ying and Yang?” His voice was a set monotone. He had lost his patience long ago but knew he couldn’t show it.
“I have just yinged you with intel that General Beauragard is on the move.” Molly explained in a kindly way that she knew was killing him. “Now, I need some Yang.”
“Yang, ma’am?”
“Yang,” Molly snapped the trap. “I need you to come pick me up and I’ll tell you where he is.”
There was an exasperated sigh. Molly could feel others listening in. She let the silence between them gather weight and momentum while hand signals and notes were being passed on the other side of the phone. I can’t believe you thought I would just give this kind of shit up for free. She bit her lip to pass the time.
“We have to make a few calls…..”
“Good.” The word was a conclusion to the negotiation. “Call me back in twenty minutes.”
She ended the conversation with a flick of her thumb and headed for the shower. Molly closed the bathroom door and locked it automatically. It’s what we do these days. She slipped out of her Agent Provocateur lingerie and glanced over her shoulder to confirm the lock was in place. Remember the boogie man? He’s real now.......
Her hair was never going to dry fast enough. That’s just the Caribbean life, her hand fished into a luggage bag and slipped on a Reebok Sports bra, Eve St. Laurent short black sleeve top and an equally black Lululemon zip up hoodie. Brown pants and Merrell Moab ventilator hiking shoes finished things off. Molly surveyed the room and decided to travel light. She packed the camera, laptop, cords and batteries then rolled them into a ball of clothes. One bag, that’s it, the Louis Vuitton, of course.
Molly took a deep breath and slipped out of the bathroom and surveyed the room quickly before her phone chimed. She let it ring twice before picking up the secure Blackberry and raised it to her ear.
“Yes?” The sweet voice gave an encore performance.
“We’ll be there in forty five minutes, Ms. Hunter.” It was a new voice now. The woman was terse and to the point.
“Good.” She let the word play into the phone silky smooth. It was a raw knifepoint, a reminder of just who got what they wanted here.
“Where are you?” There were other voices now in the room, on headsets. It was the sound of shit coming together at warp speed.
“The former Holiday Inn on Third Avenue, it’s called the West Virginia Republic Suites now.” She heard her relay the information, a male voice replied with one syllable over the speakers.
“Do you know where the Robert S. Byrd Bridge is?” For a minute, Molly marveled how the woman could concentrate on their conversation with all the other voices in the room. Oh yeah, we girls can do that, she remembered.
“I know exactly where it is.” Molly could see the old metal skeleton of the bridge across the Ohio River in her mind. The last time she had passed by boats were cruising on the brownish surface, men were searching the murky depths with flashlights, dredging slowly along the silty bottom. They definitely were not looking for fish.
“There is a patch of greenery separating the highways and on ramps on your side of the Ohio River.” The instructions were spoken in a cadence that made her think of Maggie when she was giving orders. Slow, careful and crystal clear.
“Yes?”
“Don’t stand on the grass.” The voice slowed even further. “Stand on the highway so we can see you.”
“Got it,” Molly took a few more things and slipped them into her bag, she couldn’t help but add coyly; “You people put this all together rather quickly.”
“That’s what happens when you say the magic word around here, ma’am.” The communications officer replied without a beat.
“The magic word?” Molly was caught off guard by the reply.
“Beauragard,” the woman replied. “Forty five minutes, Ms. Hunter.”
*
The lock eased back carefully. In the cavernous hallway of the Republic Suites it still sounded like a pistol shot. There was always something odd about hotel hallways. The way the doors stretched into imagined infinity on both sides. Molly had observed to herself once or twice in a pensive moment how they looked like crossroads in your life, decision points. Your existence lined up and judged by each choice. You walked down the hall and opened a door, then what? There would be another hallway of endless decisions and doors before you. On and on, a never ending universe of what might have been.
You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?
“Yes,” She felt her feet quiver at the ankles before lowering her head and striding toward the elevator door. They’re out there, you know that. Molly tried to calm her nerves by remembering how safe The Republic of West Virginia had been, according to media sources.
According to media sources, the panic part of her replied as Molly’s finger tapped the down button on the elevator. Yeah, we in the media never lie. Not us, we’re right as rain. As the doors rolled open Molly distracted herself by taking one last look down the infinite hallway. If I were Beauragard, I’d have put someone on watch outside my door. She continued her train of thought while entering the elevator. You know, just in case I tried something like this. As Molly’s eyes sifted around her surroundings she happened to glance up at the darkened ceiling and its tiny, artistic nodules that seemed to blink back at her.
Gotcha, her mouth pursed as the cameras tracked her move.
She carefully placed her Louis Vuitton on the floor and pulled the hoodie over her head. Molly had a moment to size up the situation while the numbers counted down to her destination. It occurred to her who she was dealing with. Beauragard was a man of command, always in control and giving the orders.
At least when it comes to me, she started to feel herself get some wriggle room. She remembered back to the battlefield and how close he was when she turned around. Molly arched her neck in thought as the elevator settled in to its destination with hydraulic resonance. Remember the soldier in the jeep when you changed the game plan and said you didn’t need a crew?
Oh shit, his face had said it all. He had to get new orders. Molly picked up her Louis Vuitton and stepped a bit closer to the doors. Okay, we’ve got a plan.
Ping!