by Erin Wade
Mecca looked embarrassed. The harsh guttural language was not what she had expected. “I am so sorry,” she replied in flawless German, “I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m afraid I ruined your dance.” Mecca looked around for her partner, but she had moved on to another dancer.
“Where are my manners,” she smiled, “I am Mecca Storm, New Yorker.”
“I’m Isa Friedman,” Jericho smiled. “I’m attached to the German embassy.”
“Friedman; peace maker,” Mecca cocked her head to one side and studied Isa’s blue eyes and magnificent mane of blonde hair. “Are you a peace maker, Miss Friedman?”
“Mecca, there you are,” Kadence strode toward them. “I have to meet with someone for about thirty minutes. Will you be okay?”
“Kadence, I’d like you to meet Isa Friedman. She’s with the German embassy.” Mecca was still speaking German.
“Nice to meet you,” Kadence shook Jericho’s hand.
“She doesn’t speak English,” Mecca informed her friend.
“Would you just keep an eye on my friend?” Kadence’s German was impeccable too. “I have to attend to something quickly. I’ll be right back, Mecca.”
Kadence disappeared as the band started another dance number.
“Would you like to dance?” Jericho asked as Mecca looked up at her. For the first time, she realized Mecca had the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. They reminded her of blue ice except for the hint of laughter that made them mesmerizing.
Jericho took both her hands and led Mecca onto the dance floor. Thanks to the agency’s insistence that she be able to fit in anywhere, in any situation, Jericho was an accomplished dancer. Although she had complained loudly during her lessons, she did enjoy dancing.
Jericho enjoyed Mecca’s look of surprise as she deftly led her around the dance floor. Fortunately, Salsa dancing was not conducive to conversation. The dance ended, and she turned preparing to make her exit, but Mecca caught her hand as the band began playing a slow number.
Everything in her screamed she should not hold Mecca Storm in her arms, but when has good sense ever overcome desire? More than anything, she wanted to hold her.
“How long have you been in New York?”
“No English,” Jericho shook her head, and Mecca repeated her question in German.
“Six weeks,” she smiled, “I’ll be going home at the end of the month.”
Mecca stopped talking and enjoyed the pleasure of following a strong dancer. Jericho held her tightly, her hand at the small of Mecca’s back forcing her to follow every move her body made. Most of Mecca’s partners had a tendency to let her lead. She knew no one would ever lead Isa Friedman.
“Perhaps, I can show you around our fair city,” Mecca offered as they made their way to one of the tables on the far side of the dance floor.
“I would very much like that,” Jericho smiled. “May I get you something to drink?”
Mecca watched her as she walked away. She was the right height and weight. She had imagined her as dark, but she was blonde. Her German had no American accent. That confused her. If she could get her alone, she would know for sure. She had no qualms about using her abilities to find out the truth when needed.
When Jericho returned with their drinks, Kadence was sitting at the table laughing with Mecca. “With the commitment I just received from the chairman of Toyota, I believe we have enough money for the new wing,” Kadence almost giggled. She was as giddy as a small girl with a new puppy.
Mecca hugged her arm, “Kadence, you are amazing. I don’t know of anyone as dedicated as you.”
“With Lockleer in the White House it has certainly been difficult to get corporate America to open their checkbooks,” Kadence commented. “It’s hard to get anyone to let go of a dollar. No one knows what will happen next, so everyone is hanging onto their money.
“The Japanese are still furious with him for the phony recall he made right after his election. Everyone knew it was just to pay off the unions for their campaign support. You know, discredit Toyota and encourage Americans to buy U.S. made automobiles.
“It only took the administration two years to admit they could find no fault with the Toyotas on which they forced the recall.”
Jericho sat the drinks down on the table and took a chair next to Mecca. Mecca stood and excused herself. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t go away.”
“Your wife is very beautiful,” Jericho was trying to gauge the depth of Kadence’s feelings for Mecca.
“Oh, I wish,” Kadence watched her walk away. “We have been friends for many years. College, med school, and residency. I’m afraid I was quite a hell raiser. Too many times, Mecca and her sister washed the vomit off me after frat parties to consider me marriage material.”
Jericho was relieved when Mecca reappeared. She never liked to let the brunette out of her sight, especially at a gathering of politicians. She watched her walk toward them and was surprised to see the President grasp her by the arm and pull her close to him. He was leaning down and talking into her ear so no one else could hear what he was telling her. It was obvious she did not like what he was saying. True hatred flashed across her face and then was gone. Turning to face him, she raised her free arm and placed her hand on the President’s forearm. He seemed to freeze in mid-sentence. She spoke several words to him then removed his hand from her arm. She walked away while he was still trying to talk to her. Jericho had no idea that her influence reached presidents.
Mecca rejoined them, sitting close to Kadence. She placed her hand on Kadence’s arm drawing her full attention to her. It was like watching a snake charmer.
“Kadence, I’m so proud of you,” Mecca said softly, “I don’t know what our profession would do without dedicated women like you.”
Jericho watched closely, fascinated by the way she had Kadence under her control. Thinking Jericho didn’t understand English, she made a suggestion to Kadence, “I know you need to stay and visit with others. I’m ready to leave, and Isa has offered to see me home if you don’t mind.”
Kadence looked at Jericho as if seeing her for the first time, “Miss. Friedman, I need to visit with some other people, would it be possible for you to see Mecca home?”
Jericho shrugged, “No English.”
Kadence repeated her question in German and Jericho smiled and nodded yes. Kadence hugged Mecca, “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if I still have the Midas touch.” She headed for the bar.
“Would you like to go somewhere quiet?” Mecca suggested. “There’s a little German pub not far from here. I think you’ll like it.”
“I would like that very much,” Jericho agreed.
As they walked, Mecca looped her arm through Jericho’s and asked her about her home. Fortunately, Jericho had been stationed in Germany for three years and was well versed in the history and culture of the country.
“I spent two years in Germany working with one of your top research scientists,” Mecca said.
“You’re a scientist?” Jericho steered the conversation toward her. She had no idea about Germany’s top research scientists.
“Oh, no,” Mecca laughed.
Jericho saw German writing heralding the location of “America’s best German pub.” Mecca was right. The pub was quiet and intimate. They slid into a booth and ordered a drink.
“Have you eaten?” Jericho asked. She knew Mecca hadn’t, and she was starving. They ordered the pub’s specialty and began the process of getting to know one another. It didn’t take her long to realize that Mecca was very private, great at small talk but not one to share important details.
“I couldn’t help noticing your encounter with the President,” Jericho watched her face for a reaction. “He seemed to be bothering you.”
“Oh, no he wasn’t bothering me,” Mecca lied. “I just don’t like anyone who works to destroy my country. He and I have nothing in common. I certainly didn’t want him touching me. But
enough about me, I want to hear about you.”
Mecca placed her hand on Jericho’s arm, leaned across the table, and looked into her eyes. Mecca’s eyes held Jericho’s as she spoke in the same even, soothing voice she had used on Kadence. Jericho knew she could get lost in those blue eyes. The light in them was captivating. Mecca was hypnotizing her. Fortunately, Jericho was not susceptible to hypnosis. Whether it was the small metal plate in her head or the mind techniques she had often used to ease the terror in Afghanistan, there was no way anyone would ever hypnotize Jericho Parker. Nevertheless, it would be good to let Mecca think she was under her power. She sat without moving and let her body relax.
“Do you like America,” Mecca said in English testing Jericho’s claim to speak only German.
She didn’t answer and Mecca repeated the question in German.
“Yes.”
“Do you have my phone number?”
“No.”
“Were you at the hospital when Jane Doe was attacked?”
“No.”
She removed her hand from Jericho’s arm and said, “It’s late. I should be getting home.”
“I’ll see you home,” Jericho signaled the waitress for the check.
“No need. I will catch a cab,” Mecca stood, “It was nice to meet you, Isa. I hope you enjoy our city.” She walked out the door before the server returned with Jericho’s credit card.
Jericho had the driver drop her a couple of blocks from her apartment building. She didn’t want to run the risk of encountering Mecca. As she entered her apartment, her phone began to vibrate.
“Hello,” she answered in her sleepiest voice, and Mecca hung up.
Jericho knew she’d dodged a bullet. She was pleased with how she had handled the situation. She was sure Mecca would not connect Isa Friedman with her. She made a mental note to keep as much distance between herself and Mecca Storm as possible. She could hear Mecca pacing the floor above her. The usually calm and collected doctor was angry. Mecca called Jericho again.
“Who are you,” she demanded.
“Listen, lady,” Jericho used her sleepiest, annoyed voice, “it’s after midnight. My job description doesn’t include taking late night calls from drunk, spoiled, rich girls. Sleep it off.” She hung up.
##
Jericho unlocked her desk and took out Mecca’s file. She had read it from cover to cover but could find no reason the government would spend millions to protect the brilliant doctor. Protect her from what?
From what she had witnessed, Mecca was quite capable of taking care of herself. Jericho perused Mecca’s photos for the millionth time. None of them had prepared her for those incredible eyes.
Mecca went onto her terrace. She loved New York, the city that never sleeps, how appropriate, she thought. She loved the Hudson River, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She had dedicated her life to preserving the America in which she grew up. She wondered what her unknown friend had dedicated her life to; law enforcement perhaps. She had certainly been a wealth of information over the past five years, but she didn’t understand why she hadn’t been allowed to meet her, know her. Why she insisted on keeping her distance from her.
Mecca was irritated that she had called her a spoiled, rich girl. She wondered if that was what she thought of her or if she was just trying to create a rift between them.
Now that she knew what her informant looked like, maybe she would be able to find her. She was far more attractive than Mecca had expected. Mecca involuntarily shuttered recalling the woman’s hand on the small of her back. She tried to push the thoughts of being in her arms from her mind.
Foolish woman! She honestly thought I believed her hypnotized, Mecca thought. For the first time in her life, Mecca had encountered someone she couldn’t hypnotize and it made her more curious than ever.