by Young, Mark
He shrugged. “What can I say?”
She reached down and began to unbuckle his belt. “Are you sure I can’t get you to tell me what you’re up to?”
Trapping her hand on his belt, he tried to push her away. “Not tonight.”
Marilynn moved closer. “You sure?” She straddled his lap, pressing against him. Her lips traveled across his cheek, ending at his earlobe.
Gerrit felt himself weaken. This was not love, not even lust for him anymore. It lay somewhere between the two—when nightmares and memories seemed overpowering and two bodies coming together managed to push back the pain for a moment. He used to feel guilty, as if he might be using her for his own personal gratification. But as time passed, he realized they were using each other. He just didn’t understand her purpose. Nor did he care.
She must have felt his body give in, responding to her embrace. “See. I told you—I always win.” She smiled, slowly and seductively climbed off his lap, then led him by the hand to the bedroom.
Whispers awoke him hours later. He raised his head from the pillow and glanced toward the red glare of the digital clock. 3:00 a.m.
He rose and stumbled over a shoe as he padded his way toward the bedroom door. He heard Marilynn’s voice, hushed, coming from the other room. The door stood ajar. He peered through the opening.
She huddled in the kitchen, farthest away from the bedroom. She must have snatched up one of his T-shirts. The green glow from the oven light fell across her body, bathing her in muted light. She covered her mouth, a cell phone pressed against her ear. She glanced toward the bedroom and he drew back. “You might wake him up.”
Marilynn listened for a moment, as the man continued talking. She finally responded. “No. He is not telling me anything. I tried…believe me, I tried.”
Gerrit thought back to earlier, after their passion subsided. Marilynn casually tried to elicit information about where he went in England and why he was leaving again. He chalked it up to her insatiable curiosity. Kane had ordered a lid on all this information, so Gerrit revealed nothing to Marilynn. This seemed to irritate her.
As Gerrit opened the door all the way, Marilynn jerked her head up and seemed to stiffen. “I’ve got to go. I’ll…I’ll call you from the office.”
“Who was that?” Gerrit walked toward her.
“Hey, I’m sorry I woke you. Got this call and heard it vibrate. Thought I could return it in here without disturbing you.”
He waited for further clarification.
“Just work.” She dropped the phone on the counter, crossing her arms. “We have a surveillance going on in another case, and the guys were just checking in.”
Gerrit watched her face, trying to figure out why she was lying.
She walked past him into the bedroom and began gathering her clothes. “I need to get back to the office. Need to return this call on a more secure line.” She disappeared into the bathroom. “Be out in a jiffy. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
He waited until he heard the shower turn on and then reached for her phone. Flicking on the menu, he thumbed to the last call received, hit the Select button, and a menu emerged. The words Private Caller flashed on the readout. He tapped to the last incoming call and saw the number of the caller Marilynn spoke to. He glanced at the number, recognizing the numerals immediately.
Richard Kane.
Why was Kane calling her in the middle of the night—here?
Footsteps sounded across the bedroom. Marilynn appeared at the doorway, toweling herself off. “I forget my…”—she glanced at what he was holding—”my phone.”
He held it up. “Just getting it for you. Saw it here on the counter.”
The darkness prevented him from seeing her expression, but her voice seemed tight. “Just drop it in my purse. I’m almost ready.”
He complied, turning on a table lamp near the couch. Her purse had been left on the floor. He stooped down and slipped the phone inside. A few minutes later she emerged, fully clothed. He handed her the purse. “The cell’s inside. Wouldn’t want you to miss any more calls.”
Her eyes, questioning, shifted from the purse to his face. She brushed his cheek with her lips. “Call me later. Maybe we can do dinner?”
He nodded, watching her leave. He heard her car start up, tires slipping on gravel. Quietness settled around him.
He slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt before walking to the glass door. He slid it open and stepped out onto a small porch that sat only inches above the lake. He looked over the water toward downtown Seattle. Cold night air made him shiver. He watched as the running lights from a small craft cut through the night, the city’s silhouette beyond.
The dark water below him ebbed and flowed as small waves slightly raised and lowered the houseboat. Water carried a certain amount of force, of power, that moved like an unseen hand beneath him. Like his life, this current pushed and pulled without permission. Life seemed to forge ahead, inextricably dragging him along in its wake.
A warning blast from a horn carried across the water, bringing him back to the present. This feeling of emptiness—starting when his CO broke the news about his folks years ago—hounded him whether he was awake or asleep. There would be no peace until he learned what happened. Until then, he would just exist, even in moments when he and Marilynn lay on the bed in a passionate embrace. That phone call she fielded reminded him once again about how much his world had changed.
And who he could trust.
Chapter 13
Vienna, Austria
The trip to meet Kane and the reason for using an alias still nagged at him. Clearly, Kane or Senator Summers didn’t want Gerrit’s earlier travel to the United Kingdom to be flagged for some reason. Why?
Passport in hand, Gerrit approached the front counter of the Radisson Blu Palais Hotel. At least he was traveling under his right name on this trip. No hocus-pocus.
“Dr. O’Rourke.” A young woman extended her hand as he approached the counter, her heavy Germanic accent seemed to add more allure to this historic site. “May I assist in your check-in? I am working with Dr. Clarke to make sure his entourage is taken care of.”
“Vielen Dank, Fräulein…?”
“Helene.” She bobbed her head self-consciously. “Sie sind herzlich eingeladen. You are welcome, sir.”
Gerrit finished checking in as Helene stood by. When he was through, he turned to her. “I understand this hotel was originally built as two palaces in 1872.”
Helene nodded. “Yes, sir. And I am pleased to point out that we are overlooking Vienna’s famous Stadtpark. You will be able to see a number of monuments here, including one devoted to Johann Strauss.” She pointed proudly.
As Gerrit started to reach for his luggage, Helene shook her head. “I will have someone take your bags up. Dr. Clarke is waiting in the Palaise Café.” She gestured in the direction he ought to go.
He slipped money to the bellhop already grabbing his belongings. Waiting until Helene and the man walked away, Gerrit found his way to the café.
Henry Clarke waved from across the dining area as Gerrit entered. “Ah, Dr. O’Rourke. Good to see you’ve arrived safely. Mr. Lawton’s associates have been keeping me company.” Clarke motioned with his chin toward two men seated a couple tables away, a pink linen-covered table pulled out to allow both men to sit with their backs to the far wall. Teacups in hand, they looked like two NFL football players attending a women’s tea party. “I feel well protected, now that you’re here,” Clarke said, each word liberally doused with sarcasm.
Gerrit nodded to the two men. They eyed him without returning the greeting.
“The chap on the right is heading up our party here. I will introduce you after our tea.”
A waiter set a cup and saucer in front of Gerrit. Clarke leaned closer. “I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and ordered for you.”
Gerrit thanked the waiter, taking a sip out of courtesy. He hated the taste, like weak coffee squeezed through a filter a doz
en times before getting to his cup. Dishwater had more kick. He tried not to wince.
Clarke sipped his tea. The scientist carefully set down his cup before speaking. “Dr. O’Rourke, may I speak bluntly since we are finally alone?”
“Certainly, Doctor.”
“Let’s drop all this doctor stuff, shall we? You’ve been out of the business so long I hesitate using your title. From what I gather, you’ve been off gallivanting with bobbies since your parents died. Have you used any of your academic training since that time?”
“That is none of your concern…Henry.”
The scientist’s jaw tightened. “While you remain in my service, O’Rourke, you’re just a glorified errand boy. My own private muscle, if you will. Don’t embarrass me in front of my colleagues.”
“Don’t worry, Henry. I’m sure you can manage that all on your own.” He instantly regretted his retort to Clarke. Focus on the primary mission, even if it meant putting up with this guy’s ego. “Look, neither of us asked for me to be here. My government—and apparently yours—believe there’s some risk to you. I intend to work with your folks,” he nodded to the two agents across the room, “to make sure you return home safely. We can part ways at that time. Until then, let’s try to work together. And I will try not to…embarrass you while I’m here. Fair enough?”
Clarke stared back sullenly. “Just stay out of my way.”
Gerrit lowered his eyes to make it appear he relented. The man’s belligerent attitude seemed out of place, unlike their meeting in Harrogate. Maybe Kane and George Lawton sitting in the same room forced Clarke to mask his true feelings back there. Not anymore.
Clarke leaned back for a moment, letting his breath out slowly. “I have—we have—certain pressures on the CESG right now, and maybe—”
“Forget it. Let’s just get you home safely, shall we?”
Looking resigned, Clarke nodded.
One of the two NFL guys sauntered up, the man Clarke singled out as heading up security. “Everything okay, Dr. Clarke?” The man kept his eyes focused on Gerrit as he spoke.
“Just fine, James. Have you met Dr. O’Rourke? As you know, he’s joining our entourage for a few days. Doctor, this is James Stafford.”
The man’s grip tried to crush Gerrit’s hand. “We need to talk, Dr. O’Rourke. Make sure our efforts are adequately coordinated.”
Gerrit gingerly extracted his hand. “Anytime you’re ready.”
“Meet you upstairs when Dr. Clarke is finished here?” James provided a room number. “In about twenty minutes?” The man turned and rejoined his partner without waiting for Gerrit’s reply.
Flexing his hand, trying to get feeling back, Gerrit watched Stafford whisper to his partner across the room. Between Clarke and Stafford, Gerrit felt about as welcome as a vegetarian at a barbeque rib cook-off. If he didn’t watch himself, they just might throw him on their grill and roast him alive.
Chapter 14
35,000 Feet above the Atlantic Ocean
Turbulence jostled Richard Kane as he reached for the phone. All the money he spent on this jet—with all its luxury and comfort—could not buy him a smooth flight. The Global 8000 business jet dipped suddenly as if a giant hand let go and allowed the aircraft to free fall. A few moments later, the pilot raised the nose, slowly regaining altitude.
Cradling the receiver in one hand, Kane dialed a memorized number and let it ring. A sultry woman’s voice came on the line. “Richard, I’d know your tone anywhere.”
Kane breathed heavily, remembering his time with her only a few months ago when he was recruiting. The only language she spoke was the dollar bill—or euro. She was worth every cent.
“Collette, my dear. How’s Vienna?”
“Very productive. And on your end?”
Kane dispensed with the niceties. “Time’s short, Collette. I have to know whether Gerrit will be a team player. Everything is set to be launched in just a few weeks. Maybe sooner. I need him on board when we launch—or terminated if he chooses to walk away. Understand?”
“I understand, Richard.”
“Good. Gerrit just reached the hotel. He’s in play. Are your people ready?”
“We will be when I hang up. Au revoir, Richard.”
Kane killed the connection.
Gerrit reached James Stafford’s room, trying to knock twice in quick succession. Stafford yanked the door open before Gerrit could strike a second time.
“Grab a chair.” James quickly closed the door behind Gerrit.
The room was sparse, compared to Clarke’s, but even so it gleamed with elegance. After Gerrit sat down, James dragged a chair across the room and turned it around so he could straddle it. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, as you Yanks are apt to say. We don’t need an American telling us how to protect Clarke. So…why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here.”
“Hang it, man. I know when George Lawton is behind something; it’s never what it seems. I don’t want to get shot—or fail in my duties to protect Clarke—because you and your CIA spooks are up to no-good, keeping us in the dark. Tell me what you’re up to or I’ll bounce you off this detail.”
“I thought the British were more tactful. And what makes you think I work for the CIA?”
Stafford glared at him without answering.
“By the way, don’t you work for Lawton?”
“I work for a lot of people,” he said, ignoring any further reference to the CIA, as if it was already understood.
“What did Lawton tell you?” Gerrit knew he was buying time. He tried to figure how to handle this without making another enemy. Clarke was enough to deal with right now.
“Never mind about him. I want to hear it from you.”
“Just stay focused on Clarke and you’ll be in the clear. That’s all I can tell you.”
Stafford shoved himself off the chair. “I knew it. Lawton’s got his hands into something else and using this as cover.”
“I’d let it alone. Better if you just do what you’re told…just like me.”
“Playing the good soldier, eh? Could get you killed in this business.”
“So could riding in a car. But we do it anyway.”
“A car only gets you and other passengers dead. This business can kill a lot more people. Particularly when you don’t know what you’re up against.”
“You have to trust the ones you’re working with.”
Stafford sneered. “What kind of world are you living in? In my business, I trust no one. That’s how I stay alive.”
Gerrit eased himself from the chair. Trust was a word he rarely used. It had been a long time since he thought of trusting anyone. The older he got, the less trust he had in people. James hit it on the head. Trust no one.
Particularly men like Richard Kane.
“I’m not an idiot,” Gerrit said. “I imagine we’ve both worked on the dark side, taking chances and doing things for God and country that others never hear about. I know the cost of doing business. We’ve both paid that price. So, let’s get about our business and trust that everything turns out all right.”
Stafford grimaced. “This is not some fairy tale, O’Rourke. People get hurt. People die. That’s just the way things are.”
Gerrit strode to the door. “At times good people die and bad people survive. It’s our job to try to even the score. Just do your job and stay out of my way. See you downstairs.”
He slammed the door behind him, knowing that he was on his own. The story of his life in a nutshell.
Chapter 15
Vienna, Austria
Scientists could make a gunfight sound as dry as Death Valley. Gerrit couldn’t take much more of this dribble.
It was the third day of the conference. Bored, Gerrit returned to his hotel room to find a brown leather briefcase on his bed. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, brightening an otherwise drab day. He’d left Henry Clarke minutes ago as the scientist continued to drone on as a member of the
panel, boring everyone in the room about cyber security.
Kane had reached Gerrit by phone yesterday, telling him to expect this briefcase and provided a combination to open it. The lock sprung open as he entered the last digit of the combination and pressed the release. He found a laptop and a zippered leather pouch inside. Opening the pouch, he found a key, an address to an apartment he was to visit, a small wad of latex gloves, and a cell phone.
Everything a burglar might need to commit a felony.
He pulled out the computer to examine it more closely. Kane had advised that this laptop was registered under the same alias Gerrit used to travel to Harrogate. He was to switch out his current ID with the John Gerrity documents.
Let the games begin.
The cell phone vibrated from an incoming call. Pressing the Send button, he placed the phone to his ear. Kane was on the line.
“You get everything we sent you?”
“Yeah. Just a minute ago. You watching me?”
“I like to think of it as protection. Yes, we’re watching over you.” Kane hesitated. “Remember, use a cab to get around. Have them drop you off several blocks away. Pay cash. Are we clear?”
“I got it. This is not my first time to the dance.”
“The next call you get will be the signal. Stay put until then and be ready to move.” Kane hung up.
Gerrit settled back to wait for the call. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. With everything on his mind, he knew rest would not be an option.
Evening shadows now danced outside as Gerrit opened his eyes. He felt the cell phone inside his front pocket vibrate with an incoming call.
“Dr. O’Rourke?” A woman’s voice.
“Yes?”
Someone knocked on his door. Gerrit, phone at his ear, moved to the door.
The woman’s voice came on the line again. “Your friend from England wanted me to tell you it is time to leave.”
Before responding, he flung open the door.
A woman stood in the hallway, phone in hand. She flipped it closed and walked in without an invitation. “Dr. O’Rourke, I presume. Are you ready?”