Infringement Read online

  “Looks like you’ve got some full cruisers,” Louis said to the trooper.

  “Yeah, just some rioters we picked up a bit ago.”

  Louis stopped and looked back at Jessica in the car. “You know, the girl in there, I know her. She helped me out of a tight spot with some rioters earlier tonight. She’s not a rioter, but I think she works down here cleaning offices in one of the high rises or something.”

  “That’s what she told us, but her story didn’t entirely wash after we ran her through our system.”

  “How’d she get roughed up?”

  “She fell while running from us. Accidents happen.”

  “If it helps, I can vouch for her. I saw her coming out of one of the buildings with a co-worker earlier.”

  “Sorry, I can’t let her go.”

  “But, I know she didn’t do anything tonight. She wasn’t one of the protestors.”

  “Look,” the trooper responded impatiently, “I’d like to help, but there’s nothing I can do. Lamar is just ahead, the next intersection. You’d better get going.”

  “But,…”

  The trooper cut him off, “I’m a fan of your work, but, like I said, there’s nothing I can do. Unless you want to join her, I suggest you get moving.”

  Louis saw his cab pull up at the intersection ahead, and looked back at the cruiser for a second, somewhat conflicted. “Okay, okay. Can you tell me one thing though?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Where will she be taken?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, officially, but if I had to guess, I’d say she’ll be processed through the detention facility in Fort Worth. That’s where some of the other rioters who’ve been picked up tonight were taken. After that, who knows?”

  “Fort Worth?”

  “That’d be my unofficial bet.”

  “Alright, thanks. I appreciate it.” Louis said, and headed quickly toward the taxi.

  “No problem. I’d like to be more helpful. I even sympathize with some of the protestors, but there’s nothing I can do to release her.”

  _______________________

  A scream pierced the late night silence of the lake house, causing Mrs. Parker to shoot up out of bed and rush, in a panic, to the other bedroom. Her grandchildren, Will and Charlotte, were alone, sleeping soundly beneath the warm down blankets. She turned and hurried into the living room, where Michelle sat breathless and stricken on the sofa.

  “Are you okay? I heard a scream.”

  “I’m okay,” Michelle whispered, still trying to catch her breath. “It was just a dream.”

  “I’ll sit with you.”

  “Thanks. I had a dream about Evan. We were walking together with the babies. Out of nowhere, and for no reason, someone shot him in the head and he died right there. His blood was all over me.”

  “It was only a dream, my dear. I’m sure Evan is just fine. He’ll be here in the morning.”

  “I hope so, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

  _______________________

  Jessica’s head kept falling forward slightly as she tried to keep her eyes open. The Homeland cruiser sped along the highway in the direction of Fort Worth. Her head hurt and her lower lip had begun to swell painfully. The adrenaline that had sustained her for much of the night had finally worn off and it took every ounce of energy she had just to keep her eyes open. She thought of her bed at home and wanted nothing more than to fall into it and sleep for days, or better yet, weeks.

  The Homeland troopers had put her brother, Aiden, into the other cruiser with another protestor they’d picked up. She had no idea if they’d end up in the same facility or what to expect, but she was desperate to sleep and, finally, stopped fighting the ever-strengthening sense of fatigue and closed her eyes.

  Jessica’s thoughts wandered off, far away from the backseat of the Homeland cruiser to the warmth of the sun beating down on her skin and the subtle rhythm of waves flirting with the seashore. The ocean water enveloped her sandy toes then receded again, and the pattern repeated itself as she sat looking out over the ocean to the blue horizon.

  “Hey, wake up,” a faint voice said. “Hey, I said wake up.”

  Jessica pulled her heavy head up from the car seat. It took her a second to adjust to reality again, but when the grogginess from her all too brief sleep had been shaken off, she looked around and realized the cruiser had stopped again. The Homeland trooper was sitting in the backseat, next to Jessica, his thigh touching hers.

  She asked the trooper, “Where are we?”

  “Arlington, near Cowboy Stadium.”

  “Why are we here?”

  “You said that you were only working downtown tonight and weren’t part of the riots.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I believe you, but, you’re a damn pretty girl, so I figured I’d stop here for some privacy and give you a chance to earn your freedom.”

  Chapter 43

  The minty aroma of eucalyptus wafted lightly through the open window with the rays of warm morning sun. The heat of the sun felt refreshing on Declan’s cheek and he opened his eyes after one of the deepest sleeps he could remember. He sat up slightly and breathed in the eucalyptus-tinged Andean air. Megan’s side of the bed was empty and he could hear movement and rustling in the house.

  With a bit of effort and soreness, Declan sat completely upright and, leaning against the window sill, pulled himself up to see what was outside. A moist breeze enveloped him and his eyes immediately feasted upon the serene idyllic beauty of the Urubamba Valley, or as it was called by the Incans who lived there centuries earlier, the Sacred Valley.

  His window opened onto a lush well-kept garden, overflowing with color and vibrancy. Declan watched for a few minutes as a hummingbird hovered and flittered just above a collection of bright-red zinnias a few feet from him. The garden sat overlooking the green fertile Sacred Valley, with the snaking Urubamba River below and countless ancient Inca terraces neatly climbing the mountainsides. The whole scene struck Declan as paradise and he stood silently trying to take it all in, trying to fill each of his senses with the beauty that surrounded him.

  “Hey, you’re up,” he heard Megan say behind him.

  Declan turned around and smiled at her, asking, “Where are we?”

  Megan set down a steaming tea cup she’d brought in and walked over to Declan at the window. “It doesn’t suck does it?”

  “Far from it,” he replied. “I thought I may have actually died overnight and this was heaven.”

  “No such luck, Declan Parker,” she said and kissed him. “If that was the case, I’m not so sure I’d be here.”

  “Seriously, is this your uncle’s house?”

  “No, my uncle’s house is the bigger one a little further up the mountainside. This is one of the guest houses. My mom’s family has owned this hacienda going back to the early-1700’s.”

  “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “I know.”

  “How long are we going to be here?”

  “Who knows? Forever maybe.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Declan replied as he looked back out over the garden. “Forever sounds good to me.”

  “Here, drink this,” Megan said picking up the tea cup.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s coca tea. It’s good for you. Andeans swear by it and it’ll help your head and the healing process.”

  Declan took a sip. “It’s good, kinda like a green tea.”

  “Sort of. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good, I’ll bring breakfast in. Atau made scrambled eggs, Andean potatoes and quinoa pancakes.”

  “What kind of pancakes?”

  “Don’t worry about it, you’ll like them.”

  “Can we eat in the garden?”

  “Do you think you’re up to it?”

  “Absolutely. I can’t think of anything that would make me feel better than being out there, with you,
in all that beauty.”

  “Okay, the garden it is then. It’s a rare sunny day during the rainy season. We may as well take advantage of it. I’ll ask Atau to get a table set.”

  Chapter 44

  Evan sat, handcuffed to a steel chair, in the center of a nondescript windowless room. He was unbearably sore from head to toe. The handcuffs seemed to him practically unnecessary as he suspected he couldn’t lift either of his arms anyway. Pain throbbed throughout his bruised and beaten body.

  “The Lord is my light,” he whispered slowly to himself, “and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life. Of whom should I be afraid? When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear. Though war break out against me, even then will I be confident.”

  A door opposite Evan opened and John Bleeker entered, along with two other men who took up positions against the wall on either side of Bleeker. Evan looked up to see Bleeker approaching him and whispered again, “The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?”

  Picking up on what seemed to him as Evan’s mumbling, Bleeker asked, “What was that?”

  Evan looked up at him and mustered an intentionally ironic smile, but said nothing.

  “I see, still not going to say anything. That’s okay, you will in time, and I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “I’ve already told you, I’m not talking to anyone until I’m allowed to see my attorney,” Evan responded softly, the pain and soreness in his jaw preventing him from speaking with any level of forcefulness.

  “I thought we covered this last night. You’re being held as a suspected domestic terrorist, Dr. Parker.”

  “Suspected of what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, attempting to blow up the White House maybe. Who cares? It really doesn’t matter because I’ve got you pursuant to the NDAA, and under the NDAA you don’t get counsel, nor do you get to go until I say you do. You’ve got a better chance of talking to Abe Lincoln than you do of talking to your attorney. It’s not going to happen. So, you can tell me where your brother and the girlfriend went or we can go another round with my friends here. Your choice.”

  Evan sat silently, looking straight ahead at Bleeker.

  “Fine, have it your way. He’s all yours, gentlemen,” Bleeker said, as he turned and left the room with a dismissive wave. Feigning no attempt to hide his eagerness, the agent on the left reached down into a blue plastic bucket filled with water and pulled a wet faceless hood out. He approached Evan, who merely closed his eyes and tried to ready himself for what he knew would come, and placed the hood over Evan’s head and face. A few seconds later, Evan felt his head being jerked backwards and the rush of water pouring onto his face and mouth. His body jerked uncontrollably as he struggled to breathe and to fight the painful panicked sensation that he was drowning.

  _______________________

  After cleaning up and getting a few hours sleep, Louis Martino took a shuttle back to DFW International Airport, rebooked himself on a flight into David Ben-Gurion Airport leaving later that evening and rented a car for the day. He left the airport and headed to the relatively obscure federal detention facility in Fort Worth, where he hoped to find out something about Jessica Ehlers.

  About an hour later, after getting lost a few times, Louis arrived at the inward facing barbwire fences surrounding the modestly marked facility. He could see Homeland personnel trucks moving about, and with some straining, was able to make out the Homeland Security and Federal Emergency Management Agency logos on many of the trucks and vans inside the facility. After a few minutes, Louis approached what appeared to be a main entrance, which was manned by what appeared to be armed, plain-clothes, private security personnel. As his rental car approached, one of them waved Louis to a stop.

  “This is a restricted area, sir.”

  “I understand. I’m trying to locate a woman who was mistakenly arrested with protestors in downtown Dallas last night. One of the Homeland troopers told me she’d likely be processed here.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not aware of any such processing.”

  “Were any of the protestors brought here last night or this morning? Is this a federal prison?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the nature of the facility, sir, other than to inform you that it is a restricted area and you’ll need to leave.”

  “I can’t go in and ask about the woman I’m looking for?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

  “I have press credentials. Does that help?”

  “No, sir, it doesn’t. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to turn around and leave the area.”

  “But I haven’t actually gotten into the area yet,” Louis replied. “I’m still on the street.”

  “Sir, you’re going to have to leave the area. Please turn your vehicle around and go back the way you came. This is a…”

  “I know,” Louis cut him off, “it’s a restricted area. I got it.”

  “Have a good day, sir.”

  Louis rolled up his window, turned the rental car around, and began driving back in the direction he’d come from. As he looked back at the security personnel at the check point in his rear view mirror, he saw a silver unmarked sedan exit the facility and proceed to follow his car. From what he could tell, there were two men in the sedan, which followed him until he’d left the area completely and got on the highway headed back toward Dallas.

  Chapter 45

  Despite the nearly constant drizzle, Declan spent as much time as he could in the garden overlooking the Urubamba Valley below. He spent hours counting the visible Incan terraces and tracing them up the mountainsides and along the river banks, trying to imagine what the area must have looked like hundreds of years earlier when the Incas populated the region.

  The climate, cuisine and sheer beauty of the Peruvian Andes agreed with Declan. He’d never seen such an awesome and stunning place before, so different in every respect than anything he’d known in the United States. His energy and strength increased steadily, as did his appetite, both physically and spiritually.

  Atau, the young man of Quechua descent who cooked the meals and was responsible for overseeing the care of the guest house in which Declan and Megan were staying, had set up a comfortable chaise lounge and small table under a canopy in the garden for Declan. Noticing Declan’s interest in the Incan terraces and the Sacred Valley more generally, Atau had brought out a few books written in English about the Incas and Peru. Declan spent most of the day reading about the Incas and the Andes. He also began delving more and more deeply into his Bible.

  He wasn’t quite sure why exactly, but something about reading his Bible in that setting, amidst the seemingly endless beauty surrounding him, brought the pages to life for Declan. He read about Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden in Genesis 2 and tried to imagine a setting more scenic, more perfect than the one he was in. It wasn’t that Declan fully believed yet, or at least he hadn’t yet acknowledged a renewed belief in God. However, something was undeniably drawing him, pulling on him, calling him if you will, and for the first time since his dad had passed away, Declan wasn’t inclined to fight it. Whatever, or whoever, it was.

  _______________________

  British Airways Flight 167 touched down at David Ben-Gurion International Airport. After collecting his bag and clearing customs and immigration, Louis Martino caught a cab for the relatively short drive to Jerusalem.

  The taxi driver asked in English, “Where are you headed?”

  “To the King David Hotel.”

  “You’ll like the King David very much. In my opinion, the top hotel in Jerusalem.”

  “Oh, I’m not staying there. I wish I were. I’m staying at the Crowne Plaza, but I’m a journalist, so I’m headed to the King David first for the press conference with the Foreign Minister and to see what kind of newsworthy gossip I can pick
up. Do you live in Jerusalem?”

  “Yes.”

  “How have things been? It seems pretty quiet at the moment.”

  “It’s the calm before the storm so to speak, I fear. Jerusalem has been relatively safe. Tel Aviv, as you probably know, was hit. The rocket fire has been almost constant near the borders. The airport, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem are very well protected, relatively quiet the last couple days, but most think that’s going to change soon as the IDF response accelerates.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we’re about to find ourselves engaged in an all-out war very soon. Maybe hours, maybe days. But, we’re ready. The IDF, our leaders and our people are well prepared. We’ll come out of it stronger than before. ‘Never again’ we say, ‘never again.’ If you’ve come for news, you’ll have no trouble. It will find you soon enough.”

  _______________________

  Having heard nothing from Evan, Michelle left the children in the care of her mother-in-law and drove back into the city to try and find him or find out what had happened to him. With the ongoing protests and riots, conditions in the city had devolved into something just shy of chaos.

  Already concerned foreign markets had significantly tapered their purchase of U.S. treasury bonds, which had sparked a minor sell off. The interest rate on 10 year treasury bonds had shot up over 200% and the U.S. dollar’s continued reign as the world reserve currency was in doubt as governments and institutional investors around the world, fearing a potential civil war in the United States, had begun calling for the United Nations and the IMF to institute a new reserve currency to replace the dollar. The foreign market for U.S. treasuries had all but dried up.

  The immediate results could be seen and felt in every city and town in the United States. As she headed toward Evan’s office, Michelle passed gas stations advertising gas at $8.17 a gallon with lines of cars stretching blocks waiting to fill up. The grocery stores appeared almost under siege, with people rushing to buy whatever food was still on the shelves and the lines at the banks and ATM machines, for those that were still operating, were at least two hour waits to get cash. A general sense of panic filled the air all around town.