Cyber Kittens and Cowboys (11 page)

Preston exits folder & types, quickly
into Internet icon researching that bitch. He stops, suddenly.
Laptop ain’t encrypted. He can’t perform that cyber space spying
function here at airport. He needs his office desktop with all the
right malware and safe guards and secret passwords for secured
access points of government sites.

Ring! Ring!
Preston pulls phone noting
telephone number from that bitch.

“Yeah!”

Pause.

“When?”

Pause.

“I’m not a ding dong, Geneva but I do like
them snacks. They’re sweet and tasty unlike your bitter sour pussy
ass…”

Pause.

“Glad you got my point, too. I concur Pamela
used Ilenn’s Library card to steal the laptop. Call me, when you
find that hardware.”

Pause.

Preston laughs, hardy in baritone trombone.
“Your brain on slo mo, Geneva. Cops’ll never find that hardware
therefore…you don’t call me, period.” He slaps cell shut.
“Bitch!”

Time: 12:01 pm. Hoover Public Library.

Pamela types, slowly & stands, soldierly
at in-house library computer housing all data for books, novels,
archives of the world researching any and all possible information:
Ashley Slanton. She waits and waits, impatiently as little tiny
hourglass spins round and round then like magic lined paragraphs of
newspaper references display onto screen.

Ashley Slanton >> Obituaries >>
Jefferson News Courier in Birmingham, Alabama, March 23, 2010

She scratches, accurately details on pad from
recycle bind of used & abused paper provided by Hoover library
staff for “saving the forest trees” along with blue ink pen she
found on a table.

She enters new command search: Thurston
Slanton.

Thurston Slanton >> Obituaries >>
Jefferson News Courier in Birmingham, Alabama, March 21, 2010

Girl’s relative died two days before and both
occurred over two years ago.

She scribbles, slowly that additional data on
pad & frowns, ugly. Her new lead is dead. Those contacts are
gone to heaven. This isn’t the mighty Internet accessing every
electronic record in the world which could provide answer her
questions and solve her mounting dilemma. Pamela stands, nervously
inside noisy and smelly Hoover library exposing her person near an
open hallway typing diligently for information/clues/hints.

She does have a new lead, researching their
deaths in local newspaper called Jefferson News Courier in March
2010. She might yet find new clues to this mystery. The obvious
hint is the CIA agents died two years ago.

Pamela stares, studiously at her handwritten
deciphered code names from her mighty assembly language
program:

TAG 307891116540 Slanton Ashley IT
106891618322 Slanton Thurston

TAG is code name for Ashley while IT is
Thurston but she doesn’t realize the mathematical numbers. They’re
not telephone numbers based on first three digits in US maybe
foreign cell phones. She doesn’t have a cell phone since she
ditched Lacy’s at Kangaroo Store trash can. She can’t purchase one
either even with the stolen money. She can’t steal one…well she can
but that’s more dangerous.

She grabs, quickly pad & slips, nosily
into backpack then dashes, cautiously down half-empty hallway to
Library Newspapers Archives section where the machines are designed
to read the obit in private and print copy of tragic event.

Libraries overall are supposed to be quiet.
Hoover is one of the busiest in Jefferson County and the largest
that’s why she selected this building over the rest. Middle section
of the open arena at the Hoover library houses children and teen’s
reading/electronic materials making for extremely loud floor space
but good for someone that needs to hide from the local police
authorities.

She jots and jerks, swiftly around little
kids, yelling parents, frustrated students & slow elderly folks
worming her way around rear building & steps, easily into the
newspaper room. Chrome plated 6-tier magazine racks on North wall,
wooden mallet two pocket newspaper racks line West wall and oak
& acrylic literature displays colorfully on East wall while
southern view contains single chairs and double loveseats for
reading and enjoying the skyline view of Red Mountain. Occupants
ignore, gladly her as Pamela tip toes, lightly across carpet to
Archives with small rectangular door leading to privacy.

She picks, lonely terminal in rear &
places backpack on floor as she sits, swiftly working keyboard with
deft finger pads. She re-enters key name and searches by date of
newspaper. Clipping pops, magically upon screen. She scans, wisely
for any more hints of case.

She whispers, softly. “Private graveside
service for Ashley, 23 of Birmingham…”

Private graveside, that’s a key word. She is
CIA agent and CIA is known as deceptive folks regarding data and
people, since before she was born.

She keys other name: Thurston Slanton &
reveals, surprising results.

“The graveside service for Thurston, 24 of
Birmingham…” She blinks eyelids shut, swiftly then open. She sees
the same English words. She whispers, twice. “The graveside service
of Thurston…”

Thurston was provided graveside side while
his sister was given closed casket. Bright red flag!

Pamela flips back to Ashley & re-reads
the article stating in clear black and white letters: Private
graveside service of….

That’s her clue. Ashley is alive, maybe brain
dead or permanently maimed but alive while brother is dead. Pamela
reads, silently complete obituary gathering any more bits of
data.

Ashley was 23 years old buried at Oaktree
Memorial Gardens in Birmingham passing away on March 17, 2010. She
was born in Homewood, loving homemaker & graduated Jefferson
High School. She was born on March 10, 1987. She was preceded in
death by her parents and husband, Thurston Slanton.

“Thurston was her husband, not brother.” She
whispers, softly & doesn’t recognize any more proper nouns or
places including surviving kin or pallbearers. She adds math in
head, quickly. “So sad, 23 years old, now, gone along with her
loving husband.” Pamela shakes, sideways skull.

She flips back to husband, reads, silently
complete electronic clipping.

Thurston was 24 years old buried at Oaktree
Memorial Gardens in Birmingham passing away on March 15, 2010 at
Brookdale Hospital. Visitation hours are Bailey Funeral Home. He
was born on January 16, 1986.

Pamela stops, suddenly. She flips back to
Ashley’s obit, scans, studiously.

She adds, mathematically in skull. “He would
be 26 years today but in 2010, he was 24. That’s right. Math’s
correct. But where’s she hiding?”

Pamela flips back to clipping, reads,
silently more information.

Thurston attended Birmingham University where
he met his wife, Ashley. He graduated Birmingham Law School in 2010
and loved playing football. His interests ranged from snorkeling,
forest camping, spelunking and photography. The rest of the article
lists relative deaths including parents and wife, surviving
kinfolks and pallbearers.

She flips back to Ashley, focuses on word
length of her personal obit, very short. Another giveaway clue,
she’s alive, not dead. CIA has to fake it for that reason, alone.
She giggles, lightly.

However, Thurston is wordy and long covering
his personal hobbies and interests revealing more clues of alive
Ashley and dead Thurston. Pamela sighs, breathes, deeply. There’s
nothing here pinpointing Ashley’s current hidey hole. Both articles
do mention specifically parents are dead along with fake deaths of
Ashley ruling out possible search by telephone or street addresses.
CIA is good but Pamela is best. She giggles, lightly.

She decides, quickly to print hard copies of
obituaries for studying & places one quarter into slot as
machine grinds & gurgles spitting paper then repeats, swiftly
process for Ashley’s obit.

Pamela glides, slowly off stool then
stretches her arms over head & leans backwardly lengthening her
crunched spinal cord. She lifts, slowly backpack, dumps over
shoulder blades moving to vendor machine for Coke and potato
chips.

She sits, quietly in eating lounge munching
on food items, studies, academically both obits side by side.

Common features for both include buried at
same graveside, verified birth dates and married.

One different obvious feature is that
Thurston was treated for his fatal injuries at Brookdale Hospital.
Ashley’s obit didn’t mention any clinical medical center for
injuries/wounds.

So, that means to Pamela that Ashley must
have been treated there also since both worked for CIA on same
mission.

Medical treatment implies medical records.
Medical records require patient privacy information like telephone
number, address and other contact data. That’s Joint Commission
regulation cited by Federal Government governing all hospitals in
USA.

Pamela plans to visit Brookdale Hospital
after she figures how to get inside, not tattled by real working
hospital nurses, not arrested by police and not found by Geneva.
She’ll ponder that later.

Second differential feature is Thurston’s
long list of interests. Pamela thinks CIA went overboard but maybe
Ashley’s a boring person, or just caution.

Pamela reads listing of hobbies. “Spelunking,
cave dancing. Who in their right sane mind would jump around any
enclosed dark slick object for fun?” She giggles, lightly. “That
hobby is usually but not unique inside them high mountains of
Alabama.” She giggles, lightly. She’s imitating Preston and his
irregular Southern vocabulary words because she’s been hanging too
many days with the suave and dreamy Southern gentleman. She smiles,
lovingly, then flips, mentally to task.

Birmingham is surrounded by tippy end of
Appalachian Mountains creating lots of fun outside activities for
athletics, students & family members. She doesn’t do mountain
climbing or cave descending but other fun sporting activities. She
hopes one day she can share her personal activities with Preston
but that’s looks like a negative 1000.

Some obituaries mention what people die of
but not here. Pamela still believes they were part of CIA mission
requiring a little more investigation.

Pamela paces, steady back to Newspaper
Archives, gets comfortably while typing different key words into
local database searching articles related: CIA, BOA, TAG, IT,
Ashley Slanton, Thurston Slanton.

No CIA articles of spies in Birmingham,
Alabama, Pamela isn’t particularly surprised there. She giggles,
lightly.

No BOA articles of either slippery snakes, or
fluffy feathers in Birmingham.

Six different articles refer popular child’s
game: Tag - You’re It!

Pamela reads, silently, scratches, accurately
word “child’s game” onto rough pad.

Tag - You’re It! The outdoor game is played
by kids anywhere from a park to a backyard providing good exercise
and lots of excitement. This game is an elimination game so those
tagged drop out of play. There are many variations including:
Octopus tag, Duck, Duck, Goose tag; Band-Aid Tag, Team Tag; Tunnel
Tag and Zombie Tag.

Pamela skims, slowly article for the group of
English words: “Team Tag.”

Team Tag consists of cops and robbers tag
split into two teams: cops (the “it” team who are in pursuit) and
robbers (the team being chased). The cops arrest the robbers by
tagging them. The game ends when all are tagged out of game.

“Explains the CIA code names TAG and IT.”
Pamela huffs, musically.

Ashley and Thurston are the good guys. Who
are the bad guys? Could Boa be the bad gal or guy?

Pamela scrolls down article seeking “Tunnel
Tag” & finds, quickly only reference name. She gleams, slowly
next boring newspaper article with any interesting tidbits of
useful data.

As she wraps, slowly the last clipping,
tagging definition appears: “Tunnel Tag.”

Variation of Tunnel Tag plays inside walls
those caught must stand against wall until all parties are tagged.
Preference plays well within caverns, or caves. This version
created by Thurston Slanton via the newspaper article.

“Bingo!” She yells, mildly then neck snaps
around room. Empty! She returns to screen, reads, slowly article
quoting “ ‘Thurston enjoyed spelunking under land better than
snorkeling under water and used his both sporting skills in his
job.’ ”

Thurston loved his FBI job…way too much as
Pamela guesses, educationally with heavy evidence points to their
deaths during sporting activities of caving tagging, not water
tagging. Birmingham is landed locked with numerous fresh water
lakes & couple of rivers flowing through valley landscape. You
don’t really snorkel, beautifully with water moccasins in Lake
Smith near Talladega. Also, this is bestest clue her active mind
can deduct without capturing & interviewing Geneva.

Pamela hasn’t thought of Geneva in three
hours & has guessed that Geneva probably knew both Ashley and
Thurston, not BOA. Who is BOA? She shakes, sideways black skull.
She walks out Newspaper Archive Room to Reference Book section of
library.