by Robert Graf
"Yes," Ian replied in a tired voice. "Can we break this off? I have some things to do."
"Of course." Both agents stood. "You have our sympathy, and we hope your CEO recovers soon," Winslow said. They gathered their tablets and left.
Ian walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the Bay Bridge. Abruptly he turned. "Let's go to my office."
She followed him into the hallway to his office. He unlocked the door and ushered her in. She gazed around at the wood-paneled walls. Other than a digital frame showing a black and white bird, there were no personal effects, not even professional certificates. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, crammed full, bordered a double window that offered a view of the Embarcadero.
Ian dropped his tablet on his desk and slumped into a leather chair. He gestured to the wooden chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat. You didn't tell them. Why?"
She sat. "I was struggling with that when you got the call. It didn't feel right. Giving that information to the likes of the FBI bothers me. I know, they're on our side, but... We both know it’s the real reason for the attacks." She stared at him. "You didn't either, did you?"
"No. For one, Roger told me not to, for another, old habits die hard."
She started to get angry. "Wait a minute. Getting the bastards who murdered Craig and Ricardo and now Doug isn't enough?"
"Don't get huffy with me. You had the same choice." His expression softened. "I'm sorry. We're both under a lot of stress. When they find out we've withheld information we could be in a spot of trouble. I think there are two separate groups." He straightened up. "Is your priest going to stay for long? Roger vetoed my request for additional security for you. And when is your husband returning?"
Hooper's refusal just reinforced her sense of uselessness. "He's not my priest. In a couple days he heads back to Rome." Was she going? She suppressed that thread. "I forgot to tell you, Jon called from Houston. He told me NASA knows about fact checking, and he's leaving. His orders came direct from Hooper, same as me, but he didn’t know about Hooper getting shot."
"Bloody hell. Roger isn’t one to delegate when it comes to his pet projects."
"What happens now? You said the CFO is running things?"
"For now. The Board will decide how to proceed."
Wonderful. In the meantime what was she supposed to do? "Patel knows nothing about my discovery?"
Ian shook his head, his expression worried and tired. "I'm going to pretend ignorance, You can't." He grimaced. "Best to lay everything on Roger, anyway it's the truth."
She stood, resisting the urge to rub her butt. The chair was as uncomfortable as the one in the conference room. "I'm going home. Will you let me know what's happening?"
“Yes, Ann. Drive carefully; the forecast is rain for the next couple days."
Ian stared out his window. Fall days were the best in the City, none of that cold, miserable summer fog, fortunately that was months away. So, NASA knows. No telling what they'll do now the cat is truly out of the bag. He didn't want to face the fact that he had caused Doug’s death. He still smarted at Sheriff Sims’ tongue-lashing. He could only grovel, tell her what he knew and check on Roger and Doug. Fuckall he could do. They were secured in intensive care, and now Doug was dead.
He was finished at Global. Once Roger recovered, he'd submit his resignation, if he wasn't in jail. He had enough to live comfortably even if he were fired. As for Swales, it's payback time, but that had to wait. He sighed, getting too old for this shite. He returned to his desk to begin the unpleasant calls. It promised to be a long day.
[Monday, Petaluma]
Ann found Isaac on the living room sofa reading Principles of Quantum Mechanics. She took off her wet jacket and dropped it on the chair by the door. "Cramming for a test?"
"Hardly. It's embarrassing how much I've forgotten. So, how did the interview go?"
She sat on the end of the couch. "I didn't have anything to tell them."
He held her gaze. "You said nothing about your discovery?"
She looked away. "No. I couldn't make up my mind, and then Ian got a call; the guard, Doug, died. The interview was cut short."
"Oh, Ann. You have to get out of this place. Have you decided?"
She hated being pushed. "Yes, I'll go, but I need a day to get ready. You buying the tickets?"
"Let's check." He glanced at the wall clock. "I hope his Eminence is in his office." He stood. "I'll get my tablet."
She hadn't thought things through; events kept piling on, pushing her. She was reacting, yet what else could she do? She owed Alex a thorough explanation, and if he wouldn't understand? That would break her heart.
Isaac returned, booted his tablet and entered commands. "This is a secure satellite link the Church leases, still with NSA, who knows?" He motioned to Ann. "Sit closer."
She slid over, not quite touching. A window opened with the Vatican's crossed keys, followed by Cardinal Balsamo's hawkish features atop his black cassock.
"Brother Isaac, it's late, and I'm tired. Be brief."
"Yes, Your Eminence." He gestured to Ann. "Dr. Grey has accepted your offer, and we'll be leaving in a day or two. “
The Cardinal's face broke into a grim smile. "Excellent. Use the credit card for tickets, first class if you have to. I'll arrange for temporary quarters here."
"One other issue has arisen."
The smile vanished. "Yes?"
Isaac's face paled. "Dr. Grey would like you to make the same offer to her husband."
The fierce eyes turned on Ann. "Is that correct?"
He’s scary. "Yes. I fear he’s also in danger."
The Cardinal paused, thinking. "Where is your husband?"
She shrugged helplessly. "That's the problem. He left Houston and hasn't called." She hesitated. "He told me NASA knows about fact checking."
Balsamo’s eyes bored into her as if he could read her soul. "I see. You will come whether your husband wants to or not?"
"Yes."
"When he contacts you, you may tell him the same offer applies. Brother Isaac, let me know your schedule as soon as you have it." His image vanished.
"I'll try for tickets Wednesday,” Isaac said. “There's a daily nonstop to Rome; it leaves in the evening and arrives in the evening next day. Can you sleep on a plane? It doesn't bother me."
"I hate flying. I hate the security and the cost and being cooped up." She stood. "Nonstop sounds great, but get what you can. I've got to pack and get the place in shape to leave unoccupied."
He nodded, scrolling through websites for flight schedules.
She walked to her bedroom and closed the door. What do civilians wear in the Vatican? Another topic she needed to ask Isaac about. But first... She tapped Alex's code into her phone. Please let him be there.
His face appeared, squinting under his white hard hat. She could hear some sort of motor or equipment in the background. Relief flooded through her.
"Ann! I'm so glad you called. I was getting worried."
How to tell him? Don't lie. "Alex, I have to go to Italy for a few weeks."
"Italy? You never said anything about that."
"I told you there were problems at work, some I had no control over. Well, things have come to a head. You met my bodyguard. He's dead and my boss was shot and things have gone to hell." She blinked back her tears. "I want to be with you, but that's not possible right now. You'd be in too much danger."
His eyes widened. "My God, Ann. What have you gotten in to?"
"I can't tell you over this connection."
She could barely understand him over loud engine noises. "...hoped to see you soon. When are you going?"
Don't make it harder, please. "In a couple days. Don't try to contact me, it's for your own protection. I'll call when I get settled."
"You promise?"
Her feelings crystallized. "I promise, Alex, but I have to do this."
More engine noise drowned out his reply. "I missed that."
"I said I'll be here for you. Please be careful."
As careful as possible. "Save up your vacation time."
He laughed. "That I can do."
"Take care, Alex.” She dropped the phone on her bed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. You're not a school girl. So? He makes you feel good, and you will return. Enough. Start packing.
"I think that's it," Ann said. "Utilities are notified, mail canceled, clothes packed, fridge empty."
Isaac grinned. "Pizza tonight?"
The kitchen clock ticked over to 7:00. She shrugged. "Sure.” He was getting on her nerves. It wasn’t him, just the whole screwed-up situation. Italy was becoming a bad idea, but dead wasn't very appealing.
Her phone chirped, and she grabbed it.
Ian’s face popped up. "Ann, pack an overnight, Patel is sending you to Houston. The Jupiter ship had an accident, and NASA wants a rep on site."
Her stomach threatened to flip flop. "What happened?"
"NASA didn't say, just to get someone there ASAP. Your husband was supposed to be there, but we can't locate him. Has he contacted you?"
Oh, no. "Like I told you, he left, and I haven't heard anything since."
"He gave no hint about what he's doing?"
"No." Now she was really worried.
"No matter. I'm sending a car around, should arrive within the half-hour. You’ll take a helicopter from Petaluma to SFO and a chartered jet to Houston. Call when you get there. I'll have further information."
She put the phone down and stared at Isaac. "What a fucking mess. You heard?"
“Yeah. What are you going to do?"
"I have to go."
"What about the offer?"
"Don't nag me," she yelled.
He flinched. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I should leave."
She felt ashamed at her outburst. "I apologize. It seems as if everything's ganging up on me. You can stay the night, just lockup in the morning. I'll call from Houston once I know what's going on. Don't try to contact me."
"OK, Ann. I'll pray that everything turns out for the best."
She half-smiled. "Thank you for everything, Isaac. And thank the Cardinal."
"Arrivederci, Ann."
◆◆◆
The sound of the front door opening and closing woke Isaac from a troubled sleep. He lay still, his pulse racing. Who was it? Ann had left hours ago, and he was alone in bed in just his shorts and T-shirt. God, please don't let it be the bad guys. He quietly slipped out of bed and pulled on his trousers. The bedside clock showed 1:33.
A sudden line of bright light flared from under his bedroom door. "Ann, are you here?" a man called. "Ann?"
Oh, shit! It's her husband. This should prove interesting; he opened the bedroom door. "She's not here."
A tall, slender man, in a dark jacket and pants, with an unshaven thin face and too-long brown hair whirled to face him. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" His expression changed to a grim smile. "Okay, lover boy, where's Ann?"
Isaac’s temper threatened to explode. He'd never met her husband and just had the vaguest idea what he looked like from news photos. "Mr. Grey, I'm Brother Isaac Young of the Society of Jesus. I'm an old friend of your wife's, and she was kind enough to let me stay over as a house guest."
"Sure, and I'm the fucking tooth fairy. Now where is she, or I call the cops," he snarled, pulling out his phone. "Talk."
Isaac felt very un-Christian, yet he couldn't blame him. "She was called away to Houston last evening by a Mr. MacDougal."
The husband hesitated, unsure. "Why?"
"Something about the Jupiter ship having an accident."
Grey slipped his phone back in his pants pocket. "You might even be telling the truth. But get out, now."
"It's one thirty," Isaac protested. "I'll be gone in the morning."
"I don't give a shit. Leave or explain to the cops."
Cardinal Balsamo would be furious if he got arrested. "All right, I'm leaving. I'll have to get my car out of your garage."
"Fine, just do it." The husband watched while Isaac donned a shirt, crammed his few clothes, toiletries and tablet into his bag. He zipped it shut, strode through the kitchen and into the garage. "I'll laugh about this one day," he grumbled, backing out into the dark street. “And I really don't like her husband."
By the time he awoke a very annoyed night clerk and secured a room, it was two AM, eleven AM in Rome. He didn't know what to do; he was too tired to think. Call now? No, get some sleep.
[Tuesday, San Rafael]
Farid arranged for his evening escort to meet him at home. After a glass of wine and chitchat he’d decide whether to go out to dinner, then return for dessert or have dessert first. He loved the choices, so removed from his responsibilities at Global.
Since returning from Houston, he’d heard nothing about his next assignment, and that worried him. He’d taken the Engineering VP’s offer and spent the last several days at the Grand Canyon. What a magnificent panorama. And the women tourists had been more than willing to show him the sights.
At the doorbell's ding-dong, he switched off the TV, stepped across to the door and opened it. A slender brunette, a head shorter than him, clutching a black handbag, smiled up at him. Her black, knee-length coat didn't disguise her figure. "Farid? I'm Maria. May I come in?" she asked with a beguiling accent he didn't recognize.
He gazed at her. "Of course," he answered, stepping aside. He checked the sky, nearly dark and no rain. Maria, if that was her name, looked around at his living room —couch, coffee table, overstuffed chair and wall TV next to a wall-to-ceiling bookcase crammed full.
She smiled with limpid brown eyes. "You live simply, I like that." She removed her coat. "Where may I hang this?"
He took it, admiring the black sleeveless dress that emphasized her figure and hung the coat in the closet. When he returned she was seated on the couch, her dress hiked up over her knees. His breathing quickened. "Would you like a glass of wine? I have a nice Pinot Noir and a Chardonnay."
"The Pinot, please."
He stepped into the kitchen and poured two glasses of the Pinot. Hana wouldn't approve, but Hana wasn't there. Back in the living room he handed Maria a glass and sat next to her. She gave off the faintest whiff of lilacs which he approved He raised his glass. "To an enjoyable evening."
She clinked her glass with his. "It will be." She took a sip. "Very good, light but smooth." She put the glass down and shifted sideways, bringing her hip in contact with his. "So, tell me, Farid, what do you do?"
He gazed into her brown eyes then glanced down to her breasts revealed by the plunging neckline. "Um, I'm an engineer; I make communication systems." He took a swallow of wine.
"Do you make phones?"
He lifted his gaze to her face. "My company does, I build systems like the one on NASA's Jupiter ship."
Her eyes opened wide. "That's amazing. Do you go into space?" She reached for her glass. "The wine is very good, but do you have some crackers or cheese? I don't like to drink on an empty stomach."
"Just a moment." He hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a box of mixed-seed crackers from the cupboard, poured some into a bowl and hurried back to her side.
"Thank you," she said, taking a cracker and biting it in half with gleaming white teeth. She dropped her hand on his knee and smiled.
He felt himself getting hard and took another deep swallow of wine. His face was getting flushed as she gently rubbed his leg. In fact he felt dizzy. "That feels very good," he managed to say, gulping down the last of his wine.
She smiled and moved her hand up his thigh. "I'm glad you like it." She moved her hand higher, stroking his bulging erection. "Do you like that?" she asked, bending towards him. He saw that she wore no bra as her nipples came into view.
She continued to stroke him. His breathing became faster. He brought a shaking hand up and cupped her breast. She smiled wider, leaning into his grasp. "We can do anything you want, anything at all." With her other hand
she undid his pants button, pulled down the zipper and teased his erection from his shorts. It jerked in her hand as she breathed on it.
He felt faint and let his head fall back against the couch. The room swam before his eyes, and he couldn't focus on her face. The last thing he heard was "Good night, Farid." Then everything went dark.
Farid awoke to the worst headache he'd ever had. His mouth was dry and tasted of vomit He lay on his side on what felt like cushions, covered by a coarse blanket. He tried to sit up but couldn't move his arms; they were wrapped in a sort of jacket, and he fell back, helpless. He lay still, listening for any clue to tell him where he was. Abruptly he recognized the interior of a van; he lay on the middle seat.
A woman's voice announced, "Our boy's awake."
He knew that voice but couldn't think, his thoughts were too fuzzy. His bladder felt ready to burst, and to his shame he couldn’t hold it. The smell of warm urine sickened him. He thrashed around until his head was free of the blanket, and he could breathe.
A man's voice broke in. "Christ. He's pissed himself."
"Turn the fan on, and open a window," a woman's voice answered.
He recognized the voice — Maria.
"It's an hour to the transfer point. I'll give him another dose then."
"Yeah, I told you to use a nappy."
"Just drive."
Thoughts swirled in Farid's head, and he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
[Wednesday, Houston]
An unfamiliar buzzing awoke Ann. She fumbled around on the bedside table and touched a small box. She found a button, pressed it, and the buzz stopped. She stretched, yawned and switched on the bedside lamp—seven AM. The long flight from SFO to Houston's Ellington Airport had tired her, yet she'd been unable to sleep, brooding about Jon and Farid and NASA's spaceship. No one met her so she got a room at a nearby motel. It was too late for room service. She settled for a granola bar and beer from the mini fridge.
She got up and shuffled to the bathroom to get ready for whatever the day brought.
