Pisgah Road

by Mahyar A Amouzegar

  III

  I’m not sure if Fionna would want me to go to her wedding. She would have sent me an invitation if she did. She has gone her way as well, but I’m sure she will agree if Gabrielle asks her. I don’t want to be a cause of another rift between the friends, at least no more than what I must. She wants me to agree but I can’t. “I don’t think so, Gabrielle.”

  “Come on, Marty. You didn’t come to my wedding. I was hurt, you know.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’d hoped you would’ve understood. I couldn’t come back.”

  “I know, Marty. I understood why you didn’t want to come to my wedding. I accepted it, but had hoped you could have been happy for me. You didn’t come, but you were happy for me, right?”

  She was staring in my eyes holding them with her own. She wants to make sure I’d be honest. She thinks she can read my eyes. She doesn’t know me.

  “I was, Gabrielle. I wanted the best for you. I still want the best for you.”

  I still love her. I look at her so excited about getting me to come to Fionna’s wedding and so sad for my absence in her own. She is so beautiful. She’s warm and kind and her eyes sparkle like two shiny diamonds. I can close my eyes and immerse myself in her voice.

  Gabrielle doesn’t say anything. She’s believed me and perhaps it wasn’t what she wanted to hear despite her insistence. We’ve so many trapped emotions that we go from joy to melancholy in a mere second. I don’t have anything to say either.

  There is that silence again.

  The waitress shows up with our food. She has everything timed well, as if someone else has orchestrated the whole night. The invisible director sends her in every time there is an awkward silence at the table. She puts the plates down. Gabrielle had asked for a large salad, and like many Europeans she wanted it at the end of the meal. I like mine with the meal so the salad sits in-between us. It is a large green salad with chunks of tomatoes and cucumber. We had finished our drinks and the man, Stefan, who had sat us in the beginning, delivers another round. He says it’s complimentary or to put it another way, it’s twenty-five quid each. I thank him nevertheless and he feels exonerated. I take a sip from the new glass. I could already feel the alcohol in my system. I’ve a slow buzz in my head and my face feels hot. Everything feels heavy. Gabrielle looks calm and collected. She’s a good drinker.

  My steak is bloody and Gabrielle eyes it with trepidation. I offer it to her but she smiles politely without saying anything. Her plate is white: white bass with white mashed potatoes and white asparagus, though the white tapestry is broken by a streak of green designed like a fern that adorns the edge of her plate. There’s no such effort on my plate. It contains what it should, meat and mashed potatoes on a white plate.

  Our last words are still hanging between us, urging each of us to take the initiative to do something with it. I take the knife and cut a piece of meat. Blood drips slowly from the cut, as if it were a wounded animal. I take a bite. It is soft and well textured and I relish the metallic taste of the blood. Each of us had come close to opening up the old wounds, but each had stopped at the precipice of crossing over. I’m not brave enough to take the mantel. At the moment, I’m satisfied to simply chew the piece of meat in my mouth. It is clear that the burden is on Gabrielle.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I

  Gabrielle doesn’t want the burden either so we occupy ourselves with other, less emotional, conversations for the rest of the meal. There are plans for tomorrow. The conversation about Fionna’s wedding can wait.

  Gabrielle says, “I’m sorry, Marty, but I must see my parents tomorrow and probably John’s too.”

  “Of course. I’m sure they’re not very happy that you’re staying in a hotel.”

  I’m wondering if Gabrielle has told them about my visit. I don’t think they’d care either way but I’m sure they’d find it odd that she is meeting me in London and not even staying in their house. It’s not something that can be explained to them. Moreover, they like John. They always did. He fits well with Gabrielle’s mother and her world. They liked Daniel as well but more as a go-to guy than a potential son-in-law. Luckily her parents have moved from central London to the suburbs so there is the excuse of distance.

  “I sort of lied and said it’s a business trip. They aren’t very happy though.”

  “Do they know I’m here?” I think I know the answer, but I wanted to see how big of a liar I have made her.

  Gabrielle shakes her head and smiles nervously. “You’re gonna hate me, Marty, but I wasn’t sure if they’d understand.”

  “You’re right, they wouldn’t. You did the right thing.”

  She’s happy with my answer and I think I have scored a point with her. It is strange how desperately Gabrielle and I are seeking each other’s approval.

  “Thanks, Marty. I knew you’d understand. I’m hoping to meet all of them for lunch.”

  I nod approvingly. I always liked her parents. They are very gentle like their daughter and they were always welcoming. I would love to see them again but Gabrielle is right, they wouldn’t understand. It’s rather childish but I feel seeing them would be comforting to me. I might accept Gabrielle’s invitation to Fionna’s wedding after all. That is if she asks me again. I’d want to see Gabrielle’s parents. I want to see how a real family looks like again so I won’t forget that I used to have one of my own.

  We finish our meal and the waitress shows up with a dessert menu. Gabrielle looks at the menu carelessly and pushes it back on the table. “Let’s go somewhere else for coffee.”

  I’m ready to leave. I want to walk for a bit. The waitress brings the check and puts it on my side of the table. Traditions don’t die easily. Gabrielle takes out her wallet but I shake my head. “Come on, Marty.” I don’t even look at her. I take out a couple of large bills and put them on the table.

  “Keep the change,” I say and the waitress brightens up.

  “It’s none of my business, Marty, but you’re being too ostentatious,” Gabrielle tells me as we leave the restaurant. She has been repeating my name, my fake name. Does she even remember my real name? And perhaps more importantly, do I? I don’t want to deal with that existentialist question right now. I can’t think straight anyway.

  “I don’t mean to, but I must. I guess…” I trail off not seeing any reason to explain this again. There isn’t much to explain anyway.

  She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t understand but she doesn’t want to meddle either. I’m sure she wants a logical, rational answer but there is none. She thinks this is my way of dealing with my grief and she is probably right. I feel I owe it to my parents. I’ve never done such a thing, but I’m enjoying this moment of small wealth.

  We get up to leave and Stefan says goodbye. Gabrielle responds in kind, but I simply nod. I can’t afford this restaurant so this is my first and last visit.

  II

  I took ten days off after my mother died. They told me to take as much time as I needed. Don’t believe it when your boss tells you this. I took ten days off. I was back and several of my projects were given to others. That’s the nature of the job. I took only three days off after my father decided not to wake up. That’s when I decided to go to London for two days. I had to fill out a two-page form, the International Travel and Contact with Foreign Nationals Authorization. We simply call it form 10-B. I took my form 10-B to the weekly meeting. That’s where we share. We say it’s sharing time so our boring meetings sound cool. It only sounds cool to us. It’s like any other business meeting with the boss talking most of the time and we, the employees, simply reporting to him in our best attempt at acting professional. It’s a stressful job and there is always a high chance of failure with serious consequences, so we try to act and look mellow to prove to ourselves that we can handle it. In truth, not many do and very few last more than a few years. I have been there for more than ten years, so I guess I can handle stress. Or, as I’m told over and over again, my particular job isn’t as stressf
ul as others. I say the same thing to everybody else.

  I took my form 10-B to the meeting so I could get it signed afterward. It’s a large meeting room with no windows, like the rest of the offices. It’s tucked in the back of the classified library where documents, files and videos are kept. This one is a nice conference room with leather seats and a mahogany table. It’s often booked so we were happy to be able to use it. Its only downside is that we are not allowed to bring in any outside food or drink and we are too low level to have anything catered for us.

  Bobby, a colleague, started first. He had a new plan. He needed a good one after the fiasco six months earlier. Bobby is from another section. His cover job is marketing director at a software company named Tech Law. They cater to attorneys. The company is real and produces interesting, though in my opinion, useless software. They actually sell the software to law offices. Tech Law is owned by the agency. I have not been told if the software has other functions besides what is advertised publicly, but I can guess. We only use first names in these multi-section meetings. The less we know about each other the better. We don’t all have the same cover story.

  III

  “Do you mind if we walk a bit?” I ask Gabrielle as we step out of the restaurant.

  The night is cooler and there are some clouds in the sky though I could see a couple of stars peeking out. Gabrielle nods and we start to walk. We walk slowly. My head feels heavy and leans to the side. It feels like walking through molasses, every stride a challenge. We navigate the dark, narrow street towards the Battersea Bridge. This is an older part of the town and many of the buildings have kept the melancholy feel of nineteenth-century London. We reach the bridge and we are the only people on it. There are no people or cars and I’m sure if it were any other night we would run in the middle of the road. But tonight we simply walk slowly like two sober adults. We are walking side by side but we keep our distance. I want to hold her hand, but I don’t believe she would welcome it. We don’t say much and when we speak we reminisce about school.

  We’re in the middle of the bridge and I stop to look at the river. A car passes behind us slowly with a steady drone and then there is silence in a city of millions. She leans over the edge. The water is moving slowly, glistening under the lights. I kissed Cybil at this same spot. It was raining then, but it’s definitely not tonight.

  I join Gabrielle by leaning over the railing too. We’re both staring at the slow moving dark water below us. It had not occurred to me until now, but I know why I felt compelled to keep the fifty dollar note; the brown curved lines on it reminded me of the River Thames, a slow moving body of water. I look at the water and, even though in the dark of the night the water looks black, it’s still the same. It feels the same. In fact, everything looks the same as before, the concrete embankment, the pile of garbage on the small sandy beach and the old fashioned light posts on the bridge. Everything is the same, except us.

  “Don’t you miss London?” I ask.

  Gabrielle looks over and stares at me as if more surprised by my presence than the question. She thinks for a moment. “No.” And then, “Yes.”

  I nod. I know what she means. I didn’t miss London for almost ten years, but now standing on the Battersea Bridge I miss it more than ever. My mother was right, the city made me.

  She stares back at the slow moving river and I stare at her. There is no reason to keep eye contact now. “It’s not the same, Marty. It’ll never be the same. But, of course I miss London. We’ll come back eventually but for now John has a good job. I think I like my job too.”

  I nod again and she responds without prompting. “We are happy, Marty. I’m happy. It’s not perfect, of course, but there is no such thing. You can never have perfection.” She takes a deep breath. “You can’t have the life you planned. That’s how it is. You have to deal with what life serves you. That’s what being an adult means.”

  I look down at the river again. It is still moving. It always moves. It doesn’t stop to savor the city. She’s right, of course. More often than not, we react to what’s offered. She’s happy and that’s good. I only have twenty-four hours to finish my job. You shouldn’t mix grief, nostalgia, and espionage in one short trip. It’s confusing. I should concentrate on my day with Gabrielle and delay the job. There is Fionna’s wedding, but there is no guarantee I would have access to her computer. I know Gabrielle brought hers over. She told me she would. That is, I sort of teased it out of her.

  I tell her, “I know what you mean, Gabrielle. My father did it, didn’t he? He chose not to live. That was his adult response.”

  Gabrielle turns around and faces me, but I continue to stare at the slow moving river. I hate myself for being bitter.

  She says, “Oh, Marty. You must feel miserable but don’t blame your dad. He must have loved your mother so much that he didn’t want to live without her. He didn’t want to be defeated by life.”

  “Yeah, that was a true act of heroism.”

  Gabrielle takes a step forward and holds me from behind. I’m still leaning on the railing so she puts her head on my back and whispers something. Although I don’t hear her clearly, I feel the vibration of her sympathy through my back. She lets go of me and we’re remote again. I have never felt so lonely in my life as I do now.

  IV

  Six months ago Bobby’s boss had devised a plan to penetrate a German firm. I don’t want to identify the company, but it’s a well-known multi-national. We try not to target private companies but we do what we must. His plan failed and he is no longer with us, so no need to reveal his name either.

  The newspapers thought it was a computer worm. At the time, it was a big deal. It was blamed on some random teenagers in Belgium. They were never caught, as they didn’t really exist. The German government became suspicious and they had a good talk with our ambassador. The State Department had no idea about our role, so they were emphatic in their assurance to the German government. The Secretary of State was suspicious and very unhappy to be in the middle. The blame was shifted downward at each step. It landed very close to us, but it stayed outside of our doors. It didn’t save Bobby’s boss though. The targeted company put forth more effort to protect itself, still thinking it was a regular hacker. They created double firewalls and a decentralized computer network. We know our target, but not the extent of his involvement. We have to keep the Germans in the dark. We have to keep the State Department in the dark, as well. It is easier for them to deny if they believe it.

  Bobby’s plan was simple: use a mule with many degrees of separation from the target in the company to tunnel to the target. We deal with computers, but we like the idea of using non-technical terminology. The idea was to find a person with a computer, in a less protected network, attach a worm remotely that can move from one network to the next, collect the information and then return back to the original unprotected computer and send the information back to us. It is not too dissimilar to the original failed plan, but this time he assures everyone that they have learned to erase their footprint. Bobby thinks we can go in and get the info without a single trace. The trick is to get access to one of the company’s computers directly and not through the network.

  Bobby had selected several names in departments with easier chances of penetration. He wanted several agents to follow them for several weeks and then break into their homes and plant the first seed. I saw Gabrielle and Fionna’s names on his list. I already knew they worked in that company, but the earlier plan didn’t involve them. Now it might. No matter how well we did it, there was a chance, a small chance, the company might detect some anomalies and trace it back to the original computer. In that case, the owner of the computer would be blamed for being careless at best, but at worst for being involved in industrial espionage. I offered an alternative and offered to take the lead.

  They all protested, given my lack of field experience.

  “I know two of the people on the list.” I wasn’t sure why I divulged such information, but
then I told myself that I had no choice. I was going to London to see Gabrielle and she was a potential target. They would figure out my connection with her sooner or later. Moreover, I wanted to do this job. I was sure I could be successful and I didn’t have the same trust in others.

  “What?” my boss asked with the tone that said I was in trouble no matter what.

  “I know Gabrielle Desidéria and Fionna Blake.”

  “How?” Bobby asked but before I could say anything my boss chimed in with a more important question.

  “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” His calm tone belied the trouble I was in.

  “I was not the lead so I didn’t pay attention to the names,” I lied, at least about the second part of it.

  I thought he would press the point but he seemed to see the advantage of having such an in, and allowed a smile to form on his face before asking, “How well do you know them?”

  I was tempted to lie again, but I knew I had already raised a red flag and there was no need to make it more difficult. “I used to go to school with them and I’m going to see one of them in London.”

  He looked at me for a moment as if he was weighing my resolve. No one moved or said anything. Another moment passed but then he said, “Okay, you have the lead, but be aware that your earlier infraction has been duly noted.”

  Now I must really succeed.

  It was difficult but I was confident in my team’s ability. I was going to see Gabrielle, anyway. I don’t really believe in fate but there it was, fully present in that meeting.