...August 11th...2015...

..Coos Bay, Oregon...

"Hey Pete WarHeart," Joy said, over the phone.

Pete takes a complete 90 degree turn in his rolling dark chair  putting his left hand on the desk raising a brow.

"Joy?" Pete said.

"That's me!" Joy said.

"Usually I am the one calling you," Pete said, amused picking up a blue cup and takes a sip out of it lowering his brow. "What is  the call for?"

"I need a little favor," Joy said.

Pete nearly spits out what he is drinking.

"I do not give favors to some girl," Pete said, putting down the blue cup.

"Pete," Joy growls. "Do not give that crap."

Pete laughs.

"You caught me, Salamanders," Pete said. "I am not going to help you assassinate again."

Joy has a light laugh.

"You are mad," Joy said. "I am not calling you for THAT. I am calling in for a different favor."

"Long as I am not in the middle of a murder; sure can do," Pete said.

"You have a friend in the CIA, right?" Joy asks.

"Yeah," Pete said. "But that was a one time deal."

"I need you to send a message to CIA Agent Hank Arnolds," Joy said. "And send a box that will be right at your door."

Knock,knock,knock.

"Well," Pete said, with a whistle.  "That was quick."

Pete gets up, walks around the desk, and goes through the threshold between the living room and the Writer's Den. Pete takes a reasonable amount of steps then takes a turn to the right near the couch heading  towards the door.

"And who is Hank Arnolds?" Pete asks.

"A friend," Joy said.

"What about Janet, Clark, Tom, and Foster?" Pete asks.

"They are not in my interest," Joy said.

"Janet is a chemical engineer," Pete said, opening the door. "I am sure there is--" Pete stops hearing ticking coming from a box. "Did you hear me when I said 'no murder'?"

"You are not going to be in it," Joy said. "I want you to listen carefully...And very carefully."

She acted so casual and sincere.

What kind of mess has Joy gotten herself into?

"Get two boxes, put the box into the 1st box and then put the box into the second box," Joy instructs Pete. 

"Where are you,Salamanders?" Pete asks.

"I cannot disclose that," Joy said.

Pete picks up the box and shuts the door behind him.

"What has gotten into you?" Pete asks, putting the box down on the kitchen table.

Man is Pete glad his mom has taken his daughter to Ireland for her birthday.

"I have to do this one last favor," Joy said. "I made a deal with some one over my life," Pete gets out two boxes varying in sizes from the closet. Joy sighs sounding a little disappointed in herself. "Not my best decision of all time. I can't get out of it."

Pete puts the box into the 1st small box and  then puts it into a thick second box where the ticking has become mute.

"You know I have to call this in and report this?" Pete asks.

"I know," Joy said. "Pete, whatever happens next, I am sorry for what has to be done."

Pete gets out a slip of paper and duck tape.

"Tell me the address," Pete said.

"Here goes nothing..." Joy said.

Instead of writing the designated address Joy wanted; Pete wrote down for one in Nevada in the middle of no where  and drew doodles all around the very important slip of paper. Pete nods then clicks the pen listening to Joy. Pete tapes the box up then clips it off.

"Now, you have to type this message," Joy said.

"Why?"  Pete asks, finding it odd.

"Keep asking and you are going to die," Joy said.

"Just answer my innocent question," Pete said.

"People will find me and Crane quicker if they have my handwriting in tow," Joy explains. "And a envelope is easily traceable."

"Riiight," Pete said, going to the computer in the Writer's Den.

Pete gets into his chair.

"Believe me, Pete," Joy said. "I hate to do this."

"We all do," Pete said.

Joy sighs and then tells Pete the message.