Code name, p.10
Code Name, page 10
The incessant rain was an advantage for another reason. He knew that those chasing him were miserable in this cold, wet weather. His initial pursuers were men from the security division of NIA. Mark thought about those men, clothed as he was himself, in a suit and street shoes. They were neither dressed nor equipped for a search of the forest.
Soon, others would be called in, and Mark thought he knew who they would be. The National Guard was conducting summer operations a few miles from NIA. Undoubtedly, Gates would call for its assistance, with the manpower and the equipment to conduct a search of the forest, even under these miserable conditions.
But Mark also understood their mental state. Their incentive for being out in the woods on such a lousy day was only to follow orders. On a personal level, they had no dog in this fight. They would be grumbling and cursing, anxious to get out of the woods, have a hot dinner, and sleep in a warm, dry bed.
Mark had a much stronger incentive – to save his life. No hot meal or warm bed this night, nor for many nights to come. Just stay alive. That’s enough.
****
“I looked at the sky,” Mark said. “It was black and turbulent, pouring its life out on this forest. This was good, because I knew that the worse the weather got, the poorer the soldiers’ attitudes. As attitudes fall, so does effectiveness. They might get careless and start to overlook things. They would inadvertently provide an opportunity for me to escape.
To help him evade the McGriff boys, Blake had taught him to do the unexpected. “Your enemy,” Blake said, “will try to anticipate your next move and be there to ambush you when you arrive. You win if you never show up where they’re waiting.”
****
Right now, standard logic dictated that Mark should run. Those involved in the search expected him to run straight and fast. That’s why the perimeter was drawn miles away – to catch him in a snare as he tried to escape pursuers chasing him from behind.
“Most people will take the path of least resistance – a road or a stream, some course that will be less difficult to travel, Blake had said. “So that’s where ambush points will be established.”
Mark knew that his pursuers anticipated traditional forms of transportation as escape routes. Every bus, train, boat and aircraft access point was watched. The search was organized to catch a runner.
What the search teams did not know was that Mark would not do the expected. He was not going to run. To run was to die, as the jaws of the trap closed around him. So he did not run.
“Sometimes, to get behind enemy lines, all you have to do is hide and wait,” Blake had taught. “Conceal yourself and allow the enemy to pass.”
Mark remembered the many times he had hidden in the bushes and let the twins walk past within feet of him. And they never knew it.
****
“Now was the time for that same tactic,” Mark said. “It allowed me to passively penetrate the rear guard and find myself inside a recently cleaned zone. From there, I worked my way back inside the NIA compound. No one was looking for me there. It was the most illogical thing for a man on the run to do.
“Once inside the compound, I needed to find a way out again; some way to transport me beyond the search perimeters without detection. That would be tricky.
“I figured it would take a while to bring in all the assets NIA wanted in this operation. I hadn’t heard the baying of search dogs yet. That would probably take a few hours to arrange.
“So far, I had heard no choppers overhead. The choppers were equipped with infrared scopes, and I expected to hear them beating the air before nightfall. I figured the real professionals would hit the ground and be in the air in a few hours. I had to move fast to break behind the lines and prepare for the full onslaught.”
****
Rainwater streamed down Mark’s face and he strained to see through the dim light and soft focus of the sodden forest. There, off to the left, he saw what he was searching for. It was an ancient tree, the lower trunk bent and leaning at a low angle. As a sapling, it had probably been fallen upon by another tree. There it grew, struggling against the weight, until finally the fallen tree decomposed and released its burden from the sapling. By then, the little tree’s lower trunk was permanently bent, forever destined to grow at an angle.
Now, nearly two feet in diameter at the base, the mature tree reached a height of more than forty feet. A few low branches offered handholds and footholds for climbing. Overhead a lush canopy spread its dark green cloak. It was just what he needed.
“People tend to look at the ground while they walk,” Blake had taught. “Rarely do they look upward very far, unless something attracts their attention.”
Mark studied the canopy, and the lower branches of this bent tree that would help him climb.
“The expectation,” Blake had said, “is that whoever they’re searching for will be on the ground, hiding in the brush, in a ditch, behind a tree, between some rocks. Those are the places most people hide.”
When it came to evading an enemy, Blake understood the expectations and the habits of the average man, and Mark would use that to his advantage. The angle of the lower trunk would allow him to climb with relative ease, making the ascent faster, quieter and safer.
He looked down at his dress shoes. They were a horrible choice for climbing trees, so he removed the shoes and his socks. Barefoot, with socks stuffed into shoes that were tied together and slung around his neck, Mark gripped the rough bark with claw-like fingers and climbed the lower trunk, his eyes on the thicket of branches above.
Twenty feet up was a crotch where two dominant branches split from the main trunk, forming an inverted tripod, a three-sided cradle.
From below, it was impossible to see much through the branches and foliage. That’ll make a good nest, he thought. I’ll just hunker down and wait for the troops to pass. Get a little rest, while those guys wear themselves out fighting the forest and the weather.
****
“I was soaked to the skin, and the wind sent a chill though my body. If I sat motionless in the tree, I knew I would eventually feel the effects of hypothermia.
“I was hungry, since I had missed lunch with Laura. I was shivering, and suddenly felt cold all the way to my bones. The adrenaline rush of the pursuit was wearing off, and I was suddenly very tired.
“I flipped up the lapels on my suit coat, pulled the collar tight around me to cover my white shirt and protect against the wind. Luckily, my coat was medium brown. The color was good camouflage, as I tucked myself into the shadows and branches high in the tree.
****
Suddenly, a voice shattered the silence. ‘Ericson, get over here!’”
Without moving more than his eyes, Mark looked at his watch. Less than an hour had passed. Already he heard approaching voices and the careless noise of men searching the underbrush with sheathed bayonets.
“Check out that pile of deadfall!”
“Yes, sir!”
Mark hoped that if he remained absolutely still, he would be safe where he was. He needed to pay close attention to what was going on around him, but he couldn’t quit thinking about Laura and the child she was carrying. Where was she now? It would take ingenuity and a great deal of luck for her to get out of the office safely, after reading his folded note. Then she’d be on her own.
A sudden flood of guilt swept over him. He had left her in such a dangerous spot. How could any man do that to the one he loved? Yet that was the plan they had worked out for a scenario in which they were separated at the critical moment of escape.
He remembered the first night they had talked about forming a contingency strategy. “Are we just being paranoid?” Mark had wondered out loud.
“If we were normal people, I’d say yes,” Laura answered. “But we’re not. Because of the work we do, we are at unusual risk. Look what happened in Chile and Yugoslavia, not to mention the Soviet Union. It’s foolish to pretend those things could never happen here, to us. I think we’re just being smart to develop a plan, even though I’m sure we’ll never use it. What could it hurt?”
They spent many nights studying maps, talking about every possible turn of events – where to go, how to live, how to change their identities, what to do if they became separated. The routine continued for several weeks, then months, until they hammered out a final contingency plan, just in case it ever became necessary for them to drop out of sight, unlikely as that ever would be.
But the unlikely had happened. Not because of a political overthrow, but because of a traitor in a high position who had a secret and would stop at nothing to protect it. Now Laura was destined to walk right into the trap as she returned to work from her doctor’s appointment. Once inside, he feared she might be trapped in the building, hauled into Gates’ office and grilled, considered guilty by the simple fact of being married to Mark.
He weighed the possibilities. She had no knowledge of Blake’s journal. Even under intense interrogation, she had nothing to tell. Maybe Gates would let her go. But then maybe he wouldn’t, figuring she could be used as bait, or simply disposed of to limit the liabilities.
Fighting to hold down his emotions, he decided to follow the plan they had agreed upon, and let Laura work out her escape as soon as she had the chance. Still, maybe there was something he could do to help her.
It had been easy to formulate the plan in a time of calm. But it was gut-wrenching to follow the strategy, now that the worst had happened and he and Laura were separated. During all those late-night planning sessions, they had never factored in Laura as a late-term pregnant woman.
He was exhausted, drained as much from the emotional energy spent worrying about Laura as from the physical demands of avoiding capture. An exhausted body will begin to fumble and make mistakes. An exhausted mind makes bad decisions. He knew he needed rest. There was nothing else he could do right now anyway.
“Novak!” the voice barked again, this time very close below him.
He heard feet slogging over the sodden ground.
“You and Ericson and Klein get over here!”
“Sir!”
Troops swarmed around the base of the tree, directly below his perch high above the forest floor where Mark was wedged in a cradle of branches, hidden from view by nothing more than a veil of leaves.
Mark rested his head against the trunk, closed his eyes and listened to the voices below him.
“You two keep your eyes high. I want you looking up every tree. This guy could be part squirrel. You got that?”
“Yes, sir,” two voices answered.
Just my luck, Mark thought: one guy who knows his business. Then he heard them move off. Perfect. Go look up some other tree.
A breeze stirred the leaves and then rose to a strong wind that whined through the branches, and the voices fell away into the distance. He heaved a silent sigh and let his muscles relax.
In his mind, he played out the scenario. Soon this phase of the search would pass and he would face the full fury of a relentless pursuit by the best of the NIA He needed his strength and a clear mind. Right now, he needed to rest from the chase for a few minutes, let the search take its course and pass by below him. He needed to clear his mind and contrive his next move.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Pages 64–72, notebook #1 (Spence, this concludes notebook #1. RJ)
“I can’t wait to tell Mark the good news,” Laura told the receptionist at the doctor’s office, as she scheduled the next appointment. The doctor had said the baby was doing fine. Her health was good and she saw no problems ahead.
Rain was falling hard as she drove into the NIA parking lot, but the weather didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. Having a baby was what she had always hoped for and dreamed about. Life is perfect, she thought.
Caught up in her daydreams, she barely noticed the army trucks parked in the lot. It was only because the Military Police guard at the gate stopped her that she knew something was wrong. After showing the MP her identification card, he waved her through and she drove to her reserved space.
Uniformed military guards were everywhere, searching among the cars in the parking lot and the perimeter of the grounds near the fence. She watched for a moment, wondered what they were looking for, then stepped out of the car and ducked through the rain toward the main door. Inside, she approached the security station.
Judy Miller had just come back from her lunch break and had missed all the excitement. She was a matronly lady with graying hair and a plump stature and whose job it was to check ID cards and operate the palm scanner.
“What’s up with all the uniforms?” Laura asked as she checked through the security station.
Judy shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Nobody ever tells me anything. Looks like the invasion of Normandy, but do they tell me anything? No! I swear, how am I supposed to do my job, making sure no unauthorized personnel get in here? All those men look unauthorized to me.” She waved her arm at the glass door and the soldiers beyond. “Well I’ll tell you,” she exclaimed, getting all wound up, “not one of them is getting past this desk unless I get some answers.”
Laura caught the elevator and then walked to her office. It was just after lunchtime, and she expected to find Mark waiting for her. But Mark was nowhere to be seen. Most puzzling was that several Internal Affairs people were in his office rummaging through his desk and file cabinets.
Confused at the scene, she walked to Sandy’s desk. “What’s going on?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she said under her breath. She glanced furtively at Mark’s office. “About an hour ago, Mr Benton was summoned to Mr Gates’ office. He was lead away by Larry Rogers.”
Laura gasped. “Lead away?”
“That’s the last I saw of him. Then suddenly all these Internal Affairs people showed up and started going through his stuff. Oh … by the way, as he was leaving, he said he wanted to meet you at the usual place for lunch.”
Laura looked toward the empty bench by the window and then walked slowly toward it. Maybe she should wait for Mark there. Maybe he’ll be back soon.
But why were all those men in his office, literally turning it upside down? She watched them for a moment, searching through papers, opening drawers, sifting through files in the cabinet, like detectives examining a crime scene.
The light patter of rain against the glass caught her attention, and she turned to look at the bench. She stepped closer and noticed a tiny piece of paper half hidden in the pleated upholstery. It was folded in a triangle – a note from Mark. It was his cryptic way of saying, “I love you,” three words represented by the three points of the triangle. It was just a little something only they understood: a secret symbol of his devotion.
She picked up the note and unfolded it. There were only two letters on the paper – an X and an O. It appeared they had been quickly scribbled, as if he had been in a rush.
She stared at the small scrap of paper, hardly believing what she saw: an X and an O. To anyone else, this would look like a love note conveying a hug and a kiss. But to her, it was a code that signaled the end of life as they had known it, and the beginning of a life in exile.
“Are you Laura Benton?” A voice startled her from behind. “Are you Mark Benton’s wife?”
She spun around and faced the inquisitor. He wore a dark suit and a badge indicating he was from Internal Affairs. She recognized him as one of the men who had been in Mark’s office only a moment ago. She glanced toward his office and saw that two other men stood staring in their direction.
“You are Laura Benton, aren’t you?” he asked again.
“Yes. Why do you ask? Who are you? What’s going on?”
“Settle down. We’ll ask the questions, and it would be better for you if you cooperated.”
“Cooperated? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“What’s that in your hand? Give it to me, please.” He nodded toward the note and then he simply reached out and took it from her.
“X and O,” he mumbled to himself. “How sweet – a love note from your husband,” he said sarcastically, then crumpled the note in a clenched fist and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket. “Too bad you’ll never see him again.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because your husband is a traitor,” he nearly spit the words at her. “He’s betrayed the company, and now he’s running like a dog, leaving you behind. But we’ll catch him, and when we do … well, we know how to take care of people like him.”
Elizabeth Mabrey stepped behind the man. “That’s enough, Jackson. Back off and let me handle this.”
She was a woman, and some people saw that as a drawback, but Elizabeth Mabrey was in command at Internal Affairs and nobody argued that fact with her. Jackson rejoined the other men in Mark’s office, and the door slammed shut.
“What’s going on, Liz?” Laura asked, trying to control the tremble in her voice.
“Sit down, Laura. Something terrible has happened, and Mark is right in the middle of it. I’m afraid that puts you in the middle, too.”
Laura sat on the bench next to the woman she considered to be her friend, and listened to a story she knew to be false.
“Mark has stolen some highly classified documents and sold them to East German intelligence agents. According to Deputy Director Gates, the company has been watching him for months.”
“That can’t be!”
“After gathering enough evidence, Larry Rogers was sent to take him into custody. But Mark broke free, injured Rogers badly, sending him to the hospital, and ran from the building.”
“I can’t believe all this,” Laura cried.
“Mark disappeared into the forest. A company of National Guardsmen from a training camp a few miles away has been brought in for the initial search. State police and other agencies have secured a wide perimeter, and all routes of escape are covered. Laura; we’ll have him back in custody quickly.” Elizabeth Mabrey sounded so certain.
