1 Manic Monday (10 page)

“Oh.  I see. 
A trap.”

“No.  I didn’t know who would show up.  I hired
these two to protect me.”

Jake raised his eyebrows.

“I’m impressed.  So, why did you go along with me?”

She shrugged.

“To buy time.
  To see what
your intentions were.”

“Darius won’t stop here, Giselle.”  His hands were
still above his head.  He wanted to bolt ahead and take them out.  In
his head, he was forming his cover. 
Blown assignment.
 
Security personnel, communications scrambled, and bad decisions.  Darius
would be furious.  He wouldn’t lose his job, but his reputation would
suffer.  He had never failed an assignment.  This one would never
show in the books, but people would talk.  Surviving never entered his
mind.  He knew what he had to do.

“Actually, you are in more hot water than I am.  You
should never have accepted this assignment.  I tried to warn you when I
met you in New York, Mr. Monday.”

Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Hills took their places in the hall in
front of him, barring his escape.  He ignored their menacing stares.

He looked at her with sad eyes.

“I thought we were on a first name basis.”

She smiled and shrugged.

“That was personal.  This is business.”

Jake nodded.

Then he vaulted forward in a quick roll.  He came up in
front of Mr. Beverly Hills.  To his credit, he had followed Jake’s
movement and fired just over his shoulder as he ducked.  Jake knew the
next shot would be high.  He smashed his foot into the man’s right knee,
feeling his leg give.  He watched as the man collapsed.  Jake grabbed
his TP-9 and twisted it from his grip and quickly cracked his skull as he fell
limp the floor.

Jake heard the report of Giselle’s pistol behind him. 
He trusted that she was firing to warn, not to kill.  He pivoted away as
Mrs. Beverly Hills shouted something.  As he turned he brought his open
palm around in a wide arc, smacking her in the left hear.  At the same
time, he stepped close into her, his leg between hers and he brought his foot
down hard on the stiletto of her right foot.  It broke with a snap. 
Jake felt a bullet rip through the fabric of his jacket.  It missed his
side by maybe an inch, he saw as he looked down.  Mrs. Beverly Hills
collapsed with a grunt.  Jake imagined that she had twisted her ankle
pretty hard and that her ears were ringing quite badly.  He pushed her
shoulder on the right side and watched as she dove backwards and smashed into
the wall behind her.

She dropped her pistol and Jake kicked it, and rounded on
Giselle.  She stood behind
him,
her legs spread
wide, the men’s trench coat open, revealing her lithe figure in the tight scuba
outfit.  She was smiling smugly.

“I had heard you were good.  I am impressed.  How
much would it be to secure your services, Monday?”

“I am not for sale, Giselle.  Drop your weapon.”

She shrugged and stuffed the pistol into a pocket of the
coat.  She held her empty hands in front of her.

“We can go now.  I will go with you.  I am
interested to hear your side of this now.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It doesn’t seem I have a choice.  Evidently, you are
the only one capable of protecting me.”

Jake looked at her sadly and then glanced at his watch.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Giselle.”

“There is only one way to find out,” she said, a sly smile
lighting up her face.

Jake motioned with his head at the two mercenaries sprawled
on the floor.

“How about these two?
  You
could have called the dogs off.”

“You will need an alibi, am I not right?”

I can see now why Sinegem hired her,
he
thought.  He said, “Then let’s
move
.  That
suit isn’t going to fool them for long.”

Minutes later, Jake was peeling out of the parking garage
and heading south on the Highway 2.  A boat was waiting for them docked in
Santa Monica, courtesy of Gary’s rich friend,
Seyla
Harrington.  They stopped long enough to check if
Anthropologie
or Fred
Seagal
was open on the holiday.  To
Giselle’s disappointment, both were shuttered, despite signs declaring a
sale.  Jake assured her that Gary’s friend would have an acceptable
wardrobe at the yacht.  Giselle was melancholy for the rest of the trip,
but he suspected it had more to do with her brush with death than
Seyla’s
taste in shoes and sensible sailing clothes. 

The captain, crew, cabin, and wine suited Jake just
fine.  He was glad to be off shore and safe.  He knew that could be a
short-lived condition, so he began making calls.  He started with Gary.

Wear My Sunglasses at Night

The Embraer Legacy 650 business jet landed at the private
air strip and taxied to a stop.  Giselle sat across from him in a soft
leather recliner, sipping champagne.  She had complained that she had
missed celebrating the New Year.  Two days had passed since their harried
escape from the Vector Energy headquarters in Los Angeles.  Jake had
enjoyed the rest, the food, the fresh, warm salt air, and the view. 

He glanced again at Giselle’s alabaster skin, her slim legs
crossed primly.  He was glad he was about to hand her over to her
employer’s security team. The longer he spent with her, the more difficult he
found defending against her advances.  His body demanded yes, and his mind
devoutly said no.  He had no idea where that second voice got its
self-righteous fury.  Jake simply obeyed it the same way he would ignore
the sharp, blinding pain that came with the thought of VANITY. 

“I dare say I thought I was rid of this blasted cold,”
Giselle complained.

“I thought you were born in a frozen climate,” he
jabbed.  She smirked and ignored him.

She glanced out the window as they taxied through the ice
and snow.  It covered the surrounding hills and Jake could hear the slush
and ice crunching under the Legacy 650’s landing gear.  It was almost
enough to depress him.  He had to agree with Giselle.  He would
rather still be out on the Pacific.

“I wasn’t sure they would take me back,” she said, her voice
quiet.  She chewed on her lip and continued to stare out the passenger
window.

“I am sure Sinegem believes the threat is behind them
now.  The board has voted to remove their sanctions, and re-assign
you.  Darius has agreed to call off the dogs.  You get your life
back.”

She turned to look at him, sadness weighing down her
porcelain features.

“What about you?”

He shrugged.

“I guess I tweaked the nose of my boss, gave Violet more
reason to hate me, and owe Gary a country club membership. What kind of
assassin would I be if I didn’t manage to create a little chaos while rescuing
someone for a change?”

Giselle sniffed.

“I think you are too confident.  I am not retracting my
offer, Mr. Monday.”

“I thought we were on first name basis again since I saved
your bacon.”

Her smile was sad.  Her voice sounded weary.

“As before, this is business, not pleasure.  We need
you more than Galbraith.  Don’t make us force them to use you.”

“What do you mean?”

She sipped her champagne.  The jet stopped abruptly and
the attendant came forward and stood at the front of the cabin, smiling
professionally.

“I have perhaps said too much.  We must join our
companions.  We will speak more, I am sure.” She placed the champagne on
the table beside her and allowed Jake to take her hand and escort her forward.

“I am glad you are safe,” he said.  She leaned forward
and kissed his cheek.

Jake could smell her skin.  It was intoxicating.

“I will never be able to thank you for all you have
done.  I enjoyed our little adventure.”

“Me too,” he said.  A dumb, thunder-struck smile edged
its way across his face.  She took both his hands in hers and gave them a
little shake.

“Until later, Mr. Monday.”

“Yes.  We must have another adventure someday,” he
promised.

She turned and made her way toward the exit.  Mixed
emotions stirred in him again. Despite his compunction to follow her home and
to hear more of this offer to work for Sinegem, Jake turned his mind to the
business at hand.

Jake was curious about what she was hinting, but he had some
small trepidation regarding his position at Galbraith.  He did not figure
that there would be a good exit strategy.  This was not the first time it
had occurred to him that he might not be able to leave Galbraith alive. 

He wondered who would meet him on the icy tarmac
outside.  Lars had mentioned that he had passed some sort of “test.” 
Jake was sick of feeling like he was a puppet.  He had jumped through
every hoop Lars and Galbraith had put before him.  He did not understand
why he constantly had to prove himself.  Evidently, they were more worried
about his loyalty than his skills.  This made Jake uneasy.  At least
he had passed.  That was always a good feeling. 
Right?

As he ducked his head and moved toward the politely smiling
attendant, he tried to catch a glimpse outside the windows.  All he could
see was a long field featuring a huge rock and a brick mansion with tall cedars
standing a lonely, snow-covered guard against a north wind coming off Lake
Cayuga.  They were in upstate New York at the vacation home of one of the
Sinegem America executives. 
Probably another one of
Gary’s “friends.”
  It never ceased to amaze Jake the sheer volume
and quality of Gary’s contacts. The small runway was newly paved and well
maintained, but the snow was still falling in huge flakes like ashes from some
great fire.

The cold wind whipped into the jet and the glare from the
whiteness of the snow almost blinded him.  He wished he had packed some
winter gloves.  He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his meager jacket
as the attendant wrapped Giselle in a long, fur-lined parka.  He barely
heard her stammer her gratitude over the sound of the engines and the howl of
the wind.

“Thank you for flying with us,” the attendant said with more
charm and enthusiasm than was necessary.  Giselle smiled at her and
carefully stepped down.  Jake thought he should help her, but before he
could get to the door, she was almost at the bottom.

Two men in trench coats, dark gloves, and mirrored
sunglasses moved to flank her.  One man took her by the elbow and the
other by the hand, talking to her with a slight smile on his face. 
Giselle nodded.  She turned and waved at Jake.  He stood stupidly at
the exit of the Legacy 650 with his satchel under his arm and his hands deep in
the pockets of his jacket.

The man beside her looked up at him then.  Jake thought
for one second that he recognized him.  But the blinding whiteness of the
snow and the cold air blowing on the surface of his eyes made him blink and
squint. 

Jake looked out farther from them to the dark Cadillac
Escalade, another guard holding open the back passenger door and rubbing his
hands together.  A cloud plumed into the air from the exhaust.  Jake
could not make out anything in the vehicle due to the tinting, but he saw a
pant leg through the open door. 
Four guards?
 
Maybe Sinegem was serious about protecting their asset better this time.

Another vehicle pulled into the driveway of the house. 
It was a dark green Yukon Denali with Virginia plates. Lars and Violet got out
as soon as the vehicle came to a stop about twenty yards from the jet. 
Jake was surprised to see them there. 
And where is Gary?
he
wondered.

Violet stood at the bottom of the steps, her arms crossed
and a satisfied smile on her face.  Her cheeks were beet red from the
cold.  Lars was shaking the hand of the man who had held Giselle’s
hand.  He nodded, smiling and they parted. 

What is happening here?
  Jake fought the urge to
panic. 

The attendant was standing patiently behind him the whole
time.

“Watch your step, sir.  The snow is accumulating
quickly,” she said loudly to be heard above the roar of the engine.

He nodded and descended to his fate.

Violet stood back from him.  Lars came up and extended
a hand.  His lips were a firm line across his face.  His eyes gave
nothing away. 

Jake shook his hand, the leather gloves warm to the
touch.  Lars had driven, he realized.

“Welcome back, Jake.  Good job.”

“Thanks.  I think.”  He cocked his head and looked
again at Violet who shook her head and seemed to be chuckling.

“Come on.  We have a long trip back to New York and a
lot to talk about,” Violet said, turning and trudging through the north wind
back to the warm sanctum of the SUV.

“It would seem so,” Jake said.  “Like, where is
Gary?” 

Jake followed, adjusting the satchel in case he needed to
get his gear.

“Gary is waiting in New York.  We will fill you in as
we travel,” Violet said over her back into the wind.

Jake took in Lars with a curious stare.  He walked
abreast of Jake, his breath pluming in the wind and trailing behind his ear
like a freight train.

“Don’t worry, Jake.  You are not in trouble,” Lars
said.  His voice was gruff, like sandpaper on an antique. 

“Thanks for not saying ‘just trust us,’” Jake quipped.

“I don’t expect you would anyway,” Lars said without
humor.  He stared ahead, only glancing toward the Cadillac as Giselle was
escorted in.

“You know them?” Jake asked.

Lars shrugged.  He grabbed the door handle and opened
the door, looking at Jake.  He took a deep breath.  His eyes were
watery but hard.  They were grey, Jake realized. 

“My son Calvin works for them,” he said.