Sweet Dreams (28 page)

"Yeah, back there," He pointed to a door down the hall just beyond the bathrooms. Kirk grabbed his items tossed the skinny balding shop owner a twenty, and walked out the back door, making his way to the rear of the building, circling around, he came up behind the Crown Victoria that was tailing him and set the coffee and doughnut down on a blue and white newsstand.

Ducking down to the ground, he pulled out his .45, crawled right under the door of the driver's side window, and took a deep breath. Jumping up, he smashed the glass of the driver's window and pointed the gun at the stunned man's temple.

Glass sprayed the man hitting him in the face, showered across his body and landed in the lap of the passenger. "Hey!

What... What are you doing?" The driver reached into his jacket to draw his weapon but stopped short when he saw Kirks finger tighten on his own weapon.

"Easy, pal, don't do anything you'll regret. I've got an itchy trigger finger, so nice and easy. You two place your guns on the dashboard and no funny business or I might slip and make a mess of your face and your shirt!" He motioned to the man sitting in the passenger seat. He had a huge dunlap belly that had done lapped over his belt and a pitted face from a hard teen life of zits and pimples.

The two men slowly took out their handguns and placed

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them on the dash. The man in the driver's seat was thinner than his partner, but not by much. He grimaced and his lips made a line and disappeared when he did this. He was tense and his face was flushed red with rage and embarrassment that a washed out cop got the drop on them.

"Now, hand them over nice-and-easy-like," Kirk lowered his voice and taunted them with it like a teacher talking to two bad kids who were in detention.

As soon as he had their side arms, he leaned in and said,

"So what are you boys doing tailing me?"

"We're FBI, and if you know what's good for you..."

"Good for me--
is
you two staying off my bumper unless you want to have it shoved down your throats!"

"You better watch yourself, Detective! And drop your interest in this case or..."

"Or what?" Kirk demanded, "What pray-tell do you think you are going to do to me? Huh? Let me guess, you might run to your daddy and tattle on me?"

Kirk took out a knife from his pocket and slashed the front tire, causing it to deflate with a loud hissing sound, the two feds yelled, but were soon quieted down with a wave of Kirk's gun.

"Now, you two just sit tight, and we'll be on our way, and next time, I won't be so nice." He grinned at them showing them all of his teeth. The driver managed to turn a brighter shade of red and Kirk laughed in his face daring him with his eyes to try something.

Kirk leaned in, took the two service issue pistols, and shoved one in each of his jacket pockets. Walking back to the newsstand he grabbed his coffee and went back to his car. 254 AARON

Geoff looked concerned as he watched the whole thing from the rearview mirror.

"You okay?"

"Yup," Kirk said as he sipped his coffee and a slight devious smiled pocked up from the corner of his mouth.

"Where's my water and bagel?"

Kirk looked at him and hit his forehead. "Right, water--

uh, want a doughnut?"

________________________________________

MARIA WAS BEGINNING TO get a little worried since she hadn't heard from Mark in a few days. She tried to be cheerful at the office, but everyone could tell that she had something on her mind, or
someone
.

The weekend with Mark was wonderful, and she feared that she was beginning to have feelings for him, she tried to push them away and hide them in the deep recess of her mind, but they came up like cream to the top. She tried calling his cell phone a few times, but just got the machine. Sitting in her brown leather La-z-boy watching the news, she saw a report about a cabin explosion out in the nearby forest where she used to go hiking as a kid. The reporter said that the cabin appeared to have no one in it at the time and looked to be a terrorist hideout due to the amount of C-4 that the police found in a nearby barn. Letting the words hit her ears but not really paying attention to it, she flipped to a game show and sipped on a cup of warm herbal tea.
Where is he? Why hasn't he called me
back?
Her mind wandered, and the more she thought about it, the sicker she felt inside.

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Picking up her cell, she dialed Mark again and listened as it rang.

No answer.

Closing her eyes, she let a single tear slip down her cheek as she thought about what could have happened to her friend. ________________________________________

MARK SAT IN FRONT of a warm fire staring at the flames as they shot up into the air. Solomon's office was a comfortable place, much like his own living room. The firelight flickered off the dark bookcases and bounced back, reflecting off Isis's black hair. The four sat, talking, and filled Mark in on his past as the night wore on.

Solomon was a wonderful host; he made them any drink he could dream up, and Isis talked in such a smooth tone that it would lull you to sleep if you let it. Big B could wake the dead with his laugh and his energetic presence and Mark found himself bonding to the big guy as if they were long lost brothers. Mark sat and looked around at his new friends, not sure yet what to think of it all.

The orientation took over two hours, between getting a new driver's license and ID that could not be traced and new fingerprint laser transference, amazingly enough, it was painless. The new credit card was what Mark liked the most, it was what he was to use for any and all transactions. It was untraceable, and all the money came directly from the WJA, not through any bank. It was then routed through hundreds of cities to throw off the scent, if it was ever needed. His credit cards and student loans were paid off with a simple phone call, and he put everything that made him Mark 256 AARON

Appleton into a vault in the lower security room. His name stayed the same, but any past record and his Social Security number was erased. On paper, he did not exist, no birth certificate, no traceable fingerprints, and no identity. Everything was replaced with his new one, which had him working for the Global Advisor as a consultant.

Mark thought about how he was going to break the news to Hank that he got another job. It would be hard, but he knew Hank would understand. Then he thought about Maria. He had grown close to her this past year; he did not know what he would do. He feared that he was developing feelings for her, but the fact that his family were killed and the realization that he couldn't move on and live a normal life after knowing that, changed everything.

The WJA would allow him to lead a somewhat normal life, but he had to commit full-time to the project. He would be living a lie with Maria if he kept this from her. He thought hard about if she would accept a friend who could never tell her where he was or what he was doing.

Mark took a sip of his iced coconut mocha, and smiled as he thought about how you can change who you are to a point, but he would always love his mocha's.

The morning brought a fresh start and a new life for Mark. He slept undisturbed for the first time since his family's death. He didn't get back to his apartment until late, and he crashed on his bed fully-dressed.

As the sun hit his face, and he began to stir wondering if the morning would bring something wonderful, or something from a horror novel. Opening his eyes, he looked at the ceiling, trying to get his brain to exit dream mode. A beep from

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the answering machine brought him into reality and he pushed the past few days from his mind.

Rolling out of his bed, he shuffled into the living room and looked down at the phone as if it was foreign to him. The little number light read fourteen messages.

"Hey, Mark, just wondering if you want to do anything tonight. I'll call you later,"

It was Maria--he hit the
next
button.

"Mark, just wondering where you are..."

Maria.

Next was the same, with her sounding more urgent with each message. One was from Hank, who was wondering if he was coming in this week. He said with the New Year coming up, that he could just take the next week off if he needed too. Picking up the phone, Mark dialed his office, hoping that Maria would answer. He heard her sweet voice as she did and he felt his heart jump in his throat.

"SED, how can I help you?"

"Hey, kiddo," Mark could tell that she recognized his voice right away from the excited tone and the rise in the speed in which she talked.

"Mark!" She tried to contain her excitement. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"I'm so sorry I didn't call--I had to go to a long meeting and got tied up."

"It has been three days, Mark. I thought you might have gone off and done something stupid. You were in a funky mood the other night."

"No, I just had some business to take care of. However, it's taken care of now. I do need to talk to you about some 258 AARON

things though; do you want to go out to dinner tonight?"

"I have to work a little late to get ready for the weekend, but if you'll pick me up at eight, then I'll be ready."

"Okay, eight, it is. Hey, can you get Hank on the line? I need to talk to him."

Maria transferred him to Hank, who seemed pleased to hear from him. "Hey, bud. You okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to see if you could break away for lunch, I need to talk to you," Mark tried not to sound nervous. He loved working at SED, but it just was not going to work out. The full impact of what he was now involved in had not yet hit him, but he had this feeling deep down where it hurt, that it was something that would change his life forever.

"Yeah. I'll meet you at Hugo's at eleven."

Mark hung up the phone, going over in his mind what he was going to say to Hank. He was not only his boss, but also his friend. It was going to be hard to quit, and he only hoped he would understand.

Mark jumped in the shower, trying to hurry. It was past ten, and he would need to leave soon to get down to the deli on time. As he pulled on his favorite pair of blue jeans, he grabbed his wallet. It felt lighter than normal; he flipped it open and remembered that everything had been replaced. His driver's license and everything personal were replaced with ones that the WJA could trace and track. He pulled out the credit card they gave him. He flipped it over, looking at the strip on the back. It looked just like any other card, but this one had no limit, or so they said.

He smiled; it was like winning the lottery, but without the exposure. He wondered if it was really unlimited and thought

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that he would try it out later today.

________________________________________

THE STREET WAS LINED with cars and a few trashcans rolling in the road after being tipped over by the wind or a bunch of kids who thought it would be funny to wreak havoc and destruction. Kirk drove slowly as Geoff looked for the right number. The houses were jammed close together, and almost all of them were two stories with absolutely no yards or privacy, tall and skinny, like living on top of each other, Kirk thought.

"Next one, I think," Geoff looked at the number on the old black mailbox. "Up on the left."

The house was stucco and had a few concrete steps leading up to the front door, which was painted blue and needed another coat. The yard was all dirt and had a little doghouse in the front yard with the name
Fluffy
over the door. It had a few patches of grass left and showed at one time the yard was a lush green lawn before
Fluffy
became the new tenant. Kirk touched the butt of his gun as he got out of the car, he had
that
feeling again, and
that
was never a good thing. The house had a light on in the living room, and Kirk could see through the half-drawn curtains a man reading the newspaper in a lounge chair. Geoff shut his door and followed Kirk up to the cracked peeling blue door. Knocking, they could hear someone moving around inside, and Kirk tensed as he waited.

Kirk could hear the dead bolt click and then a chain slide open. The door cracked open as a middle-aged man peered out looking at them with a look of curiosity and fear. 260 AARON

"Yeah? What do you want?" He barked in a gruff shaky voice.

Kirk held up his badge and said, "Detective Weston, and this is my partner" He pointed over his shoulder to Geoff.

"We just want to ask you a few questions Mr. Jenkins."

Jenkins sighed and opened the door waving them inside acting a little disturbed but he knew the program and something in Kirks face told him he was not going to detour him from his mission. He asked them to sit down and if they wanted anything to drink.

"No, I'm okay, but my partner would like a glass of water, if you've got one." Kirk smirked at Geoff, who just rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I'll be right back."

Jenkins walked back into the kitchen. The house was decorated with photos of family and simple trinkets you might find in an old spinsters house. Kirk could see by the photos on the mantle above a white brick fireplace, that Jenkins was married. Hanging on the wall and staring back at Kirk, was the happy couple, smiling, dressed in a tuxedo and a wedding dress.

The morning paper lay open on the coffee table next to a book on criminology. "Here you go." Jenkins handed Geoff a glass of ice water.

"Thanks," Geoff smiled and took a sip.

"So what can I do for you detective?" Jenkins sat down in his recliner and looked at them through his thick glasses.

"We're trying to get some information on a case that you and Cassy Meyers worked on a year or so ago."

"Oh?" Jenkins raised a single eyebrow and settled back in