by J J Cooper
'How the hell can that happen?'
'I do – did – belong to a secret intelligence agency. They can do such things quite easily.'
Jay thought about his question. He'd been focused on planning for a confrontation of a different kind. 'Sorry, stupid comment.'
'What's on your mind?' she asked.
He appreciated her asking and realised that without Sarah, outcomes might have been very different. She had already proved a valuable ally. 'You know how it is when you send a report, and then instantly regret it?'
'Kind of.'
'I mean, the information I got from the Iraqi was pure gold. I actually thought it could stop the ground invasion of Iraq. But then I thought that it might just re-focus hostilities elsewhere. Shit, at that stage I didn't know what I was thinking. It came down to me doing my job and letting those responsible make the right decisions. Did they? I still don't know. All I know is that somehow since then I've been waiting for it to blow up in my face.'
'Is that the reason you never changed jobs? Came across to the Agency?'
'Yeah. I suppose I didn't want to carry the baggage around any further. Besides, I can only do operational. I look at your job, somewhere between strategic and operational. Just not for me. Then there would be the living-in-my-dad's-shadow type of thing. As far as I can tell, he was the best. Would you guys have expected that of me?'
'As far as I can tell, you're better. I have never heard anyone speak of you in anything less than glowing terms.'
'You haven't met the Primroses yet.'
'Serious, Jay. When you interrogated me that day I was ready to give it up and walk away from the job. I was embarrassed, confused and feeling downright silly. You got me good. But then I sat down and played back exactly what had happened. I recalled every word and every move you made. I dissected it and analysed it. I researched and read everything I could find on interrogation techniques. I spent six months mulling over that single interrogation. And you know what? I concluded that it was near perfect. You showed me the best interrogation someone could experience. Just so happens that I was the subject, but I could learn from it. So from there I set myself a challenge – to be as good as Jay Ryan. I've got a long way to go, but I was hoping you could teach me a few more things before we get executed.'
Jay smiled. 'You're keeping me on track, you know? I've gotta stop feeling sorry for myself and start fighting back. I'm glad you stuck around, Sarah.'
'So am I.'
Their eyes met. The electricity between them could have powered a small city. Sarah got up from the lounge and joined him on the bed. She took his hand and bent forward to kiss him.
Jay pulled away.
Sarah frowned. 'What's wrong?'
'Are sure you want this? I mean, I haven't got the best track record.'
She put her finger to her lips for his silence. Then she lifted his chin and brought his lips to hers.
THIRTY
Jay and Sarah lay together, smoking in the non-smoking room. A resurgence of energy ran through Jay. Perhaps Sarah was the one.
Sarah propped on her elbow facing Jay. She ran a finger down his chest. 'Tell me about Jay Ryan.'
'What do you want to know?'
'The stuff I can't find in an intelligence report. You know . . . your upbringing. What makes you tick? You never mention your mum.'
Jay smiled. Normally people are sad when they reminisce about loved ones who've passed on. Not Jay. 'For the first seven years of my life it was mainly Mum and me. Dad was away a lot on Agency business. Mum didn't mind. She knew what he did. And I thought it was cool that my dad was a spy. Although it ate at me that I was sworn to secrecy and couldn't brag about it to anyone, except Mum of course. We would talk and talk about Dad while he was away, making up stories about how he was saving the world, catching bad guys and putting them away.'
'From what I've heard, that's exactly what he was doing.'
'I reckon so.' Jay took a drag of his cigarette. The smoke hung in the air, turned and dissipated as it hit the breeze from the opened window. 'One Mother's Day when I was seven, Dad was away again and I wanted to make it special for Mum. The day before, we went to the beach and played and built sandcastles and spent the whole day in the sun. You see, I wanted to wear her out. She always got up earlier than me and I wanted to surprise her with breakfast. I figured a day at the beach would make her sleep in.'
Sarah gently stroked Jay's hair as she listened intently.
'I was up just before the sun that Mother's Day. I grabbed a pair of scissors, and still in my pyjamas, raced across the street to get some red roses from Mrs Baxter's garden. I got quite a few pricks on my fingers that morning, but found the most beautiful flowers for Mum. I took them back, and because I didn't want to risk breaking one of Mum's vases, I emptied half a jar of Vegemite, cleaned it out and put the flowers in it. Made quite a mess too.'
'Why didn't you just use a glass?'
Jay glanced at Sarah. She wasn't joking. 'I was seven.'
Sarah bit her lip and Jay continued. 'Anyway, I made some toast and a cup of coffee.'
'Strong and milky?' Sarah asked.
Jay smiled. 'Exactly. I waited and waited. As the coffee went cold I made another, and another. By the fourth cup I figured I'd let her sleep in long enough and put the cold toast, flowers and coffee on a tray and carried it to her room. I was so quiet. I placed the tray on her bedside table, snuck around to the other side of the bed and crawled in under the sheets with her. I gave her a big hug and kiss and said happy Mother's Day. When I didn't get a response, I knew something was wrong.'
Jay reached over and placed his cigarette in the empty Coke can. He lay back and placed his hands behind his head.
'The doctors said she passed away quietly in her sleep. They couldn't explain why someone so young and healthy would have had a massive heart attack.
'After that I suppose I crawled into a shell. It took a long time for me to understand that I hadn't caused it by taking her to the beach that day and wearing her out. Dad got a desk job and we became very close. The Agency was flexible with his hours and Dad understood that he needed to be there for me. He never brought another woman home, and as far as I know, he never let another one in his life. We got through the hard times together. Dad and I would talk about Mum the way Mum and I had discussed Dad when he was away. We'd sit out on the balcony of a night staring at the sky wondering what Mum would be up to.'
Jay looked over and Sarah had tears streaming down her cheeks. She leant over and kissed him gently. They hugged for what seemed an eternity. Jay thought about his father and how he now felt lost without him. He kissed Sarah on the forehead and made a move to get up.
Sarah hugged harder. 'Can't we just stay here and forget about the world?'
'We can, but the world won't forget about us.'
Sarah let go and Jay sat up. 'Can you order some room service? I'm going for a shower. Got to go downstairs shortly,' he said.
'Steak and salad OK?'
'Fine, thanks.' He walked into the bathroom and showered, pondering his odd union with Sarah. He had never told that story to anyone, yet he felt comfortable and somewhat relieved to have confided in Sarah. He wasn't sure why it was important, but decided to share the secret of the interrogation video with her as well. It seemed talking to Sarah about his mum had helped him, and maybe the regular nightmares would disappear if he shared this one secret that only he knew. He trusted her absolutely.
Sarah had found a robe and was lying on the bed watching the cable news when Jay walked into the room. He dressed in casual jeans and a jacket that Bill had bought for him. He placed one of the credit cards in the sole of his boot and some cash in his pocket.
'There's something I've never told anyone before,' he began.
'Hold on, handsome. It's a little early for the "I love you" speech.'
'No, not that. I recorded the Iraqi interrogation on video. Burnt it to CD and have kept a copy.'
Sarah paused for a mome
nt and then whistled. 'Holy shit. All this trouble for the document and you've got a video of the session. No wonder you haven't told anyone about it.' She sat up, deep in thought.
Jay sat on the bed next to her. 'I put it in the will, and I'm just letting you know in case . . . well, you know why.'
Sarah turned to face him. 'OK. Let's just leave it at that. I don't need to know where it is. As long as it's safe and secure.'
'It is.'
Jay moved toward the open windows. A slight breeze came through and he pulled the curtains aside, enough to view the bustling streets four storeys below. Directly across, a ramp fed evening commuters into Central train station. The station concourse weaved its way behind dated buildings and below the Sofitel. Jay wondered if a hitman lay in wait, ready to pounce at the stroke of midnight. Time would tell. He raised his wrist to check his watch, but again found himself looking at the tattoo instead. It reminded him of the vengeance he now sought. He shook his head and checked the other wrist. Five minutes until the meet to collect their weapons. He turned to Sarah. 'I'm heading down now.'
She crinkled her brow. 'I've been thinking. Is it me or does this seem a bit too easy, getting these weapons?'
'I did think about that, but it's Uncle Pat. You know how well he's connected. I assume you guys do this sort of thing all the time.'
'Not that easily. Granted, he could pull it off, but think about the timeframe he had to work with.'
'I can't be thinking of him like that. He's given us the warnings and credit cards, and now the contact for the weapons. We've gotta trust him.'
'Yeah, just be careful. Come straight back up. Dinner will be waiting.'
Jay gave a wry smile. 'Will you listen to yourself?'
'What?'
'Like a nagging wife already.'
She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He caught it and chuckled, admiring her beauty behind the blush. They laughed together, stopping briefly so Jay could lean in and kiss her on the lips. Her giggles continued as he grabbed the gift bag full of cash and left for his meet.
He closed the door behind him and looked down the hall. A door opened two along from him. He froze in his tracks. A man in a dark suit came into the hall and turned toward him. The man stopped when he saw Jay, stuck out his chest, ran a hand over his bald head and adjusted his tie. The hand slid inside his jacket, eyes fixed on Jay. 'Hey?' he said.
Jay couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Not now, he thought. Fight or flight. He clenched his fists and bounced forward toward his target. His only weapon, a bag full of cash.
'You got a light, mate?'
The question caused Jay to pull up a couple of steps from the man, heart-rate through the roof, fists locked to his side. The bag swung against his leg. 'What did you say?'
A packet of cigarettes appeared in the man's hand. He leaned back, as if expecting Jay to hit him. He held up his hands. 'Just a light, buddy.'
Unable to speak from surprise, Jay exhaled and shook his head. He stepped around the man, bypassed the lifts and headed down the hallway to the stairs. His heart continued to race and he knew his nerves were shattered. He made his way down to the lobby. He took comfort in the weapons waiting to be collected.
A concierge gave a courteous smile and received a nod in exchange. Jay continued past the service desk and through to the opulent hotel bar. The lights were dim and jazz oozed from hidden speakers. The look from the barmaid as he moved toward the bar indicated more than a standard welcome. He thought of Sarah and ordered a cola. The barmaid looked disappointed and fixed the drink. Jay turned his back to the bar and studied the sparse crowd. Two businessmen pored over a laptop in one corner, straining to see the screen. Two young ladies laughed politely at something a young man with spiky hair had said. Another man with a different shade of spiky hair joined them. Probably a double date.
Jay paid for the drink and sat at a table in the corner of the bar. He had a view of the two entrances, one from the lobby and one from the main street. Less than five minutes after being seated, the weapons dealer arrived. He wobbled over to Jay and perched on the arm of the chair. Jay felt like leaning over and pushing him off. It'd be like a turtle caught on its back.
'Good to go?' Jay asked.
'The goods are as requested but the price has inflated.'
Not good, Jay thought. 'Don't fuck me around. We had a deal.'
'Yes we did until I heard about the contract out there for you. I want another five K for the pistols and you can forget about the silencers.'
'You're dreaming, fat boy. Where are the fucking weapons? Don't be pissing me off.'
'That's the thing. I know what kind of bind you're in. You can't afford for me to say anything and you can't afford a commotion. So cough up with the extra cash, big shot.'
Jay clenched his fists under the table. He wanted to strangle the dealer, but the guy was right. He couldn't afford a commotion. 'You're going to have to wait a few days.'
'The word is you'll be dead by the morning. Cash now and you can have a couple of pistols to try and delay your imminent departure.'
Jay needed the pistols. 'All I have is a credit card. It's clean with a ten thousand limit.'
'How do I know it's clean with that much limit?'
'The same person who put me on to your sorry fat arse gave me the card. And I might add that he won't be happy when he finds out you'll be spending his money if I give the card to you.'
'I'll deal with that. Just give me the card and the cash you brought.'
'You can have the card, but I'm keeping the cash. Take it or leave it. Before you make that decision, know that if I go down I'll be dropping you into the equation to the cops, slim.'
The weapons dealer didn't reply. He looked toward the exit, considering his options. He turned his attention back to Jay and nodded. 'I'll let you keep the cash if the card is good for ten grand. If I find out it's not, I'll be collecting a reward for your whereabouts.'
The weapon's dealer gave a strange look as Jay bent down, removed his boot and retrieved the credit card. He slid the card across the table and put his boot back on. 'Where are the pistols?'
'In a locker across the road at the station. Locker number G7. The pin code is 4438.'
Jay didn't bother with any more talk or threats. He knew where to find the dealer if the pistols weren't there. He picked up the bag full of cash and walked out the front door. He wasn't happy with the transaction, but he needed the weapons.
THIRTY-ONE
Jay took the ramp leading to the train station concourse, overtaking three kids who shared an obsession with black clothing and facial piercing.
He reached a newsstand at the end of the concourse and browsed through a selection of cheap thriller novels. The plots weren't far from his own life, he thought wryly. A scan over the area didn't register anything out of the ordinary; just the usual mix of partygoers, the homeless and emotionally charged teens roaming the area.
Still scanning, he edged his way along the front of the newsstand. As he pretended to browse a magazine, he found what he was looking for. Halfway along the concourse and across from the train ticketing office stood a dozen blue lockers stacked three high and four wide. He took another look around, placed the magazine down and made his way to the lockers. After more precautionary glances, he found locker G7, moved to the centre console and followed the prompts to open it.
As he moved toward the locker, a high-pitched scream burned his ears. He went down on his knees and spun his head toward the sound, ready to pounce. A teenage girl less than two metres from him ran toward another. The second girl shrieked back her hello and they hugged. He felt like a goose. Nerves shot again, he ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. The ache in his ribs reminded him of the Primrose beating as he stood. The screaming died down to a dull giggling and Jay turned his attention to the locker. He pressed a flashing button and the door clicked open.
When he peered inside, four smiling faces in bright skivvy shirts greeted him – a W
iggles backpack. It seemed the weapons dealer either had a sense of humour or was simply an arsehole. He removed the cash from his gift bag and placed it in the backpack, then he closed the locker and headed for the hotel. Several stares from commuters confirmed that he looked like a schoolyard bully who'd pinched another kid's backpack.
As he hit the ramp at the end of the concourse, the inevitable taunts came his way. 'Hey, dickhead. Don't you think you're a bit old for the Wiggles?' The question came from a group of five youths with battered clothes, shaved heads and facial rings. They laughed in chorus.
With the newfound confidence of having the weapons at hand, Jay couldn't resist flipping the youths a comment after he passed. 'Don't you think you lot are the wrong gender for facial jewellery? A little makeup wouldn't go astray though.'
A tirade of obscenities followed as Jay crossed the street. He allowed himself a wry smile.
The concierge tilted his head and gave a quizzical look as Jay climbed the steps to the Rendezvous Hotel and entered the lobby.
Jay felt an explanation was in order. 'My boy left his backpack on the train today. Lucky someone handed it in,' he said.
'Very fortunate, sir.' The comment was tinged with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.
Jay started to move off and had a thought. He turned back. 'Unfortunately, both my and my wife's mobile phones were in the backpack. My son likes to answer our phones so he carries them for us.' A reasonable excuse at short notice.
The concierge wasn't convinced. 'I assume that they were not with the backpack when you retrieved it, sir.'
Jay nodded, 'That's right.'
'And you would like to know where you can get replacements at this time of night?'
Bingo. Jay smiled.
The concierge glanced sideways. 'Two mobile phones, one hundred dollar limit will cost three hundred.'
'Nice little profit. If you have the phones delivered within the hour you can write up a four hundred dollar tip to yourself on my bill.'