“Good thinking. Where are you now?”
“Just around the block.”
“Wait.”
Pacelli drummed his fingers on the wheel nervously. He was just driving a cab, sent to pick someone up from a hotel. They couldn’t nail anyone for that, right? He wasn’t sure. From the things he heard, who knew what they could do these days?
* * *
The city of Chattanooga lay just under a hundred miles north of Atlanta in southeastern Tennessee, on the Tennessee River near the Georgia-Alabama line. Three large mountain masses overlooked it, each one of strategic importance and the scene of a major battle in the Civil War.
Marie and Len had arrived after an erratic tour through the Great Smoky range to find Olsen safely there too, several hours ahead of them. That had been over a week ago now. Their new temporary hideout until they were regrouped consisted of a double-width mobile home situated among trees on hilly ground to the north side of the city, between Signal Mountain and the river. Sharing the quarters with them were two other CounterAction people known only as “Vera” and “Bert,” both seemingly proficient, with another man that they referred to as “Otter.” Marie could tell that Otter was not from the organization. She got the feeling that he was in transit and temporary hiding, in the process of being moved to somewhere more permanent.
That Otter should in this way meet former members of the Scorpion cell that had been hurriedly disbanded was not accidental. Scorpion had been identified by the authorities, blamed for the assassinations that were partly the cause of the current unrest, and targeted for elimination. Otter apparently knew who had been responsible: an officer of the security forces themselves, acting on orders from a source close to the administration. Otter could name the officer and give the source of the Hyadean weapon that was used, which had come from a cache stolen in South America, later recovered but never acknowledged officially. It seemed that Otter was being taken to report his information to higher echelons of CounterAction, but the current disruptions and hasty relocations going on everywhere were slowing things down. Whoever was giving the orders had authorized Olsen to let Otter pass on what he knew in case Otter didn’t get to wherever he was being taken, and as a further precaution Olsen had included Marie. It wasn’t as if the information was something that Sovereignty would want kept secret.
Otter lay sprawled along a couch in the living area watching a movie. Bert was in a room at the back, sorting and checking through various items of equipment. Vera had kept night watch and was sleeping. The number of beds and amount of kit scattered through the rooms and closets suggested that more people used the place, but at present were elsewhere on undisclosed errands. Marie paced restlessly behind Olsen, who was seated at the table in the room that served as his quarters and office, talking to the taxi driver who had been sent to make the collection. He held the phone away suddenly, and cursed beneath his breath. “What is it?” Marie asked, going over.
“A woman showed, but it could be a setup. He thinks she’s being watched.”
“What?” Marie stared at the phone in his hand, as if it could tell her something. Roland wouldn’t be involved in something like that. Not knowingly, anyway. She felt embarrassed and guilty, as if she had led them into this. “I can’t believe it,” was all she could say.
“Let’s see what Len thinks.” Olsen used a mouse to click the “Call” box of a communications dialer already displayed on one of the screens in front of him. Moments later, Len’s voice answered from a connected speaker.
“Watcher here.”
Len was at the Metro in Atlanta, observing from back inside the motor lobby entrance. The situation had demanded that somebody else be on hand in case of problems developing, not just the cabbie. The phone that Len was carrying had a video pickup.
“Collector thinks the subject may have a tail,” Olsen said at the mike. “How do you read it?”
“Yes, I’ve got him too. The subject’s a woman. It looks like they know each other. Collector came by and then took off. Subject is making like `What do I do?’ The tail is shaking his head.” As Len spoke, the screen in front of Olsen switched to show a crazily angled shot of a woman in a light blue coat, wearing a yellow hat, standing beside two bags. Her face was indistinct in the light under the roof outside the lobby doors. She was looking to her right, then turned away in the other direction. The scene cavorted as the camera swung, then settled on a tall man in a light-colored jacket, keeping farther back in the shadows. The figure became clearer as Len moved out toward the doors, then jumped into closeup. It was a man his midthirties, angular cheeked with narrow eyes, and brown wavy hair combed back at both temples.