She placed a
finger to my mouth. Leaned forward and kissed me.
“I have to go
now.”
She placed a
folded piece of paper in my hand. “That’s my email address.” She turned and
walked through the door, into the main terminal.
Bear pushed off
the wall and walked toward me, his hand extended. I grabbed it and shook.
“Don’t know
what I’m going to do without you around, brother.”
He smiled and
wrapped his arm around me. We patted at each other’s backs for a few seconds
and then took a step back. He reached down and picked up his bag and gave me a
wink. We didn’t say another word. He turned and disappeared through the same
set of doors as Jessie.
I stood in the
middle of the walkway for five minutes, nearly every fiber of my being told me
to follow her. I didn’t, though. Instead, I returned to the rental car and left
the airport. Inside the car, I popped the CD that had the recording of Keller’s
confession into the car’s CD player. All that came through the speakers was
silence. The CD was blank. It contained no confession and no evidence. Jessie
had the laptop that held the original file. I had a feeling the track was gone.
I cursed under my breath and slammed my fists into the dashboard. I pulled the
car over onto the emergency shoulder and tried to call Bear. No answer. He had
already turned his phone off. I thought about who else to call, but came up
with no names. I had nowhere to go. In the end I decided to let it go. It didn’t
matter. I’d check in on Keller’s status, and if I wasn’t satisfied, I’d take
care of it myself one day.
I found my way
to the interstate and headed north for New York City. Bear hit up a few of his
contacts and found Abbot’s daughter using the number I swiped from his phone. I
promised him I’d look out for her, and I’d start by letting her know her father
had passed. According to Bear’s contact, no next of kin had been informed yet.
It took just
under three hours to make it to the city. I found a parking garage within a few
miles of her apartment and ditched the car. She had a place in the Village on
Bedford Street. I walked from the parking lot to her apartment building. The
air was cooler here than in D.C. Still, not too bad for six in the evening. The
sun was setting and streetlights were kicking on. I passed a coffee shop and
stopped in for a cup, partly because I needed the burst of caffeine, and partly
because I dreaded giving Clarissa the news.
I took my time
drinking the coffee and reading a few pages of the newspaper that had been left
on the table. It revealed that there was nothing new in the world. It had been
six months since the attacks on the Twin Towers. I wondered if life was truly
back to normal here in the city. I knew it wasn’t for me. I wondered if it ever
would be.
I assumed the
teams were still operating in Afghanistan. I hoped that the combined power of
the CIA and Armed Forces Spec Ops teams would bring Bin Laden and all those
involved to justice, no matter how long it took. Our involvement in Iraq
worried me. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that the work we were doing
there would lead to more conflict.
The waitress
interrupted my thoughts and asked if I’d like anything else. I smiled and told
her no. I dropped a twenty on the table and left before she brought the check.
Clarissa’s
apartment was only a few blocks from the coffee shop. Despite its close
proximity, it took me half an hour to reach it. I stood in front of the cracked
green painted door for another five minutes before knocking.
She answered
the door. Squinted at me and then smiled.
“Jack?”
It had been a
few years since I had last seen her. She was still a scrawny teen at that time.
She wasn’t much older than a teen now, if at all, but she sure as hell wasn’t
scrawny anymore. The little girl I’d met all those years ago was now a woman.
“Hey,
Clarissa,” I said.
She reached out
and hugged me.
“What are you
doing here?”
“Can I come
in?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She took a step back and pulled the door open. She waved me through and closed
and locked the door behind me. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a
drink?”
“Nah, I mean,
yeah. Something hard. Got any whiskey?”
“Sure,” she
said as she crossed the room to the kitchen.
“Can I smoke in
here?”
“Yeah, there’s
an ashtray on the table in front of you.”
I smiled. I
hadn’t noticed it. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of her since I
stepped through the door. I lit a cigarette and leaned over the coffee table. I
tried a dozen times to start the inevitable conversation while she fixed my
drink.
She returned to
the room, set the drink in front of me and took a seat across from me.
“What brings
you to New York, Jack?”
I took a drink
from the glass. The hard liquor burned down my throat and warmed my stomach.
“I don’t know
how to put this, so I’m just going to say it.”
She sat back
and crossed her arms. One hand went to her chin. Her eyes grew wide and she bit
her bottom lip.
“Your father is
dead. He was murdered.”
She gasped and
took a deep breath. Her green eyes watered and a tear slipped past the corner
of her bottom lid and traveled down her cheek.
“I killed the
man who did it. Got a confession from the man who arranged it.”
“Who? Who was
it?”
“You don’t know
the man who pulled the trigger. Martinez, a CIA asshole. But the man…” My voice
trailed off. She knew Keller. The first time I met her, Keller was there.
Keller and Abbot had been close. The man was like an uncle to her. “Keller. It
was General Keller who ordered it.”
She lifted her
eyebrows and leaned forward. The tears flowed faster.
I set my drink
down and slid off the couch. I walked over to her and dropped to my knees in
front of her. Wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. She cried and
talked, then cried some more. I held her and listened. We stayed up late into
the morning hours, drinking and smoking. By the end of the night she seemed at
peace with her father’s passing. Or maybe she was drunk enough that she’d gone
numb.
The next
morning I woke up on her couch with a slight headache. She was in the kitchen
making breakfast. I walked over and sat down at the breakfast counter.
“I’m going on a
trip for three months. But I’ve got a new cell phone and will be available if
you need anything.” I put my new phone up on the counter. It was a hell of a
phone. It connected to the internet and could even send emails. The guy that
sold it to me was completely geeked out about it. I really didn’t care, but
since I would be traveling, I figured it would be a good thing to have. Maybe
the email part would help me to reconnect with Jessie. Although, at that
moment, I was struggling to recall much about her.
Clarissa turned
and smiled.
“If you want to
tag along, you’re welcome to do so,” I said.
She laughed and
walked over to the counter and leaned into it, facing me. I had to fight back the
urge to kiss her.
“I haven’t seen
you in, what, four or five years now? And you want to walk in and sweep me off
my feet?”
I smiled and
looked away. “It’s not that. I promised your dad I’d take care of you. Watch
over you.”
“Honey, I’ve
been watching over myself for years. I’ll be OK.”
“Well, give me
your email address so I can keep up with you.”
She laughed and
snatched my phone off the counter. A minute later she set it back down in front
of me. “It’s in there now.”
Great
, I
thought.
Now I just need to figure out how to access it.
A minute later
she set a plate with two eggs and five strips of bacon in front of me. I ate it
quickly and then got to my feet. I wrote my phone number down and left it on
the middle of the counter.
“I’ll be in
touch,” I said.
She met me at
the door and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her mouth lingered there
for longer than it should have. I thought about turning my head and brushing
her lips with mine. I wanted to turn my head. In the end, I didn’t. It didn’t
feel right. Too close to her father’s death.
“See ya,” she
said as she closed the door behind me.
It turned out I
didn’t travel all that much. I took a plane to Miami, a cab across a few
bridges and found a small apartment above a bar for rent in the Keys. Two and a
half relaxing months passed in the blink of an eye. The place was above a
locals bar. At least the majority of its patrons were locals. I made a few
friends. My hair grew longer, as did my beard. It felt awkward, but I went with
it.
I kept in touch
with Clarissa. We talked or emailed once a week. She had moved on and seemed to
be doing well for herself. Her father’s life insurance policy paid nicely and
would take care of her for a while. I encouraged her to use the money to go to
college. She planned to spend it all on a two year journey through Europe.
I had emailed
Jessie soon after arriving here and asked her to join me. She only replied with
a maybe and an apology for deleting the file and not burning it to the CD. She
feared for her parents’ safety. Martinez and Keller had threatened her that day
they held her hostage. I was pissed that I had trusted her enough to handle the
CD. Should have done it myself or at least watched over the process. I told her
not to worry about it. Under the circumstances, I understood. Gave her a
deadline to come to the Keys and told her that after that point I’d be
unavailable. I don’t know if that statement had any truth to it or not, but I
couldn’t go on waiting forever.
The deadline
loomed, now just a few hours away.
I sat outside
at a table on the bar’s patio. On either side of me was an empty bistro table.
A few people joined me throughout the day. They’d stay anywhere from a couple
minutes up to an hour. It just depended on who and where the conversation went.
I stayed sober during most of the day and only started drinking around two that
afternoon. At four I didn’t feel drunk, but I certainly felt the effects of the
alcohol.
“Noble,” a
voice called through the open window just above my head.
“Yeah,” I said
without looking back or standing.
“Got a call for
you.”
I looked at my
watch. Four fifteen.
“Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“Take a
message.” I didn’t feel like talking.
My spot had a
nice view of the water. Not a full view, but decent enough. It was early June.
The sun stayed out until close to nine at night. I had every intention of
sitting there until then. I had told Jessie six p.m. But I’d wait until nine.
Or until I drank enough that I couldn’t sit upright anymore.
As the next two
hours passed, I found myself looking further and further down the street in an
effort to spot her.
“Today’s the
day, eh, Noble?”
I smiled at the
elderly couple who sat down at the table with me. Ralph had been a computer
salesman in upstate New York. He and Marcy had been married for forty years.
They left the cold a few years back for the laid-back lifestyle the Keys could
offer those with the money to afford it.
Marcy
straightened Ralph’s blue Hawaiian print button up shirt and then leaned toward
me.
“She’ll show,
Jackie.”
Most people
here simply called me Noble. For some reason, Marcy saw me as the son or
grandson she never had and insisted on calling me Jackie. I stopped protesting
after the first week. It was quite obvious she wasn’t changing her stance.
“We’ll see.”
“Don’t get his
hopes up, Marcy.”
“Thanks for the
vote of confidence, Ralph,” I said.
We talked for
half an hour about nothing in particular. They offered to pay for my drinks. I
declined and paid for theirs. It was a game of sorts, who could throw their
hands up and protest the longest and the loudest. Four times out of five, they
won. Tonight they let me take the glory.
Ralph looked
down at his watch. “Six p.m. We should go and leave you to your woman.” He
winked and helped Marcy out her chair. The couple joined hands and slipped
through the open entrance of the bar and joined the rest of the Key West crowd
who had become my family.
Six o’clock
passed, and there was no sign of Jessie. I leaned back in my seat and stared
out at the ocean. I lost myself in the crystal blue waters and sounds of locals
and tourists on the street and beach. I had dropped into such a deep zone that
I didn’t notice someone standing in front of me.
I shifted my
gaze and looked at the person. It wasn’t who I hoped it would be.
“Jack Noble.”
Not a question. The man knew me. He stood with his hands on his hips. His
jacket pushed just enough to the side that I could see the handle of his
pistol. What I didn’t see was a badge. He had to be a fed, though. Who the hell
would be in Key West dressed in a suit in the middle of June? I found myself
wishing I still carried a gun with me everywhere I went. Unfortunately, it
didn’t jive with swim trunks and a tank top.
“Do I know you,
friend?” I’d taken to calling strangers friend. Everyone down here was a friend.
I couldn’t help thinking this was the life I could have had during off seasons
and after my pro football career.
“I’ve got a
proposition for you.”
“Does it
involve handcuffs and a nine by nine cell? If so, I’m not interested.”
He laughed and
pulled out a chair. “May I?”
“Have at it.”
He sat down and
looked up at the open window. “Uh, sure, whatever he’s having.” He looked back
at me and smiled.
I looked away.
“This has
nothing to do with handcuffs or cells. I want to offer you a job.”
“Doing what?”
“Well, that’s
complicated. You see—”
“Let me save
you the time. No.” I grabbed my glass and took a sip. “I’m not interested in
working.”
“You’ve got two
weeks left until your government hand out ends.”
“Hey,” I said
as I pointed at him. “I worked hard for that money. Went three years without a
vacation. Don’t go around telling me it’s a freebie. And keep your damn voice
down.”
“Apologies, on
all counts.” He stood and took his drink from the bartender’s outstretched
hand. “Ten years or so with us and you’ll never have to worry about money
again.”
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Frank.”
I waited for
him to tell me his last name. He didn’t.
“Who do you
work for?”
“That’s
classified.”
“Not the FBI.
No badge.”
He nodded
“CIA wouldn’t
want anything to do with me.”
“Correct again.”
“NSA?”
He shook his
head.
“Then who—”
“I’ll save you
some time, Noble. The only way you’ll find out is if you join.”
I looked around
the street and didn’t notice anyone.
“What’s the job
description?”
“Professional
killer.”
I lifted an
eyebrow. He smiled. It wasn’t the smile of someone that just told a joke. He
meant business. It made sense. All my training had led to this.
“Who told you
about me?”
“I, uh, I
really can’t tell you that.”
“Marlowe.”
He shrugged.
It was Marlowe.
“I need a bit
to decide.”
“You’ve got two
minutes, Jack. After that, I leave.”
My mind started
on the
what if
game. What if Jessie showed up? What if she didn’t? I was
terrified of both. But the thing that kept pushing its way to the front of my
mind was that I wanted to join Frank and his mystery organization. I wanted to
be a part of the team. I craned my neck and looked down both sides of the
street. I didn’t see her. I knew I wouldn’t see her. Not here. Not anywhere,
never again.
“I’m in,” I
said.
Frank stood and
extended his hand. I reached up and shook it. He smiled at me for a moment and
pulled a card from his pocket. He let go of my hand and pulled a pen from
inside his jacket and wrote something down on the card.
“Two weeks,” he
said and then he turned and left.
I placed the
card on the table, then finished my drink while keeping my eyes open and aware.
I kept up hope that Jessie would show up. She didn’t. At nine p.m., after a
glorious sunset full of deep reds, oranges and pinks, I stood and grabbed the
card off the table. It took a few minutes for my drunken eyes to focus. I read
the note out loud.
“July 1st. East
64th Street and Park Avenue. Ten in the morning.” Below that line it said,
“Welcome aboard, Noble.”
THE END
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