by G J Stevens
“When they were loading dry wall into the house,” she said.
I interrupted again. “What’s dry wall?”
She grinned and shook her head. “They make new walls with it. I think it’s plaster.”
“Oh, plasterboard. Got you,” I replied, nodding.
“He was asking so many questions.”
“Nosey bastard.”
“Yeah. Keep an eye on him. I wouldn’t put it past him to have a camera in your room,” she said.
I shook off the shiver as it ran down my spine.
“Or in your bathroom.”
“Don’t say that. Oh my god.”
“But I guess you can’t blame him,” she said, looking me up and down.
“Stop it. I won’t be able to sleep now.”
“Don’t worry, you can sleep with me from now on,” she said, and we both gave a hollow laugh as we turned back to our drinks.
After another five or six rounds, I can’t remember the exact count, the talk had grown louder and left us breathless with laughter.
“I’m really sorry about tonight,” she said, her bare leg touching against mine as if she was trying to get closer. “I hope it hasn’t put you off trying again?”
I paused, filling the moment with a large swallow of bright-coloured liquid.
“Of course not. My life is frustration.”
She grinned. “You better stay at mine tonight. The Rozman’s aren’t expecting you back.”
I smiled with a shallow nod so the room wouldn’t spin too much.
The car had been waiting outside all the while and the journey home flashed by as we continued to chat about so much of nothing. In a rare pause for breath I couldn’t help reflecting on what had been a great night, a great day..
I’d handled a gun, something I’d been used to doing daily for so long. I flexed my instincts, although not by choice. I had great company and I wasn’t unhappy about the attention I’d been getting in my nearly not-there clothes. So many times I’d nearly forgotten I was working, reminding myself to focus and keep control, then Ally would say something funny and I’d forget myself again.
Arriving back, the houses were in darkness. The driver waited until we were through the door, then with bottles of water we were straight up to her room.
“I’ll need to borrow something again. We left our bags at the hotel,” I said. “Or do I?” I added, pulling off the top to reveal the thin silk bra.
She blew out a deep breath and smiled back, handing me a nightie from the dresser and grabbing her own before heading out of the door.
I’d changed by the time she’d arrived back in her nightie. “Have you gone all shy on me?” I said, covering my mouth as the words slurred.
“Of course not,” she said, stepping close, cupping her hand on my cheek. “I just don’t want to spoil the surprise when we finally get the night.”
I let my smile turn to a grin and I headed to the bathroom, soon returning to find her wrapped up in the covers, the main light off, the lamp at her bedside providing the warm glow.
As I pulled myself under the covers, she turned and killed the light. Facing her I listened to her breath as she drew closer.
Her lips touched mine then lingered as I felt a slight moan leave my lips and our mouths opened. She drew away, pecking me on the forehead.
“Not here. Not tonight,” she said and turned over.
I pulled a deep breath and turned in the bed, letting my thoughts wander until I drifted off.
21
With the morning came a bright light stinging the back of my eyes. I pulled myself up in the bed with care to find Ally fast asleep with her mouth wide open and giving a view of her perfect molars. She stirred as I moved, her eyes peeking open and mouth closing to a grin.
“Morning,” she said in a sleep-weary voice.
“Morning,” I replied, mine not much different. “I’m heading back over. I can’t face the family.”
“I understand. I’ll catch you later for a walk.”
I nodded and bundled my insubstantial pile of clothes in my arms.
“Shit. My coat’s back at the hotel.”
“Open the wardrobe, borrow whatever you want. I won’t watch,” she said, and I caught a grin on her face as she turned the other way. “I’ll drop your things off later.”
Within a few minutes, in borrowed sweats, I was back at fifty-four. After a few moments more, I’d showered and changed into my own clothes, my things from the night before, including my underwear, in the wash before the house stirred. The white lace hung to dry in my room, not on display on the washing line outside with the other things I’d pegged out with the tiny dog nipping at my ankles.
Everyone in the house seemed in a good mood as they rose to the breakfast table I’d laid out, giving them a bonus as they hadn’t expected me home so early. Despite Lenart’s smile, he couldn’t help but grill me about what happened last night and what had prompted my early return.
I told him very little, the time in the bar was the only part where I gave him any detail.
As I answered his questions, I couldn’t help but think of what Ally had said; not only his questions about next door, I could understand those, but the suggestion of cameras in the room where I would often be naked. I gave a sudden shudder at the thought, but had to dismiss it. I needed to spend my day off figuring out how the hell I could properly use our next meeting, knowing I wouldn’t have much time to prepare and wouldn’t know the venue.
At least I knew it wouldn’t be at the house and unlikely the same hotel. Could I use the promise of my virginity and the three of us playing together as a way of getting information about that room?
“Catarina,” I heard Lenart say, rushing back from the place I’d drifted to in my mind; day dreaming was not something I would ever do.
“Sorry, I was in another world.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he said. I let his voice trail off again as he droned on about how I should clean the bathrooms a different way. When he finished speaking, I stood from the table and excused myself, watching as his face widened with alarm.
“What about the breakfast things?” he said, his voice building to a bluster.
“It’s my day off,” I said, my gaze catching the start of Celina’s grin.
I spent the next few hours back in bed, dozing in and out of sleep, only half paying any attention to the hushed arguments between Celina and Lenart, punctuated with the occasional stomp of the children’s feet up and down the stairs, followed by scrapes and clicks of the dog’s excited chase.
The rest of my waking time I wracked my head with the challenge, coming up with ideas only to dash them moments later. One such idea surviving the first test was to break into the house, waiting until the right opportunity arose when both families were out.
The street was quiet most of the time; the other neighbours kept to themselves. But for the occasional car in the drives or lights behind curtains, I would guess they were unoccupied.
I hadn’t seen an alarm on the building next door. Neither a box on the wall or a controller inside. I would have noticed. The thought mutated in my head as I lay on the pillow.
I could get hold of the keys, arrange a copy or just keep them and hope Frank didn’t get the locks changed. If they had nothing to hide, then why would they go to the bother?
We’d trained to use moulding clay, or that blue sticky stuff, to grab the image of a key. I wasn’t sure if they had the same thing in this place, or maybe they did and just used a different colour. If I had support I could give it to the local field lab or send it away in the post and receive it back by return. I had access to neither, no links, just the weekly messages on the computer and I was already late for my last report.
Would I need another meeting to get hold of the key?
Even if I had a key, I had to assume the place was being watched.
Rule one. Either outside or in, or both.
The plan drifted along and took a sharp turn.
A disguise could work, although timing would be a problem. Fifty-six and fifty-four would have to be empty of all others, which wasn’t impossible; in fact it happened quite a lot. My lot had family or other business which took them all away every so often. The others would go on trips, their details unknown.
I would have to travel out of the estate then come back wearing a disguise, with a new car. Getting the car wouldn’t be a problem, just one of the many skills I’d picked up early in training. With tools from Lenart’s shed I could get in and start an older car, but the black boxes and gadgets needed for the newer models were not available.
I could emerge all in black with a balaclava over my head. I’d park down the street and sneak down the fence line or appear from the woods less than a hundred footsteps to the front door, or hop over the fence line to the back. I’d soon find out if there was any surveillance. I would have to just deal with whatever I found.
Thoughts turned to the hotel. The guy with the gun. I tried to figure out if I’d explained myself well. It was a stupid mistake not to turn off my reactions, even though they were almost impossible to ignore and designed to stop me, or my charge, from dying.
A question popped into my head.
Would a multinational company want to have Frank dead? Or a government?
Of course I knew these things went on. I was, after all, one of the very instruments for the job, but if he was a legitimate businessman then he wouldn’t be a target for our organisation. He would have to stray well off the moral path to become one, or be working against or with a foreign power to warrant a hit.
Or was I still naïve, despite all I knew?
I couldn’t tell much about the hitman himself, other than he was slow and made a major mistake in standing so close to an unguarded door.
Waking from a deep sleep, I found the house quiet, the sound of the arguments gone, maybe just the TV on low in the front room.
Pulling out of bed, I felt refreshed and peeked out of my window and to the driveway.
One car gone. One still there. The bright light of the day still in full blaze.
I looked to next door and saw Frank coming out of his house. In the steep angle I could just make him out as he peered back along the lead at the dog who’d grown so much even in the last few weeks.
I watched as he shut the door, surveyed around before glancing in my direction, even though there was no chance he could have seen me behind the net curtain.
After pulling on my towelling robe, I opened my door to a crack at first to check there was no one there, then moved to the tall window in the hall, looking down the stair before getting a better view from the side window.
Who are you, Frank Bukia? I thought, watching as he led the dog between the houses.
Checking the time on my watch, I wondered why Ally hadn’t joined him and why she hadn’t called at the door.
Floating down the stairs with my feet to the edge of the wood, a habit I’d already picked up even though there was no real need, I soon saw Lenart asleep in his chair with his hand still wrapped around a glass empty of the brown liquor he loved so much. He gave no movement as the dog jumped from his lap and bounded to me, knocking me sideways.
“Not yet,” I whispered, despite knowing it would take much more to rouse the dirty old man from his drug-induced sleep.
The knock at the door wasn’t enough either.
Ally.
A full ten minutes had passed since Frank had left the house and she grinned back at me as I answered the door, peering in to find the dog before shouting “Walkies” in a high tone.
The dog erupted in a frenzy of excitement, running to the cupboard and scratching at the door to get to his lead.
“We’re going out then,” I said, smiling back.
“I guess so,” she replied with a lop-sided smile.
Humid air rolled through the doorway and handing over the leashed dog I ran upstairs to pull on a pair of shorts and a thin top to take in the rays.
Ally didn't stop talking, her words excited and in full swing, using her art of saying so much whilst giving little away. I didn’t know what she was talking about. All I could get was she was about to explode if we didn't get somewhere soon so she could speak her mind. It must have been ten minutes of our fast pace before her words made sense.
“He's so made up about you. What you did,” she said, flitting her head towards me then searching forward.
“It was just a reaction.”
“I know, but you saved his life. Mine too,” she said and without looking at me she linked her fingers into mine at my side.
“I think you were braver than me. You were standing in front of him,” I said, squeezing her hand.
“A reaction too,” she said, turning to me for a second.
“Do you love him?”
She paused and I heard movement to the side of the tree ahead.
“Girls,” came a deep voice, a voice I’d expected. Frank.
Ally didn't answer my question, other than turning to face him with a broad grin.
“I thought we might meet you here,” I said, looking at Ally, her broad mouth now a sideways smile.
“How are you?” he said, holding the dog’s lead coiled in his hand. I let Fuzz off before he pulled my arm from its socket.
Distracted, I watched as he shot out into the undergrowth in a flurry of curly hair.
“A little delicate this morning,” I replied.
“I heard you had your own little party. I hope you two girls behaved yourself together in that bed.”
Ally nudged him with her elbow, giggling. “Of course we did.”
“I don't know about you, but I had to go for a long run on the treadmill,” he said, taking in a slow deep breath.
“I went back to bed,” I said, and joined Ally’s giggles, but stopped as I caught myself, straightening my lips and drawing a deep breath. I knew if I could see myself I’d be so ashamed.
“In all seriousness. I have a lot to thank you for, Cat, and your father, it would seem.”
I smiled back.
“I was on autopilot. I don’t really remember any of it.”
“It was slick. Slicker than I’ve seen in many years. My boys are jealous, not that they’d admit it, and the way you ran into danger.”
“Stupid, I know,” I said, cutting him off.
“Not with those skills. We could use you.”
“Frank,” Ally butted in, her brow furrowed.
“What?” I replied.
“Don’t worry,” Frank said. “I’m just being silly.”
Ally relaxed away from him and curled her arm around mine.
“So when are we…?” she said, looking back at Frank, but he cut her off before she could finish.
“Soon, but I better get back.” He turned and called for the dog. “Ladies,” he said with a short bow to each of us before heading the way we’d just come.
I felt a flutter of excitement as I watched him walk away.
22
After my Sunday chores the next day, I took the ball of fluff, the children and Celina on a hike into the woods, laden down with a picnic I’d prepared. I’d invited Lenart, but he’d scoffed at the idea; instead we left him sitting at the computer, tapping at the keys as he said something about a load of work he’d had dumped in his lap.
The children raced ahead on the path, running beside the dog as he darted this way and that to explore the undergrowth. It felt great to see them be like children should be, racing around rather than shut up in the house with their games and the TV.
I carried a wicker basket; Celina held a bag with two bottles of fizz and glasses she’d insisted were essential supplies for any adventure.
With the children out of sight, Celina’s voice lowered. “Lenart worries about you,” she said without turning towards me.
“Why?” I replied, not hiding my surprise.
“He thinks you’re going off the rails.”
“Off the rails?” I said, letting go
of a snort of laughter. “Is my work suffering?”
“No, that’s not what he means. Anyway, I told you, you do too much.”
“So what does he mean?”
“Ever since the Bukia’s moved back,” she said, pausing, “he thinks you’re spending too much time with Alarica.”
“Does he now?”
“He thinks she’s a bad influence.”
“Oh,” I replied, not sure how to respond. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re very young, maybe too young to be away from your family.”
“You employed me.”
“And I’m glad we did, but I...” she paused for just a moment. “We want to make sure you’re safe.”
“From Alarica?”
“No. You know what I mean. Lenart thinks you’re seeing someone. Seeing a man.”
I let the pause hang without a reply, leaving our footsteps to punctuate each empty second that went past.
“I want you to enjoy yourself. I said it to you before. You’re too young to be stuck inside. You have the rest of your life to tie yourself to a house. The sink. The children. Have fun, but just be careful.”
The silence hung between us as we walked, both of us listening to the excited voices of the children in the distance, their cries of play getting closer.
“And I’m really sorry for what I nearly did.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said.
“No, I am,” she replied, looking down to the ground. “I was nearly the one you had to be wary of. The one who tried to take advantage.”
I linked my arm into hers and pulled up close to her, hugging her arm as we walked.
“Don’t be silly. What’s the worst that could have happened? Anyway, it would have been fun. You were just trying to give me one of those new experiences you keep talking about.”
She turned and smiled, hugging my arm in return.
“Don’t you start,” she said, sucking air in through her teeth.
By now the sound of the children’s voices had changed, the excitement hushed. They were still talking, but were off the path, their sounds coming from an area dense with trees. We unlinked our arms and took high steps to climb over the undergrowth and tall ferns, navigating through the trunks.
