by Don Easton
Dedicated to Mike, Akiyo, Steve, Kelly, and Ava
Chapter One
“Have you had sex yet with Mr. and Mrs. Rolstad? Or either one, for that matter?”
Mia Parker fidgeted with her purse strap on the table beside her and cast her eyes around the hotel room. They were in Richmond, a large city that bordered Vancouver, and the room was a dayroom rented at the last moment to protect them against any electronic surveillance.
Normally their meetings were brief and took place in a parkade or city park, but today was different. The use of the hotel room made her feel that this would be more of an interrogation than a quick exchange of information.
She was not surprised that this was the first question her secret contact — or case officer as he was known in the trade — asked. She had correctly guessed that the meeting was to analyze her lack of success.
She felt the subtle brush of his knee against her knee, prodding her for a response. Mr. Frank, who was an expert at interrogation, sat in a chair drawn up facing her chair. His eyes locked on hers and she consciously steeled herself not to be intimidated by his hard, cold stare.
She knew him as Mr. Frank, but suspected that was not his real name. He was a head taller than her and had an athletic build and a pockmarked face. She guessed he was twenty years older than her, putting his age at forty-eight. Today he wore a pale green suit with a tie that had yellow daffodils imprinted upon it. Suitable for the first day of spring, she thought, before realizing her brain was deliberately avoiding the subject matter.
“Your hesitancy to answer tells me you have not,” said Mr. Frank, flatly. “Therefore the question remains, why not?”
Mia smiled apologetically. “The right opportunity has not presented itself.”
“The right opportunity?” scoffed Mr. Frank. “You’ve lived in their basement suite for eight months. I would have thought you would have had plenty of opportunity?”
“I need to correlate opportunity with trust. There are other issues. I’m not certain if Mrs. Rolstad could be cajoled into such a relationship.”
“You have told me that she is extremely insecure and prone to be a follower, rather than a thinker. I’m guessing you could convince her to experiment in that department.”
“I admit she has confided in me that she is perplexed at her husband’s lack of desire with her, but that does not mean she is ready to enter into the type of relationship you mention.”
“Perhaps her husband is bored with her. He, at least, should be easy to seduce.”
“There is no indication that Mr. Rolstad is not loyal to his wife. For an intimate relationship to develop as the benefactor desires, it may take longer than —”
“Please, do not insult my intelligence, or that of the benefactor,” said Mr. Frank. “Today, Mr. Rolstad has his fortieth birthday. His wife is eight years younger. They are both attractive people, yet we know from their medical records that they have been having sexual problems for a year. His doctor prescribed Viagra, but a lack of renewed prescriptions indicates that he is not taking it. Going by what his wife has told you, there is something wrong.”
“There has to be desire to start with, otherwise Viagra will not work,” noted Mia.
“Their therapist believed it was simply stress-related,” persisted Mr. Frank.
“He does appear to be under a great deal of stress,” Mia agreed. “With his position in Maple Leaf Consulting, he travels constantly back and forth to their office in Ottawa. Combined with his lack of performance in the bedroom with his wife … it serves to add to his stress, creating a downward spiral.”
“Yes, yes, but we both know that sex is also a release for stress.” He leaned back and looked down at the open-toed heels that Mia was wearing, before letting his eyes drift up her slim white slacks to her waist. Mia nervously crossed her legs and his eyes lingered over the ample cleavage of her breasts that protruded from her red satin blouse before making eye contact again. He saw that she blushed. “You are an extraordinarily beautiful woman who has poise and charm. Are you telling me that Mr. Rolstad has not cast his eyes upon you with desire?”
Mia paused. She knew she was beautiful. Her father was of English heritage. She was only three years old when he died in a hit-and-run car accident while crossing the street, but her mother had several pictures of him. She knew he was tall, good-looking, and had red hair. She felt anger with the knowledge of what her mother had told her about the accident. The police knew who did it, but never laid a charge due to political influence.
Mia’s mother was of Chinese heritage and Mia, who was their only child, had physical qualities from both parents. She was slightly taller than most women and had long black hair that glistened with crimson highlights in the sunlight. Her skin was slightly darker than most Caucasians and a hint of Asian qualities around her eyes gave her an exotic appearance. She was well aware that men stared longingly after her. Mr. Rolstad was no exception.
“I am waiting,” prodded Mr. Frank.
“Yes, on a biological level, he desires me,” admitted Mia. “However, a quick dalliance may well backfire. It could cause guilt, leading him to reject me from his circle and therefore put our primary objective at risk. I need to build trust and not come across like some call girl in the night.”
Mr. Frank nodded thoughtfully. “They quit going to their therapist two months after you moved in. I take it they appreciate that you received your master’s in psychology before switching over to political science?”
“Yes and no.” Mia frowned. “Mrs. Rolstad has opened up to me completely, but Mr. Rolstad has been hesitant to confide in me, which is not unusual. To achieve our aim, I need to have his complete confidence as well.”
“I would think his concern about his marriage would grow with every passing day. Mrs. Rolstad is younger … a trophy wife … he must worry that she will find a lover. She, too, must feel abandoned and frustrated.”
“She does. She still works three days a week for her husband’s office in Vancouver and the occasional weekend when he is away.” Mia’s face brightened and she added, “Which reminds me, last Saturday I went to the office with her for an hour before we went out for lunch.”
“Did you have time to install the latest software?”
“Yes, I told her I wanted to go online to check my test results from university. It only took a minute.”
“Good.”
“She has also been spending more time volunteering with different charity organizations.”
“A sign that she is unhappy?”
“She isn’t happy, but the charity work could simply be a way to bring in new business.”
“I thought their frequent house parties were for that.”
“That, too, but I think the real reason she is unhappy is because she wants to have children … something he has now decided he does not want.”
Mr. Frank shrugged indifferently. “How many people will be attending the party tonight?”
“Mrs. Rolstad indicated about thirty, but she was not forthcoming with the names.”
“You reported that at Christmas the Rolstads indulged in cocaine for the first time.”
“Yes, they smoke pot a couple times a month, but cocaine was something new for them. I think using cocaine is a manifestation of the stress they are under.”
“Interesting they would do that, when the psychological profile we have indicates they consider themselves intellectuals. He, too, has a degree in psychology, albeit not a master’s.”
“I think it is part of trying to bring back their youth and regain their vitality. Despite being self-centred, they are both insecure and work hard to maintain an image of being hip, modern, and fun.”
Mr. Frank opened an attaché case and handed Mia a small pap
er bag. “Take what is inside the bag and put it in your purse,” he ordered.
Mia pulled a plastic baggie out and saw that it contained numerous small folds of paper. “Cocaine?” she asked.
Mr. Frank nodded. “Twenty-eight grams.”
Mia saw that there was a second baggie and glanced at Mr. Frank.
“Take it as well,” he ordered.
“That’s a lot for me to be carrying!” exclaimed Mia. “Don’t you think it is a mistake to —”
“I don’t make mistakes,” said Mr. Frank, arrogantly.
“But —”
“Relax. Do you think the benefactor would send a fool to look after you?”
“No, of course not. It’s just —”
“It’s not like we can see each other often. Besides, who knows who else will attend the party. There may be someone worthy of attention.”
“What’s in it?” asked Mia, reaching for the next baggie.
“Ecstasy,” said Mr. Frank.
“They have never used that before,” said Mia.
“Maybe they should. For some, I hear it promotes sexual stimulation while removing inhibition.”
“I don’t know if they will take it, but I’ll see,” said Mia, putting the drugs in her purse.
“Then don’t ask them,” said Mr. Frank firmly. “See that they get it. Tonight will be the ideal time. When the guests leave, give Mr. Rolstad the birthday present you know he longs for.”
“I still don’t feel it is necessary,” said Mia. “We have the computers to —”
Mr. Frank gave a loud clap of his hands in front of Mia’s face and she jerked back. “We have been over this before!”
Mia swallowed, then nodded quietly.
The anger disappeared from Mr. Frank’s face and he patted her knee. “You know they will confide in you more about their client’s behaviour if they indulge in similar behaviour with you. Things that are not written in any of their internal reports. Do not tell me it is not a wise move. You may have your master’s in psychology, but are you going to sit there and tell me you are more knowledgeable than the benefactor?”
“No, of course not,” replied Mia, shaking her head. “But there is the trust issue. Like I said, it could cause guilt and —”
She felt both his knees touch hers as he leaned in close to her face. “Is building trust the real reason for the delay, or could it be something else?” he asked.
“Such as?” questioned Mia, forcing herself to remain erect and not cower back.
“Your own embarrassment of having to play such a role.”
Mia stared back, then sighed and looked away. “Yes, I admit that to perform such a role causes me anguish. I know sex or love are important tools, but I’ve never used either before for such a purpose.”
“You have been trained on ways to facilitate such action.”
“Being told what I should do and actually doing it are two different things.”
Mr. Frank nodded, appearing sympathetic. “When the moment comes, put your mind elsewhere. Close your eyes and pretend you are with your boyfriend.”
“I do not have a boyfriend.” Mia said with a shrug.
“Oh? What about Pat Harris? The benefactor tells me you’ve been seeing him regularly.”
“Pat Harris! Are you kidding me? He’s only a friend I’m helping tutor.” Mia stared at Mr. Frank and tried not to let sarcasm enter her voice. “Perhaps you should let the benefactor know he is gay.”
“I see.”
She felt bitter when she realized the benefactor knew that she had been seeing someone. Am I being watched at university? They wouldn’t waste an asset for that. It could even risk exposing me. Then it struck her. I’ve been contacting Harris with my laptop …
Mr. Frank interrupted her thoughts. “The point is, you’ve had boyfriends that you were intimate with. In your mind, pick one of them.”
Mia folded her arms across her chest and stared at the bright-red nail polish on her toes.
Mr. Frank shook his head. “You need to learn to relax. I know it is difficult for you.” He glanced at his watch and said, “There is plenty of time before the party starts. Sit for a moment.”
Mia waited as Mr. Frank went to the washroom. She heard the sound of ice in the sink, and when he returned he had a glass of wine in each hand.
“It’s early yet,” protested Mia. “I have to be alert for tonight.”
“Drink it,” ordered Mr. Frank. “One glass will help you relax. As nervous as you appear, they would suspect something is wrong.”
Mia nodded and accepted the glass with both hands. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Up until today her role for the benefactor had seemed exciting and glamorous. It was like being in a movie. What she was being told to do now was different. Far from glamorous … it is deceitful and dirty … but apparently necessary …
Mr. Frank smiled as he raised his glass in a toast. Time to see what effect ecstasy has on you …
Chapter Two
Nancy Brighton sat in her overstuffed leather chair looking out the front window of her house while petting her dog on her lap. She paused to massage an ache in her leg that was the result of recent surgery for a knee replacement. Except for her knee, she felt spry and in good shape. Or as good of shape as could be expected for someone who was seventy-five years old.
“Toby! Hush!” ordered Nancy, as her terrier let out a few yips when her phone rang. She leaned over to the end table. The call display told her it was Betty.
“Hey, little sister, where are you?” asked Nancy, as she cradled the phone to her face with her shoulder while adjusting Toby on her lap.
“No room on your street, so I’m parking in the grocery store lot. Be at your place in five minutes. Are you sure you don’t need anything? I always feel guilty using their lot if I don’t buy something.”
“How about two cans of tonic and a lime? I’ll pour you a stiff one when you arrive.”
“Make me a stiff one? Don’t get me started.”
Nancy grinned as she hung up. Minutes later, she saw Betty walking up the sidewalk carrying a plastic bag. She eyed Toby and said, “Toby, we have company. Front door, boy! Front door!”
Toby immediately started barking, then leaped from her lap and ran to the front door. Nancy glanced at her cane, then decided against it and hobbled to the front door and opened it. Toby immediately ran out to greet Betty, who had turned up the stone pathway that cut across the front lawn to her house. The pathway was bordered on both sides by rhododendrons and Toby ran circles around one of them as he enjoyed his freedom.
“Toby! Come back here!” demanded Nancy.
After leaving the rhododendrons and doing a couple more circles around Betty, Toby obediently obeyed.
“Hey there, sis, good to see you,” said Nancy.
“You, too,” replied Betty, giving her sister a hug, before glancing back at the stone path. “More blooms are out on your rhodos. They look beautiful.”
“Yes,” replied Nancy, wistfully. “Wish Burt were still here to see them.”
“Do you ever think of selling? Being hemmed in by all these apartment buildings, not to mention the traffic and having to look after the place by yourself … it must be a lot of work. I bet you could get a really good price.”
“Realtors are always knocking on my door, but I’m not ready yet.”
Betty stooped to pat Toby as she continued to talk. “How’s the new knee working out? Not using your cane, I see.”
“I keep it close, but I’m getting better. You won’t have to babysit me much longer. I know what the traffic is like in Vancouver this time of day. I should be paying you for gas.”
“Forget it. Hell, coming into Richmond is nothing.” She stood and glanced at Nancy’s leg. “Are you still in pain?”
“Not bad. I’ve cut back on the pills. Probably should have had both knees done. The worst part is that it makes me feel old.”
“You’ll be seventy-six next month.”
&
nbsp; “You’re only a year behind me, so don’t rub it in. Besides, you’re only as old as you feel.”
“I thought it was you only feel as old as who you feel.”
“Betty Donahue! What would mom say if she were alive to hear you talk like that?”
“Probably laugh,” replied Betty.
Nancy smiled. “Bet you’re right. Come on in. There’s some gin in the cupboard to the left of the fridge.”
“I know where it is. You sit. I’ll make them. Should I walk Toby first? After a few snorts I may not be able to.”
“No, do it later. Let’s visit first.”
“Later? Hell, by then I might be blind drunk and stumbling around looking for a taxi.”
“Perfect. It would be a good opportunity to see if Toby will make a good seeing-eye dog before I do get old.”
Mia went to use the washroom and Mr. Frank leaned forward in the chair and took the opportunity to refill her wine, but when she came back she reached for her purse to leave.
Mr. Frank grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? We’re not done.”
“Aren’t we?” she replied, pulling back. “You have more questions … or instructions?”
“I need to get you to relax. You’re still too nervous.”
“I’m fine … actually that is not entirely true,” she added glancing at the wine bottle. “I feel strange … sort of tingly.” She turned back to Mr. Frank and said confidently, “Don’t worry, I will do what is expected.”
“Strange? Tingly?” replied Mr. Frank. “Your nervousness is manifesting itself.” He stood up and held her glass of wine towards her. “You’re far too uptight. Drink this before you go.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“I can see that you’re not. We need to roleplay. Close your eyes and pretend that I am Mr. Rolstad. I want your response to appear natural,” he said, putting his other hand around her waist and pulling her toward him.
“That will not be necessary,” replied Mia, trying to pull away.
Mr. Frank held her tighter. “Have some more wine,” he urged.
