Blood

7. The Breadbox

I didn't bother stopping at Hedges' house, I just hurried around back to the shed again. I knew he'd be there. He's always there. Sometimes he even sleeps there in a sleeping bag on top of a workbench.

"Is that your uncle's stuff?" He asked when I came in with the folder in my hand. "No," I said. "But I need you to check it out."
"Show me," he said, holding out a hand.
I handed him the folder. "And this," I said, pulling out the wallet.

"You picked someone's pocket? Whose?"

"Oh, and this phone. Darn! I've been pocket dialing. I didn't realize. I guess he had the sound turned off when he tried to sneak up and kill me."

"What! Wait, if that phone's in use it's going to be a no brainer to trace it." He grabbed the phone and rushed across the workshop to a messy bench with a bunch of old mixers and blenders and other kitchen appliances on it. Pushing them aside, he pulled the lid off an old metal bread box open and put the phone in it. "That'll block the signal," he said.

"Is it dialing again?"

"No, I think it's on hold." He pulled it back out and listened to it. "Yeah," he said. "Hold music. I'll hang it up." He placed it back in the box and closed the door.

"Wait! You have to look at it before it locks you out."

"Oh." He stuck his head inside the breadbox again and began tapping at it with one hand. "Uh, this is a government phone," he said. "It's probably a federal offense to take it."

"What can you tell about the agent's mission? Why was he trying to shoot me?"

"Shoot you?" His head came out of the breadbox. "Damn!" "What can you learn from it?" I asked.

His head went back in. "His calendar says he's staying at the Pine Tree Inn for two nights. Isn't that out by the freeway?"

"Yeah. They have a conference center there. And a heated pool. According to their sign, anyway. What else?"

"It says Strike Team Active Status on today's date. Wonder what that means."

"Anything else?"

He pulled his head back out. "He uses abbreviations on his calendar and doesn't go into details. And his contacts list is just last names and phone numbers, no addresses. But I think I can get into the emails." He stuck his head back in.

After a while, he came back out. "These emails are encrypted," he said. "I bet you have to run them through a key ap to read them."

"A key ap?"

"Yeah, spies use them. I tried to open the ap but it's got its own password and I don't know it. Same with most of the other aps. I can't read his notes or look at his finances. Password protected."