Chapter 19: Quarry is caught in the Trap

Friday arrived, and I waited at the airfield passenger terminal for my flight. At 7 PM, it approached the terminal and stopped at the assigned refueling point. I watched as the hatch opened and Agent Foster emerged. He walked over to the terminal and went inside. Looking around, he noticed me and waved. I grabbed my overnight bag and headed over to him.

“I am ready any time you are,” I responded. “Let us take this show on the road. What is the in-flight movie? I’m getting hungry; how long until they start serving?”

“Go out to the jet; I won’t be long.” “I need to take care of something,” Foster explained.

I exited the terminal and continued to the airplane. I stepped through the hatch, tossing my overnight bag to one of the crew members to be stored, and took my regular place by the wing. This seat was peaceful enough for me to snooze in. I didn’t bring a book this time since I didn’t know what I’d be doing.

To stay comfortable, I dressed in my customary polo shirt, dockers, and hikers. I kept a lightweight jacket in my backpack in case I needed it. With the wind blowing off Lake Michigan, you never knew what the temperature would be in Chicago this time of year.

The crew members were engaged with their routine pre-flight checks. They could start the engines as soon as the gasoline truck pulled away. We sat on the tarmac waiting for Agent Foster, who had yet to return from whatever he needed to do. I was starting to worry about Agent Foster, when he popped through the hatch. The copilot closed the cabin hatch and the plane began propelling itself toward the runway.

“Where did you go?” I asked. “You were gone a long time.”

He responded by tossing a white deli bag at me. It contained a rotisserie hot dog, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, a Hostess ding-dong, and a can of Faygo grape soda.

“You mentioned you were hungry, didn’t you? There were few options at this late hour.”

My in-flight meal was an overcooked hot dog, a bag of chips, stale dessert cakes, and grape soda. I’ve had worse.

We arrived at Midway International Airport at midnight, Chicago time. The jet taxied over to a hanger that was all to itself, and we remained on the jet until it was inside the hanger. When the hanger door closed, Agent Foster unlocked the hatch and we disembarked from the plane. The same agents as earlier greeted us. Everyone agreed to meet at O’Hara the next morning at 10 AM At the very least, I’d check into a hotel and get some sleep.

Agent Foster and another agent led me to a standard government agency vehicle. The vehicle screamed Feds with its simple steel hubcaps and spotlight on the driver’s door. The other agent drove, with Agent Foster riding shotgun and me in the rear. Our destination was a motel near O’Hare International Airport. We got off I-90 45 minutes later and checked into a run-down hotel. Agent Foster strolled inside the office and came out with a few keys. He gestured for me to exit. He handed me the key as I hopped out and grabbed my overnight bag.

Foster stated, “I’ll be knocking on your door at 9:30, so you should be ready to go then. The show starts at 11 AM. We can have breakfast at the airport in the morning.”

I climbed into bed, and at 3 AM, my stomach rebelled. It took some time before I was able to go back asleep. At 8:30 AM, I received the wake-up call I had requested. Agent Foster knocked on my door at 9:30 AM, as promised, to ensure that I was up and prepared. We got our belongings into the car and drove to the airport.

Agent Foster and his agents had a briefing in the waiting room. They discussed how they intended to arrest Ginny multiple times. They believed they had enough personnel in case Ginny caused them any issues. The arrest was carried out by six male and two female agents, as well as airport police if necessary.

I had to stand off to the side, hidden but visible when the passengers passed through the gate. Even though the team members recognized her, I was there to confirm her identity. When I identified her, I was to give the signal to Agent Foster. The crew would then swoop in and take her into custody with the least amount of force necessary. If she fought, there were more agents and airport police support available.

Ginny’s plane landed at 11:06 AM, and was pulled up to the terminal. I looked around, watching the FBI agents prepare to spring the trap. Some were clearly mulling over what they would do. While the others waited with little emotion, the airline official unlocked the door 10 minutes later, and people began to exit. Some passengers were greeted by family members, and the majority headed for the baggage claim area.

Ginny was looking about, I guess, for Jeff Valentine. I looked across at Agent Foster and nodded. He spoke into the headset he was wearing, and the arrest team took action. It was over practically before the rest of those in attendance realized what was going on. Two agents swooped in from behind her, pushing her against the wall beside the gate. They each held an arm. The other agents formed a circle around Ginny, with two of them holding her arms. Within 15 seconds, she was shackled and her arms pinioned behind her back. After she was fettered, one agent read her rights to her, and another explained why she was being detained.

Ginny showed little emotion other than shock. She didn’t resist, scream, or attract attention to herself. She accepted what was occurring. I don’t believe she comprehended what had happened to her. The emotional outbursts and physical resistance would occur later.

I stood by Agent Foster as the security team led her out of the terminal. They escorted her to a waiting government car for her booking at the county jail. She was gazing about, and her gaze was fixed on me as she passed by. I noticed that she knew me but did not respond to my presence. She was Ginny, but not Ginny. When they took her out, she appeared to have transformed into another entity. She was not the same young woman I knew before.

Agent Foster gestured me to follow him. We went to the baggage claim area to retrieve her luggage and take it to the FBI office. Following the issuance of a search warrant, the luggage would be examined for any evidence linked to the case. The bags would then be moved to a safe storage facility.

As we walked out of the terminal, I asked Agent Foster when I’d be back in Minot.

“Oh, you aren’t through yet, my friend,” he responded, smiling. “You have a deposition to give to the Federal Prosecuting Attorney. He needs to know everything about this crazy situation. This should take most of the afternoon. Don’t worry, lunch is on me.”

“As long as it isn’t a dried-up rotisserie hot dog and warm grape soda.” I said. “I am still feeling the effects from last night’s gourmet outing.”

“Hey, this is Chicago, home to deep-dish pizza and the best hot dogs in the world.”

“Any more delicacies like last night, and I want to be a vegan,” I told him.

When we arrived to the car, Agent Foster looked across at me, as if something was worrying him. “I need to ask you something; it’s been driving me crazy since I met you,” he stated.

“How did you come up with this nut job in the first place?” he quizzed.

After a quick lunch at a local pizza joint, Foster drove me to the US Prosecuting Attorney’s office and dropped me off. The next four hours was about my involvement with Ginny. He asked how we met and about our relationship in college and after college. When I spoke to the Prosecuting Attorney about her fury and the scars she left on my arm. I had to roll up my sleeve to show him. The Prosecuting Attorney had an assistant come in and take photographs. I’ve had professional photos done, but they weren’t as involved as the shots of my scars. They were photographed using multiple light exposures. In other photographs, a customized ruler was placed along the sides of the scars in order to show their size.