“You know if you look over that list too much it will only haunt your dreams.”
“I doubt anything will ever replace the nightmares I continually have now. Besides, I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything. I went on a three month dig in the Yucatan once with a very experienced professor and do you know what he forgot?”
“Mosquito repellant?”
“Worse, toilet paper. Sixty people, a two week hike to the nearest outpost of civilization and no toilet paper.”
“What did you do?”
“Me I was fine, spending some time with Painted Buffalo taught me to always have your own supply of toiletries. Everyone else, well, let's just say there was no close intimate contact between any of us.”
“I think I can see why you’re a bit paranoid but that was just one mistake albeit a big one.”
“Every dig I’ve ever been on has missed some major item like that. Mosquito repellant in the heart of Africa, warm sleeping bags in Main in March, cooking utensils in Borneo you get the idea. It all comes down to the crashing together of the best laid plans and Murphy’s law.”
“Well I’ve got you some good news that I’m sure you hadn’t thought about.”
“Really what?”
“I sold my law practice today.”
“You're right, I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Another firm has been trying to get me to join them for some time so I called them up this morning and talked to them, that’s what the meeting was about this afternoon. I’ll stay on for the next two weeks then they take over from there. Part of the deal allows me to join them as a full partner if and when we come back to the states. So that’s one less thing for me to deal with in the meantime.”
“Then lets get some dinner and some sleep I need to be back up about eleven.”
At midnight Wren pulls the Mustang into a darker part of the parking lot barely within sight of the Harley. About ten till one a man in the dark maroon scrubs of an orderly starts across the parking lot. His receding brown hair shows in the yellow light of the parking lot a helmet in his left hand as he heads straight to the bike.
“May I ask what your plan is?”
“I seldom have one. I figure get up beside him, pull the shot and continue on. It’s worked for me before.”
He gets to his bike and starts looking it over from front to back leaving not a single bolt or crevice overlooked. Satisfied he throws his leg over the bike and cranks up the motor. The loud rapping of the engine fills the silence of the near empty lot as he fastens his helmet. Lifting his left foot to the gear shifter he pushes it down into first and lets out the clutch. Soon he’s heading off of Ballas and on to interstate sixty-four. Wren stays back knowing he is heading toward two-seventy. They take the long sweeping ramp up and over the highway and soon are on two-seventy themselves. Wren accelerates to catch up to him and is closing in slowly lessening the gap between them as she does. She fades to the right and eases up alongside, her driver's side window down pistol drawn and ready. He looks over just as the laser sight lines up with his helmet and he accelerates hard. The Harley rockets away from the Mustang as Wren slams the pistol into Norman’s lap. She floors the Mustang and takes off after him climbing fast, eighty, ninety, a hundred, weaving in and out of the thin traffic staying within sight but slowly losing him.
“Wren might I suggest a different approach before someone innocent gets hurt?”
“Yea, I think you're right. This is going to get all of us killed.”
She lets off the gas and lets the car cost back down to eighty before slowly applying the brakes and taking the Telegraph exit to turn around.
“You need your bike for this one don’t you?”
“It would honestly make me feel safer, after all I’m more comfortable on two wheels than on four.”
Even as late as they are out Wren is still up at six and looking through the laptop once again when Norman finds her.
“May I ask why you are looking through that in the bathroom?”
“So as not to disturb you.”
“Well as much as I appreciate that, wouldn't it do you some good to get more sleep?”
“It might but you know I just can’t lately.”
“You know, you might want to check into a system to take with us. Maybe a digital camera and a scanner.”
“On top of a mountain? How?”
“Well I was looking at a couple of sites on solar power yesterday and came across one that also sold small wind turbines. They come in various voltages and with a few simple batteries we could have the use of some electricity. You can get those new LED lights for cars and I figure if you got several back up lights you could light the tent with them. You could have a fan to move the heat from the stove, maybe one of those thermo-electric coolers for food.”
“I get the idea when is it going to be delivered?”
“Friday, and I ordered two by the way. So we will have a spare.”
“You and your gadgets.”
“I never had that much need for them before I met you, then I was hooked.”
“But why do I need a new system?”
“Because that one’s tainted and I wouldn’t try to cross the border with it.”
“Lets get cleaned up then I have a lot to do.”
Wren drops Norman at his office then heads to Kingshighway and Pershing avenue to check on Po Xian. She drives past his house only to realize it is empty. She loops around the block and pulls up across the street from it. She sits there for a few minutes looking over her notes before she heads across the street to look into the matter a little better. She crosses the busy street and starts up to the porch when she is startled by a voice shouting at her.
“Hey! You, looking for Po?”
“Yea, he’s an old friend and I can’t seem to reach him lately.”
“Not surprised he moved out real suddenly about two weeks ago.”
“You know where he went?”
“Not a clue but, I do know he frequents a bar down in Sunset Hills. O’Leary’s I think it’s called anyway he’s there most every night though.”
“I never realized he was such a heavy drinker.”
“Something’s been bugging him for the last couple of months really got him going, whatever it is.”
“Well thanks for the info I’ll have to see if I can catch him there.”
“Well good luck then.”
Wren gets back into her car confident that she knows just what is bothering him. She decides to head out to the motorcycle dealer to see how the repairs to her bike are coming along before she starts looking at a new computer system.
“Wren! How is our favorite biker doing today?”
“Well now that depends on how my bike is doing.”
“You know the way to the shop, I’ve got Bob looking it over since it’s your bike.”
Wren walks through the showroom and through the large double doors marked employee’s only. Past a half dozen bikes waiting their turn for repairs and three sitting on lifts in the middle of repairs until she reaches her own bike being carefully inspected by a man with long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail hanging down to his waist. He’s looking through his half moon glasses at a spot that would normally be covered with a piece of titanium colored plastic that now sits blackened and charred upon his workbench with the rest of the bikes faring.
“Well Bob what’s the prognoses?”
“It’s still drivable, looks bad but the outer plastic took the brunt of it. I’ve patched a few wires and a new set of tires wouldn’t hurt. Otherwise she came out of it with just minor damage really.”
“How long before I could have it back?”
“Need it in a hurry?”
“Well with Norman’s truck lost in the same fire it’s getting kind of rough with just one car.”
“I reckon I could have it back together late this afternoon.”
“Bob, you're the best.”
“Anything for my favorite rider.”
“I’ll see you this evening then.”
Wren went back out to the showroom the way she had come in and tracked down Dave the owner.
“Dave, I need to know if you could help me out?”
“What is it, Wren?”
“I’ve taken a new job over seas and I’m going to have to get rid of my bike.”
“Wren I’m sad to hear it. When do you leave?”
“July twenty-seventh.”
“I’ll tell you what when your ready, bring the bike in and I’ll give you blue book retail for it cash money.”
“Thanks Dave.”
With her errand done she leaves in search of a new computer then back over to pick up Norman for lunch.
“Well we can pick up the bike this evening, and I arranged to sell it back to the dealer at blue book retail before we leave.”
“That’s great news and, how did the computer shopping go?”
“I bought a system with mom’s help. It will be able to run on straight twelve volt or one-ten, it will function as a universal television so it will even work overseas, DVD player, surround sound card, scanner, printer, the biggest and thinnest monitor I could get. I even found a set of nice surround speakers just for you. The way the gear is adding up I’m really glad we get an entire shipping container to pack it all in.”
“I say we should restore one or two buildings at the site to stay in and put the gear in, I think it would be much more stable and secure.”
“Well, I could run that past Doctor Hernandez when we get there but I would prefer not to before they are excavated properly.”
“That’s fair enough although we are going to be camped for two years on top of unexcavated ground that would to me seem to hide just as much history.”
“That is a good point too. How goes your search for your lights?”
“Well I was talking to a guy at an auto parts store earlier and we discussed light output and what we would be using them for and I ordered out what I felt would be an ample quantity. We decided that half a dozen large capacity deep cycle batteries would be a good start for us but he suggested we get them there as it would be safer than shipping them that distance. The hardware store has ordered me enough of that insulation I mentioned to you the other day to help us out some. And the shipping container will be delivered between two and five this afternoon.”
“Two and five? I better be heading back then so I’m there when it gets there.”
Wren starts the drive back to the ruins of her home not wanting to see the charred remains of the house. Pulling into the driveway with a hollow feeling in her heart, she stares at the remains with all of its memories left to haunt her mind. She walks up onto the porch and peers in through the remains of the front windows then walks away. With some effort of will she calls up a developer that had approached her about a month before and arranges to meet him at the remains to discuss the lands future.
When he arrives Wren is poking around in the remains of the garage feeling that its concrete floor is the only one left stable. A visible space where Norman’s truck had sat through the inferno the only spot not covered in the thick ash that is now kicked up with each passing breeze.
“Wren Robbins?”
“It’s Wren James now but yes I’m her.”
“Chad Hartwell with Hartwell construction. I’m sorry to have to meet you under these conditions.”
“It could be worse. I could be meeting you with the house still intact. It actually makes it a bit easier this way really.”
“So one hundred fifty acres correct?”
“That’s right it has road frontage front and rear and is bordered by the Meramec river on the North.”
“Well I’ll give you the same offer that you didn’t want to discuss as before. Three point five million for everything as is. That’s about twenty three thousand an acre.”
“Three point five million?”
“Yes but I really doubt I could go much higher.”
“Oh no I just didn’t realize just what I was sitting on. The money is fine but I have one condition to add to it.”
“Well let's hear it, though I suppose you want a new house somewhere on the grounds.”
“No, actually I have a shipping container being delivered here shortly and I would like to be able to leave it here until it is picked up on July the eleventh.”
“That would be no problem at all.”
“Fine if you would have whatever paperwork is involved with the sale sent to the address on this card. My husband is a lawyer and will take care of all the legal work.”
“It’s been a real pleasure doing business with you Mrs. James. I’ll have the contract sent over tomorrow if your husband finds all acceptable I can have your check ready in two days.”
“That will be fine and thanks for everything.”
Wren is left sitting alone staring at the burned out shell thinking, if Norman could spot her portfolio sitting in the remains of the living room pretty much intact, what else might have survived? She goes back into the garage and starts rummaging again this time moving burnt and charred boards. After a while she manages to salvage all the hand tools without plastic or wooden handles. She piles them in front of the garage then she heads around back to the lower basement door. It stands splintered and dangling from its center hinge where the firemen broke it down in their attempt to save the house. She looks up into the floor joists, most of them seeming to be just fine a darker brown than their near hundred year old oak had ever looked before but still they look solid. She doesn’t know exactly what she is looking for but she pokes around the debris until she finds a box heavily soaked with the deluge of water. Inside she finds her replacement diplomas from college. She takes them up and puts them inside the trunk of her car and goes back into the garage this time making a very surreal trip into the house through the door into the kitchen. This time instead of the scent of fudge there is only the scent of burnt wood and damp ash. For the first time since the fire, she starts to cry. The tears are flowing freely down her face as the heat of anger builds to the boiling point within her. Now she knows she has their undivided attention, and that as long as she continues with her work no one else has to worry about them. She had killed to protect the innocent and would kill again to continue to protect them. Her life’s mission had changed against her will but she would leave her mark even if no one knew who left it. Now she carefully walks through the house poking at the boards with her foot before taking any step. Room by room she roams knowing she won’t find anything but memories, but memories are what she is looking for. In the spare bedroom closet just where it was supposed to be is her leather racing suit now all black from the heat and soot, it smells of fire but is still in good enough condition to offer her protection. In the floor below sit her racing boots like the suit completely blackened by the heat but still serviceable. She takes her suit and boots back out to her car and lays them out over the hood hoping to air them a little bit before she has to put them in the trunk. She pokes around awhile longer but only turns up some soggy books and bits and pieces of barely recognizable objects.
She is pulled from her time killing search with the arrival of the shipping container. To her surprise it arrives on the back of a roll off tow truck. It is no bigger than eight foot by eight foot and about six to seven feet high. The truck pulls up and parks as Wren makes her way out of the burnt shell of the house.
“I’m looking for Wren James.”
“That’s me.”
“Well this is your container then. If you wouldn’t mind I’ll need to see some identification then I can unload it for you.”
Wren gets out her license and her marriage identification card to show him, and soon he turns the truck around and rolls off the container.
“It’s scheduled for pick up on the morning of July the eleventh destination Lima Peru, care of Doctor Jose Hernandez. You will need to provide your own locks. It should be locked and ready for pick up as early as midnight on the day of pick-up you’ll find the lock information in this packet. Any questions?”
“Well I was expecting something a little larger.”
“This is a standard air cargo container Ma’am and it is what I was instructed to deliver.”
“And it will do just fine, I’ll just have to make it do. Thank you.”
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