Reaching the end of the fire road where it intersected with the macadam highway, Peter turned left announcing his intention of driving to Washington. He had only hours to reach Washington DC and keep his strict timetable.
Jim opened his eyes several minutes after the initial gun blast, remembering the feel of the hot lead as it ripped into his chest. He blinked his eyes several times in response to the suns intense rays wondering what the hell had happened. More than that, where was he? Looking from side-to-side, he couldn’t help but notice the vivid colors of the leaves; they seemed brighter, clearer. The hues were magnificent. What the hell was going on?
From his position on the ground, he saw a dark wavy figure running down the road he had just traveled. Was that the man who just shot me?
A sudden rush of warmth enveloped his body feeling as though he had stepped into a bubbling hot tub. This is crazy, blinking several times as if it would help in answering his questions.
Looking down at his shirt, he saw that there was neither blood nor a gun shot hole. What the…..? I know I was shot. I didn’t just dream the whole thing up. It was too intense of a feeling. Jim struggled to his feet. Blinking several times, feeling as if he were a newborn to this world, Jim looked around to see the suspect’s car. It actually did happen! He saw his 38 caliber on the ground.
Jim felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall when he heard the unmistakable laugh of a child ring out. He saw his son fishing in the shallow bank of the lake pulling a 5-pound rainbow trout from its depths, holding it high in order to gauge its length.
That’s my son! He wanted to say aloud, but an uncontrollable force was stopping him from speaking.
Unbeknownst to Jim, his wife had silently laid a picnic basket on a blanket beside where he now stood. She was trying to smooth the winkles in her blue dress, trying to look her best for the man she had fell madly in love with at fifteen years of age. She stood looking at him, noticing that he hadn’t changed a bit except for a few extra pounds around the waist.
Laura decided not to say anything, clearing her throat in order to get his attention. Jim turned in response and was now face to face with his true love. She stood smiling coyly in front of him.
But this can’t be real, he thought. If it were possible, she was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He was dumfounded, wanting to say something but she quickly applied a manicured finger to his lips.
“Welcome home!” Laura whispered lovingly, following it up with a passionate kiss. She then pulled out a clip that held her hair in place, shaking her head from side-to-side, allowing her long hair to fall freely about her.
“Yes, I remembered that you hated my hair scrunched up in a ball.” Her throaty laugh resonating through the area’s pine trees. She stood there for him to admire in all her splendor, spinning around in her blue dress as the wind lifted it up slightly as she twirled it back and forth. Jim wondered if this were all a dream and he would suddenly find himself awake and back in his dreary apartment in Atlantic City.
Laura suddenly raised her hand to her lips, causing Jim to look down at himself as if he were to blame. “My goodness, how foolish of me, I almost forgot,” she said, quickly turning towards a figure standing alone in the shallow waters of the lake. “Bobby, come over here. Your father’s home,” she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Laura smiled once more at him, repeating the word, “home” admiring its sound as if hearing it for the first time.
Up to this point Bobby had been unaware of his father’s presence amongst them, still busy trying to gauge his fish’s size. No longer, Jim could see his son dropping his fishing pole and freshly caught fish in the water in response to his mother’s message, bounding through the lakes shallow waters as if running the high hurdles to join them in their joyful reunion.
Yes, he was surely home.
Chapter Fifteen
Alice looked at the scribbling on the paper and nodded, “Thanks, sergeant, I’ll give this to my supervisor.” She abruptly closed the door behind her, walking back down the steps to where Michael Forsythe was still interrogating Boris.
“Michael, can I see you for a minute?” She motioned him over to an isolated part of the holding area, out of ear shot of Boris.
“What do we have Alice?”
Alice handed him the note.
“So, we have our man heading west do we? Well, I guess we can tell our Russian friend here the good news,” turning back to face Boris. “We have located your friend running west, probably heading towards Washington or south to Norfolk. Which one is it Boris? Is he returning to your old stomping grounds in DC?”
Alice leaned over to Forsythe, whispering in his ear about the Washington and Philadelphia maps that were found in the suspect’s car.
“Forsythe clapped his hands together. “Boris, the pieces of the puzzle keep coming together, even without your help.” He walked back over to where Boris sat handcuffed to the metal chair.
Boris looked tired. The exertion, both mental and physical, had taken its toll. He struggled to hold up his head. “I still don’t know what you are talking about Michael. I am a simple Russian citizen who has come to vacation at your lovely beaches. Since my arrival, I have been insulted and assaulted by your police.”
Forsythe delivered yet another nasty blow to the face, opening up a second cut below his right eye. “Cut the crap Boris. Answer truthfully to the next question or so help me God, I’ll pummel you senseless. You and your accomplice will not harm any of our citizens, not on my watch son. I swear on my mother’s grave it will not happen. If I kill you here, we can save the American taxpayer a lot of money. Answer the damn question.”
Boris realized Michael meant business. His face beet red, eyes bulging, and he honestly believed he would kill him if provided the chance. The time for a deal never quite surfaced, thinking it was out of the question. It was time for Boris to save what he could and the hell with the young Muslim. Boris tried to salvage some dignity, sitting up straight, wiping the blood from his face.
“All right, Michael, you win. I will answer your questions as truthfully and honestly as I can.”
Forsythe had to be restrained by his fellow agents.
“That’s the same shit you said hours ago Boris and look where we are!” he screamed.
Boris chalked one up for himself, one of the few he could attest too. He was able to upset the esteemed Michael Forsythe just enough for him to lose his sense of judgment in front of his subordinates. Known in his FSB dossier as a cool customer, that notion would be updated to reflect today’s actions. The game tilted in Boris’s favor, but not for long. He had to start feeding Michael some relevant information, or he might pay dearly, possibly with his life.
Boris nodded his thanks to each agent for saving him from yet another beating.
“Michael, the man I agreed to meet down here is an agent for the Chechnya government,” Boris stating the first factual bit of information after nine hours of harsh interrogation.
Forsythe took his time wiping blood from Boris’s face with a handkerchief. “Okay Boris, let’s start fresh,” he said in a barely audible tone. “The man you met with on the Ocean City Boardwalk, who did he work for? What is his name?” He motioned for one of his fellow agents to release the handcuffs as a sign of good will.
“Like I said before Michael, the man works for the Chechnya government. He is a rebel freedom fighter, recruited to become an agent of his government.” Boris paused and then held a handkerchief to the cut above his eye to stem the flow of blood.