by G. R. Cody
Once inside, Robert opened the door. A portable metal staircase had already been moved into place. At the bottom stood the woman, umbrella folded and hanging from its handle from her left arm. She looked to be in her sixties or seventies. Her face was tanned and wrinkled, evidently from decades in the Florida sun, and her light grey hair peeked out from a red bonnet that was tied under her chin.
Eve gathered her bag from underneath the seat in the cabin and stepped down first, followed by Felix. When she stepped onto the slick cement floor, the lady grasped Eve’s hands.
“Eve,” she said with a quivering voice with a slight southern accent. “It is good to see you again. I’m Mary…Mary Witherspoon. I’m sure you don’t remember me. It’s been at least fifteen years since I’ve laid eyes on you. But there’s no forgetting that strawberry hair. Just like your mothers.”
Eve tried to remember her, but nothing sparked in her mind.
“Thank you for meeting us, Mrs. Witherspoon,” Eve said, and turned to Felix. “This is Felix. Felix Lieter.”
Mary released Eve’s hands and put Felix’s extended right hand in both of hers. “Welcome, Felix. Welcome. And there’s Robert,” she said looking up at the door where Robert had just emerged.
Robert bound down the stairs and, to Eve’s astonishment, hugged Mary.
”Mrs. Witherspoon!” Robert exclaimed as he pulled himself out of the hug. “It’s been ages!”
“Yes, too long,” Mary said, smiling broadly and patting Robert gently on his cheek. “And please, call me Mary. You aren’t children anymore.”
“Eve, I’m sure you don’t remember Mrs. Witherspoon do you?” Robert said, turning to Eve.
“I must admit, no,” Eve said a bit shyly.
“Mrs. Witherspoon and her husband are the caretakers of the cottages at the retreat,” Robert said.
Suddenly, Eve remembered. “Oh yes, I remember. You and your husband had that blue Wagoneer, the one with the wood paneling…”
“Still have it, actually. It’s just outside,” Mary laughed. “I’ll be driving you back in it. It will do us just fine given the weather. But it’s just me now. Olen passed; it’s been six years now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear…” Eve said solemnly.
“Don’t think on it, dear,” Mary interrupted, putting her hand up. “No way for you to know. And my grandchildren keep me busy. Two boys, one girl. They live just up the road. But let’s get going. One of those thunderstorms will be on us any minute now.”
Just then, thunder clapped, as if on cue. Mary had already shut the hangar door, and she led them out a door on the side wall, out to that very same Jeep Wagoneer that Eve had remembered from visits years ago. They all threw their bags into the back hatch. Eve climbed into the front passenger side, and Felix and Robert climbed in behind them.
“Now, let’s see if we can beat this storm back,” Mary said, pumping the accelerator a few times before turning the key. The skies had turned gray and the rain was increasing. Mary drove through a small thicket of pine and oak trees and turned on the main two lane.
“Won’t be five minutes before we’re there,” Mary said. ”You are lucky you’re here on a Tuesday. Your father’s cottage is rented for every weekend this month. The last tenant left yesterday morning, and I was able to get it tidied up this morning. So, your father says you’re over from the Caribbean, eh?”
“Yes,” Robert interjected. “Eve and Felix were looking at condos down in Puerto Rico. I had some time off and offered to fly them down and back. Eve and I mentioned Stienhatchee, and Felix said he just had to see the place.”
“Oh,” Mary said, “In the market, Mr. Lipton, is it?”
“Lieter. And yes,” Felix said without missing a beat. “I’m an avid angler, and from what Robert and Eve said of the place, I would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to at least visit. I hear the fishing here is one of the best kept secrets on the Gulf?”
“That’s true. Don’t get the really big game like the Atlantic, but the community is nice. Well, plenty of people have their cottages on the market,” Mary answered. “What with the economy the way it’s been over the past few years, some are bank owned, sad to say. You’re looking at the bottom of this market, I’ll say that. If you would like, tomorrow I can show you around to some of the ones that have been kept up.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Felix answered.
The rain had been steadily increasing, and by now it was coming down in sheets. Luckily, they had just approached the entrance to the reserve. Mary peered through the windshield and the flapping wiper blades, and pulled into a covered carport just inside the entrance.
“This is my place,” Mary said, pushing in the emergency brake. “The rest of the cottages don’t have covers, so you can come in until the rain stops. Shouldn’t be long; these summer storms don’t last.”
With that, they all exited the Wagoneer, leaving their bags in the back. The pounding of the rain on the aluminum roof above them was deafening, and as they walked in through the kitchen door, a flash of lightning and clap of thunder startled Eve.
“If you don’t mind,” Mary said once they were all in the kitchen, “take off your shoes and leave them by the door. This red clay is impossible to get out of the carpet.” They all removed their shoes and lined them up inside the kitchen door.
Mary showed them through the kitchen and into the front living room, where she invited them to sit as she hanged her coat and bonnet on a rack just inside the front door, and deposited her umbrella into a brass cylinder that looked like a large, spent artillery shell. Then, she pulled on a drawstring to open the curtains on the large front window looking out on the front yard and street beyond. The rain was coming down even harder now.
The room had a matching forest green sofa, loveseat and two chairs which, although the style was obviously decades old, looked brand new. Eve guessed that this room was reserved for company. The sofa was against the front window, the loveseat along the opposite wall, and the chairs against the wall between them. A small, oval table sat between the chairs, and in the corner was a glass-front curio cabinet with a dozen or so rosy-cheeked ceramic ballerinas, each about three inches tall, each in different poses. On the wall behind the chairs was a Norman Rockwell painting of the backs of three young boys carrying fishing poles, and behind the loveseat hung a large embroidery of dozens of birds with Asian characters in the top right corner, framed and behind glass.
Robert sat in a chair, and Felix sat on the sofa. Eve moved toward the loveseat and looked at the tapestry.
“This is amazing, Mrs. Witherspoon!” Eve whispered admiringly. “Did you do this?”
“I wish I could say I had. And please do call me Mary,” she said. “No, my husband got that in Kyoto, Japan on his way back from Vietnam. The characters say ‘100 birds.’ My grandkids are fascinated by it. Every time they are here, they count and recount, and always just get to 99. They can’t figure out the riddle. But, where are my manners,” and she turned to Felix first, “would you like something to drink? I have iced tea, milk, water. Or I have some RC Cola if you want something stronger. No coffee, I’m afraid.”
“Iced tea would be nice,” Felix responded.
“I don’t think I’ve had an RC Cola since the last time I was down here,” Robert said. “I’ll take one.”
“I’ll just have some water, Ma’am,” Eve said, and then, “But let me go with you and help, won’t you?”
“Yes, thank you dear,” Mary responded, and Eve followed her into the kitchen.
They sat and reminisced about their visits years ago, as Felix sat quietly then, after about five minutes, asked if he could make a couple of phone calls, and retired to the kitchen. After about thirty minutes, the rain had stopped, and Mary offered to drive them to the cottage due to the mud. They all put their shoes back on, huddled back into the Wagoneer, and drove a few hundred feet to the cottage on the river that Eve had not thought about in years.
Once inside, it was j
ust as Eve had remembered it. There was a large front living room, which emptied out to a two story great room with a large bay window opposite the entrance, which also led out to a patio looking down on the river. A staircase wound up along the right side of the bay window, then back toward them to the second floor, which looked back out on the great room. To the left was the kitchen and dining room, and to the right a small bedroom with its own bath. Upstairs was the master bedroom, and two smaller bedrooms where she and Sam had slept when they were little.
By now, it was six o’clock, and Mary said good night to them. Felix seemed preoccupied and intent on reconnecting with Treasury, so Eve showed Felix to the room on the first floor and showed him where the towels and toiletries were.
Once Felix had closed the door, Robert said, “I’ll call your Dad and let him know I, meaning we, are here and safe.”
“Thanks Robert,” Eve said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head upstairs to the master bedroom and lay down for a bit. I’m exhausted. You can set up in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
“Sure. I’ll stay down here and keep Felix company until you come down,” Robert said, and he walked out onto the patio. Eve climbed the stairs, threw her bag onto the bed, rummaged through it and found the cheap cell phone. Then sat on the bed and sent the text message she had been waiting desperately to be alone to send for two days now.
CHAPTER 12
The light, cool London drizzle was just strong enough for Jonathan Switzer to open his umbrella as he turned onto Duke Street, just a couple of minutes into his daily half mile walk from Bond Street station to his office on Grosvenor Square. He hadn’t even noticed that it was raining until now. His mind was still reeling with confusion and apprehension.
John Switzer had been the U.S. legate in London for the FBI for just over two years. He was the head of a small group of five operatives and four administrative staff in a small space on the basement floor of the U.S. Embassy. John’s area of expertise had become counterterrorism out of necessity, and he had been busy since he arrived. Prior to the London assignment, John had worked with the legate office in Melbourne for about four years, and before that he worked for twenty years as an FBI special officer investigating money laundering and major crimes on Native American reservations.
John stepped into True Waffle, as he did most mornings when he was ahead of schedule. He closed his umbrella, opened the door, and sat at the narrow bar just inside against the front plate glass window. He glared out the window at the Watches of Switzerland façade across Duke, but did not see it today, and he barely registering the smell of batter and chocolate that he enjoyed so much more than that of stale coffee beans that filled the air of the Starbucks around the corner.
“Good Wednesday morning, Mr. Switzer,” said a thin, young woman who smelled of maple, with her brown hair tied in a bun with what looked like chopsticks sticking out, and set a cup of black coffee on a saucer with a spoon and two sugar squares and milk caddy to the right of his hands, which were clasped together, fingers clenched.
“Oh, thank you, Jane,” said Jonathan, as if waking from a dream. “How are you this morning?”
“Good, good,” Jane responded. “And you? You seem a bit distracted today.”
“Yes, a bit, Jane,” Jonathan said, feinting a smile, “Just work, nothing major.”
“Fancy a bite this morning, sir?” Jane asked. “Just got a new shipment of pecans in from America.”
“Well, that being the case,” Jonathan said, the smile broadening a bit, “I’ll take one of those waffle boats with pecans.”
“No syrup, but cream, sir?” Jane asked with a knowing look.
“You are getting to know me too well, Jane,” Jonathan answered.
Jane returned to the counter, and John absentmindedly dropped the sugar into his coffee, stirred it, and then put a spot of milk in. His mind had immediately returned to the young agent that had not returned to London when expected, and whom he had not heard from in five days. Only his admin, Betty, was aware the agent was missing; since the agent worked off site, and since the project was outside their usual duties of counterterrorism, he had felt it better not to share the agent’s disappearance with the rest of the office. He also had not notified HQ in Washington yet; given the nature of the assignment, he was going to give it a couple more days. But the waiting, the not knowing, was preoccupying his mind. Of all the operatives under his direct command, he felt the most responsible for this one, given he had requested an extra operative for this assignment, which was well outside the norm for the office. And he had recruited this one himself.
John sipped his coffee. He enjoyed their coffee more than Starbucks. It was not as bitter. And even though the décor in True Waffle was mostly plastic and formica, at least he didn’t have to deal with waiting 10 minutes for a black coffee, or take the chance that all the seats were taken, or wade through the millennials with their ear phones and entitled attitudes. And there wasn’t any new age music playing from the ceiling, so he could hear himself think.
Jane arrived with a plate with a small, oblong waffle pastry covered with fresh pecans and whipped cream and water without ice. Jonathan picked a couple of pecans and whipped cream up with his spoon. Just then, his mobile buzzed in his jacket pocket. It was from Betty.
Relief filled him immediately as he read the text, but he needed to get to the office quickly. He put a 5 pound note under his coffee cup, grabbed his umbrella, and headed out the door. As soon as he was on the sidewalk heading down Duke Street, he pulled up Google Maps on his phone and zoomed in on Florida’s gulf coast, then texted Betty back.
“Tampa.”
CHAPTER 13
Eve turned off the cheap cell phone off and plugged it in to charge. She pulled her dirty running clothes out of her camera bag and wondered if the laundry room had soap. She went back downstairs to the small room through the kitchen, and was thankful that there was some detergent. She threw in her top, pants, bra and socks and started a small load, then went back upstairs to the master bedroom, where she saw Robert coming out of one of the rooms across the hall.
“Robert,” she said, “I’m going to take a quick shower. Also, I started a load of laundry downstairs if you want to throw your clothes in.”
“They could use it,” Robert admitted, “but I don’t have a change.”
“There should be a robe in here,” Eve said as she walked toward the small bathroom between the small bedrooms and the master. Indeed, there was a white robe hanging from the back of the door. “Yes, and there should be everything in there for a shower.”
“I think I will,” Robert said, “By the way, even though he couldn’t say so, I could tell your father was relieved, but I’m sure he’s wondering what you plan on doing…”
“Let’s not worry about that now, Robert,” Eve said, as she just wanted a shower and possibly a glass of wine. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow morning. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Okay,” Robert said in a resigned voice, and he went into the bathroom and shut the door.
After a good twenty minute hot shower, Eve wrapped her hair up in a towel and put on the robe and slippers in her bathroom and walked downstairs. As she walked down, she caught sight of both Robert and Felix, sitting in the living room talking, also wearing bathrobes, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t the three of us just look posh?” Eve exclaimed as she sat next to Robert on the couch.
“I took the liberty of opening a bottle of chardonnay that was in the fridge,” Robert said, handing Eve a glass of it, and picking his up off the side table and clinking them together.
“Well, thank you,” Eve said, and she took a sip.
Felix raised a glass to them both, and said, “Robert was kind enough to let me know about the wash. I’ve put my clothes in, and they should be ready for the dryer soon.”
Eve was feeling much more at ease now that she was in familiar surroundings, and also knowing that she would probably have an a
nswer to her text by the morning. So, she decided to press Felix on something that she had been hesitant to bring up before now.
“So, Felix, how do you know my father?”
Felix was visibly surprised by the question. It was evident in his face that he had not expected the question, but he instantly realized he should have expected it as Robert had been sent to Puerto Rico by her father.
Eve and Robert stared in silence at Felix, who composed himself and began.
“I met your father in Iraq. I was stationed there after the fall of Bagdad. I was part of the CIA team that was searching for Saddam Hussein and his sons. Since your father was in charge of heavy equipment logistics during the war, he was invaluable to us because of his intimate knowledge of the geography.”
“So, you knew who my father was all along?” Eve asked.
“Actually, I didn’t know who you were until about an hour before you arrived at Hartsfield,” Felix admitted. “I was already there on instruction by Treasury, but I received a call from an old friend at MI6 while I was there waiting for further instruction. He asked me to meet up with you. I recognized your name immediately. He had heard through Arthur what was going on in Atlanta with you, and he had me come to you.”