CHAPTER TWENTY ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

 

 “Brody here,” Ivan says after the first ring. His voice sounds a lot deeper over the phone.

“Um, Ivan, hi, it’s m-me.” I stutter, and feel like a little kid. I hear murmured voices in the background. Ivan must me inside the surveillance van with the other agents.

Ivan coughs, then asks, “Who?”

“Cookie Blakely,” I say, speaking a little louder. I’m not sure why I’m speaking so low.

“Ahem, sorry, you surprised me and I inhaled a little crumb.” He coughs again. “I was having some of that killer apple pie.” Ivan clears his throat. “I imagine Christopher baked it?”

“Yes, it’s his mother’s recipe. It’s the only apple pie recipe he uses.”

“Well, tell him it and dinner was a major hit. My crew says that they never tasted better. As a matter of fact they’re sitting around in a food coma as we speak.”

I laugh. “Okay. He’ll love hearing that. He’s trying to kick start a catering business, but that’s not why I called you—”

Ivan coughs again. Then I hear him ask Simpson to pass him a bottle of water. “Ahem, hold on Cookie, I need a drink of water.”

I hear clicking like on a computer keyboard. They’re recording everything I’m saying on one of the machines to document our conversation. Get used to it this is how they catch the bad guys. Then I hear Ivan guzzling water out of a bottle. Maybe I should just tell him never mind. Was Palmer right about the old dude in the taxi? He was no doubt just paparazzi trying to gain notoriety by reporting on the Eva Blakely’s daughter. He was a bit too obvious to be KGB. Then I remember seeing Agent Simpson snap pictures of the taxi tonight. 

Ivan comes back on. “So, Cookie, what is it? Are you okay? Should I come over there?”

“No way. I’m fine.” Geez, that’s the last thing I want him to do right now. “There’s something that I need to discuss with you without my father around. Because, hello, you saw how upset he gets when he thinks I’m in any danger.”

“Yeah. Does he have spells like that often?”

“No, but when he does, it scares the crap out of me. He totally hates that we’ve been kept in the dark about Mom. His blood pressure skyrockets and he has to take medication. He never had a health problem before. Uh…”

Tears spring to my eyes and I stop talking for a second. Damn! I look up at the ceiling and swipe under my eyes with my fingertips. “Uh, sorry,” I breathe. “I so didn’t mean to go there…”

I moan and Ivan says, “I understand.”

I’m silent. I’m trying to stop the flood of emotions.

“You still there Cookie?”

I blow out a breath. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just worried that something will happen to Pop and I’ll be all alone.”

I scoot out of the window seat, grab a box of tissues off my dresser, and then scoot back inside the window seat. I draw my feet up and kick Mr. J’s book off the edge. It lands splayed open on the carpet.

Ivan says, “Your dad expressed the same sentiment about you. It sounds as if you two have helped each other make it through this difficult time.”

“Huh, some help I am. I fell apart and almost blew it at school. I’m just now starting to get my act together––somewhat.” I blot my nostrils with wadded tissues.

“Hey,” Ivan says softly. “Believe me, I can identify with everything you are feeling. Hell, when I lost my parents, I started rebelling against authority. I was kick out of school! I got into major trouble. You think you blew it…I was close to going to prison. In Russia, that meant you had zero chance to make anything with your life.”

“So what turned you around?”

“I met my good friend Peter. He kicked my butt in so many ways. Point is Peter’s friendship set me on the right path. By the way, Peter is an American.”

I smile and picture Josh. He’s already influenced me with his new hot bod and his brilliant brain. Totally the opposite of Char’s friendship. Don’t get me wrong. I love Char, but she and I have zero in common.

“That’s cool,” I say, and then blow my nose hopping Ivan can’t hear me. I stretch out my legs. “It’s just that it totally sucks being scared about every single part of my life.”

“You’re probably thinking that just when things started looking better another gang of crazy federal agents show up and all hell breaks lose. Am I right?”

 “Yeah, pretty much. I just wish things could to be normal again.” I wad the moist tissue in a ball and fling it at the little waste basket next to my roll top desk. I miss it by a mile. I get up, toss them in the basket, pull out a fresh tissue, and dab at my drippy nose. “Whatever normal is…”

Ivan laughs. “What do the kids say these days…Get real?”

“Yeah, but normal doesn’t exist in this world.”

There’s a brief silence. I hear Ivan instructing somebody about something. I peer out the window at the top of the van parked next to our backyard. I’m taking up too much time with my silly problems. It’s time to get to the point.

I say, “Ivan? Hello?”

“I’m here.”

“Question. Um, Ivan, Agent Werthoust called here the other night. On my birthday. At first, it blew me away. I mean we haven’t heard from anybody connected to Mom’s investigation for quite awhile…” I pause because it occurs to me that Ivan is the main man running the case now. “Wait. Do you know about the taped conversation I had with Agent Werthoust?”

Ivan doesn’t say anything.

I wad up each of the used tissues and wing them at the wastebasket next to my desk one by one. Two out of three make in. Not bad.

“I confess. I was in the room when Agent Werthoust called.”

“You were?”

Stunned, I sit down on the edge of my bed speechless.

“Yes. I’m telling you because I want you to trust me completely.”

I don’t know what to say.

“Don’t tell anybody, but I think that Willy Werthoust is a little turd in a big pile of crap.”

This catches me off guard and I bust out laughing. Once I gain control, Ivan asks, “So is your conversation with Willy what you want to tell me out of earshot of your father? I heard his response so I gather you too didn’t talk about it.”

“Well, um…he knows the jist of it. He was in the room during. Ivan, there’s something else that I need to tell you.

I stand up and stare down at Mr. J’s book, spread open on the carpet like a bad omen. I bend over, pick it up. I sit down, and flip it over on my lap and see its open to Fredrik Koshechka’s picture. Defying the gnawing, creepy feeling inside my gut, I keep talking, “It could just be my imagination but after you told us about the evil KGB people tonight, I think I should tell you about this creepy man I’ve seen around town the last few days.” There, he knows. I look down at Fredrik Koshechka’s photo and wonder if he’s the shadow Ivan is talking about.

“That’s good Cookie, you need to tell me about anything or anybody you see that makes you feel creepy.”

I chuckle ironically. “Gotta about a year?”

“Sure. When it comes to catching the bad guys and keeping America safe, I will sacrifice every second of the rest of my life.”

I roll my eyes. “Did you steal that from Superman?” 

“I did not! It’s all mine.”

I’m not sure how to kid around with an FBI guy so I don’t say anything more.
Ivan takes the lead and picks up the pace. He says, “Tell me more about this man that has you worried. Can you describe him?”

“Sort of...he’s old. I’m not certain, but I think he might be in the book Mr. Jackson gave.” I pause, close my eyes and picture Valentine’s face. “I thought he was odd because he always wears a black hat and long black overcoat with the collar pulled up around his face. I’m thinking hello, it’s August.”

“He’s probably sixty or seventy, dark hair and really tall, over six feet, with a bulky build and really broad shoulders. The first time I saw him was the night of my seventeenth birthday. After I talked to Agent Werthoust. I was––”

Ivan cuts in. “That was between the hours of six and seven? Correct?”

“I think so.”

Wow, Big Brother at work. Now I’m worried about getting my facts wrong. Wait until he finds out about the yellow throw. Get real, Ivan and his team probably know every little detail about your life. If so, why is he asking? True. I shake my head. I have to trust someone with the government that can help me find out what happened to Mom.

“Cookie?”

“Sorry, I was thinking,” I continue, “Anyway, I left the house about six…or there abouts…” I speed up my story. “Pop wanted me out of the house so he could get my surprise party all set. My first stop was Checkmart. I had to fill up our van and the old guy was in front of me at the gas pumps .He was driving a big luxury car, champagne-colored. The license plate had a frame that said lease me at Ernie’s fine rental cars dot com, like an email no spaces.” I spell it out. “There was a long line at the pumps so I had time to stare at his bumper.”

I take a breath, and then hear more clicking noises. Probably someone is typing this up on a computer keyboard. I picture the inside of the cramped surveillance van and smile.

Ivan asks, “Is that Checkmart on the corner of Wisconsin and Q?”

 “Yeah,” I say, feeling rather relieved that Ivan and the others will (hopefully) check this man out and be done with it so I won’t have to worry anymore about being abducted, or worse. I close my eyes and see the gold block letters. “Ivan, the logo was in all capitals in a bold font if it matters….” Ivan doesn’t say anything so I continue, “We know the people who own the Ernie’s car rental company. He’s related to the owner’s of Zavallas Garage on Wisconsin. The two buildings are linked.”

“Great work Cookie! I’m going to have you work with an artist,” Ivan says.

“I had a strange feeling about him the moment I saw him.”

Ivan says, “Always go with your gut.”

I smile. “Hey, that’s my motto.”

“Can you hold one second?” 

“Okay. Sure.” I smile feeling pleased with myself for paying attention instead of walking around in a fog like most people. I expected Ivan to put me on hold instead he lets me hear everything being said.

 “Heckle, check this out on the Internet,” I hear Ivan say, and I picture Agent Heckle, the only girl in the van.

I turn around and stare at the van’s roof line, on the other side of our fence. I plug my other ear and press my cell to my right ear to hear better. After a minute or two, Agent Heckle say, “Ivan, they have a website.”

Ivan says. “Agent Johnston, call HQs and get a reconnaissance squad over there, pronto!”

After a moment of listening to them, I say, “Um, Ivan?”

Ivan presses on his earbud. “Yes, sorry Cookie. We’re working on tracking down your perp.”

“Cool. Well, there’s more.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I don’t know if it makes any difference, but the car the man at the Checkmart rented was in fact parked in front of our van on Wednesday morning when we took my Mustang in for repairs at Earl Zavalla’s Family Garage.”

“Go on.”

“That morning, my dad followed me over in his van and parked across the street in Ernie’s rental car lot. We bought the Mustang from Earl’s Zavalla’s son, Earl the second. Ernie and Earl are cousins and their businesses share a wall. Pop has known the Zavalla’s for years. We’re actually catering their grandson’s wedding on September 11. Anyway...” I take a deep breath. “…the reason I’m telling you all this is because when I saw the car again I was able to memorize the tag number. It’s C-Y-7-1-2-4.”

Ivan repeats the number, then says, “Johnston, go ahead and run that plate number and find out everyone you can.”  I hear more clicking and after a minuet or so, Ivan says, “Got it. It’s a 2006 Lincoln Town Car, registered to an Earnest E. Zavalla. You’re sure it was the same car?”

“Yes, a teensy fleck of gold paint was missing on the “E” in Ernie on the license plate frame. It made it look like Frnie. That imperfection made me remembered it.”

“Good recon work,” Ivan says. “I wish more witnesses were as vigilant.”

“There was nothing else to do but people watch. I was stuck in the gas line.”

Ivan asks, “When and where else did you see this man?” 

“He was in a taxi cab so he must’ve only had the rental car over the weekend. This made me think that he might be from out of town. I’m just hypothesizing––”

“No problem. We’re talking Tuesday, August twenty-second?”

“Um. Hang on.” To be sure, I get up and dash over to my Goo-Goo Dolls calendar. I circled date, Monday 21 because it was the first day of school. “Yes sir.”

Ivan says, “So what is it about this guy that makes you think he’s stalking you? I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Well what initially creeped me out was when he finished pumping his gas, he didn’t circle in front of his car, instead he made a point of going to the back, and then squeezed between our bumpers. He paused halfway through and looked right through the windshield at me and winked.”

“He winked at you?” Ivan sounds incredulous.

“Yeah, pretty strange huh? It’s more like a twitch. At first, I thought he was a perv or a dirty old man that liked to gawk at young girls so I quickly pushed down the button that locks all the doors in the van. I was about to call nine-one-one, but that would mean I would have to call my dad too. Need I say more?”

“I understand your catch-22. I’m a big MASH fan. Anyway, did this guy make any obscene gestures or say anything to lure you out of your vehicle?”

I shake my head. “No. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, it wasn’t like that at all. In a way he comes across––I guess you could say almost friendly. For lack of a better word.”

“Careful, there are a lot of weirdos around DC who will do anything to ensnare kids.”

“True. It’s just that the way this guy looked at me almost seemed familiar. His expressions weren’t mean or vulgar. I don’t know how to explain it…he’s sort of the grandfatherly type. Is that even a word?”

“Sure, ‘grandfatherly’ works. Are you saying that he didn’t make you feel scared or threatened?”

 “Honestly, I don’t know now. Deep down, I think that’s why I kept flip-flopping on if I should mention him to my dad or anyone of authority. I did tell a friend. However, he thought I was over reacting because of everything that’s taken place over the last year. Every place we’d go some jerk journalist would take our picture or hound us to talk to about Mom. It got so bad we started wearing disguises when we went anywhere. They slowed down, but as you saw tonight, there’re still out there.”

“Cookie, you have to be really cautious when you’re out of the house. Don’t try to confront this guy on your own. He might be using this friendly old man tactic to make you feel comfortable about talking to him, and then force you into his car.”

“Don’t worry. I totally get that you don’t mess with strangers. My overly protective father is constantly warning me about sexual abductors and the like.”

“Good, make sure you listen to him. So is there more?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just getting started.” I sit up and cross my legs. “Naturally, my first instinct was to just leave, but I had to fill up with gas. My dad likes to drive on fumes so the tank was, like, below empty. Anyway, after he winked at me, I slid down in my seat and observed him as he walked away. He walked across the asphalt and went inside the Checkmart store. While he was inside, different scenarios ran through my head. I though he might be concealing a gun under the big coat. I had a bad feeling that he might be a terrorist or robber. About ten minuets later, he comes out with a bag of groceries or whatever and nothing happened. He just got in his car and drove away. By then I was fuming thinking how totally rude he was to make me wait while he shopped. I wanted to scream next time move your stupid car moron!”

Ivan chuckles at my mannerism. “Glad you didn’t confront him. Tell me about Tuesday’s sighting.”

“He was at my school, Georgetown High, in the backseat of a taxi cab. It was after swim team tryouts, around five o’clock.” I explain that Sean was with me and how the crazy cab driver almost ran us both over at different intervals. I describe the cab driver and how the man in the backseat turned around and looked at me. “It was the same man I saw at the Checkmart. I was going to say something to the driver about how close he came to killing us and let him know that he was not supposed to park in the bus lane. I didn’t want to get into it because Sean was having a bad day and I’d kept him waiting long enough. Long story.”

I feel like I’m taking a long time to tell Ivan all the little details, but he says “Don’t leave anything out.”

“Ivan, he had a camera and was taking pictures of us!”

“A camera.”

“Yes! I saw it flashing. Then, when I arrived at our house later on, I was getting my things out of the backseat and the same cab drove by our house.”

“Really, so what was he doing. Meaning, did he go inside the school?”

“No. The two of them just sat in the cab. Sean and I were sitting in my car talking. After awhile the driver drove by us and the guy in the backseat rolls down his window and snaps pictures of us.”

“Interesting.”

“It was so weird. I stood there on the sidewalk like a deer in headlights wondering what to do. I was pretty shook up seeing him again, but not terrified. You know? Sean’s a blackbelt, he could protect me. Then I started thinking what if they have guns. By then Sean was getting impatient so I hurried over to my Mustang and told Sean that the old man was stalking me. Sean thought I was jumping to conclusions. He said the man’s wife is probably a teacher or works at our school...and he was most likey there to pick her up in the cab.”

Ivan asks, “Why didn’t you two just leave?”

I feel my face grow hot. “Um, we were having a serious conversation? My life is complicated right now. Please don’t ask why.”

“I need to know,” Ivan says. “I can find out on my own.”

“Uh, alright. Sean Palmer was my boyfriend. We were actually having a fight that day and ended up breaking up.” I remember that he drove by the house earlier. That seems like a million years ago.

Ivan says, “Sorry.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s okay.”

“Sean sounds like an idiot.”

I laugh. “Anyway,” I say blowing out a breath. “The cab stayed parked in the front of the school for awhile. Then they started circling my Mustang, taking pictures. After that they drove away.”

“Sean did call the police and reported them for harassing us, but if they ever showed up it was too late.” I recall sitting in my car after Sean got out. I was freaking fuming. I wanted to beat something, anything to a pulp. Instead, I cried until I couldn’t cry any more…

 “Huh, and here I was thinking that Josh O'Dell was your boyfriend,” Ivan says, breaks into my thoughts.

I gasp. “What? Josh O'Dell? No way!” I feel my face heat up again. “What made you think that he was my boyfriend?”

“Well…I saw the two of you hugging before he left. I assumed—”

“Oh that? No, we’re just friends.” Oh geez, Ivan must’ve been in the living room looking out the window doing his reconnaissance thing. “We had to talk about an assignment…” I think better not tell Ivan we’re investigating Mom’s case.

“So let me get this right,” Ivan says, sounding amused. “You’re lab buddies so you have study dates.”

Study dates. “I wouldn’t call it a date. Josh is in my Crime Science class. Mr. Jackson let me switch seats because Jimmy Beal always acts like a spaz. Josh came over so I fill him in because he was missed a few days—oh, forget it!” I’m trying to stick to what’s relevant and not go off on a tangent.

“So did you see this old guy again?”

“Yes. The last time I saw him was after school on Wednesday. Pop picked me up, and we went to the Georgetown Mall. We went to the Food Court. While Pop ordered our food, I was looking for a table. I see this guy wearing the same black hat overcoat with the collar turned up. But this guy had a white beard. He had the same gait as the guy at Checkmart. I’ve always notice the way people eat, walk, and their posture. It’s just something I like to do. I think those things can tell you a lot about a person. Don’t you?”

“Definitely, profiling is a huge part of my job. I teach a class Machiavellian psychology. It suggests that if you profile people around you, you'll be less inclined to be involved in personal conflicts.”

“Well I’m good, because I pretty accurate at reading people.”

“Perhaps you—and Josh—both have a future in Law enforcement.”

“I’ve considered following that path.” I switch ears and flex my fingers. Then I remember… “Ivan, I took pictures of him with my cell phone camera. They came out grainy, but I noticed that he has a birthmark or mole next to his left eyebrow, which was bushy and white. What I’m saying is I think the white beard and eyebrows were false.” I look over at my roll-top desk. “I printed out a copy.”

“Excellent. I’d very much like to see that picture. Go ahead and Email it to the address on my business card.”

“Okay.”

 I stand up and power up my computer. Then I retrieve the copy from the desk drawer. I click on my bedside lamp, unfold it and hold it under the shade. I stare at his face. Wait. I seen this man before this past week…but where?

“So…” Ivan says slowly, probably making notations and gesturing with hand language at the others––multi-tasking. “…you think they were all the same person? That the man you saw Wednesday at the Georgetown Mall was the same man you saw on Saturday at the Checkmart and Tuesday in a Taxi at your school?”

“Yes!”

I blink as images of the past few days flash through my mind.

“Oh, I can’t believe that I almost forgot this. When I pulled in the driveway Tuesday, the taxi drove by our house. And Ivan, what’s really weird––is I think I’ve seen him before. But it was a long time ago. I just don’t know where, yet. I’ve been racking my memory. It’ll come to me.”

With everything else going on in my life—school...Sean...Josh...My car—I haven’t had time to really think about where I remember this guy from. I search my memory and come up with nothing.

“Trust me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Ivan assures me. “I promise. I’m not going to take my eyes off of you or your father.”

Don’t forget to shoot the picture to me. Use the secure email on my card to attach a copy of that photo. Well, is there anything else we need to know?”

 “Um...no, I think I covered everything know for now.” My hand is sweaty and shaking. I grip the phone and shiver as I glance out at the yard, and then at the surveillance van under the streetlight. Please believe me. I’m not imagining this. Please find out why this man is watching me. Ivan, this is really spooky. I’m scared…I mean what if this guy tries something? What if he’s out there right now––watching me?”

I panic and shout, “Ivan! Wait!” I’m griping the phone too hard and it slips out of my hand. I yelp as I try to catch it. Good grief, talking about that guy is giving me the creeps. I pick it up off the floor and hear Ivan yelling.

He sounds alarmed. “Cookie, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” I manage to squeak out. “Sorry. I dropped my cell.”  

“Oh.” Ivan says, “You’re tired.”

Actually, I’m wide awake now. “Hey, thanks for taking so much time to hear me out. I know you have better things to do.”

“Not at all, this is my job, remember?”

“Okay, here’s the deal. You catch this guy and you become my new Super Hero. Superman is a wimp.”

“I’ll do my best. We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night Cookie.”

I click off and quickly scribble down all the stuff I learned in my Crime Science notebook. I jot down a few things I remember about some of the people working at the Alpine Chalet Resort—in particular, the Housekeeping Manager. One morning I saw him grope one of the waitresses. In addition, I noticed Agent Werthoust sleeping on a couch in the lobby. I rack my brain wonder if I’d forgotten anything else. Oh, man…should I go ahead and tell Ivan about Mom’s yellow throw too? I look outside my window. I’d rather wait until I talk to Josh. It would really suck if Agent Brody turns out to be like Agent Werthoust. In reality, Josh O'Dell is the only person I can trust right now. I glance at my alarm clock. It’s getting pretty late. I pack it up, peel off my sweats and crawl between the covers. I fell asleep with my cell phone next to my pillow hoping Josh would call me back.