Ajacks paused to take one more drag off his cigarette and a sip of his drink. “The Vice President would step in to handle the day-to-day operations and slowly bring in his own staff to help him. These would be men and women that the public already knows, and by the time the President peacefully passes away, the adults will already be on the job.”
Mr. Ajacks raised his voice. “Everyone, meaning both Democrats and Republicans, will feel safe for the first time in three years. What we need from you, Mr. Hall, is a slow acting but deadly poison. Something that will be hard to trace and easily covered up. Something that will kill a 78-year-old man in 50 to 60 days. Do we have such a compound, Tim?”
“Working on it, boss,” Tim answered, but he knew right away that this was not what Mr. Ajacks wanted to hear.
Pam then spoke up. “My husband is a little shy. We have developed a working prototype that will deliver the poison. It is a type of fork. A killer fork.”
“A killer fork, you say?” Ajacks sounded impressed.
“Yes sir,” Pam agreed, “one that could be substituted at a state dinner. But, of course, placing the fork at the dinner has not been worked out yet.”
“We can take care of that, Pam,” Ajacks reassured her. “When can you deliver your killer fork?”
“Next week, sir.”
“Next week when?” Ajacks shot back.
“Thursday?” Pam asked.
“Wednesday,” Ajacks replied.
“Wednesday it is.”
Pam was finished, and Ajacks was ready to go. “Well, it does appear that at least most of your team is on the same page, Sebastian, so if there are no more questions, I will be going. It was a pleasure to meet you, Pam,” Ajacks remarked as he ignored Tim and turned for the door.
Sebastian got in between Tim and Ajacks, which partly blocked Tim’s view of the man, although Tim was pretty sure about Ajacks’ identity. Ajacks hadn’t gone out of his way to hide that from Tim, after all.
As Sebastian walked Mr. Ajacks outside, Pam gave Tim one of her looks. “I feel like I have a fucking teenager in the house,” Pam said as she began to gear up for her admonishment. “If you have any questions about the operation, you ask me or Sebastian. You do not ask Ajacks.”
Tim turned and began to walk away, but Pam caught up to him and lowered her voice to a kind of mean whisper. “Listen to me. I am trying very hard to give these assholes a reason to keep you around after all of this is over, but you have not been helping. Why is that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Pam,” Tim began, “maybe it has something to do with me being pulled into a plot to assassinate the President of the United States.”
Pam was getting ready to respond when Sebastian came back into the house. Tim ignored Sebastian and headed down to the lab.
Pam started to go after to him, but Sebastian stopped her. “Let him cool off. I’ll speak to him later.”
“I just want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like destroy the prototype fork,” Pam said as she heard the basement door close.
“Not to worry,” Sebastian reassured her. “I have the killer fork right here, safe and sound.”
Chapter 19
Tim’s first thought was to destroy the fork, but maybe he could use it as some kind of leverage. “Let me go or I’ll kill the fork!”
As he looked around it, though, it became apparent that the fork had been taken. Oh well, Tim thought. It would not have been too difficult for them to make a new one, anyway. Or would it?
Maybe that was the real question—and the reason that Tim was here in the first place. Tim’s training had taught him that when a group decides to kill a head of state, the less people who knew about it, the better. So how many people knew about this plan? 10? 20? It was hard to say, but it was most likely no more than 20. The three of them and Ajacks made four, but then there had to be some management types and a couple of agents in the Secret Service who were aware of the plan, plus some people at the FBI. There was certainly no love lost between the FBI and this administration, Tim thought. So, there would be a total of between 20 to 25 conspirators involved, and Tim was being used simply for economic reasons.
Like many occupations, the modern-day Agency had become a company of specialists, i.e., men and women who performed one particular task and only that particular task. Tim, on the other hand, was an old school spy who knew how to do a lot of different things. In the modern-day Agency, developing the fork might have taken 10 to 20 employees at the minimum. Engineers to design it, mechanics to put it together, chemists to test the poisons, testers to make sure it all worked, with meetings, meetings, and more meetings. The inclusion of Tim simply bypassed all of that red tape.
Although he no longer had the fork in his possession, Tim had determined that Sebastian and Pam still needed him, which would give him some more time to figure things out.
Tim pulled out his cell phone and checked both his voicemail and text messages. Nothing from Mary Ann. He had texted her yesterday, and it was a little unlike her not to at least leave some kind of message, even if she was pissed off at him. It was also not lost on Tim that Toby was not around. Somebody had brought a car around for Sebastian during the day on Friday, and he had indicated to Pam that he would not be spending the night.
None of this meant anything, at least in regard to Mary Ann and her safety. Sebastian must also have a life somewhere, and maybe he just wanted to take the weekend off from his work. The work of planning assassinations.
The door at the top of the steps opened, and someone began to descend down to the basement.
Tim thought it would be Pam coming to yell at him some more, or perhaps even to apologize—with Pam, you never could guess. Instead, it was the deep and British voice of Sebastian Oak that called out. “Tim? Are you down here? I need to speak with you before I leave.”
“Sure, Sebastian, come on down.” Unintentionally, Tim’s tone had sounded like the announcer on a television game show.
Sebastian entered the laboratory and saw Tim sitting on a stool at one end of the granite worktable. Sebastian sat at the other end, made himself comfortable, and began to speak. “Tim, I feel that I owe you an apology. It was me, after all, who suggested to Pam that we bring you back in, and it was me who tricked you into traveling to the Dominican Republic.”
“Yes, that’s a good place to start, Sebastian. Why did you lure me to Santa Domingo?”
“We were attempting to reverse your amnesia, my friend.”
Tim and Sebastian were far from friends at the moment, but Tim was very interested in finally finding out the purpose of his so-called medical vacation. “Reversing my amnesia, Sebastian?” he asked. “My doctors at John Hopkins told me that could not be done.”
“The FDA has not approved any drugs or treatments involving drugs for amnesia. However, that does not mean that no treatments exist. There are actually quite a lot of things that can be tried,” Sebastian said.
“Things that can be tried?” Tim repeated skeptically. “What kind of things?”
“Well, I’m not a medical man, Tim, and you know that, but I think that we can both say that your treatment was something of a success.”
This was, of course, a rhetorical question. Tim could not deny that whatever treatments were performed had achieved a certain amount of success. At one point, he’d determined that he had lost around four years of his memory, but now it was maybe just a few months. He could not be sure of that, but Tim now recalled most of his life up until the trip to China. That was supposed to be his last assignment before retirement—and, in a sense, it had been.
“If you arranged all of this, Sebastian, why did you insist on collecting $17,500 from me?”
“I said that unapproved methods were applied, Tim. I did not say they were free.” Sebastian was almost laughing now. “Besides, the doctors and locals had to be paid. But if you’re so concerned about the money, I’ll pay you back personally. Will you take a check?”
Tim could not believ
e that Sebastian had the gall to offer this, but he also somehow wasn’t surprised. “Sure, Sebastian, a check will be fine.”
Sebastian produced a checkbook from his suit jacket and began to write. Both of the men knew what a senseless gesture this was, since Tim’s fate had already been sealed. Wising off to the department head certainly did not endear him to anyone, but that probably did not make any difference. Tim figured that he had perhaps until Wednesday, the day of delivery, or maybe a day or two past that. As soon as everyone was convinced the fork would work, Tim was a dead man.
Sebastian pushed the check across the table and over to Tim. Tim picked it up in order to examine it.
Sebastian and Molly Oak, the check read in the left corner. 2365 Eagle Cir, Bethesda, Maryland 20819. Pay to the order of Tim Hall, Seventeen thousand and five hundred dollars and no cents. In the memo line was written, “For Services Rendered.”
Tim’s curiosity got the better of him. “Have I ever met your wife Molly?”
“Oh no, my wife has no idea what I do for a living. She thinks I’m in the import-export business.”
“Yes, aren’t we all?” Tim replied, and both men had a laugh. That was often how these kinds of things went, Tim thought. Nothing personal, this is just part of my job; it was just the standard line people in intelligence gave to one another.
“So, Sebastian, I haven’t seen your friend Toby for a day. Where has he gone off to?”
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Sebastian said with some excitement in his voice. “Toby and Mary Ann have decided to get back together, and Toby requested some time off in order to make that happen. Toby sent me a picture of the two lovebirds.” Sebastian produced his iPhone and showed Tim a selfie. In it was Toby with his arm around Mary Ann’s shoulder, but it looked a little like a chokehold, and Tim could not see Mary Ann’s hands.
“Now, look at this one. I have to agree with you about Mary Ann, Tim. She is exceptionally beautiful,” Sebastian said as he showed Tim the picture. It was a close up of Mary Ann, and Tim saw what appeared to be a bruise below Mary Ann’s right eye, partially covered up by makeup. Sebastian turned his phone off and placed it back in his pocket.
“Toby wanted to be sure I let you know that there is no longer any reason for you to text, call, or email her. In other words, it’s over between you two.” Sebastian got up to leave, adding, “Maybe Pam will take you back.”
When he started heading for the basement steps, Tim was on the other man’s back before Sebastian knew it. Tim took Sebastian by the shoulders, turned him around and shoved him against the stone basement wall.
“Look, you fuck,” Tim’s nose was about two inches from Sebastian face. “Mary Ann doesn’t know anything about any of this, so why don’t you leave her alone?”
Sebastian just smiled at Tim. “That is totally up to you, Tim,” he answered pleasantly. “Yes, Mary Ann and Toby do not know anything about any of this, and my intention has always been to allow both of them to return to Las Vegas. I am not a murderer, no matter what you may think; but I am also not about to sabotage my operation because you have the hots for some Las Vegas bartender. Now, please let go of me before Darrel gets here.”
At that moment, the basement door opened and Darrel, Pam’s security, came down the stairs with his pistol drawn. He had obviously been watching everything on the security cameras.
“Step back, Mr. Hall,” Darrel commanded, and Tim took both of his hands off of Sebastian and raised them in the air. He knew the drill.
“Place your hands behind your head and lace your fingers together.”
“Everything is okay, Darrel,” Sebastian interrupted. “Mr. Hall and I were just having a difference of opinion.” He casually began to straighten the lapels on his suit jacket. “You can leave us; I’m sure that Mr. Hall will behave himself now.”
“Okay, Mr. Oak, as long as you’re sure.” Darrel turned and headed back upstairs.
When he was gone, Sebastian smirked at Tim. “As you can see, Tim, I’m holding all of the cards. All Pam and I want from you is just to cooperate, and who knows? You may even get the chance to cash my check. So, think about it.”
Sebastian turned and headed back upstairs while Tim brought his hands back down to his sides. He certainly did have a lot to think about.
Chapter 20
Tim decided to go to bed. It had been a very long day and an even longer evening. He climbed up the basement stairs and into the library to look for Pam but couldn’t find her. He looked in the kitchen, but she was not there either. She’d probably also gone to bed.
Tim wondered what room Darrel was hiding in. He had to be somewhere close by. Tim wondered if Pam had a secret room somewhere that she’d failed to show him during the initial tour of the house. Besides, as far as Tim knew, Pam was sleeping with Darrel. That thought had crossed his mind.
Tim climbed the steps and started down the hall for his room. He saw that the door to Pam’s room was closed, and he had no intention of knocking.
Tim had removed his clothes and climbed into his bed when he heard a soft knock on his own door. The door opened, and in came Pam, dressed in a floor-length silk robe. Her hair, which had been tied in a bun earlier, was now down to her shoulders. In her right hand was a pair of metal handcuffs, and not the kind you might buy in a sex shop. Real ones that the cops would use.
Pam sat on the edge of Tim’s bed. “Sebastian and Darrel have both advised me to handcuff one of your wrists to the bedpost just to make sure you don’t get any ideas about leaving during the night, but I really thought that was an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“That is probably not the correct method of entertaining your house guests,” Tim joked.
“Oh, I totally agree,” Pam remarked as she opened her robe to reveal the black garter belt and bra she was wearing. “And who knows?” she continued. “You might just turn the tables and handcuff me to the bed.”
Pam dropped her robe and panties to the floor and climbed into the bed with Tim. She closed the end of the handcuff around her left wrist, then pulled the other through the headboard and secured her right wrist. It was quite the trick, but Pam had done it all before. This had been a part of an ongoing game of spy versus spy that Pam and Tim had played with each other over the years. It usually involved Pam playing the victim, although she would also occasionally be the aggressor. Tim had found this out one morning when he woke up hogtied with Pam’s Hermes scarfs.
“If you’re worried, I might make noise, you can always put something in my mouth,” Pam purred.
Tim virtually lost it at this point and was now all over his wife. He began kissing her, first at the top of her head, then working his way down until he reached her feet. He then worked his way back up, stopping here and stopping there. He ended by finishing inside of Pam. Exhausted, he fell asleep on top of her.
The next morning came earlier than Tim would have liked, with the March sun shining through the windows facing east. Tim got up to pee, but he did not get very far. Pam had handcuffed his right wrist to the bed after all. He began to yell for her, but then saw that she was lying right next to him. At least she didn’t leave me, he thought.
“Hey, honey, would you take off the handcuffs? I have to pee.”
Still half asleep, Pam raised her left hand and reached for the end of the handcuff attached to the bed. She gave it a hard pull, and the handcuff opened right up. They were phony handcuffs after all.
“There you go, dear,” Pam mumbled, falling back to sleep.
It was eight on Saturday morning, so Tim decided to let Pam sleep late. He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Darrel drinking a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Darrel. How was your night?”
“Pretty slow, Mr. Hall, after I had to break up you and Mr. Oak.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that Darrel. Sometimes Mr. Oak just rubs me the wrong way.” Tim was guessing that Darrel was not in on the assassination plot. He was just the hired muscle doing what he was in
structed to do.
“That’s not a problem, Mr. Hall,” Darrel said, getting up.
“Don’t leave on my account, Darrel,” Tim said.
“Oh, I have paperwork to catch up on—but thanks.”
Darrel started walking toward the back of the house. Tim leaned back to see if he could see exactly where Darrel was headed, but lost sight of him as he rounded a corner. Tim heard a door closing, but not like a door that rested on hinges. More like a sliding door.
That must be Pam’s secret security room. Most likely, it was behind a hidden door made to look like a bookcase or wall. Tim made a mental note to look for this room later on.
Tim opened the refrigerator, found the eggs and bacon, and began to make breakfast. He was aware that Pam preferred her eggs sunny side up, but he only knew how to scramble them. It took a very long time for Tim to like any kind of eggs, as he never ate them as a child. It was not until Tim was at Berkeley that he even tried an egg. In his freshman year, he ate all of his meals at the college cafeteria, and sometimes scrambled eggs and bacon were the only things available for breakfast. Tim was forced to learn to like them. He smiled at that memory, thinking that he’d been forced to like many things in his life.
Tim made a tray for Pam that included orange juice and coffee along with the bacon and eggs. If he could have located some kind of flower, he would have included that as well. Although he would never admit it to Pam’s face, he did enjoy the little sexual fantasy game, including the part where Pam had somehow slid out from under him and handcuffed him. But that also spoke to Pam’s desire to always be in control. Sure, Pam got off on being dominated, but at the end of the day, she would let you know one way or the other that she was running the show.
The Adults in the Room Page 12