The Arcturus Man

  She pulled into the dirt parking lot beside Ashley’s. She stayed inside her car for a while…thinking. John Cabet and Connie Goldman took her to dinner at Ashley’s last night, and now she was back to meet Jared for breakfast. It could have been romantic. This is where she and Jared first met, albeit she didn’t know it at the time. Maybe it will be special again. It’s all up to Jared. Their relationship was slowly coming apart before this all started. Maybe they can put it back together again. It’s all up to Jared. After all, he was the one who was driving her away from him. She loved him so much more than he loved her. Of that she was certain. But she was here now and he was sitting inside waiting for her.

  Jenny never paid that much attention to how Ashley’s looked. Now, for some reason, she stared at the building. All of the wood parts had turned to winter grey. The windows would never clean clear. You could wash them until they looked better, but they would never be really clear. The glass was etched by years of hard times. The roof lost the gutters to ice and snow, who knows how many years ago. The ice and snow could take anything down if you weren’t strong. It could take people down.

  Everything in Maine showed signs of many hard winters, especially the people! They learned how to endure without complaining, but the long hard winters left marks that stayed a lifetime. In men who worked the sea, it was on their faces and in how they spoke—or what they didn’t say. In men who worked the forests, it was in their hands and stooped shoulders and that they were silent at night when they finally were home. In the women who waited for their men, it was in their souls. Loneliness and hard work made resolute women in Maine. Jenny was soft and yielding. She couldn’t last a hard winter in Maine. She now understood that about herself. She didn’t understand that before, but she did now.

  She reached for the door handle, hesitated, and then finally opened the door. She walked in.

  “Morning, Jenny,” said Ashley.

  “Good morning, Ashley,” said Jenny and smiled as best she could manage.

  The restaurant was full for breakfast. Her wild blueberry pancakes were renowned in these parts. She saw Jared sitting near a window in the back. No one knew that she had been kidnapped, but they all knew about Jared. They saw in the news that he had shot himself in the head in Boston and was pronounced dead. Yet, here he was. They knew that the bodies of dead men were discovered by the police on Eagle’s Head and that his house burned to the ground. They had vaguer notions that the police suspected him of killing some professor in Boston. Yet, here he was. Being good Mainers, it was none of their damn business.

  Jenny walked over to the table. The booths were tight so Jared didn’t stand up. Jenny slid in on the opposite side. Everyone in the restaurant was looking at them, trying not to make it obvious. She wondered if he would have gotten up to hug and kiss her if they were alone in the restaurant. Probably not. That aspect of his personality hadn’t ever bothered her all this time that they had been together. She never even thought about it much. But it did bother her now. Everything was changed in the last few months. “You look good Jenny. I worried about you,” said Jared.

  Ashley walked over.

  “Coffee?”

  “That would be great,” said Jenny.

  Ashley walked away.

  “Aren’t you eating?” asked Jenny.

  “Ashley knows what I order. It’s always the same.”

  “Oh,”

  “I’m not going to ask you what happened, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” said Jared.

  “Good. I don’t want to talk about it…not right now at least,” said Jenny. She was relieved. She needed personal privacy now more than anything and that was impossible whenever she was with Jared.

  “How’s Krissy?” asked Jared.

  “She’s fine…actually better than fine. As I think you know, she decided to keep the baby. You may not know that she and Jake are getting married. The wedding will be right after Labor Day. I think she could do much better than Jake Herman, but she thinks she’s in love with him. I keep wondering if she would still feel the same if she wasn’t expecting. Mom and I talked about it and we agreed not to meddle. She has to cultivate her own garden.”

  “Candide. I like how Voltaire ended the story…the best of all possible worlds,” said Jared.

  “Jake is not the best of all possible worlds,” said Jenny.

  “You don’t understand what Voltaire is saying,” said Jared.

  “Don’t start,”

  “Fine,” said Jared. He stared out the window and then looked back at Jenny. The morning sun was shining through the window. Her hair glowed in the sunlight. It brought back the images of when he first saw Jenny. She was walking away from the restaurant when that magnificent bottom attracted his attention.

  “I was so worried about you Jenny. I am so happy that you’re…”

  She spoke over him. “I know. I know.”

  “Just say you love me,” she thought.

  He sensed that, but said nothing. The words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

  “Did John tell you about Rubio Matos?” asked Jenny.

  “Yes,” said Jared.

  “And about the traitor close to you?”

  “That as well,” said Jared.

  “Do you know who the traitor is?” asked Jenny.

  “I think so.”

  “You do know that Rubio saved my life,” said Jenny.

  “Yes, I know about that as well. He is an interesting person,” said Jared.

  “I didn’t understand him. He was so gentle and caring in dealing with me. There was a man dead on the ground that he had just…executed. It’s like two different people,” said Jenny.

  “Everyone has a dark side,” said Jared.

  Jenny thought about Jared’s dark side of the moon. Has she ever seen it? Seen all of it? She didn’t know.

  Ashley brought over their breakfasts and filled their coffee cups. They ate mostly in silence. Neither knew what to say or how to say it. They talked a little from time to time about mundane things. Jenny’s mother was feeling her age. Jenny was going to get reinstated as a GEMS scholar in the Sea Grants Program. Krissy’s wedding was discussed for a while. Jared offered to pay for everything. Jenny didn’t think he should but she would let Krissy make that decision on her own. Finally, she put down her coffee cup and stared into Jared’s eyes.

  “Jared…Is it over?”

  “No, it’s not over. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Dead Reckoning

  Portland, Maine – The Jetport – September 2014 Early Evening

  Jared, John, and Brett were waiting on the upper level, just outside the security checkpoint. The United flight landed on time. Brett glanced at the long lines waiting to get through security. He expected it to be busy on Labor Day, but this was ridiculous.

  “That is unexpected for a small airport like this,” said Brett, pointing to the lines. “The airport administration still feels guilty because some of the 9/11 terrorists came through Portland,” said Jared.

  “Heck. There isn’t an airport in the country that would have caught those guys,” said John.

  “Big fish. Small pond. You know how that goes,” said Brett.

  Franklin Reisinger walked through the double-glass doors into the public area of the terminal. He looked different. Jared noticed that he was wearing an expensive Hickey Freeman suit, a dark Navy with faint grey lines. Everyone was copying Anderson. Reisinger’s suit was more expensive than Brett’s Hickey Freeman, who also just started wearing them, but Brett wore his with class. Reisinger looked like a much younger John Comfort Anderson. This is the first time Jared saw Reisinger in a Hickey Freeman. He thought that it was fascinating that everyone was wearing Anderson’s brand—except Jared, of course.

  Reisinger went over the top, however. He had a pocket square and an old fashioned tie bar. He saw a flash of a Rolex. Here was Reisinger’s new image as he remembered it from by-gone days. It was his languishing image of a wealthy and powe
rful man. The shoes were Johnston Murphy. They didn’t have a single scuff on them. Jared was surprised that Reisinger wasn’t wearing a hat. That would have been very sixties. Jared began to understand what was motivating Reisinger. He was regressing. That was very interesting.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Siemels. Agent Cabet, I know you. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of previously meeting this gentleman,” said Reisinger.

  Brett extended his hand. “I am Brett Koutsanoudis, attorney at law.”

  They all shook hands. John led the way down the stairs to the luggage arrival area.

  “I’ll get the car and bring it around. I just parked over there in the cell phone waiting area,” said John.

  “Excellent. I only have a small bag. Airport security being what it is these days, I check everything now,” said Reisinger.

  “You better hurry, John. They tow unattended cars from that lot—more importantly, it’s my car that will be towed,” said Jared.

  John rushed out. The others stood at the carousel, waiting for the bags to start popping out.

  “I wasn’t expecting a committee Mr. Siemels. That is so formal. May I call you Jared,” said Reisinger.

  “Of course, Franklin,” said Jared.

  “Can we go somewhere where we can…all…talk privately?” asked Franklin.

  “I thought we could ALL go to the Maine Mall, it’s only a few minutes away. There’s a Sbarros that’s rarely full. There’s also a Ruby Tuesdays. Places fill up fast around here during the dinner hour,” said Brett.

  “I do like pizza, mind you, but surely we can do a little better than that. My treat,” said Franklin.

  “Well, of course, if you don’t mind a little drive,” said Brett.

  “I suggest On the Marsh, in Kennebunk. I think you know the place Brett,” said Jared. It’s actually almost in Kennebunkport

  “Yes, it is an excellent restaurant. They have a great wine cellar. As good as anything in D.C.,” said Brett.

  Reisinger’s bag came out of the swinging doors. He caught it in a few steps. They all walked out to the arrival pickup area. John was waiting for them. His badge was strategically placed on the wind shield so the airport cops were sure to see it. Reisinger lit up as soon as he got outside. Everyone waited until he finished his cigarette. They piled into Jared’s Lexus LS-600H.

  “This is the 2013, isn’t it?” asked Reisinger.

  “Yes, I just traded in my LS-460.”

  “I’ve been thinking about this car just this week. This has Bluetooth® technology and voice-activated navigation, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes it does. Would you like to see it?” asked Jared. “This particular system is hacked frequently so I added my own fire walls.”

  “I would, but later. We have a lot to talk about,” said Reisinger.

  They talked in the car as they drove, but it was still all pleasantries. No one was ready to break the ice. Reisinger had years of practice in this manner of conversation. It was called establishing rapport. Spies were excellent conversationalists.

  John drove out of the airport and in a few minutes they were on 95 going south. He pulled off at exit 25 and drove east on Route 35 that eventually joined 9A. The restaurant was on the outskirts of Kennebunkport on Western Avenue, better known by the locals as Route 9. The restaurant looked like a large, elegant country home. From the time they left the airport, they were parked in about 45 minutes.

  They all climbed out of the car. They began to talk in the parking lot while Reisinger smoked another cigarette, but the mosquitoes drove them into the restaurant before he finished. It was on the marsh, as advertised.

  They didn’t have reservations but the pretty young woman at the reception stand immediately recognized Jared and gathered four leather-bound menus without saying a word. She led them to a quiet table, away from other guests. Jared nodded his appreciation.

  They ordered drinks. Jared requested a Gibson and everyone followed suit.

  “I’m afraid that you’re still on the no-fly list Jared. The bureaucrats at TSA won’t budge, not even for the CIA,” said Reisinger.

  “That’s a trifle Franklin. I’ll charter for the time being,” said Jared.

  “You know what TSA stands for, don’t you?” asked Franklin surveying the entire dinner party. “It’s thousands standing around.”

  No one laughed, but everyone smiled. It was getting less tense. Reisinger was shaping them for serious negotiations. He was good at this.

  “For the life of me I cannot understand how we can be pouring billions into airport security and at the same time intellectually disassociate ourselves from the abysmally low quality of the personnel implementing the security program. Some of these people can barely speak English, including many born and raised in the United States. And we give them so much power. I showed them my credentials but do you think anyone one of those morons showed me any professional courtesy. Think again. And the air marshals…that takes the cake. You aren’t supposed to know who on an air craft is an air marshal, but leave it to the bureaucrats to screw up something that should be so simple. You just have to look for the guy with the spit shined shoes and G.I. haircut,” said Reisinger.

  “You get what you pay for,” said John.

  “They could afford Harvard graduates with just a fraction of the money they’ve thrown at the problem,” said Brett.

  “Absolutely right! Ignorance and incompetence are also the primary reasons why I can’t get you off of that damned no-fly list. They have that thing so screwed up that no one wants to touch it,” said Reisinger. He felt very defensive about not having enough influence to do this favor for Jared. It was a low card in the deck and he needed aces. He turned his head. Someone was standing behind him.

  “Mr. Siemels, it is such a pleasure.” The executive chief, Jeffrey Savage, was taking their orders personally.

  “Jeffrey, it is our pleasure,” said Jared.

  “Our special this evening is the seared Hokkaido sea scallops and lobster risotto, with brandied lobster stock, watercress, rice wine vinegar and truffle oil.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Jeffrey,” said Jared. Everyone nodded approval.

  “And may I start you off with the Québec Foie Gras Torchon? I recall that it is one of your favorites, Mr. Siemels.”

  “By all means,” said Jared. “And, Jeffrey, please select the wines for us this evening.”

  “Neat,” said Brett.

  “With pleasure gentlemen,” said Jeffrey. He pivoted and was gone.

  “Let’s get to the purpose of this meeting, Franklin,” said Jared. “What do you know about Penkovskiy? He’s gay?”

  Reisinger’s eyes narrowed. He was startled by the question. He heard about Jared’s abilities, but he was experiencing it personally now. It was unnerving.

  “Yes, Penkovskiy is gay. Putin is homophobic in a major way. In as much as Putin used to have Penkovskiy’s position while he was assigned to Dresden, it is almost a personal insult. We have video tape of one of Penkovskiy’s encounters. He is finished. He should never trouble you again.”

  “Now that Zhidov is dead, you don’t have to worry about the Russians anymore,” said John.

  “I already told John and Brett about this, but you should know that before he died Zhidov confessed that there was a traitor close to me,” said Jared.

  “I know about that. The Bureau thinks its John,” said Reisinger.

  “I know they thought that, but it’s ridiculous. It’s not John,” said Jared. “John was conniving at little behind my back to get me to give the government the details to my weapons detection patent, but he did that as a matter of patriotism. He also knew that I would know so it wasn’t even a betrayal, not to mention that he thought that it would be in my best interests.”

  “Ditto,” said John.

  “I assumed as much, but he has a reputation for being a maverick so it isn’t difficult to stretch that to being the traitor,” said Reisinger.

  “I’m resigning anyway.
What does it matter,” said John.

  “I would do that,” said Reisinger. They’re going to push you out regardless so leaving on your own power is a wise move.”

  “Do you know who the traitor is?” asked Reisinger.

  “Yes, I know who it is,” said Jared.

  “When were you planning to tell us?” asked Brett.

  “I wanted to be sure before I said anything. Now I am sure,” said Jared. He had shared this insight with John but neglected to say anything to Brett. It was just an oversight.

  “Well who is it?” asked Brett.

  “It’s Hamid Mashhadi,” said Jared. “If fact, he is the reason I ended up on the nofly list. He is suspected by Homeland Security of having ties to Al Queada, if he isn’t actually a card-carrying member. My name shows up on his contact list.”

  “No shit?” said Brett.

  “Thanks for the tip, Jared,” said Reisinger. “We did our homework. He lost his sister in the Israeli bombings of Beirut. She was living in the Hezbollah part of Beirut and refused to evacuate. There was a great deal of damning information in the file that was dated many years earlier, but until we recently connected some dots, it had been stamped NPII by the analysts…that is to say, no pertinent identifiable information. They hadn’t tied it to Mashhadi.” said Reisinger. “Now we are certain it was him.”

  “I’m confident that his sister’s death was the prime motivator for going off the deep end. Dieter Steinmeier is my financial manager. He works out of Zurich and has the entrée into all of the major private banks in Switzerland. As the saying goes, you follow the money. Once we had one leg of this octopus, it wasn’t difficult for Dieter to find the other legs. Sami was receiving regular payments from Bin Laden money stashed in Zurich. And who was sending the money to Sami…Hamid,” said Jared.

  “Holy Shit,” said Brett. I just talked to Hamid yesterday trying to get some backup for the appeal I’m filing to get your patent released by the Feds.”

  “Oh that. You don’t need to bother. I had that lifted this morning,” said Reisinger.