140 Mile Stretch,  Serials

140 Mile Stretch: A Non Kidnapping

“Why?”  Cameron asked.  “Why does he have to take us out before he acts?”  Tom lowered his voice.  “For that you can thank my Grandfather.  He wasn’t a trained scientist, but he was brilliant.  I knew that he had hidden something in time.  I just didn’t know when, where, or what it was.  I still don’t know what, but now I know when, and I have a suspension of where.”

Cameron thought a moment.  “Mr. Secretary, you’ve kept things very close to your vest.  I think it’s the only reason that we’re alive at this point.  You need to continue to keep it close.  We cannot know much more than Minnix knows.  At the same time, you have to have a way of communicating just enough to position us.  My question is this, how do we safely do that.  I’m not sure that you should trust anyone, including myself.”

Tom agreed.  “Don’t worry, I don’t.  Nothing personal, but I only met you recently.  Plus, Minnix has actors employed, they could replace any of you with very short notice.  Fortunately I have my own operative, someone that no one knows about, someone that Minnix won’t figure out until it’s too late.”

“Good, I suspected as much.  I would do the same thing.  Here is what I recommend doing.  Tell everyone that you have an operative, of course without telling them anything else.  Word will get to Minnix, it will confirm his guess, plus it will make him more nervous. Tell me this, what can you share with me?”

Tom handed him an envelope.  “This is what is safe for you to know.  It also contains the coordinates for you to head to 1918.  I have a mission for you, it’s vital, but it’s not connected with the last phase.  Here’s my question, can you make it look live you’ve been kidnapped?” “A Non Kidnapping is easy, for the most part.”

Three hours later each of the team received a note to come to Cameron’s room. Tom wasn’t surprised at what he saw next.  Tom and the others found the door opened and the room trashed.  Tom wondered where Cameron got the blood that was on the bed.  Then he realized that he didn’t want to know.  He gauged the other reactions to the farce, and was only suspicious of Virginia.  This wasn’t a stretch, he had been since they met.

While this was occurring, a young man with a bandaged right arm was getting into a taxi.  “Where to Mister?”  “The White House, and step on it.”  The next sound the cab driver and the passenger heard was the gun shot that came through the side window.

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