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Authors: Tim Tigner

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BOOK: Coercion
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Soviet Economy: A Shattered Dream

 

“The impact of the economic collapse on consumers has been a combination of insult and injury.  For the big
cities, which is where planners themselves live, the shortages have meant longer lines and endless grousing.  For the provinces, which get lower priority, they have meant rationing cards for meat, milk, butter and other staples.  For the poor, the pensioners and for those who live in the neglected rural poverty pockets that begin at the outskirts of any city and stretch for countless bleak miles across the country, the last few years have added new misery to an already pathetic situation.”
 
Bill Keller, The New York Times, Page A1
[iv]

 

Chapter 14
San Francisco, California

 

Alex
ducked his head as the minivan’s locks responded to Elaine’s remote control.  A moment later she opened the door with a sob and slid into her seat.  As she buckled up, Alex heard the gasp that signaled the start of their adventure. 
Keep silent.  Drive to Wildwood.  Get out at your usual spot
: she had spotted his note.

Crouched behind the third row of seats, Alex could almost hear the wheels spinning in her mind: fight, flee, or capitulate?  It was the first of many life-changing decisions she would have to make tonight.  Elaine started the engine.

His investigation had veered onto this unexpected tack when he spotted her tears.  They transformed his thinking like a magic elixir.  They were the missing ingredient, the piece that completed a twisted puzzle.  The picture painted by that streaked mascara was so repulsive that he trembled with rage.  (At least he hoped it was rage.)  If his interpretation of the clues was correct, Elaine was a victim herself, a victim of diabolic coercion.

Running with that premise—both literally and figuratively—Alex had dashed for her car to leave the note and hide in the back.  He was not hiding from her back there with the Fix-a-Flat and grocery net, but rather from anyone who might be watching, watching or listening.  Coercers tended to keep tabs on coercees.  If they were sophisticated, that usually meant eavesdropping
—in the home, office, and car.

As the minivan left the United Electronics complex, Louis Armstrong’s
What a Wonderful World
began playing on the radio.  Alex feared Elaine might lose it then and there—punch the gas and head for a tree—but she took the sensible, feminine approach, and just switched the radio off. 
Oh to be testosterone free

As she drove through the darkness toward the unknown, Alex
imagined the torrent of horrible speculation that must be cascading through her mind—shovels and shallow graves, ropes and rape scenes—and felt ashamed of his own fear.  He also felt the urge to console her, but knew he had to harden his heart instead:  He was about to beckon her toward the dark forest with the barrel of his gun.

Wildwood Park had closed hours earlier at dusk, but Alex knew that Elaine often arrived before the dawn opening, parking on an adjoining street
that yielded access the running trails.  Eight minutes after leaving the parking garage, she pulled into her usual spot and turned off the engine.  Alex timed the opening and closing of his door to coincide with Elaine’s for the benefit of the eavesdropping audience.  Then, pistol raised, he stood face to face for the first time with the woman who betrayed his brother.

Her
pretty face was a puffy red mess and her cheeks stained by mascara-laced tears, but Elaine’s swollen eyes were thoughtful and alert.  This could still go both ways, he thought.  Her lower lip quivered as Alex motioned silently toward the trail, but she did not faint or even hesitate. 
What was this poor woman used to that she wasn’t convulsing in unbridled hysteria right now?

After
a thirty-yard executioner’s march, Alex said “that’s far enough.”  He tried to project a tone that sounded serious without being ominous.

She stopped.

“Turn around.”

Elaine did as she was asked.  Alex centered his flashlight on her neck so she could look
toward him without being blinded.  He studied her face.  He saw fear, resolve, and … relief?  All were good signs, but he had one more test before dismissing the ice-cold operative scenario outright. 
Was this where Frank had stumbled?
  With a quick flip of his wrist, he centered the beam on his own face, closing his eyes as he did so to avoid night blindness, and then returned the beam to her neck.  “Do you know who I am?”

She shook her head.  Alex looked her in the eyes for a moment longer, searching for deception.  None registered.  “My name is Alex Ferris.”

Her face brightened a shade at what he interpreted as a pleasant surprise.  She saw the resemblance—for the first time.

“Frank was on
to you before he was killed.”

“On
to me?”

“Yes, he knew you were sabotaging the project.” 

A look of shame crossed her face but she neither denied it nor evinced surprise that Frank had not died by his own hand.

“Did you kill him?”

“Heavens no.  I don’t know anything about that.”

Alex believed her.  It was in
the timbre of her voice and the creases around her eyes.  “But you’re not surprised?”

Elaine looked to the ground and shook her head.

“He didn’t say anything to you, act differently, the day he died?”

“No.”

He must have done something to trigger the…reprisal…but Alex decided to let that pass for now.  “Why are you sabotaging the UE-2000?”

She tensed again.

Alex read the conflict on her face.  He decided to show some faith in the hope that Elaine would reciprocate.  He lowered the gun.  “Please, tell me.”

Alex watched her stand
there silently as a battle raged within, nervously tugging her sleeve while the tears rolled.  He gave her another nudge.  “We’re here in the woods so we can’t be seen, can’t be heard.  It is going to come out Elaine.  I have tonight’s switcheroo on tape.  The question you have to ask yourself is this:  Do you want to be alone when it does?”

“Oh, God, I can’t
tell you.  They’ll kill my daughter.  They’ll kill her, just like that.”  She tried to snap her fingers but there was no pop.  “Please, please … help me.”  Her last words were a whispered sob.  If she was playing him, she was the best he had ever seen.

Alex needed more information.
  “Are you afraid someone is watching you now?” 

“I, I don’t know.  I never know.  They seem to know everything.  At first I thought you were one of them.”

Alex was sold.

He pocketed the Glock, held out his hand for hers, and guided Elaine to an adjacent picnic area
where they could sit and talk more comfortably.  Alex figured the walk would give Elaine a chance to get her thoughts together, to make up her mind that this would be the day that she would change her life.  Or not.

They sat facing each other across a picnic table. 
The moon shone enough light on the clearing for each to see the other’s face, so he turned the flashlight off.

“First of all, do me the favor of keeping your hands above the table.”

She nodded, looking more pitiful than scared. 

“Now, I need you to give me the chance to help you, Elaine.  I need you to tell me who is doing this to you, to Kimberly.”

Elaine blanched at the mention of her daughter’s name.  “I don’t know.  They do everything through phone calls and faxes.  The voice is always the same, but I’m sure it’s disguised.”

He
had
made the right decision by not taking the sabotage tape straight to the police.  His instincts
had not
failed.  With a tone that was obviously more relaxed, he asked, “Why don’t you take your time and tell me everything from the beginning.”

Elaine nodded slowly and then took a couple introspective
breaths to compose herself.  Alex waited patiently, actively listening to the woods around for sounds of disturbance.  He looked down and caught himself nervously pulling at the hair on the back of his fingers and stopped; he had to appear strong and confident and that nervous habit was telegraphing his bluff. 
Too late
.

“Frank did that too,” she said, nodding toward his hands.

Alex looked up and saw that a glimmer of hope had crept into her swollen eyes.

“It started
a year and a half ago, July 5, 1989 to be exact.  I got a call early in the morning.  The voice told me that MiMi, my mother, was not doing well, that I should go to her room.  MiMi, you see, had been living with us ever since grandpa died.  I went to see her but she said she felt fine.  Then the voice ordered me to look at her bottom.  I almost hung up at that point, thinking it was just a very sick prank caller.  But there was something about his voice—I didn’t dare defy.

“I found what looked like a nasty bug bite.  Then the voice said Kimberly wasn’t doing well either.  I checked her and saw that she had the same bite as MiMi.  ‘What is it?’  I screamed into the telephone.  The answer nearly gave me a heart attack.  ‘Poison,’ he replied, ‘a very deadly poison.  But don’t
worry, it’s also a very special poison.  It only activates if I tell it to.’

“I stood there for a minute, certain that I was dreaming because something like this could not happen in real life.  But of course it was happening.  ‘Oh please, no, don’t do it, I begged.’  Then he said, ‘I won’t.  But here’s what you’re going to do for me
…’

“There was nothing I wouldn’t have done.  You understand, don’t you
Alex?” 

He nodded somberly and laid his hand on her elbow. 
The situation she described resembled the picture that had flashed before his mind’s eye when he first saw her tears.

She drew her elbow away
as though unworthy of affection and shook her head slowly.  “But now, now he’s turned me into a killer, a terrorist.”

This last sentence caught him by surprise.  “A
terrorist!”  Then, realizing his mistake he calmed his voice and added,  “What did he have you do?”

“It didn’t start like that at first.  He had me bring him plans and progress reports for the UE-2000.”

“So you met him?”  This could be it, right here, right now…

“No, oh no.”  Elaine shook her head and then drew it from her hands.  She still looked pitiful, frightened, drained, but there was also hope in the corners of her eyes.  “He concocted a different elaborate setup each time there was an exchange.  He usually used a kid off the street.  It was like living in
a spy movie.  That first time he had me leave the envelope in my shopping cart at the grocery store after I’d loaded my car.  As I was driving away a kid came up on a skateboard, took the envelope, and disappeared behind the store.  Then a couple of days later I got pictures in the mail, frames of a video showing me leaving the envelope.  He wanted to let me know he had me in more ways than one.”

“Was that all you did, deliver plans?”

“No.  After New Year’s it got much worse.”

“After New Year’s?  That was when Frank took over.”

“You’re right, it was.”  She grimaced and met his eye momentarily, obviously remembering that he had suffered too.  “That was when the voice told me we were starting Phase Two.


I tried to get out then.”  She gave him a guilty look.  “I told him I had done enough, that he should get someone else.  He told me to forget about that.  He said that I was his bitch and that if I tried to deny him he would kill MiMi, then and there.  He said that if I tried to leave him, it would happen immediately, before I could even hang up the phone.  ‘Tell me you’re my bitch!  Tell me now, or it’s bye-bye MiMi.’  He seemed almost excited at the prospect. 

“Of course I did as he asked.  Thereafter at the end of every conversation he would ask me, ‘Who are you?’ and I would have to answer ‘I’m your bitch.’”  Elaine paused to wipe her eye.  “Silly as it may sound, his base language shook me.  He was always very polite, even gentlemanly, except when he was making threats.  I felt like I was dealing with a split-personality, and that made it even scarier.”

“It’s a common technique.  Keeps you off balance and makes you want to please the good guy.  Same psychology as good-cop-bad-cop.  Sorry to interrupt.  You were telling me about Phase Two.”


Instead of just stealing secrets, he started having me sabotage Sharky as well, in lots of different ways.  He would give me a computer virus to plant, or a list of slightly altered blueprint specifications to switch for the real ones, or a coating that I was to spray on certain parts.  But this last time—”  Her voice cracked.  “This last time he had me … It could explode, Alex.  Right there amongst everyone.  I could be responsible for, for the unthinkable.”

Alex reached out and took both her hands in his.  “We’ll figure this out, Elaine.  We’ll find
a way to keep everyone safe.  Of course, the best way for me to do that, to end this, is to catch him.  Tell me, how did he give those parts to you?”

“I would usually just find them on the driver’s seat of my car, with instructions.  If no
parts or tools were required, he would just fax me instructions at home.”

“How did you inform him that you had completed an assignment?”

“I didn’t.  He always just knew.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“No.  I wanted to, longed to, but I couldn’t endanger MiMi and Kimberly.  I forgot to tell you, he left pictures hidden in different places in our home—in the medicine chest, on cereal boxes, even in my wallet—pictures of dead little girls with phrases typed below like, ‘Don’t even think about it,’ or ‘Mommy dialed 911.’  At first I thought your note was one of those.”

BOOK: Coercion
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