Background
Calin Roberts is an operative with Homeland Security. While his name doesn't appear on any official documentation, his reputation is known and feared throughout the hallways of Washington
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He handed Jess the phone. "You know what to say."
"What was his name again?" she smiled as she glanced at the piece of paper she held. It contained the location of the chalet. The GPS had provided the precise coordinates along with the name of the road.
"I'm calling on behalf of Senator Cameron McIntosh," Jess said on hearing the reporter identify herself. "As you know, Senator McIntosh serves on several of the more sensitive committees involving National Security and Intelligence." It was a statement neither Calin nor Jess could verify. They both hoped the young reporter's knowledge of the Senator's duties were as lacking in detail as their own. They had employed another line Calin's memory had just recalled. 'A claim delivered with certainty creates its own credibility.'
"In this capacity he has uncovered new documentation surrounding the man known as Calin Roberts." The trap had been set; a name familiar to the reporter had been the bait. There was no challenge.
"Perhaps Rachel, you should call the Senator's office to confirm his cell phone details." Jess then provided the number. "You can never be too cautious."
"Where did he get my name? And why did he choose me?"
"Allow me to give you the honest answer. Mind you, should I ever be questioned in regard to this comment, I will deny I ever said it." She was adhering to the script they had rehearsed.
"Most of the 'name' reporters have oversized egos; they believe they are the story. This arrogance irks Senator McIntosh; he believes the story is important, not the story teller. And he wants the people of America to know the truth in this instance. Calin Roberts is a myth, the creation of a department head in one of the many clandestine security organisations housed in the Pentagon.
"Do you want to call me back, Rachel?" The question was Calin's idea. He wanted a direct contact number to the journalist.
"No." Jess smiled at the enthusiasm of the youth. "Just tell me, where and when?"
"You'll need a helicopter and a cameraman. And most importantly, be exactly on time, 4.45 this afternoon, Senator McIntosh is a stickler for punctuality. Good luck, Rachel." Jess read from the note. "Before you go, Rachel....." It was too late, the reporter had disconnected.
"What do we do with this?" Jess asked on holding up the phone.
"We'll keep it. I expect we'll get a call sometime around 5.15 from either a very grateful Rachel or from one very pissed-off and disgraced Senator. I really look forward to that conversation."
"Why are you doing this, Calin? What has Senator McIntosh got to do with Calin Roberts?" Jess asked.
"Nothing, at least nothing I'm aware of. Jess, this is not about McIntosh, it's more a case of establishing a line of credit with the reporter."
"Why?" she asked. "What can she do to assist us?"
"She will become our mouthpiece."
"What if she refuses?"
"She won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"She craves recognition and success and Calin Roberts offers that precise opportunity to Rachel Costello. I am her path to fame."
"Perhaps her highway to hell is more appropriate," Jess challenged. "Do you intend to warn her of the dangers she will encounter? Or are you too obsessed with self?"
Stung by her outburst, Calin examined his motives. Would he really sacrifice someone else's life to ensure his own survival? Was he no better than those pursuing him? Conscience was a liability he had never had to answer to. Jess though had brought change, He couldn't dismiss her angered response.
'Don't justify, just do.' Another snippet emerged. If only he could recall the entire context of the phrase? In total contrast to the four words, Calin now needed to validate his action.
"Think back, Jess. Did I have self on my mind when I went to your aid?"
"I don't know anymore." She started to cry. Calin recognised the symptom, battle fatigue. She'd seen too much action, insufficient time to think, seen the enemy grow stronger and surrendered all hope of achieving victory. Fear had eroded all belief in survival.
"Hang tough, Jess," said Calin as he veered onto the first off-ramp. "We've got this far and we're not finished yet. And remember, Calin Roberts doesn't give up."
In the distance, he saw a small strip mall. A large advertising banner advised of an array of food outlets. Two things caught his eye, the car park had ample parking available and there were a number of young men standing around three vehicles at the far end of the parking lot. For sale signs were attached to the front windows.
"Let's eat first, and then talk. Believe it or not, Jess, I've got another plan." It had formed the instant he'd seen the makeshift cars sales lot.
"Is leaving the keys in the ignition a part of your plan?" Her face almost broke into a smile as they strolled towards a pizza parlour.
"Actually, it is." The partial smile gave way to disbelief. "I think it's time we upgraded the Beemer."
Calin requested a table by the window; he wanted to watch the thieves in action. He needed to identify the group's weakest link. They kept glancing at the BMW and talking excitedly among themselves. It appeared they lacked the courage to take the final step. Finally one approached the vehicle. He peered through the window and then offered the thumbs up to his friends. After a moment's hesitation, they walked and half ran prior to opening the doors. One remained by the cars for sale.
The driver couldn't contain himself. The tyres squealed as he sped out of the car park and headed away from the interstate.
"Why didn't you do something?" demanded Jess. "What are we going to do for transport now?"
"I'm about to pick up my new vehicle now," Calin replied. "Would you care to join me?" She followed him to where the young car salesman stood alone. The look on his face conveyed fear. Calin knew he'd found the junior partner.
"Just nod your head and agree with whatever I say," he whispered to Jess.
"Your friends have just stolen my vehicle," said Calin in a voice laced with authority. "Perhaps I should warn you, it's not really mine, it belongs to Senator Cameron McIntosh and is equipped with all forms of surveillance and GPS global tracking devices. The instant I lodge details of the theft its location will be pinpointed to within fifteen feet of its exact whereabouts. The cameras crafted into the upholstery will positively identify your friends and I'd suggest you'll all do time in prison." Calin watched as terror swept over the salesman. He was, Calin guessed no more than eighteen.
"I am, however prepared to make a deal. I'll allow you to warn your companions on two conditions. First, you give me the choice of these cars here, at no cost. And second, and I'm only telling you this 'cause I too was once young and stupid, your friends had better fire the vehicle as extreme heat is the only way of destroying the camera's evidence.
"Do you want to deal, or do I call the cops, now?" Calin pulled the phone from his pocket.
"Don't call." There was absolute panic in the voice. "Take whichever one you want."
"Which one would you recommend?"
"The red Camry."
"I'll take it. And one other thing, son. I'll be needing your phone also, and the keys to the other vehicles."
"How do I warn my friends?" Panic had yielded to desperation. The salesman had his hands behind his back. Like a coiled cobra he was poised to strike. Calin knew what to expect. He'd faced death many times before.
The attack lacked subtlety. The knife came with a rush. Calin swayed out of its path, grabbed the attacker's arm and threw him to the ground, disarming him in the process. "Were this a street fight, kid, you'd now be dead. Take a word of advice from someone who knows. Get away from those other thugs and build yourself a life.
"Now give me your phone. Better still, sell it to me. Here's two hundred bucks, take it." Calin released his grip on the boy. With Usain Bolt like speed he jumped to his feet and fled.
Calin swapped the Camry's plates with another vehicle bearing Canadian licence plates.
