Sophie's Father Was A Patriot. That's Why He Was Killed.

Heading North

I got the call I had been waiting for. As with any bureaucracy, some things don't happen without a push. 

The U.S. Office Of Personnel Management responded on behalf of my client, Sophie Tanner, regarding the death of her father.

Mr. Tanner had enough work credits to be given back pay for his service to the country and an Uncle Sam pension.

The government agency he worked for was not specified, but it fell under the all-encompassing umbrella of the U.S. Department Of State. The non-specificity tells you a lot. Tanner was undercover.

During his career as a construction project overseer, Gerry spent much time in foreign countries advising governments on building reinforced underground structures and connecting tunnels. Those facilities would house everything from command and control centers to storage armories, barracks, hospitals, and factories.

Tanner started as a young man just out of the Navy, working alongside Osama Bin Laden while the U.S. was funding a proxy war against The Soviet Union. The caves at Tora Bora were expanded.

Gerry Tanner learned a trade that would serve him for a career, and The U.S. got the details about what they paid for.

He was collecting two paychecks for the same job. Sophie's father was a patriot, which is why he was killed. He knew too much as far as the current clients were concerned.

During World War Two, the Germans took an ancient concept of going deep to new levels. Many of those Axis underground locations have yet to be found. 

America, Russia, North Korea, Britain, Iran, China, and most of the other Western Nations have deep facilities built to survive a nuclear exchange. 

Iran and North Korea are excellent examples of countries that recently constructed un-penetrable manufacturing plants. Their existence in those countries is a focal point in the world's current affairs as North Korea and Iran refine nuclear material deep underground.

Building those kinds of structures requires secrecy. So, how do governments keep these areas secret?

The Third Reich Germans did things the old-fashioned way. They used slave labor to build a facility and then killed the workers as a reward for their hard work. If there were ever any ribbon-cutting ceremonies by big shots, they were done standing on top of the mass graves of the workers.

I can't speak for China, Iran, North Korea, and Russia, but you have to wonder how they achieve secrecy at all costs.

Dead men never talk.

Gerry Tanner may or may not have gotten the word out about his firm's current client before they killed him.

So enough about history.

In The Truck.

Eve and I are going on a hike not because we are healthy and trendy. We are going on a hike to the location where all the plans in Gerry Tanner's computer say we should go.

I hope we beat the FBI and all the other three-letter people to the area. If Welch cracked, The Feds could have visited already. They might be there now, meaning the perfunctory black SUVs and "cheap suit" fashion show with no catwalk might have started already. I hope we beat them.

Eve and I left our cellphones at home for many reasons, so we are stuck with each other's conversation and a country music station during the two-hour drive north. We brought Tango, of course.

This winter day is excellent; the snow among the trees is in small patches.

I glance over at Eve and smile, hoping she notices that my eyes twinkle when I look at her. She's holding a cup of coffee in both hands and suffering my constant need for fresh air despite the temperature being in the mid-forties.

The subject of my cracked open window is about to come up.

She keeps looking at me with a slight pout on her face. She is calculating. 

"Allston, I'll do something you like tonight if you roll that freaking window up. Tango and I are cold." 

Don't you love how she brings the pup into it? Tango's got a fur coat on, and he is a fresh-air freak like me. On warmer days, we both hang our heads out the window.

I addressed her lovely offer, "Are you talking about where you hold your fingers up in the Girl Scout Salute and solemnly swear everything I say is right, and I am always right?" 

"That thing I like?"

"No, I was thinking of something else a bit hotter."

"Baking me some blueberry muffins?"

She's dangling an ace, but this must be played out.

I enthusiastically added, "Oh, that thing where you swear not to complain about me leaving things in the sink, cups on the table, or laundry on the floor for a whole year?"

"I do like that thing," I added.

"No, silly, you know, the thing you want, the thing you always ask for." "Remember the night we met?"  "The thing"

Eve perked up, "I will never give in to those other requests, EVER except maybe the muffins."

Then she stuck a dagger into the offer, "We are about ten minutes from where we are going, so you better take the deal now."

I rolled the window up and started looking forward to the night in our rental cabin.

About Eve: a deal is a deal with her.