CHAPTER FOURTY-FIVE ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

Pop and I clean up and dresses casually for the evening. I wear a matching yellow cotton short set. Pop puts on his top siders. He looks spiffy in his white linen shirt and navy blue Dockers. With the bad sunburn, he actually seems to be glowing in the dark. At least I got him to use my aloe after sun lotion after his shower. I strap on my sandals and stand next to him, running a brush through my hair. Pop dabs a little lotion on his face, and then hands me the bottle. “Thanks love, this stuff really takes the sting out.” He slides his wallet, a fresh handkerchief, and keys.

I smile at his reflection.

“Ready?”

“Yepper.” I grab my purse.

Pop glances around the room, and then opens the door. “Want to take your camera?”

“Oh, yeah.” I slide my camera’s strap over my wrist and go outside. “Thanks.”

“I forgot to tell you that I took some pictures of you surfing,” Pop says, as we tromp down the stairwell.

“You did? I’ll just be a dot in the big ocean.”

“Yes, but at least your surfing première is documented.” Pop gestures at the set of glass doors leading to the lobby. “Let’s stop at the front desk and ask the clerk where to get a good seafood dinner.”

The man working suggests we drive down to the Cocoa Beach Pier and eat at Oh Shucks, a popular seafood restaurant with open-air seating. We drive the short distance to a fairly wide wooden pier that juts out into the Atlantic Ocean lined with shops and restaurants. It’s packed with people, there are surfers next to the pier, people swimming in the surf, and walking the beach. We devour a gigantic surf and turf dinner and key lime pie for dessert. We’re so full we have to walk around or go into a food comma. After checking out every shop on the pier, we drop off our purchases in the car, and stroll on the beach next to the pier for a little while.  After that, we drove back to our hotel and even played a round of putt-putt golf. At ten o’clock, we’re ready to call it a night. We take turns in the bathroom. Pop helps me pull out the sofa bed. I peck him on the cheek and frown. “Ivan never called.”

“No news is…” Pop says, crawling between the sheets.

I’m wide awake. I plop down with the remote and watch a rerun of Friends with the volume down low. When it’s over, I glance over to check on Pop. He’s snoring softly on his bed. I tip toe around the room, turn off the lights, fetch my cell phone, and then slowly open the sliding glass door and step out on the balcony. Sliding the door shut, but leaving a crack so I don’t lock myself out. The sea breeze whips my hair around as I sit down on one of the strappy chairs and prop my bare feet on the railing. I wrap my locks in a scrunchy and hear a ruckus. I stand up and glace around. The swimming pool behind the hotel is still packed with screaming kids.

“Jeez, don’t these people ever sleep?”

I sit for a spell and check my cell for any messages from back home. Nada. All of a sudden, it’s very quiet. Pool must’ve closed. I take a deep breath and listen to the waves crashing on the shore in the distance. The stars above the purple haze on the horizon glimmer like diamond chips. A full moon hanging in the dark blue almost navy sky illuminates the ship lights flickering out on the horizon. As my eyes adjust, I notice dim figures strolling on the beach. I glance over my shoulder wishing I’d brought Mom’s binoculars out here with me. Oh well, I don’t want people to think I’m spying on them. I speed-dial Josh’s number and put the phone to my ear. It rings and my heart goes thumpity-thump. Come on answer the phone! I take another breath.

Why am I so nervous?

It startles me when Josh picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Josh, hey, it’s Cookie. I hope I didn’t wake you...”

“Hey, it’s you! No, it’s only eleven,” he says sounding wide awake. “I was starting to worry.” I smile. Awe, he misses me. “Why haven’t you called sooner?”

“I did. I mean, I tried to call you...um on…”

Josh laughs. “I understand. I forget what day it is while I’m on vacation too. I must’ve accidently deleted your message.”

I make a face and say in a little voice, “Sorry. I didn’t leave one.”

“Oh.”

“Long story.” My answer to everything I don’t have an answer to.

There’s a pregnant pause then Josh asks, “So…how’s the vaca?”

“Perfect, but going way too fast. Disney was amazing. We’re in Cocoa Beach now.” I glance around at my surroundings. “I’ve wanted to come here for like, my whole life…and plan to return!”

“Cocoa Beach is nice. I’ve been to there and the Space Center too. How’s the surfing? Catch any good rides?”

I laugh and lift my left leg, checking the gash on my knee. “I think I did pretty well. I have major strawberries on my knees to prove it.” I sit back in the chair. “Oh my gosh Josh, surfing is incredible! Get this! Pop surprised me with a new surfboard from Ron Jon’s surf shop––it’s within walking distance from our hotel! And yes, wave action today was killer!”

“Okay, now I’m green with envy.”

“So, what’s the haps with you? Any new developments?”

“I’ll bet you’re glad you’re there.”

“Why? What’s going on?” I swat my thigh and find myself twitching in the lawn chair. What the heck is biting me? I look down at my legs. There’s nothing.

“Wait. You haven’t been watching the news?”

“Um, no. Tonight’s the first time I’ve turned on a television set since we got here. I watched a rerun of Friends. Did you ever see the episode where Jen—”

Josh yells, “Sorry, I’ll be right there. Er Cookie? I don’t mean to cut you off but I’m on my way out the door. Karren Longfellow and I are going to catch a movie at the All Night Cinema.”

“Oh. Okay. Sounds like fun,” I say, wishing I was there going to the movies with him. The wind shifts and I swipe a loose lock of hair from my face. Karren Longfellow and Josh are going out? She's a little old for him I think fighting off a twinge of jealousy. No...On second thought, I’ll be back in D.C. soon enough. I want to go surfing again tomorrow.

“With everything going on, there’s no way I can sleep. Sorry Cookie, can you hang on a second?”

“Um, sure.” Something bites me on the foot and jump up. I scratch my foot, and then lean over the cold metal railing around our balcony and look around the hotel grounds. I observe a woman out on the strip of grass behind the hotel pulling a little white ball of fur by a leash. She says, “Hurry up Trixie!” The dog wants to sniff every few inches. “Just go already!” Trixie sniffs a few more spots then squats delicately and does a dump right in front of me. Trixie’s owner uses a plastic bag to pick up the deposit. I turn my back in disgust then recall seeing a sign that said, “If Your Dog Poops Please Scoop” or something to that effect.

“Sorry, you there? Josh says sounding rushed.

“I’m here,” I mumble, disappointed that Josh has to go so quickly. Trixie’s owner carries her across the way and enters the room below ours, slamming their door hard enough to make me jump and yelp. In reality, all I can think about is Josh and Karren sitting in a dark theatre. Why am I spazing over a movie?

“Cookie?” I hear other people talking in the room with him and wonder where he is.

“Where are you?”

“Home. Sorry, it’s crazy over here.” Josh sounds really syked. “My mom was having a fund-raiser for the church. It’s turned into a prayer session for your mom’s safe return.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll understand when I finish telling you what’s happening. It’s breaking news on every channel.”

“Okay. So, fill me in.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t see it––hold on…I need to find a quiet place.”

“See what?” I shout. Exasperated, I stomp my foot then cringe hoping I didn’t make too much noise. I sit down, peering over my shoulder at Pop. He’s sleeping like a baby. I prop my feet on the railing, press my cell phone into my ear, and whisper, “Josh, just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to! Uh, I’m in the hall closet and there’s no room.”

“Why are you in the closet?”

“It’s the only place to get away from all of these people in our house.  Listen, somebody leaked to the media that Ivan and his task force were in Schladming. They’re reporting that confidential informants came forward with information about Mrs. B’s so called mysterious departure. These unnamed informants said they overheard a man in a café say that she’s alive and being held for treason. Now every news station is reporting this and Ivan is pissed!”

I’ve never heard Josh say pissed. I whisper, “She’s alive?”

“That what they’re reporting. Apparently, Ivan located several townspeople who apparently knew things but were afraid for their lives if they spoke out to the police. They probably owe back taxes or have criminal pasts. They said Ivan assured them immunity and convinced them to come forward using his special tactics.” Josh laughs. “He roughed them up. And––like I said—it’s all over the news. They’re just not saying where she is being held and how they plan to rescue her. So, we’re all here sitting on the edge of their seats waiting to hear more and praying for her safe return.”

I glance over my shoulder at Pop wondering if I should wake him and tell him. I slap at my calves. Something is seriously chewing on my body. I put my feet on the ground and sit forward. “So will we hear from Ivan soon?”

“Uh, probably not. He’s pretty busy.”

“But I thought he was here in Cocoa Beach.”

“He might be. This is huge news Cookie. During the six o’clock news tonight President Yeltsin even held a special live press conference. He was on every station redacting what was said years ago, that he wasn’t aware that there weren’t any America or foreign prisoners being held in Russia. The whole world listened to him say admit he misspoke. More like a bold face lie. When the president of Russia admits to the world that he totally stepped in it the implications send almost every country into a tailspin wondering if their citizens are imprisoned.”

“Whoa. How soon will they have Mom back here?”

“Good question. President Parks is putting together a team to travel to Russia to negotiate with their government for the release any Americans being held. They’re fairly sure Agent Werthoust is responsible. Dad thinks Ivan might be planning to travel there tomorrow with the Head of State Department people. These sort of things take time; Dad said it’s a delicate situation. If your mom is alive and being held hostage, what’s the ransom and are we willing to bow down to the Russian. Thing is, politically, neither country wants to admit that your Mom’s case is stirring up a lot of old diplomatic wounds that could put United States and Russia at odds.”

“Right,” I mutter, trying to wrap my brain around all this.

“Whew, man, I have to get out of this closet and find Karren. She’s probably wondering where I am.” Josh is talking to someone.

I swat all over my body. It feels like something is biting me all over my legs and arm. Jeez, what are these bugs out here eating me alive?

“Karren just said Ivan called here and simply said he’s enroot and couldn’t say to where. She’s going to drive while I talk to you.” I hear car doors slamming shut and Josh rusting with his seatbelt. “Man, Ivan has to be cooking up some covert operation to find Mrs. B in Russia.”

I find my voice and say, “Um, wow…really? So, Karren knows?”

“Yes. We don’t have to worry who we talk to about this anymore. Hey, Cookie, are you sitting down?”

“Why?”

Josh says, “Um, well, they exhumed the body and identified it as an Austrian homeless woman. Er, that got leaked too. I figured you guys would want to know ASAP.”

“It’s all over the freaking news?” I gasp and I look through the glass at Pop again.

“Yeah. The Washington Post broke the story after one of their reporters saw the backhoes at Oak Hill Cemetery. Oh, and the New York Times is thrilled to be the first to use the Cookie Cutter handle in their reports.”

“What do you mean?”

“Check out the online newspapers, they’re all using Operation Cookie Cutter in all their headlines and stories. By the time we get back to school, we’ll be famous. The media circus is already circling their wagons.”

I tuck the phone in the crook of my neck. “This is unbelievable…” I say digging at my ankles with my fingernails hoping I don’t draw blood.

“I know,” Josh says breathlessly. “We’re at the theatre.” Again, I hear car doors slamming. “Hey, you should ask your bodyguards for protection from the press at the airport. Just a thought.” He shouts, “Watch out! Sorry, a car started backing out of a parking space and almost ran over us. I better go.”

I nod my head and pace the short balcony, hoping to ward of the army of whatever is masticating my flesh. “I know…wait! Josh…Josh what can we, I do?”

“Nothing except sit tight and stay out of sight…Man, I’m sorry, but I really need to go. Listen don’t worry about anything. Enjoy your last day on the beach. You’ll be home by tomorrow night. Bye Cookie, be safe my friend.”

Josh clicks off before I can say anything else.

Needless to say, I don’t sleep much. The itching is maddening and my thoughts run wild with images of Mom in that cage. We’re coming Mom!