Olympus Device 1: The Olympus Device (19 page)

The sticky
bugs weren’t the only technology keeping an eye on Dusty’s ex-wife. With a mere tap on the screen, the agent could turn on the microphone of any smart phone inside the residence, listening and recording conversations without the phone’s owner having the slightest hint. This particular suspect kept her cell phone inside her purse, he noted. Despite the high-end model, he couldn’t hear anything but muffled tones through that channel.

The webcam of any
laptop computer could be switched on remotely as well. He’d briefly enjoyed the view of Maria checking her email this morning, her sheer nightgown enhancing the experience. He had already browsed her messages before she had even switched on the coffeepot and knew she didn’t have anything worthy of scrutiny. Now, that window into her world provided nothing via that channel but a darkened view of Maria’s office, a high-back desk chair and bookshelf filling the screen.

The images generated by any home security system
could be hijacked and stored on the FBI’s computers as well. Despite its size and affluence, the owner of this home hadn’t installed a video system. While the agent could also easily tap into baby monitors, there were no infants at the residence.

Even the bureau
’s vehicle was radically advanced compared to the heavy, obvious vans of just a few years ago. The FBI realized bad guys weren’t completely stupid, often searching a neighborhood’s streets before conducting their nefarious activities.

The sedan was equipped with
what the tech called “curtains,” or thin vinyl window coverings that were printed with an image that mimicked the interior of the car – an empty, harmless car that couldn’t possibly contain law enforcement personnel or equipment. The agent could see out just fine, but anyone driving or walking past his unit would notice an empty, non-descript Ford. Even the extra antenna, required by the high-powered transceiver in the trunk, was embedded in the glass of the rear window, disguised as a defroster.

This stakeout had its issues, unique little quirks that degraded what could be ascertain
ed. The placement of the sticky bugs had been imperfect, the scouts believing the primary social areas of Maria’s home would be the den or formal living room. This evening’s gathering had proven the kitchen was the hot spot, and they didn’t have video focused there – a situation that would require another two bugs being deployed to different windows of the residence.

The video wasn’t the only issue. One sticky
bug, at the rear of the home, wasn’t transmitting properly due to interference from the pool pump. The agent snorted at the thought, wondering if he shouldn’t give the owner a heads up that her pump was about to go bad.

Not my problem
, he decided, and returned his attention to the conversation in Maria’s kitchen, which unfortunately for the bored agent, had progressed to the latest gossip from Fort Davis, Texas.

The rain actually cheered Maria, the cooler weather providing both a wardrobe opportunity and a fair chance at visiting Dusty unobserved.

Following her normal morning routine, the first order of business, after coffee and email, was to check in with Paula. Normally, the two co-workers would exchange a brief phone call or text message, but today Maria called her assistant via Skype and used the video option, all but sure the FBI would be listening.

Somewhat surprised, Paula answered, her image appearing on Maria’s display.

“Well good morning, boss. Why are you using Skype?”

“I don’t know,” Maria lied. “I’ve been fooling with this for a while and wanted to test my skills.”

“Ahhhh… well, no messages this morning. I think it’s going to be a slow day with the weather.”

“Okay… I’ll be in shortly. Bye.”

After disconnecting the call, Maria sat back in her chair and sighed. Paula was wearing a dark blue blouse and white khaki slacks. She had a very similar outfit in her closet.

Paula was a strawberry blonde
, Maria raven haired with a longer cut. A hat was the answer, and Maria had plenty of those.

Forty-five minutes later, Maria backed her car from the garage, making a point to stop at the end of the
driveway. Sporting a fire red umbrella, she pretended to check her tires, walking around and kicking all four as if the vehicle were handling funny.

After faking the imaginary flat, she proceeded to the office as normal, a slight tingly feeling surging through her body at the excitement of her secret mission. She spent the time in traffic recalling every spy novel she’d ever read.

Paula, as usual, had also run from the parking lot to the office under the protection of a blue bumbershoot. Maria smiled as she shook the raindrops from her canopy and placed it beside Paula’s at the door. Her grin widened when she saw her assistant’s jacket was made from the same navy linen as her own.

“I see you go
t the memo on the dress code today,” Paula observed, nodding at her boss’s outfit.

Maria cringed at the comment,
hoping the cops didn’t have the office bugged. She responded with a smile and spread arms, the gesture meant to say, “Oh, well, what can you do.”

An hour passed, the real estate office slower than usual, just as Paula had predicted. Taking a deep breath, Maria initiated her plan.

Her first step was to borrow Paula’s car, but how to ask using a method that wouldn’t be recognized by the cops? She decided on a trip to the ladies room, and after fiddling around for the appropriate amount of time, reached up and unscrewed two of the light bulbs above the vanity.

“Paula, could you come here for a second
?” she called.

Frowning, her assistant rolled back her chair and walked back to the private facility. As soon as Paula was inside the small space, Maria reached down and flushed the head, acting as if she’d forgotten to do so. With the sound of the running water in the background, the boss asked, “Do we have any spare bulbs? These keep burning out all the time.”

“No, I used the last one in the supply closet two weeks ago. Do you want me to run and get some?”

“Naw, I’ve got to run a few errands anyway.
I want to pick up some extra groceries for my houseguests. Can I borrow your car? I think mine has a low tire, and your SUV holds more than my Mercedes.”

“Sure, you know I love driving your car anyway.”

The toilet stopped running at the same time as the conversation ended. Maria hoped it was enough. After all, radios and running water always defeated bugs in the spy novels.

Maria pretended to be busy until the phone rang. Knowing Paula would be on this call for a while,
Maria went to the reception area and dropped her keys on the busy girl’s desk. Flashing a thumbs up, the assistant dug in her purse and produced her own key ring.

Maria pulled a hat from her jacket pocket, a plain
skullcap that she’d worn once for a Halloween costume. Grabbing Paula’s blue umbrella, she opened the unit and dashed for the parking lot.

Unlocking the SUV, she was proud of how little she’d exposed of her face while entering the driver’s seat, and was pulling out of the lot a few moments later.

Leaving her cell and purse back at the office, Maria had nothing more than her billfold stuffed inside one of the jacket’s pockets. Again, thankful for the weather, she began to drive around north Houston, trying desperately to see if anyone were following her.

Twenty minutes later and having seen no clues of pursuit, she pulled into a grocery store and hurried through the aisles buying basic foodstuffs for her injured ex-husband. She paid cash, not wanting any records
showing on her normally well-used debit card.

The home where she had Dusty tucked away was at the end of a single
-street, gated subdivision. The neighborhood was very affluent, homeowners using massive 4 and 5-car garages fronted with estate-style driveways. It was rare to see any car on the street, and today Maria was relieved to see empty curbs all the way back to the hideout.

She found Dusty asleep, the beaker of orange juice empty.

“Wakie, Wakie, eggs and bakie,” she said softly.

“I don’t smell any bacon,” he mumbled back.

The covers rustled, his head appearing from under a fold, one eye open. “What day is it?”

“You’ve been here
a little less than 48 hours. I bet you’re hungry.”

Yawning, he had to agree.
“You’re right, I’m starving.”

Maria moved her hands to her hips, jutting out her jaw. “Of course I’m right. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that I’m always right. Has it been that long?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he pretended, sarcasm thick in his tone.

Maria laughed, happy with her false victory.
“Let’s get your lazy ass out of bed, cowboy. While you take a shower, I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Nodding, Dusty pulled bac
k the covers and managed to perch on the edge of the mattress with only one moan and two grimaces. After helping him stand, Maria unwrapped the first layer of bandages, anxious to see the results of her doctoring.

The wound looked healthy and pink, four butterfly bandages holding the folds of skin together. “I didn’t think you wanted
my taking you to the emergency room for staples, so I used these bandages. Do you remember using them the time Anthony fell off those rocks? We were on vacation, and there wasn’t a hospital for 80 miles? That guy that helped us… the army medic… he showed me how to do this.”

“I remember that guy,” Dusty said, “That was a nasty cut on the boy’s leg.
As I recall, the Good Samaritan was hiking and heard Anthony crying.”

Maria laughed at the memory
. “I was so scared. I’ll never forget how calm and cool you were. I was losing my mind thinking our son was going to bleed to death.”

Dusty examined his torso and said, “The cut is mostly scabbed over. I don’t think it will hurt to get it wet. A shower sounds good about now.”

“It might sting a little, but I think you’re safe. I’ll coat it in antibiotic crème after, like I did the other night. You’ve lost a ton of blood, so it’s probably going to be a few days before you’re back up and about.”

Dusty frowned, something troubling him. “Maria, are you sure you’re not going to get in trouble by helping me?”

Guiding her ex to the bathroom, she recounted a quick summary of the last few days. Dusty didn’t comment, just listening with his normal intensity. After she was sure he wasn’t going to collapse or fall while bathing, she made for the kitchen to deliver on the promised home cooked meal.

“Damn he looks good,” she mumbled on the way. “How do men do that? I spend
two hours a day in the gym and still don’t like how I look naked. He looks better than he did when we were 25 years old.”

Shaking her head, she
set about scrambling four eggs and frying a pound of bacon.

A short time later,
he appeared wrapped in a towel. Maria sat watching him wolf down the meal, which he washed down with an entire quart of orange juice. “You need to keep growing the beard, it looks good on you.”

Dusty smirked, “I was going to shave, but there isn’t a razor. I forgot mine when I left my hotel in a hurry.”

“So, are you feeling strong enough for some bad news?”

Wiping his face with the napkin, he nodded.

Maria took the folded newspaper and placed it in front of him, watching his reaction carefully.

He quickly scanned the article titled “God’s Gun” the first time, raising his eyebrows once and grunting twice. He read
it carefully the second time, never making a sound.

“This reporter got it mostl
y right,” he commented calmly, the reaction taking Maria completely by surprise.

“
He got it mostly right?
Is that what you just said?” She replied with a raised voice. “What the hell is going on Durham Anthony Weathers? Since when do you go around shooting down airplanes and blowing up public utility towers?”

Looking at her with a deadpan expression, he responded. “You’re the one who said Fort Davis was too boring, my dear. It was you who had to leave or, how did you put it, you’d go insane from the riot of quiet. I decided you were right. I thought I’d spice up my life a little… step o
ver to the wild side.”

“Bullshit! Now tell me what really happened.”

Pointing to the paper, he replied, “Like I said, he got it mostly right.”

“How did you create this super… crazy… thing? Where did it come from?”

Dusty began filling in the blanks, telling Maria everything.

After he finished, she commented
, “So that’s why they arrested Hank.”

“What? Who arrest
ed Hank?”

“The FBI and ATF from what I hear. Eva and Grace are staying at my place, waiting on Hank’s hearing tomorrow at the courthouse.”

“Grace? Grace is in Houston?”

A sly smile crossed Maria’s face, her expression relaying joy over Dusty having exposed his feelings. “So you
do
have a thing for her? I was beginning to wonder if you had turned gay or something. She’s a good looking woman.”

“Maria!”

“Well… I never hear of you dating anybody. It’s good to know you’re still interested in women, Dusty. I don’t want to walk through life thinking I neutered the Bull of Jeff Davis County.”

“Maria! Now hold on just a minut
e,” he managed, but she was on a roll.

“Now Dusty, I know
that there are lots of gay cowboys. They even have their own movie. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should….”

He moved with the speed of a pouncing lion, lifting her effortlessly. Before she could inhale, she was on the couch, his face an inch
above hers – their lips almost touching. His bare chest pressed into her breasts, firm and powerful, she could feel the strength of his muscles flexing beneath warm skin.

With
out her eyes ever leaving his, she put on a halfhearted struggle, only managing to spread her legs. His weight shifted, now pressing down on the inside of her thighs. His towel had fallen away, and she could feel his heat. Her own body took over, reacting with a will of its own… an animal without conscience or control. Right or wrong didn’t matter. Old or new had no meaning. She could feel the need building. Moist hotness began spreading through her, desire about to lose control.

Her arms were pinned against the sofa, his powerful embrace like two bands of steel enveloping her soul… holding her tight… pulling her
closer. She knew if she didn’t stop this soon, he’d reach a point of no return, taking her for his pleasure, using her body to satisfy his needs.

It’s not right
, her mind protested.
Don’t succumb to the lust,
she thought.
You’re only going to open old wounds
, she reasoned.
Stop him now
.

“Dusty, stop. You’ve proven your point – I don’t think you’re gay,” she offered, hoping to give him an out.

For a moment, she thought she had waited too long. He didn’t move, or smile… his eyes never left hers. Part of her wanted it to be so, ached for him to use her for whatever he wanted. She considered a struggle, to break the trance, but she knew it would be fruitless. She was only a butterfly, gentle elegance and delicate beauty. He was the oak tree, solid, stout and unyielding. He probably wouldn’t even notice any protest on her part.

He blinked once… twice
… and then averted his gaze. The spell had been broken. Exhaling, he pushed off of her, quickly bending for the towel and covering himself.

“I’m so sorry, Dusty,” Maria offered, her tone sincere. “I shouldn’t have teased you about Grace. I actually like her.
You’re a good man Durham Anthony Weathers, you deserve someone like her.”    

Despite the dark tan and complexion of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors, the flush on Dusty’s cheeks was obvious. “She’s a good friend and excellent lawyer, Maria. It’s not gone any further than that – yet.”