Correll - 5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors

Suddenly, eyes wide open.

She took a breath and then held it. Molly didnt dare move but her eyes scanned the ceiling left to right. The darkness seemed to be hiding something. Her neck craned to the left and the window of her hotel room. There was some feeble light from far fewer street lights and signs that made the blackness turn grey. Yes, just enough luminosity to give substance to shadows. Now, her imagination had something to work with.

Was he back? That one who had reached out of the car window and grabbed her in Cleveland? Stop. She exhaled. The one who touched her leg in Washington, was he here? Stop. She felt a cold chill caress her ankle. Thats right where he touched you, isnt it? Imagination ignored the plea and played on. Perhaps it was that girl from the highway that had far away eyes on the road to Huntington. It was like she was listening to music. She had followed you all the way here.

Stop, Molly finally whispered to an empty room.

She sat upright in the queen sized bed. Her fingers gripped the covers tightly. At any second she was ready to pull the bed linen up as a feeble defense to whatever lunged out of the shadows. We just dont wake up like we used to. Her breathing felt more controlled now. Primal fear is our passage from slumber. Thats what happens when youre the prey. Mollys eyes carefully scanned the room, watching the darkness for anything out of the ordinary. The chair was still a chair. The desk had not moved one iota in the few hours she had been asleep.

It winked at her. From the corner of her eye she saw it. A reddish hue played the game of there/not there in the shadows. Now you see me now, now you dont. It was there, Molly watched the black canvas for a repeat, a confirmation.

There it was. She was on her feet now. Fuck the dark. Her Blackberry winked again.

Her fingers easily found the plastic case without any enablement of light. Molly had done this so many times. The Blackberry couldnt resist one more playful twinkle in the dark before her fingers lit up the faceplate. Messages: one. She tapped the icon.

You have one new message. The screen was black with white lettering. Mollys thumb tapped the keyboard and cut to the chase as her left hand turned on the lights. It was on messenger.

I do hope this note from an old friend finds you well . The words took shape on her screen. I just thought it was strange to see General Beauregards forces so far into Kentucky territory .

What are you up to, General? She heard her own voice from a few hours ago. The answer had arrived. Molly thumbed the two attachments. The first was a map display. A teardrop was hovering over two intersecting ribbons of roadway. The Deacon had been close to Louisville.

What were you doing there so late at night, my friend? Molly let that thought file itself away as she tapped the second icon on the message, a jpg.

The picture was crystal clear in the Kentucky rain. A multi wheeled metal machine. Molly tried to access her limited military knowledge and came up blank. Was it a tank? Armored car maybe? Perched on top was a figure facing forward with his left shoulder to the camera. The mans helmeted head had turned abruptly in the rain to face his photographer. A perfect O of surprise and guilt formed on his mouth. Mollys fingers touched the screen and began zooming in on an emblem on the vehicles side.

There.right there on the side of..whatever it was. It was a tree of some kind. Mollys eyes became intense and a touch wider. She had seen it a few times on flags and uniforms while she was in Huntington, The Republic of West Virginia.

Damn. She whispered. Molly carefully slowed her fingers and became deliberate. The information was saved in her phone with the care of a geologist opening a mummys tomb. She turned on her lap top and fished around in her Louis Vuitton bag for a cord. She plugged the cord into her Blackberry and the other into her laptop as it obediently awakened from its electric dreams.

Molly had suspicions that Beauragard was watching her email and listening in to her calls. If you had the right gear it was a piece of cake to do both. Marshall University was nearby and had a reputation for smart minds and high tech toys. The General had both at his command. The old school information passage was completed. Molly then filed the jpg and map away in the hard drive of her laptop and then replaced the cord in the Louis Vuitton. She reached for her Blackberry and thumbed down the phone directory. It was time to wake some people up.

They could be listening in. Her lips pursed for a second before her left hand found the secure Blackberry the military had provided. I got to find me a ride, her mouth creased to one side as she counted out her options. The Blackberry purred in her ear and CBS news promptly answered.

This is Molly Hunter. Her voice was all business and crystal clear.

Yes, Ms. Hunter. The man on the night desk vocally snapped to attention. How can I help you?

It turned out he couldnt help that much. The guy had all the right numbers at his fingertips. That wasnt the problem. Molly hated the next twenty minutes of call after call. She had to be somewhere and she had to be somewhere now. Every conversation went into elaborate detail of why Molly couldnt get there.

We just cant do it, Ms. Hunter. A pilot explained over and over. Im sorry.

How can you do it? Molly pushed. Trying to drag him out of the logistical box he was in.

Maam, CBS has commercial helicopters. The pilot had reached a dead end. We could fly out and try and pick you up.

And?

Well, first off. The guy was riding a fine line between politeness and exasperation. Theyd hear us way before we landed. Wed get blown out of the sky or arrested the minute we touched down. On top of that, wed be out of fuel.

Okay. Molly eased up and tried another route. How do I get there?

The bridges are probably all guarded by the Republics forces so you cant drive. The pilot paused for a second before continuing. Ms. Hunter, those things are everywhere on the highway. Please tell me youre not thinking of driving.

I will if we dont come up with something. She threatened.

Im trying to tell you, Ms. Hunter. The pilot was right and she knew it. It just burned to hear why you couldnt do something instead of why you could. Commercial helicopters do not have that kind of range.

Okay, I Molly heard the words he spoke inside her head for a second. It became a translation of what he was really saying. Her tone changed as soon as the right words clicked and made sense.

So wait, there are helicopters that can make this journey? The velvet voice of the girl with a plan probed further.

Im sure the military has a few but thats..

Youve 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, Im asking you to be reasonable. The desk officer at the Pentagon balled his free hand in frustration.

I am being reasonable. Mollys saccharine voice replied. She almost batted her eyes sweetly to no one in particular.

Just tell us where his forces are. He tried again.