Chapter 6 #2
Marta ducked into the bathroom, made use of the facilities and stripped out of the coveralls.
She pulled on the skirt and blouse, admiring how light and breezy they felt after wearing the same outfit for the past six weeks, and then the coveralls that smelled of aviation fuel and oil despite having been cleaned.
Her shoes were the serviceable loafers she’d worn with her slacks and blouse when she’d been abducted.
They didn’t really go with the skirt, but the hem hid them well enough.
A quick glance in the ancient mirror over the pedestal sink made her grimace.
She’d washed her hair before they’d boarded the plane.
Normally, she pulled it back into a tight ponytail at the back of her neck.
Without anything to secure it, it had dried in a mass of curls and waves.
She ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it into something that didn’t make her look like a wildling. After a few moments, she gave up.
When she emerged, she found Crusher had changed into the white shirt but had rejected the shorts, preferring the cargo pants he’d worn under the coveralls.
Stewart handed Crusher a cell phone and a piece of paper.
“That’s a burner phone, and on the paper is the address where my mother lives.
It’s within walking distance. When you arrive, knock on the back door.
She’s expecting you. I’d take you there, but I have more work to do, and the internet speed is faster here. ”
“We can manage.” Crusher took the paper and entered the address into the burner phone’s GPS. He held out his hand to Stewart. “Thank you for everything.”
Stewart took his hand. “No problem. I’ll bring your travel itinerary with me later.”
Marta glanced toward the computer on Stewart’s desk. “Is it possible for me to use a computer and the internet either here or at your mother’s?”
The younger man frowned. “It’s possible.”
“I assume that since you do your own share of hacking, you have safeguards in place to keep anyone from tracing you to this location.” She met Stewart’s gaze and held it.
Stewart nodded. “I do.”
She gave him a brief smile. “I’ve done a fair bit of hacking myself and need to get into a research database. I could use help, if you have time. I promise, it’s not to conduct illegal activities.”
He waved his hand. “When I get back to my mother’s, I’ll help. The computer there is similarly secure.”
“Thank you,” she said and met Crusher’s gaze.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
Crusher led the way out of the basement and up the stairs, checking all around before he allowed Marta to emerge.
They moved through alleys and less busy streets for the few blocks to Stewart’s mother’s house, approaching the small cottage from the rear. Crusher knocked on the back door.
A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman with brown hair and brown eyes opened the door and stepped back. “Please, come in.”
“You’re alone?” Crusher asked softly.
She nodded.
Crusher entered, looked around and then nodded to Marta. She stepped through the door.
Stewart’s mother poked her head out the back and looked right and left. Then she closed the door and locked it. When she turned, she smiled warmly and held out her hand to Marta first. “I’m Liza Eppley, Stewart’s mom.”
Marta took the woman’s hand, glad to be in the company of another woman after so many weeks in the company of men. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Eppley. I’m Marta Hale.”
“The scientist. Please,” she said, “call me Liza.” She released Marta’s hand and held out her hand to Crusher. “You must be Crusher. Royce had good things to say about you.”
Crusher took the woman’s hand. “I understand you’re prior service, Army,” he said.
She nodded. “Supply and logistics. I met Royc when he and his team rescued our convoy when we were trapped in a pass in Afghanistan. I was injured. He was the one who carried me to the helicopter that airlifted us out.” She smiled. “He’s a good man.”
“Yes,” Crusher nodded, “he is.”
She dropped her hand. “Anyway, I have a pot of beef goulash simmering. It’s not typical food you find in Panama, but Stewart loves it. Are you hungry?”
Marta’s mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled. “Very. Should we wait for Stewart?”
Liza shook her head. “There’s no telling when he’ll be in. If you’re hungry, we can eat now. Most likely, he’ll be back after dark.”
“Are you sure you want us here?” Marta asked. “A Colombian cartel is tracking us. That could put you and Stewart at risk.”
Liza nodded. “I understand. But I’m sure you’ve taken precautions to get here. Royce asked me to find you a place to stay. I insisted you stay with us. I owe him a lot. The least I can do is help out his friends.”
“Thank you,” Crusher said.
“I have one guest bedroom I rent out as a bed and breakfast. It has a separate entrance on the side of the house. I thought Marta could have the bedroom, and Crusher could sleep on the sofa.”
Crusher frowned. “Is the sofa in the guest portion of the house?”
Liza’s brow wrinkled. “I was thinking about the sofa in the living room on this side.”
Before she finished talking, Crusher was already shaking his head. “I’ll sleep on the floor of the guest bedroom. Dr. Hale is my responsibility. I can’t protect her if I can’t see or get to her.”
Liza looked from Crusher to Marta.
Marta nodded. “He can stay in the room with me.” After all they’d been through together and with the threat of being found all too real, she didn’t want Crusher out of her sight any more than he wanted her out of his sight.
Liza smiled. “Then I’ll make up a pallet on the floor of the bedroom.”
“I can do that,” Crusher said.
“I’ll get the blankets and pillows for you after we eat.” Liza led the way into a dining room that opened off the kitchen. “You can have a seat anywhere you like. I’ll just be a minute. I wanted to cut up a salad and pop some bread rolls in the oven.”
“Let me help,” Marta said. “If you point me in the right direction, I’ll cut the salad while you handle the bread.”
“I can set the table if you promise we’ll only use one fork,” Crusher offered with a crooked smile.
Liza laughed. “We only use one fork in this house.” She pointed to the silverware drawer and the cabinet with the dishes and glasses.
Between the three of them, they managed to finish preparations for dinner and had just settled around the table when Stewart arrived and joined them.
Marta had expected he’d come with some printouts of their itinerary. He showed up empty-handed.
Liza set another place at the table and smiled. “I’m so glad you made it in time to join us.”
He took a bread roll from the basket in the middle of the table. “As it turns out, I couldn’t make any flight arrangements for you two,” he said. “My sources tell me Vasquez has people at the airport, looking for you. You can’t fly out of here or any airports nearby.”
Marta shot a concerned glance toward Crusher. “We can’t take forever getting out of here,” she murmured.
Crusher nodded. “And we can’t let Vasquez get his hands on you.” He turned to Stewart. “What’s the plan?”
“Your transport will arrive early tomorrow morning to take you out of Panama.” He slathered butter on his bread roll.
“How will he get us out?” Crusher asked.
“You’ll be going cross-country in the back of a delivery van. Your escort will fill you in on all the details.” Stewart took a bite of his roll as if to end that line of questioning.
Marta’s stomach sank. While they were burning through time trying to get somewhere, Vasquez could have someone else working on perfecting the virus's release. Her knee bounced quietly beneath the table. She had so much adrenaline coursing through her veins that she needed to move. To do something.
A hand settled over her thigh and squeezed gently. She locked gazes with Crusher.
In his gentle touch, he seemed to be saying that everything would be all right.
She hoped he was right.
In the meantime, she fought to appear calm as they finished eating.
“I’ll wash, if someone will dry,” Liza called out as she carried dishes toward the sink.
“I’ll dry,” Crusher offered.
“I’ll be in my room,” Stewart said and left the kitchen.
Marta followed. “Stewart,” she called out.
He stopped and turned back toward her, a frown pulling his brow low. Then he nodded, and the frown disappeared. “Oh, right. You wanted me to get you logged onto the internet.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, please.”
“You can use my mother’s computer. It’s in her office.
” He led the way to the back of the house and into a small room barely large enough for a little desk and a tiny bookshelf.
The room didn’t have a window, making Marta think it had been a closet before being converted into an office.
A large monitor sat on the desktop with a keyboard and mouse.
“Mom uses this to run her bed and breakfast. She spends more time day trading than anything else. We don’t get too many visitors as we’re a little far off the beaten path.” He sat in the chair and touched the mouse.
The monitor blinked to life.
Stewart entered a password, and a browser appeared.
“It’s all yours.” He rose and stepped back, allowing Marta to sit.
She sank into the chair and rested her hand on the mouse. “Are you sure people can’t trace back to this IP address?”
“Positive. I learned my lesson in Chicago. I have a network of redirection to keep that from happening. Hack away,” he said, and left the room.
Marta accessed the World Health Organization website and slipped into one of the backdoors she’d created when she’d seen the writing on the wall with the incoming administration.
She’d known the CDC would be impacted and had put several safeguards in place that would allow her to access information she’d helped to compile with the research she’d conducted over the past decade—not only at the CDC but also with the other organizations that had relied on her research, especially when that research had a global impact.