by Ann Raina
Michael sipped the cold juice. “Escorting ladies to Washington?”
“To wherever they want.” Eric put his forearms on the polished tabletop, then abruptly turned to Mona. “Hey, say, did Jason stop by tonight?”
“No, not that I know. He came yesterday morning. After that, I haven’t seen him.”
First Michael had thought that Eric’s black hair was very short and slicked back, but when he turned, he could see a thick braid reaching down between his shoulder blades.
“Lucky boy.” Eric licked his lips and turned back. “He didn’t know if the trip would have a sleepover, but obviously that dude has more luck than is good for him.”
“Is it rare that the escort lasts longer than one night?”
Eric lifted his broad shoulders and dropped them again. “Depends. See, there’s never a second date on a day so the lady that wants to spend time with you has no limit. She can come or go, take you with her to a hotel or wherever she wants your company. I’ve heard a story that one escort was taken on a cruise. Two weeks.” He whistled through his teeth, displaying jealousy.
Mona served dinner plates loaded with chicken stripes, green salad, tomatoes, cucumber, sweet corn and cashews. “Here you go. Better eat up for good weather.”
“Thanks, Mona.”
The men dug their forks into the salad.
Mona cleaned up and left. The kitchen was very quiet.
Michael heard the soft conversations from outside where guards patrolled at night. He chewed and, with his fork in mid-air, asked, “What if the lady finds out I’m not her type of guy?”
“She’ll push you out or leave. Depends on where you are.” Eric’s green eyes sparkled with joy. “If you disappoint her, she’ll certainly smack you. No, just kidding. Don’t think too hard about that. I never heard that a date went wonky.”
“Good to know.” For a moment, they ate in silence. “How long have you been here?”
“Eight months. And before you ask—yes, I like it here.” He piled up the rest of corn, found it too hard to get it on the fork and simply tipped the plate to his mouth.
“Hope you don’t do that elsewhere.”
The plate was very clean when it hit the table again, but Eric had juice on his chin. He took the napkin Michael handed him. “Thanks. Sure I do. You bet. There’s a Middle Ages restaurant outside Leesburg. You only get a knife and a spoon. Guess what my suit looked like after an evening.”
“A woman took you there?” Michael couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“You can’t imagine what they can imagine.” Eric dropped the napkin on the plate. His tone was that of man who had seen it all. “Even the rich ladies or the famous ones—depends, and sometimes they are both—they want to live something thrilling. Exciting, y’know. Now take a guy like me—” He took the posture of a muscle man and straightened on his chair. “—and a slender, petite woman.” He slumped again, hiding his height of six foot four. “She had so much fun watching me try my best to eat and not spatter my clothes. I failed. Miserably, as you should know. You can’t eat in the half dark and not splash potato soup on your pants.”
Michael laughed and Eric joined though he pretended hurt feelings. Michael liked the young man who tried to appear older and more experienced than his age. Eric could be anything between eighteen and twenty-five. “Did she want more…you know…after that?”
“After dinner she was tanked with mead and told her driver to take me back. We never even made it to more than my lips touching the back of her hand for goodbye. And I can’t say if she had been up to it at all.”
Michael fell silent, but Eric anticipated the question.
“Yes, there are dates without sex. More than you think, I suppose. Escort service means we are good company for whatever they want. If they want to go down on you, fine, then you follow, but it’s not the general rule.” He squinted. “Lady Summerston didn’t tell you much about your occupation, hmm?”
“Not really, no. Guess she hadn’t much time today.”
Eric leaned back, one muscled arm across the backrest. A man at ease, pleased with himself.
Michael wanted to laugh about the gesture, but instead he reached for his glass.
“See, one hired me to be pillion-rider on a motorcycle. She said she had never done that before. And she loved it. Really loved it.”
“The ride or to show off with you?”
Eric lowered his chin, smiling broadly. “Yeah, maybe both. It was an absolutely splendid day for both of us. She’s a lady with lots of humor.”
“How many men are in the team?”
“Let me think. Twelve at the moment, including you. Ms. Monroe and Lady Summerston keep track of our time so that no one’s overwhelmed with obligations.”
“Spare time?”
“No, of course not.” Again, Eric flashed a smile which made him look like a college boy. “You got to stay 24/7 to be available whenever your skills are needed. Seriously, you need time off and you get it. Last month, Lady Summerston talked to us about being attentive to the ladies’ needs. Be a gentleman and so on. If need be, she’d even give us proper behavior lessons.”
“So she shows up from time to time?”
“Yes, frequently. She wants to stay in contact with her boys as she calls us. As far as I know, she picks them all personally.”
“I see.” Michael drank and put back the glass. “Will there be a general introduction to my tasks?”
“Oh, yes. Ms. Monroe will even hand you a book of rules. Better study it. I got caught red-handed before sticking my nose into it. And let me tell you—she was not amused. No, better don’t smile about that.”
“You’re still here, so it cannot have been that bad.”
“Ms. Monroe made me feel as if I had tried to steal the Declaration of Independence.”
“Reminds me of a good movie.”
“Don’t like Nicholas Cage, but for the rest, it was okay.” Eric put his arms on the table again and played with his glass. “I’m in for more thrilling rides. Resident Evil, Shoot ‘em Up. That stuff. And you?”
“All the President’s Men, Three Days of the Condor and The Needle. To just name a few.”
Eric looked flabbergasted. “These are older than you! I don’t believe it! Not even True Lies? Which was cool, I’d say.”
“But was it believable?”
“Who gives a damn? Or do you believe that James Bond is a true agent?”
“Let me think… Hmm, no, not really.” They laughed about that. “The true agents don’t run around blurting their name out. And they wouldn’t drive an Aston Martin. Draws too much attention.”
“As if you knew.” Eric emptied his glass. “And I would drive an Aston Martin if I could afford it.”
“How come you work here?”
“Because I’m good.” Eric’s smile withered when he realized Michael didn’t take the joke. He took a deep breath. He leaned against the backrest and put his thumbs in the pockets. “You want all the truth and only the truth on the first evening?”
“Yep.”
Eric pursed his lips, frowning. “I had a job as a driver in some noble house. I brought the lady here from time to time.”
“She’s one of the customers then?”
“I can’t tell you details, but she was all excited one afternoon and introduced me to Lady Summerston. The rest is history.” He shrugged as if his career was so great the mere mentioning would mean to show off.
Michael tilted his head. “I wonder if she comes to see you now.”
“Can the grin. I won’t tell.”
“Wouldn’t have bet.”
Eric nodded, looking at the tabletop. “Yeah, all bets are off when it comes to this job.” He raised his gaze again. “From handyman to escort service is also a career, don’t you think?”
“As is from driver to enchanting gentleman.” Michael grinned. “Even if you can’t eat soup. Splatter boy.”
Michael looked at the sky. In his youth
, his father had told him all about the stars, about the ring of planets, about the moons of Jupiter. He had yearned for the weekends to stand beside his old man and listen to the stories of how the stars were named and that new telescopes made it possible to find new stars in the depth of the galaxy. Those days were gone. Michael’s father had died in a car accident when Michael had been fifteen. A drunken driver had changed lanes and hit the other vehicle directly. Michael still looked at the starlit sky and hoped that one day he would die as fast.
He sighed as he dropped his gaze to the people passing him by. He had chosen the small park bench to sit and relax, but also to instantly learn of a hostile observation. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Lester, it’s Mighty.”
“Hey, how are you doing? Besides, do you know what time it is?”
“Should I know? I’m glad you’re still awake.”
“You know, the telephone rang. No, just kidding. How’s it going?”
Michael smiled though his friend couldn’t see it. “Would you burst out of your skin if I told you I’m glad to hear your voice?”
“Ah, what a mess. Is it that bad?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“Still the handyman’s job? Poor boy.”
“No, I got in. Three days ago.”
Lester whistled through his teeth. “Look who gets the ball rolling! Does Linda know?”
“I gave her a brief on the phone. Guess what she said.”
“By your tone I’d say she wasn’t nice to you.”
“Nope, she wasn’t.” Michael checked the passers-by again, but no one shot him more than a glance. “She expected me to hand her all intel at once to finally prove her suspicion.” He sighed deeply. “What if there’s nothing? What if I’m wasting my time here?”
“There’s the number of Middle Eastern employees.”
“If George Summerston loves that country, maybe he just decided to push their numbers in the US.”
“How farfetched is that? Has he ever been there? Are there business connections? No, right? Okay, I won’t dig any further. How come you got to be one of the chosen men?”
“I think, I was recommended, but truly not by David Callahan.” He chuckled.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, if you stood beside him, you’d know.”
“Ah, I get it.”
“But so I don’t know who gave my name to Lady Summerston.”
“You made an impression. That’s all that counts! See, I told ya! What about your first date?”
“It’s far away. Ms. Monroe went shopping with me two days ago. She’s hard as nails, non-compromising and made me think of an iron maiden the whole time. Don’t laugh, dude! The whole afternoon she looked at me as if she were afraid I would to go down on her between two rows of clothes.”
Lester laughed even harder.
“She’s not even my type.”
Lester turned his laughter into a coughing fit.
“She told me all about my duties and behavior rules and how to speak to the ladies, it was plainly annoying. It was a two-day drill about everything from dancing to talking to what glass is right for red wine. She made this a damn exam! As if I had no mannerism at all!”
“You’re heartwarming when you complain, pal, but let’s get real. She wants this to work. So better learn some rules than get fired next week.”
“Come on, you should know me better than this!”
“I do know you better.”
Michael shook his head. “I know what’s at stake. Don’t need to remind me. But my nerves aren’t the best, as far as I can tell.”
“Believe me, Mighty, Patch sent the right man on this job. Keep me posted. Even if it’s at an odd hour.”
“Bye.”
“Bye. And sleep tight. Maybe Ms. Monroe will test you at night, too.”
Michael disconnected the call amid Lester’s hilarious laughter.
Chapter 5
Linda tapped her dark red nails on the tabletop. “Yes, sir, I understand, but we are in need of—”
Not for the first time, Bellard cut her short. “Bernstein, I know how urgent it is to make this mission count, but so far, I’m very pleased with Michael that he didn’t bust his cover. His advance is slow, yes, but within four weeks, he got promoted into the ranks of the escort service. That is quite an accomplishment and proof of his immaculate performance.”
Linda stopped tapping and anger got the best of her. “But he hasn’t found out anything valuable! He could’ve been far more persistent and check out the surroundings and the personnel.”
There was a chuckle in Bellard’s voice, low and quickly gone. He knew he pissed Linda off. “That might be your way of investigation, but he is inexperienced, so he has to find his own MO. What else can you tell me?”
She sounded grumpy. “Lady S makes it hard for newcomers to gain access to the chosen men, but I succeeded to be listed. That doesn’t mean I got an appointment tomorrow, but it’s a step forward.”
“Agreed.”
“Michael made photos. I identified an engineer from Iraq whom we had on our watch list until he disappeared. His current status is unknown, but I assume he’s here to assemble a weapon.”
“That’s speculation.”
“Until Michael can prove his intentions. The Iraqi works at the stables of the Summerston place.”
“Could it be that there’s a hidden room with machines?”
“No, sir, there’s no indication that parts of the buildings are used for illegal means. The basement seems the only reasonable place to lead any kind of operation. But Michael said there’s only the wine cellar and George Summerston’s office.” She sighed.
“Keep up the good work, Bernstein, and don’t try to rush Tessler. You hear me? I don’t want you to put pressure on him. If he makes a mistake, we’re out of the game.”
“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t keep reluctance out of her voice and her thoughts were her own.
* * * *
Michael came downstairs slowly. He was in good shape, he knew, but the exercise program Ms. Monroe had set up for him was strenuous. He had taken a shower and dressed in the new clothes she had selected. No doubt, Lady Summerton wanted her employees to look like dress men. He had never before worn such expensive suits and remembered with a smile that Ms. Monroe had been happy that he accepted her choices. His muscles ached and felt heavy, but it was a good feeling. In the kitchen, Mona offered him a hearty meal and when she left, Eric moved in with swinging steps. He had the perfect timing for a small chat.
“Hungry, ey?”
Michael just nodded. His mouth was full.
“Lucky with your preparations? I heard you’re right the guy they need here.” His grin was all male when he pointed two-handed from Michael to himself. “A slender type compared to my frame.”
Michael shot him a glare. Eric laughed and snatched a carrot from Michael’s plate. Michael slapped his hand.
“What kind of specialty do you have?” Eric opened the fridge, still grinning like Wylie Coyote. “A beer?”
Michael wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back. “Isn’t it a bit early for booze?”
Eric shot him an impatient look.
“Okay, then it’s a yes. What do you mean with specialty?”
“Heineken, Bud or Dos Equis?”
“You have Dos Equis? Great.” He got a bottle. “Thanks.”
“See, I have a talent. I can strip really well. Sometimes I do it for customers. They enjoy laying back and watching.”
Michael coughed up. “Stripper? Like in striptease?”
Blockhead, said Eric’s glance. “That’s the idea, hmm?”
“But…”
The young man smiled. “Hey, I’ve got muscles where you don’t have places. I look pretty cool when I strip.” Michael was about to ask for his age when Eric said, “Yeah, I know, I look young, but you have to be young to be wanted. No one makes money in this
job beyond the age of twenty-nine.” He took a swig, brows raised. “And you?”
“I’m not twenty-nine yet.”
“Yeah, right. You got lucky and fell up the ladder then. Congrats.”
“Thank you.”
They drank and for a while, Eric just looked at the older man. “Have you seen the other rooms?”
“Which ones?”
Eric cocked his head, looking impatient. “The other rooms where the ladies play. Didn’t Ms. Monroe show you? She had you in her clutches for three days by now.”
“She told me about the rooms in this wing, but she didn’t show me.”
Eric slipped off the counter and put down the bottle. “Okay, let me give you a tour. Come on, don’t be so lazy. At this time of day, they’ll probably be empty.”
Michael bolted the rest of the salad. “You mean…”
“Yes, I mean you haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He grinned like a youth showing off with his new skateboard.
They went down the long corridor and up the stairs onto the first floor. A guard watched them, but let them pass. “The lady arranged everything here and it’s very elaborate, believe me. I wondered how they kept the couples from bumping into each other on the stairway. See, they never walk upstairs the same way like the others. And not at the same time. So if you meet with your date, there’ll be no one else around. From an entrance room, you take her upstairs and into the room she chose, totally in private. Not even her best friend knows what she does. Elaborate, ey?” Eric opened the first room to the left. “Exclusive bedroom,” he explained as if Michael had no eyes to see. “King-sized bed, expensive carpets, cupboards, chairs and chaise longue—ladies love that, I can tell you—and other stuff you need. Every room—and there are quite a few of this kind—has a separate bathroom.” He smiled and twitched his brows. “Good thinking, hmm?”
“Very. May I have a look?”
“Sure, why not?”
Michael chortled about Eric’s tone. As if he owned the place. He walked the thick carpet up to the bed to his right. There was the aroma of roses, emitting from a bouquet on the nightstand close to the window. All set for a lovely night. Including Kleenex in a discreet silver box, brush and comb and another box Michael guessed to hold condoms. A cupboard stood to his left, filled with antiquities and books, bound in tasteful leather covers. Goethe. Shaw. Shakespeare. Rimbaud. They were held by artful bookends, which resembled Diana with her bow and arrow, ready to strike. He mused what the goddess of hunting had to do with either the books or the lovemaking in this room. The bookends were made of dark gray marble with lighter stripes in it. The moment Michael turned away, he made out something odd. Light caught in the lower part of the figurine, reflected it. He cocked his head for closer inspection.
