The Territory of Lies

by Ana Stone

  "It's an old joke, sort of. When we were freshman in college, I stayed in an apartment close to the campus. My roommate dropped out after only a month or so and I put an ad on the bulletin board outside my computer class. GW was looking for a roommate and answered my ad.

  “We hit it off like we'd known each other all our lives and so he moved in with me. When my parents found out I was rooming with a man they were very unhappy. When they found out I was rooming with a black man they almost went into shock so I explained by telling them that GW really wasn't human, that he'd been dropped here by an alien civilization to study humanity and also improve our computer technology."

  "And they went for it?"

  "Not until they met GW, then it didn't matter anymore. They came to look at him like a son. In fact, my dad helped him out his senior year when his father was killed and money was tight."

  "What happened to his dad?"

  "Mr. We'zel was a policeman in New York. He was killed during a robbery."

  "I didn't know Weasel's father was a policeman."

  "He doesn't talk about his dad very much. They were real close and George, his dad's name was George - anyway, he was like GW's hero. He was big and strong and smart and above all - honest. GW never felt like he measured up to his dad until the last time he saw him.

  “His dad had been shot and the doctor's just couldn't pull him out. GW's mom called and GW was in a panic. He had no car and little money and he was afraid he wouldn't make it. I called my father and he had a helicopter take us to the hospital.

  “GW's dad told him that he never felt he had measured up to GW, that he always wished he could have been as smart and he told him how proud he was. Then he died."

  "That's a pretty sad story. You'd never guess by being around Weasel, either. He always seems so−"

  "Nonchalant, unemotional and unaffected?" she finished his sentence. "That's just his way of protecting himself, Blake. GW's feelings are all hidden but they’re there and they're very deep."

  "So, I guess you and he must be pretty close."

  "I thought so." She considered the words she spoke and shook her head. "No, I know so. He didn't mean anything by not mentioning to us that he knew the other. He was just having fun. He's a very special person, Blake. More than people realize. Most people see him as being some nerd brain trust and they make fun of him because−well, because he's different and smarter than them. But he's a lot more than that."

  "I agree."

  "I'm glad." She took his hand with a smile. "I shouldn't have blown up at him the way I did. I guess it was just all the stress of what's been going on. You and he being friends is really wonderful for me because next to you I guess I love him more than anyone else in my life aside from my family. We've had a lot of good and some kind of strange times together."

  "Like?"

  She laughed as she remembered. "Once, during our junior year, someone reported us to the apartment manager - something about us being different sexes, different races and living together. See, when GW first moved in with me we had a young woman as a manager and she never had a problem with us living together. But she got married and moved away and this older man took over and he was - well, he was very narrow-minded.

  “Anyway, he called and chewed me out and threatened to evict us. Apartments were hard to come by that close to campus and I didn't want to lose mine so I kind of said that GW wasn't a guy but a girl. That his name was Georgina Winifred We'zel but she usually went by her initials, GW."

  Blake smiled. "And the guy fell for it?"

  "Not exactly. He'd seen GW but he'd never really paid any attention to him. So, he said he'd come over and see for himself. GW was crashed out from an all-nighter at the computer lab and I ran in his room and pulled him out of bed and made him let me put makeup on him. We were all ready for the manager and when the doorbell rang GW threw the door open and there stood this girl he had been trying to get a date with for weeks. She took one look at him all decked out with eyeshadow, eyeliner and lipstick and literally ran. Needless to say, it took a lot of explaining from both of us to convince her that he wasn't a cross-dresser or something."

  "And what about the manager?"

  "Oh, him." Sydney laughed. "He came over and talked to GW and later he told me that my room-mate, Georgina seemed very nice but she was the ugliest girl he had ever seen."

  Blake laughed for a second then his laugh faded. "Uh, Syd−you and he haven't ever… you know."

  "No," she replied with a soft laugh. "Things have never been that way between us. We're more like computer nerd friends, brother and sister - that sort of thing. Why? Would it bother you if we had?"

  "I don't know, I guess not," he replied then winked at her. "I just like to know who my competition is."

  "You don't have any competition."

  "Not even from Adrian Zayne?"

  "Especially not from him. I love you, Blake. Completely and permanently. Nothing will change that."

  "I hope not. Syd, I really have misgivings about you being the inside man with Zayne. I've seen the way he looks at you. Do you really think you can handle it?"

  "I think I have to try," she said then searched his eyes. "But that's not all, is it? You're really wondering if I'll sleep with him."

  Blake looked down for a split second then met her eyes. "That thought did occur to me."

  "Blake, I don't want Adrian," she whispered softly. "Once, I thought I did – for about five seconds. But then my vision cleared and I saw him clearly and I no longer did. I only want you."

  "But what if he pushes it?"

  Sydney didn’t want to consider that so she pushed the thought from her mind and tried to reassure herself as she reassured Blake. "Then I guess I'll just have to have a permanent case of PMS."

  Blake made a face of mock horror. "Oh, no, not that!"

  She laughed and pulled his face to hers. "Just promise me that if I call for help you'll be the shining knight that comes to my rescue?"

  "You got it," he promised just before he claimed her with a kiss.

  "My hero." Sydney smiled at him as the kiss ended then stood. "Come on, let's go see what G . . . Weasel's up to."

  

  By two a.m. everyone was tired, almost to the point of being punchy. They’d gone over and every aspect of their plan, refining it and analyzing it in detail.

  Sydney told Blake and Weasel about Adrian showing up before they arrived. Blake was a little upset she hadn’t mentioned it earlier but tried not to make an issue out of it.

  As Weasel finished going over with Sydney things she should bring up in conversation with Adrian when she saw him next, Blake leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He felt like he needed to take a break to clear his head and fill his stomach which was growling.

  "Why don't we take a break and stretch our legs?"

  Weasel looked up from the keyboard that seemed to be attached to his fingertips and nodded. Sydney walked over to Blake, running her hands down his chest as she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "What did you have in mind?"

  Blake cleared his throat as Weasel's white teeth shown in the incandescence of the computer screen like a flash of ivory against the darkness of his skin.

  "I was thinking about taking a walk down to the diner and getting a bite to eat."

  Sydney straightened up with a mock pout on her face then winked at Weasel before she smiled at Blake. "Sounds like an excellent idea. Let me grab my purse."

  Weasel chuckled to himself as he logged off the computer and leaned back to stretch. "You buyin', lover boy?"

  Blake cut him a look and stood up. "I guess so, Georgina."

  "Georgina?" Weasel bounded to his feet and took off out of the room. "Syd!"

  Blake chuckled to himself as he started down the hall, listening to Weasel asking Sydney just what all she had told Blake and her insisting that she only told him that one thing, then Weasel threatening to tell some of her old secrets. Blake shook his head and herded them toward t
he door. Working with the two of them could prove to be very interesting.

  They walked the four blocks to the diner with Weasel telling a story about Syd that she was not eager for him to tell.

  "So, picture this." Weasel held his hands up like he was framing a shot for a video. "Here's Syd, all dolled up like something out of Sports Illustrated's Swimwear Issue, determined to impress this jock that she had talked into going with us."

  "I was not all dolled up!" she argued.

  Weasel rolled his eyes and gave Blake a look. "Man, she was looking fierce. Anyway, we get off the bus at the river and the guides tell us to divide up into eight per raft. Since there were twenty three of us, one raft was going to be shy. So, the jock jumps in the raft with his buddies and Syd shoves me over and we get in. We're paddling down−"

  "Do you have to tell this story?" Sydney interrupted him again.

  He ignored her and kept talking. "Like I said we were paddling along, having a good time. Syd was batting her eyes and flirting with the jock all morning. About an hour before lunch she suddenly gets this weird look on her face and scrambles to the back of the raft to whisper to the guide. He shakes his head and she looks like she's going to faint. I didn't know what was going on, but she was suddenly very quiet and subdued, sitting in the back and not saying a word. We went through one pretty decent rapid and the raft filled up with water. Only our water was red."

  Blake's eyes went from Weasel to Sydney and she just shook her head as Weasel continued. "You should have seen those guys. The jock looked at Syd and saw her seat full of blood and the raft full of bloody water and he just dove over the side. It didn't take long for the others to follow him. Syd looked like she wanted to die and I just sat there thinking to myself whether I should bail with the rest of the men or hang with her."

  "And what did you do?"

  "He bailed," Sydney answered.

  Blake put his arm around her shoulder. "Sounds pretty embarrassing."

  "You can't begin to imagine," she muttered, and gave Weasel a scornful look. "And it looks like I'm going to be forced to remember it the rest of my life."

  He shrugged as if unaffected by her look. "Well, what can I say? It's a true story."

  "So what happened with the jock?" Blake asked.

  Sydney and Weasel both burst out laughing and he looked at them curiously. "Believe it or not, today he's a gynecologist," she said between giggles.

  Blake smiled and shook his head as he opened the door of the diner for her. They entered and as Sydney led the way to an empty booth Blake made a mental note of everyone in the place and were they were sitting.

  An old man wearing a blue uniform shirt like that of a factory worker sat at the bar sipping a cup of coffee. The man's face seemed vaguely familiar, but Blake couldn’t place him. It was the kind of face you see in passing but never bother to learn the name.

  A young couple sat in one of the middle booths, looking through a stack of brochures. Tourists, no doubt, he thought as his eyes passed over them to a man in the back booth that piqued his interest. The man was like the loner most people have seen from time to time; dressed in dark clothing and wearing a face built of sharp angles that had been etched with deep lines by the dark forces of life.

  "Blake!" A voice drew his attention away from his moment of suspicion.

  He turned toward the slight blond woman with the bright smile and sparking eyes as she moved over to him. "It's about time you showed up. Where've you been hiding, stranger?"

  The events of the past few days melted into the background as he smiled down at Bonnie, drawing in the good feelings that always emanated from her in strong waves.

  "Been away on business. How's my girl?"

  "Oh, you know." She waved her hand. "It's the same ol' story - one of my girls quit to move back home and now I'm shorthanded."

  "You're always short-handed, Bonnie," he commented in a friendly tone as he slid into a booth beside Sydney. "And yet you always manage to fix the best breakfast in Washington - not to mention the best cup of coffee I've ever tasted."

  "Still the same flirt," Bonnie laughed. "And it still won't work, handsome. You still pay full price. So, what'll you have?"

  "My usual," he replied and looked at Sydney.

  "Coffee, please," she said with a smile.

  "Same here," Weasel added.

  Bonnie moved away to get their drinks and Weasel took the opportunity to look at the menu. When she returned with their coffee, Bonnie was not hesitant to speak up about Blake's companions. "So, you going to introduce me to your friends, or do I have to do it myself?"

  "Oh! I'm sorry!" he apologized immediately. "Bonnie, this is doctor Sydney Forrest and George Washington Weasel."

  "Weasel!?!" Weasel squawked indignantly and turned to Bonnie with a regal nod. "It's We'zel, madam," he pronounced his name correctly so that it sounded like Weh-zell with the emphasis on the last syllable. "And it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. And please, call me GW."

  Bonnie smiled at him as his face lit up in a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Nice to meet you, GW." She looked over at Sydney. "Doctor, eh?” Then she gave Blake that look that mothers often give their sons when they finally bring home a girl the mother likes. "So, what can I get you two?"

  "I'll have scrambled eggs with cheese and an order of toast," Sydney replied. Weasel ordered one of almost everything and Bonnie left to fill their order.

  As Weasel and Sydney got into a discussion about Weasel's meat intake Blake let his mind wander over all the things they’d discussed.

  The man in the blue work shirt sitting at the bar threw down a dollar and got up to move to the register. Bonnie hurried down the counter to take his money and Blake dug his fingers into his eyes. They felt like they were full of sand.

  In the recesses of his mind he heard the sound of the register drawer opening. Sudden tension gripped him as he opened his eyes and saw the expression on Weasel's face. From that point on, everything seemed to move in slow motion, even though in reality it took only a matter of seconds.

  Sydney lifted her coffee cup to put a paper napkin under it, unaware of any danger. Blake looked up at the window behind Weasel's head and saw a reflected view of the man who had been sitting at the back of the diner now. He now held an assault rifle. How had he gotten that into the diner without notice? The long baggy coat?

  On instinct, Blake reached for his weapon, only to come to the bleak realization that he didn’r have it with him. Weasel's facial expression changed from one of surprise to one of cold calculating composure.

  "He's carrying an AK47, basic version with a fixed wooden stock. Gas operated, it’ll fire at a rate of 600 rounds per minute and is equipped with a 30-round magazine. Normal male reaction time is a little over two seconds."

  Blake heard Weasel's words as he gauged the distance between himself and the gunman. It was too far travel. He would never make it before the gunman reacted. Therefore, a straight-forward assault was out of the question.

  He picked up his coffee cup and stood. "Bonnie, I'm going to get more coffee," he stated loudly.

  "Hey man, sit your ass down!" The man wielding the gun shouted. "This is a hold-up!"

  Blake pretended to be surprised; throwing his mouth open and widening his eyes as he let his coffee cup drop to the floor. The gunman's eyes flickered momentarily to the cup and Blake made his move. Unfortunately, he was a moment too slow.

  Bonnie, however, was not. As the gunman caught Blake with the butt of his weapon, Bonnie whacked him a solid blow to the head with her big iron skillet.

  The gunman hit the ground with a thump. The eggs that had been frying in the pan when the pan became a weapon sailed several feet into the air and plopped down right on top of Weasel's head. The uncooked yolks exploded, splattering Sydney and filling Weasel's dark curls.

  Sydney jumped up and ran to Blake who was holding his ribs as he picked up the weapon from the floor. "Are you okay?" She pulled his hand away from his ribs and
started feeling him for broken bones.

  "I'll make it." His voice was less strong than he would have liked. He made himself straighten and look around at Bonnie who was still standing above the gunman with the frying pan in her hands. "Nice work. Ever considered a job in law enforcement?"

  "Naw." She smiled and lowered the pan. "Too boring. Okay." She looked around at the waitress who was peeking over the counter with wide eyes. "Let's get moving. We have customer's to serve."

  She gave Blake a wink and he smiled. "You have anything we can use to tie this guy up, just in case he comes around before the police get here?"

  "Won't catch me wasting anything on scum like that," she commented then pointed to the man's dirty sneakers. "Use his shoe strings."

  Blake knelt down and quickly unlaced the man's shoes. After he had fastened the man's hands behind his back securely and tied his ankles together he stood, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs.

  Sydney knelt down beside the gunman as Blake placed a call to the city police. "Blake?" she looked up at him. "You better have them send an ambulance. He's bleeding pretty badly."

  Blake relayed the request then escorted Sydney back to the booth where Weasel was mopping egg off his head. He had to laugh as he looked at Weasel and Weasel looked up at him with a scowl. "Does everyone who goes out with you have so much fun?"

  "Nope, just my special friends," Blake replied with a laugh as he slid into the booth after Sydney. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving!"

  Sydney and Weasel looked at one another then at Blake. For a moment neither one of them said a word then Sydney shook her head and spoke teasingly. "You know, Blake, maybe we should enlist Bonnie's help on this little project. She might come in handy if one of us needs protection."

  Blake rolled his eyes as Weasel laughed.

  Friday, April 21, 1995

  Washington, D.C.

  Sydney rolled over, fumbling for the clock as the shrill, persistent beep shattered the silence. "What time is it?" Blake asked as she rolled back over next to him.

  "Five, thirty," she said with a yawn.