“I will in a minute. I don’t think we’re done here, Smythe. This is really about who you are, isn’t it? Who you say you are.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, have you murdered, raped, or otherwise pillaged in your past?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is there to tell?”
“The girl who makes up stories,” Smythe said, bowing her head.
Artie lifted her head slightly, her chin protruding out and lips pursed. She narrowed her eyes and took in a breath, allowing the silence between them to speak.
“Baby,” Artie began. “I know the remnants of your mother and father’s lies still rattle around inside that head of yours. Yet, at some point, you will have to dismiss those ghosts as lies, which always work to derail you. I know the person who is standing in front of me. I know the person I want my own son to come to know. That person is emotionally messy. She is complicated. She is compassionate, kind-hearted, and loving, and how you became all of those things required a past. We all have them. See your past for what it is, Smythe. It helped make you who you are today.”
“I’m such a private person, Artie. I don’t want people mucking around in my life. I resent that complete strangers who don’t know me feel as though they have the right to judge my life. I doubt they would approve of someone looking into their past; I doubt they are without blemish!”
Artie dropped her chin toward her chest and looked up toward Smythe, her gray-brown eyes softening. “A lot of famous people have said the exact same thing. Yet, somehow, they’ve come to believe that kind of scrutiny comes with the territory.”
Smythe attempted to counter, but was quickly cut off again.
“Wait—I know you didn’t ask for this territory, but it’s what you’ve walked into.” She took a few steps toward Smythe, reached for her hand and placed it over her own heart.
“The only thing you can be accused of, my dear Smythe, is stealing my heart.”
“Oh, dear God in heaven! That is probably the corniest line I have ever heard come out of your mouth,” Smythe snorted.
“Hey, a girl’s gotta try!”
“I appreciate the truth of it, Artie. I’ll hold you accountable at the end of all of this… if there is an end.”
“You got this,” Artie said, squeezing Smythe’s hand.
“Oh, now I got this. All year long, you were the only one allowed to ‘got this.’ Now I got this?” Smythe laughed.
“Well, yeah, but only this once. Now we can call in the teams. I need to brief them, and I want you in the room to hear it all.”
“In a minute. I need some bathroom time.”
“Ok?” Artie said hesitantly.
“I think right now I need to think a better thought rather than the ones rolling around in my head. I’ll be out shortly.”
Smythe turned and walked toward her bathroom and closed the door. She felt nauseous, and panic threatened to upend her. She also did not really want to hear about the security plans. They frightened her, but she knew she was the reason for them and therefore had to muster the courage to face her fear.
I just need a moment. Just a moment to breathe.
She stood before her bathroom mirror. Staring into the brown eyes of her own reflection, Smythe whispered lovingkindness to herself.
“I love you, Smythe. I really do. Yesterday was a great day, and, believe it or not, today will be, too. You have always done the best job you could do with the limited knowledge, skills, and awareness that you have in the given moment. I need you to be the light in this darkness, and remember: I’ve got your back. I love you.”
Smythe continued to offer a loving smile to herself in the mirror. She repeated a couple of her affirmations, which began to cement her confidence. Gazing at herself in the mirror, a quiet thought drifted gently into her thoughts.
You have sufficiency for the day.
In slight shock, she stood perfectly still. In that beautiful, revealing thought, she heard her response to her Beloved’s statement.
But I’ve always just wanted to be self-sufficient.
She paused to replay what she had just thought.
There it is.
She caught her subconscious, and the storage of all things offered her a key.
That’s it. Your belief that YOU provide your sufficiency.
She smiled knowingly and spoke aloud.
“Smythe, the reality is your Beloved provides it. That which lives in you, moves through you, that which you have your be-ing, provides it. You are simply the beautiful vessel to move into inspired action. That is your sufficiency.”
It’s All Come Down to This
WHILE SMYTHE STOOD IN THE BATHROOM, ARTIE BEGAN TO CALL in her teams one at a time, reminding each of them what was at stake.
“The FBI never found the weapon that killed the vic. They did, however, conduct ballistics testing on the bullets from the body and determined that the same weapon had been used in several unsolved murders over the past five years. Their link to this specific murder was a credible eyewitness account—Smythe’s account. The store security footage corroborates her story. In securing this conviction, the DA feels confident that they will have cut off the head to the crime ring. Our job is to make sure she is able to testify fully and completely and to bring her safely home.”
Artie reviewed transportation plans to the courthouse. Based on the team’s assignment, she described in detail the specific security pattern she wanted enforced. Barring any overt threat, of utmost concern to her was getting Smythe into the courthouse and to the secured waiting room before the trial commenced.
Smythe appeared from the bathroom and walked into the kitchen in time to hear the last of the teams briefed.
“We don’t know who they’ve turned; therefore, we will have to assume everyone—and I do mean everyone—is suspect. Pay attention to reporters, security officers, court personnel, police officers, even FBI agents. Leave nothing to chance. The FBI has arranged for an escort into the courthouse through a secured entrance. Both Dennis and I have walked the route. If your gut tells you there’s a problem, assume there is one and report in. All com links will be wide open, and Smythe will have a tracking device placed on her. We will use a two four two pattern once inside the courthouse. Understood?”
“What armor will she have on?” a security member asked.
“Leave that to me,” Artie replied.
That was a vague answer, Smythe thought as she looked out toward Artie.
“Any other questions? Ok then, grab your coffee and get set up. Let’s bring her home.”
Once the security detail left the apartment, Smythe faced Artie.
“Leave that to me? What was that?”
“I’m leaving nothing to chance Smythe, not even my own teams. I trust them, but this is a big case. I’ve received word that reporters are already beginning to set up at the courthouse, specifically for your arrival. Families of former victims are scheduled to be there as well. I need to bring you back in one piece, and if that means leaving some of the details only to me, so be it.”
Artie’s voice held an edge to it. The last time Smythe heard that sharpness was on their way back from the wedding a few months ago.
“You think you’re missing something, don’t you?”
“I know I am. And because I don’t know what it is yet, I need to keep some of the security details to my vest only.”
“Not even to Dennis?”
Artie did not reply.
“Just tell me you are going to be wearing armor as well.”
“Yes, I will be.”
Smythe’s jaw tightened. She could only begin to see the enormity of the security plan and the impact it was having on her love.
“How can I help?”
“Follow only my commands, and if I say something out of character, trust your gut. You know me. You’ve watched how I operate. Trust your gut and get yourself to safety.”
“Ok, I can do that, but to be honest
, I’m a little frightened right now.”
“I know, but frightened is good. It will give you an edge if your life depends on it. Besides, you strike me as a woman of action when you’re afraid.” She glanced at Smythe, sensing the hesitancy.
“Baby, don’t worry. I’ll be by your side. Let me tell you what will happen, ok?”
“Ok, yeah, I think that will help.”
“Once we’re to the courthouse, even though you will be wearing your hat, I’ll be holding your head down as we move through the doors. You will be held in a secured room until called to testify. I’ll outfit you with additional body armor undetectable under your clothes, so I would suggest you wear something loose-fitting. Once you’re called, you will be brought into the courtroom by sheriff’s deputies. They’ll take you directly to the witness stand. Once on the stand, simply answer their questions. During breaks, you will then exit the witness stand and be met by sheriff’s deputies to return to the conference room. At the end of the day, I will follow them out with you. They’ll walk you to the secured hallway, and once in the hallway, my team and I will resume control over your security.”
“Umm. Ok. That’s a lot to digest. I think we should eat. It might be a long day.”
“You should eat. I do better on an empty stomach. Let’s get some protein in you to soak up your coffee.”
Together they made a light breakfast of granola and buckwheat toast with almond butter. While Smythe ate, Artie excused herself to take a shower and dress. When she re-appeared, she was dressed in a formidable black suit and gray pinstripe shirt. Smythe nodded at Artie’s appearance, admiring how the gray pinstripe accentuated the gray in Artie’s eyes. She smiled, thinking about how Artie protected and loved her. She watched in admiration as Artie holstered her weapon and placed the holster to the small of her back. It was now time for Smythe to ready herself.
“My turn. Ten minutes.”
Smythe entered the bathroom and closed the door. Artie quietly stood at the door of the bathroom. Once she was satisfied Smythe would not exit anytime soon, she quickly walked into the dining room closet and removed a large duffle bag she had hidden in the furthest corner. She placed the duffle bag on the floor in front of her and unzipped it. She double-checked her list: passport, cash, and enough clothing for at least two weeks.
It’ll have to do.
She moved over to Smythe’s small office alcove. She took a piece of paper from one of Smythe’s notebooks and quickly jotted a note and shoved it into her pants pocket.
Sorry babe it has to be this way.
She zipped the duffle bag, grabbed Smythe’s car key, carried the duffle bag out of the apartment, and placed it into the back-storage compartment of Smythe’s SUV. She looked around, noting that her SUVs were just beginning to make their way into the complex.
No one should suspect it here.
Dennis walked over to her and held a brief but stern and clipped conversation with her.
“Be careful; you’ve got too much at stake for this to fail,” Dennis said before walking away.
Artie took in a breath, staring a hole into the head of her second in command. She murmured under her breath, nodding before returning to the apartment. She entered to find Smythe dressed and about to pour herself another cup of coffee.
“Unwise, babe. You might find yourself needing to go to the bathroom more often than you’d like.”
Smythe nodded and put the coffee pot back on the burner. Artie surveyed Smythe’s attire—a navy blue loose-fitting blazer and matching slacks offset by a bright white button-down shirt. She nodded her approval, solemnly approaching Smythe.
“Do you have the vest on?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Artie nodded. She outfitted her with three separate tracking devices. One in her messenger bag, one inside her bra, and a third under her pants on the outside of her thigh.
Smythe smiled at Artie. “Um, I think this is a bit overkill, don’t you think?”
“No, actually, it’s not. If you are separated from your bag, I can still track you. If someone finds the one in your bra, which is where they would look, you still have the one on your thigh.”
“And what makes you think they won’t pull my pants off?”
“I have a feeling you would be fighting before you let that happen. I’ve seen you lift. Those pants aren’t coming off easy.”
“Yes, but—”
“Smythe! I got this. It’s not my first rodeo.”
“Hey—heyyy! Honey, I was just trying to keep it light.”
She stopped Artie from fiddling with her clothing and wrapped her arms around her, kissing her lightly on the neck.
“It’s going to be ok. Really. I got this,” Smythe said with a mischievous look.
“No, you don’t got this. I got this.”
Smythe leaned back from her embrace and smiled. Artie searched Smythe’s eyes and smiled back.
“I see what you did there. Clever, Smythe. Clever.”
“You’ve had this from the beginning. Never forget that.”
Artie smirked and nodded. God, I love this woman.
A knock came at their door and Dennis entered as Artie approached him.
“It’s time.”
Smythe took in a breath.
It seems like only yesterday. Yet, it was a lifetime ago when my world changed the minute I stepped across the threshold of my home out to have a cigarette. I don’t even smoke any more.
She turned off the coffee pot and the lights to the kitchen and walked to Artie, who motioned her toward the front door. She took a step over the threshold and let out an audible gasp, stopping mid-step. Eyes widened, she moved her head slowly from side to side to take everything in. Before her, bathed in morning sunlight, sat eight large black SUVs in the parking lot.
Artie took her hand, gently tugging at it to move Smythe forward. Smythe stepped out on to her patio, closed the door to her apartment, and locked it. Her fingers lightly touched the lock. Her here-now was a seminal moment, and she stood wondering—wondering whether she was up for the task set before her. Could she be brave enough to handle whatever the day would bring? Would she live into her dreams, or would she die?
A stillness settled in and around her amidst the energy that everyone around exuded, and her answer rose from the depth of core—a place she had yet to fully explore or understand. She glimpsed a cup of water bobbing in a pail of water, and she knew her answer.
Yes.
She turned toward Artie and followed her to the waiting SUV. Artie escorted Smythe into the backseat of one of the vehicles before joining her on the other side. To Smythe’s surprise, Dennis was not riding with them, but instead would drive an SUV positioned in front of them.
The SUVs rolled out of the complex one after another. The scene reminded her of an important government official’s funeral procession. Forgetting her recent vision, she silently hoped her internal description would not prove accurate. As her SUV exited the complex, she saw an additional four SUVs idling along the roadside. Artie created four separate caravans containing three SUVs each. Once out onto the main road, each caravan positioned themselves at different locations on the street.
This would have been an impressive sight to watch if it weren’t so damn scary.
The courthouse sat at the far end of the historic district of the city—a densely populated portion of downtown. Government buildings flanked the courthouse with attorneys’ offices and restaurants dotting the opposite side of the street. Given the time of morning, Artie timed the drive in all directions and determined it would take 20 minutes with all but one caravan converging at the courthouse simultaneously.
Just as Artie had instructed, at the first intersection, the SUVs started their security pattern. Peeling off either left, right or forward, it was impossible to distinguish which caravan held Smythe and Artie. Artie continued to orchestrate the pattern, keeping in constant communication with her teams. Based on time, at the designated halfway point for each carava
n, all reported in that no unusual activity had developed.
Hurdle one down.
A lone caravan which had arrived well before all others exited their vehicles and created a human corridor along with sheriff’s deputies into a back entrance to the courthouse waiting for Smythe’s arrival.
“Five minutes out,” Artie said into her com unit. “Lone Star, prepare for arrival.”
“Lone Star is set.”
One minute later, Smythe’s caravan approached the rear of the courthouse. With another caravan meeting up with hers, Smythe peeked over at Artie, who concentrated on the laptop set up before her.
What kind of woman have I fallen in love with? No wonder she’s been on edge.
Smythe’s SUV pulled up first, next to the entrance. Artie exited the vehicle with Smythe scooting over and exiting behind her. Just as she had been briefed, Artie asked Smythe to bend her knees, torso, and head. Artie walked on one side of Smythe, gently holding her head down with Dennis on the other side. Artie’s teams conducted a two four two pattern, taking point behind three deputies. As they flanked Artie, Smythe, and Dennis, additional teams took up positions beside the trio and at the rear of the procession.
The fourth caravan arrived at the front of the courthouse, acting as a diversion for reporters to swarm and allowing Smythe and court personnel to arrive unburdened by the media frenzy.
Artie and Smythe were ushered into a conference room just off of the courtroom. The room was brightly lit but smelled musty, causing Smythe to cough and turn up her nose as she entered in. The floor was covered in a dingy, low pile brown carpet with walls painted beige and lined with floor to ceiling dark brown bookshelves holding case law books. In the center of the room sat a large oak table surrounded by half a dozen brown office chairs. To Smythe’s taste, there were far too many chairs around the table, giving the overall energy of the room a claustrophobic feeling. At the back of the room, a small door led to a one-person restroom. Once inside, the door was locked. Dennis took command of the teams and stationed two of them outside the conference room door along with a court deputy.
That leaves only the interior of the courtroom unsecured by my people, Artie thought.
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