by Scalzo, Russ
Frank was very careful not to throw out any names. After all, this was Washington D.C. and you never knew who was listening.
It was no mystery to Jeff. He knew he was talking about Senator Wellsenburg and he also knew how dangerous of an adversary the senator could be. Jeff reached down, pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase, and slapped it on the table.
“Well, there’s no doubt about that. I have something else to tell you to thicken the plot.” Jeff lowered his voice a bit as to not draw attention from the surrounding patrons, “I was given something the other day - a paper file that I’m sure was supposed to be destroyed a long time ago. I found it stuck in between my storm and front doors. It appears someone’s guilty conscience got the best of them, and from what I’ve read, it looks like our man might have had something to do with the deaths of your mystery couple.”
Frank’s eyes widened. The Oslow’s, he thought. Frank was not naïve. He knew this wasn’t the first time a file had been purposely misplaced, but it was the first time he was privy to it. Jack was right. Wellsenburg did have something to do with the Oslows’ deaths. No wonder Wellsenburg had put someone on their tail. Talk about a skeleton in your closet. This was big… scary big.
“What did the report say?” Frank asked.
“It seems our man had a big disagreement with Mr. O the night before he and his wife were killed. The two men had met in Montrose Park where I guess they thought no one would hear their conversation. That would have worked, except for a couple of young lovers were sitting on a park bench just out of sight of the dispute. The report says that they heard two men talking very loudly. They couldn’t see who it was, but they heard the whole conversation. It seems that Mr. O wanted out of the society. Our man tried to convince him that it was not the right time, that he should be patient, and everything would work out once he won the senate seat. But, the dispute just grew worse to the point where our man threatened Mr O. He said, and I quote from the report, ‘You have no idea what kind of powers you are dealing with O. Even I don’t fully understand how things happen. The only thing I know for sure is that they do. If you do this, I cannot guarantee you or your wife’s safety.’
“Mr. O then screamed at him and said, again I quote, ‘Listen to me, George. My wife and I are getting out! Do you understand? There are awful, terrifying things going on that we didn’t sign up for and we can’t deal with it anymore. We are done!’”
Jeff shrugged his shoulders, “That’s it. That is where the report ends. They say they never saw them or heard anything else.” Jeff quickly closed the file and put it back in his briefcase.
“So, you’re telling me that this report was never officially filed? You’re saying this was thirty years ago when our man hadn’t even been elected yet?”
Jeff took another drink and answered, “It was common knowledge that our man was receiving large sums of money from the Os, so there was already a connection, but if this report ever saw the light of day, you could only imagine what kind of questions would have been asked. Granted, there is no last name, but come on! Someone named George threatening him like that? The day before he and his wife are killed? The press would have had a field day with that. He was a rookie. That alone would have cost him the election.”
Frank was intrigued. His next question was an obvious one, “So, what happened to the young lovers on the park bench?”
“Nothing. The report was never filed and I suppose because they hadn’t really seen anybody, they just left them alone.”
Frank’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. He couldn’t wait to tell Jack about all this. In fact, he would have called him right then, except he knew he was out and probably having a great time with Emily.
“That is amazing. It’s hard to believe someone kept that file all this time. How did they know to give it to you, I wonder?”
“That’s the scary part,” Jeff replied. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s because everyone knows me as a straight shooter. Regardless, whoever it was trusted me. Oh, that’s not all my friend.” Jeff wasn’t done. “You remember the other name I gave you?”
How could Frank forget that name? Dante Adal. Just the thought of his name sent a chill up Frank’s spine.
“Yes, you said he was part of the society.”
Jeff leaned in over the table and spoke in a hushed tone, “He’s more than that. I checked him out. He’s a big-time business mogul from out in L.A. Our man flew out there with him last week on his private jet. I’m not sure what went on out there, but I heard through the grapevine that all of a sudden he’s acquired a pile of money from some new Super PAC for his potential run at the presidency.”
Jeff’s whole demeanor turned very somber because he knew Frank’s life could very well be in danger. “Here’s the situation. The closer you get to linking him with anything that would hinder or eliminate him from the presidential race, the hotter it’s going to get for you and your buddy Jack Bennett. Having you followed may be just the beginning. Until we find out more about this Dante Adal, maybe you and Jack should lay low for a while. You know, give me a few days or so.”
Frank put his elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. He knew that Dante Adal was more than a big time businessman, but how could he explain that to Jeff without him thinking he had lost it. He could hear the angel saying Dante’s name over and over in his head, but it was Dante’s response that he remembered most: I will have my day and this world and all the fools who live in it will obey me.
He had to at least warn Jeff. If something were to happen to him and he hadn’t told him, he would never be able to forgive himself. He decided the best way was to just say it. Frank wasn’t known for being subtle anyway.
“Listen, I have to tell you that this business mogul, as you call him, is very dangerous. I know it might be hard to believe, but he’s over-the-top, more dangerous than our man. I want you to be very careful about what you say and what questions you ask. I’m not sure who can be trusted in The Bureau at this point. Somebody tipped this guy off about our mission today, and the only people who knew what time we were going be there were a couple of people in my department. Others may have known about the case, but few knew the day or the time. I made sure of that because Jack wanted no one else there - no press, no agents, and no paranormal ghost chasers.”
The waiter brought their dinners and asked if they would like another drink. Frank said yes to a refill of his cabernet, while Jeff drew a bye on his Scotch.
Jeff patiently waited for the waiter to walk away even though his curiosity was killing him. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. What do you know about this guy that I don’t? Because if I need to be careful, I’ll need to know why and I need all the info I can get my hands on.”
Frank stood up and said, “Give me a minute. I have to tap my bladder. I’ll be right back.”
On his way to the men’s room, Frank glanced quickly around the room to get a handle on who was sitting close enough to their booth to pick up on their conversation. On his way back, he checked again just to be sure.
He sat back down in the booth and asked, “How’re the crab cakes?”
“Good, as usual,” Jeff said as he took another bite. “Are we clear?”
“I think so. This might be hard to swallow so I’m going to take it slow, and also because I want to eat this incredible steak.” Frank cut a piece and put it in his mouth. “Man, that’s good. I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon.”
By this time, Jeff was just staring at him from across the table waiting eagerly for an answer. Frank cut another piece, stabbed it with his fork, and was about to eat it when Jeff sat back in his seat and gave him an impatient look.
“Oh, sorry. So, this guy Dante. Well he’s kinda not like a real person.”
“You mean he’s a fraud,” Jeff said with a matter-of-fact expression.
“Well, kind of. He’s a bad angel. A demon. You know, a spirit thing.”
Jeff just kept staring across the table, a
half smile on his face, waiting for Frank to start laughing, but he didn’t. He just cut another piece of steak and stuck it in his mouth.
“What the hell are you talking about, Frank? You are telling me with a straight face that this...”
With his mouth full of steak, Frank lifted his arm and held up one finger as if to signal Jeff to lower his voice.
Jeff took a deep breath, leaned in, and spoke in a quieter tone. “You’re really saying that you believe this Dante Adal is a demon or something?”
Without hesitation, Frank matter-of-factly said, “Yeah. That’s what I’m telling you. The guy is a demon thing.”
Jeff was dumbfounded. “I don’t know what to say to that. How can you be so nonchalant, so cavalier about something like that and expect me to believe what you’re saying? Frank, I think you have gone a little overboard with this newfound religion of yours. How do you know this? Did Jesus tell you?” he asked with a slightly sarcastic edge.
Frank stopped chewing for a second and said, “Look, your dinner is getting cold. Eat your crab cakes.”
Jeff gave Frank a look of disbelief, then motioned for the waiter, “Waiter, bring me another Scotch, please.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
As soon as the waiter turned away and started towards the bar, Jeff looked back at Frank. “What the hell do you want me to say, Frank? The next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you see angels, too.”
Frank almost choked. He stopped eating for a moment, lifted his napkin off his lap, and placed it on the table. He realized he owed Jeff a more detailed explanation than that, but it had been a rough day and he was still new at this kind of thing.
“Okay, I know you think I’ve lost it, but listen, Jeff. You would not believe the day I had today and when I say you would not believe it, inside I’m praying that you eventually will. Oh, and by the way, that wasn’t nice to say about Jesus. If you must know, I have seen him.”
Frank paused, looked back down at his steak, then lifted his head, and looked back at Jeff. A slight grin slowly grew on his face as he realized what his statement had just sounded like. Then he said, “Not Jesus. Dante. And if you want to stay ahead of all this, you better get on board with the truth. What I’m telling you is real and knowing all this just might save your life one day.”
Frank took a deep breath in, then out, put down his fork, and folded his arms with both elbows on the table. “Listen, we’ve gone as far as we can with this conversation in here. Let’s finish our dinner. It’s a nice evening. We’ll take a walk around town and I’ll tell you what I know.”
The waiter came over with Jeff’s drink and placed it on the table. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you. That’s all.”
Jeff never looked at the waiter. He just kept staring at Frank. He was completely dumbfounded. The waiter gave them both a weird look and walked away.
Jeff reluctantly went back to his crab cakes. He couldn’t help but wonder what his longtime friend wanted to tell him that he couldn’t say at the table. Frank, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat and went on with his plan to demolish his steak. The explanation would have to wait.
* * *
Frank wasn’t the only one having a nice dinner and soaking in the historic atmosphere of D.C. Jack surprised Emily and took her to The Chart House in Alexandria, a picturesque little town and the hometown of George Washington. It was now eight o’clock and Jack and Emily were just finishing their dinner outside on the patio where they were enjoying the gorgeous panoramic view of the Potomac. The decor at the restaurant was beachside - a laid-back, nautical theme with bubble lighting fixtures throughout. Jack and Emily both loved seafood and The Chart House made a great baked shrimp stuffed with crab. The couple was enjoying the clear, late evening sky, and a very comfortable seventy-five degree breeze off the water when a woman in her mid-thirties wearing a green floral lace dress cut just above her knees began to walk towards their table. Her hair was light brown and styled in a way that said I’m sexy and smart. Every man looked up as she walked by, but she didn’t seem to mind. She appeared to be the kind of woman that was used to causing a stir.
She walked right up to Jack. “Hi, I’m sorry for interrupting but I have to ask. You’re Jack Bennett, right?”
Jack looked up at her and smiled. “Yes, I am.”
The woman barely gave him time to answer. “My name is Lisa Hill from the Washington Post. I read your blog everyday and follow you on Twitter. I just had to come over and meet you. Your posts are quite interesting. I would love to interview you some time.”
Emily glanced at Jack from the corner of her eye, watching what kind of reaction he was going to have to this beautiful woman raining compliments down on his head. Jack didn’t having much experience with this sort of thing and was in no way ready for this relationship test.
Staring into her deep, big brown eyes, he said, “Oh, thank you. I’m flattered. I’m glad someone is reading them. I’d hate to think I was only talking to myself.”
Lisa laughed showing off her sparkling smile. “Oh, you have so many who read your posts,” she said flirtatiously. “Here’s my card. Give me a call at your convenience and we’ll get together for that interview.”
Jack took the card, smiled politely, and said, “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
Lisa gave Emily a quick, patronizing glance and walked back to her table.
Jack had no idea what had just happened or what this little encounter was going to cost him. He was about to get a lesson in how to ruin a wonderful evening in fifteen seconds.
Emily stared at him in a way he had never seen before. “What was that?”
Jack, still in the land of I Don’t Have a Clue, said, “Wow, that was pretty cool, huh? An interview for the Washington Post.”
Emily’s blood pressure was on the rise. “You do realize that you didn’t even introduce me to her or recognize the fact that I was sitting here.”
“I didn’t really have time. I mean, she was just here for a few seconds.”
Emily’s eyes bored down on him. “You mean you didn’t have time because you couldn’t take your eyes off of her long enough to remember that I was here. Do you know how that makes me feel? She looked at me like I didn’t matter to you.”
Jack wasn’t done digging his hole, his inexperience threatening to bury him. “She only wanted an interview, that’s all. I think you’re making too much of it. Why would she look at you that way? She seemed very nice.”
Emily had had enough. Jack had yet to learn that a man could never defend another woman to his girlfriend or wife and live to tell about it. Jack had just committed the cardinal sin of relationships.
Emily couldn’t believe what she just heard. In her mind, Jack had just chosen this woman over her. The last thing she wanted was Jack sitting somewhere with this hot, career woman pouring his heart out and telling his life story when she was supposed to be the one right in the middle of that life.
Emily looked at Jack, her big blue eyes softly speaking volumes, “I don’t want to come off as some kind of jealous freak, but no offense Jack, you didn’t think that was a little unusual or strange? I know you have over ten thousand followers on Twitter and nobody believes in what you do more than I do, but really? The Washington Post? That woman is up to something.”
Jack might have been a little naive when it came to women, but he was slowly realizing two things. One, that he had just been set up by an enemy that he was used to dealing with in a much different way, and two, Emily had proven once again that she was the one God had put into his life for the long haul.
Jack reached out and touched her hand. “I apologize,” he said, lowering his head in embarrassment. “I should have been more aware and I should have introduced you immediately. I was taken by surprise and I let myself get enamored by all her compliments. You’re right. Something’s up and I should have seen that.”
Emily reached out with her other hand, tilted her head slight
ly, and said, “And...?” She was waiting for a confession.
Jack knew what she wanted to hear. It just killed him to have to admit it, “And, because she was pretty.”
Emily smiled. “Pretty? She was super hot and you know it. That’s okay this time, Jack Bennett, but there better not be a second time.”
Emily leaned in, placed her hand on his cheek, looked deep into his eyes, and kissed him. Not just a kiss, but a long, incredible kiss. One that let him know that she was hot too. Of course it also didn’t hurt that Emily knew Lisa, the reporter, was watching from afar. By the time she let him go, Jack had forgotten about everything else but her.
Emily flipped her beautiful blonde hair back over her shoulders. Knowing she had made her point, she said, “Let’s get out of here and go for a walk.”
“Sure, that sounds good to me,” Jack said with a big smile on his face. “It’s a beautiful little town and a really nice night, so let’s go.”
Jack left cash in the check folder and gave the waiter a nice tip. He always believed in tipping well. Emily and Jack walked out of The Chart House smiling, hand in hand. As they walked by Lisa’s table, Jack suddenly felt something in his spirit. He glanced back at Lisa and gave her a cordial smile because that’s just who he was, when he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. It was a kind of shadow or shroud hovering around her. When he looked back again, it was gone. The Lord had just reminded him that he wasn’t meant to do this alone; that Emily was a gift He had given to him, and him to her for a multitude of reasons. Jack had been given the faith to dispose of demons face-to-face, but the enemy had many more covert ways to destroy a life, and it was apparent that the Lord had given Emily her own gifts.
Once outside, they turned and walked along the brick sidewalk on North Union Street past the Torpedo Factory Art Center. Emily looked up at the two-story building and noted, “I’ve heard of this place, but never been in it. Was it really a torpedo factory?”
Jack knew all about it, of course. He loved history and was happy to be talking about something else besides what just happened. “Yes, the Torpedo Factory Art Center was once an actual torpedo factory. It all began the day after Armistice Day, the day marking the official end of World War I. It was November 12, 1918. Ironically, on that day, the U.S. Navy began construction on the original building, the U.S. Naval Torpedo Station. It was once fully operational. I read that it’s now the home to over 165 professional artists who work, exhibit, and sell their art there.”
