by E L Russell
8
New Life and New Friends
Early April, Orlando, Florida Part of flying home
Bright sun broke through the plane’s windows and through Meret’s dream where she’d been arguing with the colonel about her trust funds. The presence of someone bending over her hit her wakeup button and snapped her back to reality.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Before her eyes could focus, her ears recognized none other than her middle aged, middle height, no nonsense, by the book, long time friend, Helen Deal. “Helen! No, no, I was awake, just not fully. Lord, for being good friends, we never see each other. What got you out of your Hermann Memorial office? You never take a day off.”
“A National HR conference the boss said I couldn’t pass up” She backed into the bulkhead to let the flight attendant by. After adjusting the tight bun in her hair, she smiled, revealing a sparkle in her narrow eyes. “Say, I just had a wonderful conversation with your friend Ginny.”
“You know Ginny?”
She gestured with he chin. “I do now. Sharp girl. I’m sitting in 4C, next to her. When I first took my seat she asked if I was a doctor. That caught me off guard because I didn’t know anything about her. When I asked her how she knew,” Helen laughed, “she said the flight attendant called me Dr. Deal and then she commented I was the second doctor she’d met recently. She’s decided to be a doctor, too.”
“Oh, she has, has she? So, that’s how you learned I was on the plane. Did she tell you about her mother?”
Helen stepped aside for a man going to the rest room. “Yes, it’s sad. She also told me all you’ve done for her and her dad. Poor kid. She’d have been lost without you. It was a bad time for her father to be out of the country. When does he get back?”
“He’s secretly deployed somewhere, Ginny told me he’s been away for almost a year.” She fingered waved toward the rear of the cabin.
“Ginny?”
“Yes,” still waving and smiling at her, she said, “How did it go with the colonel?”
Meret caught her attention and slid an index finger across her neck.
Helen’s frown almost hid her eyes. “Damn, sorry about that. You plan on spending some time in Houston before going back to USC?”
“Hell yes, but I’m not going back to the West coast, I resigned from USC’s Lentiviral Core Lab to open up my own consulting firm in Houston.”
“That’s great. You’ll be back in town. Will you be staying at the Zalea Hotel?”
“My Grandfather said unless he finds good reason to release my trust funds, I figure I could stay three months or so. It’s up in the air.”
“Oh, that’s right, Zalea’s one of the family hotels.”
“Well, I can see his point. It makes more sense to spend my trust on cheaper digs, at least until I can get the consulting going. Yeah, but for now, come by for brunch. But don’t delay, three months isn’t that long.” She attempted a laugh and quickly saw that Helen wasn’t buying in to it. “I’ll be okay, really, please don’t worry for me.”
Her expression tightened. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, that sounds rather cold of him. Does he really intend to cut you off?”
“He’s an extremely conservative business man and looks at it as a way to cut expenses. After all, the worst that can happen is I’ll still have my 3%, and need to downsize a bit, but I’ll be okay.”
She leaned closer and squeezed her forearm. “How about one-o’clock tomorrow for a late lunch? I’ll tell you what else Ginny had to say.”
* * *
The flight from Orlando to Houston Hobby landed a few minutes early. She caught up to Ginny in the gangway. “Freshen up in the ladies’ room adjacent to our arrival gate. I’ll wait for you outside. I want to double-check your dad’s schedule.”
Ginny turned and walked quickly through departing passengers.
Meret first placed a call to her dad before she checked gate information. The call went to voice mail with no information other than a request to leave a message. She relayed only that they had arrived safely and she would text him the flight, gate and departure time once she confirmed it. She immediately selected the flight arrivals app.
Ginny walked toward her with cell held firm against one ear and her hand covering the other. Her face beamed with animated chatter. She nodded frequently and seemed to be speaking as fast. Standing in front of Meret she said, “Hold it” and turned the cell screen to face her. “See? Here’s my Dad and he wants to talk to you.”
The image of an equally enthusiastic young rugged man with close field cut hair couldn’t hide his feelings. “We owe you so much, Doctor. Mather. Thank you for everything.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“My CO’s cutting as much red-tape as possible. I still have a few more minutes on base and then a driver will take me directly to Hobby.”
He looked down at what she thought was his wristwatch.
“Processing and drive time makes it ninety minutes, ma’am.”
“Outstanding sergeant. Our flight departs in two and one-half hours. We’ve seen more than one gate change already so let’s meet at the juncture of Hobby’s two concourses and the main entrance. There’s tons of good food and space for semi-private reunions. Here’s Ginny.”
Ginny resumed her bright face and chatter.
With a gentle hand on her back, Meret walked slowly and guided the pair toward their reunion.
After a double check of their tickets with the gate attendant, they sat at a table with clear view of both concourses and the entrance. Ginny suggested they try the special milkshakes. Meret agreed not knowing what that might mean.
Ginny sat with both feet pulled up under her legs while Meret managed to cross one. Both stirred sixty-four ounce ice cream, chocolate laden meals with fat plastic straws that often needed de-icing by hand handled plastic spoons. With slightly less than an hour until he arrived, Meret wiped her chin and asked, “What’s your fathers name?”
“Luke.” She nodded, never removing her gaze from the large container as she continued stirring the cold drink. “.”
Her mouth almost full, Meret corrected her by using the spoon as a pointer for emphasis. “Sergeant Luke Stelling.”
Ginny laughed, “But I just call him Dad.”
“My grandfather’s a military man.”
“What do you call him?”
“Sir.”
Glancing away at the Main entrance Meret saw the only man that could be Sargent Luke Stelling walking toward them. Dressed in clean, starched field gear, with backpack and duffel held low, he swaggered like it was a day in the park. People on both side of the wide walkway turned as he passed. From his clean desert boots, tucked in camo clothes to his starched canvas hat, he projected activity duty beyond any poster she ever saw.
Then Ginny changed everything. Only the sound of her dropped milkshake cup alerted Meret of her rapid departure.
She caught it in one hand and watched Ginny fly away. Yea, she could run. The passengers in the hallway knew what had happened and became twin choruses, with applause, whistles and shouts of encouragement at the joy of a daughter and warrior home from the field. The pair collided where the sunbeams were brightest, where everything he stood for and she needed, merged. Sargent Luke Stelling was home.
* * *
The next morning, Meret lost track of time and allowed herself the luxury of sleeping late in her Zalea top floor apartment. A text notified her of an unexpected issue requiring Helen’s presence at a meeting later and for them to have time for lunch, she would arrive early and meet her in the lobby at twelve-thirty.
Expecting to take her early morning run after lunch, Meret dressed in her running gear and tight ponytail. After pleasantries, omelettes, french Toast, bagels and coffee, Helen got to the point. “Ginny and I had a few hours to chat during the flight to Houston. We discussed a few things about her mom and dad.” She sipped her coffee and narrowed her eyes to inquiring
slits that reminded Meret of her first job interview with Helen. “You didn’t know her mother is a RN?”
Meret chewed her bagel and shook her head.
“She is has a good record in the ER and was on her way to interview at the same hospital in Orlando when she had the accident. The doctors didn’t mention that?”
Meret frowned and shook her head. “Did Ginny say why she wasn’t traveling with her?”
“School.” She put her cup down. “Ginny’s class was taking standardized tests and rather than sit in a car for two day and miss even more days making the missing tests up, her mom left her with a friend and took off to Florida on her own. Ginny seemed excited about moving to Florida in the Fall.”
“How about her dad? He struck me as a special ops guy. A Ranger with stories he can’t tell, just like Grandfather Elias.”
Helen tried to wipe some syrup from her finger tips. “You got that right. Dad’s deployments have taken a toll but both mother and daughter are Army and are centered into a positive support system. Ginny mentioned Annapolis or West Point as one of her goals.”
Meret lowered her chin. “Damn, Helen. You should be working with the CIA. Your interrogation techniques are freaking awesome.”
Helen resumed sipping coffee from her cup by holding it in both hands while she smiled with narrow eyes like the Cheshire cat. “Why do you assume I’m not?”
Not sure how she wanted to follow that line of conversation, Meret decided to change it. “I can’t believe you’re still putting in those long days. How’s you staffing requests coming along? Do you think you’ll get to add to your head count this year?”
Her eyes opened and sparkled with enthusiasm. “I am pleased to say that I’ve developed my staff to where I am not spending all my days in my office and sleeping in my secret subterranean suite.”
“You have a secret apartment under the hospital?”
“Actually, you do and it’s yours if you want to use it. Now that I have a full staff, I no longer need to sleep over.”
They laughed together.
She sat back and folded her arms. “You sly fox. You want me to work for you? Doing what?”
“You could be a consultant on retainer. You could conduct a series of lectures on the ethics of biogenetic engineering, issues of security, threats to society, all the things you once complained are not in the current curricula for interns, but that’s entirely up to you.” Helen held her coffee cup in front of her mouth with both hands. “Interested?”
“What kind of retainer?”
“The minimal kind. Just until you get your company off the ground. Use the apartment whenever you want, make it permanent if and when your grandfather cuts you off.”
“Sounds great.”
“Meret, I know this is no more than offering someone a couch in the garage, but as a friend, I hope it restores your sense of control and gives you some piece of mind.”
“I will. How soon can I see it?”
She extended her arm and placed several electronic security cards in her hand. “Use this card for the elevator. There’s no button to push to get to my place. I had your original security badge updated just in case.”
Meret pulled both to her heart. “Helen, you knew I would need these. More CIA insight?” She examined the cards and put them in her zipper pouch. “After our lunch, I’ll take my run and stop off at the hospital.”
“Good. I’ll probably be stuck in a meeting filling my 14-hour day. Check the apartment out and let me know if it suits your needs.”
9
Almost Home
April, Houston - Morning run
Half way through her second circuit around Rice, Meret still found it difficult to dismiss the encounter. Who was that guy? Not a stalker. That made no sense, but neither did anything else. She picked up speed and regained her 3K-pace on her dash down the walkway next to Main Street.
Stopping at the crossing lights for six lanes of rush-hour traffic, she looked around to see if the stalker was anywhere in sight. Extra traffic from a turning lane added to her daily Frogger-Crossing challenge. A gaggle of runners stranded on the island between lanes jogged in place while another leaned on a pole to shake out loose granite. Impatient to get to her apartment, she took advantage of a last-minute decision of a driver to make an illegal U-turn used the narrow gap in traffic to cut diagonally across the busy intersection. When she hit the trail on the far side, she increased her pace and headed directly on a half-mile dash toward the fountains and the Zalea Hotel.
Crap, she saw black SUVs everywhere. No less than three had passed her when she stopped running. To hell with the 3K. That guy was just plain wrong. Reaching for her cell, she called a long-time friend at Rice.
A woman's sharp voice answered. "Political Science Department, how may I place your call?"
"Alice, it's me, Meret Mather. How are you?"
"Still waiting for the University to hire my assistant. How's retirement? Need to talk with Robert?"
"Thank you." Meret knew Alice was one of the meanest gatekeepers she'd ever encountered and appreciated her special treatment. Professor Robert Eastwood, CIA retired, longtime mentor and faculty member at large on her dissertation team had access to powerful people no one else even knew existed.
"Meret. Family good? What can I do for you? What do you need?"
Not wanting to talk about her grandfather anyway, she sidestepped the question, even though she knew it was sincere. "I had a bad encounter on my morning run with a guy who claims to be CIA."
"Hell of a pickup line. Think I'll stick with my old Sheriff's badge. Seriously, we need to get on this. Who is this guy claiming to be?"
"I just emailed you a clip of video of our encounter. His ID says he is Special Agent Granger Hawking."
"Good. I want to get on this clown before anyone gets hurt."
"I know it's not your circus and he's not your monkey, but I smell trouble and really appreciate anything you can do for me."
"I'll see what I can do and give you a callback."
"Thank Robert. Really. Thanks."
"Sure thing, kid."
God, she needed a long hot shower to feel clean again. Dashing through the staffed valet parking entrance and up the short stairway, she rode the elevator to the top floor ran to her apartments. She locked the door and looked through the peephole to see if that man had followed her. God. She was suddenly terrified.
With her fists pressed against her lips, she and breathed, in out, in, out hard.
She speed-dialed her personal concierge at the Zalea. "Clark, I want to watch out for somebody for me." In a non-to-steady voice, she told him what had happened, starting with the baby carriage and ending with her panic attack. His response was what she knew it would be. He told her to sit down and take deep breaths."
"You did the right thing calling Robert. He will straighten this all out. Until they find out more about him, maybe you could run with a partner. Tell me what he looks like so we can keep him out of this hotel."
I'll send you a picture."
"Oh, got it." Clark said. "If you're not sitting yet, sit now. No, no, don't be alarmed. Okay, sweetheart?" His voice lowered, and he spoke with a tinge of conspiracy. "He just checked out of the hotel."
"Oh my God, Clark. What name did he use?"
"Hang on, let me bring it up. Ah, here it is. His credit card says, Granger Hawking. He signed in as G. Hawking. Nothing says anything about him being CIA."
"Did he ask about me? Did he call anyone?"
"I'll have to find out who was on duty and call you back." He paused. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this. Go get that shower you wanted.
Good. The damn man had rattled her cage. Could he really be CIA? No. Hell no, not a chance." As she turned the water on, her cell phone rang. "Clark? What did you find?"
"I spoke with Tom, the new boy, who had the front desk at the time. He remembered the guy."
"Really? Did you ask? Did he ask about me?"
"
Tom said the guy checked in when the desk was busy and only asked about directions for running."
"That doesn't sound like anything out of the ordinary?"
"Anything else?"
No. Tom did say he remembered the guy took a call from a woman he called Katya, but nothing more."
"Katya? Why did Tom notice that?"
"Well, you know Tom, he loves Russian women and probably dated one named Katya." He chuckled. "The boy has a sharp mind and remembers everything about things he loves and."
"Loves Russian women? Isn't Tom gay?"
"Technically. I think it's more of a fashion thing. He did mention your guy was arguing with her?"
"Did he remember anything about that?"
"He just wanted her to meet him at IAD. He said he didn't like how long he'd had to wait the last time."
"He meant the airport?"
"Yeah, I think. Washington Dulles International."
"That's about it. Oh, Tom said the guy seemed agitated so he offered him a bottle of water. The guy took it without so much as a thank you, and after drinking half of it walked behind the desk and tossed it into Tom's trashcan. Then he left the building."
As she got caught up in the mystery, Meret calmed down. "This is all too strange, Clark. I put in a call to a friend and see what I could learn about this jerk."
"Good plan. Remember when you told me about the importance of collecting trace from a crime scene? After what you told me, I wondered if the guy was who he claimed to be. Tom's trash can is never emptied, so I looked and low and behold, only one bottle was in there." He tittered. "Wait for it. Using a pencil and a plastic bag like they do in NCIS. I retrieved it. I'm sure it's his."
"Yes. You'd make a good detective, Clark. "After that shower we talked about, I'll be right over for it."
"Right. Remember, I'm still on your speed dial, so call me if you need me."