by C. R. Daems
"No, thank you, Bert. I have a drink and I'm a lesbian."
The look on his face was priceless. His mouth dropped open, his cheeks turned pink, and he looked away. He mumbled something I couldn't hear and left.
Sometime later my bar-lady came with another drink, and I handed her another twenty.
"Thanks. That's a great line, hon. I'll have to remember it when I don't want company. Not only discouraged Bert-the-flirt but everyone else in the lounge. What happens if a woman sits down?"
"Then, I'm a transvestite." I smiled. She choked and went away laughing.
To Harkin's credit he only had two beers. Several women dropped by his table, and he danced with two over the three hours he stayed.
The first time I got up to follow, I caught Alice's attention. "Get me another drink, and save my seat." Following him from a distance was the best I could do. At least I could survey the room, looking for suspicious gangbangers with AK-47s. I think Alice was sad to see me leave when Harkin finally decided to call it an evening.
As he drove away, he looked over to me.
"What would you have done if I decided to bring one of the ladies home with me?"
"Mr. Harkin. I'm not a chaperone or policewoman or undercover Federal agent. I don't care about your sex preferences, drug usage, or any cons you may be running. Those are someone else's job. My sole interest is protecting your life. So long as you stay in my sight or a room I can guard, you are free to do whatever you like."
He laughed. "Alright. I don't like having a woman bodyguard, but I owe you for not leaving when I tried to ditch you. Hockey's my life and the Coyotes are important to me. The owner would have locked me out if you had left. And you were inconspicuous tonight." He was quiet on the rest of the ride back to his house. He spent some time watching hockey tapes and retired around midnight. I found a comfortable chair and pushed it to where I could see the hallway and the only possible entrances to his bedroom.
* * *
I returned to consciousness when I heard Harkin get out of bed. I pushed the chair back to its original position and made myself some coffee. Just before eight, the FBI had a change of shift. Shortly afterward, I heard the front door being unlocked and opened.
"Kate, it's Wickman and Susan. Don't shoot." He didn't laugh, but he was smiling when they appeared in the entrance to the open area living/dining/kitchen area. "I'll say one thing, having you here has certainly reduced the normal boredom. You're the first ZAP agent I've had on the job, and if I'm not mistaken you seem to be having fun."
"It's a fun job," I said as Harkin came walking down the hallway.
"Good morning, Mr. Harkin. What would you like for breakfast?" Susan asked cheerfully.
"What do you suggest?"
"How about eggs, cottage cheese, sausage, toast, and goat milk?"
"Sounds good, Susan." Harkin picked up the Arizona Republic that Wickman had brought in, took a seat at the dining table, and began reading.
I backed up against the wall.
"I'm going to make my rounds of the house. Just in case someone snuck in late last night while our ZAP agent was sleeping," Wickman said with a grin as he headed downstairs.
The day was boring. Harkin had resigned himself to me, as had his teammates and the coach. I enjoyed watching the practice on the ice and understood why anyone in the sport required a massive amount of calories. And watching sweaty men pumping iron was entertaining.
That night Harkin had invited Sean and his girl and a girlfriend of his own to dinner. They arrived around seven. Harkin would have liked everyone to ignore me, but the women weren't cooperating.
"Doug, what's it like having a woman following you around all day … and night?" asked Sean's girlfriend Joy with a twinkle in her eyes. Faye, Harkin's date, was watching him closely.
"It's a pain in the ass and embarrassing besides. I now know what it would be like to be stalked." He gave me a sneer.
"I hear you invaded the men's locker room. What was it like?" Joy continued with obvious enjoyment, directing her question to me with a nod.
"Interesting if you like sweaty young muscular bodies running around half naked," I replied with a smile, although in reality at the time I’d been more interested in evaluating their actions and potential hostility toward Harkin than them as men.
"You think you could sneak me in?" Joy smiled. "Please?"
"Easier to sneak in an elephant than you."
Joy frowned for a minute then beamed an award-winning smile when she realized the analogy. Eventually the novelty wore off and I was ignored amid a lot of small talk about the team, individual players, and the upcoming playoffs. When Susan called everyone to dinner, they took their places, and I backed up against a wall with a beef sandwich Susan had brought me. I think she tried to make it bland tasting but couldn't quite bring herself to remove all the seasoning.
"Don't you ever sit, Kate?" Joy again. She had an inquisitive mind and a good sense of humor judging by her actions to date.
I shook my head no.
"Why? Seems you could protect Doug sitting in a chair over there. You could still see him."
"If some emergency happened right now, how long would it take you to stand up and get clear of the table and chair?"
"Three or four seconds," she said after a little thought.
"A lifetime if someone entered the room with a gun, or threw something dangerous into the room, or …" I left the or to her imagination.
"It must be a difficult life." Joy said, looking serious.
"But then there are the locker rooms," I quipped.
"There is that," Joy snorted.
Faye gave me a look of disgust.
The conversation turned to the women's lives. Joy worked as a women's clothes buyer for a small department chain in California, Nevada, and Arizona and was a part-time model. Faye worked in the marketing department of an advertising firm. Faye had been giving me disapproving looks for most of the meal. Probably thought I was evaluating her table manners or watching so she didn't steal the silverware. They had just finished their meal, and Susan was pouring coffee, when shots rang out.
Chairs scraped backward, napkins flew in the air, and coffee cups overturned, splashing coffee across the table as everyone began a frantic flight to safety. Of course, they had no idea where that was.
"STOP! ON THE FLOOR!" I shouted, waving my gun in their direction to make sure they understood it wasn't a request and sweeping Doug's feet from him as he pushed his chair back and tried to stand. When they were all on the floor, I lowered my voice. "Slide over to behind the island. Harkin, over here. NOW!" Someone, probably Faye, was sobbing while the others were mumbling in hushed tones as they worked their way to the island in the kitchen. I dropped my half-eaten sandwich, grabbed the house remote, which I carried while in the house, and killed the lights. Harkin looked at me angrily, rubbing his arm.
"I'd be safer by the island than here," he said angrily and then snarled, "Why aren't you out there helping the FBI rather than hiding in here?"
I ignored him, trying to interpret the noise outside. It sounded like a couple of cars, semi-automatic weapons, and hand-guns—gang vs FBI. I saw a shadow of a head rise above the island counter.
"Get down or I'll shoot you!" I shouted.
Seconds later, automatic fire ripped through the kitchen windows. Pots clanged and were propelled into the air, a triple layer cake exploded, and sparks from granite chips danced across the counter top as bullets from an automatic weapon raked the area. Next, it shredded the dining table, spraying dishes and food against the walls, and the coffee pot exploded. As the destruction moved from left to right away from where I stood—which was out of a direct line to the window—I stuck my head out enough to see out the window.
I couldn't see the person firing, but I did see the bursts of light from the nozzle of the gun. I fired multiple shots and was rewarded with a scream. But seconds later, there was the sound of another automatic weapon coming from the living area. Th
e screeching sound of destruction moved from right to left, tearing through the TV, electronic equipment, chairs, walls, pictures, sweeping in an arc from the living room toward the dining room and kitchen. I could feel the wall I was standing behind vibrate as multiple rounds tracked across it.
Fortunately, the curved wall was tile on cement block. Even still, it couldn't have survived if the shooter had held his fire in one spot. But he continued his senseless destruction through the dining room and toward the kitchen.
When the shooting stopped and I heard a clip being ejected, I stepped out, looking in the direction of the sound of the clip hitting the floor. I found a shadow at the top of the stairs leading down to the first floor and emptied my Glock at it. One or more shots must have hit the shooter because the shadow was thrown back against the wall and I heard a weapon clanging down the steps. Before I could get another clip loaded, the shadow fled—or maybe fell down the steps, judging by the sound. For unknown minutes that felt like hours, I strained to hear any tell-tale noise over the random shooting outside that would warn me of someone or something in the house.
Nothing except for harsh breathing and sobbing from behind the kitchen island. Doug lay curled in a fetal position against the wall—couldn't blame him. I wasn't in a hurry to leave my wall and venture out into the open. Whoever they were, they had bigger guns than me.
Seconds later, bullets smashed through the living room windows and I heard cars accelerating away. The shooting stopped. A deadly silence followed, "Stay down! And don't move," I said since I suspected at least one of them thought it was now safe and they should go … Heaven only knew where. "We will wait for the police to tell us the party is over. Until then, stay where you are."
It was at least ten minutes before multiple sirens could be heard and flashing red and blue lights danced on the scarred and debris-splattered walls.
"Stay put until I say to move." I reiterated. They might have thought it was safe. I didn't.
A couple of minutes later, the door opened and I heard Wickman shout.
"Kate, is it safe to come up? Is anyone hurt?"
"It's not safe. There was a shooter in the back of the house and one on the stairs. Until someone determines whether they are gone, neither this house nor this room is safe."
I heard someone, I think Joy, say, "She's right."
"Get us out of here!" Sobbing, probably from Faye. "We're going to die if we stay here."
"We're safe here, Faye," Joy said in a soft, soothing voice.
Thirty minutes later, Wickman opened the front door.
"Kate, it's Wickman. It's safe to come out. The area is clear and there are two ambulances waiting to take everyone to the hospital for a checkup."
Slowly, everyone rose and stood examining themselves in the dim moonlight coming in through the shattered windows.
"Turn on the lights," Doug snarled. I guess he was still mad because I dumped him on his ass or maybe that I had seen him scared—the fearless rough and tough hockey jock. Personally, I thought he would have had to be an imbecile not to be. If I had been sane, I would have been. I wasn't, but then I was all hopped up on an adrenaline high.
* * *
Although no one was seriously hurt, everyone had some cut or bruise either from falling, banging into things, or from flying debris: granite, dishes, and silverware. And everyone had cake on them. Over the next week, the team owners decided Doug was a huge liability, and Doug decided he needed to get out of town. After several days of negotiating, he signed a contract with the Kelowna Rockets in the Canadian Hockey League.
CHAPTER NINE
R & R Spain
Two days later, I sat in Liang's office sipping a glass of Mango juice Dory had given me on my way to the director's office.
"Well, Kate, that was good work. Your client survived. You are unhurt except for a few scratches, and there were no written complaints. Although Mr. Harkin did say he felt like he was being stalked by you and that you didn't need to kick his legs out from under him to get him on the floor. He claims you could have broken his arm and ended his career." She smiled. "With his permission, I taped the conversation and have posted the audio recording to your board so everyone knows how you treat clients."
"He's not my type. He prefers passive women."
"I'm hoping the Complaint Board provides the agents with an insight into our interactions with our clients and provokes discussions. It's not as good as real experience but better than nothing. Since I have no assignment for you right now, you can have a couple of weeks off for saving me a second agent. Any plans?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Since my languages are Spanish and Chinese, I thought I'd visit Spain and find some Spanish hunk to entertain me. The Chinese tend to be small, so it would take me most of my time off to find one big enough."
"That could be a problem. Make sure Dory knows how to contact you in the event something comes up. Everyone needs time off to relax, but assignments take precedence," she said taking a sip of her coffee. Since she didn't appear to have anything else to discuss, I rose.
"Well I'm off. Don't want to keep the lucky man—men—waiting." As I closed the door, Dory waved me over.
"Kate, do you need me to make any reservations for you? Liang prefers me to make them."
"If you don't mind, that would be a good idea. That way you'll know how to contact me in an emergency, and I won't have to worry about telling you where I'm staying or going next. But only on one condition," I said, knowing it was extra work, which I was sure she didn't need.
"What condition?" Her look was cautious like maybe she shouldn't have offered.
"You and a guest eat at a five-star restaurant once each quarter, on me."
"I can live with that," she said, letting out a breath she had been holding and smiled. "Where to, and what kind of accommodations do you prefer?"
"Barcelona, the one in Spain." I grinned. "I like to travel first class and stay in upscale hotels, but I'd prefer normal rooms rather than suites. I don't plan on spending enough time in my room to justify the extra cost."
The next morning I called a taxi to take me to the Los Angeles International Airport for my first-class seat on Lufthansa. On board I was treated like I plan on getting accustomed to. At the El Prat Airport, I caught a taxi to the Hotel Serhs Rivoli Ramvla, where I had a room on the fourth floor with a good view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. The hotel had a four-star rating and the room was spacious and more than adequate for my needs. It was early afternoon, so I spent an hour in the exercise room working out. The problem with assignments was I got no real exercise and if I wasn't careful, I would lose the muscle tone I had acquired in training, and more importantly, it could affect my performance. I concluded vacations had to be more than relaxing and having fun.
For the next two evenings I visited a few of the local night clubs: the Club Catwalk, the Shoko, and the Razzmatazz. They had lots of men dancing and raising hell, but I didn't find anyone I wanted to spend time with—not even a night. Ironically, they all seemed more mindless than normal, which was kind of scary because that was probably what I was like before ZAP, and I went back to the hotel alone. The next day, I wandered the city streets visiting some of the tourist attractions and late in the afternoon wound up at the George Payne Irish Bar.
I was sitting at one of the small two-seat tables eating a chicken curry when a middle-aged man approached.
"Good day, I'm Ian O'Neil. Since you're the most attractive lady in the building, I thought I'd stop and inquire if you were alone and, if so, wanted company," he said looking down at me with a friendly smile and twinkling green-gray eyes.
"I'm alone, bored, and in need of some good Irish blarney," I said, looking up at him. He stood just under six feet and had a neatly trimmed full-beard, ear-length brown hair, and a playful smile. He was older than I was looking for by maybe ten years, but what the hell. Maybe a change was what I needed. The young men I'd met so far hadn't interested me. He laughed w
hile pulling out a chair and sitting.
"I'm Kate."
"It's my lucky day then, and I didn't even have to follow a rainbow to find you, Kate. What brings you to Spain?"
"Because I've never been to Spain, wanted someplace different to relax and have fun, and speak Spanish."
"Well now, I know an excellent guide who is available and free for a darling girl the likes of you."
"I'll give you today to impress me," I said, deciding to give him a trial run.
He smiled and spent the next hour over tea getting to know what I'd seen so far, my interests—and my dislikes, smart man. After a quiet dinner, he took me to the Sala Apolo nightclub, famous for its outstanding electronica, jazz, and guitars—the number one nightclub in Barcelona. Afterword, we retired to his room and had hours of slow luxurious sex, which was a nice change from the ‘slam, bam, thank you ma'am’ that the young tend to be famous for—not that it doesn't work sometimes.
We left the next day in a Ferrai Scaglletti for a whirlwind tour down the coastline to Valencia, Murcia, Malaga, and Gibraltar, visiting famous plazas, cultural centers, museums, and cathedrals, not to mention nightclubs, five-star restaurants and hotels—and plenty of morning and evening sex. He was a gold-mine discovery and the days flew by.
"Well, Kate. I'm afraid the clock is striking midnight and work must bring our magical tour of Spain to an end. I've business in Madrid the day after tomorrow and then I must fly back to Dublin."
"You've been a prince charming, Ian, and have made this a memorable trip. I too must get back to work. If you don't mind, I'll fly back with you to Madrid and catch a flight back to the States from there."
"I noticed you check in with the office regularly ..." he said, leaving the unspecified question hanging. He had been good about not pressing me on what I did for a living. I had been vague, only saying I worked for a security firm. I debated what I could or should say. Being a ZAP agent wasn't a secret, but possibly it was not what I wanted to tell men on a first date. Hard to tell how they would take it. But Ian had been the perfect date, making sure we did things I would enjoy and never pushing—not that he needed to.
