by Mike Ryan
“Maybe so.”
“Is it because you miss Mia?”
“Well I do miss her. But as far as I know she’s still with whats-his-name.”
“Josh.”
“Yeah.”
“So why haven’t you established contacts here like you did in Philadelphia?”
“To try and avoid the personal entanglements,” Recker said.
“Well I can understand such an approach in terms of pretty female friends, but what about people like Tyrell, Vincent, Jeremiah? You haven’t met any of those types here.”
“I don’t know. Just didn’t care as much this time I guess.”
“I wonder how Tyrell is,” Jones said. “He grew on me.”
“I talked to him about a month ago. He said he’s doing all right.”
“Did you tell him where we were?”
“No. He asked, and he wondered when we’d be back, but I didn’t say.”
As Recker sat there, Jones could tell his mind started drifting away to other things. The professor kept talking but Recker wasn’t responding. It was clear to him Recker wasn’t ignoring him, as the blank stare on his face was an indication his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Mike? What is it?”
Recker snapped out of his stare and looked over at his partner without saying a word. He just looked at him for a few moments as if he was still thinking.
“You said we couldn’t go back to Philly because of the CIA,” Recker said.
“Yes?”
“What if we could?”
“I’m sure there’s a point in there somewhere though I can’t seem to find it.”
“If we could be assured the CIA isn’t on my trail anymore, would you consider going back?”
“I suppose, theoretically, I would think about it,” Jones said. “I don’t know how you would go about getting such an assurance though.”
“Only way I know of is to ask.”
“Now you’re just talking crazy.”
“Lawson. If I could talk to her again I could find out.”
“And how do you propose on doing that?”
“If I can get a message to her I can find out whether I’m still in the CIA crosshairs.”
“Seems risky,” Jones said.
“I think I can trust her. She easily could’ve killed me before.”
“What makes you think she wouldn’t try it the second time?”
“Faith.”
“Faith? Since when was faith a word you employed?” Jones said.
“Gotta start sometime, right?”
“I’m not sure I’m on board with this plan of yours. We’ve successfully gotten away from the CIA, away from the police pressure in Philadelphia, we’ve started over, and you want to ignore it all and go back to it. There’s just no logic to it.”
“I never said I was logical.”
Knowing he wasn’t likely to talk his friend out of whatever was floating around inside his mind, Jones threw his hands up in defeat. “Do as you wish. I know you’re probably not going to change your mind.”
“I don’t think it’ll hurt just to have a conversation with her,” Recker said.
“And like I said, I think you’re just talking crazy.”
2
It’d been a couple days since Recker had talked about reconnecting with Michelle Lawson and Jones had hoped he’d given up on the idea. The professor was mistaken, though, and disappointed when one morning Recker came into the office looking for one of his burner phones. Recker rifled through one of the desk drawers until he pulled one out.
“This one good?” Recker asked.
“They’re all good, Michael.”
“Well, not traceable, right?”
Jones stopped typing and looked at his partner with a strange face, not believing he actually asked the question. “Do you really believe I would have a traceable phone?”
“I’m just making sure.”
“Can I ask what you’re planning on doing with it?”
“I think you already know the answer,” Recker said.
“That’s what I was afraid of. You’re really planning on calling her?”
“Why not? Don’t you think it’s worth knowing if they’re going to keep on pursuing me or whether they’ve got other fish to fry? The worst she can say is I’m still on their radar.”
“Assuming she’s going to tell you the truth,” Jones said.
“I think she will.”
“And how do you plan on getting on touch with her? Do you have her number in your little black book?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I don’t have a little black book. I’ll find her the easiest way possible. I’ll call up the agency and ask for her.”
Recker immediately called the agency’s main number, and while he knew it was unlikely he’d be connected to her right away, he left a message for her.
“Just tell her John Smith would like to speak with her. She’ll know who I am.”
Recker left a callback number and tossed the phone down on the desk.
“When do you think you’ll hear back from her?” Jones said. “Assuming you do?”
“She’ll call back. Even if it’s just out of curiosity. I’d expect it to be pretty quick.”
The call came even quicker than Recker expected. His phone rang about thirty minutes after leaving the message for Lawson. Recker and Jones looked at each other as they heard the ringer go off, neither expecting it to be quite so soon. Jones didn’t appear to be pleased the call was being returned at all and began squirming in his seat as he anticipated the contents of the conversation. Recker walked over to the phone, and after the fourth ring, finally picked up.
“You’re faster than I anticipated,” Recker said. “I wasn’t expecting you to call for a little while yet.”
“Well, when a rogue super-agent who’s missing for several years leaves me a message, I usually assume it’s urgent,” Lawson said.
“Fair enough. I was hoping to have another discussion with you.”
“Seems like we are, doesn’t it?”
“How ‘bout we do it in person? Phones have more ways of being traced than most people realize.”
“Where and when?”
“How ‘bout tomorrow, say noon?”
“I think I can manage that. Where?”
“Are you still in New York?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a pizza joint on eighth called Anthony’s. I’ll be inside in one of the booths waiting for you,” Recker said.
“Can’t make it at a park or something?”
“Too public. I wouldn’t want to meet another of those treacherous darts you used like last time in case I’ve misjudged you.”
“I guess I could go for a slice anyway.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Recker put the phone down on the desk and kept his hand on it as he looked at the wall, deep in thought. Jones watched him for a few moments, waiting for him to reveal his plans in more detail. Though Jones overheard the parts of the conversation he most needed, he still assumed there was more to it. After several minutes ticked by, he tired of waiting,
“Are you going to share the gist of the conversation with me?”
“Weren’t you listening?” Recker said.
“Yes, but all I got out of it was that you’re meeting her in New York tomorrow at noon at a pizza place called Anthony’s.”
“That’s all there was.”
“How do you know this is a good spot to meet?”
“I’ve been there before. When I worked in Centurion, I visited the place a few times for business purposes. It’s a busy place, people going in and out all the time. Plus, there’s a back door.”
“That doesn’t really make it any better than meeting out in the open,” Jones said. “All that means is that after your meeting is over, that there could be people waiting for you outside. It doesn’t really change anything.”
“You’re right. But don’t you think it’d be nic
e to know if I still have to look over my shoulder?”
“Yes, it would be. But I don’t know if the risks outweigh the potential rewards.”
“David, I just don’t want to keep staying here, wondering if they’re coming in another six months. I want to know. And if it means they take me for good this time...well, I guess it’s better to just get it over with.”
A peculiar look came over Jones’ face, worried about his friend’s mental condition. Considering Recker was the ultimate survivor, a fighter, someone who never quit, to hear him talk about getting it over with was somewhat alarming. Recker walked over to a computer and started figuring out his itinerary. It was over six hundred miles to go along with a nine-hour drive to head back to New York. It’d be the first time Recker set foot in New York since his time at Centurion ended. He thought back to a few of the meetings he’d previously had at Anthony’s Pizza, where he gleaned information for an upcoming assignment from confidential sources. Though he knew Jones had a valid point about walking into trouble once he left the restaurant, it wasn’t totally accurate. One of the reasons Recker picked Anthony’s was because of his history there. Recker got to know the owner of the joint and knew that through the kitchen was a door leading to an upstairs office. From the office was a fire escape leading to the roof and the businesses attached to it. He’d gotten in trouble there once before with some people who weren’t what they appeared to be and had to use the route as an escape path. It was one of the reasons Recker befriended the owner, though he led him to believe he was an undercover FBI agent, since CIA operatives were not supposed to conduct operations within United States borders. It was always a good idea to make friends in places you might have to make a quick and unexpected exit out of.
“When do you plan to start this trek of yours?” Jones asked.
“Well, if I leave by one, then I should get there about ten or so. Should be enough time if I don’t hit traffic.”
“Do you not plan on sleeping?”
“I figured I’d knock off a little early tonight. If I go to bed around eight or nine, it’ll give me three or four hours. That’s enough,” Recker said. “Think you can hold down the fort for a day until I get back?”
Jones faked a smile. “I’m sure I can manage.”
The rest of their day went by without incident or any issues needing immediate attention. That enabled Recker to enact his plan by leaving the office at eight o’clock to get a few hours of sleep before his big meeting. Right on time, he woke up after a three-hour sleep and left at 1am. Jones didn’t get much sleep either, spending most of the night tossing and turning as he worried whether Recker was making a mistake and walking into another trap. He probably wouldn’t feel at ease until his partner texted or called to let him know the meeting was over, or what was more likely, when Recker was back in Michigan.
Recker arrived in New York a few minutes after ten and spent an hour driving around the city. Just being back there after such a long time away felt soothing to him. Until he made his way to Philadelphia, he’d always considered New York home, though for different reasons than how he considered Philly. It’s where the Centurion offices were and he often stayed there between missions, at least before he met Carrie. Cruising around the streets, it almost felt like he’d never left. He remembered the street names, the buildings, the businesses scattered throughout the city, it actually seemed therapeutic for him. After reminiscing to his satisfaction for a while, Recker finally wound up at Anthony’s at 11:30. One of his personal rules was to always be first at a meeting, just in case shenanigans were about to happen. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped where he arrived to a conference later than whoever he was meeting, but when he was able to, he liked to scout around ahead of time. Walking into Anthony’s, the place hadn’t changed in the time he’d been gone. The tables, the counters, the menus, even the pictures on the wall. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered them. The place was starting to fill up, but Recker saw an open booth near the back of the establishment against the far wall. He’d no sooner sat down when he heard someone shout his name. Well, his former name anyway.
“John!” a man shouted.
Recker took a sharp look to his left and saw Anthony, the shop’s owner, with a big smile on his face and walking toward his table. The two shook hands as Recker greeted his acquaintance, who sat down across from him.
“I was sure I’d never see you again,” Anthony said, almost in disbelief now Smith was there again in his restaurant.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it’s been what, three, four years?”
“Yeah, about that.”
“Well you’re looking good. Where you been all this time?”
“I’ve been all over. Overseas, Philly, Michigan, spent some time in Ohio, they’re running me ragged.”
“What are you doing back in town? Here to stay?”
“Got a meeting here in a little bit. Figured I’d do it in the best pizza shop in town,” Recker said, smiling.
“Hey, you know it. You want a slice and a Coke?”
“That’s an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“My man, I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Anthony brought back two slices of pizza and a soda for his guest. The owner sat down so they could continue their conversation as his guest ate. Recker nodded his head, looking satisfied as he quickly downed the first piece of pizza.
“I’ve missed this,” Recker said.
“How could you not miss the best pizza in town?” Anthony asked, laughing.
“You still have the office upstairs?”
“Yeah. Why? You gonna be needing it?”
“Ahh, you never know. I don’t think so, but it’s good to know it’s there if the need arises.”
“Some things never change, huh? I’ll make sure the entrance by the kitchen’s unlocked for you just in case.”
“I appreciate it.”
The two talked for a few more minutes before Anthony left, attending to other customers. The counter was starting to get busy. Recker finished his last remaining slice as he waited for his counterpart to arrive. He didn’t have long to wait. He pulled out his phone to look at the time. It was 11:55. He took a quick look around the restaurant and saw a familiar face coming through the front doors. Lawson also liked to arrive ahead of schedule, just not as early as Recker. She stood near the counter as she looked around, not yet seeing Recker near the back. He took a deep sigh before revealing himself, just in case it was his last taste of freedom for a while. After a few more seconds, Recker stood up in front of his table in order for Lawson to see him. Once they locked eyes, she hesitated and looked away for a moment. She ordered a slice before walking over. Recker remained standing until she found her way to his table, not sitting down until she did as well. Lawson put a file folder down on the table as she nestled into the booth.
“Thanks for coming,” Recker said.
“I haven’t had a good piece of pizza in a while,” she said, smiling. “So, what’s this about?”
“A few things I guess. How’d you make out with the mess we left back in Philly?”
“Davenport’s been fired and will never hold a government position again.”
“And Agent 17?”
“It was wrapped up to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“And John Smith?”
“His case was closed since he’s living a quiet life in Detroit.”
Recker’s mouth dropped open as he looked at her, surprised she knew where he was.
“Yes, we know where you are,” Lawson said.
“How?”
“A good secret intelligence agency doesn’t divulge their secrets.”
Recker snickered as he took a sip of his soda.
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Lawson asked.
“What makes you think I’m worried about anything?”
“Well I assume it’s not because you decided to take me up on my job offer. You wouldn’t have
requested this meeting if you were.”
“You’re smart.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to hear it sometimes.”
“I guess I just wanted to know if I was still on the radar.”
“Why? Figuring on blowing something up in Detroit?”
“Not yet. I guess I’m just getting tired of looking over my shoulder and wondering what’s coming,” Recker said.
“If you’re in the tunnel and seeing the light of an oncoming train, it isn’t gonna be us. You’re clear. Your case is closed, you’re not deemed a threat in any way to this agency or any other.”
“Is that only when you’re around?”
“No,” Lawson said, opening up the folder. She removed some documents and slid them across the table for Recker to look at.
The papers consisted of memos and reports about Recker. It had different communications from Lawson, Director Roberts, as well as a few others talking about their findings in regard to Recker. They all seemed to agree their time and efforts were better spent elsewhere. He was no longer deemed a security risk, or a threat. Lawson assumed he would have trouble believing it just coming from her mouth and figured bringing some proof would help soothe his mind a little.
“You’re free. You can go and do whatever you want without looking for us,” Lawson said.
“Even back to Philly?”
“Even back to Philly. If we really wanted you, we would’ve picked you back up again when you set foot in Detroit six months ago.”
“Are you really not going to tell me how you managed to figure out where I was?”
Lawson looked around, then leaned forward before spilling her secret. “You probably should’ve gotten a new car after our last encounter.”
Recker leaned back, with a peculiar look on his face, getting the hint. “No, I checked the car inside and out before I left.”
“You probably should’ve checked the license plate.”
“There’s nothing on the license plate, I looked.”
“You know the square little registration sticker in the corner? We replaced it with one which doubles as a GPS tracker,” Lawson said.
Recker smiled, realizing she got one over on him. “I must be slowing down in my old age.”
