Two-Part Harmony

105.

Under normal circumstances, the perfectly idoneous oxymoron for our vocation, we would initiate a tail. But as we listen to Big prep for his business meeting, it becomes quickly apparent that he will have accompaniment. He has, in an interestingly odd manner, gently rapped on Her Majesty’s bedroom door to announce that they will be leaving in exactly one hour. Her response of “Where are we going?’ — she knows, even rudely awakened from sleep, that we are listening — is answered by a cryptic, ‘You’ll soon see, please hurry.’

I dispense with the formalities and rally the troops. Drysdale and I will shadow Big and The Queen leaving the local analyst behind to continue monitoring Muscles and Cyrus. I share this info with TOM and Davis, still on standby on Colorado. At this moment we have no idea of what or where the noon meeting will take place, bit my hunch is that it will be the Queen’s temporary new assignment, and by proxy, headquarters of The Axis. After running full speed towards the edge of the cliff, we stop on a dime and stare into the abyss. 

TOM has also shared a bit of intel. It now appears that the heavy chatter points towards Tucson and Portland, Oregon as high-probability target locations. I scratch my chin, hoping that the three-days growth might provide a magical clue to the geographical connection of dots riddle. The drill ends almost before it starts as I learned long ago that tossing darts at The Mercator Projection seldom yields actionable intel. Still the question persists; What commonalities are shared by both a high-desert Spanish settlement and a northwest coastal urban metropolis? 

Drysdale and I prep for the road trip, carefully packing the computer and assorted surveillance devices into one Pelican case and our personal and professional gear into one backpack each. 

I finish first and head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Drysdale joins me and deals two sliced bagels to the toaster. As breakfast is heated I go back to the war-room and look into the computer screen where the room is still dark but the audio signal alive with the sounds of movement; drawers opening and closing, water flowing, and the echoed mimicry of the process we have just orchestrated; small kitchen appliances merrily at work. 

I stand and watch the dark screen come to the light of life with unhurried leisure. The Queen of Hearts is now sitting on the couch with her oversized purse, she is traveling light, on the think glass coffee table in front of her. She is joined by Big and moments later by Muscles who carries a tray of coffee, orange juice and raisin English muffins. 

In a perfectly syncopated time-space, alternative-parallel reality, Drysdale enters our war-room and puts a mug of steaming joe in front of me, along with a plate of bagels lathered with peanut butter and honey. I mutter a muted ‘thanks.’

As The Queen of Hearts does likewise in what most observers might call two-part harmony.