Shoreline Read online

  The floorboards of the hundred-year-old home did not welcome attempts at stealth. She walked as lightly as she could into the room, but the floor creaked with every footfall. Nora’s adrenaline had shot up again, coursing through her limbs, sharpening her brain.

  How did they find me?

  She scanned the living room and listened carefully. There was a sound coming from the back, near the bedroom. Footsteps like her own falling across a protesting floor.

  They were coming toward her now, swift and steady.

  She darted right, flattening herself against the living room wall, tensing. Then she arranged herself in guard stance, weight on her rear leg.

  A figure emerged from the dining room, and Nora unleashed a roundhouse kick.

  And suddenly Ben was lying on her floor.

  “Ben!” she gasped, falling to her knees beside him.

  “Jesus!” he coughed, doubling up, clutching his chest.

  “Oh my God, Ben, I’m so sorry—”

  He took a few moments to cough, then opened very green eyes to look up at her.

  She bit her lip, patting him gently. “Sorry?” she said again.

  He grumbled, “This isn’t the reunion I was hoping for.”

  Nora curled her legs under her and helped pull him to a sitting position. “Messing around in my apartment, huh?”

  “Um, you did give me a key.”

  She smiled. “Of course I did. Took you long enough to use it.”

  He shook his head, observing her. “You look like complete hell.” He winced as he ran his fingertips along the large bruise on her cheek where Goatee had struck her.

  She patted her hair. “Yes, well, next time call and let me know you’re coming. I’ll pretty up.”

  He adjusted his position and pulled a shiny new BlackBerry out of his blazer pocket, handing it to her. “You didn’t actually have a phone. Which is why the secretary lady gave me this to deliver.”

  She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. Any chance she sent you my gun and badge with that?”

  He gestured with a backwards nod of his head to the dining room table.

  She peered up and saw a Glock in a new shoulder holster. Next to this were the requisite papers to sign checking it to her name. There was also a new set of credentials. “Okay. Three presents from Maggie. Where’s my present from you?”

  “Brought you a pony,” he said earnestly. “It’s in the backyard.”

  She smiled, despite herself.

  “Maggie told me you’d also been burned in the downtown scene two days ago.” Frowning, he ran his hand along her arm to where the gauze was still wrapped. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  She shook her head at him, trying to convey without words how deeply his trip to visit his ex had upset her. In the apartment above them, Rachel had launched into a meditative piece that drifted down through the floor like a warming mist.

  He leaned back, listening, and then brushed his fingertips along her cheek, looking into her eyes. “You still mad at me?”

  She nodded. “But I had a bad day. Sheila and Schacht sent me home and wouldn’t let me go help Pete.”

  “Pete’s gonna be okay, Nora.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “You don’t know that,” she said, shaking her head.

  “CIRG is good, Nora. Let them do their thing. You’re no good to anyone if you’ve collapsed.… Rest.”

  She returned his long look, feeling something unfurl within herself. Her breath suddenly came easier.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Nora. I was trying to do the right thing.”

  Nora studied his features. The sandy hair and strong jaw, the soft lips. “I have zero interest in talking about this now, Ben,” she said quietly and without anger. “I’m just really, really tired. And I probably have a tick from having to hide facedown in the forest. Ten ticks. I probably have ten ticks.”

  He carefully came to a standing position, groaning slightly and rubbing his chest, then extended a hand to her so she could join him. She took his hand and rose slowly. She tried not to moan with the effort; her whole body hurt in a way it simply never had. He gently tugged the elastic out of her hair and began running his fingers through it, touching her scalp each time.

  “I don’t feel any ticks,” he said. “But you should probably wash this hair. This is not city-girl hair, for sure. There’s like, twigs and stuff stuck in it. Maybe a possum or something…”

  She nodded reluctantly; showering sounded as if it’d be an inconceivably difficult task.

  “I’m gonna tuck you in. And then I’m gonna go hang out with my buddies Ford and Chidambaram and let you get some sleep.”

  “Make them get my partner back, Ben. He’s a … good egg.”

  “I will,” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her lips very gently. “I heard you were a superhero out there,” he murmured.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I think my best moment was just now when I kicked your ass.”

  SECOND DAY

  Nora slept deeply and without dreaming. If Rachel played anything, she did not hear it.

  She jolted awake, covered in sweat.

  It took her a long time to sort out that she was not in the small apartment over her father’s Arch Street restaurant in Philadelphia. She rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, finding it at odd angles. She was grateful Ben had made her take a shower before getting into bed, although she should have remembered to braid her wet hair before sleeping.

  She sighed. Her stomach ached with hunger again, and she mentally began running through the contents of her pantry. There was a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, she knew. But was there milk…?

  Suddenly she became fully awake. Pete.

  I have to check in. The glowing hands of her wristwatch told her it was almost four in the morning. She went to find the new phone Ben had brought her.

  It was lying on the dining room table where she’d left it next to the Glock and her credentials. The screen was just fading into darkness after having recently received a new text. She peered at it. It was from Ben.

  No change. Hostage Rescue Team is still negotiating. A few of us are at your office. Come when you can.

  Nora gathered her mass of bent and twisted curls into a tight knot at her neck, still slightly higher than usual to avoid the burnt skin. Then she slipped on a clean Oxford shirt and holstered her new gun. She hesitated, looking at the Israeli Kevlar, then remembered Sheila’s direct orders. They were targets now. She strapped on the vest, reluctant to submit again to its grim weight.

  She grabbed a PowerBar and a slightly bruised banana out of her kitchen, slipped her feet into the purple Wave Riders, then headed out into the darkness.

  Perry Square was well-lit for the pre-dawn hours. A bent man, his reddish beard as thick as it was unruly, was sitting on the low wall that rimmed the park. He watched her as she approached. “Strange times, lady.”

  She nodded and continued her brisk pace without answering.

  He raised his voice slightly, but his words were slow and clear. “Just because I’m a white man, don’t mean I support all this shit goin’ down.”

  Nora paused to regard him. Then she handed him her banana and PowerBar. “Let’s hear it for assuming the best about each other,” she said.

  He grinned, accepting the food, revealing a few precariously dangling teeth.

  By the time she got to the office, she was ravenous. Ben greeted her in the foyer after she swiped in. She could tell he wanted to lean in to kiss her, but held himself back with an it’s the office sort of look. “You okay?” he asked as she unstrapped her bulletproof vest.

  She nodded grimly but gave him a small smile. “A little sleep goes a long way. But I need, like, food. Anything at all. Anything not still walking around.”

  “We ordered pizza from some sketchy all-night place,” he said. “Might be a little cold now though.…”


  “Oh, Nick’s? Nick’s isn’t sketchy, it’s, like, perfect. Please tell me you got something without pepperoni. I’m beggin’ you.”

  “I did. These guys were all, no, get all meat, and I was sure you’d pop up at some point so I insisted on a non-pork option.”

  “My hero,” she said.

  He grinned at her. “Say it again.”

  “My hero,” she said, and for good measure she pecked him on the cheek. “Let’s eat!”

  He led the way toward the conference room, but Nora stopped dead in her tracks.

  “What happened to this place?”

  “CIRG descended. Those who aren’t Enhanced SWAT needed somewhere to leave their stuff—there was no time to check into a hotel. Everyone had gone straight to survey the refugee center and then the would-be bombing site, and just as they were packing it in for the night, Schacht gave them the call that they needed to begin negotiating out at the compound. Those who could, dropped their things here and spooned some Folgers crystals into their mouths before heading out again.”

  The office was strewn with carry-on luggage and abandoned suit jackets. In front of Maggie’s empty desk was a pile of plastic bags. She saw a pair of black high heels, and wondered if the woman they’d brought in to deal with the press had finally realized she wasn’t going to get to sit down anytime soon, said, Screw it, and found some sneakers.

  “Alright then. Welcome,” Nora said to the room. Then she added softly, “I hope they know what they’re doing.” Her fear for Pete felt like hands tightening around her throat.

  Ben saw the anxiety in her eyes.

  “He’ll be alright, Nora. Those idiots have everything to gain by letting him go unharmed.”

  Nora shook her head. “Ben, they don’t care if they live or die. Why would they care what happens to him?”

  Ben gazed at her, and she saw him make a conscious decision not to give her false promises. “Well, maybe here in the quiet we can figure something out that will help him.”

  Nora took a second to savor the sound of his voice. “I’m glad you’re here, Ben.”

  “I’m glad I’m here, too. Philly’s so … boring,” he said, and they both laughed, recalling their phone conversation of three days ago where Nora had used that very word to excess.

  Ben pushed open the conference room door. The long table was littered with more paper than she had ever seen. An extra-large pizza box sat in the center of the table, two-thirds of its contents having been consumed. Each of the agents was holding a slice of pizza and looking sleepy.

  Ford waved to her; under the brightness of the halogen bulb, she found herself studying him, wondering again how he got the scar on his cheek.

  Chid mustered a kind smile. “Nora! How are you?”

  She was silent a moment, wondering how to frame the response. Desperately worried about Pete, shell-shocked from all she had seen in the last two days, and her body ached from a long list of burns and bruises.… Finally, she said, “I’m clean. That’s about all I got at this point.”

  Even Ford cracked a smile. “Welcome to the war room.”

  “How did you get out of standing vigil outside the compound?” she asked.

  “The Hostage Rescue Team is very territorial,” he said. “It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Washington boys,” Chid said with a shrug. “Lot of dick waving going on.”

  Nora gave a knowing nod, although she was foggy, and felt it best to remain so, on the dynamics of dick waving.

  “Anyway, we came to be Schacht’s brain trust,” said Chid. “So we are doing what we do best.”

  “Eating pizza at 4 A.M.?” asked Nora.

  “And rockin’ the laptops,” said Chid with a grin.

  Nora walked to the middle of the table and seized a slice of pizza from the grease-splotched box. Ben had gotten her mushrooms and green peppers, her favorite, but it had apparently had few other takers.

  “Oh,” she said. “That is so, so pretty.” She took a bite and chewed rapidly, then said, having not quite swallowed, “What are we working on?”

  “Gabriel Baker,” answered Ben.

  “He’s pretty, too,” Nora said. “Maybe a little too pretty.”

  “Chid was saying the same thing.”

  Nora looked at him and asked, “What were you saying, Chid, and why?”

  “I was saying that he is spouting all kinds of rhetoric that doesn’t seem to mesh. I mean, look. He’s clearly a smart enough guy for a … what is he again?”

  “He was a truck driver,” Ford supplied. “I don’t have any records for a while now. No employment, no health insurance, no taxes.”

  “He’s never been out of the country. Joined the NRA at the age of sixteen, member of the local rifle club. Volunteer for the fire department when he was living in Lake City. He was on the roster of a church.…”

  “What kind of church?” asked Nora.

  Ford shuffled papers, looking. “Lake City Baptist Temple.”

  “Extremist?” she pushed.

  “It’s not on anyone’s list, if that’s what you mean,” Ford answered.

  “Is it one of those scary mega-churches?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  Chid said, “This area really doesn’t have the population to sustain a mega-church.”

  “Doesn’t rule out being extremist country though,” Ford said. “Most rural churches are preaching that immigration and the concomitant religious pluralism are the primary reasons for the country’s downfall.”

  “Preachers and politicians,” Ben muttered.

  “Well, yeah. Exactly. Like we said, the typical militiaman isn’t a big reader,” Ford said. “He opens his ears to the rhetoric of a good speaker, then asks himself the all-important question.”

  “What’s the all-important question?” asked Nora.

  “Are you a man of action?”

  Nora nodded. “Except now women are asking it, too,” she pointed out, remembering the scene at the refugee center, and deciding against the second piece of pizza.

  “Yes, now women as well,” Chid said quietly.

  “Is Baker one of those ‘traditional values mean my woman’s traditionally in the kitchen’ kinda guys?” Ben asked.

  “Hard to say,” Chid answered. “Calling on women to take up arms isn’t any indication that you’re convinced of their equality. It’s done when they’re needed. Manpower. The U.S. allowed women into the war efforts in World Wars I and II because of need, not desire. And most were sent back where they started when it was all over. The Israeli Defense Forces draft women because they need warm bodies.” Chid gave Nora a pointed look. “Even Yasir Arafat did it in Palestine … his so-called ‘Army of Roses,’ right? Not a feminist.”

  “I’m not Palestinian,” she whispered loudly.

  “I know,” he whispered back just as loudly. “I looked you up.”

  Nora scoffed. “In the middle of, like, the apocalypse here, you were so irritated that you couldn’t figure out my heritage … that you researched it?”

  Chid waved her off. “Solving puzzles is what I do. Do fish apologize for swimming?”

  “And now that you know?” Nora pressed. “Have you figured me out?”

  Ben perked up in his chair. “If so, can you tell me?”

  Chid laughed cagily. “We were talking about Gabriel Baker.”

  “What radicalized him?”

  “Well, we can make some guesses,” Ford chimed in. “He’s not from here, for one thing.”

  “More urban or more rural?” asked Ben.

  “More rural—the town of Ulysses in north central Pennsylvania.”

  “Ohhhh,” said Nora.

  “You remember?” Ford asked, eyeing her with interest. “You must have been a pretty spectacular student.”

  Nora could feel Chid observing her with that look he got. She shrugged. “I’m a nerd,” she said.

  “That’s a lie!” Ben protested. “You’re the jock in our relationship.”
He gestured at her as he looked to the others for help. “She’s the jock, I swear.”

  Nora gave him a small smile. “Yes. Well. I guess I found myself at Quantico.”

  “And! Empirically speaking, domestic terrorism is fascinating,” added Chid. “She couldn’t help herself.”

  Nora said nothing.

  “Come on, it’s a little fascinating,” he pushed.

  Ben intervened. “Come on. What’s significant about Ulysses? You know, for those of us who are apparently not nerdy enough to retain information?”

  Nora sighed. “There was an Aryan Nations World Congress there. 2002.”

  “Oh, shit,” Ben said, swiveling in his chair, a frown etching into his features. “But no one takes that shit seriously … right?”

  Ford looked up. “Baker didn’t leave Ulysses for the region up here until 2003.”

  “Three hours away,” said Chid, goading. “Three hours away from all that delicious ideology. Edible, digestible, delicioussssssss…”

  “You think he met Kreis?” Nora asked Ford, ignoring Chid.

  “August Kreis? I can’t think why not,” Ford answered. “What could be going on in Ulysses PA that was more interesting than August Kreis training the Aryan Nations?”

  Nora considered this. “I can’t think of anything, frankly,” she said.

  “Exactly,” said Chid and Ford together.

  “Oh, that August Kreis,” Ben said. “The one who declared his support for—”

  “Yes, well,” Nora said curtly. “We can’t all be enlightened voters. Some of us need guidance from neo-Nazis. I still don’t get it though. How anything those guys could say would stick with anyone. Anyone!”

  Chid took a deep breath, thinking. “For many different reasons, not all of them the same for each person who thinks this way. One is the sense that their language is losing ground, one might be that they can’t put the nativity scene out at schools and courthouses. Another problem comes up when schools can’t start their kids’ day with prayer—and all of a sudden they feel challenged. Everything they assume about the world is thrown into jeopardy. You start asking questions about God and that’s it!” He snapped his fingers. “Everything unravels.”