The Trade (24 page)

When Jay rode the A train it was harder to
watch him. So they’d manufactured a street person who took up
residence in the station. Jay had even given the street person a
hot dog on one of his philanthropic feeding adventures. An agent
would ride the train with Jay then radio the other members of the
team when Jay got off at a station. There was no need to indicate
direction. It was always back to work. They figured they had their
man completely cased.

So it was that today the two tail agents were
far enough behind Jay that they didn't see him duck into the uptown
1/9 subway alcove as he passed out of view around a corner. Jay
raced down the stairs, dropped his token in the turnstile and leapt
on the just-arrived train.

"A clean getaway,” Jay said to himself. He'd
picked up the trail team about twice a week since he'd started in
CTSG. They didn't bother him. He was rather flattered that the firm
felt him valuable enough to shadow. It had to be the firm because
Tonia was nearly completely out of the picture. Still, today Jay
needed some privacy.

"They're going to shit in about ten minutes,”
Jay thought.

He rode up to 34th street, Penn Station. He
jumped off the train in the middle of the lunch hour crowd. Jay
worked quickly down off the platform and into the station. He
ducked in and out of the little stores that fill the waiting areas
and long hallways of the underground labyrinth that connects the
subways to the Amtrak to the Long Island Rail Road. When he was
sure he was not being followed Jay dashed to an open payphone and
dropped a quarter.

Jay dialed the long distance number Rick had
made him memorize in Tennessee. The operator's voice prompted him
for another dollar and a half. Finally he heard the ringing phone,
an answering click and a dull beep. There was no cute welcoming
message. Rick only expected Jay to call on this line.

"No Cacti here. Spahn and Sehn and wait 30
year. Word 23,” was his cryptic message. Jay hung up.

"I hope that wasn't too obtuse,” Jay said to
himself but he knew Rick would get the hidden meaning that any
longtime Cincinnati baseball nut could decipher. Jay backtracked to
the subways and headed for the 8th avenue line. He picked up the A
train and rode it uptown another couple of stops. He started the
long jog back to work feeling like a character in a Le Carre
novel.

"What do you mean you lost him again?"

"What's the big deal? We know he's going
jogging and when he'll be back. He's so predictable it's
pathetic.”

"Yeah right,” the one man said. "I'd hate to
be you guys if Stan knew how often he was losing you. Imagine if
Calloway knew you were on him. You'd lose him and never pick him up
again.”

"Sure.”

"Well it won't matter in another couple weeks
anyway.”

"Right,” the younger man said. But his face
was reddening and stinging. "We'll see how long it takes before he
loses us again,” he challenged.

"I am out of here,” Jay announced to
Missy.

"Bye boss,” she said. Jay noticed the
pleasant upturn of her mouth and her fine facial features.

She is so young and so pretty
.

"See you in a couple weeks,” Jay said.

"I'll miss you,” she said.

"I'll miss you too,” Jay said. He leaned in
and gave her an older brother kiss on the cheek. It was extremely
unprofessional but it felt right at that moment.

"Bye,” she called to his retreating
figure.

Jay left work, went home, packed a small bag
and headed for the subway. He'd figured he'd use his favorite
dodges to lose a tail if one was on him. Jay wanted to enjoy his
vacation without having to look over his shoulder. He hadn't
counted on the wounded pride of the junior CIA man from Stan
Krantz' group.

"He ain't gonna lose us this time,” Warren
Fishky said. He'd called in an additional team and meant to stay on
Jay tight. "The transmitter I planted in Calloway's running shoes
figures to help,” he explained to his fresh team.

"He's moving,” the agent said. "He's not
going for his truck.”

"Shit,” the agent in charge muttered. "Did
you copy that? He is not going for the truck," Agent Warren spoke
into his radio.

"One?”

Click.

"Two?"

Click, click.

"Three?"

Click, click, click.

"Four?"

Click, click, click, click. Each of the chase
teams responded on their radios with short clicks on their
transmitters. Someone two feet away wouldn't have noticed the
motion required. Agent Fishky was taking everything serious after
the dressing down he'd taken earlier in the day for losing Calloway
at lunch. Warren Fishky was deathly afraid of his boss, Stan
Krantz.

Jay loitered by the bank of payphones outside
the entrance to the 1/9 subway stop in the World Trade Center. He
was scouting to make sure no-one was on him. He thought he'd seen
one man watching him but then that guy had walked away and not come
back. Jay heard the ringing bell indicating the arriving subway
train below. He hung up the phone he was holding as a decoy.

"Here we go,” Jay said to himself.

"Here we go,” Fishky announced. A series of
clicks came into his earpiece.

Jay started down the steps, turned the corner
at the bottom of the staircase, counted to five and then turned and
started back up the steps. A middle-aged woman and a non-descript
man passed him as he worked back up the steps.

Got you,
Jay congratulated
himself.

"Damn,” the agent muttered as he finished
going down the stairs. He continued down to the turnstiles. "He
made me,” the agent said into his radio when Jay was out of
sight.

"Damn,” Fishky replied. "Go to La Guardia and
set up there. That’s where he flew out of with Tonia. You never
know.”

"One,” the agent replied.

Jay strolled casually back into the World
Trade Center concourse. "Onto the A train,” he spoke to himself.
The street person agent immediately spotted him. Even made eye
contact and said “God bless you sir.” Jay stopped and handed the
man a ten.

After riding uptown, wandering around the
Herald Square A&S shopping mall, ducking in and out of several
fast food restaurants and taking three separate spur of the moment
cab rides, Jay had knowingly or unknowingly ditched all of Fishky's
men. The last one unknowingly when a cab he'd hired ran a red
light.

As his final stop before heading to the
airport, Jay stopped in at the Wall St. Golf Club to hit a bucket
of balls. When he was done he showered and changed out of his
outfit into one that he had stored in his locker. In an incredibly
bad stroke of luck for Warren Fishky, Jay removed the sneakers that
had the transmitter in them and put on another pair of sneakers.
Five minutes later Warren Fishky arrived, and just one minute too
late. The CIA man established a stake out on the club while Jay,
already gone, headed for the airport.

An hour later, Jay was waiting for his flight
at Islip MacArthur airport. He'd paid cash for his ticket and given
a phony name. It was a clean getaway.

"I could've been good at the CIA,” Jay
congratulated himself.

Chapter

"Now batting for the Cincinnati Reds,
Barrrrry Larkin,” the announcer at the Plant City baseball stadium
voiced. A cheer went up from the sold out spring training
crowd.

Jay Calloway was seated comfortably with his
back against the low concrete wall in the last row behind first
base. The late spring sun beat down on his newly sun burnt
face.

Two weeks of spring training baseball in
the sun
, Jay mused. "Heaven. I'm in heaven,” he hummed. His
mind drifted to the sunny spring day when he'd met Tonia at the
Mets game. Another small smile came to his face. Slowly he pulled
his binoculars up and scanned the action on the field and then the
action in the stands, halfway expecting to see Tonia's warm smile
and corn silk golden hair.

"Spring training babes,” Jay said to himself.
"Yeow.”

"Chill out there big boy,” Rick Hewlett said.
Jay nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Holy shit you scared me,” Jay said. "How'd
you sneak up on me like that. I was looking for you.”

"It wasn't hard rookie.”

"I was expecting you five days ago, the last
time Rijo pitched. Didn't you get the message or something?" Jay
asked.

"I got it. I'm here ain't I?" Rick teased. "I
was here on Saturday too, but I wanted to tail you for a few days,
make sure no-one was on you,” Rick said.

"I never noticed you,” Jay said.

"I know,” Rick smirked.

"I'm getting better,” Jay started. "I dropped
three in New York before I set out.”

"Three?" Rick asked admiringly, although a
look crossed his face like he knew better.

"Three,” Jay answered. "I read all those Le
Carre and Cussler and Clancy novels you told me to.”

"Good job,” Rick said. The two friends
settled in for the rest of the game, the months apart slipping away
quickly and quietly in the rites of renewal of spring baseball. Jay
and Rick ate hot dogs and drank soda and downed a pretzel and ice
cream. Jose Rijo, son-in-law of Warren Spahn, pitched five
scoreless innings in the grapefruit league game. Any devoted Reds
fan like Rick or Jay would have understood Jay's coded message.
And, that fan would have known the name of the hotel in which Jay
would be staying, if they had the data structures book for the
code.

"So what do you want to do?" Jay asked Rick
after the game.

"Play some golf, watch some baseball, play
Galaga, work on a tan.”

"Excellent,” Jay replied, doing his best
Wayne's World imitation. "With this new job I need all the
relaxation I can get.”

"Wall St. getting to you?"

"You know it.”

“
That’s what C. Daniel
said.”

“
You talked to
him?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Lunch in New York didn’t
go very well. I think he thought that I’ve changed.”

“
Have you?”

“
I must have. He wouldn’t
have said anything otherwise. I’ve apologized in email, but it
hasn’t been the same. I guess that’s one of the bad parts of moving
to the City.”

"What's the worst?"

“
You mean other than being
followed around by God knows who for God knows what
reason?”

“
Yeah. Other than
that…”

"There's so much that’s so bad about it.
Mostly it's too many people all in a bad mood who think they live
and work in heaven and don't want to hear otherwise. I just don't
understand most of the people there.”

"Who does?"

"Nobody I know,” Jay answered.

"Me neither,” Rick said. He pulled at his
grey-flecked beard.

"So what's up with you and Tonia?" Rick
asked.

"You think we’re still together?" Jay
asked.

"You've been down here five days. At least
three different women, one girl, and for some reason five or six
different waitresses have practically thrown themselves at you and
yet you've been sleeping alone.”

"So?"

"So either you've got your period or you're
still in love with Tonia.”

Jay shook his head back and forth slowly, his
eyes took on a faraway look. Rick saw it and waited patiently for
his younger friend to explain.

"Well,” Jay started, "I thought it was love
but now I'm not so sure.”

"Why?"

"We used to talk all the time and go great
places and do it in exotic locations and it was absolutely
incredible. But now we hardly talk anymore and sometimes I see a
sadness in her eyes when we're together. Which isn’t very often.
It’s like she just checks up on me once in a while, and even then
her heart isn’t in it. It’s like it’s a job for her.”

"She's married right?" Rick asked.

"Yes. But what's that got to do with
anything?"

"You tell me,” Rick said. His voice had taken
on the calm Socratic lecturing tone Jay had heard often when Rick
was trying to guide a student towards their own solution to a
problem. Though Jay recognized the method he was still caught up by
it.

"Yeah she's married. Maybe she feels trapped
in her marriage or something. The other night when I called her
someone else answered the phone. And it wasn't Angus.”

"Angus?"

"Her husband.”

"You know her husband on a first name basis?"
Rick asked.

Jay got a decidedly guilty look on his
face.

"Actually I know him really well. And I kinda
like him. He's one of the founding partners at our firm. We play
golf together sometimes. I like the guy. And he’s been really good
to me.”

"Yeah?" Rick prodded.

"Yeah it seems like he's taken a personal
interest in my career. He personally put me in my new job.”

"Angus MacKenzie did that?" Rick asked.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Jay snapped
defensively.

"No,” Rick answered, picking up Jay's ego
defense. "Not at all. I'm very impressed with your success,” Rick
soothed sincerely. Rick shook his head and tugged thoughtfully at
his beard again. "How did you meet him?"

"Bill Beck introduced me and then we went to
play golf as an 'attaboy' for a job we did. I almost shit my pants
when Tonia showed up to play the back nine with us.”

"She played golf, with both of you, together,
at the same time?" Rick asked.

"It was absolutely crazy,” Jay said. Rick
shook his head in disbelief.

"And then things went from the absurd to the
sublime.” Jay told the story of New Year's Eve, the new job and his
wild dashes through the subway to lose his tails. Rick listened,
taking mental notes. He saw the pattern that Jay had missed.

"Jay you have had one incredible year in
NYC,” Rick said.