by Mae Argilan
"Romantic notion. What’s with you, Prentiss? Going soft?"
"Everybody loves a love story. I’m sorry for them, that they lost it."
She looked at Geoff. He looked like Gandhi: a tall, pale version of Gandhi if he hadn’t slept for two days. He headed for the mud porch.
"The clothes must be about dry by now," he said.
"Let me get you something to eat. They must have something. Ooh, look. Cinnamon buns. You, sit down before you fall over." She guided him to a barstool. "Let me take care of you for a change."
"Why does that scare me?"
"Don’t tell me you don’t trust me? You need to lie down. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours."
"Ah, so you’re still trying to get me into bed with you."
"I won’t be joining you."
"What about the disc? Let’s check it out first."
"It’s not going anywhere. After you wake up, we’ll go fire up the old computer."
Glenn took off his towel, and stood behind him drying his hair. Then, she led him into the bedroom where he sat down. She took a brush off the cherry wood bureau and knelt behind him, combing the bristles through his hair. She caught the cold mass in her hand, bunched it together, and secured it with a rubber band. Then, she used the towel to absorb droplets from the end of the ponytail.
Geoff took her hand, and kissed the open palm. "I ought to be doing this for you."
"I have no hair," Glenn said.
"What’s up with that? Why did you cut it so short?" Geoff touched the fringe of hair that duck-tailed behind her ear.
"An act of desperation and spite. You wouldn’t understand."
"You’d be surprised what I understand." He put his large hands on her waist, his fingertips touching at the small of her back.
"What would you know about self-destructive impulses?"
"I’m here with you." His words were slow, and slurred as he pressed his cheek against her midsection. "If that isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is."
"Go to sleep," she said into his ear, and kissed him on the neck.
He collapsed backward with his eyes closed. He folded his hands on his chest like a dead man in a coffin. His breathing became deep and regular almost immediately.
Glenn went downstairs to a half-finished rec room. A computer game was already running. She ejected it, and loaded the Bleetz disc. It contained double exposures of prominent people engaged in compromising positions. No doubt fraudulent. The photograph of Bobby was on it, as was ‘The Conspiracy’, Phil’s masterpiece. She wasn’t all that surprised to see it with her own eyes, just a little disappointed. Phil had managed to find a way to use her again. She felt a little less sad that he was dead. In fact, as she went back upstairs, she hoped he was rotting in hell.
The girls’ room had bedspreads and curtains with patterns of cartoon mermaids and other animated characters, which matched the picture books on the floor. A small table was set for a tea party, where stuffed animals and dolls waited for guests to arrive. Glenn strolled back to the main part of the house, and lounged on the couch finishing her coffee. Then, she prowled the kitchen, opening and closing the doors in the pantry. On the refrigerator she found a school picture of a seven-year old with a wide smile, and intelligent eyes. That must be the oldest girl. And, the Polaroid of the toddler with thin wisps of blond hair and a sweet expression must be the youngest. There was a cabinet with aFar Side calendar on it, and a pad with the beginnings of a grocery list. A drawer next to the fridge held utensils, and the one next to it had odds and ends. In here Glenn found a checkbook. You could tell a lot about a person by how she spent her money.
Glenn discovered it was a one-income family, with a healthy paycheck coming in twice a month. There were the usual purchases for food, gas, clothing, mortgage, utilities, and a big chunk to a Baptist church. What would someone think of Glenn’s checkbook? Deposits were sporadic and small, most purchases related to photography supplies.
In the living room was a TV console with a cable box, and a stereo set-up. The rack of CDs and tapes held an eclectic musical mixture of everything from country, to heavy metal, to Broadway show tunes. Glenn got the CD out of her robe pocket, and looked at it. Then, she went to the wooden rack next to the television, and fit it in between Disney’sBeauty and the Beast and Billy Ray Cyrus’sAchy-Breaky Heart . She nodded, and refilled her coffee mug.
She spent the next hour listening to Christmas tunes on the radio, and staring out the sliding glass door that overlooked the valley. The Blue Ridge Mountains were bluish, as advertised. The sky was white, etched with thin trails of smoke rising from chimneys. Flocks of foul soared with purpose, destination south.
Shortly after 10:30, Glenn returned to the bedroom. Geoff’s head was turned to the side and one of his hands was raised beside his face. He looked impossibly childlike. The other hand was on his stomach, and the robe was opened over his leg. It was the first thing she touched as she neared the bed. His breathing pattern changed, and his fingers twitched. She put one knee on the bed, and ran her fingers across his leg.
"Geoff? Time to get up."
Geoff grabbed her robe, and pulled her on top of him. "You’re still here," he said, nuzzling her neck.
She rolled onto the bed. "I thought about running away. It would have been so easy."
"So, why didn’t you?"
"Just waiting for my clothes to dry."
"As they tumble over and over again, becoming tangled in the legs and sleeves of one another."
"Besides, you know where I live."
"Afraid I’d come knocking on your door again?" he asked.
"Something like that."
"Would you let me in? Come on, babe, let me in."
She looked into his face. "I wish I could have let you sleep longer."
"I’m ready to be woke up." He rolled on top of her, and raised up on his elbows. "You know us college men. We don’t need much sleep." He pinned both her legs under one of his. "We’re used to long hours of cramming, far into the night."
"As you tumble over and over again, becoming tangled in the legs and arms of one another?"
Glenn responded to his touch. It was a reflex, like squinting against the light. To resist might cause injury to herself. She closed her eyes, and let the heat overtake her. She slipped her hand inside his robe, and stroked his back along the sinew connecting hipbone to shoulder.
"Where’s your bandage?"
"Took it off in the shower."
"We have to go."
"Not now."
"Don’t whine," Glenn said. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but in about one hour the Feds could have me in the clear. I’m getting restless."
"It’s a good thing I’m here. I’ve got a great cure for restlessness."
Their kisses became more passionate, as their hands explored each other. Glenn felt him loosen the sash of her robe, and she reached for his hands.
"Wait," she whispered.
"Shut up." He stroked the skin under her robe.
"Oh, don’t do that."
"I don’t care what you say, I’m not listening to you any more." He put his mouth over hers.
"Please. Just one minute. We have to talk."
"Oh, no." He pulled back, and looked at her. "Why do you keep doing this to me? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me this much?"
"No, no, that’s not it. I just can’t keep making this same mistake over and over again."
"Mistake? I know I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I have got to ask. What mistake are you talking about?"
"You’re the one who keeps talking about love and marriage, and all that jazz. How can I defend myself against that?"
"Now she’s talking about self-defense." He fell over on his back, and covered his face with his hands. "I give up. This is a woman who I’ve professed to love until my dying day. But, that’s not good enough. She needs more than that. She needs more than eternal love and commitment."
"Yeah, and
you’re full of crap. Just stop talking to yourself for a minute, and talk to me."
"Sure. Why not? What’s the topic of discussion for today: politics, religion, or how about the price of tea in China?"
"I’ll overlook the sarcasm because I realize this has been very stressful for you."
"So, now we’re calling my affection for you ‘stress’. Very complimentary."
"You seem to forget, I’ve played this scene before. The easiest thing in the world for me right now would be to shut my eyes, and open my heart. I mean, sure, on the surface you seem to be an entirely different type of man, but I did learn a lesson from my time with Phil Bleetz."
"Bleetz! Is that what this is all about? Man, that is so unfair."
"Probably. But, although you and he may be two different men, this is the same little old me in the middle. I can’t ignore that fact, and neither should you. Let’s face it, when it comes to affairs of the heart, I have ridiculously poor judgment."
"Can’t argue with you there." He propped himself up on his elbows. "But, come on. How can you compare that relationship to what we have? Wake up, and smell the half-caf mocha latte."
"The comparisons are surprisingly similar. Look at my track record. I have a habit of getting swept up in the adventure of romance, so much so I find it hard to distinguish my real emotions for the individualman from theevent ."
"You know, if you’re trying to keep from turning me on you should probably stop using words like ‘adventure’ and ‘event’. That just does funny things to the perverted part of my imagination, and makes it even more difficult to keep my hands off you."
She sat up, and tightened her belt. "Thishas been an adventure. But, when the danger is over, you’re not liable to find me so fascinating. You’re going to want to move on to your next adventure."
"Don’t judge me by your standards. Do you really think I’m that shallow?"
"I think your main attraction to me is based on a false image of what you think being with me would be like."
"Certainly not boring. Regardless of the circumstances, you could never be boring."
Glenn looked into his face, astounded again by the composition of cheekbone, jaw line and granite gray eyes, softened by shaven skin the texture of silk and liquid lips.
"Oh, my dear, I swear to you, if we get out of this alive…"
"What if?" Geoff asked.
"Let’s just say, I’ll owe you one."
"You owe me two, at least. No, make that three." He held up three fingers. "And, I’m letting you off easy at that."
"Not that you’re counting, or anything." She smiled. "Gee, I hope I’m worth it."
Geoff took her hands in his. "Lucky for you my mom raised me to be a gentleman. However, if you don’t get your clothes right this minute, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions."
"Yeah, sure, like you’re not going to be picturing me naked anyway." She put her arms around his neck. "Sometimes I wish you weren’t so darned decent."
"Hey, there’s no need to get vicious with the name-calling." He tightened his grip around her waist. "By the way, in case there was any doubt in your mind, I do think you’re worth waiting for and, yes, I am, at this very moment, picturing you naked."
"Oh, yeah, how do I look?"
He chuckled. "Like trouble. Big, big trouble."
They put together some food in a paper sack, and put it in the back of black, E class Mercedes Benz. They got dressed, and put on their jackets, and she put the red foil present in her pocket.
Geoff was cautious with the vehicle at first, but by the time they reached Downsville Pike he was comfortable behind the wheel. He selected a radio station, which came in and out of range through the rolling peaks and valleys. The DJ highlighted local events, mostly Christmas musicals in schools and churches. All would be happening on schedule as long as, ‘God is willin’ and the creek don’t rise’, which seemed a possibility. The area had been saturated with rain. In fact, by Halloween, officials had declared an end to a decade-long drought. Making matters worse was an important celestial phenomenon. The moon was full, and closer to the earth by several thousand meters, making for spectacular viewing, and high tides.
Glenn listened to the chatter, and ‘all hits all the time’ as the miles rolled by. The journey followed a jigsaw of roads along the West Virginia border. When the river hooked east, they wove around past Sandy Hook to Weverton, a historic canal town nestled in a crook of the Potomac. As the river flexed, Weverton dropped out of sight and Harper's Ferry bulged up at the joining of the Potomac and the Shenandoah Rivers. They went through Keedysville, along Sharpsburg Pike to the memorial of the Civil War, Antietam Battlefield. Glenn had never taken the walking tour of Bloody Lane. Whenever possible, she preferred to avoid battlefields.
"Pull over here," she said. "Let’s picnic here by this pasture. I’ve never been so close to cows before."
He pulled over on the shoulder of Route 67, and parked near the entrance of a farm lane. "You like cows?"
"I’m not sure. Look at them, all huddled together under that one little tree. Like they’re trying to get out of the rain. Amazing."
"Excuse me if I don’t turn somersaults."
"What keeps them from running away?"
"That fence there."
"That little bitty wire? Oh, they could bust through that. You can barely see it. Or, is it electric?"
"Maybe you want to go touch it, just to see? Soon as the rain slows down."
"Cows are so cool."
"If you say so." He reached into the back seat, and grabbed the sack. "Can you tear yourself away?"
"I’m sorry, but cows have always been like dinosaurs to me. I believe they exist, I’ve seen pictures. It’s just not quite real until you see them with your own eyes."
"Dinosaurs? But, you’ve eaten hamburgers, and worn leather shoes, right? When was the last time you tasted a brontosaurus steak?"
"Never. However, I did hear that stegosaurus-skin miniskirts are all the rage in Paris this year."
He grinned at her. "What I have is a little less exotic. How does salami and cheese strike you?"
"It strikes me that you’re going to make some woman a wonderful wife one day."
Agent Eric Pippin was in the midst of his own private war. It hadn’t taken long to realize that having sex with Sadie Cozzoli was like playing Russian roulette: unending moments of blinding panic interrupted by episodes of extraordinary bliss.
"I’m going to eat you alive, and spit out the bones," she had growled.
And, then they were off and running again. When Pip finally elbowed up from the foot of the bed, he was consoled by the fact that Sadie looked every bit as exhausted as he felt. Her dark hair fanned out on the pillow where she collapsed, and beads of sweat glistened on her neck. She seemed so still, so harmless, Pip felt a protective impulse toward her. In a different time, a different place, he could see himself indulging her every erotic fantasy.
"Do you do this with all your partners?" he asked.
"Did you meet my last partner? Had a fondness for pork rinds. A night never went by without him chowing down on some kind of cholesterol sandwich. He was a coronary waiting to happen."
"So, did you sleep with him?"
"Please. It would have killed him."
"Seems I heard he died on duty, of a heart attack," Pip said.
She looked out the corner of her eye. "Why would I sleep with him?"
"Because it’s there, same reason you climb a mountain."
"He was a mountain." She grinned. "All right, officer, I confess. I climbed that mountain every night, until that fateful day. He grabbed his chest, fell over, and died right there on that very spot."
"And, then what? You didn’t let a little thing like that stop you."
"I draw the line at necrophilia," Sadie said.
"Never underestimate the effects of rigor mortis. A coroner told me that once."
She laughed coarsely. "That’s the most perverse th
ing I ever heard."
"Want a cigarette?" Pip asked.
"No, thanks. I’m already smoking." She closed her eyes. "I’m going to grab some shut-eye while I wait for my phone call." She looked at the ceiling. "Pip, dear, this is above and beyond the call of duty. I can’tmake you stay, of course."
"But, you want me to?" He had that feeling again, that she was soft and sweet, and she needed him. "Of course, I’ll stay."
"I won’t forget this."
She pulled the sheet over her, and turned away from him. Her lithe body made a hard ripple under the covers. Pip stared at it for a while, feeling guilty. The Chief must be wrong. He’d never seen this side of Sadie Cozzoli. If he had, he would be as sure as Pip almost was. She was sly, shrewd, all the things that made top flight job performance: the thoroughness of a heart surgeon combined with the courage of a Green Beret. The Chief should be promoting her, not looking for evidence to dismiss her from the agency. He would, if he knew her better, if he knew her like Pip knew her.
At noon, Glenn clicked off the country station, and picked the phone up from the console. She put the call through, keeping her eyes on Geoff. He was more nervous than she was, and somehow that comforted her.
The voice asked, "Do you know who this is?"
"The man I spoke to before?"
"Do you know my name?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"That’s SOP. I’m going to tell you my name so you know who I am, and so you know you can trust me. Affirmative?"
"Affirmative."
"Commander Justin Knight, Chief of Domestic Operations for the Central Intelligence Agency."
"CIA? No, you’re with the AFIB."
"There are two agencies involved in the Duncan case. The AFIB is investigative. We’re the ones who cleared you of any complicity in the death of Robert Duncan, and will now be bringing you in for debriefing."
Glenn looked into Geoff’s eyes. "Affirmative."
"Without divulging too much of your location, I want you to tell me what district you’re in."
"Excuse me?"
"What county are you in?"
"Right now? Washington, I think."
"How about one of our State Parks?" Justin Knight said. "They’re easy to find, just follow the signs. Have you noticed any near you?"