Soon they were speeding along at seventy-five miles an hour, though, and the image was lost. Perhaps she was right about what, and who, she had seen. If so, what did it mean? Probably nothing, she determined, as red mustangs were free to move about Charlotte’s highways just like any other cars.
The thought prompted her to check her cell phone. No new messages. Interesting. Then she had an idea. “Hey, Mom, so what’s the status of the house? You got everything covered?”
“Well, I just got the paperwork back from the agent today, so we should be all set. I’ve got an appointment Monday morning at State Farm, and then when you get home from school Monday, we’ll head out to our new home. I didn’t really think we could move this fast on either house, but the market is crazy right now, and this is the norm.”
Amanda chewed on her fingernail, thinking. Ideas were circling through her mind like race cars around a track.
“Monday sounds good. You’ve got your thing in the morning, and I have missed some classes, though Rugsdale said I’ve already technically graduated.”
“It’s a deal then.”
They trudged through the rush-hour traffic in silence, the palpable tension easing a bit. Amanda guessed the questioning would resume at some point, if not by her mother then from Nina. As they drove she went through everything that Matt had told her yesterday and that which she had covered with Harlan and Mary Ann only recently.
Their plan was decent, she figured, but hers was better, especially now. A Cheshire grin crept out of the right side of her mouth, unnoticed by her mother. It must be true; the acorn really doesn’t drop far from the tree. Her Machiavellian scheme had hatched in her mind when she least expected something so elaborate or wicked to reveal itself.
I-26 ticked by as they sped along I-85, approached the Spartanburg exit, and soon found their home. To her surprise, Nina’s car was not there, though she knew it would not be long before she arrived. Her grandmother would want the scoop as well, no question.
“Thanks for picking me up, Mom.”
She popped the trunk, grabbed her duffel bag, and maneuvered it upstairs quickly, locking her door behind her. She charged her cell phone, unpacked, and booted up her computer. She filed all of the e-mails she had forwarded herself from Dagus’s computer, conjured a password for that file and hid it in a systems folder to further conceal its location. Then she mailed the entire folder to Harlan. Lastly, she copied all of the e-mails and attachments onto the thumb drive Jake had given her and debated whether to take the next step. Staring at her computer screen, she decided that only one other person could know about her plan, and even then, she wasn’t sure. Her finger hovered over the mouse with the cursor arrow blinking above the send button.
She heard a car pull into the driveway and continued to debate what to do. With no further thought, she did what she felt was the right thing, closed the program, and then walked to the window.
Nina. She had been right about many things lately, and Amanda wondered about how to further refine her plan to make it all the more encapsulating. She wanted not just her freedom, but total victory. The competitive gene sparked like the pilot light of a furnace whose thermostat had reached ignition temperature. She had been ignited, no question.
She checked her computer once more, activated the right program, and made sure all the passwords were still in effect. She checked the microphone to see that it was on. She watched the volume bar exhibit several green bars as she repeated the word “testing” several times. She adjusted the volume so that it was more sensitive and then backed away into the center of the room and tried it again. She locked her computer but left the program running beneath the screensaver.
Once satisfied, Amanda quickly changed into a pair of stone-washed jeans and a dark blue hoodie with short sleeves and a kangaroo pocket. She slowly opened her door, peeked around the corner, and could hear her mother and grandmother in the kitchen talking in hushed voices. She needed to move now.
She gingerly walked across the landing into her mother’s bedroom. Moving with purpose, she navigated to the far nightstand and opened the top drawer. In plain view was a Colt Peacemaker pistol. She retrieved it, checked the cylinder to ensure bullets were loaded, and stuffed it into her hoodie pocket. She turned and quickly moved back to her room. Though she didn’t hear their voices, she was relieved as she closed her door behind her and locked it.
She stuffed the pistol into her backpack. Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she noticed the weight difference. No problem, though, she determined. Then she grabbed her cell phone and keys, and bounded cheerily down the stairs.
“Hey, Nina!” she said with enthusiasm as she leapt down the steps.
“Well, aren’t you enthused for having just gotten back from your father’s funeral?”
Amanda stopped her momentum briefly, but made it clear she was leaving by resting her hand on the front doorknob. Her other hand held her backpack strap across her shoulder. “I’m just glad it’s over, you know? Well, almost. But it’s going to be peaceful around here soon, you know? Anyway, you look nice. Gotta run.”
“You just got here.”
“I know. I’ve missed lots of school. Going to the library to catch up.”
“You can’t go anywhere dressed like that!”
Amanda paused a moment, taking notice of something that was out of synch. Her grandmother was standing there wearing a charcoal pantsuit with a brilliant pearl necklace. It wasn’t her attire, though. Always skeptical and cynical, Nina now seemed more so, if that was even possible. Amanda’s warning radar began to alert with a fine buzzing in her ears.
“Gotta run, Nina. Love you.”
As she drove along the highway, Harlan’s warning resonated in her mind like the lone flashing stoplight of a small country town.
Stay out of the way.
The Database
CHAPTER 67
Major General Griffin, the commander of the 101st Airborne Division, sat in his command and control UH-60 Blackhawk, staring at the barely lit screen of a map-board to his front. He was in the rear center seat with his fire support officer and operations officer huddled tightly on either side. The intelligence officer and Matt Garrett were conferring over their headsets on the rearward facing seats across from Griffin.
“The landing zones look good so far,” Matt said. “I was on these two the other day and we can get in there.”
“That’s in Pakistan,” Lieutenant Colonel Becky Jabonski said through the mouthpiece of her headset.
“No shit,” Matt said. Matt was strung out and short tempered, having immediately departed from Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland on a C-17 after the funeral and conducted two in-flight refuelings before landing at Bagram and almost immediately transitioning to Griffin’s command and control helicopter. All the while he was thinking, The Database is Always There.
“Team, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re inserting two battalions, about fifteen hundred troopers on the ground in the Northwest Frontier Province,” Griffin said. The interior cabin of the Blackhawk was dark as they flew from Bagram Air Base toward Jalalabad where they would refuel and then continue east into Pakistan.
“Mr. Garrett here is the agency representative on the ground that is going to ensure we have the right intelligence, get on the ground in the right areas, and attack the correct compounds. The mission is to disrupt Al Qaeda and Taliban sanctuaries sufficiently for them to either fight back or relocate. Either way, we’ve got them.”