She traces, lightly finger pad down Dewey
Decimal System 500-599: Natural Science division & collects,
heavily books on spelunking. Her results are four thickly heavy
bounded manuals representing school textbooks. She drops, nosily
into backpack then marches over three aisles to 900-999: History,
Geography & Biography section. Her find gathers nine thin
finely bounded books on Alabama history, topography and
geography.
Pamela locates, secretively cubby desk in
rear of children’s section. Loud and obnoxious kids are good tidy
cover for her studying cave materials.
She hasn’t forgotten this morning she
personally robbed another library of missing laptop. It can’t be
traced to her, maybe finger prints if Geneva finds it. But,
librarians and FBI guards are searching for her pretty face,
everywhere since air flights to both France and England were
staged. She giggles, lightly.
She isn’t worried about Southside librarian
or food clerk at Burn U Breakfast Bar identifying her scruffy
disguise. They barely give her sweet Southern smile along with
wordless “thank you.” Southern hospitality is definitely dead in
Birmingham Metro.
There ain’t video recording cameras inside
the library or eatery. Pamela is cleared.
She drags, painfully heavy books from
backpack, stacks, vertically onto desk while reading each title,
quickly. She’s running out of time after viewing the wall clock in
the hallway: 3:04 pm.
She stops, suddenly. Book in hand displays
“Alabama Cave & Caving.” She flips, swiftly to first page
detailing contents of caving concepts, definitions, terms,
techniques and maps. She flips to rear & examines small maps of
caves around the country side of Alabama. This is the book she
needs with 58 pages in length. She has plenty of quarters for
library copying machine but not enough time. Secondly, someone
would get really curious spitting heavy volume of paper when she
can check book from reference materials using library card.
She decides, executively to steal the book.
Information is priceless for her research with her limited
resources to restore her honor and her innocence.
She cramps, swiftly books into backpack &
swings over shoulder blades carting back to book shelf. She plans,
deceptively to rip cover from manual which contains electronic
senses for detecting air wave signal through the metal machines
just like airport equipment.
She trots, slowly back to vending machine,
drops, swiftly many quarters accessing dinner for tonight slipping
carefully lots of cold and dry items into sides of backpack. She
shuffles, casually into girls’ bathroom inside stall. She pulls,
nosily book, examines cover. She sees sensor build into cloth
binding. Good!
Using sharp finger nails and strong finger
pads, she rips, delicately cover from clean manual trying her best
to keep outer cover in semi-tactful state without looking like she
mutated the fabric, purposefully.
She strolls, casually through teen aisle
& lifts, calmly three books while fitting shell around one. She
moves, sideways & brows other shelves worming back to Reference
Books. She places, carefully shredded shell holding single teen
fantasy novel between thin Topography books. She back steps,
gingerly admiring her handiwork. Good!
She pivots, swiftly toward exit. Hoover
provides for security purposes same entrance and exit point, four
sets of sliding glass doors facing North. Pamela must walk though
doors then freedom planning to sleep in rented studio room in
dangerous downtown Birmingham for the night.
She pauses, dramatically then trots into new
book section with beating hyper speed heart pulse recognizing
police officers stationed at exit point scouting crowds of studious
readers very much for her.
She grabs, roughly new book & flips,
absently pages while ponders, intellectually.
No one knows her disguise of old baggie and
colorful clothes from Burn U Swap Shop instead of her sweet pink
outfit. She has planned her bread crumbs in opposite direction
toward airport away from campus for that purpose.
Preston and FBI are at the
airport…correction. Preston was at the airport. Time is 3:00pm.
Travel flight has left at 2:00pm without Pamela. Preston realizes
it was a mental game and he’s probably madder than the hatter at
this moment.
Preston has described and presented pics of
her work image to all FBI and police law enforcement
agents/officers. They’re looking for pretty girl in pink sleeveless
top with matching pink skirt, stomping pink high heels, rattling
cheap pretty beaded bracelets on her left arm.
Therefore, she can strut out exit door of
library without notice or alert of stolen library book inside
backpack. She thinks, intellectually & prays, swiftly.
She replaces, slowly book on shelf &
turns, more slowly toward open lobby. She walks, steady &
sweats, profusely on face and palms guiding toward glass doors on
extreme right of room far away from police officers lining the
wall.
She walks, steady with laughing, whispering
and talking children, adults and young students. She hits, quickly
archway where electronic sensors. She closes, purposefully eyelids
for immediately reaction. She glides, smoothly onto concrete
walkway beside nosily two kids with mother.
She walks, forwardly into sunlight &
crosses busy street into small strip mall hunting Public Telephone
for taxi cab. She inhales, quickly then coughs, loudly forgetting
to breathe.
She blinks eyelids open then shut guarding
her surroundings of varied retail shops, Dollar Shop, Mac’s Book
Store, Paula’s Clothes, Ralph’s Shoes as she walks down sidewalk
searching for Public Telephone. She enters, quickly clothing store
requiring another “go to” disguise penetrating hospital searching
medical records for Ashley.
She’s clueless of BOA person. However,
Pamela’s convinced Ashley is alive and hiding since Thurston has
been killed in action at work then Ashley’s being cared for
privately. Medical records are next clue. She grabs, absentmindedly
purple dress from rack plotting her new move. Thank goodness,
retail clerks are rude to buying customers and more interested in
gabby on cell phone than doing their paid jobs. She giggles,
lightly.
She can go disguised as nurse, not family
member looking to fit into a hospital environment. She has more
than enough self-confidence hacking into hospital mainframe
accessing Ashley’s medical records. She has one or two tricks up
her sleeves solving that problem. Her real concern is being spotted
and tattled by the real nurses in her disguise.
She scans walls of store with eyeballs noting
lousy items representing clinical population here. She needs nurse
shop. She exits store & walks slowly window shopping. She
enters Dollar Shop seeking any ideas for her next disguise as
nurse.
She trots to clothing section eyeballing
fabrics and materials. She sees nurses’ scrubs in different vividly
and playfully colors & geometric designs along with solid
colored elastic waist pants. Since introduction of billions of
dollars in government loans for medical school and medical
training, medical attire has become very common selling items in
general merchandising retail stores.
She grabs size medium holding top to her
shoulders for right fit & body spins toward register with
items. She stops, suddenly. She’s going to be spotted easily in
this outfit with her long hair in ponytail or bun. Black is very
difficult to color even with red or auburn highlights. She can’t
wear baseball cap into hospital. She might find a scrub cap but
that will take too much precious time.
She walks, slowly down each aisle, pondering
ideas. She swings back to front of store & grabs small basket
dumping nurse scrubs then collecting shelf items: bright blue eye
shadow, beige foundation, dark rosy cheek blush and yellow
fingernail polish in contract to her current pink manicured long
fingernails and glowing olive tanned skin without the use of
cosmetic makeup. The makeup products will dampen her looks to kinda
weird and mysterious.
Her hair is the major problem. She stomps,
slowly down more aisles hitting the toys. She stops, suddenly. She
examines, carefully colorfully kiddie fake hair combs and long
braids. She giggles, lightly.
Pamela can’t cover black hair but she can
disguise it ugly…fugly ugly. She grabs, excitedly different
lengths, colors and styles of fake hair placing in basket.
She strolls, cautiously next aisle after
aisle as her mind empties of new ideas. She returns to clothing
section & scans fabrics.
Her height is the second major problem. She’s
5 feet, 10 inches and can’t grow short and definitely not
taller.
She grins, toothy. She can grow fatter around
stomach and thighs, a girl’s nightmare. She’s got the height to
pull off more weight. She replaces medium scrubs for 2X sized
scrubs of bright baby blue with baby white kittens and brown
puppies along with matching solid baby blue pants. She gathers,
swiftly three sweat suits set of dark navy varied sizes of medium,
large and extra large to wear under her oversized hospital
scrubs.
She turns, swiftly toward cash register
slipping pair of scissors and minor items into basket. She pays,
accurately cash then exits, slowly store trotting to Public
Telephone calling taxi.
Time: 6:39pm. Federal Building.
Preston enters, lastly through office arch of
Cyber Crimes reaching new configuration of furniture in long
rectangular four tables butted end to end creating sorry working
stations. He scoots, nosily chair on left side & eye burns
occupants of Geneva on left butt end, Stockton top left corner,
Lacy top right end. Right butt end shows Ilenn’s flirting visually
with Arthur on right side of station. Larry occupies middle seat
playing on cell beside Preston.
Preston calls, immediately. “What we
got?”
Geneva talks, surly. “Not Pamela, I don’t see
you hauling her pretty little…”
Preston has picked this particular corner of
work station to curb & correct Geneva’s nasty mouth &
shitty attitude. He leans, heavily into her ugly face & sour
breathe. “Peace out, Geneva. Troops are working the current
situation. I don’t want to hear shit from your foul hole. I’m
tired. I’m pissed and I might take this…all of this…out on your
ass, later since you have pointed out so elegantly…this is your
rouge Retriever.”
Geneva opens, widely lips then closes it
& frowns uglier than normal. Preston jerks skull to Arthur
& grins, toothy. “What we got?”
“Food?” Larry neck snaps to noisy visitor
coming through archway.
“I ordered supper since we’re all working
late.” Preston announces, wildly & beats, musically on new
legal note pad with fresh pencil eraser.
“Thanks, Preston.” Larry offers,
complimentary & stands, swiftly assisting delivery guy with
bags and boxes on rear table.
Arthur reports professionally & frowns,
ugly. “Nothing! I have pieced together all the datum, data and info
from various interviews, places and video.”
“We got recordings?” Preston repeats,
interestingly.
Arthur presses button on laptop as overhead
projector displays, brightly lighted recording on provided white
screen film against side painted white wall devoid of fine art
work. Pamela enters then turns sideways & waves, super friendly
at corner camera of Burn U computer center. About 15 minutes, later
Pamela stares, beautifully into camera & smiles, sweetly.
Finally, she waves goodbye & exits, slowly dressed in pink
outfit and sandals.
“Pretty maidens in a row.” Geneva sneers,
unfriendly & eye burns Preston.
Arthur interprets, fully. “She’s booking her
flight to both Paris and London, then simply leaves the building
while her work ID is being transmitted to FBI IT Lab Shop for
tracing.”
Larry adds, completely between bites of food.
“She picked up from two different locations of Kangaroo Stores
housing Western Union stations the three grand. Neither clerk
recognized her face from photo, nor anyone else in the convenience
stores. Those stores are packed with kids hourly since they remain
open 24/7. I can walk in naked, no one will notice….”
“Let’s not ever do that, Larry.” Preston
comments, friendly, chuckles, lightly.
“Just making a valid point, Preston.” Larry
remarks, quickly then bites into turkey sandwich.
“After our ruse…” Arthur eye burns Geneva
then grins, toothy ‘cause the joke’s on her and her pocketbook.
“…at the airport when Pamela missed both flights. We abandoned that
post and interviewed Southside Public Library on new leads of
missing…”
Geneva replaces, brilliantly. “…stolen.”
Arthur uses, productively. “Of stolen laptop
at 11th and 17th Street. We circulated her photo there with same
negatory results. No one saw her…ever. But, she got a couple of
dates if found…” He snorts, humorously & eye burns Preston
since he’s the only other native on Earth that knows their
dating.
Preston beats, musically eraser on notepad
without viewing Arthur & sneers, ugly. “That’s not funny,
Arthur.”
“Right, Preston?” Arthur eye burns notes
& talks, meekly.