by Keith Yocum
“Yes, I do.”
✦
“My God, you look great,” Dennis said as he wrapped his arms around Judy and squeezed. They kissed awkwardly and sat at the small round Formica table in her room.
“Dennis, can I come stay with you?” she blurted. “At your hotel? I need to get out of here. Derrick says it would be okay. I just need to keep coming to some sessions here.”
“Of course you can. When can you leave?”
“Now!” she said, pointing to two travel bags. “Right bloody now. But you have to talk to Derrick first.”
“Well, let’s talk to Derrick.”
“Did I hear my name?” said someone from the doorway.
Dennis turned to see a very short, thin man with bushy reddish-blond eyebrows and curly dirty blond hair pointing up haphazardly like a pile of steamed milk on a cappuccino.
“You must be Dennis?” he said, walking forward and holding out his hand.
They shook hands, and he asked Dennis and Judy to sit at the table.
“Typically, we like our patients to stay a minimum of thirty days, but given the progress of Judy and the unusual nature of her addiction, well, it may be possible for her to leave earlier. But I must ask you to follow some very strict rules, Dennis. First, no alcohol and prescription drugs should be left in your hotel room, Judy must continue to attend sessions here and you should consider avoiding alcohol in general until Judy is stronger. These drug mixtures nowadays are extremely powerful and can wreak havoc on the brain’s chemistry. It is not a matter of volition or willpower; the brain has changed and needs time to heal. Judy never asked for this problem, of course, but she must own it, and she needs a strong, supportive partner to help her.”
“I’m the guy, then,” Dennis said.
“You’ll make sure she attends her sessions here?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’re good to go, Judy.”
✦
The cold air stung at Judy’s cheeks, but she was so thrilled to be walking freely through Green Park that she did not mind. Her eyes watered slightly as the wind whipped, so she burrowed into Dennis’s shoulder.
“I feel badly that I missed Christmas,” Judy said. “I sent Trevor some late presents, but I still feel so bad about it. It’s already January.”
“Judy, you were in a hospital, for God’s sake,” he said.
“I still feel awful.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much. I don’t celebrate Christmas, or New Year’s, or anything for that matter, so doesn’t make much difference to me.”
“You talk like that, but you really do care about things,” she said, pressing her head into the shoulder of his wool coat. “I know that much about you.”
“Did I tell you that you sound like my therapist?”
“I thought you stopped seeing her.”
“I think she fired me or something like that.”
“Can they do that?”
“Well, she said that we didn’t have much more to talk about and that I was about as well as I was going to get. Or something. I don’t know. I can’t believe we have to pay people to listen to our crap and then look at the clock on the wall every fifty minutes and say, ‘Oops, our time is up today.’”
Judy laughed. “My gruff little Yank.”
But it was the freedom that made her smile; she had been imprisoned in a basement in London for almost a month, then imprisoned in a hospital for almost three weeks and was now free. She could walk through a park, go to a film, eat at a restaurant, visit a museum … and fight the urge to seek comfort in that tiny syringe. Would this fight go on forever? She did not like the way her thoughts would inexorably wander back to the thrill — as perverse as it was — of watching the small man plunge the needle into her vein.
“… and now it’s less than two weeks, and I can’t seem to crack this thing.”
“What was that, Dennis? I’m sorry, I was daydreaming a little.”
“Oh, nothing. Just complaining about this damn case. I can’t find a thread to follow. Sometimes just walking around I can sort of stumble onto something. At least in the past it worked that way. I feel like my brain is dead or withered. God.”
That’s how I feel, Judy thought, wiping a small cold-generated tear from her eye. Like I have a dead brain.
✦
Dennis walked around the hotel room in his boxer shorts and tee shirt, trying to contain his agitation. There were only two things he wanted right now, and they gnawed at him like a squirrel scratching to get out of his stomach. He wanted a drink, and he wanted to have sex with Judy, neither of which was an option. Dennis had kept away from alcohol at Derrick’s suggestion, and Judy had made it clear that she was not ready for sex, though she was as beautiful and desirable as ever.
“Why do you keep flying around like a bumblebee?” she asked from the bed as she watched a police drama on BBC One. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he lied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Just trying to get my head around this damned Arnold case.”
“Well, at least you have something to get excited about,” she said. “I used to get engulfed by investigations. Now, well, I don’t know what they’ll assign me to when I get back. And I don’t even know if I want to go back into that building again or even work for the AFP. Heaven knows what they’ll say about me behind my back: ‘Poor Judy, such a shame. Did you hear what happened to her? They turned her into a drug-addicted sex slave.’”
“Stop saying things like that! Who gives a shit what they think? People will say whatever they want, but it means absolutely nothing. You’re a terrific policewoman with great instincts and skills. The hell with other people’s stupid thoughts.”
She turned off the television and stared at the black screen for a moment.
“You’ve been so nice to me,” she said softly. “Sometimes when I just start crying, you hold me and don’t say anything. You don’t judge me. You even try to distract me, I noticed, when I get moody. You’ve been wonderful, but I don’t think I deserve it. I don’t think I’m giving anything back.”
“Nonsense.”
“I’m feeling depressed again.”
“Well, let’s see if we can break that train of thought,” he said, shifting around on the bed to face her. “Why don’t you help me on this Arnold case?”
“Me?”
He looked around the room, got off the bed, kneeled down and looked under the bed, then stood up. “I don’t see anyone else in the room.”
“How in bloody hell would I help you find this missing department head or whatever he is?”
“A deputy chief of station.”
“All right, him. How would I help you?”
“I’m missing something. It’s right there in front of me, but it’s this tiny little key that I cannot find. You could help me find it. Besides, you need something to sink your teeth into. Be good for you and for me.”
“I know nothing about your intelligence community,” she laughed. “Except what I’ve seen in the movies. They all seem to lie and cheat each other and then double-cross the people they just cheated.”
“Exactly. That’s all you need to know.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Well, think fast, I’m running out of time. Louise has already called me twice.”
“Mmm. I think I’m a little jealous of Louise.”
“Huh?”
“She is a formidable person. Fearless. I can’t believe what she did to get me out of that house. And she even lied about who shot Voorster. Why did she do that?”
“I think she didn’t want you to have to answer to the police on that. I never asked, she just did it.”
“That’s what I mean. She’s amazing.”
“Let’s not deify that woman, if you don�
��t mind.”
“Do you think she’s attractive? I thought she was quite attractive.”
Dennis got off the bed.
“Enough about Louise! Ugh. She’ll never be my type, if that’s what you’re driving at. She’s a real pain in the ass and just a little too ambitious for my liking. You, on the other hand, are my type: beautiful, mysterious, brilliant and you talk with a funny accent. Plus you have that little up-turned nose that is so cute. And now it’s time for bed. Your job starting tomorrow morning is to solve the Arnold case.”
“Perhaps,” she said, turning off the light as Dennis got under the covers.
Dennis snuggled behind her and put his arm around her waist.
After several minutes she said softly, “Do you think I’m getting better?”
“Of course I do.”
“How can you tell?”
“You’re being a pain in ass, that’s how I can tell.”
She laughed and turned around to face him in the dark.
“You are such a darling to put up with me.”
“You bet I am.”
She laughed again, moved her face against his and kissed him softly.
“I need another one of those if you have one handy,” he said.
She kissed him again, withdrew, and then kissed him yet again, this time longer. They parted only inches, their breaths mingling.
“You’re a handsome devil,” she said. “I’m glad you shaved.”
“Devil, yes; handsome, not so much.”
She leaned forward, pulled him closer and kissed him hard and did not let up; a minute later, after grappling under the sheets, it was as if a switch was turned on and the two went at each other with a fervor that took even Dennis by surprise.
CHAPTER 26
Out of the question?” Dennis yelled into the phone. “Are you kidding me, Chandler? Since when do you have the right to restrict an investigation by OIG?”
“You go right back to your boss Richardson there in Langley and ask him,” Chandler said. “I’ve been told your investigation is nearly over and that we no longer are required to submit personnel to questions from you or turn over any data whatsoever.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No sir, it’s not. Goodbye.”
Dennis pushed the disconnect button on his phone and threw it onto the bed.
“This is ridiculous. Louise tells me to continue the investigation, but no one’s cooperating any longer. You can’t investigate if you don’t have access. This goddamn investigation has been a bust from the beginning. Not to mention it got Freddie killed. My God, I feel so damn stupid.”
Judy put down the newspaper she was reading and walked over to Dennis, who was sitting at the small hotel desk.
“Give me your notebook,” she said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “And a pen.”
“You can’t read my writing,” he said lamely. “I can barely read it myself.”
“I’m not going to read your handwriting; I’m going to write. Give it to me.”
He reached over, picked up the small black moleskin notebook and one of the hotel pens and gave them to her.
“Draw me a picture,” he said, “of a donkey — that’s me — wandering in a desert looking for a drink of water.”
“Silly, I’m not going to draw. I’m going to ask you some questions.”
Dennis put his hands on top of his head, leaned back in the chair and said, “Please do. I need a diversion. I’m going nuts.”
“All right then, let’s go over your visit to Menwith Hill. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s start from the moment you and Fred drove up to the gate.”
Judy was surprised at how much she liked this process. She knew how to keep prodding and poking an interviewee, looking for inconsistencies or some hint of a missing element. She had done it so many times before, only this time she was not trying to break down a suspect; she was trying to test a man’s memory and assemble a consistent narrative.
They did this for forty-five minutes, until Dennis could not sit any longer.
“I don’t know how you did it,” he said, standing, “but you made me feel like I was hiding something. Like I was lying. How did you do that?”
“Are you lying?” She laughed.
“No! It’s just that you made me feel that way. You policewomen are horrible.”
“Well, let’s take a break. Then I want to go over your notes from the video you watched.”
“Maybe you’re taking this assignment a little too seriously,” Dennis said.
“You told me I needed to sink my teeth into something.”
“You’re like a terrier. You sink your teeth in and then you don’t let go.”
“But I’m happy doing this. I feel like my brain is working again. It’s exciting.”
Dennis looked at Judy for a long time.
“What?” she said.
“How did we end up like this, you and I?” Dennis said, wrinkling his forehead.
“What do you mean?”
“I met you on an investigation in Western Australia less than two years ago, and it’s been a strange mix of boredom when we’re not together and complete, utter chaos when we are together. And what you just went through makes my stomach churn. So here we are in a small hotel room in London. I can’t tell if we’re about to enter the boredom phase or the chaos phase.”
Judy turned and looked at the bright light coming from the gauzy white window curtains. In the street below she could hear the mechanical voices of the city calling: the deep-throated chug of the diesel-powered buses; the high-pitched whine of the passenger cars and cabs. She sighed.
“Do you think we’re going to make it?” she said.
“Make what?”
“You know, as a couple?”
“I think so.”
“You just think? I was hoping you would just say ‘yes, we’ll make it.’”
Dennis stood up, stretched and put his hands on top of his head and left them there.
“I don’t think I’m good for you,” he said. “I cause too much trouble. People die around me or get injured. Or abducted. You don’t know how hard it is to look at you sometimes and realize how guilty I feel for bringing you to London and exposing you to that creep Voorster.”
“Oh, Dennis, you had no control over that. You’re just being … well, I don’t know what.”
“Every time I look at you I’m reminded of how I made a beautiful woman suffer so badly.”
“Dennis! Stop talking like that.”
He dropped his hands to his side.
“I can’t help it. My therapist said I was a professional self-flagellator.”
“That sounds vaguely obscene,” she said.
Dennis chuckled and then sighed. “I do better when I’m on a mission and solving things. This Arnold thing is a mess. One guy I liked a lot — which is unusual, because I don’t have a lot of friends — is already dead. I’ve got Louise breathing down my neck — why does she care so much about this stupid case? And now it looks like the ops people are just going to stall until the clock runs out. And there’s you.”
“What about me?” Judy said, eyeing him closely.
“I feel like I’m not helping you whatsoever.”
“Now you sound depressed,” she said. “Stop it. You’re being too negative. Sit down and let’s go over your notes from your visit to Menwith Hill.”
“I can’t sit any longer,” he said.
“Sit!” she said, pointing to the chair.
Dennis fell into the chair, and Judy picked up where they had left off, running him through every minute detail of the visit to the NSA listening post in the north of England.
✦
“How did you guess she was contaminated?” Ian said.
>
“It’s a long story,” Dennis said, sitting across from his MI5 friend in small coffee shop.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me,” Ian said.
“I’m not supposed to be discussing this.”
“Don’t insult me, Dennis.”
Dennis leaned forward and placed his open palm on the small table. “Give me your phone.”
“My mobile?”
“Yes.”
Ian wrinkled his forehead, drew the small phone out of the inside of his tweed jacket and put it in Dennis’s hand.
Dennis removed his phone and took both of them up to the man behind the counter.
“Can you please put these into your refrigerator for a few minutes?”
“You want me to put them in the fridge?” the proprietor said.
“Yes,” Dennis said, taking out a five-pound note and laying it on the counter. “Just for a few minutes.”
The man picked up the two phones, turned, and opened the glass door of the refrigerator behind him, pushed two soft drinks aside, and put the phones down on the rack. He turned back to Dennis and shrugged.
“Dennis, was that necessary?” Ian asked. “Do you really think someone’s listening in to our conversation using mobile phones?”
“Ian, how long have we known each other?”
“Lord, I don’t know. Perhaps ten years. Sometimes with you it seems much longer.”
Dennis laughed.
“Even for a cynic like me, I know they can listen in whenever they want. So I take precautions. You should too.”
“A bit paranoid these days, are we, Dennis?”
“You’re either being purposefully misleading, or you’re too naïve, Ian.”
“Ah. Well perhaps you and I are a bit of both.”
“Mmm,” Dennis said. “Ian, I think you know exactly why there was radiation on this woman and where it came from and why she was exposed. What I can’t figure out is why you’re acting like you don’t know those things.”
Ian looked down at his paper cup full of tepid tea as if straining to read something.
“Well, the thing is, we don’t know what you Yanks are up to. A bit baffling, actually.”
“Can you be a bit more specific?” Dennis said.