by C. S Luis
“No. She is not,” I simply said, grinding my teeth. Of course, I knew he would carry out his threats.
“I know you want her. I can see it in your eyes. You need to be aware that you approaching her in any way will jeopardize your mission. I can’t afford failure because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Concentrate on your mission! Do not approach her.” He growled at me, keeping his calm composure. I’m not sure how he did that.
Was I relieved he thought those were my reasons for bringing her up? And now I strongly regretted it. But in a way, it justified my queer behavior if he sensed it. It excused it.
“She’s too young for me,” I merely said.
“Like that ever stopped the great John Slater,” The Man in White mocked, almost laughing at me. It angered me that he thought so little of me.
“Now, besides your unsettling attraction to her, is there anything else that stirs your interest—anything of interest perhaps to me?” he asked.
“Nothing further, sir—” I simply replied.
“Very well then, she’s irrelevant. So, do we understand each other?” The Man in White asked.
“Yes sir, we do,” I uttered through a firm lip.
“But just for your own amusement. I’ll send you what little The Company has on her and her family if it’ll please you,” he suddenly offered, and now he was grinning.
“Then get her off your mind for good! Is that understood?” I folded a firm lip; I’m fucking trying, sir, I thought.
I merely nodded. But what else could he do? I already knew far more than he wanted me to. I could tell and sense it. Nothing would keep me from searching or digging out everything I wanted to know about her. Why did I feel compelled to know everything about her? And why did I feel he knew more? The harder I tried to concentrate, the harder I felt pulled back to the web of confusion whenever she was near. And it was nothing like the sexual conquests for then I would understand it. It was something deep, something unnatural and unearthly. Something I knew I had sensed before that made no further sense when I realized it.
“Don’t forget you have work to do. Enjoy the photograph,” he smirked. The screen went dead.
I couldn’t ignore it; something had stopped me from informing The Man in White of her existence. She was a minder, a rare thing because she was female and was even more valuable for that reason.
I was on my own once again, on my own with my emotions and desires, a victim of them like I had never been before. But for some reason, I was not deterred. I would have my price. And I would be away from here, far from the confusion that was spiraling my thoughts and emotions out of control. And I would be myself once more. The hunter. The lover. Those things made sense to me.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crystal. It was glowing red, and I knew when I saw the light glowing from its body that what I was looking for was indeed close.
I didn’t want it to turn into the incident in Chicago that had cost me a whole squad, questions, and punishment; they chewed me up and spat me out just for simply following orders and failing to contain the incident that involved the local police. But The Company had procedures for when local authorities were contacted. They were bought out, and those that weren’t, were quickly silenced in other ways.
The file arrived in my inbox shortly after. I clicked the attachment and another screen opened; it showed a picture of a very beautiful family, a well-dressed man in a black suit and dark tie with blond hair and blue eyes, a woman beside him dressed in a red gown. She was beautiful and resembled Claudia. She had long brown hair and bronzed, beautiful skin. Her frame was small in comparison to her husband’s.
“You do look like your mother,” I whispered to Claudia’s picture. Claudia looked nothing like her father, except I could see where she got her gaze. Her father looked like a man who demanded perfection and respect and someone who would get it at the tip of a hat. He looked fearsome with a smirk on his lips that seemed to be laughing back at the camera. He didn’t look like someone I would have gotten along with. I think we would have butted heads instantly. He’d have seen me coming long before I was inches in front of him. He would have known what I was after, and he wouldn’t have allowed me within a hair of his daughter.
They seemed to be at a charity function; Claudia was wearing a beautiful maroon dress and standing beside her father with her father’s arm around her and the other arm around her mother. He had two very attractive women beside him. Lucky fuck! She seemed older in this picture for some reason, and I looked closely. Was she wearing makeup? Yes, she was dolled up, painted like a beautiful lady. She was beautiful, but why did I sense there was a reason for her appearance in this photo?
She was the apple of her father’s eye. I could very well see that, and I wasn’t surprised that it made me a bit jealous. Nicholas Belle was quite a handsome man, and I could see we both had the same taste in women: Spanish.
The date on the picture showed that it was taken three weeks before the accident. The caption read: Espon, Espon & Spain Financial Firm, CEO Nicholas Belle with his wife Isabella Belle and daughter Claudia Belle attending the Valentine & Fassbender charity function.
Valentine? Now, why did that sound familiar? It appeared that the caption was missing something.
Below the picture, it seemed that Bryce had composed a small bio of Miss Belle in a brief paragraph. Can anyone’s life be summed up in a single paragraph? I could almost hear Bryce’s voice in my head as I read through the bio:
Born April 6, 1995, Claudia Belle is the only child of Nicholas & Isabelle Belle. She attended Portland High School and has excelled in English, yet her favorite subject is the arts; her hobbies included painting, drawing, and reading. Her favorite artists are Ralph Steadman, favorite writers Anne Rice, Chuck Palahniuk, Bret Easton Ellis, and Hunter Thompson. Her favorite color is red, favorite actor Johnny Depp, favorite music a variety of artists. She loves daisies and roses.
Claudia’s mother, Isabella Belle, whose own mother died at childbirth while giving birth to fraternal twins, Isabelle and her brother Christian, who were later put up for adoption and separated and their biological father was unknown. The Company records indicate Christian, Claudia’s uncle, joined the army at the tender age of 18 straight from high school and then was shipped to Iraq when the war started; he was in the front lines when it all came down. The Company has little information regarding his whereabouts after, and he is presumed to be dead.
There are brief school records of Christian, and the adopted family’s surname is Vega; no known files existed of the adopted family. The few photographs of Christian that The Company has are of high school portraits.
I clicked on a photo, and the picture was of a skinny kid with very dark hair and piercing dark eyes appeared, and another was of Christian in his military uniform; he was a grown muscular man with facial hair and a large cigar posing with an aka assault rifle. It appeared he had been serving in the military for a long time, and it was something that he apparently loved.
Nicholas Belle was a highly-respected man and CEO of a large financial firm. Not a lot is known of Mr. Belle or his business dealings, only that he worked with a large number of respected corporations.
I found it hard to believe that The Company had no further records on Nicholas Belle. My Google searches returned with ‘page no longer available’, and I began to wonder why. Especially if he’d been a very important businessman, you’d think there would be some kind of record about him somewhere. On the body of the email Bryce had sent, it read, “That’s all The Company has of Claudia Belle and her family. As I indicated before, she’s irrelevant and of no importance to you or The Company. I hope that I have satisfied your curiosity; now get to work. And please, no more questions regarding the Belles or anything else. That has nothing to do with your assignment.”
The information was somewhat of a tease of bitter news. What was I really expecting to find out about her or her abilities? It was, however, a relief that The Company had no i
dea of such things. But why did I sense there was more to know about Nicholas Belle, Claudia’s father; the smile on his face and those piercing eyes mocked me. Could he read minds like his daughter? Why did I know the answer already? The smile said it all.
“What are you hiding?” I whispered to his picture.
I reached into the other pocket, pulling out a strange small device; in fact, it almost resembled an ordinary watch but for the clear case and flashing lights upon the body. It looked fancy.
I could easily turn the head of the watch to change the patterns of the frequency. I called it the mind scrambler or mind manipulator; it interfered with mind waves to keep my thoughts from being read. I could program it to distort or project memories or thoughts that I wanted to forecast. The Company came up with all sorts of devices to stay ahead of the oddities, minders, mind readers, and manipulators. But I rarely used it. I was trained to conceal my thoughts, and I was one of the best.
I lifted the watch from my pocket and onto my wrist after reconsidering my last encounter with Miss Belle. A smile spread over my lips again.
Concentrate.
Had I made a grave mistake by not confessing my peculiar sickness to Bryce? No, he would only pull me from the mission. I needed to complete this. The money would be worth it. Afterwards, I’ll take a vacation or a much-needed CAT scan if necessary.
A knock at the office door startled me and I dropped the crystal and secured the watch on my wrist immediately as I called for whoever to enter.
Michael opened the door and found me emptying a box next to the desk.
“Dr. Black, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Michael said, holding a briefcase in one hand and a notebook in the other. I often wondered if people still used briefcases. Apparently they did. I grinned, putting the box aside. The bell rang in the distance outside in the hallway, and I almost forgot what time of the day it was, or where I was, for that matter.
“I can see you’re still trying to get organized,” Michael said with a grin on his face.
“The last box is always the hardest,” I politely answered with a grin.
“So, how can I help you, Michael?” I closed the laptop on my desk.
“Well, I was just wondering if you would like to have dinner with us?” Michael politely asked.
“Us?” I asked, fully aware of whom Michael meant.
“Claudia and I,” He paused. “I figured we didn’t actually get off on the right foot this morning. And I think she feels bad. So I thought maybe you can have dinner at our house tonight?”
A smile spread over my face. The opportunity I had been waiting for presented itself to me. I would see her again.
“What time should I be there?” I asked.
18
Alexandra Burton
The last bell rang before she made it to the end of the hall. The halls were now deserted, and she was alone, emerging from the side corner. She heard steps approaching. It was probably the patrols; they always made their trips around this time of the day. Thomas had a new recruit by the name of Sam; he didn’t seem to know what he was doing.
But then, she thought the same of Thomas. How many times had it been now that she had gotten caught? Last time, she had been sent to Mr. Claypool’s office and he’d written her up for skipping. She had to be careful, two or more slips would make her parents meet with the principal, and she couldn’t afford to let that happen. The old lady she lived with had been more than generous to cover for her the last two times when Mr. Claypool said he would call her parents.
Alex recalled sitting in front of his desk, his face a mass of lines and wrinkles of disappointment. He had on a white shirt and black tie. Something about a man in a tie made her squirm, especially a good-looking man like Mr. Claypool who had a soft spot for his students. He always wanted to give her a chance, no matter how many times he had seen her. But it appeared he was slowly regretting it.
His blue eyes found hers. She smiled her best back at him; she had often gotten away with it by using that smile. But as she had mentioned, Mr. Claypool or Ed Harris as she had come to nickname him, was a softie.
“As much as I enjoy these little meeting of ours, I have to say this is really getting to be a bad habit. What is it, the third time this week?” Mr. Claypool asked, sitting back on his seat; he’d taken out his detention slips. Alex cringed, biting down on her lip. Not again, she thought.
“No, you can’t count the other time because I wasn’t skipping. I was late and Mr. Thomas always has it out for me. I tried to explain to him that I was going to the bathroom because…” She came a little closer. “Well…I had girl issues. You know…” She said, trying to get her point across, and it was more than obvious that she had when Mr. Claypool slightly blushed and tried to clear his throat, wanting to change the subject right away.
“Yes, I know…you mentioned that. But that doesn’t excuse you for all those other times.”
She lowered her head. “I guess not. But Mr. Claypool, I’m really trying. It’s just hard to concentrate with all that’s happened.” She looked up and did her best I’m sorry expression. She was good at that, or was it that he was a sucker for it?
“Oh, would you like me to talk to your mom? We can all have a sit-down and discuss this.” He made a movement to pick up the phone.
“Can I just come and talk to you? All I really need is someone to talk to. And you are a good listener, Mr. Claypool.” She warmly smiled as he put the phone down. He was a total sucker for the old damsel in distress routine.
“Well, I guess that wouldn’t hurt. But you must promise not to skip again. I know having to cope with your parents’ divorce is hard, but you’re strong, Alex, and with time you’ll be able to get past this. I know you will. And I want to see you graduate and succeed.”
She had mentioned her parents’ divorce a couple of times; you’d think it would have been worn out by now, but it was still working. Men were so easy to manipulate, especially these assistant principals. The easy part was pretending about the whole divorce and looking like a girl who didn’t know her place in the world. But she was far from that girl.
She turned the corner, and when the coast was clear, she raced across to the lockers near the stairwell. At first, she’d forgotten the combination; those things were so annoying. Remembering it finally, she pushed in the number, pulled open the lock, and opened the locker. She reached far into the back where she retrieved a small black pouch, and once she had it, she closed the locker and locked it.
At the end of the hall, she heard steps nearing again.
Damn, Thomas. Damn, Sam.
They were heading back this way; she was sure of it. If she got caught this time it was back to Mr. Claypool’s office or worse, Dr. Black.
She clearly remembered Mr. Claypool saying, “I don’t want to bring this to the attention of the principal.”
But the principal then was Dr. Edwards and not Dr. Black. And as much as she didn’t want to be in any principal’s office, it was Dr. Black she’d hoped to avoid; he’d always given her a strange vibe. The steps neared, so she hurried away, dashing across into the dark stairwell. She thought she was safe and began to slowly take a few steps up when she suddenly heard the footsteps hurrying behind.
“Shit!” She uttered under her breath, moving herself up the steps and nearly losing her footing. Her pursuers were at the bottom of the stairwell now. She could hear their feet stomping up the steps after her. She came from the stairwell and raced down the hall; her best chance was to hide in the bathroom, but then she double backed, finding she had made an error. The bathroom was in the other direction.
Too late, her pursuers were already at the top of the stairs; she would have to head in the other direction, perhaps down the outside and into the balcony area that led into the ROTC classes and tennis courts. She hoped no one was outside at this time of the day, or at least not near the balcony area of the hall. She looked at her watch as she neared the exit.
Alex coul
dn’t hear her pursuers; perhaps she had lost them. She rushed through the glass doors, finding the area empty. The ROTC students were back in class and the tennis courts were empty. She was alone and could escape down the end of the hall back into the other end of the building. But as she neared the entrance, she saw Thomas coming from around the corner, so she doubled backed in the direction from which she had come, pulling open the doors and ducking out of sight just in time.
“Shit!” She mumbled. Mr. Thomas’ trainee was heading in her direction down the hall. If they found her, it meant trouble. Not that she minded, but that only meant her parents would be called, and that was not going to go well with the old lady she was living with.
She clung to the black pouch in her hands, and the bracelet on her wrist began to glow a light blue.
“I know. I know,” she uttered as if she were talking to it.
The trainee’s steps got closer, and she was sure Mr. Thomas would appear at the other entrance and spot her any moment.
Then, the bell rang, and just like that, students poured out of the classes into the hallway; one had to push their way through the hordes. She joined them, following behind a huge jock and his buddies; the guy must have been well over six feet. She was surprised he didn’t have any facial hair yet.
Thomas finally came rushing in from the other end; school was out, so the hallways were much more crowded. The crowd swallowed Alex, and she managed to follow it out until she was able to dart into the other direction, away from her pursuers. Thomas’ trainee was looking all around, but neither one of them knew who they were looking for.
Alex managed to get down the stairwell leading to the exit near the cafeteria; from there, it was a straight shot past the parked line of yellow buses into the parking lot where her beat-up mustang awaited her. She took a deep breath.
"Let’s never do that again,” she whispered.
