Going to Montana on business was not a concept that sat well with Harry. Some would call it torture to send an outdoorsman, as Harry was, to such a natural wonderland only to lock him up in a room built with walls of work. Two times playing the part of Tantalus were two too many. The Clark Fork was practically screaming at him to come and play. But Harry’s discipline was superb. Never had he felt so passionate about a mission. Hrel had hit upon the one thing Harry could not erase from his daily thoughts. It was the push Harry needed to go after the one loose end that kept him up at night. Harry’s work could never be called mindless, but it hardly ever involved any real key decision-making. Harry and Lester were instruments—blunt at times and surgical at others. The conversation with Hrel definitively connected Angie to his current mission, and he could not ignore that connection. It didn’t matter if Hrel was trying to get Harry out of the way. He was finally pursuing what he wanted. Harry was taking control. Then Harry read the bumper sticker on the SUV in front of him-- “God is in control.” Harry laughed.
Harry’s training did not focus on procedural investigation. The fear of becoming a charlatan cop began to overwhelm Harry as he drove along the Clark Fork to the only place he could think to start his search. Harry began to see himself as nothing but a glorified con man at the lowest rung of the espionage ladder. Sure, he could take pride in knowing he helped instigate some of the biggest celebrity scandals of the day. He could keep a secret about the unusually high percentage of suicide bombers whose targets were not random. But what had he created? What had he discovered on his own? It was time. Until he met It, Harry assumed, if It did exist, God was not in control.
“I have to find her.”
Harry parked his car in the very same back alley parking lot where he found Ahern’s caduceus. The dumpster was now overflowing with the day’s garbage, and the asphalt had been picked clean by the local insects. Sunlight completely covered the area that before was sparsely lit by security lamps. Mount Sentinel loomed in the distance. Harry stared blankly at the dumpster. Harry had time to formulate a plan during the drive over. He had a picture of Angie from the previous Missoula red folder. That her last mission was an overnight affair was one of the few details Harry was given. Harry was going to try to question every hospitality professional at every hotel, motel, and B&B in town if he had to. He didn’t have to. Fortunately, Ahern’s lodging accommodations were also included in the original red folder. Harry still wished Hrel could have provided some more useful information.
After leaving the dumpster behind, Harry proudly drove his Metro up to the valet station at the Doubletree Hotel.
“Watch out for the turbo. She’s a little monster.” Harry knew when it kicked in, the turbo would startle even the most experienced valets and car wash employees.
“Okie dokie.” The valet, looking at Harry like he should be staying at the motel up the road, ignored what Harry said.
“Hang on a sec. Have you seen this woman? She stayed here around two months ago.” Harry held up the picture of Ahern for the parking attendant to study.
“Sorry. I wish I could help you.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
Harry saw the young man’s head snap back as he drove away.
“I told him.”
Harry received similar responses from the other hotel staffers he encountered on his way to the front desk. It baffled Harry that a woman as stunning as Angie Ahern could be so easily forgotten. Either Harry’s definition of stunning didn’t reconcile with the mainstream, or part of Ahern’s mission had her eschewing face-to-face interaction with the employees of the Doubletree. Harry did not know what alias Ahern would have used, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to check the hotel register. It was time to pull out the federal badge. Harry approached the front desk with his official game face. He dropped the photo of Ahern on the desk and flashed his credentials.
“Hello there… Cindy. I’m Special Agent Hardy with the FBI. I’m investigating a disappearance. We have reason to believe the woman you see in this picture stayed at this hotel between the thirteenth and sixteenth of April. Can I please check your records to confirm this? Her name was Angie Ahern, but we believe she would have used an alias. If you need to get your manager’s permission to fulfill this request I completely understand. I have the proper warrant documentation.”
Cindy looked over at her slightly older counterpart at the next terminal. With a nod of approval, Cindy began typing away. After a minute she had printed up a full list of guests for the time period Harry mentioned. Harry scanned the list intently looking for some name to jump out. He ruled out the guests who paid with credit cards. After flipping through a few pages, he saw the only possible choice. The name hit him square in the face as if he punched himself with knock-out force— “Harry Turquoise”.
“We’re pretty sure this is one of the aliases she uses. Is this room vacant? Can I see it?”
Cindy typed a little more. She was truly excited to be a part of federal missing person investigation. “It is occupied, Agent Hardy, but we can upgrade the guest to another room so you can search it.”
“I sincerely appreciate that, Cindy. I’ll just wait in the lounge while you take care of it. If you could find out who worked housekeeping during that time, I’d like to question them as well.”
“Certainly, Agent Hardy.”
Harry had time to ruminate on his name showing up in the hotel computer as he sipped his coffee and watched folks in the Clark Fork wearing hip waders attempt to fly fish. The true anglers were an hypnotic sight to behold. Their undulating lines seemed to mimic the delta brain waves Harry and most everyone else in the world produced during deep sleep. The caffeine and delta waves began to mix. Harry had always felt a unique connection to Angie, but he was never sure the feeling was reciprocal. Did she know Harry would be the one to come if she did not return? Hrel knew Harry would return to Missoula. He could have tampered with the hotel database. Harry wanted so much to believe that Angie was thinking of him that all other explanations seemed to melt away.
The man tending bar walked over to Harry with a pot of coffee. Word was spreading among the employees that there was an FBI agent in the house tracking someone. Nick, the bartender, always attempted to build a rapport with the male guests. He played the role of concierge to Missoula’s underworld. The tips were nice, but the kickbacks were what kept Nick’s standard of living a notch above his colleagues.
“Fill ‘er up?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“This is the fourth one. I’m going to have to cut you off pretty soon. I can’t have a raving caffeine addict scaring off the other guests.”
“You’re right. I’ll switch to H2O for the next round. Do you mind if ask you a question?”
“I suppose that would depend on the question.”
“It’s pretty simple. Do recognize this woman? Think back a couple months.” Harry showed the photo to Nick.
“I don’t think I’d forget a face like that. She could be a model.”
“I’m positive she stayed here, but no one seems to have seen her.”
“You know, I don’t know if this will help you any, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. A girl that fine is usually headed for one place around here… the Fallen Angel. If you’ve got the lettuce to get into this place, you may or may not find your girl, but you’ll definitely find one or two girls who are one in a million if you follow what I’m saying.”
“I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent.”
“But you’re a man, ain’t ya?”
“Tell me about it, and I’ll take a look.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way. This place is exclusive. It’s a grand just to get through the door. It’s Disneyland for the rich and famous. Our sociopathic millionaires flock to this joint. People come from out of state. It’s a big deal, but no one in the mainstream knows about it.”
“I guess I come across as a sociopath.”
“A little bit. Hey, aren’t we all just a little bit?”
Harry was fascinated by Nick’s approach.
“Think you can afford it? Show me the money, and I’ll show you the way. Even if you don’t find her, I guarantee you the experience of a lifetime. You can tell ‘em Nick sent ya.”
Cindy approached the table. Nick slowly backed away.
“Hi Nick.”
Nick nodded.
“Agent Hardy, the room is ready for you. If you’ll follow me, or you could come to the front desk when you’re ready.”
“I’d like to see the room.”
As Harry anticipated, the room had nothing to offer. He even checked the vents and plumbing for little messages Angie may have left. The message was the alias. The only other lead Harry had at the moment was the Fallen Angel, and it was more of a diversion than a lead. Cindy returned to the room. She was holding something.
“Agent Hardy, one of our concierge staff recalled something about the woman who stayed in 279. She doesn’t remember what she looked like. Apparently she was wearing large sunglasses, and her hair was different from the woman in your picture. But she checked out via our in-room system and neglected to pick this up. She had left this with the concierge desk.”
Cindy handed Harry a porcelain angel.
“Thank you.”
Harry studied every detail. As he turned the angel over in his hand, he noticed some writing on the bottom.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Harry involuntarily let fly.
…
Harry’s training did not focus on procedural investigation. The fear of becoming a charlatan cop began to overwhelm Harry as he drove along the Clark Fork to the only place he could think to start his search. Harry began to see himself as nothing but a glorified con man at the lowest rung of the espionage ladder. Sure, he could take pride in knowing he helped instigate some of the biggest celebrity scandals of the day. He could keep a secret about the unusually high percentage of suicide bombers whose targets were not random. But what had he created? What had he discovered on his own? It was time. Until he met It, Harry assumed, if It did exist, God was not in control.
“I have to find her.”
Harry parked his car in the very same back alley parking lot where he found Ahern’s caduceus. The dumpster was now overflowing with the day’s garbage, and the asphalt had been picked clean by the local insects. Sunlight completely covered the area that before was sparsely lit by security lamps. Mount Sentinel loomed in the distance. Harry stared blankly at the dumpster. Harry had time to formulate a plan during the drive over. He had a picture of Angie from the previous Missoula red folder. That her last mission was an overnight affair was one of the few details Harry was given. Harry was going to try to question every hospitality professional at every hotel, motel, and B&B in town if he had to. He didn’t have to. Fortunately, Ahern’s lodging accommodations were also included in the original red folder. Harry still wished Hrel could have provided some more useful information.
After leaving the dumpster behind, Harry proudly drove his Metro up to the valet station at the Doubletree Hotel.
“Watch out for the turbo. She’s a little monster.” Harry knew when it kicked in, the turbo would startle even the most experienced valets and car wash employees.
“Okie dokie.” The valet, looking at Harry like he should be staying at the motel up the road, ignored what Harry said.
“Hang on a sec. Have you seen this woman? She stayed here around two months ago.” Harry held up the picture of Ahern for the parking attendant to study.
“Sorry. I wish I could help you.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
Harry saw the young man’s head snap back as he drove away.
“I told him.”
Harry received similar responses from the other hotel staffers he encountered on his way to the front desk. It baffled Harry that a woman as stunning as Angie Ahern could be so easily forgotten. Either Harry’s definition of stunning didn’t reconcile with the mainstream, or part of Ahern’s mission had her eschewing face-to-face interaction with the employees of the Doubletree. Harry did not know what alias Ahern would have used, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to check the hotel register. It was time to pull out the federal badge. Harry approached the front desk with his official game face. He dropped the photo of Ahern on the desk and flashed his credentials.
“Hello there… Cindy. I’m Special Agent Hardy with the FBI. I’m investigating a disappearance. We have reason to believe the woman you see in this picture stayed at this hotel between the thirteenth and sixteenth of April. Can I please check your records to confirm this? Her name was Angie Ahern, but we believe she would have used an alias. If you need to get your manager’s permission to fulfill this request I completely understand. I have the proper warrant documentation.”
Cindy looked over at her slightly older counterpart at the next terminal. With a nod of approval, Cindy began typing away. After a minute she had printed up a full list of guests for the time period Harry mentioned. Harry scanned the list intently looking for some name to jump out. He ruled out the guests who paid with credit cards. After flipping through a few pages, he saw the only possible choice. The name hit him square in the face as if he punched himself with knock-out force— “Harry Turquoise”.
“We’re pretty sure this is one of the aliases she uses. Is this room vacant? Can I see it?”
Cindy typed a little more. She was truly excited to be a part of federal missing person investigation. “It is occupied, Agent Hardy, but we can upgrade the guest to another room so you can search it.”
“I sincerely appreciate that, Cindy. I’ll just wait in the lounge while you take care of it. If you could find out who worked housekeeping during that time, I’d like to question them as well.”
“Certainly, Agent Hardy.”
Harry had time to ruminate on his name showing up in the hotel computer as he sipped his coffee and watched folks in the Clark Fork wearing hip waders attempt to fly fish. The true anglers were an hypnotic sight to behold. Their undulating lines seemed to mimic the delta brain waves Harry and most everyone else in the world produced during deep sleep. The caffeine and delta waves began to mix. Harry had always felt a unique connection to Angie, but he was never sure the feeling was reciprocal. Did she know Harry would be the one to come if she did not return? Hrel knew Harry would return to Missoula. He could have tampered with the hotel database. Harry wanted so much to believe that Angie was thinking of him that all other explanations seemed to melt away.
The man tending bar walked over to Harry with a pot of coffee. Word was spreading among the employees that there was an FBI agent in the house tracking someone. Nick, the bartender, always attempted to build a rapport with the male guests. He played the role of concierge to Missoula’s underworld. The tips were nice, but the kickbacks were what kept Nick’s standard of living a notch above his colleagues.
“Fill ‘er up?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“This is the fourth one. I’m going to have to cut you off pretty soon. I can’t have a raving caffeine addict scaring off the other guests.”
“You’re right. I’ll switch to H2O for the next round. Do you mind if ask you a question?”
“I suppose that would depend on the question.”
“It’s pretty simple. Do recognize this woman? Think back a couple months.” Harry showed the photo to Nick.
“I don’t think I’d forget a face like that. She could be a model.”
“I’m positive she stayed here, but no one seems to have seen her.”
“You know, I don’t know if this will help you any, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. A girl that fine is usually headed for one place around here… the Fallen Angel. If you’ve got the lettuce to get into this place, you may or may not find your girl, but you’ll definitely find one or two girls who are one in a million if you follow what I’m saying.”
“I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent.”
“But you’re a man, ain’t ya?”
“Tell me about it, and I’ll take a look.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way. This place is exclusive. It’s a grand just to get through the door. It’s Disneyland for the rich and famous. Our sociopathic millionaires flock to this joint. People come from out of state. It’s a big deal, but no one in the mainstream knows about it.”
“I guess I come across as a sociopath.”
“A little bit. Hey, aren’t we all just a little bit?”
Harry was fascinated by Nick’s approach.
“Think you can afford it? Show me the money, and I’ll show you the way. Even if you don’t find her, I guarantee you the experience of a lifetime. You can tell ‘em Nick sent ya.”
Cindy approached the table. Nick slowly backed away.
“Hi Nick.”
Nick nodded.
“Agent Hardy, the room is ready for you. If you’ll follow me, or you could come to the front desk when you’re ready.”
“I’d like to see the room.”
As Harry anticipated, the room had nothing to offer. He even checked the vents and plumbing for little messages Angie may have left. The message was the alias. The only other lead Harry had at the moment was the Fallen Angel, and it was more of a diversion than a lead. Cindy returned to the room. She was holding something.
“Agent Hardy, one of our concierge staff recalled something about the woman who stayed in 279. She doesn’t remember what she looked like. Apparently she was wearing large sunglasses, and her hair was different from the woman in your picture. But she checked out via our in-room system and neglected to pick this up. She had left this with the concierge desk.”
Cindy handed Harry a porcelain angel.
“Thank you.”
Harry studied every detail. As he turned the angel over in his hand, he noticed some writing on the bottom.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Harry involuntarily let fly.
F. Allen
---
…
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1 comment:
I must sincerely apologize for letting myself and everyone else down this week with this incomplete and tardy chapter. My wife went into labor on Saturday night, and I didn't get to finish the chapter like I wanted to. I had plenty of time during the week to complete it. On Monday I thought about what I wanted to write. I wrote 500 words Tuesday night, 500 words Thursday night, and 700 words Friday night. I took the night off on Wednesday, and I believe this is what doomed me. I had a lot more to write with the possibility of my baby boy coming at any moment. I should have taken every opportunity I had to write. I'm sorry. I'm disappointed I didn't get a chance to type out everything that was in my head. This is the first chance I've had to post.
My baby boy and wife are doing great by the way.
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