As I begin walking back to the hotel, I start to ponder how I’m going to invite someone whom I have no idea how to find. He’s always found me, just appearing out of nowhere. What if he doesn’t just appear again? What if he’s gotten what he came for and has left? I don’t think I’ve given him much reason to stay. While all he’s wanted is some answers, I’ve stayed as tight-lipped as a clam. Well, except for that kiss.
“It would be so easy if I could just shine the Bat-light in the sky like on TV.” I joke to myself, with a chuckle.
Without knowing the name he registered under, I have no chance of finding him at one of the local hotels. Though my gut tells me he can’t be far, since he’s done a good job of tailing me up until now. I pay close attention to my surroundings, hoping to catch view of him. But I reach the hotel, having no luck.
On a hunch, I stop at the front desk. I ask the clerk if there were any messages left for room 422. He acknowledges that there is indeed one message.
“Mr. Lovegrove left a message saying he was sorry he missed you, but that he’d catch up with you when he could.”
I thank the clerk and walk away puzzled by the message. Jones only left that morning. Why would he have returned already?
I still find it difficult to believe that this silly little man could be running Centre. I recall the day he revealed himself to me. I found the whole story so incredulous that I laughed heartily. It was only after seeing that he was not amused by my fit of laughter that the reality of the situation sank in. By the time his ‘interior decorator’ had arrived, I was up to my eyeballs in this mess. I shake my head not wanting to think about all the events that followed. Living through it once was enough.
Reaching my hotel room, I slip the card key into the lock. Once inside, I see that the maid has already come and gone. With the drapes closed the room appears dark except for the glow of sunlight around the edges of the drapes. Following my gut instinct, I reach into my purse. Catching sight of the slight movement, I take aim.
“You won’t be needing that,” the darkness answers.
“Mr. Lovegrove?”
~~~~~
Through the darkness, I detect her lowering the gun.
“Must you always wait for me in the dark? One of these days, it’s going to get you killed, Michael.” Nikita says in her raspy voice, returning the gun to her purse and dropping it with a thud onto the table.
She glides past me, moving to open the heavy drapes, dispelling the darkness of the room. Nikita remains there, gazing out the glass doors with a pleased look on her face.
“I assume with your surveillance, you know Jones has left for Centre. I’m sure you wouldn’t be so bold otherwise.” She turns to see my response.
But I know a verbal response is unnecessary. Instead I just look up at her intently. Eventually, Nikita becomes uncomfortable by my silence and moves toward the ornately carved antique vanity across the room. Twisting her hair up in a knot, she begins to examine her image in the mirror. However, from her body language I deduce she’s fretting over something other than her appearance.
I rise and move toward her stealthfully. Despite seeing my image in the mirror, she jumps slightly as I rest my hands on her shoulders. I begin to knead my fingers into her shoulders and neck, trying to massage the tension out. At first she stiffens in response, but then begins to relax, allowing me closer. I brush my lips past her ear and whisper, “Just ask.”
She turns to look at me incredulously. “Ask what?”
“The question you’re trying to find a way to ask.” Grinning, I reply in a whisper, showing my pleasure at her quandary.
“If you already know, then I don’t need to, do I?” Nikita questions. Her eyes carefully examine my demeanor. “So you do have audio surveillance on me as well. Should I bother checking the room for your bug?”
I smile silently, as I’m enjoying her defensive stance, especially how she accentuated the word ‘bug’.
“As you like.” I casually reply. “But if I’m going to get involved in this, I’d like to know more about the profile. I think you owe me that, since I will be doing you a favor.”
Nikita nods. Then, she opens the bureau drawer, pulls out a panel, and tosses it toward me.
“There’s everything you need to know about Knowles, his wife, and their business. We’re to meet them at the Marina around noon tomorrow. I wasn’t given a defined itinerary—just that we’ll be sailing up the French Riviera for pleasure. I don’t think the business aspect will come up since ‘my husband’ is away.”
I hold the panel up by the corner and ask, “This has everything you know? You’re not leaving anything out that I should be aware of?”
“No, that’s everything I have.” Nikita reassures.
“Isn’t Jones concerned how his departure may appear?” I ask, as it does strike me as curious at the very least.
“He didn’t seem to be. But it does concern me, since it appears we’re reaching the stage where a deal could commence. I don’t think I would have taken such a chance.” Nikita answers.
“His departure also could have been orchestrated to set me up.” I suggest, watching her carefully for a reaction.
“I guess that could be another possible explanation.“ Nikita answers looking directly at me. “You still don’t trust me. Which I understand and respect. Michael, I’m not trying to coerce you into anything you feel uncomfortable doing. I give you my word that I’m not trying to set you up, if it’s worth anything.”
I’m not sure how wise it is, but I do trust her. I sense that Nikita’s concern over this mission lies particularly on Richard Knowles. His admiration of her has not escaped me.
But the timing of Jones’ departure does concern me, as well as the Knowles’ extension of his invitation to include me. I need to study the intel and consider these questions carefully.
“I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning, then?”
Nikita appears a bit taken aback as I announce my departure.
“Yes…tomorrow.”
~~~~~
With our arrival at the Knowles’ yacht, La Luna, Michael and I are greeted warmly, as Desiree bids us to come aboard. Our bags are taken by Pierre, as we exchange introductions and pleasantries with Desiree. I soon find myself annoyed with her flirtatious manner toward Michael. But before long, Richard joins us on deck.
“Michael, I’m glad you were able to accompany Nikita today. Keeps the testosterone/estrogen levels more equal aboard the ship. With just Desiree and Nikita, I’d be forced to endure conversations about fashion, hair, and make-up,” Richard quips.
Uncertain that Richard’s attempt at male bonding was as sincere as he sounded, I look toward Michael to see his response. Michael politely smiles and replies, “This is quite an impressive boat you’ve got here. Must have set you back a good bit.”
“Ah, yes. But it’s well worth the price. Let me show you both around.” Richard says as he bids us to follow.
Michael steps aside, allowing Desiree and I to follow first. Going below deck, we start by touring the modernly equipped galley and elegant dining area. We soon come to know that the Knowles have several crew members aboard, one of which is their cook, who is preparing lunch.
Next we enter the spacious living area with a full entertainment center stocked with movies on DVD and music CDs. Additionally, there is bar stocked with a large selection of liquor. Richard offers to prepare drinks for everyone. Desiree and I opt for Puligny Montrachet, while Michael asks for a brandy. Richard pours himself a brandy as well.
Heading toward the rear of the boat, we reach the master bedroom. This room has a nautical theme, with blue and gray colors. Next we reach another bedroom, where our items have been placed. The colors of this room are warmer, with corals and sandy beige. A seashell and fish theme pervades.
With our tour complete, we return to the front deck to sit and enjoy the view as the boat begins to cruise up the coast. Michael appears unlike I’ve ever seen him before. Wearing a light shirt unbuttoned halfway and jean shorts, he appears very much at ease. Desiree begins asking about where he grew up, since she detected his accent.
As he explains, I fade away, watching the rocky coastline and the other boats on the Mediterranean. With the sea air blowing through my hair, I find myself caught in my own reverie. Finally, I turn back to find his green eyes smiling on me.
~~~~~~
As I explain to a very intent Desiree about my upbringing near Marseilles, I notice that Nikita is staring off toward the coastline. Her blonde hair whips behind her as she peers into the wind. Her blue bikini top shows through her thin, almost sheer shirt. As she turns back, I see a hint of cleavage peaking through. My beautiful valkyrie, wild and mysterious. What secrets do you hide?
Avoiding more of Desiree’s questions, I move to sit beside Nikita on the padded bench. I casually place my arm across the rail behind her. Nikita turns the conversation to travel destinations on the French Riviera, indicating this is her first trip in this part of France. Desiree begins to answer her first.
“I just adore Cannes. The nightlife, the people. It’s a beautiful city that attracts beautiful people.”
“Cannes is nice off-season. I like to explore it when the crowds are gone. But I prefer Marseilles. It’s richer in history and tradition. And it will always feel like home to me, even though I don’t get there much anymore.” I reply. From her art background, it does not surprise me that she looks for the beauty in the things around her. But I am surprised how superficial she appears. Perhaps it is only for show?
“Then you haven’t taken Nikita to Marseilles, yet?” Richard deduces.
“No. It’s not so simple considering she’s not mine to take.” Nikita looks away in response. “But perhaps one day.” The duality of my statement is intentional.
I begin to trace my fingers along her neck. She leans forward, shrugging away my touch, but I see a smile cross her lips.
“Lunch should be served very soon.” Richard switches the topic. “Louis is a master. I can assure you that anything he makes is pure heaven. I don’t look forward to the day someone steals him away.”
Then looking around, Richard asks, “Anyone need a refill?”
I indicate that I’m fine, but Nikita and Desiree ask for another glass of wine. Richard returns below to get the drink refills.
“So Michael, what do you do for a living?” Desiree asks.
I sense a bit of tension in Nikita’s body. But I’m prepared for the question and answer it with ease.
“I’m a security consultant. I design security systems for both businesses and residences.”
“Ahh…I see. A technical field I’d know nothing about.” Desiree muses, and then changes the topic again. “I’m glad to see you came prepared Nikita. After lunch, you and I can lounge out here in the sun, while the men can try out some fishing. I think Richard brought along a new pole. You do fish, Michael?”
“I haven’t in years. But I’m sure I’ll manage.” I answer.
My suspicions are heightened as the actions of our hosts appear too polite. Too friendly. Like the spider enticing the fly into its web.
Though the question remains—what is their angle?
~~~~
Having spent the afternoon in the sun, Desiree and I go below deck to freshen up. I’m taken off guard as Desiree follows me into my room. She comfortably plops down on my bed as if we were old chums.
“I know it’s rather forward of me to ask this, but….” She starts. “What is the nature of your relationship with Michael?”
Her question throws me for a second as I try to fathom what she’s really asking.
“Nature?”
“Is it only about the sex? Is he just your boy toy? Or does it go deeper?” Desiree asks bluntly.
A choking laugh escapes. I really wasn’t expecting such directness. What does she want from me? Permission to fuck him? I’ve seen her eyeing him all afternoon. I turn away from her, afraid of what could come out of my mouth.
“The sexual chemistry between you is quite apparent. You both hold such beauty. Strength. Passion.” Desiree now stands behind me, accentuating each word. Her fingers brush my cheek before running through my hair. I see the intent expression on her face in the mirror. Intent on me!
“It’s not often that Richard and I find the same woman attractive.”
I suddenly feel naked. Vulnerable. It takes all my strength to keep myself from pulling away from her touch. I had not expected this turn of events. Acting too receptive could backfire while shunning her may prove to be detrimental. I need to find some middle ground.
“My relationship with Michael is more than casual. I’d venture to say he even loves me.” I turn towards her.
“So you’d say it’s on solid ground? Despite your husband?” she further enquires.
“Yes.” I say with some uncertainty, unsure where this is leading. I repeat my affirmation more strongly, not wanting her to misconstrue my tone. Desiree smiles at my response.
“Perhaps an arrangement can be made, if all parties are agreeable and open to alternatives. Think about it.” Desiree grazes her fingers against my chin in an admiring way. As she walks to the doorway, Michael appears. She presents a large flirtatious smile to him, before exiting.
Michael gives me a questioning look, undoubtedly witnessing the stupor on my face.
Still in disbelief I merely utter, “We’ve just been propositioned.”
~~~~~
“I see.”
That’s all he could say. As if it had been no surprise to him. Instead his eyes carefully study me. Unblinking.
I turn away, annoyed with his lack of reaction. Kneeling down, I root through my duffle bag, looking for my hairbrush. When I finally locate it, I turn toward the mirror and begin to vigorously brush my wind-tossed hair. Ripping through the knots is almost therapeutic for me at this point.
How could I love a man I find so aggravating at times? One so difficult to read or understand.
After several strokes, Michael takes hold of my hand, removing the brush from my grip. He motions for me to look forward. As I comply, he begins to lightly brush my hair. Closing my eyes, I try to relax with each rhythmic stroke. But his proximity has my skin tingling. Only Michael could make such a simple thing become so erotic.
With the sound of my hairbrush hitting the surface of the bureau, I open my eyes. Focusing on the image in the mirror, I see Michael gently pushing my hair from my bare shoulder. He leans in, brushing his moist lips against my skin. A soft gasp of delight escapes my lips as he reaches for my breasts, stroking their firm tips beneath the fabric.
I know I shouldn’t let this progress, but I lack the will to stop him. We are acting as lovers, after all. But I fear I will only hurt him more in the end. That’s the last thing I want to do.
I turn toward him, taking his chin in my hand. I feel myself getting choked up as his deep green eyes filled with passion meet my pale blue ones. I look away with uncertainty, fearful he can see the secrets I hold inside. Still angry with myself, I don’t want him to forgive me so easily.
But he doesn’t let my mixed feelings hinder him. Instead, his strong hands lift me, placing me atop the smooth surface of the bureau. My knees separate as he pushes forward to tease me with his lips, each time coming closer but withholding the kiss. When his lips finally touch mine, I return his kiss hungrily, consumed with my anticipation. He grasps my buttocks pulling me close, pressing his body against mine. My own arousal increases exponentially as I feel his eagerness.
Caught up in our embrace, I’m unaware of his actions, until I feel the bikini top slide from my body. I quiver as his mouth explores my body in search of bringing me pleasure. I thread my fingers in his thick hair as the longing within me builds.
He pauses and looks up at me with a glint in his eye. Michael slides his shirt off with ease, tossing it onto the chair. I bite my lip as my hands caress his bare chest. Leaning in for another kiss, he lifts me from my seat atop the bureau. I cling to him until he lets me down. Then, Michael motions with his hand for me to turn around. Facing the mirror, I see his image behind mine. I grin with the realization of his intention—to have me view our lovemaking.
He reaches to unfasten the button of his jean shorts. Hot and impatient, it seems like I’m waiting an eternity.
“I could help you with that,” I tease.
“I’m sure you could. But I have something else in mind that you can help me with.” Michael leans in and whispers.
His hand reaches around, pressing against my stomach pulling me fiercely against him, as his need matches mine. I expel a moan as I feel his hardness pressed firmly against me. I bite my lip as his fingers reach to test my moist depths and move to stroke me. I whimper with each wave of pleasure, pushing harder against him. Michael tastes my shoulder and neck, nipping me with his teeth as I writhe in his arms. Losing control, I moan his name.
Pushed forward, I reach to grasp the bureau before me. I rest my head on my arms, gazing at the image of Michael above and behind me. He draws a line down my lower back with the tip of his tongue and looks up with a pleased grin. Grasping my hips, he leans in closer. I feel his warm breath on my back. I close my eyes briefly as he moves to enter me with a gentle thrust followed by a more urgent one. Deeper and harder, I’m caught between the building pleasure and pain.
My breathing becomes more labored as does his. With each stroke, dizzying euphoria sweeps over me. One wave after the next, I soar higher and higher. My legs begin to feel weak beneath me, as my body tingles with splendid sensation. Michael’s grip becomes tighter with his last few thrusts. I feel his control crumbling. A cry slips from his lips as he trembles with release.
After a moment, we slip to our knees, spent. Just over my own breathing, I hear him gulping for air as he moves in closer to caress my cheek with his lips. Lifting us back on our feet, he backs me toward the bed. Michael takes a seat and looks up at me with his sparkling green eyes. Childlike, I climb into his lap, exhausted and content. Reaching my arms around his neck, I rest my head against his chest, hoping the moment might never end.
~~~~
Nikita rests her head against my heaving chest, out of breath herself. I touch my lips to her forehead. We just sit on the edge of the bed, content holding each other.
She loves me. She loves me not. Do I believe her actions or her words? Does it even matter?
Yes.
Yes, it matters to me. I want to possess more than her body. I want her soul. The question remains whether Section took it from her. And from me.
I feel her hair against my chin as she rests against me, breathing a deep sigh. She traces her fingers across my chest with care. Nikita always had difficulty with Valentine missions, separating the emotional aspect from the sexual intimacy. Has she overcome that? Or had that always been for my benefit? Was I just an extended Valentine mission? Section’s number one Valentine operative duped by another Valentine. My own material. The irony of that thought brings a stifled laugh to my throat.
Nikita looks up at me with curiosity. I just shake my head and answer, “I was remembering another time. Bauer.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Who could forget that?” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “A lot has happened since then.”
I know she understands what I mean. It doesn’t need to be spelled out. But she fails to realize that it’s a suitable answer to cover for what I’m really thinking. As much as I would like, I can’t blind myself to these possibilities. My ten years in Section has taught me that deception is a way of life—a way to survive. And Nikita is a survivor.
I still see a sadness in her. It’s subtle. Unnoticeable to anyone else. But I see it. She still clutches her secrets deep inside. Our trust remains shattered. Scattered pieces on the ground. Can we piece it back together?
Only if she works with me rather than against me. I’m just as uncertain today as I was that fateful day in the woods as to where her loyalty lies. Making love to her has only brought me more doubts than answers.
She looks to me again before speaking. There’s the sadness again. I’m sure of it. She breathes a sigh before breaking the silence.
“We better get cleaned up. They’re expecting us to dine with them. They may begin to wonder what’s keeping us.” Her fingers smooth my hair behind my ear with tenderness.
Instead of releasing her, I lean in to nibble her earlobe, whispering, “I’m sure they already know. More than likely the mirror is two-way and we’ve been added to their video collection.” I grin as her reaction slips through before she catches herself. I finally relent and let her leave my arms.
I lean back onto the bed proudly as I watch her move toward the bathroom to shower. Nikita has always been a challenge. One I can’t seem to walk away from. Even now.
~~~~
After an exquisite dinner created by Louis, we move above deck to enjoy the pleasant evening air. Desiree is already working on a good buzz, chattering at Nikita who looks less than interested. Richard casts his attention at the women’s conversation, since he and I appear to have little in common. The afternoon of fishing exhausted his repertoire of niceties.
Excusing myself, I head below deck. Nodding at Louis in the galley, I walk toward the lavatories. But once out of his sight, I make a detour to stop at our hosts’ room. I’m not certain what I’m looking for, but that has never stopped me before.
First, I look through their drawers. Just clothing. And an envelope of pictures. Finding these interesting, I stash them in my pocket to inspect more closely later. I press on, moving to the bathroom medicine cabinet. There I find a vial of prescription anti-depressants. It seems Desiree has some problems. Besides Richard. Mixing liquor and pills, such a healthy combination. I replace the vial in the cabinet and see nothing else noteworthy. As I retreat toward the door, I hear a faint noise. Closing out the lights, I hide in the shadows and wait.
My body tenses as I hear the door handle turning. I remain very still as my eyes focus on opening door. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s Nikita. I slowly come from hiding as she shuts the door behind her. Her icy blue eyes glare at me with vexation.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She whispers with irritation. “If we get caught snooping around in here….”
“I’d just explain.”
“Explain what?”
“That we like the thrill of possibly being caught in the act. The act of trying out their bed.” I say, glancing toward it.
“Oh, wonderful. That way they can offer to join in with us,” Nikita replies, full of sarcasm.
“I’d just indicate that I don’t like to share. I never have. Ever since I was a boy.” I reply matter-of-factly, touching her face gently.
“Don’t get any ideas, mister. You’ve already had your way with me today. We need to get out of here. Now.” Nikita responds, moving my hand from her face.
“I’d like to think you were a willing participant.” I look her directly in the eye.
Nikita lets my last comment pass and impatiently pulls me toward the door, “Let’s go!” She carefully opens the door and peers out. The coast is clear. Nikita leads the way as we creep down the hall past the empty galley. As we reach the stairs, we meet Richard coming down.
“Ahh, there you two are. We were beginning to wonder.” Richard indicates. “I was going to refresh everyone’s drinks.”
“No more wine for me. It’s gone straight to my head.” Nikita replies. “Some hot tea would be nice, if it wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Not at all. And for you Michael? I’ve got a splendid local beer you may want to try.”
“Sure. That would be fine.”
As Richard gets the beverages, Nikita and I navigate the stairs to rejoin Desiree.
“Don’t try anymore stunts like that. Please.” Nikita growls in a whisper to me, looking grim. She grabs my wrist tightly, emphasizing that she’s serious. Then, Nikita quickly releases me and replaces a smile on her face as we come into Desiree’s view.
“I was beginning to worry that you might miss a picturesque sunset. But it looks like you’ve made it in time,” calls out a bubbly Desiree.
As Nikita peers over the side toward the reddening sky, I slip my arms around her, leaning my head against hers. ‘Picturesque’ pales in comparison to this marvelous splendor of color splashing onto the water below.
I look on knowing that nightfall will follow shortly. And with darkness, comes much uncertainty on a boat named for the orbiting satellite above. La Luna. The moon.
~~~~~
With darkness we choose to retire below deck. Flitting around like a butterfly, a giddy Desiree somehow reaches the topic of astrology and Tarot cards. I quietly listen as I have little to contribute to this topic. Sensing my ignorance, Desiree determines that I must have a reading done. As she rushes off to retrieve her cards, I’m both curious and a bit apprehensive. Part of me doesn’t believe in this sort of stuff. But a small part of me is concerned. What if the cards tell her more about me then I want her to know?
Richard shakes his head in disdain. “Don’t tell me you buy into this stuff. A bunch of rubbish. That’s what it is. I’ll leave you ladies to your foolishness.”
My more rational side concurs with Richard’s assessment, as I brush my fear aside. Desiree returns bringing a small wooden box decorated with a Celtic knot carving. She carefully opens the lid and lifts the scarf-wrapped deck from it. After unwinding the shear scarf from the cards, she places the deck before me.
“What do I do?” I ask, feeling a bit awkward.
“Shuffle the cards however you like. You can think of a particular question or you can have a general reading done. Many times the cards will focus on something of great importance to you, even when you ask a particular question.” Desiree explains.
I start to shuffle the cards clumsily. They are bigger than any playing cards I’ve ever used. I’m not sure what to ask or think. I try to blank everything out of my mind, hoping to conceal my entanglements.
“Er…How long do I shuffle?”
“Until you feel you’ve shuffled enough.” She replies as I drop a few cards. Reaching down to retrieve them, I meet a pair of green eyes. Standing back up he hands the cards to me. I hadn’t realized his proximity or interest in my tarot reading before this point. I had assumed he had left with Richard.
Refocusing on Desiree, I shuffle the cards two more times and then set them on the table. She retrieves the deck and turns over the cards in a cross-like pattern. After replacing the deck on the table, Desiree appears contemplative as she looks over my cards.
I’m not sure what each card means but I gaze at the images illustrated on the cards. Each one is unique and appears to tell a story. My attention focuses on one in particular. The Devil. This card appears very dark and frightening, with a man and a woman bound to the devil. I swallow hard uncertain I want to know what my future may hold.
“Ok, the first card indicates the general atmosphere that surrounds your question. Or in this case it can describe you directly. The Queen of Wands. You know what you want in life and you pursue it when possible. People are drawn to your enthusiasm. Your generosity. Your vitality. You try to solve others’ problems but at times you can make those problems worse.”
“Crossing the Queen of Wands is the Moon. This card generally means there is something that is not what it seems. You need to follow your own inner light to lead you the right way. And you must be vigilant to find the truth and follow the path of light or you may be doomed to wander lost in the dark.”
I chuckle to myself wondering if the card doesn’t literally mean the moon—La Luna, the boat. So far nothing seems too far off base. I look up to see Michael’s green eyes studying me.
“Crowning you is the High Priestess. This card is a possible outcome card. It deals much with the subconscious and intuition. The High Priestess holds many secrets and mysteries. She often indicates that answers can be found within ourselves. Also, she represents that shadows lie within ourselves. The negative aspects we may not acknowledge or realize are there.”
My mind twists trying to understand what this card means. How is this an outcome when it brings more questions than answers?
“Beneath you is the Fool. A dreamer. A person who follows his heart despite what others may say. This card indicates what has already past. Sometimes referred to as the distant past. The Fool also represents the first step in the Journey detailed in the Major Arcana. We are all the Fool at some point in our life.”
“Major Arcana?” I ask, wearing my ignorance openly.
“The Tarot is composed of Major and Minor Arcana. The Minor Arcana are reminiscent of playing cards. There are four suits, Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles, with number cards from Ace to ten, and court cards of Page, Knight, Queen, and King. The Major Arcana are 22 unique cards numbered 0 to 21, but known by their names rather than their numbers. The Fool is the first card followed by the Magician, the High Priestess, etc., ending with the World.”
I nod, allowing her to continue with her reading.
“Behind you is the Eight of Swords. It indicates your recent past. This card shows a woman bound and hoodwinked surrounded by swords. It likely indicates that you felt trapped, unable to move out of a situation. Powerless. But notice her legs are not bound. This indicates that perhaps a self-imposed restriction was holding you back. “
“Before you is the Emperor. This card is coming into play in the near future. He is the authority figure. A leader. Strong and wise, he imposes rules to preserve order and security.”
“Does this card actually represent a person?” I ask with great interest.
“Most times, yes. Otherwise it symbolizes authority and power that should be wielded with care.”
Michael’s attention is drawn to Desiree. Pleased, she smiles cunningly before turning her focus on the line of cards next to the cross. My attention remains on this woman whom I tend to distrust. But knowing nothing of Tarot cards, I’m forced to accept her assessment of the cards.
Starting from the bottom card she continues, “This card indicates you and your attitude towards the matter. In this position lies the Devil. This card again refers to you being bound to a darker side of your existence. You need to realize that you are capable of evil. By understanding that, you will be able to keep it from having free reign over you. The Devil is like a cancer, destroying you from within. As the Eight of Swords portrayed earlier, the devil indicates that you allow yourself to be bound, becoming a victim to no one but your own restrictions. You allow others to control you. You are your own demon. But, if instead you re-focus on the light that still resides within you, these chains that bind you can be shed. For regaining hope will be your salvation.”
I find this card particularly interesting, finding a parallel to my bondage to Section and Centre. Is there still light within me? I’m not sure anymore.
“The next card is your environment and the attitude of the people surrounding you. This card is Temperance reversed. If this card were upright it would indicate harmony and growth. Two beings acting as one. Because this card is reversed it shows competing interests and separation.“
“The third card is represents your hopes and fears. The 10 of Cups reversed. This card bears great happiness and contentment in its upright position. Peace and Love. But reversed it demonstrates your fear of loss and betrayal. A fear that you may never find that perfect happiness or peace.”
“The last card is another possible outcome. This is the Empress. She represents Mother Earth. Fertility and Beauty. Her power is that of creation. She is also a leader like the emperor, but leads with loving care. Her only weakness is that of being over-protective of her creations. The theme of motherhood is strong with this card.”
“This reading is filled with Major Arcana. As much as the reading shows that you need to do some soul-searching, the sheer number of Major Arcana indicate this situation is controlled greatly by other people and their actions. Very interesting. And this last card has me curious. It could be suggesting you will be a mother soon.”
I can’t suppress the laughter welling within me. Me? A mother? Here I was worried that this reading would reveal things about me that I wanted to remain hidden. Instead it vaguely pointed to some issues within me, but otherwise nothing concrete. I’m not even sure I believe what the cards are saying. Especially the motherhood part.
“The cards can allow us to look within ourselves for the answers. But we are the masters of our own destiny. We always have the ability to change our path. The cards just show the possible outcomes of the path we currently follow.”
Silent throughout the entire reading, Michael asks, “Do you mind reading my cards?”
I find myself floored by the thought that Michael could possibly give credence to such an illogical method of foreseeing the future. Perhaps he’s asking in order to maintain a cover of gullibility? Despite my misgivings, I cannot help but watch Michael’s reading with great interest.
~~~~~
As Desiree hands me the deck, Nikita’s eyes, wide with curiosity, focus on me. I carefully shuffle the cards three times. Smoothing my hands across the edges, I place the precisely piled cards on the table and nod to Desiree to commence.
She takes the cards in her hands closing her eyes for a moment. Then, she proceeds to deal the cards in the same Celtic cross layout. In silence, Desiree eyes the cards. “Lots of swords in this layout. Indicating angst and strife.” Then she peers up at me, looking for any reaction.
Carefully pushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, she begins, “The first card which covers you is The Knight of Swords. Appearing emotionless, the Knight succeeds where others may fail. It’s not that he lacks emotions, but instead he suppresses them, seeing little value in having emotion. He is the perfect person to implement ideas that others shy from.” “The second card crosses you. In this case it’s the 2 of Swords. It shows a hoodwinked woman balancing two swords. She holds them across her heart, perhaps symbolizing a closed heart. Stalemate. If referring to a relationship, this card indicates a barrier between two partners. This card often represents situations where the truth can be found, but one or both partners chooses not to see it.”
I repress any external response, but the accuracy thus far shakes me a bit. I’m curious as to Nikita’s reaction, however I choose to remain focused on Desiree and the cards so as not to convey either accuracy or lack thereof to our hostess.
“Next is the card that crowns you. The 7 of Wands is a possible outcome. This card shows a man defending himself against six armed foes. It’s about facing your fears and being ready for each obstacle that crosses your path. You can have no courage without fear. Hold your ground and you will surely be victorious.”
“Beneath you is the World. This is the last Major Arcana card. The end of the journey, with the next ready to begin. You bask in the fruits of your toil for now. A time of perfect bliss. But the cycle will begin again. And indeed it has for you, since this card is beneath you.”
“Behind you is the 3 of swords. A very painful card associated with rejection, heartbreak, betrayal, separation and grief. Even more painful because it is unexpected. But without pain, life would be without challenge. It pushes you to overcome obstacles. It may hinder your vision for a time, but eventually it allows you to see more clearly.”
Casually, I look towards Nikita and witness her biting her thumb. I sense discomfort and tenseness in her shoulders. Her reaction to this card intrigues me. Does she regret her actions?
“Before you is the Hanged Man. Within this card lies a paradox. The lessons it gives are easy to understand, but the hardest to accept as they apply to you. Admitting fear will allow you to conquer it. In Vulnerability, you will find strength. Relinquishing your desire to control, will allow everything to fall into place. Rather than fighting against the current, go with the flow.”
I find this card the most interesting. I can see how it pertains to me. But what does Fate have in store for me? Releasing control over my situation is not something I’m comfortable doing.
“The Hermit represents your attitude toward the matter. He symbolizes a journey to seek answers within one’s self. He finds the need to separate himself from outer turmoil and withdraw from the people around him, entering the dark in order to find the light. But eventually he will return holding the wisdom he has sought. His appearance in a tarot layout generally is a call to learn more about yourself and your nature of existence. Additionally, The Hermit many times serves as a mentor, guiding his student toward the path of wisdom. But he must remember that his wisdom is different from his student’s, and allow his student to find his own inner light.”
“Your environment and the attitude of those around you is shown by the Star reversed. Where the Star represents hope and inspiration in its upright position, reversed it indicates a loss of these things. Those around you feel pessimism and doubt. Uncertainty. They have lost faith and direction.
“In the position of hopes and fears, is the Queen of Swords reversed. You fear deceit, malice, and unreliability. Perhaps embodied by a particular woman, since it is the card of the Queen.”
“The outcome seen here is the 2 of Cups. In contrast to the 2 of Swords seen earlier, the 2 of Cups shows two people, a man and a woman, facing each other. A harmonious union. It represents the love between two parts of one person, rather than two individuals. Soul mates. It lacks the strength of the major Arcana card, the Lovers. Thus, indicating that this union may be shaken by external forces. It is uncertain if this union can stand the test of time, but that depends on the stability and the will of the two people involved.”
I nod, finding some encouragement in this outcome card. If that is indeed what Fate has in store. But the idea that I need to release any control and trust completely in fate, is foreign to me. I can’t help noticing that the alternative outcome card speaks of a battle. My guess is that it may have little to do with my relationship with Nikita. However, I could be wrong, given the current state of affairs. The reading is intriguing, but leaves me with no concrete answers. Just more questions.
But that is the nature of Tarot as I’ve known it. It provokes the questions necessary to move toward enlightenment. One just needs to recognize the lessons that life tries to teach us.
Glancing, toward the living area, I note that Richard remains uninterested in our Tarot session. Instead, he is browsing through a magazine with his legs propped up. From his statement to Nikita, I gather he does not approve of his wife’s interest in Tarot. Their differences have become more pronounced to me during this trip. What is it that they have in common?
“Considering the amount of swords your reading contained, the outcome shows some promise.” Desiree remarks as she wraps the cards in their scarf. I thank Desiree for the readings as she prepares to stow the cards away.
Turning back toward Nikita, I find her staring off, as if a million miles away. Sensing that we both could use some time away from our hosts, I address Nikita, “Love, you look tired from this long day. Perhaps we should retire for the evening?”
~~~~
Michael’s voice permeates my entranced state. I’m uncertain what he said, but I am certain he addressed me.
“Huh?” I mumble as I look up at him. I feel transparent as his green eyes focus on me.
“I suggested that we retire for the night since you appear to be tired.”
“I’m fine, really. Just thinking.” I stammer. Not that I really want to be here. But I’m not certain I want to be alone with Michael, either. He knows me too well.
Both Tarot readings have stirred up my thoughts and emotions. Do the cards hold my future? Or is it just my imagination running overtime? I’ve seen enough frauds during my time on the streets to be skeptical of anyone claiming to see the future. But the fact that I could see our lives mirrored in the description of the cards unsettles me. It’s too eerie for my taste. I’m not certain that even with surveillance could someone contrive this reading.
Be strong, Nikita. Don’t let your emotions control you.
My mantra. That’s all it is--my emotions reading something into some silly cards. A simple distraction. One that I cannot afford.
Stay focused on the end game.
It’s all I have left. I can’t be grasping at a future that is not mine.
Sensing my melancholy, Michael begins to prowl around me with his ears perked up. I almost expect him to begin rubbing against me with a purr in his throat. Marking me as his. My skin prickles with electricity as his hand touches my skin. His adept fingers begin to rub the base of my neck, kneading at my tenseness.
“You do look tired to me.” He muses, moving his fingertips upward to massage my scalp.
Releasing a sigh, I give in to his persuasiveness. “Perhaps you’re right. I probably shouldn’t fight it. But I really didn’t want put a damper on the evening.”
Lying is becoming far too easy for me. Almost second nature. I think I’m even lying to myself these days. That’s not a good sign. The cards are right. Where once I did see myself as a light inside Section’s dark existence, now I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve learned to close off my emotions. Just like Michael. Though, I must admit he is the master at it. I’m still working to achieve his skill.
Michael gently kisses the edge of my forehead as Desiree returns. Her expectant smile turns to a disappointed frown as Michael makes our excuses. Richard just nods his head above his magazine. His quiet demeanor this evening strikes me as odd. Truth be told, this whole trip has been odd. Like a surreal dream just before dawn. Vivid, yet nonsensical. I feel as if the answers are right before me, but just out of reach.
I can only guess that Richard’s behavior is that of a disappointed child who had his play date cancelled. But that can’t be helped. Valentine overtures were not part of the profile. Especially not of the lipstick variety. It’s bad enough that I went off-profile including Michael on this little trip. With Richard Knowles showing obvious interest in me, I felt it necessary to have someone to cover my back.
My cheeks feel flush, as the events earlier today replay in my mind. Ok, so that wasn’t what I initially had in mind.
Fortunately, we’ll be returning to Monaco tomorrow. Jones should be returning as well, if he’s not there already. Maybe then, with Michael at a distance, I can re-focus on my end game. With him close, I tend to lose my objectivity.
~~~~~
I feel secure, wrapped in his warmth, his body hugging my curves. I hear his steady breathing as I lay awake, while he sleeps. Carefully, I slide from his arms. I pause as I hear his breathing shift. He reaches for me, finding my pillow instead. But his eyes remain shut.
I watch him anxiously for what seems like an eternity. I can’t help but admire the beauty of his muscled arms and shoulders that held me with fervor earlier in the night. Just remembering it has me craving his touch again. With my shivering, I realize the coolness of the room against my warm skin. Trying not to make much noise, I slip on my clothes. After looking back one more time, I resign myself to leave, satisfied that Michael has not awaken.
I creep past the closed door of the next bedroom, hearing only silence. Barefoot, I tiptoe up the steps. The sky is coolly lit, with the sun just starting to peak over the horizon. Sea gulls fly above, squawking loudly. I stop to look behind me. Seeing not another soul, I put my paranoia aside.
Moving to the pilothouse, I peer inside the windows, finding it empty as I had hoped. The crew had retired for the night. But I need to be quick, for they could be rising at any time. Grasping the door handle, I make my entry. I crouch down in order to stay out of sight. Lifting the CB receiver, I move to disassemble it. Turning each of the screws, I finally open the receiver. Placing the tiny screwdriver between my lips, I use my both my hands to carefully insert the listening device. This will provide audio surveillance of the pilothouse as well as any radio communication. Jones had not specifically instructed this, but I’m just trying to think ahead for possible scenarios. As long as it is undetected, it can’t hurt.
My heart flutters as I hear a noise. Uncertain whether I’m about to be detected, I hurriedly reassemble the receiver. Satisfied that the receiver shows no signs of tampering, I slip the screwdriver back into my pocket before exiting the pilothouse. I try to seem casual as I return on deck, peering out toward the coastline. At first, I hear nothing more, lulling me into a sense of security.
But then I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see a pair eyes staring intently at me.
~~~~~
“Good Morning. I’m surprised to see you awake so early. And alone.” Richard remarks. Dressed simply in an old shirt loose-fitting shorts and loafers, his hair is mussed and his face shows stubble. I sense he’s not been awake long. But I’m unsure if he’s aware of my morning activities.
“Well, I woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Since Michael was sleeping soundly, I figured there was no sense in waking him. So I thought I’d take in the sunrise. It does look like we’re going to have another splendid day.” I reply, hoping that my explanation sounds natural, but fearing it sounds as stupid as it felt saying it.
“Yes, there’s rarely a rainy day in this part of the world. That’s why I come here so often. “
“It is so beautiful here. One can easily escape the everyday problems of the real world.” I muse leaning my hands against the handrail as the wind blows my hair back
“And what part of the real world are you trying to escape? Your husband perhaps?” Richard moves in closer beside me, looking directly at me.
“I dunno. Perhaps the constraints of everyday life. The ever-present responsibilities.” I mutter as I feel Richard’s thigh rubbing against mine.
“Is that what Michael does? Helps you to forget those constraints? Reminds you of the deeper pleasures in life.” Richard pries, putting emphasis on the words ‘deeper pleasures.’
My cheeks flush as I think of Michael’s suspicion that we were being watched. I really need to check that mirror. The thought of this man taking pleasure in watching our intimacy has me feeling violated.
My body tenses as I feel Richard’s cool hand touching the small of my back. Sensing Richard’s gaze, I feel naked with only a thin shirt covering my erect nipples. I would have dressed more thoroughly had I known. Instead, his smile only increases my discomfort.
“Desiree is still sleeping, too. She’ll probably be nursing a good hangover this morning. I guess that just leaves the two of us.” His hand slides down to fondle my buttocks. I suppress the urge to teach him how to treat a lady, and instead I move from his touch.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I reply inferring to his intentions.
“I guess Michael could take it the wrong way. Get jealous. I understand. But what if he weren’t here?” Richard responds, not easily put off. His hand strokes my face mimicking Michael. Yet, the feeling is all wrong. His hands feel cold, almost clammy. Instead of leaning into his touch I feel repulsion. I’m still stuck on what Richard means by his ‘what if’.
“But he is here.”
“He doesn’t have to know. We could be discreet. Or maybe he’s like me. Enjoys watching. Though I must admit watching isn’t as satisfying as performing,” he replies eyeing me like a sumptuous dessert.
I shake my head mouthing the word ‘no’. Despite my movement away from him, he’s managed to corner me against the bench.
“Unfortunately, if I bring you back to my room Desiree will want me to share you with her. I’m not in a sharing mood this morning.” Richard paws my chest as I grasp his shoulders to push him away.
“We could go up to the pilothouse. Lock the doors.” Richard murmurs as he grasps my hand guiding it to the firm bulge in his shorts. “See what you do to me, “ he whispers huskily. Sensing that he has a problem understanding the word no, I change my tactics. I begin to stroke him, noting his shortcomings in comparison to Michael. Richard moans, as I release the button of his fly, touching his hot flesh.
“Please,” he whimpers begging me not to stop. Sensing the opportunity, I tighten my grasp, seeing the pain translate on his face.
“I said ‘no.’ And I mean no. Not now. Not ever. Understand!” I hiss as maintain my grasp for a moment longer to make my point.
As I release him, Richard crumbles, clinging to the bench in great pain. With disdain, I wipe my hand on my shorts and walk away. I’m aghast as to the boldness Richard has shown. I truly would have liked to ‘teach’ him a little more, but I realize Jones would not be pleased if I soured the deal.
Reaching the steps I’m surprised to find Michael waiting, almost smiling. No, he actually is smiling, seeming quite pleased.
“I was going to come assist you, but then I saw you had the situation in hand.”
~~~~~
Docking by late-morning, our departure from the Knowles was with little fan-fare. Richard, still hurting from his encounter with Nikita, kept a low profile for the remainder of the morning and was not present as we were leaving. Only a hung-over Desiree groggily bid us farewell. I believe all parties involved were relieved that this trip had ended.
Where Nikita looks anxious to return to the hotel, I have other plans. Instead, I steer us toward the beach. I sense Nikita’s curiosity is piqued by the route I have chosen, but says nothing. I decide to cut to the chase, since we are now away from surveillance and are anonymous amongst the beachgoers. Walking along the water I casually ask,
“Why did you sneak from our bed this morning?”
“What do you mean? I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk.” Nikita brushes my question aside.
Conscious of her careful movements this morning, I know her answer is a lie. I try a different approach.
“What happens when the Knowles profile plays itself out? Where do we go from there?”
“We? Michael…” Nikita shakes her head. With a sad seriousness, she stops and faces me. “We don’t go anywhere. I do appreciate the favor—accompanying me on Knowles’ yacht. But your participation ends there. After the profile plays out, I will return to Centre to provide my services and you…. You have to go on with your life. I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of that life.”
“I see. So this is where you tell me you don’t love me.” I reply searching her face for the truth.
“No.” Nikita answers, casting her eyes toward the sand. Looking up again with an awkward smile, she continues, “I tried that once, but you didn’t believe me.”
I nod softly but feel a knot forming in my throat. I sense what is coming.
“You told me once that you couldn’t allow me to become your weakness. I understand now that you can’t become mine either. If the circumstances were different….” Her voice trails off. Her eyes appear glassy just before she blinks away the tears.
“The circumstances could be different if you want them to be,” I challenge.
Swallowing hard she simply shakes her head as the anguish shows in her eyes. I grasp her hand as she tries to walk away from me. Holding her wrist, I gently rub the soft skin of the back of her hand with my thumb.
“Think about it.”
“Please.” I breathe, choking the word out as a whisper as I tighten my grasp. Regaining my voice, I add, “I’ll be at the brasserie tomorrow at noon, should you reconsider.”
Releasing her wrist, I walk away, filled with unwanted emotion. I’m unsure of Nikita’s reaction for I choose not to look back. Blindly, I trudge up the sandy beach away from her. I can only wait until tomorrow to know her answer.
~~~~~
I swallow hard as I watch him walk away. From his tone I know this is the final chance he’s giving me. My heart wants me to run after him and beg him to forgive me. But my feet remain planted firmly in the sand.
A small child begins to stare at me with her innocent blue eyes as she toddles past me to retrieve her ball. I realize that I must look out of place, standing there with tears streaming down my face. Feeling emotionally drained, I lift my bag with a sigh, as I start walking along the water again. I turn my head to see Michael’s blurry image appearing smaller and smaller as he moves from my sight. Brushing the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, I wander down the beach in the opposite direction.
What if I were to go to the brasserie tomorrow?
I long for it to be that simple. I long to walk away from my current situation with no consequences.
But there would be consequences. For both Michael and me. I made my bed and now I’ll have to lay in it. Alone.
It’s not myself I fear for. It’s Michael. I had hoped his inner strength would propel him forward. I want him to find the will to survive without me. Yet, I feel a strange satisfaction knowing he lacks that will. Knowing that he feels as bound to me as I feel bound to him.
My thoughts are interrupted as I hear the muffled sound of a cell phone ringing. Rooting through my bag, I retrieve the cell phone. Equipping it with the scrambler, I answer the call.
“Josephine?”
“Here.”
“What is Jones’ status?”
“I’m not sure.” I swallow.
“Why is that?” the voice asks with irritation.
“I haven’t returned to the hotel yet. I’m on my way now.”
“The longer this takes the greater the possibility of detection.”
“I know.” I breathe into the phone, feeling like the scolded child.
“Focus on the end game. We wouldn’t want Michael to become a distraction.”
“He’s not.” I reply too hastily. Realizing I just confirmed it, I bite my lip with self-contempt.
The line clicks dead. I snap the phone shut with resignation. I’m reminded that I sold my soul to the devil, while my heart bleeds for Michael.
Closing my eyes, I envision Michael sitting alone in the brasserie. Waiting for the woman who can’t be with him. Unhappy with that image, I reshape it. Instead, the door opens and I enter the brasserie meeting his smile as I join him.
~~~~
“Hallo, Love!”
I roll my eyes as the Englishman’s chipper voice reaches my ears. Part of me had hoped that Centre had kept him longer. No such luck.
“Did you miss me?” Jones asks as he comes into view. I close the door firmly behind me in response.
“Got your panties in a twist, eh? Well, whatever it is, I didn’t do it. Nope. I’m innocent. As innocent as the day I was born.”
I just stare at him. Blankly.
I find it impossible to believe this man could run a McDonald’s, let alone Centre, one of the most powerful covert anti-terrorist organizations. I’m as convinced as ever that he’s a fraud. But who is really in charge? And will this person reveal himself to me?
I let my bag drop to the floor, before walking past Jones without a word.
“Ouch! What has gotten you in such a foul mood? Or is it that woman thing? UPS or something?”
I muffle a laugh with that last line.
“Hey…got you to crack a smile there.” Jones gleefully prods.
“Yeah.”
Turning more serious, Jones begins, “Alas, I’m afraid our trip here will have to be cut short. More pressing matters remain at Centre. They require my undivided attention.”
“So you’ll be returning to Centre when?”
“Actually, we’ll be returning. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” I reply, taken aback by the suddenness.
“The plane is being fueled as we speak. It will be ready when we are.”
“I see.” I mumble as reality sets in. I very well can’t meet Michael and be at Centre at the same time. It seems Fate has chosen for me, as the cards had indicated. My heart sinks further.
“What’s got you so glum, Popsicle?”
“Nothing.” I abruptly answer.
“Ok-ay. I guess I will just go and pack the rest of my things. Why don’t you do the same?” Jones instructs carefully, sensing my prickly state.
My eyes feel misty as I begin to collect my things. As long as the decision was mine to make, I felt strong enough to walk away. But now that the decision is made for me, I don’t feel the same. I’m unprepared for this feeling of loss. The door behind me is closing. Will another open? Or will I be trapped in this room that grows darker with each passing moment?
~~~~~
I walk through the heart of the shopping district, but I have no interest in making any purchases. My body moves with the flow of the other pedestrians. But my mind intently contemplates my situation. I came to Monaco in pursuit of Nikita. In pursuit of answers. Instead I have only more questions. Despite reestablishing intimacy with Nikita, I feel pushed further away. Lies and secrets widening the schism between us.
Casting my emotions aside, I focus on my path. I view a mother and child before me, walking hand in hand. The woman guides her son to a wooden bench, urging him to sit. Kneeling down she begins to tie his shoe. My first thought is of Adam, since the boy appears to be the same age. I had been trying to teach Adam to tie his shoes just before I was forced to leave him. But his knots tended to be loose and would come undone before long. Adam would proclaim he was a ‘big boy’, insisting on tying them himself again. Eventually, I’d convince him to let me retie them so that he wouldn’t trip and fall
As the woman looks up toward me, I’m reminded of another person I loved deeply. Maybe it’s the soft smile. Or perhaps the color of her hair. It could even be the setting I find myself in.
Mama. She always gave me a sense of security. She’d kiss the pain away. She’d make it all better. Whether it was a bruised knee or hurt feelings. Sharing my nightmares or my daydreams. She was there for me. Giving me two parents’ worth of love and support, when Papa was incapable of expressing any feeling toward his son.
Helpless. It’s a feeling I vowed never to allow again. Despite the walls I construct, I keep letting people in. First Simone, then Adam, and finally Nikita. With each I was rendered helpless again, hurdling me back to that day. A day I could point back to that changed my life forever. The chilly November day that I lost my parents.
I begin to wall myself again. Too much loss over the years. Too much pain. I need to focus on something else.
Seeing an outdoor café, hunger filters into my consciousness. The waiter catches sight of my approach, and escorts me to a table. I am then left alone with the menu. I quickly make my selection, but have to wait for the older gentleman to return. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I find the envelope with pictures. I had not given them any thought since I acquired them from the Knowles’ bedroom.
With mild interest, I begin to scan through the photographs, flipping through them. People and places. Nothing of obvious significance. Until one photo catches my attention. I note a very familiar face. The photo shows Richard and Desiree at one of their homes. Seated with them is an elder gentleman. George.
The wheels begin to turn as I reconsider recent events. Operations cancelled George after discovering that the Head of Oversight was leaking intel to Red Cell. So perhaps the interest in the Knowles is more than strictly as an arms dealer. Could Knowles be connected to the now splintered Red Cell? Then, there was Nikita’s connection to Red Cell as part of her ‘escape’ from Section. How does that fit in? Did she have a role in identifying George as the leak? Or was he simply the patsy? And she the true leak?
It unsettles me. I don’t believe in coincidences. There are simply too many related incidents that don’t quite fit together at first glance. There must be a clear connection that I’m not seeing. Or maybe one I don’t want to see.
“Are you ready to order sir?”
The waiter’s interruption leads me back to my present surroundings. I voice my selections, handing him the menu. As he leaves my table, I begin to consider my next step. Simply waiting for tomorrow to arrive is too passive for my inclination. Unfortunately, I cannot rely on Nikita alone in order to get answers.
But is it really answers that I want or just the key to Nikita’s heart?
~~~~~
With Jones occupied in the bathroom just prior to our departure, I put my plan into motion.
“The Concierge is not answering their phone. I’m going to run downstairs to see if I can find a bellhop.” I yell through the door. Without waiting for an answer I scurry out the door heading toward the stairwell, hoping to use every precious second.
Once downstairs near the lobby, I slip into the unoccupied alcove of pay phones. Rather than use one of the hotel phones, I retrieve my cell phone once again. Before dialing I silently pray that all this will be over soon. I’m not sure how much more I’m willing to sacrifice myself. But at the same time I do not want my sacrifices to be for naught. Walking that thin line, I feel empty, lacking the passion I once had.
Resigned to my fate, I listen as the line rings twice. With a click, the call connects and I speak knowing who listens on the other end.
“We’re leaving Monaco and returning to Centre tonight by private jet.”
“Good. That means activities on our part have been successful to get you inside. The rest is up to you.”
“I know.”
“Failure is not an option. I don’t need to remind you of that, do I?”
“No.” I breathe.
“We have all made sacrifices for this. Despite the pain these sacrifices may have brought, we can’t lose sight of the good that will come of it. And good will come of it, Nikita. Remember that.”
“Is there anything more I need to know? Jones will get suspicious if I’m gone too long.” I reply a bit abruptly, feeling bitterness over my own sacrifices. The lies. The deceptions. The pain I’ve caused Michael. No positive outcome can change that.
“You have everything you need. I don’t expect to hear from you until it’s done.”
The finality of her tone rings in my ears as the line goes silent. With my throat dry I swallow hard. Closing the cell phone, I slowly begin to move toward the front desk.
I swallow again before addressing the clerk.
“Yes, I was wondering if I can leave a message for someone?” The question passes my lips as almost a whisper. “Not a hotel patron, but a friend who may come looking for me. Unfortunately, I’m checking out earlier than planned.” I explain.
The young man passes me a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen. I pause for a minute then begin to scribble the words ‘I’m sorry.’ Staring at the paper a moment longer, I toy with the pen, trying to find the words. Nothing seems adequate or appropriate. Gripped by frustration I crumple the paper in my hand and walk away. I can’t even be certain Michael will come here looking for me anyway, I try to justify to myself. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.
Amidst my mixed feelings, I remember to stop at the Concierge, just as I begin to walk past. I indicate that my husband and I are checking out and need assistance. With a bellhop and his cart in tow, I return to Jones, prepared for the next step.
~~~~~
Alone, I look around my empty hotel room. The bed is neatly made. Fresh water glasses sit by the sink. The room is elegantly decorated, but it’s still just a hotel room. Not that my loft was much of a home. In contrast, the suburban house I shared with Elena had felt like a home. She had carefully chosen the décor, making it personal and homey. And Adam filled it with a child’s joy and curiosity. But I couldn’t really make it my home in my heart, knowing that the illusion would have to come to an end one day. And now I just have this hotel room until I move to the next one.
Setting my bag down, I decide to check on another hotel room. Nikita’s. I wonder if Jones has returned or if she’s sleeping alone in the room tonight. I wish to seek a glimpse of her state of mind. I want to know where to place my expectations so I don’t find myself blindsided tomorrow. Or so I tell myself.
Turning the audio on, I hear silence. It’s early for her to be sleeping. Perhaps she left to get some dinner. I rewind the tape some. Pushing play, I hear the shuffling of bags. Packing? I stop the tape and rewind it further. Picking up the phone I call the front desk at the Hôtel de Paris.
“Yes, I’m calling for the Lovegrove’s in room 422.”
“Could you spell that?”
After complying the woman answers, “I’m sorry but the Lovegrove’s have checked out.”
“Did they leave a forwarding address or phone number?”
“No. I’m afraid that there’s nothing listed here.”
“Thank you.” I put down the receiver. I find their sudden departure curious. Was Nikita desperate to free herself of me? Or had she been called back to Centre?
Listening to more of the tape, I soon learn that Jones and Nikita had indeed left for Centre earlier in the evening. The only clue as to its location is the mention of using a private jet to travel there. It’s not much to go on, but it’s a start.
I have no evidence to suspect anything other than Nikita doing her duty for Centre. But my gut finds the sudden departure of Nikita and Jones suspect and warrants looking into further. I may not trust Nikita, but I certainly trust Jones even less.
I’m also conscious that I have difficulty accepting the role of Michael Samuelle, private citizen. I must admit I prefer this quest with its very small glimmer of hope to a quiet life alone.
~~~~
As the plane’s wheels touch the ground, I gasp with relief and anticipation. The flight time left me hostage to my thoughts and doubts. Especially since Jones occupied himself with Centre affairs via his laptop, leaving me undisturbed. But now I’m faced with the uncertainty that comes with my arrival at Centre causing me to push Michael from my mind for the moment.
With the plane coming to a halt, I grasp my handbag, prepared for de-boarding. Arriving after a flight of less than 2 hours, I assume that Centre is located somewhere in Europe, as I expected. I look up to see Jones at ease, smiling in my direction.
“Smooth as whistle. Just as I like it.”
“Yes. It was a good flight,” I mutter, replying to his small talk.
Leisurely, he unbuckles his seatbelt, and rises, stretching like a lazy cat. Placing his hand out before him, he bids me to lead. “Ladies first, my dear.”
“Thank you.” I reply graciously.
A floodlight shines down on the stairs, illuminating them. Taking each step carefully, I make my way to the bottom. With nightfall, the temperatures here are cooler then those we left in Monaco. I rub my bare arms feeling the chill in the air and casting a glance to my right I note that we’ve landed at a private landing strip. A Mercedes with a driver sits idling, waiting to take us to Centre.
The driver steps from the car carrying two light coats. He hands the woman’s jacket to Jones, while retaining the other. Jones grasps the coat by the shoulders, offering to help me put it on. I slide my arms into the jacket, grateful to have its warmth. But I’m caught off guard as Jones keeps a hold of my shoulders. Before I can shrug off his hold, I feel the prick of the needle entering my neck. The reality of my situation seeps in as the drug enters my body. I struggle at first, but the drug takes effect quickly. I feel my legs give out beneath me as everything turns to a haze.
~~~~
My eyelids flutter as sunlight begins to shine on my face. The sofa I’m resting on is fine black leather, or so I sense from the smell and feel of it. Squinting, I try to recall how I got here. Then, it all starts flooding back into my consciousness. I’m intrigued because I’m not restrained in any way. Sitting up, I clench my jaw in apprehension as I become alert to my surroundings. Soft music is playing in the background. Piano. Chopin?
Slowly, I rise from the sofa. Light-headed, I take a few steps before gripping the back of a chair. Shaking the dizziness, I look around the finely furnished room. The far wall holds two large wood bookcases filled with leather bound volumes. An oriental rug lies under my feet, covering the hardwood flooring of what appears to be a sitting room.
The piano music continues to flow in from the doorway. Curious, I begin to look for its source. Pressed against the wall, I slide toward the next doorway as I hear the music increase in volume. From my angle, I begin to see a baby grand piano. As I stretch to catch a glimpse of the musician, I feel the pulling of my skin. My attention shifts to the soreness to my lower back just above my hipbone. Pushing my clothing from the area, I find several neatly sewn stitches.
“Oh God.” I mutter under my breath, as I experience a sinking feeling.
“Nikita? Is that you out there?”
It’s Jones. It becomes clear that he’s the mystery pianist. Feeling like the mouse caught between the cat’s paws, I swallow hard and show myself.
“Ah! So you are up and about. Good Morning, Popsicle.” Jones says turning toward me while still seated on the small bench.
“No thanks to you. What the hell is this all about?” I demand, as I decide to take the naïve approach. “Why did you drug me?” My eyes glare at him as I take an angry tone.
“Oh, that’s right. You did say before that you aren’t a morning person. How could I have forgotten?” Jones mocks me.
I intently hold my stare. If I’m caught, I’d prefer that he’d cut to the chase.
“I’m sorry love, but it had to be done. I’m sure you’ve noticed the incision that was made. So you might as well drop the act.” Jones says looking more serious.
“Act?”
“I find it intriguing that an operative who removed her clock to escape Section in order to set up Red Cell, Section, and her lover, in just a few short weeks carries another clock. Since Centre is not responsible for it, I have to wonder who is.”
I cock my head slightly giving him an inquisitive look.
“I know nothing about it.” I say firmly.
“Lying doesn’t become you my dear.”
My eyes widen as he reaches into his inner pocket. But instead of a gun, he withdraws a cell phone.
“I believe this is yours.”
Standing up, he walks toward me and places the phone in my hand. I’m unsure what he expects as he circles around me with his hand on his chin, like a vulture around a carcass.
“Betrayal is such an ugly thing. It seems that you’ve been doing what Americans would refer to as playing the two ends against the middle. What a pity. Here it was I thought you were interested in saving lives. Striving to make the world a better place. Instead it would appear you’re out to save your own neck.”
I watch him with a confident air, though I feel more like the child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“It’ll be much easier if you cooperate and dial the number. If I have to do it…well, that isn’t advisable.”
“Just who is it that I’m calling?” I ask flippantly as he continues to move around me.
Before I know it, the back of his hands cracks across my face. I press my hand to my lip. Feeling warm moisture oozing from it, I stand silently watching Jones carefully for his next move.
“That was the wrong answer. I wouldn’t want to be forced to do anything more drastic for your cooperation. Tell me what loyalty could you have for a woman who would have you stripped of your emotions and conditioned to be a cold-blooded killer with no remorse?”
