Stolen Identity Ch 4

Contrary to both their assumptions, I was ready and packed within five minutes.  I won't guarantee that the clothes were ironed... but Sunday morning we were all set to go.  Summer drove us to the light rail station, and from there the three of us rode the train and walked to the ticket counter.
Checking in was effortless.  Michelle, Shelly and I each showed our identification and within twenty minutes we waited in the security line.  Shoes came off, pockets emptied, purses all but dumped and wallets deposited.  An hour later, we had our possessions returned and were meeting with the gate agent as we readied for our flight.
"Ahh yes, Mr. Claxion.  TSA returned this to you... apparently it fell out of your carry-on back through security."  The gate agent handed me a thick clasp envelope.
I slipped it into my carry on.  "Thank you."
"Your seats are in row 37.  Have a nice flight!"

Once we were boarded on the DC-10, Shelly and I sat together while Michelle sat in the single seat on the opposite side of the aisle.  It was a small plane, but since we wouldn't be fed over the two hour flight there would be no risk of turning the place into a parking lot.
After we were in the air, I reached beneath the seat in front of me and retrieved the file from the gate agent.  Upon opening it, I pulled out several glossy sheets of photos, names, and known addresses of several shady individuals.
"I don't like the look of that fellow," Shelly said as she looked over my shoulder rest.
The top of the list was of a man named Terrence Spurman.  Caucasian, 6'3", red hair and squirrelly arms - the man had a lot of body hair.  Fortunately, he didn't seem all that dangerous.  Cunning with gadgets, but not dangerous.
"Let me see those," Michelle said as she leaned across the aisle.
"In a minute, I'll hand the whole thing to you."  Moving on, the next dossier covered the two brothers, named Ron and Lonnie Hoidt.  Both men were around 5'4", had balding hair, and were apparently acrobats in their youth.  They lived on an island in the middle of the Detroit River - Belle Island - and their grandfather had participated in the great bootlegger's movement of the Prohibition era.
"Maybe you could watch those two, Shelly," I said.  "It says that they live on a waterfront home along the river."
"Yeah, maybe," Shelly trailed off.  She wasn't too excited about chasing anyone, especially doing it all by herself.
Moving onto the third dossier, this one was an image of an older woman who reminded me of Cruella Deville.  Lyndra Thrump had spiky white hair, a gold tooth, and had a record that not only included scalping dogs for their coats but also limited genetic research.  From what I read about her history file, however, I began to doubt that this woman wanted anything to do with fish.
"She sure reminds me of -" Shelly began.
"Yeah, the woman from 101 Dalmatians.  Still, might be someone to keep an eye on," I commented.  
Onto the final one.  This person had access to a lab on Lake St. Clair, the smaller lake near Detroit and just south of Lake Huron.  An individual by the name of Lucious Macaffey.  Although he didn't seem to be the owner of the lab, Macaffey had dealt with genetic research and been involved in a theft of goods related to lake biotechnology, including a failed experiment that would allow divers to go deeper without scuba equipment than anyone else.  Although the experiment was a spectacular failure with several casualties, apparently this didn't stop Macaffey from pursuing the dream.  
"Why would a guy continue these failed exploits?" Shelly asked me after she read the file herself.  
I shook my head.  "Must be something underwater that he wants that he can't get to.  Even with traditional diving equipment."
"Do you suppose he'd have the incentive?" Shelly asked.
"He'd certainly have the most to gain from this...." Without really coming to a conclusion, I folded up the dossiers and handed them across the aisle to Michelle.
"Coffee, tea, milk?" a flight attendant asked.
"Bottled water?" I asked.

Eventually, we landed in Detroit and collected our remaining luggage.  Summer then drove us to the hotel, where we would plan our strategy.  A nice Chinese place down the street delivered several egg rolls, sesame chicken, white rice and lo mein noodles while Michelle picked something out of her suitcase.  On the shipping tag there was an 'inspected' tag across the destination card.
"What's this?"
"What's what?" I asked.
Michelle pulled out a plastic bag containing a pair of blue tooth headsets, as well as several sticky patches that resembled rubbery red jelly.  Included with the electronic articles was a small scope with a blue sapphire lens, a large professional pen that had a sliding collar, and a collection of silicon chips with adhesive backing.
"Do you suppose that is the equipment that the agent told us about?" Shelly asked.
"I wondered why we only received the file... they must've slipped it into our luggage once the TSA had access to it," I observed.
"Sounds like something they'd do," Michelle replied as she looked over the equipment before returning to her bowl of sesame chicken.  "Did they add instructions?"
Shelly pulled her duffle bag closer, noting that it too had been inspected.  On the very top of her luggage was a plain manila clasp envelope.  
I pulled it out and unfolded it.  "These must be them... they packed them separately just in case the luggage fell into the wrong hands."
"Or wheels," Michelle commented.
"How do you figure?  Nobody else..." I paused as I glanced at her hands, which had become tires.  "Oh."
She kneeled between the beds as her feet also turned into tires.  "They slipped a hot pepper into the sesame chicken."
"Sesame chicken is supposed to be spicy," I replied.
"Now you tell me," Michelle muttered as her hips began to transform.  
"Do I need to move?" Shelly asked as Michelle's body tripled in size, expanding between the beds and atop as she formed into a full size convertible inside the tight space.  Within moments, Summer was leaning onto the second bed while Shelly sat across from Summer's fabric roof.  
"At least the FBI understood that we needed a hotel with steel bedframes," Shelly observed.
I took a bite of egg roll and swallowed before raising my fork in thought.  "I seem to recall that I asked you if you objected to sesame chicken, Summer, and you said no.  Didn't I mention that, Shelly?"
Shelly nodded, but didn't contribute to the discussion.  She knew better.
"And I said that's all we needed, so we wouldn't have too many leftovers.  So you're off the hook this time.  In the meantime, my food is getting cold."  Summer was very concise about it - I assumed she was just trying to stem her anger so that her engine didn't start up inadvertently.
"Er... shall I get some ice from the machine in the hall?" I asked.
"Won't you use your pearl?" Summer asked.
"Yeah, of course... but I wondered if you wanted some ice water as well."
"I'd like some," Shelly said.
"Me too... after I check my bowl for any more peppers," Summer replied.

Dinner continued without any automotive accidents.  Shelly later relaxed in the bathtub while Michelle and I went to work on our game plan for the following day.  We both decided that it was too risky to allow Shelly to work surveillance on her own.  All four dossiers were laid out across the bed as we discussed our options.
"I'm not convinced that all of these suspects are worth watching, so maybe we should start with them first," Michelle said as she looked over the individual dossiers.  "The lady with the dog fur coat and the fellow with the gadgetry don't seem like they'd be interested in mermaid DNA."
"Agreed."  I've always thought of myself as a good judge of character;  anyone who's a convicted felon associated to dog cruelty, not to mention among the top ten most wanted list according to Peta, is more likely to covet Flipper for his cosmetic uses before the need for having mermaid blood.  "You can't make makeup out of mermaid blood."
"We should still investigate them, though.  Cauldwell wants us to use those GPS tracking chips on their belongings or vehicle if we suspect anything."
"How will they know if we've investigated them but found nothing?" I asked.
"There are two types of chips.  One type will signal for them to intervene, while the other will simply allow them to be monitored by additional agents," Michelle replied.  "We are to give at least four hours of observation before using them, however.  The optical scope is supposed to allow for discreet observation."
"And the bluetooth stuff?"  I motioned towards the two bluetooth earpieces on the dresser across from the bed.
"Actually, those are for you and Shelly.  They're designed to interface with my CCC radio at local range.  Dr. Chase says he's been working on those for a long time... I suppose I could wear one too, but I wouldn't want to lose it accidentally."
"No, I expect Dr. Chase would cry if we lost these things.  He's very careful about who uses CCC technology."
"What other spy toys did we get, anyways?" she asked.
"The pen is a camera with a small lens inside of the collar - pulling the cap apart slightly and hitting the clicker at the end takes the picture.  The instructions said they would know how to remove the photos at a later time."
"And those patches?"  Michelle asked.
"They're for you.  They're like the cold patches, but heat up enough to trigger your change."
Michelle smiled.  "For a quick transformation... hopefully I can carry them around okay."
"And not be burned, either," I added.  "Otherwise, we're to avoid confrontation at all costs and keep our distance.  Cauldwell isn't looking for us to show our faces if we can avoid it."
Michelle stacked the four dossiers and returned them to the envelope.  "We'll start with Spurman and Thrump, then.  Hopefully we'll be able to give Cauldwell what he wants and make it home soon."
"So you can take your tests?"
Michelle nodded.  "And get this detective stuff over with."

The following morning we would go to work.  We made use of the hotel's continental breakfast - I had about two waffles, mmm mm - and then gathered in the parking ramp before going our separate directions.  
Inside of a black GMC Envoy, Agent Keller was waiting for us per the instructions we had received during our wake up call.
Keller's meeting would be brief.  He rolled down the window and leaned outside as we approached.  "Any questions on the use of the equipment?"
"Just one."  I stepped closer to the idling vehicle.  "How do we get photos off of that pen camera?"
"I have a special adaptor that downloads the photos.  When we meet again on Wednesday, I'll switch cameras with you," Keller replied.  
"Is there anything special we should do?  And if we find anything, what then?" Michelle asked.
"For today and tomorrow, observe and scout.  After Wednesday, we'll decide what to do from there."  Agent Keller's brow furled beneath his dark sunglasses.  "Remember, just observe.  Don't take too many chances."
"Understood," I replied.  "I'm an expert observer."
"All the same, be careful."  He began to roll up the window.  "See you Wednesday."  
"We will," Michelle replied.  Keller put the truck into gear and drove away.  
Shelly watched the truck leave and a worried expression crossed her face.  "Can we get this over with?"
"Yeah."  Michelle kneeled into the parking space.  "Hopefully, the sooner the better."
"This should work just like those cold patches, right?" Shelly removed one of the sticky red patches and placed it onto Michelle's bare skin along her arm.  The patch had been coated with wax paper to prevent oxidization and premature burn.
"Remove the wax paper... wow, that is warm!"  Michelle gasped as her hands turned into tires.  
Shelly stepped back before she could remove the other piece of wax paper.  Michelle's body began to stretch and expand as the warm patch did its job.  Hips morphed into fenders while shoulders changed into a windshield and a dash.  As the heat spread to her body, soon her transformation had completed and Michelle was now a full sized Sebring convertible.
I inspected her door to find a small piece of wax paper sticking to it.  When I removed the wax paper, no residue from the hot patch had remained.
"How's that?" I asked.
"Good, thanks.  Those sure are effective... I'll keep them in my pocket... er, glove box, and hope that they don't come off the wax paper too early."  Summer started her engine.  "You'll both be taking the transit train to check on that Spurman fellow?"
I nodded.  "When we're nearby, I'll get onto the headset and report our position."
"And I'll do what I can to follow I read the instructions a bit further last night.  It says that your headset reports a GPS position, but I still can't decipher the GPS data.  I need to ask Dr. Chase to update that next time we visit," Summer explained.
"Maybe after we complete this mission for them, they'll give it to you as thanks," Shelly said.
"Maybe.  I don't know why they insist on keeping things from me that are so useful..." Summer trailed off as her gear shifter moved to drive.  "Do you need a lift to the train station?"
"It's just a block.  We can walk," I replied.
"You sure?" Summer asked.
"If we ride, someone might see that there's no driver," I answered.
"Right."  Summer has always been mindful of her secrecy.  "Okay then, shall we meet up at lunch?"
"Let's play it by ear," Shelly said.
"Got it.  Keep me posted, see you both soon."  Summer then released her brake and pulled out from the parking space bound for the exit.
"You nervous?" I asked Shelly as we crossed the parking ramp for the elevator.
She shrugged.  "A little.  It worries me that someone could have a part of me... it feels like losing part of your soul."
"For whatever reason, someone has taken that from Dr. Chase's lab... and we'll figure out who, why, and bring them to justice," I said as I patted her on the back.

We made a few stops on the way to the apartment that Mr. Gadget, Terrence Spurman, lived in.  I'll admit that the items I picked up weren't anything useful for the distraction I was planning, but they worked in a pinch.  Our lookout was not going well.
"Gregory, do you really believe that anyone who finds us on a fire escape in downtown Detroit with a disposable camera will accept that we're here for photographing rare pigeons?"
I shrugged as I grunted with the binoculars while leaning over the edge.  "No."
"Then why try and fake it?" Shelly asked.  "Didn't you tell Agent Keller you were an expert observer?"
"I got nothing else," I muttered as I adjusted the scope.  "The FBI only gave us so many tools."
She leaned close to my shoulders and reached for the scope.  "Can I at least see?  We've been here for hours.  Do you see anything that looks incriminating?"
I handed her the scope.  "He's been on the computer.  Mostly Warcraft.  Didn't they say he had a job somewhere?"
"I don't recall," Shelly replied.  She gazed into the scope before handing it back quickly.  "Ugh."
"What?"
"I don't like what he's looking at."  She handed me the scope.
I took a quick look through the scope, focusing on what was on his computer.  Child porn?
"I'll second that."  I pocketed the scope and removed the bluetooth headset.  "I think we're done here."
"Agreed," Shelly replied.  She collected the rest of our gear as I put the headset on.  "Should we use one of the tracking chips?  For that child porn stuff?"
I thought about it, but the logistics of applying a tracking chip to an apartment seemed daunting.  "How?"
"Oh yeah... hadn't thought of that.  How about in his mail box?"
"I'll buy an envelope.  At least that'll give Cauldwell something."  I adjusted the headset.  "Summer?  It's Gregory."

Summer had been parked in a drugstore parking lot across from a business complex.  She was growing restless as very little had changed.  
"Summer, you there?" I asked again.
"Yeah, I'm here.  Did it say anywhere in the dossier that Thrump worked at a business complex on the west side?" Summer asked.
"I don't remember.  Where are you?" I asked over the CCC radio.
"About seven miles west of downtown.  I followed her here... she came in a business suit and heels.  I think she's a secretary now.  What about you?"
"Apartment on the north end.  All he's done is play Warcraft all morning.  Nothing in his apartment suggests he's an evil mastermind.  Gross, perhaps, but not an evil mastermind."
"I see...." Summer replied.
"I'll tell you more later.  Regardless, he's not after Shelly."
"I'm beginning to think the same about this lady.  Even her coat was made of synthetic fibers," Summer replied.  "If she's still Cruella, I'm a Pinto."
"Shall we meet up for lunch someplace?  Did you see anyplace along the train line?"
"I did a little research before we left.  There's a good grill place right near the 15th Street Station.  They have great fajitas," Summer replied.  "Shall I meet you there?"
"15th Street or 15th Avenue?" I asked.
"Street.  Calico Jack's.  Be there by 12:30?"
"You got it.  We'll see you then."  The CCC radio went dark.
Summer checked her perimeter.  She hesitated to start her engine, however, as a pair of suited gentlemen approached her rear bumper.
"...Well, that's true... hold on.  What have we here?  Is that a 2001 Sebring?"
"Can't be... it's practically brand new..."
Summer beamed.
"No, it is!  I know these cars like the back of my hand... I worked on the Chrysler line for fourteen years.  That is a 2001 if I say it is."
"You're sure?"
"Sure it is.  Look at that backside... what a piece of work.  Detroit engineering at its finest.  And that suspension is supreme... hmm... those aren't stock...."
A feeling of cold dread passed across Summer as the men gazed beneath her bumper.  It was a very uncomfortable feeling as the men inspected her suspension.
"Such a fine backside... they really goofed it when the new models came out the following year.  I protested... they put me onto trucks after that."
"Those shocks look very powerful... must be modified... but the rest of it looks stock.  Very clean lines..."
He kicked Summer's back tire.  She couldn't contain her silence any longer.
"Ugh!"
Both men jumped and slowly stepped back.  "Was that you?" one asked the other.
"I didn't say anything."
Summer started her engine.  It was time to really get their attention.
"What the heck?"
"Did you do that?"
Both men looked around.  People were walking in the street and the parking lot, but none of them seemed to be approaching.  One man grabbed the other's sleeve.  "Come on.  We've got places to be."
"Right.  Probably just a remote starter... yeah."
Both men quickly crossed the street and were silent.  Summer laughed to herself.  "That'll teach you both to stare."  She backed up and exited the parking lot.