0.5 Meeting Monday
Page 2
That was when Jake saw Halley. She stood with her feet apart near some bushes at the base of the building. She was leaning over the bushes like she was looking for something she lost. A man held her from behind. It was Compton. Jake narrowed his eyes and walked toward them.
He heard Compton’s brusque voice as he neared.
“Do not let me catch you repeating this. Do you understand?” Compton held her arm out behind her, her shoulder bent at an impossible angle.
Halley sobbed and nodded her head. Her hair hung down. Jake could not see her face.
“What is this?” he asked.
Compton turned to him.
“Go away, Agent Vine. This is under control here.”
Halley shook her head and motioned with her left hand.
“I am afraid I cannot do that, Compton. Let her go.” His voice was cold. He did not yell. The timber of his voice was sufficient.
Compton glared at him and then pushed Halley into the bushes. She fell forward.
“You do not scare me, Vine. I know who you are. You cannot hide behind your father’s pants leg,”
“You are right, Compton. I am perfectly capable of putting trash like you out without my father’s help.”
Compton’s lip curled. Jake noted Halley recovering. He saw her face for the first time. An angry welt covered her cheek.
Compton came at him then. His fist drove into Jake’s sternum, knocking the wind from his chest. He closed his eyes as sparks of light exploded behind his lids. His teeth rattled together as Compton followed with a left cross.
Jake staggered and caught the top rail of the painted iron fence that surrounded the grounds.
He looked up and wiped blood from his mouth. He smiled.
“That all you got, old man? You had a reputation of being tough.”
Compton stepped forward again, his stance wide.
Jake kicked his left foot from beneath him as he planted on it. He felt the swing cross over his head. Compton turned quickly and blocked Jake’s downward punch with a forearm.
Compton barreled into him, knocking him to the ground. Jake scrambled, rolling to one side as Compton’s boot stomped the pavement where Jake’s head had once been.
“You playing for keeps?” Jake asked as he stood.
Compton stared at him, his eyes filled with hate.
“Someone has to teach you,” Compton said, his teeth clenched.
“I do not believe you are qualified. Sir.”
This time when Compton closed the distance between them, Jake stepped to the side and brought his elbow up in a vicious blow across the agent’s nose. Blood spurted everywhere. Compton cried out and collapsed to his hands and knees.
Jake kicked him over and stood with his foot on Compton’s chest. His chest heaved with the effort of trying to breathe through a forcefully deviated septum.
“Enough. Agent Parker will be relieved from your unit. I will report this to Agent in Charge Evers. You are done.”
Compton said nothing. Only stared up at the sky.
Jake glanced at Halley. She stood alongside, staring down at Compton with wide eyes.
“What happened?” Jake asked.
She shook her head and continued to stare.
“Agent Parker. You have to tell me what happened. Did he hurt you?”
She sobbed and shook her head.
Berlin, Germany July 16, 2020
Schloss Bellevue
2120 hours, CEST
Halley could not speak. She wanted to throw up. She was so ashamed and scared. The last hour had been a strain on her.
Jake stood with his foot on Compton’s heaving chest. He looked like his nose was broken. Blood poured from it, caking in his right ear. Compton stared up. Other than his ragged breathing, he was silent.
She tried to avoid Jake’s stare.
“It’s over. Where is the Ambassador, Agent Parker? Where is the rest of your team?” Jake demanded.
“Inside. The Marines have him secured.”
“Secured? Why?”
“He is dead.”
“Dead? Why?”
She licked her lips and stared at the pavement where he had fallen.
“Allergies.”
She saw Agent Vine stare down at Compton.
“It is true,” he croaked.
“How?” Jake asked.
She still could not look at him. She knew he was struggling to make sense of all this. She wished she could help. It all made no sense.
She was there when he began to choke, his face turning red then purple. At first, they thought he had swallowed something and his airway was clogged. Clavelle had tried the Heimlich. He merely vomited onto the pristine lawn of the Schloss Bellevue. Halley quickly diagnosed anaphylactic shock. That was when a doctor had shown up. He hand his friends tended to the aged ambassador. They were too late.
It was the doctor that had suggested it was an allergic reaction. Then Wesson confessed to giving Ambassador Welsey a sandwich. Soon, it was discovered that the caterer had sliced the tuna and rye with the same knife as the peanut butter and jelly.
She felt her head droop.
“What does he want you to keep secret, Halley?”
It no longer mattered. It only mattered to Compton and his cronies. Saving face was important. She was the rookie. She was expected to be the whistle blower. The truth was she would easily take this secret to the grave.
“Nothing,” she said. She watched as Compton eyed her from his position on the ground. She could see the hate there. What she had done to deserve it, she could not comprehend nor care.
Jake frowned at her. She sniffled.
“Let him up, Jake,” she commanded.
He tilted his head.
“Will you tell me?”
She shrugged. She could feel the heat of Compton’s stare. Her career was over before it had properly begun. Compton would make this all her fault.
Clavelle’s attempt at saving the Ambassador had actually been the cause of his death. The reaction was severe, but when Agent Clavelle had attempted to dislodge a non-existent obstruction, he had broken three of the ambassador’s ribs. Two had punctured the old man’s lungs. The allergic reaction had caused the bile and vomit to fill his lungs when they failed to properly diagnose it. He had died from a combination of drowning on his own vomit and a punctured lung.
They were all responsible. Clavelle most of all. Compton had forced the team to agree to keep Clavelle’s involvement secret. He had suggested it was an accident and that they should all maintain the facts that supported that theory. When she had broken down crying, Compton had slapped her, pinned her arm behind her and proceeded to administer threats.
“Maybe someday. Right now I just want to go home.”
She looked and saw a sadness in his eyes.
He stared down at Compton.
“Do not think that you are safe. I will have your badge.”
Compton staggered to his feet, blood dripping freshly from his nose. He held it pinched, his eyes narrow.
“You can have it, Vine. I quit.”
Jake nodded.
Compton stumbled off down the alley toward the unit’s vehicle.
“You alright?” Jake asked her. He held her by the shoulders.
She swallowed again, her head bowed. She tried to nod.
“You need me to escort you back to the Adlon?”
Halley shook her head.
“Where did Compton go?” Johnson asked from behind her.
Jake looked over his shoulder.
“Back to the vehicle. I think he broke his nose?”
She watched as Jake stared Johnson down. Johnson did not say anything. Halley sniffled during the silence between them.
A deep thumping rhythm sounded through the lawn, vibrating the old stone walls. The drummer was using a synthetic drum machine. Its beat reverberated against her head.
She heard Johnson leave, his footsteps echoing off the building.
She looked up at Ja
ke. He was staring at her.
“If he hurt you, I swear...”
She shook her head.
“No. But thank you for Compton,” she managed.
She liked the way his strong hands held her shoulders. She liked the shallow cleft in his chin and the way his hair seemed carefully messed up.
He smirked.
“All you had to do was ask,” he quipped.
“I will remember that next time,” she said. His eyes were so expressive, so full of mirth. Yet, as she stared, she could swear that somewhere in there he stored a hurt. It explained the edge in his personality. She blinked tears from her eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take me back to the hotel?” he offered.
She tried to smile. She would very much like for him to take her to the hotel. Something told her that she would regret moving that quickly.
“I also heard you are a lousy driver. I think I will take my chances with public transportation tonight,” she said.
He smiled, but she could tell he was disappointed.
What was this she was feeling? On the heels of the death of her charge she was falling for this strange man? And was she imagining that he was interested as well, or was it real?
She scratched her head.
“You said you will tell me sometime,” he reminded her.
“Sometime,” she said as he released her shoulders. It felt as though an electrical current had been removed. She felt her body relax. “I need to get to a de-briefing and make a statement.”
He nodded.
“This isn’t going to look good on your resume,” he noted.
She sighed. The party was winding down around them. It was a wonder that the Ambassador’s death had not caused more stir. Everyone was probably too caught up in socializing, drinking, and keeping up appearances to note Welsey’s ungainly fall.
“I’m going to need a resume, aren’t I? Can I use you as a reference?”
He smiled.
“Now who is name dropping? I suppose it would further your career with the name of the President’s son on your resume,” he joked.
She shook her head as she stepped away.
“I thought your name was Monday?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Only for today. Who knows tomorrow?”
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Meeting Monday. It is just a taste of a longer story that continues in Manic Monday. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story and encourage you to check out the rest of the adventures of Jake Monday. You can find all of the currently published titles at www.infiniteword press.com or follow this link to sign up for a new release newsletter: http://eepurl.com/Bb5rD
Since for many this might be the first time you are exposed to the world of Jake Monday, I deliberately tried to keep the spoilers to a minimum. For the fans of Jake Monday, my intent was to give you a taste of the Jake and Halley’s first meeting in Berlin. I intend to include a lengthier version of this story in my Jake Monday Omnibus Edition in December 2014. It will include all 7 novellas in the Jake Monday Chronicles as well as deleted scenes, this origin story, character profiles, a time line of events, as well as other unique extras.
In the meantime, I want to express my gratitude for my readers. I value your feedback, your time, and your reviews. If you like this story, share it with a friend.
Thank you again,
Robert Michael
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robert Michael is a writer and commercial roofing supply sales representative. His love for books, family, and God fill his time and his spirit. He enjoys reading, writing, sports, fishing, and gaming. He lives in Broken Arrow with his wife and four children.
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A MONTH OF MONDAYS by Robert Michael
THANK GOD IT’S MONDAY by Robert Michael
THE MONDAY COLLECTION, Vol. 1 by Robert Michael
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