“Benef, benefec, benefector,” she silently mouthed. “Benefactor. Joao is my benefactor.”
“Yes. I don’t know if Carole knew she was about to die or not, but I think that note was for me, Smythe. When I put it together just like you did, I knew I needed to confront Joao about it.”
Smythe rejected even the notion that Joao was the benefactor providing the monies for her protection. How could he be? she thought. It seemed too shocking to comprehend. He wouldn’t mask his identity. Not from me. And if he was my benefactor, why would he hide it? None of this makes any sense.
All of this time, she thought Joao had befriended her, counseled her, loved her.
“What did he say?” Smythe asked, her heartache pained across her face.
“He confirmed it.”
Artie went into detail about her conversation with the baker, which included the murder of his daughter, the death of his wife, and his reasons for assisting in the protection of Smythe.
“He says he didn’t know that the person he was protecting was you until we came into the shop the day after the first attempt on your life occurred. Do you recall pouring your heart out to him then?”
“I do.”
“It was then that he discovered it was you that his money was invested in, and that it was me who was protecting you.”
Smythe took in a breath and released it. “I’m not going to pretend like I’m not, Artie. I’m in shock. I’m also saddened by his motivation for bankrolling my protection. I think that hurts the most.”
“Baby, there’s more.”
Smythe looked into Artie’s eyes. She suddenly felt weary, her heart grieving for her friend. To experience such tragedy—the thought of it all was more than she thought she could bear. But she wanted to hear it all; she even felt compelled to listen to it all. She sat very still and hung on every syllable Artie spoke.
Artie explained Joao’s deteriorating health, and that, given her conversation with him, death was imminent but not immediate, and he was insistent no amount of money would save him. Now unable to contain her grief, Smythe’s’ eyes filled with tears as she looked around the bathroom, searching for the strength to respond.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I knew something was wrong, but I thought it was just his age. I always wondered who would take over his business, wrongly believing he had children to take it over,” Smythe said, choking back tears. “Can we go see him tomorrow? I’d like to hug him.”
Artie slowly shook her head.
“Baby, we can’t. They just killed Carole. My gut tells me they’re coming for you. For all intents and purposes, consider yourself in a modified version of WitSec. After the trial, yes, of course, we can go see him, but until then, we just can’t.”
Smythe remembered her promise to Artie. She reminded herself she would double down on her efforts to follow Artie’s lead when it came to her protection. Faced with a deep need to see her friend, she found it difficult to keep that promise now.
She expressed her need to disobey Artie; that Joao was the closest thing to a real father that she had. She feared he would die before she had the opportunity to reconnect with him and asked Artie to reconsider. Artie, however, remained steadfast. She said she could not force Smythe to refrain from visiting the baker, but she hoped Smythe would remain in the apartment.
As the bath water cooled, Artie sat up and let the water begin to drain from the tub. The air around her felt heavy, and Artie found it difficult to hold up her own body weight. Smythe steadied her as she stood up and turned on the shower so she could wash her body. Once Artie was finished bathing, Smythe helped her out of the shower, dried her off, and got her dressed into a pair of sleeping boxers and a T-shirt. They got into bed and held each other.
“What if he dies before I can see him again?” Smythe asked again desperately.
“He won’t. He has quite a bit of time. I promised Joao we would still order our food from him. My team will pick it up and keep us informed of his appearance. How about instead of an in-person conversation, you send him notes with my team? He can answer them at his leisure. That’s the best I can offer.”
“Can I call him instead? Or I could buy him a cellphone with texting capabilities so we could text one another.”
“Baby, it’s too unsecured. Written, sealed notes delivered by my team only.”
“It hurts, Artie, but I made a promise to you.”
Smythe moved from Artie’s arms and rose from her bed. She padded into the dining room, where she turned on the overhead light. Finding a pad of paper and a pencil, she sat at the dining room table. Staring at the pad, she began to write. An hour later, she returned to a sleeping Artie. As she entered into bed, Artie took her into her arms and returned to sleep.
The Gray SUV
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE BUSY. SMYTHE SPENT LONG HOURS writing and studying while Artie spent several hours a day in meetings with her teams and members of the FBI, poring over security plans in preparation for a wedding Smythe would attend.
The wedding was for the daughter of Smythe’s best friend, Sue McPherson. A single parent, Sue raised her two children, Bernard and Kelly, alone after the death of her husband. She was the finance manager for a government agency and was welcoming of Smythe, who was later hired in as the Training and Education Manager for the same agency. Over a few years, Sue and Smythe became friends, much to the surprise of everyone around them.
They were an unlikely pair. Sue was an older, hazel-eyed woman with straight, blonde hair, jocular in nature with an infectious laugh and witty sense of humor. As Smythe would say, Sue was the only one who could ever get her to relax. Smythe was all work and no play, serious in her demeanor, and polite, yet cautious in dealings with anyone in the workplace.
It was heartbreaking for the best friends when the organization furloughed Smythe, but it deepened their friendship. They confirmed their fondness for one another, calling each other a grade school girlish name—“bestie best.” Although a bit quirky, the name was an accurate description of the deep bond they had developed. That bestie best relationship even caused the delay of Smythe’s start date with her new employer in the valley, as she wanted to wait until after they had completed a road trip they had planned. The best friends spent two glorious weeks on the road that would take them up through Portland, Oregon, to Seattle, Washington, and finally into British Columbia.
After returning from their trip, they kept in contact with one another through text messages or phone calls. It was Sue who matched every tear of frustration and sorrow as Smythe described her father’s latest escapades with his degenerative disease. It was Sue who never missed a birthday or holiday without sending a card, a gift, or unexpectedly showing up to spend a weekend with her friend. Above all, it was Sue who made Smythe feel loved unconditionally. There was nothing they would not share with the other, knowing they were accepted by the other for who they are.
Sue’s daughter understood the relationship her mother built with Smythe and graciously invited Smythe to her wedding. It was this wedding that Smythe was now determined to attend.
At first reluctant to make the necessary accommodations, Smythe held her ground, insisting that she go.
“Artie, this wedding is much too important for me not to attend. It is a momentous occasion for my bestie! This case has taken too much from both of us. I won’t have it take one more moment of life from you or me! Not one. Stay if you want, but I’m going.”
“Smythe, I get it. I do. It’s just—”
“It’s risky, I know. But, Artie, I haven’t seen her in a year. I already have to feign some stupid reason why she can’t come to visit. This case cannot be the demise of our friendship. I’ve got to go.”
“Actually, I was going to say that there are just some variables to consider, but I’m working on it.”
Smythe smiled. “Thank you. Thank you from me, and thank you from Sue. If she knew—”
“She would tell me I am being foolhardy for
planning this.” Artie searched Smythe’s eyes before turning on her heels and leaving the apartment.
Artie was meticulous in every detail in preparation for travel. She obtained detailed images of the neighborhood and residence where Smythe was scheduled to stay and planned a daily egress rotation into and out of the neighborhood. Earlier in the month, she dispatched a team to conduct reconnaissance of the church and wedding reception hall, gathering a list of all of the employees scheduled to work at both venues and replaced several of them with her own security detail. Several travel routes were created, and cybersecurity protocols were put into place.
On the day of departure, Smythe asserted her independence from her mother and chose to bypass a visit to her to say goodbye, instead deciding to give her a call. Something in her mother’s voice sounded different to her, but she shrugged off the odd tenor, refusing to “story tell.”
Smythe, Artie, and Dennis traveled in Artie’s team vehicle while another team drove in Smythe’s SUV. Two additional teams caravanned with the SUV. Without incident, the caravan arrived at their destination. They met up with an additional team that had been dispatched to surveil the residence days before Smythe’s arrival. One block before arriving, Smythe was allowed to get into her own vehicle and pull into the driveway of her friend Loretta’s home.
Smythe smiled as she pulled up. Loretta was her former director of human resources at the organization where she had met Sue. The two had rarely spoken since the day Smythe left the organization. It wasn’t that Smythe was angry at Loretta. In fact, the friendship between them was rather strong. What Smythe really felt was a sense of embarrassment. Smythe often wondered what she could have done differently that perhaps would have changed the executive team’s decision to eliminate her position.
“But those were bygones,” she told herself. More than anything, Smythe remained grateful Loretta was the one who broke the news of a furlough to her, especially since Loretta was on leave, battling an aggressive form of breast cancer. With a wide grin on her face, Smythe walked up to the door of Loretta’s home and knocked.
“Oh Smythe! You’re here! You’re here!” Loretta exclaimed. She held out her arms and held Smythe in a long, tight hug, refusing to loosen her embrace even though Smythe had begun to loosen her wrap around Loretta.
“It’s so good to see you Loretta. It’s been a long time,” Smythe said, her words muffled into Loretta’s shoulder.
“Too long. Come in, come in. Moi isn’t here, but will be here shortly. We have so much catching up to do. I want to hear everything!”
Over the next couple of days, Smythe was in constant motion. She spent the first evening catching up with Loretta. As she reflected on her stay much later, she felt it was worth the discomfort of staying at her friend’s home rather than the independence of a hotel room—away from the arms of Artie. As she and Loretta engaged in heartfelt conversations about each other’s lives, she felt a deep sense of gratitude to her Beloved for allowing a bonding connection to emerge between her friend and her family.
The next morning, Smythe had a quick breakfast with Sue before changing and heading to the church. The church only held 100 or so people, and it was packed. At Sue’s insistence, Smythe sat squeezed at the end of the second pew from the front while her best friend sat just in front of her at the opposite end. Smythe glanced around her. She recognized a number of her best friend’s family. Uncle Thomas, a tall, slender man with a head which displayed a horseshoe bald patch, sat to her left, alongside his wife Margie, a short Hispanic woman whose head barely reached to her husband’s stomach. They were Sue’s favorite family. An assortment of cousins sat next to them, and her sister sat at the opposite end of the pew. Smythe smiled at the honor she was offered to sit amongst them.
Artie stood at the back of the church, making sure to still have a clear vantage point of Smythe. She couldn’t help but grin. Smythe radiated joy witnessing her best friend dab her eyes, beaming with pride as her daughter and new son-in-law repeated their vows to one another.
After the ceremony, Smythe, Artie, and the teams made their way to the reception. Artie’s secondary teams were also in place, blending into the crowd. Yet, Artie also knew a potential threat would blend in as well. She flanked the wedding reception with her teams, who posed as waiters, busboys, and bartenders. Smythe was instructed where to sit, and Artie served as the waiter for her table. Throughout the rest of the evening, Smythe remained at her table, for the most part, enjoying easy conversations with old acquaintances and friends alike.
The following day, a small, intimate party was thrown at Loretta’s home—a last-minute gathering which left Artie scrambling to ensure Smythe’s safety. A plan was quickly put into place, which included wiring Smythe with a hidden com unit in addition to a tracking device that Artie equipped Smythe with before they arrived.
“So, Smythe, I forgot to ask you—are you seeing someone?” Loretta inquired.
“Me, Loretta? When would I have time?”
“That’s your answer every time I ask about your love life. I don’t know if you noticed, but there was a beautifully handsome woman who waited on your table yesterday during the reception. She seemed interested.”
Seated in the front passenger seat of her SUV, listening to the conversation unfold, Artie raised her head and looked toward Loretta’s house.
“Oh, stop it,” Smythe replied
“I’m serious. I know you have great intuition, but you’re horrible when it comes to noticing when someone’s interested. She was definitely eyeing.”
“Relent already, Lor. I’m far too busy.”
“You’re going to have to stop hiding sometime, Smythe.”
“I’m going to have to work on my stealthiness,” Artie mumbled under her breath as she smirked to herself.
On their final morning, Smythe said her heartfelt goodbyes to her friend and family before driving a block away to pick up Artie and Dennis. As she entered Artie’s vehicle, Smythe asked for time to visit the beach before returning to the valley. Artie and Dennis toyed with her for a minute at first, denying her request.
“Nah, Daniels, we’ve got to get back before traffic gets heavy. Next time,” Dennis replied as he eyed Artie.
“I understand. I just thought 10 minutes on the beach wouldn’t put us behind in terms of traffic. But I get it.”
“We got you covered, Smythe. Which beach?” Artie said as they drove away, watching Smythe’s eyes light up.
Smythe chose a beach she had often returned to when in town. It was off the beaten tourist path, an almost deserted stretch of land which held no homes or apartments alongside the shoreline, save a short row of tourist shops a quarter mile from the shoreline with a small parking lot alongside the road.
Once the caravan arrived at the ocean, Smythe asked Artie to join her for a walk along the beach. The couple walked slowly through the sand, allowing the waves to wash over their feet. It was a feeling Smythe had longed for so many months ago. For Smythe, it seemed like a perfect morning. The fog had yet to lift, the crisp ocean air nibbled her cheeks, and she held a hope for a future.
Artie, however, was on high alert. For her, something felt off, yet she knew she should stop long enough to satisfy Smythe’s need for this scenery. She peered around, noting her security detail’s position on the beach.
“It’s been a good couple of days. I’m glad I came,” Smythe said as she stared out to the water. Her hands jammed into her navy-blue linen pants, the air felt colder than she remembered for that time of year, and she wished she had worn a windbreaker. She smiled to herself and wondered if her body had become too accustomed to the constant heat of the valley.
“I’m glad you came, too. It was good to see you laugh again.”
“Even though you initially objected?”
“Yes. Even though I initially objected. Your friends are delightful.”
“I only wish you could have been by my side the entire time. My friends would love you.”
“Play your cards right, and maybe one day we can come back, and you can introduce me.”
“Play my cards right?!” Smythe exclaimed. In a display of playfulness, she kicked up the ocean water onto Artie’s legs.
“Oh, you want to start something!” Artie said with a laugh and kicked the ocean water back toward Smythe.
Smythe stopped and turned toward the Pacific Ocean. She remained quiet for some time. Taking in the foggy morning and the smell of the saltwater, she breathed deeply. “I want to live in a small bungalow home.”
Artie surveyed her love and nodded as Smythe continued to look out onto the sea. For Smythe, this felt like home, and she was the most relaxed she had been in a long time. They continued to stroll along the sand, watching the endless waves rumble onto the shore. They listened to the echo of the seagulls’ cry as the sun only began to glint through the gray sky above.
“Baby, we should get going before traffic gets too heavy.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for giving me the time to do this. I know you’re concerned. I can feel your tension,” Smythe offered. “Let’s go.”
They began to turn around when Artie became aware of a greater inner disturbance. Something wasn’t right. Artie scanned the road and parking lot before peering out toward the ocean. There, she spotted him. A middle-aged man with his hands in his pocket, gray hoodie and matching pants, walking toward them in the ocean water, blending into the backdrop of the ocean. To anyone casually observing him, he looked just like any other tourist taking in the sights and sound of the ocean. Only he wasn’t looking at the ocean; he was looking at Smythe.
“Walk faster, Smythe. Head directly to the SUV,” Artie quietly said. Smythe heard the undertone of urgency in Artie’s voice and did not question her. She stepped up her pace, ready to run at a moment’s notice.
The stranger was too far behind her for facial recognition, but Artie was confident she had seen him before. He had probably blended into the events over the past couple of days. What were the odds that he would end up at this particular stretch of the beach at the same time Smythe was there?
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