Alone.
_______________________
She was in the sitting room, the cigarette box empty and on the floor. The contents were neatly placed and lined up on the expanse of the coffee table. For a moment, I couldn't enter the sitting room, only staring at the redhead that made me feel more things than anyone else in the world.
She sat in the large chair I had the first day we met, leaning forward on her knees as they bounced erratically. Kit was nervous and kept her sunglasses on, obviously prepared for battle.
Slowly entering the room, I forced out her name, "Kit." My voice coming out as a strained whisper.
She seemed to flinch at the sound of my voice, when just hours ago she would blush and try to hide a grin.
I mustered the courage for another attempt at starting the conversation, "Tito, the uh...handcuffs?" It was awkward, but I had to know about the handcuffs first.
Kit's bouncing leg paused. She reached out with her hand, running the fingers over the black box that held the bottle of Chivas. "I am still sober. Tito drank the glass I had poured, but couldn't bring myself to drink it, because of you and what I promised you." She tapped lightly on the lid of the box, "I reckon it was about a seven thousand dollar shot of scotch he downed like one of his cheap Mexican beers. I will pay you back for that."
I stopped at the opposite end of the couch on an angle from the redhead, "You don't need to..."
"He handcuffed me when I put up a bit of a fight, a verbal fight about coming back here." Kit took a deep breath, "He won because honestly, Tito scares the shit out of me." She paused, "And he was right, but I am stubborn and the only way he could get me to move was by sneaking my own handcuffs on my wrists and hauling me to the Lincoln." Kit glanced at me and turned away just as fast, "We shared a few more words until he became far too convincing to ignore." She cleared her throat.
A chunk of silence filled the room, just the gentle in and out of both of us breathing nervously was the only sound in the room. I stared at her, searching out what to say next without losing my cool and yelling at her. I was in full Senator mode keeping my emotions behind a thick sturdy wall.
Kit's brow furrowed, her eyebrows dipping under the lenses of her sunglasses. "I had no idea Callum was bad. Never did I spot one tiny, little red flag. All of my training and instinct was blinded by love. Exactly like the stupid cliché phrase says." Kit ran her fingers along the lines of the black box. The air growing heavier as she took the deep breath one does right before telling a lengthy story.
"Six months we were together. Together in a secret relationship and did a great job keeping it secret." Kit looked up at the ceiling and shook her head lightly, "God did I think I was in love. In love like my mom's dumb romance novels. A handsome, charming Englishman sweeping me off my feet and making me feel like a treasured item."
I watched Kit's first two fingers lift at the side corner of the box, slowly lifting the lid, "He took me to restaurants I never knew existed in the world. We went to foreign films that made Hollywood seem cheap and tawdry. There was even the quick weekend to his family's Scotland estate where I literally, for a day, felt like a princess in a castle. Callum wooed me and romanced me to a tee. I was so swept up in the amazing and different way he made me feel. Making me feel like no other had before him." Kit paused again and this time when she looked at me, I could feel her eyes penetrate through the black lenses. Kit dropped her head down to look at her hands, dipping them both into the soft lining of the velvet interior, removing the black bottle and placing it on the table next to the phone and the ominous white envelope.
"In Italy, the weekend before Montreal, I began to notice little things that piled up. Callum would disappear from the room with a different cellphone, obviously distracted even as I laid naked on the bed, something he rarely ever ignored. When he would return, he would give off a frantic vibe, hiding the cell phone into his locked briefcase. When I casually asked about it, he played it off as nothing other than work related. Robert had received threats over the last few weeks and his security detail had gone into overdrive, we were all stressed during that time and looking for cracks in the armor."
Kit rolled the bottle in between her two hands. The ridged bottom making a throaty vibration on the wood of the coffee table, "Callum quickly asked me to leave the Secret Service the day before...everything. He wanted us to run away to Ireland, away from the world of politics and live in a tiny cottage his grandparents owned."
Kit kept rolling the bottle, the sound of the glass rolling on the wood seemed to steady her, "I stupidly said yes. I loved my job as a Secret Service Agent, but I loved, well, thought I loved Callum more. The idea of having a simple life free from looking over our shoulders was far too enticing. I said yes even though my gut instinct screamed no, look harder Kit. Push for more information on why he wanted to leave the world he half created for his brother."
Kit let go of the bottle, letting it rock to stillness as she dug in the back pocket of her jeans. She tossed a thin stack of folded and crumpled sheets of paper at me, the sheets landing on the middle of the couch. They were worn and looked as if they had been folded and un-folded a million times. I could make out the faint logo of the Secret Service on the upper right hand corner.
Curiosity killed me and I reached for the thin stack with two fingers. When they were in my hands, I began to slowly unfold the edges as Kit continued, "Callum became weirder over the next few days. Begging me to turn in my resignation one minute then the next asking to look at the classified daily briefings from my Section Chief."
Kit lifted her sunglasses up just enough to wipe at her eyes. A lone tear escaped and made it halfway down her cheek before shaky hands caught it. Kit swallowed slowly, her voice trembling, "I called Davey for advice. He knew about Callum from the third day he and I fell into our romance. Davey was and still is one of my best friends, only friend really, outside of Tito. I needed his guidance and his outside opinion, my gut wasn't enough to overcome the fairy tale ending I had at my fingertips."
Kit shifted on the couch, her hand rubbing at her neck as she rolled it, "Davey did some digging over the next few days." She dropped her hand, pointing at the sheets in mine, "That is what he found." Kit leaned forward on her knees again, resting her head in her hands, "Fifteen minutes before the world changed in Montreal, Davey called me."
Her legs began to bounce with nerves again, her voice breaking harder as she faced me, nodding at what I held, "It's all in black and white, Claire."
I pulled open the final fold of the sheets. Right away I came face to face with a picture of a handsome man in, who looked to be his late twenties. Black shiny hair in a modern Gatsby cut, intense blue eyes and an air of confidence that permeated the simple printed image.
The section under the image read,
BIRTH NAME: CALLUM ALEXANDRE WILLIAMS, II
KNOWN ALIASES: GRIOGAIR MCCULLOGH – KNOWN AFFILIATE AND LEAD MEMBER OF THE UNITED BEGGARS COALITION
I scanned past the boldface type and down to the typed paragraph highlighting Davidek's findings.
Griogiar McCullough is fully connected as the third in command of the United Beggars Coalition. A revamp attempt to rebuild the long disbanded IRA by the upset new millennials of England. This new group, UBC, are built from the rich 1% of England, Scotland and Ireland trying to reignite the force of the occupy movement that fizzled out over in the states, but with increased violence and attacks. Most members of the UCB have used money and power attained in their own lives or family riches to hide their identities so they could operate within the crowds undetected. The members listed on the next few pages after Griogair/Callum have bought themselves into guerrilla warfare by attacking the families listed. All families of power and wealth that support the idea of the 1% and what it stands for.
The UBC mission statement is to bring down the wealth and make it accessible to all, no matter the cost to life or property. They are a highly violent and volatile group responsible for the recent attacks
in Northern Ireland and last month’s London tube fires.
After the detailed paragraph, I noticed Davidek's angular handwriting underneath.
"Kit,
Your boyfriend has set you up. He has been using you to get the information you have from the Secret Service to breach the extra security. I haven't quite traced it all back to a date and time, only picked up chatter that there is an attack coming soon. An attack on Robert. Callum wants to make statement and is going to sacrifice his brother and you."
I set the sheets against my thighs, I was speechless and dumbfounded at the audacity of targeting and attacking your family. I folded the sheets up and set them on the couch, "If Davidek sent you this days before, how?" I stopped, I couldn't find the words to ask any further.
"I never received the sheets until after the fact. Callum intercepted them and hid them from me." Kit picked up the bottle again, unscrewing the cap to let the stiff scent of scotch filter up to her nose, "He slipped up and I caught him. For whatever reason he wanted to hold Robert and I back until the car drove up to the hotel concourse instead of the back entrance we all had agreed on." Kit titled the bottle closer to her nose, breathing deep, "Carlton was right. I was far too distracted to check under the car, but it wasn't because my legs were up in the air. It was because as I went to walk out with Robert, Callum took a phone call and uttered a strange phrase in Gaelic."
She set the bottle down, screwing the cap back on tightly, "That was the final red flag. I had gone to Scotland with the man, to his family's estate that was covered in old Gaelic artwork and when I asked him what it all meant, he told me he didn't speak or read a word of the old foolish language no matter how hard his parents forced him to learn it." Kit's hand laid on the neck of the bottle, "What Callum didn't know, was that Robert had taught me bits and pieces of Gaelic since he wanted to integrate the ancient language into some of his security briefings. Hoping it would confuse his enemies when they would get their hands on classified documents."
Kit slowly pulled her sunglasses off, folding them up before setting them on the table. Her eyes were red and puffy, evidence she had cried for hours like I had. "Then I caught him giving a signal to the bellhop. A signal I had seen a million times in all of my terrorism training classes. The UBC was not very smart or original for all the money they had at their disposal. They fell back on old signals the insurgents had used to set up IED's during the first few years of the Afghan war." Kit looked at me for the first time since she walked out onto my driveway in handcuffs.
The fear, sadness, hurt, guilt and pain all hung heavy in the glassy hazel eyes of the woman, "I asked Callum what he was doing and he let his façade down. Revealing Griogair to me. He knew that in the next handful of minutes his brother would die on the busiest street of Montreal and no longer cared to keep it a secret. He told me everything like a foolish man full of bravado right before his grand master plan was executed."
Kit laughed lightly, "What he didn't expect was me executing him when I tried to take him to custody and order him to call off the attack." She fell back into the couch, closing her eyes, "Callum told me how he used me from the first minute he smiled at me. Telling me he had read my file and my background, knowing that my life was full of failed relationships and that I would fall easily into the first man who gave me the fairy tale I wanted as a little girl."
I couldn't hold back, I moved closer to Kit. My hand covering the top of her hand as it sat on her thigh. She flinched lightly, but relaxed, opening her eyes to stare at me, "He hit me. Threw a nice right hook in hopes of knocking me down so he could make his escape. The one thing he failed to research about me was that I was the agency's top fighter and that my grandpa had taught me how to take a punch and come up faster, harder." Kit dropped her eyes down to my hand on hers, slowly turning it over so our palms met.
"I came back up with my gun drawn. Giving Callum the ultimatum I was trained to give. Surrender or die." Kit slid her fingers loosely into mine, "He chose the latter. In sixty eight seconds I followed through on the choice he forced upon me." She took a deep breath, "If I had acted maybe sixty seconds faster than my heart wanted me to, I would have been able to save Robert." Kit slowly squeezed my hand, she was letting it all go and I could feel it in the way she held my hand, "Instead I was just in time to be three feet from the blast. I pulled Robert out of the car and held him as he died in my arms."
I didn't know what to say, there was nothing I could say that would comfort her. Kit needed to tell her story without my commentary. I looked up in her eyes and saw how drained she was from telling a story she had kept to herself for years. "I wasn't asked to resign from the Secret Service. They eventually had cleared me of wrong doing and called Callum’s death a justified end. I was given a free and clear pass by the agency psychologist and the Montreal file was sealed up and stamped by the President never to be opened. The country would just deal with the fallout it did from Roberts death without revealing the truth of how his own brother betrayed him. The UBC was demolished and all of the parties still involved were arrested and as far as I know, all the living members are rotting in prison till they day they die."
Kit gently pulled her hand free from mine, sliding it into the sleeve of her sweatshirt, "I asked for them to accept my resignation. I couldn't continue on with being a Secret Service Agent after realizing how I failed in the simple duty of keeping Robert safe. I let my heart get in the way of the job I always wanted. My dreams of a perfect love clouded my reality of a perfect career that would have taken me places."
I wanted to reach for her hand again, but felt like it would be up to her to make the move for physical contact. "Kit, you did nothing wrong. You followed your heart, that's it. No one could fault you for that."
Kit turned to me, "But I was at fault and the guilt for what I had done was too much. I never set out in this world or this job to hurt anyone. And yet, I killed two people because of blind ignorance." I watched as her eyes filled up with tears, her voice trembling, "This is why I can't get close to you. I am afraid I will do the same thing and I will lose you." She took a deep breath, "Because, Claire, I am so in love with you that it blinds me like you were the sun and I am Icarus. Flying to close to you, and I can't help it."
She choked on a half sob, "I love you, Claire. I love you more than I ever thought I could love him. I love you because you have shown me that there is a reason to let someone have my heart again. From the first day I met you, you have given me everything and not given me an inch when I tried to take a foot from you. You have given me hope in life again."
Kit's words fell fast, clear and when she stopped to look away from me, I was frozen. Not like I was when she told me she had killed Callum, but frozen by the sheer truth and heart that was behind her profession of love. Every word held her entire heart as she spoke them, each word delivering the small pieces to me in hopes I would take them all and mold them back into the heart she once had.
I was drained and the temptation of the scotch sitting inches away from me was increasing. I slumped back in the couch, wiping at my cheeks. I couldn't look at Claire after everything I had told her and telling her that I loved her. I would wait until she politely told me thanks, but no thanks and asked me to leave.
At least I knew Tito would be close by. After fighting with him and yelling at him as I was slung over his shoulder like a fireman rescuing a damsel, I made him promise me to wait around the neighborhood. I knew I would need a ride home after I fulfilled the promise to tell Claire everything.
To be honest it was liberating to tell Claire everything that happened with Callum and that day in Montreal. Only Davey, the investigative board and I, knew the exact details of the day and Callum's betrayal. But I was drained, drained like a tub whose plug had been pulled, my energy slipping down the drain with every little thing I shared with Claire. Tomorrow would be a new day completely, I would have to rebuild a life free from scotch and the blonde woman sitting next to me. I had pushed her too far and tested he
r patience. Tito was right, if it was going to be the end, I might as well make it a fresh start in a terrible end. I grabbed my sunglasses, unfolding them to push back onto my face.
"I am going back to D.C. Tomorrow Kit." Claire's voice was quiet and filled with the Senator.
I nodded, sliding the sunglasses back on. "I understand."
I grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed myself up to stand. I pointed at the cell phone, "Do you mind if I call Tito real quick for a ride home." I was doing my best to hold back the tears, my heart was broken and I had done it to myself.
"Kit, sit down and listen." Claire was firm, but gentle, "I think it's my turn to say something."
I folded my arms against my chest, "I'd rather stand." I turned to face the blonde, grateful that the sunglasses helped prevent any direct eye contact with the woman. She was beautiful sitting on the couch, dressed in a pale grey V-neck and those jeans that fit her perfectly. I loved when her hair was done like it was now, a little messy but perfect. Claire was tired, I saw she had cried far too much and the way her lips were pursed, I knew there was some anger in the kind heart I had stomped all over like a tantrum ridden child.
Even though I knew this was the end of us by the tone in her voice, one look at her made my heart race like a fighter jet. I was honest when I asked Tito, how would I ever find anyone I loved like her?
Claire's eyes focused on mine, "I am leaving for the capital tomorrow. To return to the Senate a week early and start my work." Claire looked down at her hands, "I made the arrangements after you left this afternoon. I felt there was no point in staying here any longer." Claire paused, running her hands down her legs. "No point in staying here without you." She looked up at me, "When you left, I felt something I had never felt before in my life. A dull, lingering ache in my chest. No matter what I did, I couldn't shake it or stop from thinking about you. You broke my heart Kit."
Claire stood up, walking over to me she reached up and pulled the sunglasses from my face. Folding them up she then set them quietly down next to the phone on her Oxford University t-shirt I had worn one night after getting pizza sauce on my dress shirt. Claire straightened up and our eyes met. The way she would always steal my breath away with one look like the one she gave me now, was incredible. But I feared it would be the last time I would have this moment, so I held her eyes no matter how badly I wanted to look away from her. I needed to memorize the way her irises had touches of pure gold mixed in the sea greenish rings. I tried to focus on listening to her, but a part of me wanted to stop listening and walk out of the house before the inevitable was said.
Redemptio Animae Page 30