by Mike Ryan
“We can be pretty clever sometimes. You know how it is. So, are you ever gonna tell me about the guy you’re working with?”
“Who?” Recker asked, feigning ignorance.
“You know, the smaller guy you work with. Kind of looks like a nerd.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Lawson smiled, impressed he was going the distance with his story, not that she really expected anything less. She probably would have been more surprised if he’d actually admitted he had a partner. Not one to give up herself, she opened her folder up again and pulled out some pictures and slid them across the table. Recker hesitantly picked up the 4x6 photos and went through them one at a time. He peered up over the pictures at Lawson, wondering how he could have been so sloppy. Every picture was one of him, or Jones, or of the both of them together since they moved to Detroit.
“So, what are you going to do with these?” Recker said.
“Nothing. I didn’t bring them to blackmail you or warn you of anything. Just to let you know we’re aware of your whereabouts. If we wanted you, we’d have picked you up already. I figured the pictures would be more proof for you to trust me. I recall you saying something to me about not trusting people. I figured it still applied.”
“You can’t put a name to the face?”
“No. We’ve run him through all the databases we have and we can’t seem to come up with anything. Who is he?”
“Who’s asking? Michelle Lawson the person? Or Michelle Lawson the CIA agent?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s say Michelle Lawson the person then.”
Recker nodded, then looked away at the bustling crowd, trying to figure out how he’d phrase the answer. “His name is David. His situation is a little different from mine.”
“David what?”
“Doesn’t really matter. Neither name I’d give you is his real identity anyway and it wouldn’t come up in your computers regardless.”
“So why him? What made you throw in with him?” Lawson said.
“He actually sought me out,” Recker said, remembering their first meeting at the airport. “He gave me an interesting proposition and I decided to take him up on it.”
“Doing what? Playing hero?”
“He wanted to make a difference somewhere. Help good people who needed help. Plus, I needed a job and a reason to keep going after London.”
“I’m guessing he’s pretty good with computers.”
“Yeah, you could say.”
“He’d have to be to hide his identity even from us, not to mention get the information you guys need to do what you’re doing,” Lawson said. “So, is he on the run too?”
“Uhh, not from you. Why all the interest in him? Wondering if he’s a former agent too?”
“No. It’s more of a personal curiosity. Just wondering how and why you got into what you’re doing now. So, what makes you wanna go back to Philly?”
“I dunno. I guess I just felt a connection there. Like I belonged.”
“Well, you won’t hear from us again, unless you decide you want to join up again.”
“Not likely.”
“The police now know you there, though, so you’ll have to deal with them on your own. But according to Commissioner Boyle, half the force wants to shake your hand, though the other half probably wants to shoot you on sight. But you know we can’t do much about it. Your problem.”
“I know,” Recker said. “What about you? Eventually they’re gonna realize I’m back. Are they gonna give you a hard time about not taking me in?”
“Ehh, not really my concern. I don’t answer to them. If they ask, I’ll just say you escaped.”
“And if they ask for your help again?”
“We’re not in that business anymore. We have other, more pressing matters to attend to.”
Satisfied with her answers so far, Recker started turning the questions around. “So, what do they have you working on these days? Besides keeping tabs on me obviously. You hunting down a new rogue agent?”
“No, not at the moment. Right now, they have me on special assignment. For the past few months I’ve been helping to run Centurion since they’re down a director. As soon as they appoint a new head, they’ll switch me to something else.”
“I hope you’ve eliminated the program where they terminate good agents for no apparent reason.”
“Yeah, it’s being run a little differently these days. Hopefully for the better.”
“If you’re involved I’m sure it is.”
Recker was still fumbling with the pictures, periodically looking at them, but eventually stopped and attempted to slide them back over to his guest. Lawson, though, returned the favor and slid them back to him.
“You can keep them if you like,” Lawson said. “I don’t think we really have need for them anymore.”
Recker smiled, appreciative of the gesture. “If you’re not careful I might actually end up liking you.”
“Now that’d be a catastrophe.”
“These little meeting of ours almost seems like it’s going too well. You don’t happen to have a few men waiting outside, ready to pump some lead into me, do you?”
“Now where would you get such a crazy idea?”
“It might’ve been mentioned to me somewhere along the drive here.”
“Your partner thought it was a bad idea, huh?”
“Something like that,” Recker said. “He’s not as trusting as I am.”
“Well you can take those pictures back to him and let him know neither of you have anything to fear from us. You don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.”
3
Recker’s meeting with Lawson took much longer than he had anticipated as they didn’t wrap things up until two o’clock. They enjoyed talking to each other openly and honestly, without the need for secrecy as so often summed up meetings with people in their line of work. By the time they finished, Recker was convinced he had nothing to fear from her. He also knew he didn’t have to worry about being shot once he left the restaurant, as Jones had suggested. When Recker did finally leave the restaurant, he drove around the city for another hour, soaking in the sights of The Big Apple before he returned to Michigan.
He got back to the Detroit area around midnight and immediately went to his apartment to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Before doing so, he let Jones know everything went OK at the meeting and he’d fill him in when he got to the office in the morning. Recker didn’t provide any other details. He figured if he dropped the bombshell that the CIA still knew where they were, and had the pictures to prove it, neither of them would wind up sleeping. With the way Jones’ mind worked, Recker knew he’d stay up all night peppering him with questions on how it was possible and trying to think of a way to get out from underneath their grasps.
Once Recker arrived in the office in the morning, he was armed with some breakfast sandwiches, along with the photos Lawson had given him. He figured it was about to be a long day. He just hoped Jones didn’t freak out as much as he thought he would. After both sat down to start eating, Recker reached into his pocket to remove the pictures. He placed them face down in front of Jones.
“What’s this?” Jones asked, putting the remaining half of his sandwich down.
“A gift from my meeting.”
Jones wiped his hands and looked at his partner, sure he was not going to like what he was about to see as he picked them up. There were ten pictures in all, and with each one he passed, Jones’ face became even more flabbergasted. He didn’t glance up at Recker one time as he perused the pictures. Recker was trying to analyze his friend’s face as he looked through the photos and could obviously see Jones had become uncomfortable with what he was seeing, though he didn’t voice any concerns yet. Maybe he was just too surprised for him to vocalize anything. After looking through the set of pictures three times, Jones finally was able to take his eyes off them
as he set them back down on the table.
“These were from Ms. Lawson?”
“Yep,” Recker said.
“She knows where we are. She knows who I am.”
“Well, not quite. They now know you’re involved and have a picture of you. Fortunately for you, your face isn’t recognized in any of their databases. They haven’t actually put a name to you yet.”
“I guess that’s something,” Jones said, only looking slightly relieved. “So, what does all this mean? Should we be reinforcing the doors today?”
Recker let out a small laugh. “No. We’re in the clear. They’re not coming for us, or more specifically, me. They’ve known where we were since the day we got here. If they wanted us, they would’ve gotten us long before now.”
“So, what now then? What are their plans?”
“They have none. Lawson said I’ve been taken off their to-do-list. I don’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. No one’s coming.”
Jones looked at him incredulously with the revelation. “Are you sure you can believe her?”
“Well, she’s had the chance to take me out twice. There’s no logical reason to let me walk away twice.”
“I see,” Jones said, seemingly having a hard time processing everything. “And uhh...what of me? Am I included in that?”
“They’re not after you. She wondered who you were more out of a personal curiosity than professional interest. She gave me those pictures so I’d believe that they weren’t after us. It’s proof that they could’ve taken us out at any time since we’ve been here. They know this office and where we are at this exact minute. They don’t care.”
“Startling.”
“The man who originally put the kill order on me is no longer in control of Centurion,” Recker said.
“This is...a lot to take in right now.”
“I know. But it’s also grounds for us to go back to Philly, right? Admit it, you don’t like it here as much as back there, do you?”
“I will admit a certain fondness for there that I have not yet acquired here. But that may also be that I don’t get out as much here, with having the bedroom off the main office,” Jones said.
“We established something there. A name, an identity, an intimidation factor...we haven’t gotten that here. And maybe in time we will, but we already invested ourselves there.”
“And the police? Did Ms. Lawson give you assurances about them as well?”
“No, of course not. The police are our concern. But that’s the way it’s gonna be no matter where we go. We can handle them, though. Besides, Lawson told me half the police force there is on our side anyway.”
Jones took another bite of his sandwich before leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, giving the matter more thought. He wasn’t against the move back to Philadelphia, and he’d probably enjoy it more than he’d let on, but part of him felt that by moving again so soon, they just wasted the last six months. But he did miss the city streets, the vibe of the place, the few relationships he did have, such as Mia, and even the few times he’d met or talked with Tyrell. He still owned the office and laundromat, so it’d be easier moving back there than it was setting up shop in Detroit. Recker had moved to another computer to work on things, giving Jones some time to himself to collect his thoughts on the subject. After thirty minutes, Jones was ready to announce his opinion.
“If I do agree to go back, we cannot just pick up and leave. We have a few things to finish here, people who need help. I don’t want to just abandon them.”
“Agreed,” Recker said.
“But I can start the process by unplugging the software program, so to speak, so we don’t get additional cases.”
“How many do we have now?”
“Four. I would think as soon as they’re done, we can head back.”
They talked a little while longer about the ramifications of moving back, with Recker wanting to make sure Jones was completely on board and not just giving him lip service. The longer they discussed it, the more comfortable Jones became with it, and sounded just as excited as Recker was to be about going back. He did miss it too, he was just more convincing with putting up a front to disguise it. Recker immediately started working on their remaining cases, wanting to wrap things up as quickly as possible. He hoped to be back in Philadelphia within a week, which was probably a bit of a reach.
Once Recker latched onto an idea and really got behind something, it would be wise for everyone to get out of his way. Though Jones had doubts he’d be able to finish the four cases within a week, Recker worked overtime and sacrificed a few hours of sleep every night in order to accomplish it. Eight days after they agreed to return to Philadelphia, they wrapped up all their remaining cases in Detroit. Except for one last hiccup. Jones had a moving van outside the office and most of their things had already been removed from the office. But he left one computer running until the very last minute, just in case of an emergency. He had a fear how the moment they left, something major would go down and somebody would get hurt or killed. Something which could’ve been prevented if they were still around. Jones was standing by the computer, getting ready to shut it off and pull the plug, when he got one final alert. It was a familiar name and phone number. Recker just finished putting the last of the boxes in the van when he walked into the office and saw Jones standing in front of the computer.
“What’s up?” Recker asked.
Jones turned to him without saying a word. His face did all the talking Recker needed though.
“Don’t even tell me,” Recker said. “David, we’re ready to go.”
Jones didn’t reply and turned back to the computer, looking at the screen. Recker, slightly agitated Jones was considering another case when they were just about to leave, walked over to him. His first inclination was to not look at anything and turn everything off for Jones, then they wouldn’t have to bother with anything. But, like Jones, Recker couldn’t just turn his back on someone who legitimately needed help. After all, it was what he did, what he lived for. Reluctantly, Recker stood beside his partner and looked at the screen. After quickly scanning the monitor, Recker looked a little more closely at the information. His face turned from annoyed to concern, then to anger. He had a feeling this would happen. Some people just couldn’t change their spots. The two men stood there silently, both knowing what was about to happen. Jones looked over at Recker and sighed, feeling like this might’ve been his fault. If he’d have let Recker do what he wanted to do in the first place, Teresa Golden might not have been suffering from the new batch of bruises at the hands of her husband. Jones picked up another text message sent from Teresa to her sister, detailing the latest attack. Though her sister implored her to go to the authorities, and the hospital, Teresa refused both requests, not wanting to get anyone else involved. Richard Golden blamed his wife for him getting beat up, believing she must have gabbed about his infractions to somebody.
“I guess he didn’t get the message,” Recker said.
“I should’ve let you do what you wanted from the start.”
“You can’t blame yourself for other people’s actions.”
“But you predicted this would happen. I should’ve listened,” Jones said.
“Yeah, but you can’t take responsibility for it. It’s on them. Not on you.”
“Should we take care of this before we go?”
Recker reached inside his coat and removed a gun, double checking to make sure it was loaded. “Absolutely. But we’ll take care of it my way.”
“Understood.”
“Why don’t you finish up here and start heading back? I’ll do what I have to do then meet up with you somewhere along the road.”
Recker immediately left the office and got in his truck to meet Golden before he got to work. Recker wasn’t going to be able to catch him before he left his house and he wasn’t sure if his wife and kids would still be there anyway. And Recker wasn’t going to do what he had to in front of them. Golden worked in
downtown Detroit at an office building with a parking garage. Recker would be there waiting for him. From their initial investigation of Golden, before Recker dusted him up inside his home, they knew Golden got to work at nine o’clock every day. Recker got to the garage at 8:30. He parked near the entrance inside so once he saw Golden arrive, he could follow him to his spot. At 8:55, Recker spotted Golden’s car enter the garage. He gave Golden a short lead of a few seconds before tailing him. Once Golden pulled into a spot against the wall, Recker pulled up behind the rear bumper of the car, blocking it from reversing. Golden was consumed with getting some of his things together and didn’t even noticed the impending danger looming. Recker noticed there were no security cameras near the entrance, so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted. It wouldn’t have concerned him if there were since he was leaving the city right after this anyway.
Recker got out of his car and walked around the hood until he stood just outside of the driver side window. Golden was leaning over toward the passenger side seat where he was looking through some papers, still oblivious to the dangerous man who was only inches away on the other side of the glass. Recker figured he’d make a grand entrance and took the handle of his gun and smashed the window. Golden jumped in his seat, surprised at the falling glass. He put his arms up over his head to try and protect himself. Once he put his arms down and looked at the man on the other side of his window, he started to shake. It was partly out of fear, knowing what his attacker was capable of, remembering what he did to him before. The other half of him was shaking because he was injured, as small pieces of glass lodged into his face and arm. Recker turned the gun around and pointed it at the frightened man.
“Guess you didn’t get the message from our last meeting,” Recker said.
“Go to hell. What I do with my family is my business.”
“Wrong answer.”
Recker didn’t wish to continue the conversation any longer or put off the inevitable. He simply pulled the trigger and fired two rounds into Golden’s chest. Recker’s victim slumped over across the middle console, perishing immediately upon the bullets entering his body. Recker stood there for a moment, analyzing his work, and shook his head.