Chapter Thirteen
Elena walked east on Massachusetts Avenue, down from Dupont Circle, stepping around icy spots on the sidewalk. Two European men, who were in town for a meeting at a think tank, watched her and clucked their tongues. She was wearing knee-high, spike-heels boots, a tight, short skirt, and a full-length coat buttoned to the waist, allowing the men a flash of leg as she walked. Unseen by the men was a see-through blouse, under which was a black lace bra. She was on her way to an unannounced visit to Dave’s apartment, the purpose of which was to drive him crazy with desire and leave.
To a casual observer she was just another stylish young woman in a world class city. To Malone she was a gift. He gathered weaknesses like so many acorns in a squirrel’s nest, to be used as necessary. Elena was one of Dave’s weaknesses and Malone was happy she was back in the nest. He had been tracking her and his task became easy when she gave up her adventure in New York, so now all he had to do was sit and wait. She looked good, he mused, as he watched her. He envied Dave. At least for the time being.
Another pair of eyes was watching Elena approach the Philadelphia House. Father Darius was standing at the window of a four-story building that bore the flag of a Baltic nation. The building was part of a trade mission and he was there claiming to be an agent for a medium-sized U.S. firm wishing to do business overseas. It was mere fortune that put him at the window as Elena walked into the lobby of Philadelphia House. He had hoped for no more than a glimpse of Dave. He had planned to savor a small moment of allowing himself a fantasy to be played out in coming days. Elena was the Madonna he could barely bring himself to imagine.
The young man who called himself Richard was working behind the desk when Elena buzzed the door. He smiled as he recognized her and pressed the small button under the desk to release the lock. She looked radiant and her skin was glowing from the cold air. Richard was overwhelmed by her beauty. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said. “We haven’t seen you in awhile. You have been missed.” His accent was a mix of African and French and gave him an elegant, formal air.
“You’re as handsome as ever,” she replied, offering a dazzling smile. “Is the ace reporter in?”
“I believe he is, yes. Shall I tell him you’re coming?”
“Oh no! I want him to be surprised. Do you have any mail I can bring up?”
Richard went to the mailboxes and retrieved a small package. “Just this.”
Elena took the elevator and her hands were shaking as she walked to Dave’s door, took a deep breath and knocked. There was no answer, so she knocked again. Dave was sleeping in a chair and the sound from the door was incorporated into a dream he was having in which he was running down an alley, trying to catch a man who looked like Peppers. The knocking became pounding and Dave woke up, imagining that the apartment was on fire. He ran to the door and opened it, breathing hard. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming. He stared at Elena and his eyes began to tear.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” She walked past him and into the apartment.
“Elena?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I was sleeping.” He stood at the open door and watched her take off her coat. She was dazzling in a way that made him light headed.
“Can we talk?” Her voice was like music.
He closed the door and rubbed his face. “Can I get you some coffee?”
She sat down and said nothing. He went to the kitchen and made two cups of espresso and tried to get his thoughts together. Were they going to fight? Make up? The moment clearly was hers to define. He put the cups on the table and sat across from her. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? You should be at my door begging me to take you back. Instead, I’m here, waiting for you to make it up to me.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Well?”
“What can I say?”
She slapped the table with both hands. “What can you say? What can you say? You shit! You can say you’re sorry! You can say you’ll do whatever it takes to get me back!”She stood up and walked to the window. The light made her blouse transparent and he could see the lace bra and her perfect body. He wanted her but his emotions were shut down. His brain did not offer him any solution. He was mute.
She turned to face him with tears in her eyes. “You better say something.”
He sat like a man in shame and looked at the floor. He loved her but he was powerless to say it. He didn’t know what saying it would mean, so the words would not come out. It was the same story, told again. She frightened him and he felt as though he would lose himself and all that he had become if he gave himself over to her. She was strong and he was weak. He imagined himself as a pathetic dog following her around, waiting for table scraps of life. She overwhelmed him and he felt ashamed.
She walked to him and slapped his face, then she picked up her coat the walked out. He heard her footsteps down the hall and her weeping was loud enough to carry nearly to the lobby. He sat in his chair and admitted to himself that he had to find the strength to get up and make a move with his life. He had never felt this way about a woman and his helplessness troubled him as much as his feelings about Elena. He made another cup of coffee. He saw that she had a left a package on the table, a small, wrapped box. The wrapping looked familiar. He opened it and found a small, arrow-shaped razor wrapped in gauze. Blood covered most of it. There was no note.
In the lobby, a nondescript middle-aged man sat reading the Washington Post. He had told Richard at the desk that he was there to meet a real estate agent about one of the units available for rent. He could have been one of a thousand guys on the street at that moment, which was the point. Richard would have a hard time offering a detailed description to anyone asking about the man. “You know, he was middle aged, white guy, suit. I don’t remember anything else.”
The man watched Elena storm by dabbing her eyes. He made a show of looking at his watch before he stood up and waved to Richard. “I guess she’s not going to show up.” He walked out behind Elena and watched her turn west to Dupont Circle. Another pair of eyes watched from a window across the street. Father Darius smiled. He knew who was coming for him and it made him happy. He exited the building into an alley that took him to 18th Street. He walked south to a small parking garage where he retrieved the MG and drove across the Potomac into Virginia. He wanted to pray, rest, and eat a good meal.
Butterfly Knife Page 13
