“Dennis was also wary because there were a few minutes where you were going to be extremely exposed. I put your life at risk,” Artie said, bowing her head for a moment.
“That’s why I had you put on the different vest. It could take several direct hits. It’s state of the art and expensive as hell. Even my teams knew nothing about it. But it was worth the investment.”
Smythe nodded. “You thought they might simply shoot me dead center if they had the chance.”
“God. There was just so much at stake. To be completely honest, for the first time ever, I even had my doubts about Dennis. He seemed to be too enthusiastic about these guys coming on board. Why not, I guess. He did recommend them to my agency. So—”
“So, you held back—even from him.”
“Yes. I was becoming paranoid. I didn’t know who I could trust. Carole was dead, and a new agent was in charge of your case. So, yeah, I held back.” Artie winced as she adjusted her back against the headboard.
“Why don’t I get some water so you can take a pain pill.”
“Not yet. You deserve to hear it all,” Artie said, waving off any attempt by Smythe.
“The plan was to create a security breach that the team would believe. I would voice concern about leaving you in the conference room alone, albeit under lock and key. My hunch was that the two newbies would step up and offer to take you back to the SUV and head home. Dennis, to my surprise and relief, played along. I must admit, I had a secondary plan if he had not played along. But I didn’t have to worry.
“I made the request to the teams over the com unit. I wanted a team to come to my position just outside of the courtroom and grab a note. Sure enough, they stepped up. I convinced them that you would not go with them and to hand you the note.”
“Yeah, I thought that was the oddest thing. I mean, you called me sweetheart! You’ve never called me that. And then that whole thing about walking close to them threw me for a loop.”
“Trust your gut.”
In an instant, Smythe understood. She remembered their conversation at the apartment and immediately realized why Artie asked her to trust her gut, and why she used the term sweetheart instead of baby.
“Even at the apartment, you had already put your plan in motion. But I still don’t understand why you asked me to walk close to them.”
“I knew they wouldn’t fire on you inside of the conference room or the courthouse. They wouldn’t have made it out alive. Instead, I surmised they would wait to get you into one of my SUVs. So, that meant they would have to walk you through secured portions of the courthouse. I was banking on you being reticent and not doing what I wrote. I knew fear would cause you to filter out everything you knew about me and the way I operate, and whatever remained would be a lie. From where I stood as I caught up to the three of you, I was right.”
“Well, yeah. Everything about that note felt off. I even tried to find a side door to run through.”
Smythe looked directly into Artie’s eyes. “Ya know, I hate to think you know me so well.”
“I do. Remember, I was trained as a profiler.”
“Yeah, there’s that. And a sharpshooter. That skill came in handy.”
“Yeah, it did. And… while I was waiting for you to return with news about Dennis, the special investigator in charge of this case paid me a visit. They did some quick digging into my two guys. It appears they were turned by the ring. Both had been former law enforcement. They got caught with their hands in a honey pot a few years back by the syndicate. So, they did some side jobs for them in exchange for the syndicate’s silence.” Artie let out a low audible breath. “Damn it, I knew bett—”
“Stop it, Artie. You’re not perfect.”
Artie looked up at Smythe, locking eyes.
“Remember when you asked me about the firm I worked for?”
“Yeah. I knew something had happened.”
“A witness was killed after the guy beat an extortion conviction. The extortion trial was fairly high-profile. I was not the attorney on record, but I knew about the case. I also suspected the defendant had associations with another group that laundered money in Europe. After the witness was killed, I left the firm. Working for them was now morally indefensible for me. I say all that because while the FBI couldn’t pin the murder on any one person in the ring, the FBI agent I spoke to at the hospital told me my two guys might have been involved in that previous case.”
“You mean that they could have been the ones who killed the extortion witness?”
“Yeah. God, I didn’t know that when I hired them, nor did I know when I brought them on board yesterday and today, but Smythe, my instinct told me something was wrong. I didn’t follow it, and I’m sorry.”
“Honey. How could you have known? Did you have a magic eight ball that showed you the past events of your teams? No. Did you just decide to roll the dice to see how things would turn out? No. That’s not you. Darlin’, you are obsessive about planning. As far as I’m concerned, I’m ok with the result. Not ok with Dennis and you getting hurt, but we’re alive.”
“Smythe, I have always paid attention to my instincts because they have never led me astray. And paying attention to those instincts requires only one thing—one thing. The courage to act on what I know. Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, I find that when I move fearlessly, the more my intuition proves to be spot on.”
Artie huffed and sat in silence. She was unsure what held her back from trusting herself—from trusting her intuition. Like a whisper in the silence of a room, she learned to discern the whisper of her intuition. She never asked questions of it. If her intuition whispered for her to move in a particular direction, she simply moved in that direction. She learned to take reason out of her decision to act because it was not reason that whispered to her. Reason, she learned, would talk her out of following her intuition. No, it was not reason that whispered to her—it was her soul. An intangible part of herself that she did not understand but trusted.
“I’ve asked the FBI to conduct a secondary investigation into all of my guys. I just need to be sure.”
“Ok, then leave it with them. Will this hurt your chances of getting additional assignments from them?”
“I wasn’t supposed to get this one. It was off book by Carole. But no, it will not hurt my chances. The Director seemed satisfied with my role in this case. I have a call with him tomorrow morning.”
Artie glanced at the clock on the steamer trunk.
“Look, It’s after 8 p.m. We missed our flight. I need to call and rebook for the morning.”
Smythe’s heart sank, and a pained frown creased her brow.
“Where are you going?”
“Not me, we. You’ve been through a lot, baby. You’ve been cooped up in your apartment with me for months. Over the past several weeks, we’ve barely even gone out for malasadas. I thought we could go to Leonard’s and pick up a dozen,” Artie said, nodding—her voice conveying a sense of seriousness. She searched Smythe’s eyes, waiting for her to digest the information. Smythe sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes darting from side to side, her frown beginning to lessen.
“I don’t understand. Leonard’s is on Oahu.”
“It is.”
“It’s a long way for just a dozen malasadas, don’t you think?”
Artie remained quiet. Finally, after a few moments, Smythe’s brow completely relaxed, and a smile lit across her eyes.
“We’re going to Oahu?!”
Artie’s voice softened. “Yeah, baby, we’re going to Oahu. I need to rest, and you need a vacation.”
“But what about Dennis? What about the team? Don’t I need to be here if they want more testimony?”
“We’ll check in on Dennis before we leave. He’ll be in good hands with the remainder of my team. Before all of this went down, he was aware we were leaving. He doesn’t know where, but only that we will not be in the valley. Second, closing arguments begin tomorrow, and then it goes to the jury.
With that said, the trial is over as far as you’re concerned. Third, I’ve already cleared travel with the FBI and the DA’s office. While they’re unaware of our destination, they know how to reach me.”
“You still don’t trust Dennis, do you?”
Artie raised an eyebrow and let out a slow breath. “He’s my number two. I trust him implicitly. Yet, there’s still an uneasiness. I don’t know where it’s coming from, so I’m keeping things pretty close to my vest until I sort it out.”
Smythe nodded. “And the FBI and DA’s office? Are they on your no trust list?”
Artie remained quiet.
“Ok. So, we won’t know how the trial ends?”
“We’ll know. I asked my team to reach out to me. There is a secondary FBI investigation connected to this case. The expected conviction of the suspect will play a factor in opening up a much larger investigation. At least, that is the hope.”
“Can you say more about that?”
“No. Not if I want to keep you safe. The less you know, the better.” Artie thought about one of her last conversations with Carole. Carole was beginning to connect the dots between open-air GM crops on the island of Kauai and the chemical companies that planted and sprayed those crops with harmful chemicals. Of particular interest to Artie was her own research after her initial conversation with Carole.
The west side of the island, where the open-air crops were located, impacted mostly native Hawaiians and working-class people of color. A lot of the lands the companies operated on were state land—lands stolen from the kingdom of Hawaii. That land was to be held in trust for the betterment of native Hawaiians. And it was those lands that were still contested. Artie would not yet tell Smythe that, in addition to vacationing on the island of Oahu, Artie would take a day trip to Kauai and hopefully meet with local activists and learn more about the information the missing documents contained.
“But, won’t they try to hurt us, even if we’re on the plane?”
“So many questions, baby. Trust me, I got this.”
“You got this. Yes, yes you do. I gotta pack!” Smythe said, suddenly realizing she was not ready. She sprang off the edge of the bed and opened her closet door. Rustling through her dresser, Smythe began to open each drawer.
“You just need shorts, a couple of pairs of long pants, a shirt or two, a swimsuit, T-shirts, and sandals, and they’re already packed. Even your running gear. Everything is packed and in the back of your SUV.”
Smythe turned toward Artie. “You thought of everything.”
“Not everything.”
“Toiletries. You haven’t packed them because I used them this morning. And my running shoes. They’re here in the closet,” Smythe said as she looked down at the shoes.
“That’s true. But toiletries and running shoes aside, you still haven’t said yes.”
All Things Are in Motion
THE COUPLE SLEPT UNTIL WELL INTO THE EARLY MORNING. AFTER A brief visit with the baker, a call to the Director at the FBI, and a conversation with a now-conscious Dennis and his wife, Artie returned to the apartment to gather Smythe and their luggage before heading to the airport.
Smythe was still a bit skittish and easily startled, but once seated on the plane, she finally began to relax. Of course, the first-class seat didn’t hurt either. She stared out the window with a glass of whisky in one hand and Artie’s hand in her other. She scanned her body. She realized a new emotion had emerged. Something she had not felt before.
But it was not happiness she felt. After everything she went through all those hours, days, and months ago, the people harmed to either protect her or seek justice—happiness in light of it all was not the emotion her body evoked. It was not contentment, either. That would suggest she was at peace and fulfilled, and she knew she was not either of those states of being—in time perhaps, but not just yet.
Smythe remained quiet for a time, listening for the elusive word which matched the feeling in her body. And then it revealed itself. Grounded. She felt grounded in all that had occurred in her life. It seemed to her that everything that happened had unfolded the way it was supposed to. Equally as important, she felt fully present in her here-now moment knowing that her Beloved was in the midst of everything, and within her Beloved lay perfection.
She sat watching the clouds drift below the blue sky and realized she had been waiting for all of this to make sense. A feather floated above her and landed on her chest. She picked it up and held it gently in her hand.
I have yet to piece it all together, my Beloved, but I am similar to this feather. Moving along a path from beginning to end, emptying parts of myself which no longer serve me. At times I was resistant. Ok, a lot of the time, I was resistant, but now I understand. I am willing to go where you lead me.
Artie took the feather from the palm of Smythe’s hand, quickly examining its intricacies.
“The stewardess just walked past us with a pillow. Probably came from there.”
“Hmm. You know, I’ve never flown first-class. What’s interesting is that while there’s real glass, real silverware and china, and feathered pillows, the view out the window is the same view from anywhere on the plane. You could have saved yourself some money and flown business or coach, you know.”
“It’s the service one receives here. And, it’s safer,” Artie remarked. “A private entrance into this section allows me to see who’s coming and going.”
“Is there a possibility that someone is on board with us?”
“Unlikely, baby. You’ve already testified.”
“Well, all of the movies I’ve watched make these kinds of people seem vengeful. Why wouldn’t they want to kill me? It sends a clear message that they’re still in control.”
“True, yet not true. For now, from what I am told, the group is in chaos. They’re probably starting an internal power struggle, and they’ll be too busy infighting to keep you on their radar.”
Smythe returned to gazing out her seat window.
“To ask you not to worry is pointless, but I am going to suggest it anyway. Don’t look over your shoulder. Don’t think about the ‘what ifs.’ I have daily reports coming in, and it’s my job to think about your safety.”
“But you need to relax, too. I’m concerned for you as well. They must know who you are, right?”
“They do.”
Artie’s response was a bit of a gut punch to Smythe. While she appreciated the truth of it, what she really wanted was assurance that Artie would be safe.
Artie searched Smythe’s face and then whispered. “Remember, I was an FBI agent, and I worked with a firm that had members of the syndicate as clients. And then, there were my two guys. I assume they’ve always known.”
“But you weren’t a threat back then. Now that you’re protecting me, aren’t you more of a threat?”
“Stop. You’ll make yourself sick.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“Choose.”
Smythe sighed. She knew Artie was right. She remembered her teachings. All thought is energy. All thoughts create things. All things are in motion.
“While we’re away, let’s make plans,” Artie suggested.
“For what?”
“To leave the valley. You can work from anywhere, and so can I. Let’s make our dreams come true. Wadda ya say? You up for a new adventure?”
“Sounds like music to my heart, love.”
Epilogue
It Was You All Along
SHE LISTENED TO THE MELODIC WAVES WASHING ASHORE, LAPPING onto the grainy beach while she reverently breathed in the scent of her beloved Monterey cypress pine trees mingled with the salty ocean air. The mixture of the trees and the ocean coursed through her body, sending a chill down the length of her spine. With her laptop set up before her, she found herself wandering into an understanding that there are many spiritual paths to awakening, and now understood she needed to be wooed by love and courage.
The air was crisp at that early hour, the sun on
ly hinting of a new dawn. Smythe gently pulled the shawl wrapped around her shoulders closer to her body. She thought of love and her Beloved. God, Universe, the Divine, Source, All, Energy. So many different words to describe the indescribable—the mystery.
She once heard there is a difference in the belief of God from the one who experiences God. She sensed she was in the midst of a growing experience with her Beloved, and the All of Everything continued to beckon her closer, deeper. Her Beloved was everything to her—had always been everything to her, but for so long, she did not know how to access or expand all that the Source of Everything had become to her.
Artie watched Smythe from the kitchen window and grinned. She hesitated to interrupt her contemplation, but it was coffee time. She walked to the kitchen door and opened it, calling out through the screen door.
“Hey, baby, do you want coffee?”
“Yes, please. Could we have it out here?”
“Of course. Let me bring out a couple of sweatshirts. The Pacific air is cold this morning.”
Artie padded away and gathered two sweatshirts from the couple’s bedroom closet. She returned, handing Smythe her coffee and the sweatshirts and a wool beanie for Smythe’s head. Smythe watched as Artie appeared in the kitchen to pour herself a cup before joining her on the deck.
“What a lovely, foggy day,” Artie said as she sat down.
Smythe regarded Artie for a moment and smiled before taking a sip of her coffee. “I do love your coffee.”
Artie smiled. “You seemed deep in thought before I came out. Care to share your thoughts?”
Smythe took another sip of her coffee and breathed in the scent of pine as she watched the waves lap onto the shoreline. “It seems I was at this threshold. I was standing in this in-between place. I could feel my hand reaching out for a life I so desperately wanted, yet it rarely occurred to me that I was in the midst of living that life—living within this threshold—and actively creating the life I wanted as I went along. I had to wait. The aspects of it needed to be brought together, only I didn’t understand it then.
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