“Taxi!” shouted Senator Charles Baker for the first time in many years. Agent Clark did what she did best. She watched and surveyed everything and every person in sight. So far, it seemed they had evaded whatever the hell was going on. Although it did seem apparent that the Senator’s life was in danger, it was not from Yuri Andriev. Travis, it appeared from the indignation in his face, was on their side but the Senator had been clear he trusted nobody but Clark and even then, Clark didn’t fully believe him.
As the taxi stopped at their side, Clark gave the driver a once over before allowing the Senator to enter the vehicle.
“OK, where to?” she asked turning to Baker.
“BWI, train station,” announced Baker. As the driver pulled away, he smiled. Baltimore Washington International train station was a thirty mile run and outside the city limits. That would be a hefty bill and from the passengers’ attire, he knew they were good for it.
“What the hell for?”
“Sam has a plan. Actually, Sam has a plan for everything. Anyway, if he gave me a warning or if ever I were in danger, he planned a route for me. In fact, sorry, do you have a cell phone?”
Clark reached into her pocket and handed Baker her phone. Without so much as a thank you, Baker flicked the cell through the open window of the cab, quickly followed by his own.
Clark could only turn and watch as her cell, with five years of stored numbers, disintegrated under the tires of the car behind. It wasn’t the loss of the phone that upset her, it was forgetting to back up the memory of all her contacts that was really pissing her off.
“Anything else they could use to track us?” asked Baker, ignoring Clark’s look of horror over the loss of her phone.
“Not sure if they can track my radio communicator,” she answered realizing she had to get back to the job in hand.
“Well, now is not the time to risk it, Get it off and out the window please.”
As Clark disposed of her radio communicator, Baker sat back and tried to remember all the steps Sam had talked him through many years earlier. It had all seemed like nonsense at the time but Sam had made Charles repeat every step twice as he had talked him through his escape route. He had argued how ridiculous it was. He was a Senior Senator and was going to be Head of the Defense Committee, not the President. Sam had cautioned that it was for exactly that reason that he was talking him through the plan. He had emphasized more than once that Charles had no idea what he was getting himself into by accepting the Chairmanship. He was going to be playing with people whose life was war and where contracts were measured in billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of jobs. These were not people you wanted to upset and as Chairman for the United States Senate Subcommittee for Defense Appropriations, you were going to upset a few people, no matter what you did. Sam needed to disappear for a while but only if Charles would take him seriously. They had argued long and hard over Sam’s decision to retire. Charles wanted him to come to Washington and talk about the explosion but Sam had had enough. Also, if Charles was going to be Chairman, he had to go. Sam had been called before the committee on a number of occasions and felt any future appearance could do nothing but embarrass his brother.
With the decision made, Charles had repeated the plan twice. Once Sam was happy he had taken it on board, he had left. That had been over three years earlier and Charles had not spoken to, nor seen him since. But the plan, just as Sam had intended, had remained with Charles ever since. Don’t use Union Station, it’s too obvious, use BWI, it’s big, busy and they’d never expect it. If you went there, they’d watch the airport, not the train station. Dump any cell phone or communication device. Don’t use any credit cards, use cash only. Always have $500 cash on you at all times. This is your emergency fund and don’t, for God’s sake, have five $100 bills. People remember big bills, have a mixture. Once you’re at BWI rail station, buy a ticket to New York City. You’re not going all the way but if anyone does remember your purchase, it will be a ticket to New York and whatever you do, buy a coach seat. Get off at Newark Airport and go straight to the Howard Johnson at the Airport and check in under the name Tim Wilkinson. If I’ve contacted you, I’ll meet you there. If not, and you need me, call 555-1349-911 the first chance you get from a public phone booth. I’'s an answering service. Just say ‘sorry, wrong number’ and hang up and I will get to Newark asap.
Although it had been three years since their conversation, Charles had not forgotten even the slightest detail. If Sam said jump, despite being the older and more stately brother, Charles would have asked how high. Sam never did anything without reason.
As the taxi driver unashamedly asked for $94 dollars, Clark climbed out and surveyed the area. All was clear and Baker grudgingly settled up with a small tip, another of Sam’s points, don’t not tip and don’t over tip, people remember both. $100 dollars lighter, he exited the cab and walked into the terminal. One concern remained. The woman sworn to defend his life was not featured in Sam’s plan. Charles took an executive decision. She stayed.
“OK, we need to get a couple of tickets to NYC. Probably best you buy them,” suggested Baker, handing over a pile of twenties.
Clark walked towards the ticket counter. “Oh and better get coach!” he added with a smile. It had been a very long time since Senator Charles Baker had travelled Coach.