CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Follow your bliss. Find where it is, and don’t be afraid to follow it.” Joseph Campbell “What if you get three steps out the door and you ‘accidentally’ fall and break your neck?” Bill Spence shouted. For some reason he believed increased volume added weight to a line of reasoning. “He has a point.” Joey couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing with the Pillsbury Doughboy. “Your house burns down and there’s a senator in the hospital.” “Life is full of risks.” She continued rummaging through Joey’s closet. She found exactly what she was looking for. A hideous day glow blue jogging suit. “You need this?” “Not unless disco makes a comeback.” “I have to leave everything of mine here.” she said as she pulled off the wedding ring she still wore, for no particular reason other than habit, and a locket her mother had given her that had been in the family for over 200 years. “Why?” demanded Bill. “Because something may be bugged or have a tracking device on it.” “What are you talking about?” Bill asked. “Our house was bugged, and Michael Walker found several tracking devices on my car.” As the words left her mouth she wished she could grab them back and swallow them. “When was Walker in your car?” roared Bill Spence. 105 The Fourth Awakening “You did bust him out!” Joey slapped Penelope on the shoulder. “And you didn’t tell me!” Bill Spence moved directly in front of his ex-wife and through gritted teeth said, “Penelope, what was this Walker character doing in your car?” “Bill,” Penelope answered. “Your macho man routine didn’t work when we were married. What makes you think it’s going to impress me now?” “I’m just concerned for you…” “That is such BS. You’re concerned I might do something to embarrass you. Too late. Aft er Walker broke out of the brig, I gave him a ride to West Ashley Park. When he left the park he was wearing some of your old clothes. What do you think the stuffed shirts on the opera committee will think of that?” Bill Spence fumed but said nothing. “Should I call Ricky?” Joey asked. Penelope glared at Bill for a moment until she realized what Joey had just said. Her shoulders sagged. “Ricky? Ricky!” Penelope slapped her forehead. “Josephine Antoinette Middleton, you didn’t do it again. I don’t believe it.” “It was entirely your fault.” “How in the world could it possibly have been my fault?” “If you hadn’t been breaking people out of prison he wouldn’t have been over yesterday.” “Will you ever learn?” “What are you two talking about?” Bill Spence asked. “Shut up, Bill,” both women said, in unison. “I don’t have time for all of this now. Damn. I really wish I had my laptop.” Penelope paced in tight circles as she plotted her strategy. “Joey, I’m going to need to borrow your car.” “No way. I can’t lend my Beamer to a potential fl ight risk.” “I’m serious. I need your car.” “No way.” “Why not?” “Three reasons. One, you don’t know how to drive a stick.” “I know how to drive a stick shift …” “Tell that to Froggy LeGrange.” “I was sixteen!” “Yes but as I recall the transmission in his Camaro ended up in the middle of Calhoun Street.” Penelope didn’t have an answer so Joey 106 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin continued. “Two, after driving your little soybean-mobile for the last couple of years you couldn’t keep a real car on the road. And three,” Joey’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “If you think I’m going to miss this, you are out of your mind.” . PPenelope Spence checked the contents of the backpack for the third time. The biggest problem with her plan was she still didn’t know who the bad guys were. And there was always the possibility there were no good guys in this little drama. She didn’t trust Assistant Director Robert Smith even a little; she had dealt with his agenda-driven type before. She only had Walker’s word that the 30 missing people were alive and well, but no proof to support his claim. And, considering electronic devices were found on both her car and in her house, she had no idea if there was another player or even multiple players she still hadn’t met. All she knew for sure was that Horn had looked awful when she spoke to him, and it was possible that his stroke was from natural causes. Still, either Smith or Walker had the resources to cause illness to Horn and to burn down her house if either felt it was necessary. Plus Horn had made it clear that there were others waiting in the shadows, not to mention one billion people, who somehow had an interest in what was going on. She hadn’t felt this alive in years. Penelope plopped into the front seat of Joey’s Beamer. She was wearing the ugly blue sweat suit from the back of Joey’s closet and had the backpack on her lap. “I feel like Butch and Sundance,” Joey said with a laugh. “I’m thinking more Lucy and Ethel,” Penelope answered as she tried to control her breathing. “Will you settle for Stephanie Plum and Lula?” The two old friends exchanged smiles and nodded their agreement. “Buckle up, baby!” Joey exclaimed as she popped a Guns and Roses CD into the stereo and turned up the volume. Axl Rose began screaming as she turned over the ignition and punched the garage door opener on her visor. The door wasn’t even fully up when she slapped the car into reverse, dropped the clutch and floored it. The tires squealed as she laid a track of rubber down the driveway. She hit the curb at about the same moment Axl hit the chorus. 107 The Fourth Awakening When Joey slammed on the brakes, the car slid briefly on some loose gravel; fortunately there were no cars parked on the street. Before the sports car came to a complete stop she jammed the transmission into fi rst gear and floored the gas. A trail of burnt rubber and blue smoke formed behind the Beamer as it screamed down the nearly deserted street. Th e tachometer jumped to the right, but she didn’t bother with second gear until the red flash of German machinery was going over 30 mph. She was doing 60 long before she reached the guard station of her walled community. Tapping the brakes just enough to keep the car on the road, she dropped the gear from fourth to second, as she flew through the stop sign and made a right turn at over 40 mph. Before the drivers of the two vehicles that were assigned to tail Penelope Spence could put down their coffee and donut, Joey was a half mile ahead of them. Being a Sunday morning, traffic was sparse as she jumped the light at Sam Rittenberg Boulevard. A third of the town was already on the water or a golf course, a third was in church, and a third was still in bed recovering from the previous night’s activities. Joey and Penelope pretty much had the road to themselves. As the streaking red car approached the bridge over the Ashley River, Joey’s speedometer was passing 100 mph. Joey upped the volume to the max as the next Guns and Roses song kicked in. Axl began screaming “Welcome to the Jungle.” At the top of his lungs. Joey cut off a lumbering SUV in the middle lane, hit the brakes on the Beamer about a hundred yards from the on ramp to I-26 South, and dropped the gear from fi fth to third. The tach leaped into the red again as she popped the clutch and let the engine compression slow the car down; the motor screamed in protest. They were still going 60 mph, well above the recommend 35, when she hit the on-ramp. Thank God for German engineering. Not only did the BMW stay on the road, its right front wheel hugged the inside white stripe without drift ing. Once on I-26, she opened it up again. The speedometer topped out at 120 before she began her descent to the Morrison Street exit. She fl ew down the off ramp and took the stop sign and left turn at 35 mph. She ran the light at East Bay Street and headed toward town before slowing down to a more reasonable speed. Joey ran her hand through her windblown hair and said, “I’ve always enjoyed a Sunday drive. How about you?” For the first time since leaving her driveway she glanced over at her friend. Penelope was paler than her ex108 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin husband, and her fingernails were latched to the upholstery of the seat like a cat that didn’t want to be picked up. “Was that quick enough for you?” “Fine, thanks.” Penelope felt her blood pressure starting to return to normal, but nevertheless had a diffi cult time disengaging her grip on the seat. Her knuckles appeared to have gone into rigor mortis and she no longer had any control over them. “By the way, the Hendricks Racing Team called and said they’re looking for a driver next week at Talladega.” “Too many left turns for my taste.” By the time they passed Calhoun Street, most of Penelope’s normal functions had returned. As they approached the corner of East Bay and Market, she thought the adrenaline from Joey’s driving would have started to wear off . The exact opposite was happening. Walker, if he still planned to meet her, had to be close by. Somehow, on some level, she could feel his presence. They missed the light. Stuck in the middle of one of Charleston’s largest tourist attractions, there were too many people and cars for Joey to try anything aggressive, so they waited for the green light. Penelope looked around for any signs of Walker or flashing police lights, but found neither. She was hardly surprised that she couldn’t see Walker; she doubted he would stand out. There was still a half hour before they were scheduled to meet. Joey drove just under the speed limit down East Bay Street, past Broad and pulled into an open spot in front of the Battery at the extreme tip of the Charleston peninsula. This was the exact spot where, on April 12, 1861, the American Civil War began. Beginning at 4:30 a.m. and for the next 34 straight hours the Confederate batteries pounded Fort Sumter until it surrendered. It is a matter of some dispute whether it was one of Penelope’s ancestors or one of Joey’s who was given the honor of lighting the fuse on the first cannon. Most history books give the credit to Ezekiel Drayton, a fact Mark discovered while they were in college and had never let Penelope forget. Joey watched her friend grab her borrowed items and reach for the door handle. Penelope had a nagging feeling that it might be a long time before they shared another bottle of wine and a laugh. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hugged her lifelong friend. “You okay?” Joey asked, surprised by the flash of emotion from her friend. “I’ll see you later this aft ernoon, right?” Penelope wiped a tear off of her cheek. “Right,” she lied. Penelope 109 The Fourth Awakening Drayton Spence somehow knew that the moment she stepped out of the car her life would change forever. It still wasn’t too late to turn back and rebuild her life in Charleston. Racked for a moment with emotion and doubt, she drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She was doing the right thing. They hugged again and Penelope jumped out of the car and trotted toward one of the benches in Battery Park. . MMrs. Gloria Von Ward had been considering getting up and getting dressed when her cell phone went off. Having just spent the first night of her honeymoon at a bed and breakfast overlooking Charleston Harbor, she couldn’t imagine who would be calling her. When the female voice on the phone told her to hold for the Department of Homeland Security’s Director of Emerging Technologies, she sat straight up in bed, slapping her husband of 18 hours hands away. “Agent Von Ward? “Yes, sir.” “This is Director Noah Shepherd. I need you to respond immediately to an eminent national security threat.” “Yes, sir.” . PPenelope was nearly alone in White Point Garden, a tree-fi lled park at the tip of the peninsula where the Confederate Battery had once stood. She surveyed the area. There was an old man walking his dog with one hand holding a leash and the other gripping a plastic doggy waste bag. There was a young couple in the gazebo that hadn’t even noticed her since they couldn’t take their eyes off each other. There was a fit young woman stretching her legs, clearly preparing for her morning run. It looked pretty safe to her. The runner kept her left side away from Penelope’s line of sight. She didn’t want her to see the Bluetooth earpiece. This was a career moment for Gloria Von Ward, the honeymoon be damned. To have someone at the Director’s level at Homeland Security call her, a Field Agent only a year out of the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, was unheard of. While the woman in the blue jogging suit may have lost her tail for the moment, they’d all start arriving within the next few minutes. If Von 110 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin Ward could keep her in sight for five minutes she would be on a fast track that only having a marker from the Director’s level could bring. Penelope Spence began jogging up Church Street. Before the Civil War, Charleston had been one of the richest cities in the country. Th e area known as “South of Broad”, which encompasses the tract between Broad Street and the Battery, has some of the finest examples of early American architecture in existence. Sprawling restored mansions, many with harbor views, help make Charleston one of the top vacation destinations in the country. On a beautiful Sunday morning such as this, tourists and horse-drawn carriages crowd the narrow streets. It took Penelope less than a block before she realized that the woman from the park might be following her. Looking for confi rmation, she took a left on Atlantic and a right on Meeting Street. The other runner was still there, matching her stride for stride. She looked at least 20 years younger and in much better shape; the chances of outrunning her were slim. She would have to outthink her. Penelope took a right on Water Street and slowly headed back towards the Cooper River. At the corner, she jogged in place until a tourist’s horse-drawn carriage moved out of her way, then she bolted full speed up Church, taking a quick right into Stoll’s Alley. She knew the woman would not want to lose sight of her and would try to close the gap between them quickly. The third house down, like so many in the Historic District, was in the process of being renovated and a construction dumpster was parked in the driveway. It was exactly what she had been hoping for. Reaching in, Penelope found what she needed. Gloria Von Ward, seeing the target had made her, kicked it from a jog to a flat-out run. If she had spotted the tail, that would be too bad, but Agent Von Ward was not going to lose sight of her until backup arrived. She spoke into the Bluetooth. “She’s turned right into,” she squinted to read the sign as she turned the corner. What a day to not have time to put in her contact lens or be able to locate her glasses. Before she could give her location, an oversized burlap sack was over her head and she was being pulled between the buildings. As she struggled, a leather case with her Homeland Security badge tumbled to the ground. Losing her balance on a cobblestone Von Ward fell hard, and didn’t stir. That was all the advantage Penelope needed. Penelope pulled off the hideous blue jogging suit, and instead of 111 The Fourth Awakening tossing it in the dumpster where it would be a clue to her wardrobe change, she stuffed it in the backpack. Underneath she was wearing a bright yellow sun dress. Reaching into the backpack she pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses and one of Joey’s real hair blond wigs that had cost a small fortune. She put on the sunglasses and adjusted the wig until it felt comfortable. Next, she pulled off her running shoes. They were not nearly as noticeable as the jogging suit and she didn’t need the additional bulk in the backpack. She tossed the running shoes down the alley before retrieving a pair of sandals from the backpack and slipping them on. She pulled one last item from the backpack, a Charleston Museum shopping bag, and crammed the backpack inside the heavy paper bag. Her transformation was complete and had been accomplished in less than 30 seconds. Glancing back she saw the woman who had been chasing her just starting to stir. The new Penelope Drayton Spence stepped out onto East Bay Street and joined a group of tourists who were strolling toward the market. They all watched as a Chevy Suburban with darkened windows and flashing lights in its grill squealed its tires and turned into Stoll Alley, clearly following Gloria Van Ward’s tracking device. . TThe City Market has been a fixture of Charleston since the time of the American Revolution and in constant use since 1788. As Charleston transformed from a sleepy declining city to one of America’s favorite tourist destinations, the market gradually evolved. The four blocks of covered but open-air market had moved from selling fresh fruits and produce in the nineteenth century to trinkets and souvenirs today. On this weekend at the height of tourist season City Market was packed. Outside a coff ee shop catering to the tourist trade were three stacks of newspapers; The Post and Courier, Sunday New York Times and the Sunday Washington Post. Each stack had a brick on top to keep the wind from blowing the newspapers away. There it was. Taking off her sunglasses, she leaned over and read the headlines. She wanted to shout and point to her name on the front page. She wanted to kiss total strangers. She wanted to buy a latte for everyone in sight. Instead she quickly shoved the sunglasses back on her nose and started looking for Michael Walker. Penelope heard the bells chiming at Saint Philips Church, which meant it had to be around noon. Her watch had 112 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin been a casualty of the fire. She crossed the street and made her way inside the market. She looked around for Walker but he was a no-show. The only man even close to his general size was a potbellied biker with a dirty blond ponytail, wearing a t-shirt that read, “Lock Up Your Daughters.” She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. As the seconds began to tick away, she suddenly started to panic. “Oh, God,” she thought to herself, realizing for the first time what she had done. She had assaulted a Federal officer. “Oh, God,” She whispered softly as she bumped into the biker. “Sorry,” she muttered as she tried to move away, but the crowd and narrow aisles restricted her mobility. “I see we both prefer blonds,” the biker said in a familiar voice. As soon as the biker pushed his sunglasses to the end of his nose revealing his eyes, she knew it was Walker. “Been eating well on my $3,000, I see.” He patted the pillow under his shirt. “I finally found a store with peanut M&Ms.” He motioned that they should start moving. With a bit of eff ort, they managed to escape the crowd and head east a short block on Market Street until it dead-ended into Concord Street and the Cooper River. Taking a left toward the South Carolina Aquarium, they walked around the corner to the warehouse district that few tourists ever discover, even though it is only a few steps from the market. They stopped in front of a rusty blue and white Ford Bronco with 10 years of hard use and an interesting assortment of minor body damage including what appeared to be a bullet hole in the rear quarter panel. Walker took off his sunglasses so he could make better eye contact. “Anyone follow you?” “Yes,” Penelope said. “I figured they would have tracking devices on me and Joey…” “Joey?” “My friend Joey Rickman. She was my wheel man this morning.” Walker nodded that he understood and that she should continue. “Everything I have on is borrowed. I couldn’t do anything about Joey’s car, but I had her drop me off about a mile from here and I walked. I’m pretty sure I lost the tail.” Penelope recounted the entire morning, starting with Joey’s driving 113 The Fourth Awakening and ending with her “sacking” a Federal Agent, followed by her wardrobe change. Walker listened intently without interrupting. When she finished, he smiled. “Very nice. What made you think of that?” “I have a weakness for trashy mystery novels, and one of my favorite characters is Kinsey Millhone. I asked myself, what would Kinsey do?” “Sue Grafton would be proud.” “You heard about Senator Horn?” “Yes,” Walker said with a sigh. “It’s unfortunate. Nice articles in the Post this morning.” “Thanks. It will probably be overshadowed by Senator Horn.” Walker nodded. “My house burned down last night.” “I know.” “Was that you that warned me?” Walker smiled. “What do you think?” “I have no idea.” “As soon as you do, let me know.” “It’s going to be like that, huh?” Walker smiled and shrugged. “Okay. It’s decision time.” “Meaning?” “Meaning, you have two choices.” “Which are?” “You can turn yourself in, and tell Robert Smith everything you know…” “Including the prison break?” “Everything. Trust me. He will understand exactly what you’re telling him, he’s seen it all before.” “I don’t trust him. They found bugs in my house when they were searching it.” “Excellent.” “Excellent?! What is excellent about that?” “How many did they fi nd?” “Close to a dozen.” “Interesting.” Penelope watched as Walker sifted through the new information. “That probably wasn’t Robert, but it could have been any of several dozen groups or agencies.” “What?” “You hit everyone’s radar screen the moment you asked to see me at 114 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin the brig. One likely candidate is Robert’s boss, Noah Shepherd. I’d bet that at least some of those bugs had the earmarks of a Marcus Wolfe black bag job.” “Who?” “The Department of Emerging Technology is huge and they occasionally push the envelope on what’s legal. Wolfe is the director’s muscle. Given the number of bugs that were discovered and how poorly they were hidden, they were intended to be found. No doubt others were there that you’d probably never be able to locate. Someone is trying to scare you.” “They’re doing a pretty good job.” “They are very talented people.” “So is this bad for the Hermes Project?” Penelope asked. “Just the opposite. For this to work we need to have the Director personally involved.” “Why?” “It will be clear, soon enough.” “So you’re not going to tell me?” “You don’t need to know, and if you did it could be uncomfortable for you if you turn yourself in.” “Why.” “Because Wolfe would get it out of you, one way or another.” Penelope didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Do I need protection?’ “Maybe. Wolfe is not known for his soft touch.” “Am I in physical danger?” “There are all kinds of danger; you gave them some leverage when you put that bag over the agent’s head.” Penelope chewed it over for a second then shook her head. “She didn’t actually see me do anything. My lawyer would have a fi eld day with any charges.” “That’s the spirit. If you decide to turn yourself in, only talk to Robert Smith, and turn yourself in with your attorney and with the press covering it if possible.” Penelope smiled. “I think my attorney can arrange that.” “Robert will make it much easier.” “Still don’t trust him.” Walker sighed. “I worked with the man for nearly a year. I’ve had dinner at his house and know his wife and kids.” 115 The Fourth Awakening “What do you mean you worked with him?” “He was the Homeland Security liaison for the Hermes Project.” “What?” “He’s actually on our side. He was our strongest advocate for keeping the program alive. He went with me to the final hearing with Horn’s committee and was pretty persuasive.” “Yet he has thrown you in jail three times this week.” “He was just following orders. He would never hurt me or anyone else. It’s not in his nature.” “If you say so. You said I had two choices. What’s behind door number two?” “You come with me.” “What?’ “You say that a lot, don’t you?” “I’m a reporter. How about option three?” “Which is?’ “You stay here and I interview you, then I’m home for dinner.” Walker lowered his eyes and as Penelope realized she didn’t have a home to return to, a heavy, awkward silence settled over them. “You don’t want to do that,” Walker said soft ly. Penelope forced her house from her mind; nothing could be done about that now. “Why not?” “Because then you won’t get to meet Dr. Altman and see the Hermes Project fi rsthand.” That stopped Penelope dead in her tracks. “You certainly know how to say all the right things to a lady. That’s very tempting.” Walker studied her closely; judgment time had arrived. In the next few moments he would know if he had risked his life, and possibly the entire future of mankind, on a fool’s errand. “Let me ask you something.” “Go ahead.” “What do you want more than anything?” “Grandkids,” she answered without thinking. Walker waited until she was ready to be serious. His blue gray eyes bored into her. She knew exactly what she wanted but didn’t want to say it out loud since it seemed so petty and selfish. She had so much to be grateful for and it would be easy for anyone, especially her children, to take it the wrong way. Walker continued to wait. 116 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “It sounds so shallow,” she said meekly, as tears filled her eyes. “No, it doesn’t.” “You already know what I’m going to say?” “Yes. That’s why I sought you out” “Then why do I have to say it?” “I have to hear you say it.” “Why?” “Because you have to hear yourself say it. Until you declare this to the universe, nothing will happen.” She focused on her shoes as tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I want to be 23 again, and have every newspaper in the world on their knees begging me to come work for them. I want to go back and do it differently.” She broke down and began sobbing on Walker’s shoulder. “I love my children, I really do. That sounded so awful.” He patted her softly on the back and whispered in her ear. “No, it didn’t.” She was crying so hard she was shaking. The events of her life and the past two days had finally caught up with her. Here she was, on a public street, wrapped in the arms of a man she barely knew, crying like a baby. Her mother would have been horrifi ed. Walker waited until the bulk of the storm passed before whispering in her ear. “What if I told you, you could have exactly what you want if you come with me?” Penelope pulled away and looked in his eyes without releasing her grip. Every bit of logic, all of her intellect, everything she had ever learned told her this man was crazy. But there, trapped in his eyes and feeling the warmth of his body pressing against her, she believed him. “The 23 again part I can’t do anything about,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “That boat has already sailed.” Penelope started laughing just as hard as she had been crying moments earlier. She wiped a tear from her cheek, straightened her shoulders and said, “When do we leave?” Walker motioned toward the battered Bronco. “Your chariot awaits.” “You got to be kidding? This is what you spent my $3,000 on?” “I also got a new T-shirt.” “We’re going to have to talk about that. I have two daughters.” Walker shrugged as he opened the passenger side door and Penelope Spence climbed in. 117 PART TWO The Fourth Awakening “If you realized how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought.” Peace Pilgrim