2 A Month of Mondays (3 page)

Hallie corrected their path and
they picked up pace as they sailed back out toward Ellis Island. Boats dotted
the river. Then Jake saw a green light signal from a large white yacht ahead of
them.

“We’re almost home, Monday. Just
hold on, tuck and roll.”  He didn’t argue.

Hallie aimed left of the yacht and
swung wide, coming up behind it slowly. Jake could see a contingent of men and
women along the fore deck, dark glasses and Kevlar vests even in the sweltering
sun. Before they touched down, Hallie reached around him and released the
tether at his waist. The deck came up to meet him quickly, then, and two men
dove for them, releasing a padded tarp ahead of their landing.

Despite the padding, Jake smashed
his forearm as he landed. He ripped his jacket even more. He had released the
cross braces before landing and he could see Hallie float above him, her bare
feet slapping the deck and the chute gathering about her. Several agents
hustled to her side, grabbing the fabric before a wind whipped across the river
and ripped her back across the bow.

Jake stood. His arm was bruised
and lacerated, but otherwise he was completely healthy. He was surprised to see
three agents with their firearms trained at his chest.

“Nice to meet you, gents.”  He
tried his most disarming smile.

“He’s with us. Put your weapons
down!”  Hallie limped over to his side.

“You alright?”

“I chipped a nail, but yeah.”  She
was flushed, her hair wind-blown, her cheeks red from exertion. The pits of her
red silk blouse were stained with sweat, her heirloom necklace was flipped
backwards on her neck and a playful smile played across her face.

“Here I thought you chewed your
nails.”

“Only since I met you.”

Jake took it all in. He was alive
and even through the haze of the last half hour he had a clarity he hadn’t felt
in a long time.

“A family, huh?”

“Yep. You. Me. Macy,” she smiled,
but her eyes were sad. She was disappointed. He wanted to hold her. He needed
to remember where he came from.

“It’s all coming back to me now,”
he said.

Vertigo

The whine of the jet engine was muffled. The cabin pressure
was perfect. The temperature was perfect. Yet, Eilif was uncomfortable. He had
never felt fear in his life.

He wished Giselle had stayed behind. She was braver than he
was. She was fearless. Instead, she sat across from him filling her own fluted
champagne glass. The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. It was just the two of them
and a pilot. They needed as much secrecy as possible.

“It bothers me that we don’t know his name,” Giselle
confessed.

“His name is inconsequential. It is the power he wields that
matters.”

“Names hold power, Father.”

He thought about that for moment. What she said was certainly
true. The Rockefellers, Kennedys, Fords, and Gettys were great examples of
names holding power.

“We have committed. We are in this now and we cannot turn
back. Our positions are secured. It will be good to return home,” Eilif said. The
simple confession made him feel better. Focusing on the future was the best way
for him to get by the fear he felt for failure.

Giselle shook her head. He could tell she was disappointed
and remained unconvinced.

“His bold plan has holes in it. Too much of it depends on
people who do not understand their own role.”

“That is the part that I have the most confidence in working.
It has been my experience that many of my best allies were enemies who acted
predictably,” Eilif said. He badly wanted to smoke a cigar. They had failed to
provide any on the flight. He had some waiting on him when he landed. He
glanced at his watch again. He caught himself, knowing it was Giselle’s pet
peeve.

“I have your completely undivided attention for five more
hours, Father. Hang in there for little longer.”

He looked at her. He could understand why she was so good at
her job. She was ruthless, brilliant, and exquisite. It was a deadly
combination.  

“So you have reservations about our arrangement?”

“Only concerns that we are biting off more than we can chew.
If we have influence over two political parties in America, have agents within
several European governments, and are constantly controlling Third World
countries, why do we need to form our own government?  Besides, we are close to
taking over Galbraith from within. With the largest terrorist service provider
on our payroll and our various forms of control over large and small countries
globally, why do we need to have a revolution?  Don’t we already own them?”

Eilif shrugged.

“Your assessment assumes much. Influence is not direct power.
We are thwarted all the time. We are betrayed. Money does not solve every
problem.”

“This is why we have Galbraith and our terrorist
organizations in France, Ireland, and Pakistan.”

Eilif waved her off.

“A small army. Arm twisting. Improvised explosives. In
baseball jargon, they call that ‘small ball.’  I hate small ball. I want
results. Lasting results. Our friend in France has the key to those results.”

Giselle looked out the window of the luxury jet at the
bright sky. The sun glowed on her porcelain face. Eilif was reminded again how
much she resembled her mother.

“Does it bother you that Clarence arranged our meeting with
‘our friend’?”

He grunted and ate a grape from the plate beside him.

“I am always surprised at the connections Clarence has.”

“Surprised?  The man is dangerous,” she said. She turned and
watched him. He could understand her anger. She imagined that they shared the
same feeling that control was slowly being pulled from their grasp. Clarence
would be an apt target for her resentment.

“Clarence is our ally. My employee. Put yourself at ease,
Giselle.”  He put another grape in his mouth, squishing the skin between the
roof of his mouth and his tongue, feeling the flesh slide down his throat.

Giselle laughed quietly.

“Clarence is as much your employee as I am, Father. He works
for you, that is true. For how long, though?  When will it be convenient to
change sides?  Or has he really been on our side all along?  We know most of
the players in this drama. We only truly know our own agenda.”

“Now you sound paranoid, Giselle.”

She smirked.

“Paranoia will keep you alive, father. Sinegem has taught me
that.”

He looked at her wistfully. She had brought up her employer,
the company of which he was a thirty percent owner. He measured his words
before he spoke. He wanted to sting her a bit to see how she would react. He
had always wanted to keep his children thinking analytically.

“Has Sinegem also taught you to fall in love with
assassins?”  He knew he was taking a shot in the dark. He also knew his
daughter well enough to know that any other man who had spent two days on a
yacht with her under the circumstances would not have survived the encounter.

She squinted and locked his eyes with a stare he recognized.
He had not seen her that defensive since she decided she wanted to attend
college in the United States.

“If you are speaking of Mr. Monday, let me stop you Father. Mr.
Monday and I have a mutual respect. He has refused my advances multiple times. I
cannot love a man who cannot respond to my wiles.”

Eilif snickered.

“You also cannot resist such a man,” he quipped.

“What do you mean?”  Eilif could hear the hurt in her voice.
He knew he had struck a chord.

He shrugged.

“I am merely saying that you cannot resist a man who can
resist you. You are a conqueror, Giselle. You see such an affront as a
challenge. I cannot foresee you merely giving up.”

She furrowed her brow.

“I will not be mocked, Father. I am not pursuing a lost
cause.”

“We are not talking about pursuit, Giselle. We are
discussing conquest, winning. I mean you will either have him or kill him. Those
are the only options for Mr. Monday.”

She looked at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

“You are saying that I should have already killed him.”

He smirked. She could read his mind.

“You certainly are not going to win him.”

She sipped the champagne, her eyebrows raised. He could tell
he had planted a seed.

Put Me in Coach

Jake sat on a leather couch, his hands on his knees. He
stared out the window to the sun setting in the west. The US Secret Service New
York field office was located in Brooklyn. Jake was doing his best to remember.
So many details were fuzzy. In truth, he could not remember this place.

Since the incident at Galbraith, he had been moved around
the city via tunnels, armored cars, and had crossed the Brooklyn Bridge two
hours ago in the company of a squad of the New York Police force and several
officers from the Port Authority.

Now, he sat in the empty office with his wife. He still
could not wrap his mind around that relationship, either. With her help he
tried to dredge up memories of her.

“We live in a house where my grandfather used to live in
Bronxville,” Hallie said. Her voice sounded hopeful.

He and Hallie had been waiting on Kyle Evers, Special Agent
in Charge of the field office for twenty minutes. Jake reached up and
straightened his tie and glanced over at Hallie.

A stranger. Yeah, a beautiful stranger, but he struggled
with the implication that he could be married. Implication. Truth, probably. But
what did that mean?  What did this all say about him?

“I tried to kill the President,” He said, his voice dead.

Hallie stared out the window as well. She bit her lip.

Jake shook his head.

“I thought you said it was all coming back,” Hallie said,
accusingly.

He sighed.

“The truth is, I want to remember,” he said, getting her
attention. She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. “This reality seems
preferable to the lie I was living.”

She nodded and smiled.

“Am I a good husband?”  He did not know why this mattered to
him.

“When you are home, yes. And a great father. Macy misses you.
I have been lying to her for the past two years.”

“Two years,” Jake said. It came out as a harsh whisper. He
took a deep breath and returned to looking at the carpet.

“Evers will fill you in on all we know about you since you
went dark,” Hallie said. He could tell she was doing her best to be supportive.
He knew that she needed him to be fulfilling that role. He should remember her.
How could he forget?

“I don’t remember my parents.”

Hallie hesitated. Her chin dipped.

“I know.”

“I killed a lot of people. How can I be an agent who
protects?”  There it was. His disbelief in a nutshell. If someone could answer
that riddle, then maybe he could put off his doubts.

Hallie put her hand on his leg. It was warm. He looked into
her hazel eyes so full of pity. He did not want pity, he wanted answers.

“Tell me how I ended up at Galbraith in the first place,” he
demanded. Suddenly, he was angry and he was ashamed of it. Regardless, it was
there, seething and raw.

Hallie looked defensive.

“Evers will tell you…”

“I need you to tell me now,” he said. He chastised himself
as he said it. He realized she did not deserve this. She deserved more from him.
She deserved better than him.

He saw the hurt in her eyes. He also saw her determination
and her resolve.

“Originally, you were investigating a counterfeiting
operation they were protecting in Alabama. When we were transferred here, you
went to Kyle Evers with a proposal to infiltrate Galbraith.”

“Why would I do that and why would the Service care?”

She shrugged.

“You are impetuous and convincing. It sounded like an ideal
way to get inside information for both protective services for our allies and a
way to crack the counterfeiting ring,” she said. She shook her head and her hair
fell around her neck.

Jake realized with a jolt that he recognized her tone of
voice. He accepted the heat of her logic and the sting of her words. That all
felt familiar to him. Was that what being married felt like?

“Two years ago we had no idea of the scope of their
organization or their goals,” she continued. “At first, the information you
were able to leak us was instrumental in assisting our efforts to protect our
interests in China and Russia. We were getting close to earning their trust. Other
agencies were coming to us to mine the information we had. Of course, the
Service kept everything as clandestine as they could manage...”

“Then what happened?”  He asked.

“We do not know. You went dark. We had correspondence with
the FBI, the Department for Homeland Security, the NSA, and the CIA. No one had
heard from you. Then you started turning up as a suspect in assassinations,
murders, and information leaks. You had never changed your name. Everyone knows
who you are.”

Jake smiled ironically.

“I’m a regular celebrity, huh?”

“Infamous. But that was part of the problem, too. The other
agencies, once they found out what we were doing, started to try to make their
own infiltrations into Galbraith to mine information. We suspect that some of
the cells there were also affecting Galbraith policies and setting targets.”

Jake felt his anger well up. He realized that the feeling
that he was being used was accurate. He was a chess piece. He was the Bishop,
after all, instead of the Knight. His purpose was at a cross purpose to his
real self. He could not help but feel resentment.

“The CIA is known for its meddling.”

Hallie nodded.

“Look. We can speculate, but you really need to brief with
Kyle. I can lose my job…”

“I thought we are married. Can we not discuss it?”

Hallie shrugged.

“It is a grey area, but Kyle is a strong proponent of
keeping things close to the vest.”

“I see,” he said. “We better not take any chances, then.”

Hallie stood up. She smoothed out her wool skirt. Her thighs
were rock hard, he noticed.

“Look, Jake. I need to get back home to Macy. I suspect that
Evers will have you in conference until late. I will get dinner ready and…”

“I don’t remember how to get home,” he said. He was not
panicked, but the truth of his real life seemed to be a great weight upon his
shoulders. He was having a more difficult time coming to grips with the truth
of his life than with the lie.

She smiled.

“Tom Vickers is sticking around. He lives west of us over in
Yonkers. He has agreed to bring you home,” Hallie said.

He nodded. He tried to swallow his fear.

“I will be fine,” he said, as much to himself as to Hallie. He
could tell she needed to leave. Perhaps she had a different expectation of how
this reunion would look.

“We will be fine,” she said, grasping his hand.

“Thanks for saving me, Hallie,” he said. This was truly
sincere. Without her, he would have been dead. He would never have been
prepared for the security team. He would never have expected to have a
counter-assassin slide a blade between his ribs.

“I will do it again,” she said.

“I am sure you will have plenty of opportunities. Are you
sure you don’t want to save me from Evers?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“No. You will have to be a big boy and face him on your own.
He doesn’t bite, Jake. Be honest. And don’t be so spiteful with him. He isn’t
as understanding as I am,” she counseled.

He nodded, thoughtfully.

“I will take that under advisement. I am testy.”

Hallie cocked her head.

“Just remember you are Jake Monday. You always have been.”

“Easy for you to say.”

She winked at him and turned to go. Soon, she was whisked
away by the elevators and Jake was alone.

He sat there for another dozen minutes. He wished they had
not taken his cell phone. He needed something to do. Check some emails. Browse
the internet. Look at his calendar.
Solve a Sudoku puzzle.

He heard a door at the end of the hall open.

“Come on in,” he heard Kyle Evers say.

Until Jake stood and turned down the hall, all he could see
were Kyle’s scuffed Steve Madden loafers and his thin arm, the cuff of his blue
dress shirt rolled up to the elbow. Evidently, regular working hours were over.
Without his phone, all Jake could do was guess that it was past dinner. That
presumption was mainly because of the dull emptiness he felt in his stomach.

  Jake followed him. Kyle turned after entering the office,
holding the door with one hand and putting a reassuring hand on Jake’s
shoulder.

“Nice to have you back in the fold, Jake,” he said.

Kyle was maybe a decade older than Jake, his hair thinning
on top, his dress slightly sloppy. Worry lines at his mouth and eyes were
indications to Jake that the New York field office assignment had led Kyle to
long hours and plenty of stress.

From what Jake understood--because he couldn’t remember—the
New York office would be in the middle of both of the roles that the Secret
Service performed. Not only was the proximity to the stock exchanges and
banking important in their role as investigating counterfeit operations, but
the regular meetings of diplomats, like the G20 Summit or the United Nations
General Assembly, would require Evers’ office to handle the impossible task of
protecting hundreds of diplomats, ambassadors, and other “highs.”

“Thank you, Kyle,” he replied. Jake felt a strange sense of
belonging. He gazed at the office, knowing that this all should feel familiar. It
did not, but the sense that he was welcome persisted.

“Have a seat,” Kyle walked behind the desk. It was
immaculately cluttered. Stacks of paper and an array of electronic equipment
were placed strategically and purposefully. Jake imagined that Kyle even folded
his underwear and put them in a dresser drawer.

As Jake sat in the standard issue cloth office chair, he
placed his hands on the edge of Kyle’s desk. It was lacquered heavily and felt
cold.

“If I am who Hallie says I am, why did I just try to kill
the President?”  Jake blurted. He wanted to be put at ease. He desperately
wanted to know the answer to this soul-wrenching question.

Kyle turned serious. Jake watched as he turned the ring on
his finger subconsciously.

“Jake, I cannot answer that. Not the way you want. We
believe that you were not aware of what you were doing.  You have no motive.  I
can
say you have been submitted to numerous mind-manipulating techniques
and drugs.”

“Drugs and brain washing cannot explain it. My morals would
not allow me to do it.”

Kyle smiled.

“That is exactly it, Jake. See, you didn’t do it. Your
morals would not allow you to do it.”

Jake shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Agent Evers.”

“Please, call me Kyle. Jake. What you went through was
traumatic. Only a handful of agents would have survived what you endured.”

“The brainwashing?”

“Not just the fact that they altered your memories, Jake. We
have information that leads us to believe that you may have been exposed to as
many as three separate mild-altering programs.”

“Three?  But why.”

“We cannot say at this time. One was Galbraith, obviously. The
other was a partner Homeland Agency, and the third is only a speculation. It is
the third one we are worried most about because we know the least.”

“The CIA, then?”

Kyle fluttered his eyes and sighed.

“I guess it isn’t a secret that we have a rocky relationship
with them. They want us to spy on foreign diplomats and ambassadors that we are
protecting during the summits. We refuse. Plus, in the line of our protection,
we have to recognize when a potential threat is really our cousins in the CIA
just doing their job. You know how poor our communication can be.”

“I don’t, but I will take your word for it.”

Kyle shook his head.

“You really don’t remember working here?”

Jake looked around the room. He had witnessed a veritable
soup of faces, people who shook his hand like they had known him, who addressed
him and gave him well wishes. Everyone seemed genuine. He was welcome, but he
felt separate as well. It was like he was living someone else’s life.

“No. I don’t,” he said bluntly.

“Jake, we have the best doctors in the world available to us.
One of our psychologists is on call in case of emergency during our NSSE’s. I
will give her a call in the morning and set up a time for you to meet her. Dr.
Vrabek’s offices are in Manhattan. I am sure she could arrange to come over as
early as Wednesday.”

“What’s an NSSE?”

Kyle chuckled.

“I forgot you may not remember our lingo. It stands for
National Special Security Event.”

Jake nodded.

“So, this third entity, the mystery agency, is a rogue
outfit?”

“Yes. From our investigations, we have found that someone
has influence inside Galbraith. We suspect that they are one of their clients.”

“That makes sense,” Jake replied.

“Tell me what you know.”

Jake fidgeted in the seat.

“My memory is foggy. I am not a reliable source. But, for
the past few months, it seems that some of Galbraith’s clients have been at
each other’s throats or there has been internal strife.”

“You can’t point fingers?  Names, speculations?”

Jake shook his head.

“I am sorry. I can’t get past the idea that I was going to
kill the President. Then, there is the woman who had handed me a silver locket
on a thin chain. She died there in Atlanta. I think she was there to save me. Was
her name Camilla?”

Kyle seemed shocked.

“You didn’t recognize her?”

“Well, I remember I had met her on a plane ride to Los
Angeles on New Year’s Day. Other than the fact that she had twisted her ankle
and it swelled up to the size of a soft ball, I don’t know why she would have
been in Atlanta. I don’t know why she would give me a locket.”

Kyle nodded.

“Her name was Camilla Cross. She was a CIA agent. We had
been working with her to keep tabs on you. She was assigned to Galbraith after
The Farm had connected them to the murder of a Chinese diplomat.”