The Safe House: A Tim and Mary Ann Mystery, #2

By Jeffrey Mechling

A spy under pressure. A secret below the sea. Can he blow the lid off a treacherous conspiracy?

CIA Case Officer Tim Hall will go to any lengths to protect his safe house. And with his FBI agent girlfriend now under the same roof, he's confident everything is locked down. So when a Soviet-era submarine lurks off the Florida coast, he's sure they'll send someone else to assess the threat.

Headstrong Bureau operative Mary Ann Wilson isn't about to take orders from her lover. When she pulls the assignment to investigate the mysterious submersible, she accepts without hesitation. But an unfortunate misstep sends her in over her head and snares Agent Hall in her wake…

As duty tears the lovers apart, they sink deeper into a dangerous web of lies, secrets, and betrayals. And when they find themselves trapped aboard the underwater menace, it may doom both their love and their missions.

Can they force justice to the surface before they're both sent to a watery grave?

The Safe House is the second novel in the page-turning Tim Hall and Mary Ann Wilson Adventure series. If you like gripping espionage, superspy romance, and breathtaking twists and turns, then you'll love Jeffrey Mechling's fast-paced thriller.

Buy The Safe House to dive into a high-stakes chase today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Good As Gone Group
• Release date: Sep 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393393856

Jeffrey Mechling

Jeffrey Mechling was raised in a family full of secrets. His maternal grandfather was thought to be an agent in the OSS who made several trips to Germany before WW2. Although Mechling grandfather was never known to have served in the military, he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery with the rank of Major.  A number of other Mechling family members seemed to have jobs with the United States Government that they “just could not talk about”. Mr. Mechling is himself an Analysis with a not so secret government agency and is married to the artist Kathleen Ryder. They reside in Northern Virginia.

Book preview

2

Mary Ann’s ex-husband had placed their two daughters on a direct Southwest flight from Cleveland, which was the reason Tim found himself driving to BWI. Although Southwest now operated out of Reagan National, which was closer, there were no direct flights there from Cleveland. Tim would have much preferred for the two girls to fly into Washington-Dulles and had even offered to pay for a more expensive flight on United Airlines, but Mary Ann’s ex would not hear of it. The man had his pride, Tim figured.

Since he’d taken over the Safe House from his late wife, the Agency had made some improvements to the driveway. It was now paved almost down to Lovettsville Road, and a gate had been installed that only opened for certain vehicles.

Tim drove through the gate and down to Lovettsville Road, turning onto US Route 15 and then going left to the Point of Rocks Bridge.

Tim seldom crossed the Point of Rocks Bridge these days. As he passed the scene of Pam’s so-called accident, he could see no indication that anything had ever happened at that particular spot—no blood stains or skid marks. The Agency really did do an excellent job of cleaning things up.

Tim had essentially inherited the management of the Safe House from his late wife, the woman who was about ten seconds away from shooting him in the head before she was struck and killed by a pick-up truck. It was Tim’s understanding that the driver of the truck was extremely upset that his inattention had killed two people and perhaps still wondered why he was only charged with Failure to Pay Full-Time Attention instead of Vehicular Manslaughter. The driver was fined $250 and would never be told that his inattention had saved Tim’s and Mary Ann’s lives.

As the Agency required someone with the rank of a Case Officer to manage the Safe House, it had offered the position to Tim after his debriefing. Since Tim was not retiring from the Agency, he made an excellent candidate.

Since the Cold War had ended, there were no longer very many spies from other countries seeking asylum. Because of this, the CIA had signed an agreement with the United States Marshals Service to share the house. For the most part, this entailed entertaining suspects who were willing to testify in exchange for Witness Protection, which meant getting new names and new identities—and Tim’s Safe House was usually the first stop on that road. The house was officially known as Defensive Safe House #22, Lovettsville, and it was considered one of the better safe houses due to the location.

Usually, Tim and Mary Ann had little to do with the guests at the house, as they were collectively known. If there was any contact, Tim tried to be nice to them while Mary Ann did not. The United States Marshals had constructed a separate four-bedroom home for the guests plus accommodations for the Marshals running security. Tim’s biggest job in the whole matter was to maintain a budget between the CIA and the Marshals, which was not as easy as it sounded. It involved record keeping and time sheets and then even more record keeping. On top of that, Tim was now responsible for anywhere between 5 to 20 employees who would be working at the Safe House at any given time. Most of these employees were security staff who were either contractors from the Agency or Deputy Marshals.

As a matter of fact, Tim was also now a Special Deputy United States Marshal in addition to a CIA Case Officer. Tim had never really wanted to be a cop, but that was basically part of his job now.

There were meetings at the beginning of each week to discuss Safe House issues, which covered everything from what food to serve to maintaining the swimming pool. Tim was the manager and the boss, but he left just about all of the day-to-day operations to Katie McNamara. Tim found that Katie was at his beck and call for just about everything, although he made an effort not to take advantage of this. Requesting her help taking care of Mary Ann’s girls was just something he had to do. To Tim, minding two teenagers was scarier than keeping watch over a convicted murderer.

Now that Tim had passed the bridge of sorrow, as he and Mary Ann sometimes referred to the Point of Rocks Bridge over the Potomac, he guided the Mercedes S560 east toward Frederick, Maryland and the junction of Interstate 70. Tim figured that he would get on the Baltimore Beltway over to the BW Parkway down to BWI. There may have been a quicker way to make the trip, but Tim was in no hurry. He had time to kill.

It had been a year now since Tim had been pulled back in, as he liked to think of it. The President, known to many as the most hated man in America, was still the Commander in Chief, and no one had been able to prove that he was in any collusion with the Russians. In other words, the most famous woman in the world other than Oprah Winfrey had still lost an election that should have been a sure thing to a guy who starred in a reality show. Embarrassing, yes, but still not impossible. What really surprised Tim, however, was how quickly his friends and work colleagues were to take sides. If you didn’t agree with them, they considered you part of the problem. Tim had witnessed this firsthand when he was debriefed after the attempt on the President’s life. Some of the Agency people who’d questioned Tim had almost appeared disappointed that the plot had failed. Tim was no fan of the current President, but he was much less a fan of anyone telling him how to think.

Since Tim was now running his own operation, however, he no longer needed to play office politics. And on the few occasions he needed to go to Langley for a meeting, he just kept his mouth closed about everything except baseball.

Tim was now on Interstate 695, better known as the Baltimore Beltway. He was almost sure that he was going the right way. Tim’s pride made him refuse to use the S560’s GPS system. He had once found his way out of a Nicaraguan jungle using just a compass, so he could certainly figure out the interstate highways of metropolitan Baltimore—or so he thought, until he saw a sign that he was heading toward the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

Shit. I do that every time, Tim cursed to himself as he looked for an exit to turn around. Not seeing one anywhere, he decided to do the unthinkable. He pulled into the far left lane and looked for a crossover. After finding one, Tim slowed and made the left turn on the median strip. He carefully looked at the oncoming traffic, picked a spot, and made the left turn heading in the opposite direction. The S560 went from 0 to 60 in 6.5 seconds, as advertised.

Thirty seconds after that, Tim saw the unmarked Dodge Charger with the red and blue lights in the grill. Figures, he said as he reached into the glove box to retrieve his registration and driver’s license. He also decided to do something he had never tried before. He would show the cop his US Marshal ID.  

Tim glanced in his side mirror to see the unmistakable straw campaign hat worn by the Maryland State Police. The trooper was a young, thin man who had the same look of every state cop Tim had ever seen. They all looked dead serious.

May I see your license and registration, please? the trooper asked.

Tim handed over his badge, license, and registration. The trooper looked at the Marshall Badge and ID, then switched his gaze to Tim. Are you on the job, Deputy Hall?

Tim could have lied, but he decided not to. Nope. Just picking up my girlfriend’s kids at BWI, and I’m running late.

Perhaps that was not the best explanation Tim could offer, but he was interested to see what would happen next. The trooper returned to his vehicle, which was usually not a good sign. It typically meant the cop was writing a summons. Tim next saw an additional state police car, this one marked, pull in behind the unmarked one. An older trooper got out and met the younger trooper. They spoke for a minute, then walked back to Tim.

The older trooper was neither friendly nor unfriendly, but he was direct. Mr. Hall, Deputy Hall, whoever you are—please do not come over to the State of Maryland and flagrantly break our traffic laws. Have a nice day.

With that, the cop handed Tim back his IDs, turned, and returned to his car. Both state troopers then drove away, leaving Tim and his Mercedes S560 alone.

The best that Tim could figure was that the young trooper had called his supervisor for advice, and it was possible that the older trooper remembered the incident at the Point of Rocks Bridge, since the Maryland State Police had originally investigated the accident. Maybe...but maybe it was just a case of one cop dealing with another cop. In any event, Tim was now officially running late.

He began his drive to BWI once again and arrived with about ten minutes to spare. He parked in the most expensive lot at the airport just to save time and found himself running into the main terminal, looking for the Southwest gates. They were not hard to find. Tim thought for a second that maybe he could use his Marshal badge to get past the TSA, but his most recent experience with the Maryland State Police convinced him against trying that.

Tim approached the large yellow Southwest arrivals/departures board, only to see that flight 1548 from Cleveland had landed twenty minutes ago, which meant that Mary Ann’s kids were off the plane and wandering around the airport.

Nice work, Tim, he could hear Mary Ann admonishing him now. For the first time in a long while, he almost panicked...until suddenly there they were, Molly and Amy, waiting in the corner.

Molly was scanning the crowd looking for Tim. Amy still had her earbuds in and was playing some kind of game on her iPhone.

Molly, Amy, it’s me, Tim! Over here! Tim yelled.

Molly elbowed her younger sister, who picked up her backpack and followed her over without looking up from her phone.

Where’s our mother? was the first question out of Molly’s mouth.

She had to teach a class this afternoon, so—

So you got stuck picking us up at the airport. Typical Mom, Molly responded, weariness in her voice. Apparently, this was not the first time Mary Ann hadn’t showed up at the airport, or school, or a number of places she’d promised to be for her children.

Are you parked a long way away? Molly wondered.

No. We’re right out front, and we’ll be there in a jiffy, Tim responded, not believing for a second that he’d actually used the word jiffy.

Anyways, he continued, I’m certainly happy to see both of you again.

As he was speaking, though, Tim noticed that Molly had plugged in her earbuds and joined her younger sister in iPhone land. Carefully, he guided both girls across the Arrivals area of BWI and led them back to the S560.

If the girls were impressed with the car, they didn’t show it. Tim unlocked all four doors, and both girls began to get in the backseat.

No way, he thought to himself. Placing his hand on Molly’s shoulder, he motioned that she should take her earbuds out. Molly? I’m going to need you to help me with something, so you sit up front with me, he explained.

Molly did not seem to be interested in helping Tim, but she complied with his request and opened the passenger side door. Amy didn’t seem to care where her sister sat and just continued to interact with her phone screen.

Make sure your sister puts on her seatbelt, will you? Tim asked the older girl. I assume she can speak, since I haven’t heard her say anything yet, he added in a mutter.

Yeah, she talks. She talks a lot. She’s just afraid of you. She’s afraid of all of mom’s boyfriends, Molly informed him.

And you’re not? Tim asked.

No, I’m not—because none of you guys stay around very long. Now, what do you need my help with?

So none of Mary Ann’s boyfriends lasted long? Well, that was certainly an interesting piece of information. Tim and Mary Ann had been together for a little over a year now, and Tim had never really given much thought to any of the other men in her life. He now wondered if Mary Ann used what Tim referred to as the one-or-two-year-relationship plan. Many people thought that one or two years was the shelf life of a relationship. After a year or two, the thinking went, the couple should break up and move on. Tim wasn’t sure if this is what Mary Ann had in mind, but he supposed he’d better find out.

Anyway, it would certainly make an interesting conversation for the long drive back to Lovettsville.  

3

It did not take Molly very long to determine that Tim really didn’t need her help with anything important. Tim tried to get her to work the S560’s GPS for him, but Molly told Tim that if he didn’t know how to get home, then the three of them were in trouble no matter what, since she’d never been to Maryland or Virginia before today. Tim confessed that he just wanted to get to know her better, and Molly said that he should have just asked. Tim was quickly learning that Molly was a very perceptive teenager.

Stopping to get gas, Tim bought sodas, chips, and some candy for all three of them. At that point, even the elusive Amy smiled and thanked him.

Sandy never lets us have any of this stuff, Molly explained.

This made Tim laugh, but he asked the two girls not to tell their stepmother about it. Oh, no worries there, Amy told him.

At least Tim now knew that the kids could be bribed.

So how did you meet my mom? Molly asked him when they were driving again.

Well, she was bartending at this place in Baltimore that I used to visit...

My mom is not a bartender. She’s an FBI Agent, Amy interrupted from the back of the car. She’d apparently decided to start listening to the conversation.

Yes, Amy, you’re right: your mom is an FBI Agent. But she was pretending to be a bartender at the time—

So were you a bad guy? It was Molly who’d interrupted him this time.

Well, no, I work for the CIA, and I was just—

Are you a spy, Tim? Amy demanded.

Well, I used to be a spy a long time ago, but now I do other stuff.

Do you carry a gun? Molly asked.

Spies usually do not carry weapons, but I do on occasion.

Did you rescue my mother? Amy wondered.

I like to think that your mom and I rescued each other.

Well, my mom told my grandma that she is really in love with you and that this time it’s the real thing, Molly said. But I’ve heard people say that before. I still don’t know what they were talking about. Do you know, Tim?

Tim thought about that for a minute. I don’t know if I can answer your question, Molly, but I can tell you that I do love your mother.

More than your other wife? The one who died on the bridge?

Boy, these kids knew a lot more than Tim had realized.

Yes, Molly and Amy, I do love your mother more than my late wife Pam.

Tim believed that was the first time he had ever admitted this to himself.

The two girls had tag-teamed Tim so effectively that he was not exactly sure if he’d revealed anything that he was not supposed to divulge. All he knew was that they were almost back to Virginia now.

Although it was past 6 p.m., there was still at least two hours of daylight left. As they drove over the Potomac River, both girls looked down. This looks like the Ohio River, Amy said.

Yes, I guess in places it kind of does look like the Ohio, Tim responded, but we are about ten miles above the fall line, so there are no barges this far up.

Can you go swimming in it? Molly wondered.

Yes, people go tubing in the river, which is something we can do if you want—but we also have a swimming pool.

You do? Amy was sitting up in excitement.

Yes, we do, Tim agreed as he slowed down and prepared to make the turn onto Lovettsville Road.

How far is your house now? Molly inquired.

Actually, we’re here, Tim said as he made the sharp left turn and began the long climb up the driveway.

Are you rich, Tim? Molly asked as the gate swung open.

Not really, Tim responded. It’s kind of a long story. Katie will explain it to you.

Who’s Katie? Amy wanted to know.

Katie works with me...and here she is.

Katie McNamara was standing in front of the house. She was dressed in fatigue pants, military boots, and a United States Marshals tee shirt. She also wore her Glock 19 9 mm holstered on her right side.

Tim thought the gun might bother the girls, but they didn’t seem to care. Katie smiled and waved as Tim drove up to the front door. I was beginning to worry you three got caught in traffic, she called. So who do we have here?

This is Molly and Amy Wilson, Tim explained. Girls, this is Katie McNamara, the woman I told you about. Ms. McNamara is a United States Deputy Marshal.

My name is Katie, so please call me that, Katie added enthusiastically. Only my boss calls me Ms. McNamara.

What do the people you arrest call you? Molly asked somewhat sarcastically.

They usually call me bitch, but they use the F word before the bitch part, Katie shot back.

Both girls laughed, and Tim knew that Katie would have no trouble handling them.

Why don’t I take you two into the house and show you your rooms. Then I can show you around the property, and then maybe we’ll go for a swim? Katie asked, beginning to sound more like a camp counselor than a Federal Agent.

That would be great, Amy replied. Molly didn’t answer, but she also seemed to be slightly in awe of Katie. Tim could see that the Deputy Marshal had impressed the older girl.

Grab your backpacks, and I’ll meet you in the house, Katie ordered as she walked over to Tim. So did they give you any trouble on the ride home? she asked in a lower voice.

They did a good job of tag-teaming me with questions, Tim replied. I guess we—or you—should tell them what we do here...but keep it soft. What I mean is, tell them that we protect nice people as opposed to helping mob guys hide out.  

Even Katie laughed at that. Don’t worry, boss. I have two sisters and two brothers, and I’m the oldest, she explained with pride. If nothing else, I know how to entertain kids.

Katie turned and followed the girls into what was now known as the main house—the house where Tim and Mary Ann lived. Occasionally, others would stay in the free bedrooms, but most of the Witness Protection guests stayed in the other house. It was just safer for everyone that way.

God, Katie was the oldest of five kids. What family had five kids these days? Tim wondered if Katie’s family was of the Mormon faith...but if that were true, she didn’t follow many tenets of that religion—at least the parts about abstaining from alcohol and tobacco. Tim had caught Katie smoking one time, which appeared to embarrass her, but Tim said nothing. He was an ex-smoker himself, and he knew the value of using smoking as a tool to help with stress. However, he had also witnessed too many friends die of smoking-related illnesses to know it just wasn’t worth it in the long run.

Tim pulled out his iPhone to check for messages and saw a text from Mary Ann: Something came up. Will not be home until morning, call me.

Well, that was just fucking great.

Tim pressed the speed-dial number that was programed for his girlfriend’s phone, and Mary Ann pick up on the first ring. Hey honey, she said quickly. There was a shooting at a mosque in Woodbridge, which is only ten miles from here. They want me to take some students over there to observe.

Is there any danger? Tim asked.

No, single gunman who’s been apprehended. One dead, three wounded. We are calling it a hate crime. Didn’t you hear about this? I figured NPR would be all over this one.

No, we didn’t listen to the radio because your children were giving me the third degree.

Really? What did you tell them?

It was more like what they told me. Apparently, you only keep boyfriends for one to two years. If that’s the case, we should be getting ready to break up, Tim answered, half joking, half not.

The comment was met with fifteen seconds of silence, and Tim began to feel that maybe he was headed for a breakup. Then Mary Ann spoke.

Tim, I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I love you more now than ever.

Tim could tell that she was starting to cry, which had never been his intention. I do need to speak with you about something, Mary Ann added wetly, but it’s not about breaking up. Unless you want to break up. Do you?

Honey, the phase ‘breaking up with Mary Ann’ is not even in my vocabulary, Tim said, trying to lighten the mood.

Okay. That’s a relief. How did we go to such a dark place?

Your two daughters took us there.

Oh yes, Molly and Amy. How are my two darlings?

They are off playing with Katie.

And how is that going?

So far, great. They both really seem to like her.

Yeah, I bet. My boyfriend likes her, too.

She’s a kid, Mary Ann, Tim objected. She’s closer to Molly’s age than to mine.

Tim suddenly felt depressed by this, but it was true. At sixty, Tim was beginning to feel like he was older than everybody around him, and he did not like it one bit. More and more, he was discovering that he was old enough to be someone’s grandfather...but what was really funny was that Tim did not feel much older than thirty five. Sure, he was a lot wiser and knew things that he hadn’t known at thirty five, such as not to sit at a bar all day long, get drunk, and tell people your life story. Anyway, a guy getting smashed in a bar after the age of forty just looked pathetic. Tim just wished it had not taken him to the age of fifty to figure that one out.

She may be a kid, Tim, but she’s hot for you. Women can tell these things. Besides you don’t really look like you are sixty years old. I’m sure you could pass for fifty eight.

Very funny, honey, Tim replied dryly.

Anyhow, I got to go, Mary Ann said, suddenly sounding distracted. I’m still at the crime scene and shouldn’t be talking to my boyfriend—who by the way looks like he’s maybe forty nine.

Yeah, me and Jack Benny.

"Who is Jack