by Estes, Danny
“Why bother?” Randolph yawned, causing her to yawn as well, putting a hand to her mouth. “It’s nearly time to get up anyway.”
Jill glanced at the clock over the stove and seemed to consider for a moment. “No, we deserve a day off. Besides, the big shots will be wandering around acting important today and I’d rather not be pressed into being an escort.” Jill turned her head to reach behind in an effort to scratch her calf, where by her towel slipped, exposing her uncovered skin. Once the itch was taken care of, Jill caught up only the portion in front as she turned to walk back into the bedroom, which left her lovely cheeks exposed. As Randolph watched them disappear in the darker room, he reminded himself. Rolling under the sheets while she was tipsy was out, but now that she’s somewhat sober, that body of hers is fair game.
Jill rolled out from under the covers a little past 10:00 a.m. and put her feet on the floor, stretching. Randolph remained where he was and watched as Jill’s honed muscles flowed under her skin and marveled that he could enjoy the sight of a well-toned woman when he’d always gone for the ones with more meat on their bones. “Where you going?” Randolph asked, propping himself up as she stood.
Jill got clear of the bed and spread her legs, bent double to stretch, and answered without looking at him, “I’ve put off my morning run for far too long.” She rose back up and twisted her body to lay her head on first one knee then the other. “And my body’s telling me about it.” After two of these Jill straightened back up and headed for the bathroom, offhandedly commenting, “You needn’t get up on my account, though.”
Randolph sat up, stretching, as Jill closed the door. He glanced at his pillow, wondering if he should, but hearing the stool, he looked over as she emerged and pointed out to her searching eyes, “Your panties are on the floor there and your shoes and dress are in the closet.”
“Thanks,” Jill said pulling out her dress and slipping it on with a look on her face as if she disliked the outfit.
Randolph watched Jill retrieve her panties and shoes without putting them on and decided to ask her. “Jill, after all this time I’m still puzzling over some of your actions. I know this may sound stupid but it’s—it’s like I’m dealing with two people? One moment you’re as timid and vulnerable as a flighty bird, and the next you’re as tough as nails.”
“Oh that,” Jill said, looking for her purse, which he pointed out to her. Jill nodded thanks then explained, “I’ve a multi-personality complex derived from a childhood accident in a pool.” Not looking at Randolph, Jill opened her purse and removed her card key. “In other words, I am two different people. However, unlike most people with such, I’m aware of my other side, and we’ve worked out a suitable compromise, so it’s under control.” Jill looked over, and seeing Randolph’s face, she smiled, reassuring him. “Don’t worry about it. When it’s time to be serious, I’m in total control. Any other time it’s a toss-up who wishes to be out.”
Randolph’s mouth hung ajar.
She walked over to the bed where she patted his face. “And as we don’t take any medications to render one or the other incapable of emerging, so there are no lapses in our memories, unless we’ve had too much to drink. Like last night.” Jill left the bedroom after exposing that nest of wires, and picked up her shawl lying on the floor just in sight of the doorway, and headed for the front door calling out, “Oh, uh, do you mind making dinner tonight?”
“If you don’t mind eating on the couch,” Randolph called back, reminded of his work scattered about the table.
He put on a robe and moved out of the bedroom in time to see Jill looking on the cluttered table. “You couldn’t shove all that into a box?”
“I’d rather not. I've a system in where I place things so I can put my fingers on something without looking up.”
Jill made a face to his reluctance then looked at the door, apparently thinking before she made up her mind. “All right, I’ll have your card keyed into my door. But I don’t want you rummaging around in my room. And I’ll not have you making any smart-alack remarks, either. My room is my sanctuary.” With that said, Jill was out the door and across to hers. “I just remembered, I’ve things I need to get done today, so I’ll be tied up till seven or eight.”
Randolph closed his door after hers closed, straight across from his. With a shake of his head in wonder, Randolph headed for the bathroom. I’ve heard of such cases, but of course I've never had to deal with one. He took a shower and reaffixed his mind on the matter of Mr. Bennett’s payback.
Chapter Nine
Randolph examined a half-made tool which he wouldn’t finish out in the open like this, in case of hidden video-cameras in the walls he had yet to find, and looked up to blink his eyes a few times, seeing the time above the stove. “Seven?” Randolph exclaimed in disbelief, “Rats, I should have started dinner an hour ago!” he berated himself. Now having no time to order up supplies, Randolph rummaged about his kitchen and improvised with what was on hand.
Later, stirring up a steak sauce on a low burner, Randolph heard his door open and Jill’s voice calling out to him.
“Randolph, what are you doing in here? Couldn’t you get in my room?”
Randolph looked over and saw Jill, nose in the air, enjoying the mingling smells like they were aromatic scents from a candle.
“Sorry, I lost track of time, and knowing you don’t cook, I just started it up here.”
Jill approached, now wearing a gray on dark gray business suit, and took a big whiff over the stove, asking with a smile, “Mmm, do I smell real apple pie?”
“That, among other things. Come on—every-thing's ready so if you’ll help me carry this lot and get the doors, we can move to your room.”
Jill did as asked and opened her door, but then glanced hesitantly sideways at Randolph before allowing him in. If he ever had any doubts about her being female, they were dispelled at once. For while Randolph’s apartment was dull browns and white, Jill’s apartment had bright yellow walls overlooking a medium green rug under a light green couch and chair set. Still adjusting his eyes to the color change, Randolph saw old-fashioned frilly white dollies over every armchair and one draped on top an oval mirror and wooden counter top that stood near the front door. With a quick eye for wealth out of habit, Randolph estimated this room alone would fetch 50,000 credits easily from an antique dealer, for it was like he’d stepped into a time capsule of the twenty-first century, all save her holographic videos on the walls and her very modern but unused kitchen appliances.
“Where in the world did you get all these antiques?” Randolph couldn’t help but ask, setting his handful of plates on an all-wood dinette table, protected by two layers of durable plastic sealant.
“Depending on the outcome of our assignments, Mel grants us a healthy credit account.” Jill glanced his way. She shrugged, remarking offhandedly, “And why not? It’s not as if he’s losing any credits.”
Randolph was reminded of what Jill had said about their life expectancy and understood what she meant without explanation. After putting her plate down, Jill looked around the room as if she’d never seen it before and allowed Randolph a glimpse of her true personality.
“Being a military brat, moving every year or so, I found over time I came to find some stability in my grandmother’s home, on the rare occasions we were close enough to visit.” Jill smiled with memories. “I haven’t the room to match the serenity I always felt in her home…” Trailing off, Jill confided in him with, “It just feels safe to me.” Then sobering back into her hard as nails personality, Jill gave Randolph a hard stare, as if to silence any smart-ass remarks, before motioning him to put down his arm load.
The pair was in the midst of their meal when Jill’s phone lit up. “Yes, Mel?” she called without getting up.
“Major, I need you and Randolph in my office.” Mel’s plain-sounding voice fell out of the speaker box.
“Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of dinner?” Jill said, taking another bite.
For a second or so, Randolph heard nothing then Mel asked incredulously. “You cooked dinner?”
Jill put her fork down with a sigh of annoyance. “No, Mel, Randolph did. He’s here with me.”
“In your apartment?” His tone caused Randolph to look at the phone speaker, then over at Jill.
“Mel,” Jill snapped, “do you need us now or can it wait?”
“Oh, ah, yes, it’s important. I’ve got an assignment for you. You’ll need to leave ASAP.”
Randolph looked to Jill, hearing the phone go silent, and noted she looked worried, biting her lip before wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Bad news?” he inquired.
Jill pushed her plate aside and became all business-like. “It means one of the teams has suffered capture, casualties, or both, and we’re to clean up the mess while finishing their task.”
Without cleaning up, Randolph followed a solemn Jill out the door to her beckoning, and found himself in Mel’s office listening to events which he had no control over, and now seamed thrust into without proper research.
“Mitch and Patrick,” Mr. Bennett was explaining, “haven’t reported in for some days.” Mr. Bennett handed Jill a folder, which she opened to inspect as the executive continued without offering Randolph a similar copy. “Their last correspondence was of normal operations, as you can see. What they’d been assigned to unravel is why one corporation is able to sell products cheaper by a third out of China, while the mass markets are spending twice to triple the amount for the same quality.”
Randolph took note Mr. Bennett refrained from mentioning China’s new political strives in becoming a world leader by combining corporations in hostile takeovers and buyouts these past few years.
“So are we to locate the team and continue on—” Jill started to ask.
“No,” Mr. Bennett interrupted, “you’re to assume they’re compromised and proceed in another avenue which would benefit our holdings. You’ll find the new task outlined in basic details, redesigned for your specialties.”
“What if we come across this other team?” Randolph inquired, unable to help himself as he was being purposely sidestepped in these proceedings.
“Let me put this bluntly,” Mr. Bennett said with ill-patience. “If contact is uninitiated within a certain time frame, I push a button which sets off a charge embedded within the chip you all have planted in your brains. If the charge has yet to go off, it’s because you’re already dead or shielded. The first being because of your incompetence, while the other is but a matter of time till the signal works its way to you. Do I make myself clear?” Mr. Bennett must have seen the minute change in Randolph’s facial expression; he finished with, “Good.” He turned to Jill and ordered, “Get your clothes—a hover craft is waiting on the launch pad.” With that he waved the pair on with a dismissive gesture, where by Jill, stiff-necked and showing tautness in her stance, walked out without comment.
As the pair reached their apartments, Randolph asked with some trepidation, “Are you all right?”
“Am I all right?” Jill blurted angrily. “Of course I’m all right! What makes you think I’m other than perfect, just because Mel has executed two members of our team without a thought and now is sending us out to do the corporation’s bidding so they can grow in strength like an untreated cancer?”
She angrily swiped her card to open her door.
Not liking her mood, he grabbed her arm and demanded, “If that’s how you feel, why have you been shoving their propaganda down my throat all this time?”
Jill slapped his hand off her arm. “So you wouldn’t get me killed!”
Stepping in and slamming her door in his face, she left Randolph staring at the door a moment before mumbling obscenities of his own, wishing he’d had time to finish Mel’s surprise package to give the man a taste of his own medicine should he push those buttons again. Not having any other choice, Randolph turned, pulled out his own card key, and opened his own door. Upon stepping in, Randolph took a hard long look on the scattered electronics on the table and steamed even further. Whatever he was to do could very well profit from much of what he’d gathered on the table. But how am I to know what it is I’ll be facing? And will Jill give me the time to make it? At this, Randolph grimaced and looked skyward for help. Then on impulse he snatched up his half-built tools and supplies, tossing the lot in a brief case he’d found in the closet some time back. Next, dumping clothes and toiletries in a larger bag without organization, Randolph moved to await Jill outside his door, stewing. He waited for Jill’s emergence to continue his earlier comments; some fifteen minutes later he found her in no better mood than he, carrying a similar suitcase and an aluminum case specially designed for firearms. It was then Randolph finally understood their true relationship and why’d he’d been paired off with her.
“You’re an assassin!” he blurted in dismay.
“Bought and paid for by your local government,” Jill admitted without evasiveness, noting with distaste, Randolph had disinclined to change his clothes. She pushed him toward the elevator, flippantly remarking, “Discarded like yesterday’s trash and now recycled by Global Rift Supply and Demand, just like you.” She emphasized her last words, getting Randolph into the elevator. Jill hit the top floor button then stabbed her finger into his chest angrily, saying bitterly, “And it’s your job to get me past all those be-dammed-able security measures so I can take out the target, got it!”
Randolph stood next to Jill in the elevator, trembling, and knowing how useless it was, he still had to tell her, “But that’s against my religious beliefs! I can’t do that!”
Jill became even more enraged and slammed Randolph up against the wall, taking him totally off guard. She hissed in his face, “Get with the program, Randolph! Neither of us has any choice. We either do the job we’re given or we’re dead!” She let him go and stepped back to straighten out her gray suit, commenting cynically before the doors slid open to the outside noises, “Besides, whether it gives you any comfort or not, you can be damn sure the hands of our target are bloodied many times over from the countless bodies he or she buried in helping to build the corporation’s foundation.”
Jill walked off the elevator first, spine straight and chin held high, looking for all the world like an overpriced executive. Randolph stood in the elevator chewing on her words as Jill handed over her cases to one of two baggage handlers without even a courtesy nod then mounted the stairs and the awaiting hover craft. Absolutely hating it, but absent of any choice as yet, Randolph followed after Jill cleared the stairs and gave a polite, “thank you” nod to the baggage handler before boarding the craft. The noise level out on the roof top was near on deafening. Once inside, he heard the hydraulics kick in as the door repositioned and sealed shut, cutting off ninety percent of the engine sounds and all the ambiance of a prospering metropolis.
“As soon as you’re buckled in, Ms. Wander,” a flight attendant was saying, “we can lift off.”
Jill settled in a dark blue swivel chair, showing she understood the words without acknowledgment, then buckled herself in and crossed her legs, expressing no emotions to the situation or task.
Randolph took his own seat across the aisle from Jill and watched as the attendant made sure his buckle was secured before walking up front and settling herself behind a wall built behind the flight cabin. When the pilot announce a four-hour flight time, Randolph laid his head back and felt the powerful turbines pull in volumes of air before it sent the flow below the craft for lifting off. Once aloft, the craft shifted, angling into the atmosphere.
Regardless of the appearance he was free of Mr. Bennett and the button that would set off the charge in his head, Randolph wasted no thoughts on a vanishing act once aground. For if Mr. Bennett had not lied, that chip in Randolph’s head meant he was still a prisoner no matter his location or surrounding. Besides, he was still chewing on his new realization once the craft was level and very tempted to reopen the argument he and Jill were having
in the elevator when Jill got up stiffly and disappeared behind a curtain to the rear. But upon seeing the stewardess, Randolph realized he might not want to air out certain matters, lest the woman become a liability to the company. So Randolph clamped his mouth shut as she approached and inquired in a polite voice, “Mr. Arlington, would you like a drink? We have a very nice Chamblee that goes well with the Peking duck, or perhaps a glass of sherry to go with the chicken and dumpling?”
With only a modest hesitation upon hearing himself addressed by a new name, having lost the mood to send anything with flavor past his taste buds, Randolph inquired, “You don’t happen to have a plain old beer, I suppose?”
“We do, sir,” she smiled. “Hinkles or Donlley?”
“Just hot coffee for the both of us,” Jill called out from behind the curtain.
“Hey,” Randolph complained, turning in his seat to argue.
Jill pushed aside the screen and moved back to her seat, having changed her blouse and donned a gray and white vest. “We’ve no time for dull minds, Randolph. Now get back there and change.”
Still wishing to argue but doing as told, Randolph grumbled under his breath and closed the curtain to discover a small open compartment with a complete set of business clothes. Still of a mind to split silicone chips, Randolph changed into the overpriced blue-black suit and vest, designed for snooty executives, complete with ruby cuff links, and sat to finish the ensemble with ArgonBell black shoes, guaranteed to shine without polishing for two years.
Once dressed, he pulled back the curtain and saw Jill’s eyes travel about his fame before she gave him a whistle, evidently trying to lighten his mood. “You look good enough to eat.”
“You may think so, but I think it’s a complete waste of good credits.”
Jill’s brief moment of levity vanished. “A waste or not, it’s necessary. Now here, put this around your neck,” she ordered him, handing over a blue and gray badge on a length of cord. Randolph looked over the thing, which read “District over site committee member.” This meant, in layman’s terms, he had clearance to any company records and all the funding required to achieve his job, regardless of what his job was, hence the twenty-thousand credit suit.