The Professor

by Rachel Renee

  Sophia walks toward the kitchen and I go to my room, shutting the door behind me. “I’m alone now. What’s going on?”

  “Military. That’s how he’s getting his weapons, how the money is switching hands so easily. We’ve got multiple men over there as well as in the U.S. who have been bought for a small fee. They’ve been working for Rubio for years right under our noses. We wouldn’t have even looked into these men had it not been for those files you retrieved. Low-ranking soldiers looking to make a few extra bucks by making sure information and then more recently shipments of our military weapons land in the hands of Paolo Rubio.”

  I stay quiet and listen, knowing that my words could be heard from the other room. I needed to be alone for this message and there has to be a reason for that.

  “Once we knew Taylor was in Rubio’s back pocket, we kind of assumed that was how he’s been acquiring the weapons all along. Through his men. We were wrong. This hits way closer to home. Taylor and his crew were just the icing on the cake for Paolo.”

  “So now what?”

  “We’ve got more than enough. Pack your bags. You’ll be home before you know it.”

  “When will it go down? Will I be involved?”

  “No. And nothing is set in stone yet. When we give the signal, there will be a flight booked for you to hightail it out of there. I don’t want you caught in the crosshairs. You’ve made it this long, and if we can keep Rubio and his men from knowing you were anything but a college professor, that is what we are going to do.”

  “I want to see this through.”

  “No, Cauley. You never know when the CIA will need you in Italy again. Your identity remains solid and so will your reputation. You’ve done well.”

  “Lieu…”

  “No. There will be no more discussion. You will be briefed upon reaching the United States. That is where you will hear the final outcome. It’s part of the job, remember that, kid.”

  I heard tales of this kind of thing but I’d hoped they were wrong. To work on something for so long only to allow another to be the closer. It’s bullshit. The sigh I exhale is audible and commented on.

  “For your first mission, I’d say you should consider yourself a success. The fewer people who know who you really are and who you work for, the better your career will be.”

  The words ring true and I’m stunned by my own thoughts and agreement. “Do I need to keep this to myself?” I know the answer before he opens his mouth.

  “Classified. As in, Liam Cauley is the only man in Italy at the moment who knows what is coming. Make up something to tell Sophia and Charlie. We’ve alerted Moretti and he’s prepared to play his role when the time comes.”

  “What role will that be?”

  “Classified.”

  Of course. “Will Charlie and Sophia know anything?”

  “They will. I’m not in charge of that information.”

  Whatever I tell the two teammates closest to me, it can’t contain the fact that this mission is practically over. It sounds as though I may not even get the chance to tell either of them goodbye.

  “I’ll see you stateside soon. Keep your head down and your eyes on the prize.”

  “Will do,” is the answer I give. The phone line goes dead but my mind is alive with so many thoughts that I can’t contain them. My head falls to my hands. I’ve been waiting so long to hear those words, but now that I have, I don’t really know how I feel. It’ll be good to get home, but I’m so ingrained in the false life I’ve created here, the thought of leaving is not a calming one.

  What do I tell Sophia? She knows this phone call was classified, which means they don’t want her knowing what was said. Also, how much more time will I have to spend with Sophia? With Santi? Will I see Charlie again before my departure?

  When the nearly silent knock comes on the door, I jump. I hadn’t heard her approaching which means she could have been standing there for much longer. Thankfully, I didn’t say too much. Even if she did hear me, she wouldn’t know everything.

  “Just a minute,” I yell out. Trying to collect my thoughts, prepare my story, and hide the relief and frustration that’s building inside, I lie back on the bed for just a few moments. When I open the door, whatever comes out of my mouth has to be believable. Not only to Sophia but for myself as well.

  32

  This is it! What this whole thing has been building up to, and they want me to rush to the airport for a flight that leaves in less than three hours. Once I’m safely through the gates, they can send in the troops, so to speak, to arrest Paolo and a few men who work close to him. No one plans for this to go smoothly. Paolo will surely put up a fight. The men who are coming to get him have the authority to kill if necessary, and honestly, the optimistic part of me says it won’t come to that. There is another part of me that worries that it just may.

  The finale took longer than anticipated and if we could just wait one month more, the last term at university would be complete. I hate leaving my students in a lurch. They have worked so hard these past few months. The thought of someone else coming in and not caring about how much they’ve learned by being immersed into their own culture gives me heartburn. My hope is that the students can take my principles and use them to continue to grow. It would be amazing if whomever they hire would come in and follow my lead, take over where I left off.

  I got to see Charlie a few weeks ago. He came up to the campus to see me as he knew this was about over, and my time with him in Italy was dwindling. I’m glad he was informed and we could get a proper goodbye. I will never forget the father figure he became, the confidante who had trust in my abilities and pushed me to be better at my job.

  The deep breathing next to me gives me pause. Sophia is here. She arrived tonight, our biweekly weekend together. She was never told the truth about what was transpiring. It broke my heart to have to keep it from her, but I know why the men in charge decided it was the best option. If she was even the tiniest bit across the line on the Rubio side, she could alert him to his demise.

  She knows something’s up. I couldn’t hide everything from her. I told her they were able to learn quite a bit from the files I gave them and were working on the last bits of intel to build the rest of the case. I think she knew it would be closing soon and I think she was looking forward to it.

  Secretly, I also wonder if she knew that tonight would be our last night together. Even though I was told Sophia would be the last to be alerted, once everything was complete, had someone tipped her off anyway?

  Tonight, Sophia, Santi, and I went to dinner. We laughed and conversed as usual. We drank too much, which is unusual, and came home earlier than is typical. Santi stayed out but kissed us both on the cheeks before walking off into the opposite direction of home.

  Shutting the door to our room, Sophia grabbed ahold of my shirt and pulled me to her. I embraced her small frame, holding her in my arms as her body shuddered beneath me. “I love you, Nic,” she had said. “Always remember that. The relationship we have built is real.”

  I didn’t know why she was saying those words at the time, but as I look down at her now, maybe she knew our moment was up. She had pulled back from me and with tear-stained cheeks, rose up on her tiptoes, and placed a feather-light kiss upon my lips before grabbing my hand and pulling me into bed where we have been ever since.

  The phone call I received moments ago didn’t stir her, and her breathing never changed. In some ways, I’m glad that this is how we will part. I do not have to say goodbye with my words because we already said goodbye with our actions earlier this evening.

  Gathering the last of my belongings as quickly and quietly as possible, I stare one last time at the figure of the beautiful woman lying in bed. What will become of her? What will become of me?

  Blonde hair is splayed across the pillow, but her body is tucked in tight as if she is protecting herself from what will occur. I can’t help myself and I bend down once more, kissing her forehead. “I will never fo
rget you,” I whisper.

  With my bag slung over my shoulder, I leave the room and shortly after, the apartment. The car that I was told would be waiting for me is on the opposite side of the road when I exit. After one last glance at the building, I move swiftly to the open door and throw my duffle in before entering myself.

  The ride to the airport is completely silent except for the noise of the open road beneath the tires. I don’t even bother to look at the man who is driving and despite me looking straight forward, I never see the man glance up in the mirror at me either.

  As we pull up to the terminal where I will depart Italy, a huge weight is lifted. There are plenty of positive attributes I can take away from this experience. Good memories of the people I was thrust upon will carry me through to the end even if I cannot actually be here to see it happen. I will only have one regret, that being Santi, and him not knowing the real me. Well, that’s not true. I believe I showed him who I was without either of us even realizing it. I can’t imagine what he will think of my ending the engagement or even why I left without saying anything to him about it. That part is not me. He will know that something truly awful must have happened for me to disappear the way I am. I only hope that he will be able to forget about me. Move on from what will happen to his father. Grow into a good man once he is not under the thumb of his father’s business.

  Grabbing my bag, I reach for the car handle only to realize the door was opened for me. I step out into the cool air of April, inhaling what I believe will be my last breath of Italy, before the man holding the door speaks.

  “Thank you for your service.”

  I look to him, only now realizing he is even younger than I am. His hazel eyes shine into mine but I’m so stunned by his words and presence that the only response I give is a nod of my head before I walk quickly into the open sliding glass doors.

  Clack, clack, chang, clack, clack, chang, mesmerizes me the moment I enter. I listen to the sound, watch the people scattering this way and that with pieces of their lives being drug across the floor as they go. All this time, my feet are completely still. It doesn’t hit me until someone nudges from behind that I’ve stopped right in the middle of the entranceway. I apologize to the gentleman who was carrying a suitcase and dragging yet another behind him. He only rolls his eyes before moving past.

  Until I board the airline, I’m on autopilot. I don’t even think about what is happening until my ass meets the cold seat of my flight back to reality. My ears pop as the elevation changes, as do the thoughts back into my mind. Only after I’m sipping a cup of black coffee do I allow myself to go back to Italy. Back to what is taking place as the plane begins its voyage across the ocean. It’s only then that I realize I know the voice of the man sitting in front of me. I reach forward slightly and tap his shoulder.

  “Good to see you again,” I tell him.

  “Seems like so long ago when we first met in this same exact spot.”

  “Only then I was freaking out and you were handing me a brown paper sack.”

  Charlie turns in his seat, smiling back at me. “I’m proud of you. Seriously, unbelievable what you accomplished.”

  I want to say thank you but I’m not ready to be commended just yet. Until I see with my own eyes what happens with Paolo Rubio, this mission is incomplete.

  “I understand. It’s hard to take in and even harder to let go of.”

  “I know why it has to happen this way, but it doesn’t make things any easier. How do I know the mission is complete?”

  “When we get to the States, they will have video footage for us to watch. It’s the best we can hope for.”

  The best we can hope for sucks. Video footage? Why not live coverage? Oh, right. It’ll all be over by the time we touch down. It should be, anyway. It’s hard to believe that my cover was never blown. Why waste that? If I were Santi, I’d question the fact that I disappeared right at the same time his father was arrested. It seems super suspicious to me. Maybe I’m just too close to the action to see it any other way?

  “Why is it okay for Sophia to stay?”

  “She lives in Rome. It would look really weird if she disappeared as well.”

  “If her cover is blown because I left, I will never forgive myself.”

  “It won’t be. Everything is locked tight. You and I have been planning this for some time.” He means the fact that we are heading back to the States. “Sophia will be broken-hearted about our abrupt exit, but I had to get back in a hurry because my cancer is back and we have to start treatment right away.”

  This is the story that was concocted. Sophia isn’t going to say that our engagement was broken right away, just that I needed to leave as soon as possible and we would figure things out at a later time. There is a possibility that she would end up coming stateside for a bit if anything goes awry during or after Paolo Rubio arrest. There is also a possibility that our story will not be believed by Santi. He will want to get in contact with me but as soon as I’m briefed, the only number he has to reach me on will be disconnected.

  Charlie says something, but it goes in one ear and right out the other. I finish off my coffee, leaning back in the pleather seat of the airline, stretching my feet out in the empty aisle way. I must drift off because the next thing I know Charlie is tapping my knee.

  “We’re almost to Atlanta.”

  My eyes widen. “I slept for over eleven hours?”

  “You must have been tired.”

  I can hardly believe I was out for so long. “Shortest international trip ever.” I yawn coming out of my deep sleep.

  My hands are trembling as the wheels touch down hard onto the runway. The excitement of being back in the States has my knees bouncing and my fingers tapping. Charlie turns and gives me a thumbs up as the fasten seatbelt sign is turned off and we are released to disembark the plane.

  Within thirty minutes, Charlie and I are in a car together, heading for the headquarters here in Atlanta. I’ll have to stay a couple of days to make sure everything is in order before I’m released to go back to Savannah.

  I want to call my parents to let them know I’m back. The thought to dial Eliza’s number even crosses my mind, but I think better of it. It’s been nearly two years, and I’m sure she has moved on at this point. Maybe I’ll run into her sometime once I’m home and can give her an idea as to why I left her so suddenly.

  Once we reach the CIA Training Offices, Charlie and I are escorted to a darkened room with a television and computer screen set to press play. I pace back and forth while we wait for the go-ahead to plug into the arrest of Paolo Rubio, AKA Darren Sanders in his former life. A man in a black suit walks in, presses a few buttons on the computer keyboard, and then hits play on the television on the adjacent wall.

  The room brightens as the feed comes to life, voices sound off, informing us of the fact that they are approaching the Rubio estate. I sit in the plastic chair directly in front of the screen, barely containing the whole of my body atop it.

  On the edge of my seat, I watch as men in SWAT-type gear approach the home of Paolo Rubio. They are coming in from every side and I feel like it’s a little excessive to use so much force for one man. A lead man advances to the door. One that I have gone through myself a few times. Two men follow closely behind the first, with their large weapons drawn in front of them or perched at their sides. There’s a bright flash right at the door and then the three men disappear within the smoke. All the other men move closer to the home. There is someone at every first-floor window, and a couple are on either side of the front door. The quiet is eerie, like a silent film being played and you have to figure out what is happening without words or cues. I want to press fast forward and get to the good stuff, but my hands are stuck on my lap.

  I hear static, like that from a walkie-talkie and then a voice comes on the line. “We’ve secured the help. Team two bring them out. We’re about to infiltrate the sleeping quarters.”

  At that moment, my heart stops. I’m so
thankful that I know Santi is home in Florence. If he were there, he may be frightened or angry and try to stop them. The thought of these men causing him harm truly bothers me. I care about Santi and what is going on in front of me is going to break him. When he wakes in the morning and finds out his father was arrested and will be extricated back to the United States, I’m not sure what he will do. Sophia will be there. Will she comfort him? She’ll need comforting herself. The thought of the two of them soothing each other makes me a little queasy, and I’m not positive why that would be.

  There’s a lot of shuffling of shoes on carpet and the next sound I hear is a groggy voice asking what’s going on.

  “Paolo Rubio, also known as Darren Sanders, you are under arrest for crimes against your home country, the United States…” I don’t hear what else is said because I’m watching Paolo fighting the two men who grabbed ahold of him. Elbows are flying, blankets are being torn, a lamp falls, and the nightstand bangs against the wall and flips. There’s so much action that it is hard to focus on what is happening. Not to mention, it’s in the middle of the night and the only lights are those coming from the guns the men are holding their captive at bay with.

  Paolo falls to the floor, bringing another individual down with him. I think they’ve got him but then I see a naked figure run across the room from the spot Rubio had just been in. There’s some clanging, something falls, and then gunfire.

  “Breathe, Liam.” I look at the man sitting next to me. I feel lightheaded once I let it go and take in fresh air once more.

  Sparks shoot off into the darkness, guns being fired, and then complete silence abruptly takes over once more. I’m waiting for movement, for a signal from someone in the room that there is still life. I hear more footsteps in the distance and I can only assume more men are entering.

  “Sanders is down.”

  It doesn’t register at first because that is not who I know him as.