Waters of Lethe, Book 2

25. Stratagem

I got my head together that night, and, thankfully, it carried over into the morning hours.

The routine was normal: bags packed, guns loaded.

"Extra ammo?" Alex asked me as I double checked our packs on the plane. We started double checking things when whoever packed our bags for Japan forgot to pack Enzo's gun. It wasn't a big problem, due to the fact that it was Enzo, but we were still on guard from then on.

"Check," I told him. "Vests?"

"Checkaroo."

"Looks like we're good to go."

Alex hopped up and knocked a few times on the door to the cockpit, alerting the pilots that we were ready.

We took our usual seats, killed the lights, and tried to sleep.

I ran my hand over the front right pocket of my jeans, making sure the piece of blank white paper was still there, folded nice and neatly and out of sight. I'd found it in one of the kitchen drawers inside of a cookbook, thanking sweet Jesus, because that was the last place I had to look for a random blank sheet of paper.

After Alex was asleep, I pulled it out, along with a pen I'd found. I pulled down the small tray table that was built in to the seat in front of me, placed the paper down flat, then put my pen to it.

What the heck was I supposed to write?

Assuming the Americans would even keep up with me to be able to get this piece of paper, what was I supposed to tell them?

I sighed. I liked to the point messages, so I decided that was what I would go for. I scribbled a quick, clear message on the sheet of paper, along with an address and time, folded it back up, and stuffed it back into my pocket. This was a long shot by far. They found you once, I told myself. If they can't find this...

They'd find this.

*********************

I waited until Alex was far beyond the Albuquerque airport's gates. What I had planned wouldn't work in the airport. There were too many people.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I told Alex.

Since we were on better terms, he quickly stopped at a small grocery store to let me run inside.

It wasn't a large grocery store, but it had what I really needed: surveillance cameras.

I entered the store walked around to the vegetable aisle. I knew the chance of there being no people on this aisle was sky high, but knew the chances of there being a camera here, ready to catch vegetable thieves in the act, were highly unlikely. Fortunately for me, I'd guessed wrong. Apparently vegetable thieves existed, because a surveillance camera was pointed directly down the aisle.

I walked slowly down the aisle, prayed the camera worked. If it didn't, my chance of contacting them was gone. I probably wouldn't get another opportunity to set something up, getting it past Scott like I would if this damn camera worked. If whoever was on the other side of the camera, watching me, waiting for me, was as on their toes as he or she was the first time I deliberately looked at a camera a month ago in Shimla, this was a done deal. Assuming the camera worked.

So many things could go wrong, yet I only needed a few things to go right for them to get my message.

I stopped at a black metal stand that had small plastic baggies that people put the vegetables in before they bought them and took them home, then pulled the folded note from my pocket. I held it against my thigh as I looked around, made sure no one was watching.

When I cleared the area in front of and behind me, I looked directly at the camera for five solid seconds. When those five seconds were up, I held the note in front of my face for a few seconds, letting them see it, then bent down to pretend to tie my shoe. I slid the note under the black metal stand and stood, letting the camera get another good glimpse of me.

Dear God, please let that camera be working.

I walked out, back to Alex, totally forgetting that I actually had to pee.