“Too right we will,” I muttered.
Shelley joined us at the table, dressed in a lovely white summer dress which showed off her tanned legs and smooth arms perfectly. Breezy and sultry in one neat little package.
“Morning boys,” she said, having a seat beside me. “Thanks for starting without me, you know it’s nice to know that chivalry isn’t dead.”
“Morning, sorry,” Mel and I said together. And then looked at each other in amazement.
She laughed, “You know, sometimes it’s like you two are twins or something. Not, you know, identical, but you get the idea.”
“Two peas in a pod,” Mel said with a mouthful of food and grin on top of it all.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Except, of course, I got the looks.”
“And I got the brains,” Mel replied, grinning. “All of them.”
“Touché.”
“Gracias.”
I looked at Shelley and suddenly worried about what she might think of our joviality.
“We’ve been talking about our next move, Shel,” I said, trying to let her know that a pleasant breakfast in the morning sun and a bit of ribbing didn’t mean we were putting Rachel’s safety on the back burner. Far from it.
“I knew you would be,” she said, taking a dainty bite from her own plate. “But as much of a bastard as Don is, he would never hurt Rachel, or let her come to harm on his watch. So don’t worry about me, ok guys? I’m stronger than when I made the call to Tom, and it’s thanks to you two. So, let’s just get her back, huh? Right now, we have some breakfast to ease our minds a bit.”
We both nodded.
So we enjoyed a quiet, relaxed breakfast, with the wide open sea as our backdrop, and for a while we lived in a different world, one where Rachel had never been abducted and we’d never heard of the man in the grey suit, and everything came up roses. What can I say, it was a better world than this one.
Mel eventually finished up, sighed, and got to his feet.
“Well, that did the trick,” he said.
“I’m not surprised,” I said with a grin. “You ate your own body weight in food.”
“Suck it, Tom.”
“I’m sorry you’re not my type.”
He grinned, “The comeback king.”
“That’s me.”
“Okay guys,” Mel said. “I’m heading in. Going to comb through the computer some more, see what I can find. I’ll need a bit of solitary time if I’m going to do this properly, so I’ll see you at lunch?”
“Good luck, Mel,” Shelley said. “Find something.”
“Honey, if there’s even a scrap of something to be found, I’ll find it.”
“That’s my boy.”
He left with a grin, and I suddenly found myself at a table having breakfast in an incredibly romantic location with a woman who I’d been very intimate with and had since sworn I’d never see again. Funny how things go sometimes, isn’t it?
I tried to brush it off, focus on the situation at hand. I had no time to entertain romantic daydreams. There were far more important things deserving of my attention.
But then I felt it. The old familiar tingle.
But it couldn’t be helped. The damn words were out of my mouth before I even registered it.
“You ever wonder what would have happened if you’d married me instead of that ass you ended up with.” I asked, not in any kind of challenging way, merely wondering.
Shelley sighed, put the fork which was halfway to her mouth back on the plate, and said, “Yes, Tom. Of course I do. We had some very special times together. You think I can just let that go, forget any of it ever happened?”
“I tried,” I replied, looking at my plate.
“Yeah, so did I,” she replied. “It didn’t work.”
“Uh,” I replied, in an incredible display of literary flair.
“And what about you?” she asked in return. “Any thoughts on what might have been?”
I nodded, “There are now, if I have to be brutally honest. But not after we broke up. I was a bit too burned to allow myself to focus on it.”
“I’m sorry-”
I shook my head emphatically, “No, Shel. There’s no need to be sorry. You had your reasons for putting an end to our relationship. And those reasons were entirely valid. You had the emotional wellbeing of yourself and our little girl to think of. I get it. Hell, I even got it back then, although at the time I wouldn’t admit it.”
She laughed, the sound almost musical, “You always were a hard-headed bastard.”
I shrugged, “I don’t deal well with being stung. I suffered too, Shel. And it took some time to get my head right.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Tom,” Rachel said, reaching for my hand across the table. “I know how much you love her. And I know how much she loves you. That was the main reason I ended it, to be even more brutally honest. Regardless of my own very real feelings for you, I couldn’t have her being hurt. And not just hurt, but crushed. To lose …”
I interrupted her. “I know,” I said simply, taking her hand in mine. “And I knew that back then, too. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
She looked at me sadly, “Things were good for a while, weren’t they?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I wanted to marry you, Shel. I wanted us to be a family. Hell, I even worked out how soon I could leave the SEALs, become a regular guy, someone you could count on to come home at night.”
The look of sadness on her pretty face changed into a mixture of shock and surprise.
“You were going to do that?”
“Yeah,” I said simply, with a sad smile of my own. “I already had some ideas on how to do it, it was just a matter of getting out of the SEALs and putting them into action. Hell, I ended up leaving the damn SEALs anyway. Maybe that’s not irony, but it’s pretty close.”
She shook her head, staring at me like I was some sort of idiot. “You idiot. You fucking idiot.”
“Er,” I said, trying to shift my mental gears. “Okay.”
Shelley looked out at the sea, her breakfast plate all but forgotten. “Shit.”
“Okay, Shel, thanks. I get it. I’m a fucking idiot.”
She turned toward me.
“You’re an idiot because if you’d told me all of this years ago I would have said yes in the blink of an eye.”
A beat, as I processed this last piece of information.
It failed.
My heart raced. “What?”
“You, leaving the SEALs, asking me to marry you? Coming home from a job that didn’t put your life on the line?” Shelley said, a look of disbelief on her beautiful face. “And all for me and Rachel… Damn it, Tom. Do you have any idea how much I wanted that? Even just to hear the damn words!”
“Bugger,” I said softly, my mind having given up on coherent thought by this stage and struggling at best with appropriate things to say.
“You didn’t have a damn clue, did you?” Shelley asked.
“Well, I may have had a clue,” I mumbled, trying to get my emotions and my mind to be on the same page. “Shit, I don’t know what to say, Shel.”
“Yeah, well,” Shelley said with the hint of a smile. “I think I know what to say.”
I looked at her in confusion. “What?”
“Yes,” she said softly, squeezing my hand. “Let’s get my little girl, our little girl, back safely. And then let’s get married as soon as I’ve sorted out the divorce.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The man in the grey suit sat quietly at his favorite window, in the alcove at home, sipping occasionally on his evening tea and thinking about the situation as it now stood. Don Abaid simply upped and vanished without a trace. His wife turned out to be alive after all, which provided some kind of relief as it gave him back the extra set of eyes he’d thought he lost when she had supposedly been killed in the penthouse apartment by his goons.
But she still knew nothing about where he’d gone and found herself now looking
for the son of a bitch with even more vigor than before.
As for the man in the grey suit, none of his own people knew where to go or what to do next, and he had no idea what to tell them, if he had to honest with himself. The surveillance on all three places came up with nothing. There’d been talk at Mel Clarke’s penthouse between the Abaid woman, the SEAL and Mel himself about stopping at the Abaid place and looking for evidence. He’d go along with that, although his own people had been through the place with a fine tooth comb and came up with absolutely nothing.
Maybe the three of them would come across something his team of idiots missed, and he’d see and hear every word or gesture related to any discovery, thanks to the electronic surveillance he’d left in place.
He’d scared the man Mel. Showing him how easily he could break through his own code, showing all of his information in black and white. And then breaking into his place, just to show the bastard he could. And to send a little message.
No, the guy obviously felt scared, and no doubt took some comfort in the man in the grey suit’s promise to remove the surveillance equipment from the Abaid home. He didn’t think the guy would invite more trouble by making a big deal about the surveillance system still being there. He hadn’t pulled in another snooper team from his own company, which spoke volumes. But then something strange happened.
They had their breakfast, all talking about the new plan and settling matters, and then they’d left the Clarke penthouse and simply vanished, appearing neither at the Abaid household nor the SEAL’s. Just vanished into thin bloody air.
He knew they were no closer to finding out the location of Don Abaid than he was, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for their unwitting help. Until they’d disappeared off of his radar completely, which changed the game completely. He no longer felt his usual sense of composure, which disturbed him on a primal level.
The man in the grey suit didn’t like being in the dark. He felt unaccustomed to the sense of powerlessness. But he found himself in the situation regardless, flailing in a black void of nothingness, with no saving grace and no beacon to point the way forward.
No surveillance because the three of them could literally be anywhere by now.
No inside information, something he’d relied on in the past but found no use for. Nothing.
He always got the answers he required, one way or another. He’d always found a way of doing it. Until this little screw up.
He considered it to be one of his greatest and most useful talents. Getting answers, especially from those where said answers were less than forthcoming. It had, in fact, become something of a hobby, over the years. Something he undeniably enjoyed.
His mind drifted back to a particularly sweet memory, and he found himself smiling.
He had been a little older than thirty at the time, having celebrated his thirtieth birthday very much alone in his apartment, listening to classical music and preparing a special dinner for himself and only himself. A healthy, nutritious and delicious meal that actually tasted like food, as opposed to the garbage they served at restaurants these days. His own dear mother would have heartily approved of the final result. And he enjoyed the lovely meal all by himself, exactly the way he liked it. No small talk to take away from the experience of the exquisitely prepared meal, no yapping on about the scandals in the office, or the latest sports results, or which movie star was dating which other movie star.
The man in the grey suit found that people didn’t have very much to say as a rule. So instead they droned on about a lot of inanities which had no real bearing on their lives and promptly proceeded to call it conversation. And sadly they didn’t even realize it. They truly believed they cared about what they were saying, such was the power of their self-deception. It disturbed him on a fundamental level. Stupid, small minds blurting out stupid, small thoughts like static in the wind.
But not that night, and not at his dinner table. No idiotic, small talk whatsoever. Just himself and his music, and the taste of a meal prepared with love and skill.
The man in the grey suit didn’t have many friends, which presented no problem to him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had never in his life wanted any, had no need for them at all.
They were in fact nothing more than a constant distraction, except for the occasional girlfriend. They only stole his time, preventing him from focusing on the bigger picture.
The bigger picture.
It constituted the reason he’d been with the Company for a decade already. He believed in what the CIA did, protecting the vast herds of sheep out there from themselves and their own stupidity. A decade! How time flew when one was having fun.
Riding a desk at Langley didn’t exactly represent the kind of excitement he’d envisioned when he had first joined up, but at least he felt he did his part to try to right the wrongs of the world, and there were so very many of them. But his job didn’t sate his taste for a more hands on approach to the world, only kept it in check for portions of time.
***
So, he’d just turned thirty, and his girlfriend at the time had made a fuss about it. But he left her out of it, choosing instead to enjoy it alone and at peace with the world. And there was another reason for the pleasant and blissfully quiet evening. He started having doubts about her. About her fidelity, in point of fact. And the man in the grey suit didn’t want to have to ask her on his birthday even if it meant having his fears allayed.
No, he called her the next day, a Saturday as it turned out, and arranged to meet her at his place that evening for coffee. It would be dark out, which served his purposes perfectly.
She rang the bell to his apartment and he let her in, offered her coffee which she happily accepted, and they sat down and talked for a while. Not about much, the usually idiotic small talk. But it served to put her at ease before he asked her the question that had been on his mind ever since he saw her holding hands with another man about a week before. They’d been on their way into a movie theatre at the time. He only saw her profile, and even then only for a second, which sufficed.
He was sure of it.
He swerved wildly to the right to not be seen by them, almost colliding with an old lady out in the cold for God knew what reason.
Surely this weather would have killed such a frail creature.
The old lady glared at the man in the grey suit, “What do you think you’re doing? Are you drunk or something.”
“You want to get shot?” he replied, his eyes devoid of all emotion. “Because if you do, I don’t mind obliging. Looks like you’re past your sell-by date anyway.”
She just stared at him, and he could see the familiar glimmer of fear there.
“No…” she said softly, his presence blocking her.
“Good,” he growled. “Then get the hell out of here, you little bitch. And count yourself lucky that I have more important things on my mind. Understand?”
The old lady nodded hastily, and he gestured for her to move past him and away, something she did with both relief and speed. The man in the grey suit stared at the entrance to the cinema and realized the two of them had already gone in. He wondered briefly whether he should go in after them, confront them there and then. God knew he wanted to.
No, check out the situation first. Make sure there’s proof before doling out the justice.
But he didn’t know what movie they’d gone to see, and it seemed unlikely any of the ticket clerks would be of any help. They probably wouldn’t even know who the hell he referred to, there were so many couples going in. She and the stranger could’ve gone to any one of them, sitting there in their pathetic little booths.
No, better to leave it for now. Spying on them wouldn’t do. And even if he could glean the information he required from one of the ticket sellers, there was still the possibility they were sitting in the back.
They’d notice him the moment he entered the cinema. Screw it, he’d just have to ask her when next he saw her.
; So he went through his usual weekly work routine, getting more and more irate by the day, but not allowing the situation to affect him on his birthday. Not on his birthday.
But the day after…
So they sat on the couch and sipped on their coffee, talking about the previous week.
She had told him a week before, just hours before he’d seen her going into the movie theatre with some stranger, that she intended visiting her parents and would spend the weekend there. She even asked if he wanted to join her. He declined, of course, but the offer was made.
And then her attending the movie theatre, with a complete stranger, hand in hand.
On his couch, she continued to babble on about minor things, a seemingly endless stream of meaningless bullshit, until the man in the grey suit could take it no longer.
“So,” he said, interrupting some boring story about one of her work colleagues mid-sentence. “Did you enjoy visiting your parents’ place last weekend? Have fun?”
“Yeah, lots of fun, thanks,” she said, a bit put out with being interrupted, but leaving it be. “Mom made her usual apple and cream pie, which I enjoyed. It was wonderful as usual. I still can’t get the damn recipe right-”
“And the movie?”
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, her slow brain probably doing its pathetic best to formulate an answer which would suit her current predicament.
“What movie?” she asked at last, and he could see that she seemed decidedly uneasy. “What are you talking about?”
“The one I saw you and some guy going into last weekend,” the man in the grey suit said, his tone even. “When you were supposed to be on your way to your parents. That movie.”
“I told you,” she said, uncertainly. “I went to my parents. You can’t have seen me. It must have been someone else-”
“It was you!” the man in the grey suit yelled. “Don’t lie to me, you stupid little bitch!”
She looked at him, her face showing the shock she no doubt felt. “What…”
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