Planned Chance

by Robert Webb

  Chapter 4

   

  He could feel the warm morning rays of sun bath his face as they vibrantly shined through the bay window, located next to the recliner that he had fallen asleep in the night before. Still a little groggy, he glanced in the direction of the kitchen after hearing noise coming from that area. She had already awakened and was in the kitchen squeezing some fresh juice from the oranges that he had picked up at a roadside stand on the way home the previous evening.

  She looked as if she had spent hours making herself up to look elegant, but he could tell that it was her natural way of looking. She wore one of his old shirts, which made her even more attractive, if that was even possible. The white cotton t-shirt that he long ago had stopped wearing was just short enough for him to get a teasingly erotic look at the pink lace panties that she wore. She noticed his glimpse and his uncomfortable movements, “I found one of your shirts, hope you don't mind.”

  He was sure that she knew just how sexy and desirable she really was as she walked over to where he was sitting and handed him a glass of the orange juice that she had just prepared. He raised his glass to his lips pouring the sweet nectar down his throat as his body started to hydrate itself after sleep. He had just finished the liquid when she sat down next to him, so close that her shoulders touched his, causing a sensation race through his body.

  “What do we do now?” once again placing her hand on his leg.

  He was still not sure if he trusted her after hearing she was an agent who was prepared to let the terrorists kill US government agents, at least, until she noticed him. Did that mean that she would have gone through with the plan to kill the agents if he had not been there.

  “You stay here I’m going to the office and make some inquiries,” he said knowing that he needed more information for the doubts that he had about her. He needed to know if she was telling him the truth.

  He went about getting ready for work, spending little time talking, and keenly aware that she would not leave his side. She was obviously scared.  

  It was a beautiful sunny morning with the wind slightly blowing as he drove his reliable sports car that he had for years, towards the downtown area of the city that housed the agency. He was stopped even before he could enter the office building by a short and stubby man with the charisma of a block of wood. Sal was a reporter for a rag of a newspaper originating out of nation's capital, and the lack of any evidence did not get in the way for him to have a story printed.

  The man had misquoted him so many times about past cases, that any professional courtesy that they may have once had was long gone. If he were here, it meant that someone must have given him a tiny morsel of information regarding one of the cases that he was working on, and the man was here to build a story around the probable misinformation. He put his head down and tried to sneak past the man without being noticed, and with his size, it would not be an easy task.

  "Tom, there you are." Just the sound of the man's voice made him cringe.

  Shit! He was spotted.

  The man wasted no time, and waddled over towards him, stopping well inside his personal space, "I just need a few minutes of your time."

  The man's breath hung in the air, causing Tom’s eyes to begin to fill with water, as if he had just cut up a fresh onion. Did this man even own a toothbrush?

  "I just don't have the time right now,” he said, all his evasive moves had failed. "What crap have you sniffed out now?"

  "Word on the street says that your team had a bust go bad last night," the man said acting as if he were uncovering the Watergate scandal. 

  “Once again you have got your facts wrong, something I am sure is unimportant to you or the editors of that sorry excuse of a newspaper that you work for," he said without hiding his feelings for the reporting that the man delivered. If Sal only knew, just how close he was to what really happened.

  The man became angry at the accusations, "I'll have you know that we have more subscribers than most of the newspapers in print."

  "Yeah, and look how many people watch fake news shows on television, that still doesn't make what they say legit," he was getting on the reporter's nerves.

  “Think what you will, I have never lied in any story that I have written,” the man said, suddenly becoming defensive.

  “No, but you certainly have stretched the truth haven’t you?” Tom was done with this conversation.

  Sal followed suit and turned to walk away, "You will need me someday Tom, and when that day comes, you had better pray that I give you the time of day."

  Man that was easy, I thought he would put up more of a fight. Tom did not speak to anyone else on the way up to his office, and was not friendly like he usually was when he arrived at work in the morning; instead, he walked into his typical institutional type government office and immediately started researching Alyse’s story.

  It was not a comfortable office, but it did have four walls and a door, which gave him much more privacy than his fellow agents who occupied cubicles. He pecked away at the keyboard, furiously visiting government database after government database in hopes to find some evidence to back up Alyse’s claims.

  He had been on the computer for so long that he did not know which hurt more, his eyes from the glare of the machine, or his butt from sitting so long in the chair. The phone rang, somewhat startling him, he was hesitant to answer the phone.

  “This is Director Barnes, what is the update on our case?” A voice came from the other end of the line. He did not have to be told who was on the line, for he knew it was the obnoxious man that they all called boss. The short and rotund man had zero people or leadership skills, but like most people appointed into government positions, he knew someone important, and favors have to be repaid. He was hesitant to give the director much information about the case and certainly was not going to tell him about Alyse, He did not trust the asshole, after all, he was one of the few people that knew of the teams plans and authorized nearly every move they made. He did not rule him out as being the mole.

  “There is nothing new to report sir, our surveillance operation that we had planned yesterday turned out to be a dead end,” he lied.

  The director went on to reiterate just how important the operation had become to national security and that he had handpicked this team and did not want to be let down. He knew that the director cared little about his team of agents; the only thing of concern to the director was to remain politically valuable to the administration.

  After gladly hanging up the phone with the narcissistic man, he pulled out his personal cell phone and dialed a number that he often called when he encountered a dead end during one of his operations.

  “Where,” was the only word uttered from the stern voice on the phone.

  “Same time same place, let’s say thirty minutes,” Tom said quickly ending the call and hurrying out of the office back to his car. He drove several blocks away from the agency and entered the student hangout area of the city; it was always easy to tell you had arrived by the smell of the coffee aromas permeating the air. He pulled up in front of a quaint coffee shop and made his way to the back of the establishment. The coffee shop’s aroma was just as pleasing to him as the smells on the outside of the shop, breathing in deeply as he leaned all the way back in his chair sipping a cup of straight black coffee. No vanilla latte mocha for him, he thought. The shop was very peaceful and quiet, with few patrons at this time of day, and they were more interested in what was illuminated on their computer screens, rather than what was going on around them.

  Just as he was about to take another drink of the warm liquid, an older gentleman with a matter of fact type personality, dressed in a dark gray suit slowly made his way over to Tom, all the while checking every corner of the coffee shop as if someone was going to jump out and attack him. The man sat opposite Tom and looked directly in his eyes without saying a word. He knew that he always had to start a conversation with the odd man, and this time
would be no different.

  “I need some answers,” Tom said.

  “Why does that concern me?” The man replied.

  “You and I have a common enemy,” Tom said, well aware that this man held the secrets of many leaders around the world. A young woman approached the table and it was apparent she was a college student working a job to make ends meet while she attended classes. The man rudely motioned the waitress away as she approached to take their order, he did not operate with any sort of tact. The woman left knowing that it was not a good time to bother them, rolling her eyes as she moved on.

  “Like I said, how does the woman you have hidden away up in your apartment concern me?” The man asked wittingly.

  He could only be amused that the man would already know about Alyse. It may have been a little unnerving but this man’s breath of knowledge was precisely why he came to see him. Of course, he knew about the woman in his apartment, you could bet your life that if the rest of the world didn't know something, this man did.

  It was almost as if the man had every persons home and business phones tapped and recorded

  “I'm not going to insult your intelligence and act as if you don't know the questions that I have about the woman in my apartment, or the organization that she says she is affiliated to,” Tom said.

  “You mean you want to know if she actually is a double agent or a treacherous bitch,” the man said with a certain amount of superiority.

  “That about sums it up,” he replied looking intently at every subtle move the man would make.

  “She is telling you the truth; on the other hand, she did not tell you everything. What she did not tell you about are things that you do not need to know,” the man said without waiting for a reply.

  The man rose from the table that he and Tom were sharing, as if he had already taken enough of a chance by being in a public place.

  “What does that mean?” he asked as the man began to walk away.

  “Just remember Tom, things aren't always as they seem,” the man replied walking out the front door of the coffee shop.

  He sat finishing his coffee and wondering if he had more questions now then he had before talking with his contact. Well, I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there, he thought as he finished his cup of coffee.

  He was just glad Alyse appeared to be telling him the truth. He decided he needed to return to his office before any suspicions would arise as to where he may have been going in such a hurry when he left to meet his informant. It was not that he was supervised, but for safety purposes, his superiors would have expected him to take back up during any investigation or questioning.

  He was pulling out of the parking space directly in front of the coffee shop when a single gunshot pierced the windshield of his car striking his headrest, If he had not been plugging in his dyeing cell phone, his brains would have been splattered all over his car. He jumped from the car and tried to focus in on someone that might appear to be holding a gun or try to focus on any movement that might give away his would be killer’s position. The mass of people that suddenly populated the downtown area made it almost impossible; college classes had obviously let out.

  He had almost given up when he finally noticed the elusive movements of a man with a rifle entering a tall building on the east side of the street. Becoming angry that someone had just tried to take his life, he gave chase to the anonymous man in hopes of finding out who wanted him dead. If there was one thing he could do well, it was his ability to run fast, a craft that he learned as a competitor on his college track team.

  He entered the modern office building at blazing speed, catching a glimpse of the man entering one of the building’s elevators. Knowing that he could not reach the elevator in time to catch the doors from closing, he took an immediate turn to the left to enter the stairwell of the building. He had noticed the stairwell signage the moment he entered the building, a habit that he always carried out when he entered a public place. Experience told him that the typical, “bad guy,” would take to the roof if cornered in a building.

  Without hesitation, he made easy work of the four levels of stairs and approached a door that hid a small stairwell not used by the public; there was little doubt that this was the roof access. At the top of the stairwell, he swung open the rusted metal door that led directly to the roof, which was swinging back and forth making squeaking sounds because of badly needed oil to its hinges. He knew he was hot on the trail of his would-be assassin, who had already exited onto the roof.

  He paused just inside the doorway and quickly peeked around the corner just enough to eye the shooter at the edge of the roof. The roof was barren, except for the air conditioning units and mechanical fixtures that you would normally see on most any building. This openness gave the shooter no place to hide, or take cover. He drew his service weapon and leapt out onto the roof.

  “Freeze FBI,” he shouted as he leveled his weapon dead center on the man's chest. The man turned slowly and raised his weapon to his own head; the sweat dripping off the man's face as he contemplated the finality of what he was about to do to himself.

  “Don't do it man, whatever it is that you’ve gotten into, it's not worth your life,” he pleaded nearly begging the man not to kill himself.

  “I have no choice,” the man said as he pulled the trigger of the gun and the bullet dutifully exited the smoking barrel and tore into the side of the man’s head, instantly silencing him. He stood silent realizing that he had stumbled onto something much bigger than even he could imagine.

  A very tired Tom walked into his apartment and he could smell the savory aroma that permeated the air. He rounded the corner into his dining room, instinctively following the scent to a fully cooked candlelight dinner that was waiting for him, compliments of Alyse.

   “We weren’t able to have dinner in Germany, so I thought we should finish it now,” she softly said.

  They both sat down to the prepared dinner, talking little about the present circumstances, and instead, enjoying being around each other. After dinner, he was enjoying the warm water flowing over his body soothing the aching muscles from his foot chase earlier in the day.

  He was surprised to feel a hand slide around his stomach, slightly caressing his skin. He opened his eyes to a naked Alyse, God she was beautiful, he could no longer hold back as their lips met in a passionate kiss. The two caressed each other endlessly, tantalizing every nerve, which collectively heightened with anticipation. He picked her up and held her in his arms, softly gripping her body as he took her into his dimly lit bedroom. He laid her on her back and delicately moved on top of her, gripping her hands with his. He stared into her deeply passionate eyes as he entered her in rhythm until they both collapsed in ecstasy; it was almost as the years apart culminated in this very moment.

  They held each other tight before falling fast asleep in each other’s arms, completely at ease. He awoke the next morning placing his hand to where she had fallen asleep, only to feel the cold crisp sheets, so he arose and scouted the apartment for her. He noticed a note propped up against a wine bottle left out on the kitchen counter; just like that, she was gone again.

  A dejected Tom barely made it into the office when an excited Michelle ran up to him, almost out of breath:

  “Did you hear, we got them,” Michelle said excitedly as she explained that all members of the terrorist group had been killed in a fiery crash that morning after a routine traffic stop turned into a high-speed chase

  “Everyone!” he asked, feeling his heart miss a beat.

  “Yes,” Michelle said smiling.

  “Including the female?” He asked before thinking.

  “Yes,” Michelle repeated.

  He had to sit down after losing all the feeling in his body. He was falling in love with her and could not bear the thought that he had lost her again. He barely had the energy to answer the ringing phone that sat on his desk and was surprised to hear the man that he had met in the coffee shop t
he previous day on the other end of the line; this was the first time that he had contacted Tom.

  “Remember Tom, things aren’t always as they seem,” and the phone went dead.

  Perplexed by the call, Tom could only hold one thought in his mind; Alyse was dead, or was she?