The Achilles Heel (32 page)

“Ha! I don’t think he would consider anything to be better than cocaine. Besides,
that would just mean he’d want me to make him coffee every morning, which would also
mean I’d have to see his face every day, so no thank you! But, maybe one day I’ll
give up the glamorous life of insurance and start my own coffee house; a girl can
dream,” she said smiling up to the ceiling, casting a farfetched wish.

“You never know,” I insinuated, unable to conceal my smile.

We sat and chatted, drinking coffee. Gail let me go on and on about my insane life
and insatiable lust for Kessler. I hated to cut our visit short, but I saw the time
and needed to get going. I had two more stops to make.

She walked me out to my car and sighed. “Damn girl, you did good. I’m really going
to miss talking with you.”

“I’m just a phone call or plane ride away. Why would we stop talking?” I asked, somewhat
confused.

“Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. Sometimes friendships just have a way of dying
out,” she answered.

“We have an open door policy, and you’re welcome anytime; plenty of cowboys are just
waiting for your arrival in Nashville! Oh, I almost forgot!” I said, pulling a pack
of Camels from my purse. “These are for you; a gift from the Islands.”

“Um, thanks. But, Annie, I don’t smoke,” she said, looking confused about how I could
have missed that.

“Go inside and open them; you just might start!” I yelled through my open car window
as I waved good-bye and pulled out of the driveway.

Leslie’s house was my next stop. Her girls were at school, and this was her day to
work late so Carl would be the only one there, working out of his home office. He
was actually the one I wanted to see.

Carl peered through the window in the door and surprised me with a giant bear hug
greeting.

“Annie! What are you doing here? I thought you were in St. Croix,” he said, clearly
out of the loop.

“I’m only back for the day, and I wanted to come by,” I said as we walked into the
kitchen.

“Well, Leslie is working late. Can you hang around until she gets back?” he asked.

“No, I really need to get going, but I wanted to give you something.” I pulled out
a piece of sticky paper that read: Nicole Miller/ size 2/ $500 minimum, and oh, yeah,
a box of Camels from my purse.

“What’s this?” he asked, as I stuck the paper to the refrigerator door.

“This is the website you’re going to visit after you open this pack of cigarettes.
Call the jeweler on the business card, and he will tell you what to do. He’s expecting
your call. I’ll be checking your work, Carl, so don’t disappoint me!” I said as I
gave him a hug and yelled, “Tell her to call me!” as I walked out the door.

I had already sent a generous donation to the Kansas City Renovation Company hoping
it would be enough to save some of my favorite downtown buildings with the authentic,
painted, historical signs. I passed by a number of them on my way to the cemetery,
and tried to decide which one I liked the best, but I couldn’t; I loved them all.

This is it, the last stop. I’ll say what I came to say and then never look back.

The wind blew the last of the snow around my feet, revealing a sheet of slippery ice
underneath. I had a feeling I wouldn’t make it out of here without falling on my ass
first. I soon found the massive oak tree spitting skeletal roots above the ground,
and sitting under it, the cold grey headstone of Jack Whitman, which was taking a
beating from the sharp and leafless branches stretched out almost to the ground. The
air was frigid and seemed to blow right through me as the branches from the tree scratched
across Jack’s name.

“Well, I found them, in case you were wondering. I don’t want them, but I found them.
I hope this is what you wanted; I hope this is the end result you pictured in your
mind. Can you even imagine how this feels? The last time I stood here I buried you,
and my world was crumbling right before my eyes. But not today, Jack. I’ve learned
enough over the last eight months to know that instead of freaking out, I’m going
to thank you.

“Thank you for giving me a chance to experience the adventure and excitement I never
knew existed. Thank you for being the driving force which completely broke me into
a thousand pieces, but also gave me courage, allowing my fortitude to eventually break
through. Thank you for these journeys that led me to Kessler, because through him,
I’ve learned the heart’s uncanny ability to mend. And most of all, thank you for giving
me the means to truly change people’s lives. I have to admit, that part’s been pretty
fun,” I said with a smile as the snow started falling, sticking to my eyelashes.

“I guess that’s about it. Thanks for the memories, Jack; I’m choosing to pretend they
were real,” I said. As I turned to head back to the car, he stepped out from behind
the thick trunk of the oak tree holding a familiar miniature American flag.

“Hello, Andrea,” Jack said.

ANNIE

“O
h, God!” I screamed, losing my footing on some ice and stumbling backwards, crashing
into his headstone.

Jack’s dead. Jack’s dead. Jack’s dead.

“It’s okay, Andrea; I know this is a lot to take in right now,” he said as he knelt
next to the tree, coming down to my level.

“What’s happening? You died! You’re dead!” I tried to yell, but my chest was so tight,
words and breathing were difficult.

The snow was really coming down now and it covered the ground with a new layer of
white. The cemetery was skin and bones, but the blanket of snow gave it an unexpected
freshness, like a clean slate.

“I knew this would be hard on you, and I’m so sorry it had to be this way, but I didn’t
know how else to reveal myself,” he said with an uncomfortable chuckle.

His breath came in constant trails of smoke, and the snow had already covered the
shoulders of his pea coat and the brim of his fedora, making him look like an actual
living ghost.

“Your speech, it was wonderful. Well, everything except Kessler Carlisle. That part
hurt, but it’s okay, I deserve some hurt from you,” he admitted. “I can explain as
much or as little as you like, Andrea; I want you to know the truth. Can I help you
up?” he asked as he stood and took a few steps towards me, ripping off his gloves
and extending his bare hand.

I tried to keep from blinking. I was afraid that the next blink or the next would
somehow bring this hallucination to an end, but the snow fall was making that impossible
and yet, he wasn’t going away. He was real.

I took his hand and lifted myself up, never taking my eyes off him.

“Ann,” he said as he smiled. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you so much!”

“I can’t believe you’re here! I can’t believe you’re real!” I whispered, as I took
off my gloves and our skin touched for the first time in over eight months.

I saw the longing in his eyes and predicted his advancing embrace as he slid his hands
around my waist, picking me up in his arms and kissing me hard. I didn’t succumb to
his touch at first, but when I finally allowed myself to feel his face against mine,
the momentum was unstoppable. The familiar softness of his beard and the smell of
his Cartier cologne penetrated my memory, reminding me of the sensation of coming
home from a long trip; my will-power was futile.

“How are you here? How did this happen?” I asked, breaking away from our embrace.

“There’s so much to tell you, Andrea. Can we go somewhere to talk? My car is just
over the hill,” he said, pointing towards the parking lot.

“I don’t think so; I’m fine here. Say what you have to say right here,” I told him,
because there was no way in hell I was getting trapped in a car with a supposedly
dead man; husband or not.

His eyes turned sad as the realization of our reunion was not what he had pictured
in his mind. “You’re scared of me,” he said, slumping his shoulders and shaking his
head.

“Who are you?” I asked under my breath.

“I know I owe you a full explanation, but please try to remember, I love you and nothing
I say here today will ever change my love for you,” he professed.

“Okay,” was all I said.

“My given name is Jack Stallings, but when I was hired twenty years ago by Homeland
Security, Jack Whitman was created and Jack Stallings was erased,” he revealed, bracing
for impact.

“What do you do for the government?” I asked, still shivering from the turn of events,
not the cold.

“In a nut shell, I find bad guys and annex their money in an attempt to take down
a terrorist platform. The lack of funds either forces their group to scramble, taking
years to rebuild, or it dissipates all together. You could say I’m kind of a broker,”
he added.

“How does that make you a broker?” I asked.

“Well, who do you think gets most of the money I confiscate?” he answered rhetorically.

“So the money you left me is stolen?”

“Depending on how you look at it, but I’ll say no, it’s not stolen; it came from my
employer, like any paycheck would.”

“Did you leave all those lockboxes hoping I would find them or was that a coincidence?”
I asked.

“Yes, I left them for you, but I underestimated how fast you’d find them. I’ve got
to tell you how impressed I am that you put it all together so quickly! I always knew
you were smart,” he praised me, leaning in to kiss me again.

When his cheeks got close enough and he expected to feel my lips upon his, he instead
felt my hand across his face, accompanied by a loud
smack
. He pulled back in shock; I wanted to hurt him even more, matching the pain he had
caused me, so I swung again, this time my fist connected with his nose. He didn’t
even flinch. I’m assuming he knew it was coming, and he just let me do it.

“How could you do this to me?” I yelled, as I pushed him back with all my strength.
“You lied about so many things; our whole marriage was a fucking sham! Do you know
how that makes me feel?” I shrieked, pulling a cigarette out of my purse.

“I do, I’m sorry, but I was hoping you would understand on a patriotic level. I was
serving my country, Andrea, eliminating the scum of the earth whose only mission in
life is to kill Americans. I saved lives, and I’m not a monster! Please try to understand!”
he begged.

I saw the disappointment on his face as I lit up my smoke.

“You’re smoking again? I thought you quit.”

“Oh, fuck off!” I screamed, as I blew a huge cloud of toxins in his face. “You weren’t
around to ride my ass about smoking. Oh yeah, that’s right, you were dead, so I don’t
really think it’s your business to comment on my health,” I hissed, ready to claw
his eyes out for even mentioning smoking. “What about the diamonds? Who did you steal
those from?” I demanded, still smoking and still intentionally trying to blow the
smoke right up his nose. Immature, yes, but I didn’t really have a lot of leverage
going for me, so I resulted to high school tactics.

“The picture you found in the Pelican Case, do you still have that?”

“Of course,” I said.

“That picture was taken before September 11
^th
, before we met and about two days before I took the diamonds. I was on a job with
my crew to take down some very bad people who were close to executing a massacre in
America. My mentor, John Savage‌—‌who was then on his way to becoming the head of
the CIA and now the newly elected Vice President of the United States‌—‌put this mission
together. Are you following so far?” he asked.

I nodded my head yes.

“I followed him loyally into every mission, never questioning his motives or morality
and never missing my target. I’m the best in the business‌—‌that’s how I got the code
name Achilles‌—‌but the day I stole those diamonds, was the day I completely lost
my faith in the human race.”

I know exactly how you feel about losing faith in people. You of all people will not
get my sympathy!
I thought, but just nodded my head again.

“Our mission was to bomb the headquarters of a terrorist group, destroying most of
their weapons and all of their Intel, but the catch was that it was located in an
elementary school. That’s how crazy these fuckers are; everyone is disposable for
the cause, even the ones who aren’t old enough to understand the cause. We were told
to stand down. We had received false information, and this school was the headquarters
of a lesser cell. My team was thorough though; that’s why we’re the best. We broke
into the school and trashed their offices, taking anything which would be of value
to the United States with us, including a large bag of diamonds.”

I braced myself for the conclusion of this story, knowing it might not turn out well.

“Some people think because you are a solider or associated with the military that
you’re this bomb crazy, war happy person, but in most cases, it just isn’t so. I remember
the relief that came over me when we were told to stand down. This mission didn’t
feel right. It was rushed and uncoordinated compared to others, but I ignored my gut,
thinking at the time I didn’t have a choice. I know now I’ve always had a choice,
and this time, my conscience happened to be saved from orders above me, or so I thought.”

My legs started to wobble and my knees began to shake from the mixture of adrenaline
pumping through me and the wind blowing around me. The only place to sit down besides
the ground was Jack’s headstone, so despite my discomfort I kept standing, shifting
my weight back and forth between my feet.

“Savage knew the diamonds were there,” he started again, and I could tell he was sharing
this story‌—‌verbally confirming the guilt and innocence of the parties involved‌—‌just
as much for himself as he was for me. “He sent the others to clear the last room in
the school and once we were alone, he handed me the diamonds, making them forever
our secret. And I’ve kept it, all these years.”

“Jesus, Jack! You’re a thief, and you’re a liar. How do you live with yourself?” I
asked as I began walking to my car with him trailing behind me, begging me to understand.