2 A Month of Mondays (4 page)

It was Jake’s turn to nod.

“So, she was tailing me. Galbraith suspected as much. I was
to go to Atlanta to trap my tail. Evidently, they had convinced me to do even
more in the process. So, who killed her?”

Kyle shrugged.

“We don’t know. Second shooter theories out there suggest
that an alternate trigger for the EMP devices you planted was used from a
remote location. We pegged you there. We thought Camilla had you in hand. The
next thing we knew, all electronics were fried. When we got a team down to the
grounds, you were gone and Camilla dead. I have to admit, you were a suspect
for the first twenty-four hours.”

Jake whistled.

“Look, Jake. I know you feel disoriented. I am sure you are
grateful to be out of harm’s way. I am going to be completely up front with you.
I am in a big jam here.”

“You think I can help.”

“I know you can. I know you want some answers. You have to
realize there is pressure from the Deputy Director to cut your strings and let
you and Hallie move on to the private sector. I am holding him off because I
need your skills, your access.”

Jake rolled his eyes. He was a chess piece here, too.

“Kyle, I would love to help, but I am just discovering my
real place here.”

“Before you continue, Jake, I want to put you at ease. No
pressure. Talk to Dr. Vrabek and see if she can help you get past these memory
blocks. We will get that implant in your hip out in the morning, and have
someone look at your arm. With Hallie and Macy’s help, maybe you will be back
in the saddle again before long. When you are ready, I have an assignment for
you.”

Jake scratched his head.

“I’m confused, Kyle. Why would you be so eager to have me
back in the field?  You have probably hundreds of agents and dozens of Special
Agents at your disposal as well as the NYPD, if what I saw today was any
indication. You can put any of those assets in play. Why am I valuable?”

Kyle sat back in his chair and sighed.

“Until you have been debriefed, passed a psych exam, and
pass a review board, you cannot officially go back to work. I am asking you to
do something as a personal favor to me.”

“Why would I do that, Kyle?”

“Because we are friends, Jake.”

No Place Like Home

Hallie drove the late model Chevy Blazer down the off ramp
onto North Columbus. Like many drivers, she was on autopilot. She was tired of
feeling alone. She had wanted desperately to believe that her life would soon
be normal.

After Camilla had briefed them on her experience with Jake
on the trip to LA, Hallie had finally been able to convince Kyle to allow her
to infiltrate the organization. It had taken a couple of months, but by April,
she was able to get assigned to Jake’s floor. She watched him, was able to follow
him. She was astounded when he did not recognize her. Camilla had been right.

Then, Atlanta happened. The Director was furious. She had
acted as quickly as she could, called in all her favors and gotten him out of
there. Only time would tell if she had the real Jake back. In the back of her
mind, she still feared that he had turned rogue and that all this was an act. How
could he even conceive of assassinating the man he had been sworn to protect?

She tried to quiet her fears. Jake was still the man she had
fallen in love with in Berlin. She had to have some faith.

She turned into the drive of her home. Their home. Was two
years so long?  She killed the engine and sat listening to the quiet pinging of
vehicle as it cooled. She sat in the drive, the air outside cool and moist. She
stared at the house in front of her. She had been away for three weeks now. Too
long.

She had managed to push papers at her desk job for the past
two years. This house had been home to her and Macy. She had agonized over the
decision to leave Macy with her uncle in Stamford, Connecticut. Macy always
enjoyed going with him to the docks and watching the “pretty boats” and big
barges. Oscar would get the barge captains to sound their horns. This delighted
Macy, Oscar told her. He did his best to put her at her ease. Since Aunt Sylvia
had passed away, Oscar had been lonely. Their kids lived in California and
Texas. Macy kept him young, he claimed.

She considered the house looming before her in the dark. Hallie’s
grandparents had left it to her as a wedding present when they had moved to
Maryland. The house was too big for them and the taxes too high. If it were not
for the lack of a mortgage, the taxes would be too much for her and Jake’s
salaries, as well.

The home was a sprawling two-story frame home with a large
yard, mature trees, and three car garage. It was worth more than a million
dollars. Macy loved it. It was like a big play house for her. She was the
princess of a royal mansion, in her mind. It made Hallie smile to think of it. She
had missed her. She was anxious to grab her and pick her up again and listen to
her laugh.

Hallie firmly believed that nothing in the world could
threaten the happiness of a mother tickled by the sound of her child’s
laughter.

Hallie finally climbed out of the car. She needed to call
her friend, Linda, to see when she could bring Macy over. Linda had agreed to
drive up to Stamford and bring Macy back. Hallie had considered waiting until
Jake got home to call Linda. She had missed his body next to hers. She thought
briefly that it would be nice to smell his hair and caress the cavity at the
base of his neck with her lips and feel the tightness of his stomach against
hers. It would be wonderful to watch him smile. She discarded the thought. Jake
had a lot of adjusting to do. She understood his distance, even though she
desired to have things back to the way they were.

When she had left him in the office, she did not have much
promise of Jake wanting to make up for lost time. To him, he had missed his whole
life. Kissing him in the elevator had brought it all back for her, a rush of
emotions. She had pent up all her concerns for two years, knowing that it was
expected of her. It was the professional thing to do. Never mind that she found
herself crying at commercials where a father was with his daughter or those
stupid jewelry ads that came in the mail.

The elevator had meant more for her than for him. The
realization of that was a punch in the stomach. How could he not remember?  She
chastised herself for thinking that her life was some sort of fairy tale where
one kiss from the damsel would change the frog into a prince.

She fumbled with her keys and jumped when the front door
opened. Linda stood there, a smile on her face.

“A little jumpy, aren’t we?”

“You scared me. Long day today. I wasn’t expecting you to
already be here.”

“I heard Jake is back.”

Hallie looked confused.

“Who told you?”

“Tom called and asked if he could come over tonight after he
drops Jake off,” Linda said.

Tom and Linda had been sleeping together for about four
months now. It was against Hallie’s recommendation, but she figured it was
surly of her to despise their relationship while her husband was gone. Envy was
such an ugly emotion.

“You don’t think that maybe I would want my first evening
with my husband home alone with him,” she asked only half joking.

Linda smiled.

“I figured you would want to spend it together as a family. Macy’s
in the kitchen making a mess. Come on, I don’t think she heard you come in,”
Linda said. She shuffled off toward the kitchen.

“Hey.”

Linda turned, her blonde hair falling across her face. Hallie
noted that she wore jeans and a loose blouse.

“Yeah?”

“Umm. Let’s not tell her about Jake yet,” Hallie said.

“You look worried. Is something wrong?”

Hallie shook her head and tried to put a smile on her face.

“I want to surprise her is all,” she said.

Linda looked at her doubtfully. Linda knew her too well. It
was probably because in Linda’s practice as a psychiatrist, she learned to read
lies.

“What is really happening, Hallie?”  Linda put her hands on
her hips and barred the way into the kitchen.

The door was closed, but Hallie could hear Macy’s voice. Macy
liked to talk, even when no one was in the room. Hallie figured lonely people
did that a lot. She was overcome with sadness, thinking of their plight as a
family. She tried not to consider what the future might hold. She did not want
Linda to see her cry.

“I’m not sure Jake will come home tonight,” Hallie admitted.

“But Tom said…”

“Jake will ditch him or force him to drop him off somewhere.
I think Jake needs some time to adjust is all.”

“What kind of undercover operation was he doing?” Linda
blurted.

Hallie did her best to bite her lip.

“Like I have said before, Linda. It is classified. I cannot
say. He is traumatized, which is understandable. It might take some time for
him to come back home.”

Linda shook her head. Hallie resented the look of pity she
saw in her eyes.

“If there is anything I can do, Hallie, you know we have
been friends longer than you have known Jake.”

Hallie nodded and pushed a loose strand of hair back on her
face. Her hands still hurt from the flight from the building this morning. Mentally,
she noted that she should see the company doctor tomorrow and get a manicure. Nothing
could make a girl feel whole like a fresh nail job and a new pair of shoes. She
cursed her luck on losing the Bottega Venetas. They were the only luxury she
had allowed herself from her lone but large paycheck from Galbraith.

“I will let you know. Maybe we can go shopping for shoes
this weekend,” Hallie suggested.

Linda smiled and took Hallie’s arm in hers.

“Now you are talking my language. Come into the kitchen. We
will surprise her with her Mommy.”

Hallie appreciated Linda’s energy and outlook. She needed a
positive influence right now. She was not normally dispirited, but the day she
had longed for had come and the disappointment was enough to overwhelm her.

No sooner had the door opened when she heard an
ear-splitting scream.

“Mommy!”

Macy rushed up to her and tackled her legs. Hallie realized
that it seemed her daughter had grown since she had last seen her.
How does
this happen?
  When Jake left, she was two. Now she was getting ready for
pre-school and growing a half inch per week.

“Whoa there, Macy-girl!” 

Whenever Macy was around, Hallie had a difficult time not
smiling. It seemed that this was a common ailment amongst those who experienced
Macy in all her glory. She was contagious. Infectious.

“I told you Mommy would be home soon,” Linda said. She put
her elbows across the island and her knee up on a stool. Her smile took in her
whole face. Hallie looked up at her.

“Thanks for watching her, Linda. I owe you so much.”

Linda waved her off.

“You introduced me to Tom. Count us even.”

Hallie scoffed. She rubbed her hands in Macy’s chestnut
hair.

“Hardly an even trade.”

“Mommy?”

Hallie looked down to see Macy’s bright green eyes staring
up at her. Hallie knew she was putty in Macy’s hand. She hoped that Macy did
not realize that. Her teen years would be unbearable if she knew that dangerous
fact. Hallie wondered if it was a common condition among families, this
strength in weakness.

“Yes, Pumpkin.”

“Can we go to Swizzle’s before it closes?”

Hallie smiled. She wanted to refuse, but Macy was a sucker
for cake batter flavored yogurt.

“It’s the least I can do for you. I am so glad to see you
again.”

Linda made her way for the door.

“It appears my work here is done. I will leave you two to
your ice cream. Ms. Linda has her own dessert to look forward to tonight,” she
said. She reached back and kissed Hallie on the cheek.

Hallie smelled strawberries.

“Take care, hon.”

“Bye Miss Linda!” Macy chimed. In her head, Macy was
probably already choosing her toppings. Hallie envied the simple choices of
children.

Chocolate chips or caramel cream?  Heck, why not both? 

Linda left and Macy wanted to show her what she had drawn.

Hallie sat on the stool with her elbows on the table while
Macy retrieved her masterpiece from her overnight bag. Hallie ran her hands
through her hair and attempted to put on her Mommy Face. The face that would
tell Macy that she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The face that
denied that Hallie was lonely and missed Macy’s father. The face that lied.

Macy joined her and plopped a large, thick piece of canvas
up on the surface of the island.

“I drew this at Miss Linda’s!  She has colored pencils AND
watercolors. I mixed them!  It is our family.” Macy said proudly.

Hallie beamed in spite of herself. Then she looked at the
picture her daughter had painted and she felt her resolve slip. She fought back
a sob.

“It’s lovely, honey,” she said. To cover the tears that
flowed from her face, she hugged Macy. It was not totally insincere. Hallie
hugged her because in all the world, Macy was her jewel.

She closed her eyes and tried to get the image out of her
head. What upset her was not what Macy had painted but what she had omitted. Macy
had swirled together watercolors for the sky and the house that was obviously
theirs. Out front in colored pencil were Macy, Hallie, and Miss Linda.

Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

Tom had seemed like such a nice guy, Jake had almost taken
him up on the offer to stop and get a beer and talk before heading home. Instead,
Jake had opted to walk. He had found a pub not too far from the office. It was
dark and filled with lawyers and doctors, students and locals. He enjoyed the
dark paneling, the brass railings, the green leather seat-backs.

Jake ordered a burger and a beer. He had not eaten all day. His
head felt full, though. He did not know what was bothering him the most: his
past, his present, or his future. They all seemed distant to him.

Even now, he could not bring himself to make the call he
knew he needed to make. Something told him that Hallie would understand. That
did not make it alright to avoid her, though. Jake was disappointed in himself.

He was pretty certain he could trust Hallie. No one, not
even Gary, had ever stuck their neck out for him that he could remember. Unless
you counted Camilla Cross.

But could he trust himself?

He was an assassin. He killed people for a living. Three
days ago, he had been able to justify his career and now he was morally
appalled. This transformation was because of what?  His sudden realization that
he was actually a glorified detective-slash-bodyguard?  The thought that he was
a father?  A husband?

Jake suspected that all these reasons played into the role
of making him feel guilty. He felt remorseful that he had allowed himself to
become degraded enough to succumb to his baser instincts.

He stared at the half-eaten burger on the plate by his elbow.
He had shoved it aside. He was hungry. It tasted great. It had enough grease
coming from the burger to soak the soft bun. His appetite would simply not
allow him to finish it.

Absently, he wondered if even opinions, likes and dislikes,
emotions, and feelings could be transplanted in the same way his memory was
erased. People were manipulated all the time. The average American consulted
the temple of the television every day to know what to think, how to feel, or
what was popular.

How was he any different?

He tried to console himself with that truism. It did not
work.

Finally, he took a bite of the burger again. It was good
cold, too. He called the waiter over and ordered a glass of milk. He had him
take the empty beer mug away. He loved drinking milk with his burgers. It was a
tradition. He had done it since…since when?  He was a kid? 

This had been happening to him all day. Snippets of his
memory would come back. A Hanson poster on the wall by his bed. Watching the
coverage of the Oklahoma City Bombing on a console television. Remembering his
mother working in the kitchen making bread with her new bread-maker. His dad
talking politics.

Just snippets. It was like looking at a spectacle through a
crack in a floor or through a key hole.

Rather than making him feel better, it actually served to
drive him deeper into self-pity and self-loathing. The more memories that
surfaced, the more he felt like he was a good man gone bad.

Another side effect of these memories was that he had no
control over which ones would bubble up. He tried fishing them out, digging
around, and extracting them, but he met walls of resistance. He only made his
head feel worse and his stomach lurch. He could not remember Berlin. He could
not remember a marriage ceremony. He could not remember holding a daughter.

He knew that his inability to remember those things were
paramount to Hallie. They meant something to her. He desperately wanted to
recall them so that they could revel in his triumph and celebrate together
shared memories. Jake knew his procrastination was centered mostly on this
failure. He did not want to go “home” until he knew that what he was
experiencing there was a true recollection of his former, better life.

He did not deserve to hold his daughter in his arms and
accept her love. He did not deserve the love that Hallie obviously felt toward
him.

He remembered her kiss in the elevator. Something had awoken
in him, but he had imagined that it was merely a man thing. Of course he
responded. He was not dead.

He heard the pub door open. The bartender greeted the
newcomer with a traditional “Welcome to Harry’s!”

Jake turned and took in the form of Giselle standing in the
doorway scanning the heads in the room with a slight smile on her face. Jake
fought the urge to run. He knew she was here for him. Why else would she come
here?  She was obviously out of her element.

Giselle wore her long hair up. Strands of it fell to the
nape of her slender neck. Her mouth glistened with a dark red lipstick that
stood out against her porcelain skin. Her dress hugged her body provocatively,
while maintaining a modest coverage of her skin. Only her arms and calves were
exposed.

It did not matter. Every male and most females in the pub
turned to her. She was like a magnet. She knew it, too.

She saw him. He tried to smile. She moved toward him and the
waiter intercepted her. She pointed to him. He could barely distinguish her
words over the din of the diners and revelers. He could not help himself. He
watched her moving toward him, her body athletic and alluring.

She pulled up a seat beside him.

“How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” she said coyly. “Is that how you greet
your friends?”

“It’s the implant, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

The waiter stopped by with a dark bottle of beer labeled,
Orkney Porter. Jake looked at it quizzically.

“Norwegian?”

“Scottish Isles, actually. It is sweet. Less alcohol taste,”
Giselle explained. She curled her nose and then laughed lightly. It was like
bells chiming.

The waiter set down his milk.

“Russian?” she asked, a smiling playing at her lips.

“Jersey, actually.”

“Oh. I see. A cow,” she said, tilting her head. Her hair
sparkled in the lights from the bar. Her eyes never left him.

“If I can get you anything else, let me know,” the waiter
said. His eyes lingered on Giselle a moment and he walked smoothly away.

Jake tried to regain control of the conversation. If he let
her, she would run him right over. He would be putty in her hands. His self-esteem
was low enough as it was.

“Look. I know this appears like I am looking for company
here, but I am trying to get some things sorted out.”

She looked serious. She sipped the beer and nodded.

“I know. I thought you would want to know there is a contract
out on your head.”

He dipped his burger in the milk and smirked at her.

“You are the second person today to tell me that. Am I
supposed to be intimidated?  Scared?  Grateful to you for giving me this
information?”

“I am the only reason you have not been taken yet,” she said.
The smile never left her lips.

Jake took a bite of the burger, soaked in milk. It tasted
wonderful. He chewed slowly, thinking of what he would say next.

“I am married.”

Her smile extended until he saw the brilliant white of her teeth.

“That explains much.”

He rolled his eyes. She never stopped, this temptress.

“So, why are you holding the dogs at bay, then?  Why spare
me?”

She took another sip of her beer and leaned forward.

“Why, silly, you are valuable.”

He scoffed.

“Valuable?  I am broken, Giselle. My cover is blown, my past
is exposed. I am not an assassin. I am an agent.”

She shook her head.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,”
Giselle teased.

Jake sighed. She was not going to allow him to feel sorry
for himself.

“I have been thinking about my job, Giselle. Several things
don’t add up,” Jake admitted.

She shrugged.

“Working for the US government can be conflicting, as I
understand it,” Giselle said.

He shook his head.

“Wrong job. I mean, Galbraith. Sinegem. Darius. Lars. Me. Atlanta.
Help me understand, Giselle. I suspect you have the answers.”

She smiled.

“I told you that you are valuable, Mr. Monday.”  Last names
again.

“Business.”

She tilted the bottle toward him and flashed another smile.

“I cannot divulge answers to someone who can potentially
work for my enemy,” Giselle threatened.

Jake looked away. Staring at her was like looking at a
bright light. If he was not careful, she would draw him in. He needed to
distance himself from her sexuality, he needed to block out the thoughts going
through his head.

He needed to do this as a means of survival as much as
respect for his wife. The wife he had forgotten. But had he really? 

“So you want to blackmail me with information. You want to
trade your information for my skills. That hardly seems like an even trade,”
Jake offered.

Giselle pursed her lips.

“What do you want to know, Jake?”

“I don’t know where to start,” Jake said. He rubbed his
cheeks with is hand, feeling the stubble there. He stared at her, and it came
to him. “You are Eilif’s daughter,” he said.

“I thought you had questions,” she said. Her eyes betrayed
her anger.

“What does he have to do with all this?”

“He has nothing to do with you. Except that he would perhaps
like to exact a revenge on you for what you did in Ventura.”

“You won’t allow him?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t have that much control over my father. He can be
manipulated, he can be used. He is much like you in that regard. I cannot
control you, but I can use you.”

Jake looked at her in a different light. He had never seen
Giselle as dangerous before.

“So, Atlanta?  What was that?”

“A poor attempt to trap a government agent, murder an
important man, and implicate you in the process. It was sloppy, ill-conceived, poor
timing, and overly ambitious. It was doomed to fail,” Giselle explained. Her
voice was dripping with venom.

“I take it that this was not your idea.”

“Not entirely, no. Suffice it to say that we live in a
dangerous time. No one is safe. No one can be trusted,” Giselle said. She finished
her beer and set the empty bottle on the table with a loud clack.

“Not even you?”

Her grin was mischievous.

“Especially me, Jake. Even my father does not know of my
machinations, or my motives.”

“You in a sharing mood?”  Jake wanted information. He craved
it. It was his only chance at redemption.

“You were the one behind the operation in Ventura,” Jake
guessed.

“Yes. Do not ask me why, Mr. Monday. You will insult me.”

“Then why am I involved in this?  What is my role?”

She shrugged.

“You are another player is all. The only difference is that
you are a piece to be played.”

“What if I don’t want to play anymore?”

Giselle turned her head and put her hand up for the waiter. He
hustled over. She turned back to him.

“Then, go home to your wife and child. Go back to work and
lead a good American life. An honest life. But live it well, Mr. Monday because
your days will be numbered. No one leaves Galbraith without repercussions.”

The waiter arrived. She looked up at him and batted her
eyes.

“Shawn, can you bring me another Orkney?”

“Of course,” Shawn said. He was more cheery than he needed
to be. It was just a beer, after all.

“And, bring my friend here another…what is that?”

“He has milk. I will bring him another,” Shawn said. His
eyes never left Giselle.

He turned and went back to the bar.

“Is that a threat?” Jake asked.

Giselle chuckled and reached into her purse.

“I am merely stating the obvious, Jake. Galbraith will do
what it wants. Even though I have pull there, I in no way control all that goes
on.”

“So, you can manipulate, but not control. That must bother
you, not being in control,” Jake accused.

She waved the thought away and sat back in her chair.

“I don’t trouble myself with things or people I can’t
control. Control is often merely an illusion, anyway. Things happen for a
reason, people harbor their own motivations. Real power comes not from direct
control but from setting up the board so that the pieces move in predictable
patterns.”

“Manipulation.”

“Why fool ourselves to think we win a game because we play
the game better than our competitors?  Is it not easier to alter the rules of
the game?  Then the win is sweeter.”

“You speak in riddles, Giselle. I am talking about real
lives here. You are messing with my life,” Jake allowed his anger to boil to
the surface. He could feel his face flush. He grabbed the edge of the table and
could feel its rough edge against the palm of his hand.

“You are right, of course. Jake, I have asked you directly
almost half a dozen times to join me. The implications of that are mysterious
to you, of course. I have not fully outlined the parameters of this arrangement.
Trust me, Jake; you will be happy that you chose to align your services to my
cause.”

“Trust you?”

“Despite your better judgment, yes. Some serious trouble is
coming Jake and the side you choose will determine your fate.”

Jake finished his milk and got out his wallet. He laid two
twenties on the table.

“I choose my side. I am my own faction.”

Giselle shook her head and looked at him with eyes full of
pity and disappointment.

“Mr. Monday. You do not even know what game you are playing.
You have no idea who else is playing. You do not know their positions. You are
blind, naïve, inexperienced and without an ally. How do you expect to win?”

Jake realized then that he was making the right decision. Giselle
felt threatened.

“I don’t, actually. Maybe I can take out a player or two in
the course of the game. That will be enough for me,” Jake said, seething. He
got up and walked around the table as Shawn returned with their drinks. He took
Giselle by the arm.