Chapter 39
Brad and Susan had lingered after dinner at The Cat's, but now, content after a wonderful meal, good conversation and a couple of margarita's, they got back on highway 17 going down the hill into Los Gatos. Even Recon's guard was down as he sat on the back seat, licking his chops contentedly after his own steak dinner.
“What happens now?” Susan asked as they came under the lights of the village.
“Well, all the heavy stuff should be over with.” Brad responded as he took the Los Gatos turn-off. “We'll still need to keep our guard up, but I don't see us as being in the danger we were before. Granted, the bad guys are still out there, but their reasons for wanting us aren't as prevalent as they were.”
“So you think that we're safe?” Susan asked.
“We're relatively safe. The circumstances aren't as extreme as they were before. Spike and his buddies might want us, but Alberto has what he wants, or, at least thinks he does, and what Alberto wants is all that counts. By the time he finds out that he doesn't have it, he'll have a lot bigger problems then revenge against us.”
“I guess that gives me some form of relief, though, it doesn't sound quite as solid as I would like it to.” Susan said.
“We should be good for tonight. We'll go to your house and clean it up. I don't see a reason for anybody going there tonight, and even if they do, we're armed and have Recon, who is a very good and lethal alarm system.” Susan looked in the back seat at Recon who lazily slapped his tail against the leather at the sound of his name.
“He doesn't look very lethal at the moment.” Susan commented as she reached back and scratched his ear.
“His nature is a peaceful one.” Brad said. “But he knows his job.”
Brad drove passed Susan's house, both of them studying the house for activity, looking in parked cars and in the shadows of the sidewalk as they came to the top of the hill and turned around.
“Looks very calm, doesn't it?” Brad said as he started back down the hill.
“Yes.” Susan replied. “I don't see a soul anywhere.”
“I didn't think we would. This is probably the safest place in town for us right now. Nobody would ever think we would come here tonight after what we just went through.” Brad said as he pulled to the curb in front of Susan's. They stared silently at the darkened house for a moment. Nothing moved. All was silent. No curtains stirred from curious psychos lurking inside waiting for them.
“Well - - “ Susan said.
“Yes. I know what you mean. It looks all right, but paranoia kind of clings to the moment doesn't it?”
“For good reason.” Susan said as she opened the door. “But we can't just sit here all night wondering if it's okay to go in.”
There was no reason for stealth as they walked up to the house. Just pulling the Land Rover up to the curb, turning off the headlights and engine, opening and loudly closing the doors announced their arrival and shattered the peace of the still, silent night that filled the neighborhood.
“We'll send Recon in first just to play it safe.” Brad suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Susan said.
Street lights failed to penetrate the large oak trees that lined the curb of the street, leaving sidewalks and curbside lawn strips in a dappling mosaic of dim artificial light and total darkness. As they walked up the walkway to Susan's front porch they could see that the front door was cracked open in the yellow lamp lights of the street.
“Looks like Spikes goons were here and left without closing the door.” Brad commented as he drew his gun.
“Yes. Very sloppy and untidy of them. I wonder what their mothers would think.” Susan said, also drawing her gun.
Stopping at the entrance, Brad opened the door partially with his foot. They stood back and waited, looking into the blackness of the interior from the sides of the door.
“Recon.” Brad said. “Check.” Recon immediately entered the house, disappearing into the darkness. Listening carefully, Brad heard nothing but a subtle thump, almost discernible in the quiet night. Recon did not make a sound or return to the door. Brad chambered a round. “Stay here.” he said.
“I don't think so.” Susan said following him quickly into the pitch black living room. Susan heard a thump as she went to one side and Brad to the other upon entering the house.
“What was that sound, Brad?” she asked the darkness. “Are you alright?” At that moment she felt a sharp pain, like a needle entering her body, and then a loss of motor control and the closing down of her mind as she fell to the floor.
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Joseph Eichmann was not only a methodical man, and also a very patient one. After receiving an update from his handlers from The Committee, Eichmann knew it was time to make his move. He had to be in the right place at the right time. He was almost completely certain where the real memory stick was. He had done his process of elimination and narrowed it down to only one spot left.
After receiving the update, Joseph went to Susan's and parked a block away, almost to the top of the hill. He watched two men come in an SUV and enter Susan's house as if they owned it. They might look like agents to the untrained eye, but Joseph knew what they were within moments after seeing them. They were the goons of Alberto De La Cruz.
The two men exited the house within moments, arguing like a couple of teenage siblings, one of them carrying a paper bag. Not moving from his spot, Joseph quietly watched the two men get in their vehicle and drive away. After they left he did not move, but sighed reluctantly, settled back and waited an hour before another vehicle pulled to the curb. This vehicle was also an SUV, from which four men quickly exited with weapons drawn. They entered the house with the professional caution of police. Joseph had no doubt that these were federal agents, and he still did not move from his location. After about ten minutes the agents came out and stood on the front lawn while one of them reported in on a cell phone. They also returned to their vehicle and drove away, empty handed. Shortly after they left, Joseph got out of his car. Carrying a leather bag, he took his time walking down the dark street, as if he were just an old man out for an evening stroll. When he came to Susan's walkway he turned into it and casually walked up to the door. He thought he would have to pick the lock, which he was expert at doing and the door would have proven only a minor problem, but the door was ajar. A sigh of general irritation with the human race at large escaped him as he entered the house. 'People are such inconsiderate pigs these days', he thought. 'They don't even have the courtesy to close the door all the way after breaking in to someones house'.
Joseph also left the door slightly ajar as he closed it. He did not venture any farther into the house or turn the lights on, but instead, reached into the bag that he carried and pulled out night vision goggles and put them on. The living room lit up in shades of green. After surveying the room, Joseph moved a small table and chair so that they directly faced the front door and sat ten feet back from its entrance, making it impossible to see him if someone were to open the door and look inside.
Sitting down on the chair, Joseph opened his leather bag again and removed the weapons that he would need for the evenings work. He checked each item and then placed it in neat order on the table, knowing where each one was at and making sure it was readily available for the quick action that he was sure he would have to take when the front door opened. When everything was exactly as he wanted it, he turned off his night vision goggles, sat back and folded his hands in his lap, waiting with the patience of a spider who had just spun a web.
Trying to decipher what goes through a spider's mind as it clings unmoving for hours and sometimes days at the center of its web would be as difficult as understanding the thought processes of an entity living on another planet in another galaxy. Joseph Eichmann sat that still. His eyes half closed, almost as if in a meditative state, he remained attentively aware of every subtle sound. What went through his mind as he sat spider still was not difficult to figure out, and was, in fact, very easy for any human to understand.
In the more than three decades that Joseph had worked as an international spy for the United States, he had many opportunities to stash away small fortunes that passed through his hands. But, Joseph had been an idealist. A man who worked for the greater good, and truly believed in the high moral value that his country displayed to the rest of the world. He struggled against the changing personality of America that he saw taking place over the last half of his career. 'Politics as usual' went from being a joke to a serious problem as both parties drifted so far to the right and left they were like two separate continents being pulled apart by tectonic plates. Corruption and pay-off were lightly veiled and laws passed to make them acceptable and legal.
This wasn't what Joseph had spent over thirty years of his life trying to save. This was not freedom. This was not a caring government who worked for the benefit of all. But, it was like family. They may irritate you and you wouldn't have anything to do with them if you weren't related, but you are. It was still family. My country is my family. It's a thought that ran through his head in many forms over the years. When he was involved in operations that repelled him as a human being, he had to bring to mind that this was for family – America.
Now, an old man with a cane to support a stiff leg that still carried a bullet from a long ago operation, Joseph felt somewhat disgruntled. For all that he had done, he was unceremoniously ushered to the door and sent away with a small pension and Social Security and told he was lucky to get those. He had passed up millions of dollars only to end up living on a budget. The Committee was paying him handsomely for his part, but not what his thirty years of dedication was worth.
These are the things that Joseph thought about as he sat in the darkness of Susan's living room, weapons arrayed in front of him on a table – waiting.
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