“Follow your bliss. Find where it is, and don’t be afraid to follow it.” Joseph Campbell “What if you get three steps out the door and you ‘accidentally’ fall and break your neck?” Bill Spence shouted. For some reason he believed increased volume added weight to a line of reasoning. “He has a point.” Joey couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing with the Pillsbury Doughboy. “Your house burns down and there’s a senator in the hospital.” “Life is full of risks.” She continued rummaging through Joey’s closet. She found exactly what she was looking for. A hideous day glow blue jogging suit. “You need this?” “Not unless disco makes a comeback.” “I have to leave everything of mine here.” she said as she pulled off the wedding ring she still wore, for no particular reason other than habit, and a locket her mother had given her that had been in the family for over 200 years. “Why?” demanded Bill. “Because something may be bugged or have a tracking device on it.” “What are you talking about?” Bill asked. “Our house was bugged, and Michael Walker found several tracking devices on my car.” As the words left her mouth she wished she could grab them back and swallow them. “When was Walker in your car?” roared Bill Spence. 105 The Fourth Awakening “You did bust him out!” Joey slapped Penelope on the shoulder. “And you didn’t tell me!” Bill Spence moved directly in front of his ex-wife and through gritted teeth said, “Penelope, what was this Walker character doing in your car?” “Bill,” Penelope answered. “Your macho man routine didn’t work when we were married. What makes you think it’s going to impress me now?” “I’m just concerned for you…” “That is such BS. You’re concerned I might do something to embarrass you. Too late. Aft er Walker broke out of the brig, I gave him a ride to West Ashley Park. When he left the park he was wearing some of your old clothes. What do you think the stuffed shirts on the opera committee will think of that?” Bill Spence fumed but said nothing. “Should I call Ricky?” Joey asked. Penelope glared at Bill for a moment until she realized what Joey had just said. Her shoulders sagged. “Ricky? Ricky!” Penelope slapped her forehead. “Josephine Antoinette Middleton, you didn’t do it again. I don’t believe it.” “It was entirely your fault.” “How in the world could it possibly have been my fault?” “If you hadn’t been breaking people out of prison he wouldn’t have been over yesterday.” “Will you ever learn?” “What are you two talking about?” Bill Spence asked. “Shut up, Bill,” both women said, in unison. “I don’t have time for all of this now. Damn. I really wish I had my laptop.” Penelope paced in tight circles as she plotted her strategy. “Joey, I’m going to need to borrow your car.” “No way. I can’t lend my Beamer to a potential fl ight risk.” “I’m serious. I need your car.” “No way.” “Why not?” “Three reasons. One, you don’t know how to drive a stick.” “I know how to drive a stick shift …” “Tell that to Froggy LeGrange.” “I was sixteen!” “Yes but as I recall the transmission in his Camaro ended up in the middle of Calhoun Street.” Penelope didn’t have an answer so Joey 106 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin continued. “Two, after driving your little soybean-mobile for the last couple of years you couldn’t keep a real car on the road. And three,” Joey’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “If you think I’m going to miss this, you are out of your mind.” . PPenelope Spence checked the contents of the backpack for the third time. The biggest problem with her plan was she still didn’t know who the bad guys were. And there was always the possibility there were no good guys in this little drama. She didn’t trust Assistant Director Robert Smith even a little; she had dealt with his agenda-driven type before. She only had Walker’s word that the 30 missing people were alive and well, but no proof to support his claim. And, considering electronic devices were found on both her car and in her house, she had no idea if there was another player or even multiple players she still hadn’t met. All she knew for sure was that Horn had looked awful when she spoke to him, and it was possible that his stroke was from natural causes. Still, either Smith or Walker had the resources to cause illness to Horn and to burn down her house if either felt it was necessary. Plus Horn had made it clear that there were others waiting in the shadows, not to mention one billion people, who somehow had an interest in what was going on. She hadn’t felt this alive in years. Penelope plopped into the front seat of Joey’s Beamer. She was wearing the ugly blue sweat suit from the back of Joey’s closet and had the backpack on her lap. “I feel like Butch and Sundance,” Joey said with a laugh. “I’m thinking more Lucy and Ethel,” Penelope answered as she tried to control her breathing. “Will you settle for Stephanie Plum and Lula?” The two old friends exchanged smiles and nodded their agreement. “Buckle up, baby!” Joey exclaimed as she popped a Guns and Roses CD into the stereo and turned up the volume. Axl Rose began screaming as she turned over the ignition and punched the garage door opener on her visor. The door wasn’t even fully up when she slapped the car into reverse, dropped the clutch and floored it. The tires squealed as she laid a track of rubber down the driveway. She hit the curb at about the same moment Axl hit the chorus. 107 The Fourth Awakening When Joey slammed on the brakes, the car slid briefly on some loose gravel; fortunately there were no cars parked on the street. Before the sports car came to a complete stop she jammed the transmission into fi rst gear and floored the gas. A trail of burnt rubber and blue smoke formed behind the Beamer as it screamed down the nearly deserted street. Th e tachometer jumped to the right, but she didn’t bother with second gear until the red flash of German machinery was going over 30 mph. She was doing 60 long before she reached the guard station of her walled community. Tapping the brakes just enough to keep the car on the road, she dropped the gear from fourth to second, as she flew through the stop sign and made a right turn at over 40 mph. Before the drivers of the two vehicles that were assigned to tail Penelope Spence could put down their coffee and donut, Joey was a half mile ahead of them. Being a Sunday morning, traffic was sparse as she jumped the light at Sam Rittenberg Boulevard. A third of the town was already on the water or a golf course, a third was in church, and a third was still in bed recovering from the previous night’s activities. Joey and Penelope pretty much had the road to themselves. As the streaking red car approached the bridge over the Ashley River, Joey’s speedometer was passing 100 mph. Joey upped the volume to the max as the next Guns and Roses song kicked in. Axl began screaming “Welcome to the Jungle.” At the top of his lungs. Joey cut off a lumbering SUV in the middle lane, hit the brakes on the Beamer about a hundred yards from the on ramp to I-26 South, and dropped the gear from fi fth to third. The tach leaped into the red again as she popped the clutch and let the engine compression slow the car down; the motor screamed in protest. They were still going 60 mph, well above the recommend 35, when she hit the on-ramp. Thank God for German engineering. Not only did the BMW stay on the road, its right front wheel hugged the inside white stripe without drift ing. Once on I-26, she opened it up again. The speedometer topped out at 120 before she began her descent to the Morrison Street exit. She fl ew down the off ramp and took the stop sign and left turn at 35 mph. She ran the light at East Bay Street and headed toward town before slowing down to a more reasonable speed. Joey ran her hand through her windblown hair and said, “I’ve always enjoyed a Sunday drive. How about you?” For the first time since leaving her driveway she glanced over at her friend. Penelope was paler than her ex108 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin husband, and her fingernails were latched to the upholstery of the seat like a cat that didn’t want to be picked up. “Was that quick enough for you?” “Fine, thanks.” Penelope felt her blood pressure starting to return to normal, but nevertheless had a diffi cult time disengaging her grip on the seat. Her knuckles appeared to have gone into rigor mortis and she no longer had any control over them. “By the way, the Hendricks Racing Team called and said they’re looking for a driver next week at Talladega.” “Too many left turns for my taste.” By the time they passed Calhoun Street, most of Penelope’s normal functions had returned. As they approached the corner of East Bay and Market, she thought the adrenaline from Joey’s driving would have started to wear off . The exact opposite was happening. Walker, if he still planned to meet her, had to be close by. Somehow, on some level, she could feel his presence. They missed the light. Stuck in the middle of one of Charleston’s largest tourist attractions, there were too many people and cars for Joey to try anything aggressive, so they waited for the green light. Penelope looked around for any signs of Walker or flashing police lights, but found neither. She was hardly surprised that she couldn’t see Walker; she doubted he would stand out. There was still a half hour before they were scheduled to meet. Joey drove just under the speed limit down East Bay Street, past Broad and pulled into an open spot in front of the Battery at the extreme tip of the Charleston peninsula. This was the exact spot where, on April 12, 1861, the American Civil War began. Beginning at 4:30 a.m. and for the next 34 straight hours the Confederate batteries pounded Fort Sumter until it surrendered. It is a matter of some dispute whether it was one of Penelope’s ancestors or one of Joey’s who was given the honor of lighting the fuse on the first cannon. Most history books give the credit to Ezekiel Drayton, a fact Mark discovered while they were in college and had never let Penelope forget. Joey watched her friend grab her borrowed items and reach for the door handle. Penelope had a nagging feeling that it might be a long time before they shared another bottle of wine and a laugh. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hugged her lifelong friend. “You okay?” Joey asked, surprised by the flash of emotion from her friend. “I’ll see you later this aft ernoon, right?” Penelope wiped a tear off of her cheek. “Right,” she lied. Penelope 109 The Fourth Awakening Drayton Spence somehow knew that the moment she stepped out of the car her life would change forever. It still wasn’t too late to turn back and rebuild her life in Charleston. Racked for a moment with emotion and doubt, she drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She was doing the right thing. They hugged again and Penelope jumped out of the car and trotted toward one of the benches in Battery Park. . MMrs. Gloria Von Ward had been considering getting up and getting dressed when her cell phone went off. Having just spent the first night of her honeymoon at a bed and breakfast overlooking Charleston Harbor, she couldn’t imagine who would be calling her. When the female voice on the phone told her to hold for the Department of Homeland Security’s Director of Emerging Technologies, she sat straight up in bed, slapping her husband of 18 hours hands away. “Agent Von Ward? “Yes, sir.” “This is Director Noah Shepherd. I need you to respond immediately to an eminent national security threat.” “Yes, sir.” . PPenelope was nearly alone in White Point Garden, a tree-fi lled park at the tip of the peninsula where the Confederate Battery had once stood. She surveyed the area. There was an old man walking his dog with one hand holding a leash and the other gripping a plastic doggy waste bag. There was a young couple in the gazebo that hadn’t even noticed her since they couldn’t take their eyes off each other. There was a fit young woman stretching her legs, clearly preparing for her morning run. It looked pretty safe to her. The runner kept her left side away from Penelope’s line of sight. She didn’t want her to see the Bluetooth earpiece. This was a career moment for Gloria Von Ward, the honeymoon be damned. To have someone at the Director’s level at Homeland Security call her, a Field Agent only a year out of the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, was unheard of. While the woman in the blue jogging suit may have lost her tail for the moment, they’d all start arriving within the next few minutes. If Von 110 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin Ward could keep her in sight for five minutes she would be on a fast track that only having a marker from the Director’s level could bring. Penelope Spence began jogging up Church Street. Before the Civil War, Charleston had been one of the richest cities in the country. Th e area known as “South of Broad”, which encompasses the tract between Broad Street and the Battery, has some of the finest examples of early American architecture in existence. Sprawling restored mansions, many with harbor views, help make Charleston one of the top vacation destinations in the country. On a beautiful Sunday morning such as this, tourists and horse-drawn carriages crowd the narrow streets. It took Penelope less than a block before she realized that the woman from the park might be following her. Looking for confi rmation, she took a left on Atlantic and a right on Meeting Street. The other runner was still there, matching her stride for stride. She looked at least 20 years younger and in much better shape; the chances of outrunning her were slim. She would have to outthink her. Penelope took a right on Water Street and slowly headed back towards the Cooper River. At the corner, she jogged in place until a tourist’s horse-drawn carriage moved out of her way, then ............