“Why are we here? And what’s with all the suits?”
Carmen took him by the hand, walking slowly toward the house. “They’re all volunteers for this assignment.”
“Assignment?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You’ve become somewhat of a hero in the FBI community.”
Kyle looked at her, confused. “I thought they hated me. I gave the FBI a black eye.”
“You exposed a conspiracy involving a handful of people with a lot of power. You also exposed Rudy and Dwight. Dwight had been with the Bureau years before. He had made few friends and a lot of enemies, so most were glad to see him put down.”
They reached the front door where another FBI agent stood guard. The entry opened into a massive room, ornate lights dangling from a tall ceiling. A large staircase ascended to the second floor 20 feet away, directly ahead of them; two doorways, one on the left and the other on the right, led to the main part of the house.
She clutched his hand tighter. “Come on.”
She led him up the stairs and down another hall which led to the side of the house. There were closed doors along the right side of the wall as they walked, the left side looked out over a vast living area, tall full-pane windows reached from ground level to the ceiling several feet still above them. Straight ahead the hall opened onto an extensive balcony, where still more agents were positioned like guards at Buckingham Palace. He figured she had invited him to an FBI New Year’s Eve party.
She stood at the door, Kyle behind her. “He’s here.”
No outside lights were on as the agents looked out over the city, the view even more exquisite than it had been when he stepped out of the car. There were two agents on the right, one to the left leaning against the balcony rail, and two sitting down, each in a chaise overlooking Albuquerque. The balcony was large enough that six chaises, along with an assortment of chairs and rockers, fit nicely with room enough to walk around and mingle. Taking prominent center piece was a long, rectangular gas fire pit, flames flickering around fake volcanic rocks causing shadows to dance on the walls. He could feel the warmth as he wondered whose house it was and the types of parties that must have been held on the balcony in years past. Probably none so formal and secretive.
The two men in the chaise stood and started toward Kyle and Carmen. He recognized one as Norm, but the other he couldn’t place. He was an older man, dressed differently from the rest, more casual. He was about six feet tall, long gray hair parted on the side, and a hint of wrinkles on his face made more pronounced in the dancing fire light. Kyle guessed he was about sixty, perhaps older.
“Good work, Carmen,” Norm said, walking to her side and putting his arm around her, much like her own father might have done.
The other man stepped closer toward Kyle, his face slowly coming into focus as the dim light revealed more of his features. Kyle knew he had seen him before.
He stopped in front of Kyle, his voice shaky. “Hi...son.”
Kyle gasped, stumbling back a bit as he realized he was staring into the eyes of his own father. His father who had died when he was only 12. He stood motionless for a moment, squinting to get a better look.
“Dad?”
“It’s me.”
Kyle took three deep breaths and leaned forward, embracing his father for the first time in 16 years. His dad pulled him close and they hugged for at least a minute, each lost in their own memories and unanswered questions, Carmen and Norm silently watching.
Kyle finally pulled away, a tear streaking down his cheek. “How is this possible?”
“Let’s go in the house, okay?”
Kyle walked along with his father, Norm and Carmen trailing a polite distance behind. They descended the stairs he and Carmen had come up, taking a right into the large living area. They sat on a couch facing massive floor-length windows overlooking the city.
“You died,” Kyle said. “Years ago.”
“No, actually…I didn’t. They told you I did to protect all of you. I was alive. I was also there that night. In the FBI building.”
Kyle thought for a moment, and then looked at his father. “So…I did see you, didn’t I? You were wearing the red Minnesota Twins cap.”
Douglas nodded. “Yeah, you saw me. We heard you call after me. When we got to the conference room, I went through the other door and tossed my cap to one of the agents there. I heard everything that took place that night. I so wanted to rush out that door and pull you into my arms, but I couldn’t.”
“Why not? Why didn’t you tell us? Why have you never come to find us?”
Douglas sighed. “It was all part of the deal. I had made a phone call to a dear lady whose husband, one of my best friends, was killed. I only spoke with her for a moment, but somehow the FBI found out about it, along with my former employers who wanted me dead. The FBI had someone on the inside and knew when the hit was scheduled, so we meticulously planned out all the details and faked my death. I had to make sure all of you were safe. They said they would give you all new identities, which they wouldn’t tell me, and moved you to a nice place far away. I never guessed Albuquerque.”
“Why didn’t you come find us sooner?”
“Like I said, it was part of the deal.”
“But…why now?”
“Several reasons,” Douglas said, gazing out over the city lights, searching for the words. “A lot of it had to do with that young lady over there.”
Kyle looked to Carmen standing near the wall whispering with Norm, then back to his father. “Carmen?”
“Apparently she found some number scribbled on one of her father’s files at the Bureau. She said she almost overlooked it since there were tons of numbers in the file, but this one was out of place. It turned out it was a reference mark to another profile, my current one. She spent the last month tracking me down and arranged this meeting. Her father was there that night you busted into the conference room.”
“I remember,” Kyle said, his voice distant as he recalled the image of Mark Jernigan.
“He was a good man,” Douglas said.
Kyle nodded, another tear rolling down. “Yeah, he was.”
“So,” his dad said, quickly changing the subject. “Tell me about the family.”
Kyle stood and retrieved the photo album and video from Carmen, glancing at her once with a smile, then returned to the couch and started going through the photos. Kyle hadn’t looked through the album since nearly the time Eva had given it to him. Up front were pictures of his father, before the faked death, before he went off to become someone else, participating in family gatherings. The same photos the FBI had told them to destroy 16 years before. They managed to locate the VCR in the entertainment center and watched the family celebrate Christmas of 2004 together. As the tape played, Kyle kept looking at his father, enjoying the expressions he made as a new grandchild came into view, as a daughter he hadn’t seen in 16 years told a story, the wife of his youth surrounded by kids and grandkids and sons-in-law, as the entire family laughed and ripped open presents. By the time it was over his face was soaked with tears, wiping them back with his shirt sleeve.
“How’s your mom?” Douglas choked out.
Kyle nodded a little as he answered. “She’s good, dad. She’s happy.” There was a brief hesitation, then Kyle added, “not a day goes by she doesn’t think of you and miss you, but she’s really happy. She lives with Ferne now.”
Douglas looked confused for a moment, then said, “Ferne is Lisa, right?”
Kyle grinned. “Yeah, dad.” He loved saying dad. It had been so long. He quickly rose and went to the VCR, removed the tape and turned to his dad. “I’m gonna call mom.”
Douglas stood. “No.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m only here for tonight, to watch the new year arrive with you, my only son.”
“But surely it’s been long enough the FBI are no longer worried any of us are in danger?”
“Kyle, you were just in danger this la
st month,” his father explained. “They don’t forget, son. They really don’t. But that’s not it. Can we go back to the balcony?”
Kyle agreed, walking up the stairs with his dad, again Carmen and Norm keeping a safe distance, allowing them their privacy. They stepped back out and the agents came to attention, keeping an eye on the grounds below. Kyle took a seat by his father, both gazing at the lights of the city as the fireworks rocketed into the night sky on the far horizon. “Don’t you think mom has a right to know you’re still alive?”
“I would, normally.”
“But what?”
Douglas turned to his son. “Several years ago, I was diagnosed with Stage three prostate cancer. It’s extremely aggressive and I’ve been undergoing treatment for a long time. In fact, it gave me a few extra years, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I went through surgery, radiation and now am on a drug that takes all the testosterone out of my system. So basically, it turns me into an old married woman.”
Kyle grinned as his dad nudged him with a smile, but he didn’t say a word. Douglas continued. “The outlook isn’t hopeful…it’s now progressed further and is terminal. I won’t drop myself back into the family only to die once again. I refuse to hurt them a second time.”
There was an anxious pause as both sat quietly, thinking.
“Did I ever tell you how I met your mother?” Douglas said, changing the subject.
Kyle shook his head a little. “Just that both of you met in college.”
“It was our freshman year of college,” Douglas explained. “We had the same Journalism class together, your mother and I. She had sat down right next to me in class, even though there were empty seats all around. It was a small amphitheater-type classroom. She was so beautiful; with long black hair and the softest skin you could ever imagine. That went on for a while, we made small talk, but I was shy and didn’t make a move. So, one day, a few weeks into the class, she sits down a couple of rows and to the right. I immediately wondered what was wrong, if I had done something or said something wrong. I was usually in class before her, so the next time class came around, she was there early, sitting down below in her new spot. I went over and sat next to her. We started talking more and I eventually gathered the courage to ask her out on a date.”
Kyle laughed. “You were shy?”
“I know, hard to believe, isn’t it? But she said yes and we had our first date at Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlour. They had more than ice cream – burgers, sandwiches, hotdogs and such, but they don’t exist any longer. Obviously, it was a great date.”
Douglas glanced at Kyle who was lost in thought, then resumed his story. “We dated for a year then married. She dropped out of school so she could work and put me through and I eventually got a degree in accounting. I landed my first job with a small partnership, then when we started our family, I went on to a larger company that I thought would be a good career move. Turns out, it was a criminal organization, which I didn’t find out until working there for a few years. They threatened every one of you, indirectly, so I had a choice, either work for them all-in or get out whatever way I could. I didn’t need to think about it, I went directly to the FBI. I was imbedded for years. And you know the rest of the story.”
“I knew you weren’t a criminal, dad,” Kyle said. He couldn’t help but smile. The mere thought of saying the word dad again. It felt good.
Douglas sighed, putting his arm around Kyle. “I would love to see my wife again, and my daughters, and the grandkids I saw on the video. But I can’t. We’ve been through a lot…our family. I won’t put them through any more. They’re in a good place. More than that, I don’t think I could convince the FBI to go along with it.”
Kyle remained silent; the height of his ecstasy having dropped rapidly. He lost his father, then had him back for a short time, and was about to lose him again. It was only then he realized, after noticing how he was feeling himself, what his dad was trying to say. He had little choice but to agree. He didn’t want to hurt Eva, Claudia, Jacqueline, Ferne, Monica and especially his mother. They were happy, and they were proud of their father.
Kyle glanced at his watch. Five minutes until midnight.
“Will I see you again?” Kyle said.
“No. This is a one-time deal.”
“The photo album and video are yours to take with you.”
“Thanks,” Douglas choked out. “I’m proud of you, son. So proud.”
Kyle fought back the tears, taking his dad’s hand. “I love you, dad, and I don’t want you to die.”
“Don’t worry about me; and who knows, God may give me many more years. Remember the reason I left crime?”
“Because you found religion.”
“I didn’t just find religion. I found much more than that, and it lasts an eternity. I know my life will go on, so don’t you worry about me. I’m facing the end with joy, not sadness. I have Jesus’ promise on that. He got me through all these years without you and the rest of the family. And someday I hope you will make the same decision.” Douglas reached across the seat and took hold of a large, leather-bound book, handing it to Kyle. “It’s my own Bible. Inside, between the pages, I’ve put dozens of letters written to you. I wrote them over the years in hopes that someday I would see you again.”
Kyle held the book, then looked at his dad. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“I’m serious. I don’t want you to worry about me.” Douglas grew quiet, then whispered, “Alex?”
Kyle choked up, trying to respond but the words weren’t coming forth. Hearing his dad call him Alex felt wonderful; it had been so long. Finally, he managed a weak, “yeah, dad?”
“I want you to know, I still love your mother. She was the world to me. I love all of you kids very much. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about you, and pray for each one of you.”
Kyle looked down and slowly closed his eyes as tears escaped, running down his face. He nodded slowly, looked back up and said, “I know. We all love you, too, Dad.”
Both sat for a moment, composing themselves. Kyle didn’t want the night to end. He wished he could capture it, take a video or something so he could show the family, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He sat with his father, feeling helpless, not wanting to let him go. He then thought of Carmen and all she must have gone through to arrange this night just for him. It was the best Christmas present he could ever hope for.
“Did you ever remarry?” Kyle asked, changing the subject. He had told his dad earlier that his mother never remarried, and knew the question might be a delicate one to ask. But he needed to know.
“No, although I did meet a pretty radiology technician in the hospital, and – well – she's offered to marry me, if you can believe that. I suspect it will be a rather short marriage, but who knows?”
Kyle thought of his mother without a partner, a husband, but knew she was happy. At first, he wasn’t sure how to feel, then thought of his father dying alone. “Then you should marry her,” Kyle said. “You should marry her and live a happy life in the time you have left.”
Douglas smiled, putting his arm around his son as they watched the fireworks off in the distance. Thousands of lights twinkled at them. Montgomery Boulevard was close by and Kyle guessed they were at the top of Glenwood Hills, based on the size of the house and the million-dollar view. Montgomery was probably the brightest street in the city, starting at the base of the mountain and running all the way into the valley, stretching more than 12 miles.
The clock ticked past midnight as a host of rockets lit the sky with brilliant colors, several different shows coming to new life across the city as the main fireworks burst with more ferocity, the sound of the explosions far away but audible. Kyle figured that they had the best view of anyone. He could hear cheers rising into the night sky as the city celebrated. Horns started honking, hundreds of them in a loud chorus.
Carmen came and sat on the other side of Kyle, then leaned against him as he slipped his ar
m around her. Together they watched the dawn of a new year. The fireworks stayed alive for 15 minutes before dissipating, but the horns and noise of the people continued to drift upward. Life seemed perfect and wonderful even after having endured the hardest month he could ever remember.
As they quietly watched, something caught Kyle’s attention, far off in the south valley. At first, he thought it was nothing, a shadow of something flying by in the night, but it seemed to grow. Like a wave landing on a beach, the lights of the city rapidly died, entire blocks quickly consumed by darkness in quick succession, moving from the south all the way to the north like dominos falling across a table. Seconds later the lights of the house went dark.
Kyle looked over toward Norm who was perched at the bannister of the balcony, watching the lights of the city die out, then looked over to Kyle in the glow of the fire.
“Hey,” Kyle said, “that one’s not on me.”
About the Author
Richard “Rick” McAlpin lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico with his wife, two daughters, grandson and mother. Stratagems is his first novel to be published but the fourth to be written. It took third place at the 1998 Southwest Writers Workshop contest in mainstream novel competition, under the title “The Stratagem”. It was brought up to date in the mid 2000’s with a more intricate back story, and updated again in 2019 with new content and professional editing. In prior years contests his third novel, Oblivion (not related to the movie of the same name) took second place in mainstream novel category and his fifth novel, Sacred Allegiance, was a finalist in the 1999 competition. Rick is a writer and software engineer.
One of the contest judges, in her critique of Stratagems, wrote: “…it is a heart-pounding, pulse-building story. To quote the cliché, ‘I couldn’t put it down.’ In no way can I find fault with this manuscript. It is fast paced, exciting, and well written.”
Author’s Note
Stratagems is my fourth novel written, but the first published, and one I put a lot of my own expertise and experiences in, including technology (of the era, of course) and my recollections of the different locations and haunts around Albuquerque, New Mexico at the time. I was always put off by movies (and the occasional book) that made computer technology sexy and elegant with “hackers” dancing around their keyboard and swatting at it occasionally while designing a complicated piece of code, which they finish in a matter of minutes. As they dance and type to trendy music, the screen always has wonderful graphics floating around like puzzle pieces in a glass of water which eventually assemble into an amazing, colorful mosaic. I do get it – filming a person coding for hours at a time while they drink half a dozen Dr. Pepper’s doesn’t sell tickets. As you read the story, if you know anything about coding, and I suspect even if you don’t, you will get the sense of authenticity and realism which I hope you will enjoy. I also weave it into the story in such a manner so as to not make the reader comatose.
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