Finne hung up the telephone on the fax machine’s cradle while considering everything he had said out loud. Though he feared no threat from Sarah or her intelligence, he knew the reality she understood at this moment was purely fabricated – both by him in his lies and by the strength of authority demonstrated by the man whom had saved his life and initiated the life or death chase he was facing.
“Go Dark!” rang threw his thoughts. Jack’s words were as instructive and intimidating now in his head as they were when commanded earlier in person. He knew he had followed all protocols he had ever been taught to disappear when needed. In hindsight, he re realized quickly that he should have continued moving and not crashed the past few hours on the Chicken Ranch allowing whatever was chasing him to catch up. He was infuriated with himself for believing he had secured days or even hours outside the reach of the massive forces he knew were deployed to find him… and kill him – according to Jack.
If they found the Starbird - or for that matter, the Stargirl - based on knowledge that he and Sarah had set sail together from Dangerfield Island after escaping assassination, they were done. He feared Tom faced the same fate as he, and it was solely due to Finne bringing it upon him.
The escape he created during the 20 minutes Jack promised him to be off-line leaving the carnage on Georgetown Pike was executed almost as quickly as he thought it out in his head. Exploiting the promised blindness of the nations TAO – Terrestrial, Arial, and Orbital - reconnaissance infrastructure, Finne had left behind a trail he thought would have thrown his pursuers far away from here. Having weaved through two-lane traffic with reckless disregard and excessive speed, he had distanced himself from the trauma in Great Falls by twenty miles – all the way to Reagan National Airport in Arlington – in 14 minutes, easily ten minutes faster than he had ever accomplished before with the best of traffic possible. Any conservative – or sane – driver would not be able to traverse the same route as he had in less then thirty minutes.
Prior to entering the security zone he knew to be surrounding the airport closest to the Nation’s Capital and the leadership of the U.S. Government, Jack had pulled over to the side of the GW parkway in a known blind spot between the Pentagon and the LBJ memorial and dropped Sarah off with explicit instructions as to where she needed to go, and where they would reunite. Fortunately, Sarah followed the instructions exactly bringing her to his brother’s marina nearly the same minute that Finne was ready to cast off. After leaving Sarah, Finne had driven straight into the airport’s security circumference and onto the property parking his vehicle in the hourly lot in the first space he found available – all within the final minutes he trusted to be out of sight. He knew that his license plate would trigger several systems feeding directly into the IC infrastructure and would be found eventually. Finne had gambled that the window of time he had during the blackout was exact in duration and therefore had allowed him to escape from land to the eastern seaboard waterways before eyes could be opened to his proximity. If true, his license plate could not be read on entry due to the blackout he trusted Jack to have created. He planned that the car would be invisible for at least a day until airport security would next be scheduled to drive the lot’s rows scanning each vehicle’s plate and querying reach’s identifying sequence of alphanumeric characters against all known threat databases.
If he were spotted on entry, he deliberated internally, he would never have made it through the terminal and been able to purchase an international flight with the credentials he knew would be attributed to him as one of his live cover identities. He recalled memories of his path into, through, and out of Reagan’s main terminal. He had gone unnoticed, he was sure of it. The ticket to San Diego should have diverted attention to the west coast, at least for a short time. He had seen no indication that he had been recognized while purchasing the never-to-be-used ticket, nor was being watched by anyone afterwards as he walked through the crowded airport using every bit of his extensive training in disguised behavior. Finne was sure he had professionally avoided all security personnel and equipment within the fortified facility and departed by taxi without anyone’s notice or concern. He was sure that his exit from the airport property was within the time promised to be off-line. Finne believed that traveling south to Old Town then doubling back to the marina via a second taxicab should have shaken any attention. Obviously, his trail of clues was not deep enough or his time blind was not as long as he had been told, given the fact that the Starbird had been found already.
Finne looked across the room at Sarah in deep consideration of the words he should choose to control her thoughts and emotions with his next imploration for her to follow. He needed to express the extreme nature of the situation while minimally divulging any information she had no reason to know, at least not yet.
Sarah lay awkwardly across the leather sofa diagonally adjacent to Finne with her legs callously stretched across a wooden cube-like piece of furniture that Finne deduced she likely believed to be an ottoman. Why she thought that it was intended for resting feet, given the elaborate design and obviously hand-tooled, master-artistry displayed on each of its five visible surfaces, escaped Finne. He recognized the piece to be a beautifully preserved, and likely centuries-old, Chinese game table used to play ‘Go.’ The grid carved into the table’s top was much larger than required for checkers or chess - a fact that Finne had determined upon first glance. The brilliantly polished black and white game stones also gave clue to its differentiation from other more popular grid-fashioned games. I hope her heals didn’t scratch it, Finne worried.
“Sarah,” Finne exclaimed with a tone of urgency intended to initiate her sense of fear as she awoke. “We need to leave. Now! Gather everything you brought here and follow me.”
Sarah was dazed from the sudden jolt from her sleep. She was about to object to Finne’s demanding instructions but didn’t. Her transition from dream to reality had been accelerated due to Finne’s commanding voice and the urgency she interpreted within it.
“OK. I have everything. Let’s go.” Sarah replied obediently.
Finne was relieved she was not obstructing him now in this critical moment.
From the creek’s entrance, Finne heard the unmistakable sound of an outboard motor approaching by water. Looking out the bayside window, he saw an approaching skiff. It could just be an oysterman, he thought. However, given his dire situation, Finne could not risk being wrong. He grabbed his laptop, utility case, and his sidearm from the floor next to where he had nodded off on the couch. Grasping Sarah’s elbow with his free hand, he quickly pulled her towards the stairwell and exit.
They needed to get to the garage unnoticed, so they were going to have to sprint. As they left the boathouse door, Finne’s pace accelerated utilizing every bit of adrenaline pumping through his body from the fight or flee moment he was living. Flee fast, he thought. Sarah kept pace with him. Mostly because Finne refused to let go his vice-like grip of her left arm. She didn’t complain. She just ran hard in the direction Finne was pulling. At the end of the dock, they continued hurriedly up the manicured lawn in a beeline towards the garage. Finne looked over his shoulder and confirmed that the boathouse remained in direct line between he and Sarah and the approaching vessel’s sight line. 200 more yards is all he needed to traverse without being seen. Finne increased his pace with Sarah in tow.
