Jeff finds himself in Washington DC on business trying to close a big deal for his company where he meets up with Nancy again, the FBI agent he had fallen in love with in Atlanta nearly two years ago. Jeff is separated from his wife because of Nancy
Chapter 5 of
Friday, 4:54 PM:
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- Chris Lamela
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K Street, Chapter 5
Friday,
4:54 PM: Georgetown
It was Nancy
“You love me?”
“Yes, I love you, I love you!”
She gasped, “Mister Jeff, I love you! It was all I could do not to tear your
clothes off you in that singles thing at your hotel last night and do you right
there on the floor in front of everyone there to show them how it’s done! If I
had done that maybe I would be laying with you right now!”
“Whoa, whoa, what brought all this on?” He could hear her catching her
breath. “Nancy, I already knew this. Last night, at the door, remember?” She
listened. “I knew that wasn’t the end. I don’t know how, I just knew.”
“Good. Me too.”
“So now that makes two of us,
are we back in sync?”
“Yes we are. Here’s some news. I told Shawn that I would offer to pick
you up to drive you to the party tonight, a kind of courtesy, he said that was
a good idea. That will give us a chance to talk so I can fill you in on what’s
going on. You game?”
“Yeah, that would be nice. That would be very nice.”
“Great, I will pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” he looked at the clock, it was almost four thirty.
“Isn’t this party at eight?”
“Yes, three hours just might give me enough time to fill you in. So be
ready there, mister, I will be there in twenty minutes.”
Jeff flopped back onto the bed feeling exhausted by the train of phone
calls, the explosion of I Love You echoing
across the wires. He looked up seeing the image of the kissing faces again. He
smiled noticing a third image of a face next to the kissing faces that appeared
to be looking at the other two. His eyes squinched looking at the three images,
the pair of faces lip-to-lip, the third a few inches away on the ceiling
looking at the other two with an expression of mild concern, with the eyes like
in a cartoon, slanted lines above them. He was afraid to blink his eyes for
fear that the images would disappear as they had before. But they persisted, as
though he was staring at some cryptic photograph or painting, like the ones you
see in museums where you are supposed to stand back with fingers to chin
extracting some deep meaning the photographer or artist tried to instill into
their work.
There were the rapid four knocks that Jeff heard so many times in Atlanta
“Can I come in?” Nancy
“I don’t know, there aren’t any naked little sluts in here for you to
terrorize like you did in Atlanta
She laughed, “Too bad, I really did enjoy that scene,” she reached out
pulling him to her, their lips met in a long passionate kiss.
He pushed her away gently,
“Look we’re both just a little confused right now. I think maybe we should take
it slow.” She poked out her bottom lip in a soft pout looking down, he bent his
neck to look up into her eyes, he continued, “It’s been a really confusing day
for me. It started out confusing and trust me, this afternoon hasn’t gotten any
better.” She gave him a curious look, he ignored it, pulling her to sit on the
bed, closing the door.
He kneeled before her down holding her hands, “Are you in love with
him?” She gave him a hesitant look, but he insisted, “I need to know, this is
important to me.”
There was a long pause. She said reflectively, “Do you remember your
words in Atlanta
He thought about the various conversations they had in Atlanta, especially
that Monday morning before the big shoot-out in the bar and the frightening
encounter with Perkins in that warehouse, with his little slut.
“No special sparkle, not even sure,” he repeated her words.
“Yeah, not really sure, and definitely
no special sparkle.”
Jeff felt hope rushing through his veins like hot oil had been poured
into his heart. He was afraid to look down at his arms for fear he would see
his arms bulging with red-hot lines, the heat coursing through his body.
“I don’t know, this is all so complicated,” he said softly thinking if
he should tell about his wife’s call today, but he was certain that would make
it even more complicated. Sitting next to her on the bed he knew that either of
them could toss the other back and that there would be no way they would be in
any condition for a party at eight up in Takoma
Park Nancy
She stood up, they embraced again in a deep kiss, stood hugging each
other until she finally pulled back. He could see tears streaming down her
cheeks. He had not heard her crying, was surprised, mascara running down her
cheeks. He had never even seen her wear mascara.
“I thought I was done crying over you,” she sniffed wiping her nose on
the back of her hand, “but I guess I still have a few tears left.”
He reached around behind him, grabbed a box of tissues, she took two
wiping her face and nose, “Thank you, I’m such a baby.”
“Yes, but right now you’re my baby.”
“That’s not helping me here,” she gave him a playful frown. She took the
tissues stepping up to the bedroom mirror carefully wiping her eyes and cheeks.
“Come on,” she said, “make sure to wear a nice coat, these people are
pretty snotty.”
He reached into the closet pulling out his favorite sport coat, the same
brown and tan tweed coat that was identical to the congressman’s cologne-stinky
coat in Atlanta
In a few minutes they were in Shonna’s car heading to Georgetown
“Come on, I want you to see the great house that Shonna gave to me.” He smiled
remembering the story Nancy had told him about the
old woman, Shonna, who Nancy Nancy
Jeff was immediately drawn back into some past era with the ornate
decorating and antiques in the large living room. “How big is the house?”
“Seven bedrooms, this room, formal dining room, library, what they
called a rumpus room which is like a family room, four bathrooms. It’s about
forty-two hundred square feet.”
“Wow,” he said, he sidled around the room. “This decorating…”
“The entire house is exactly as she left it except for the master
bedroom which kind of creeped me out, so I had it completely redone in modern.”
She signaled to him, “Come on, let’s do a quick tour, then we have work to do.”
Jeff frowned at the word work remembering
what that word meant in Atlanta
He followed behind her, she walked around the house pointing out various
architectural nuances saying the house was originally built in the
eighteen-nineties, was one of the first houses in all of Washington DC
They went up the long arched staircase with its massive dark-finish oak
banister, finally coming to the master bedroom. It was like walking into a
modern house with its very stylish designs, all new bathroom that was small but
efficiently laid out, tastefully decorated, very feminine.
She saw Jeff staring at the large California King bed lost in thought.
“I think we should go back downstairs,” she smiled pulling at his elbow,
“time for a beer, I think.” He shook his head out of deep thought, turning to
follow her.
“So Shawn has never been here?”
“He doesn’t even know this exists.”
“So he has never slept in your bed?”
“Oooh, listen to you! Jealous?” He shrugged. “Nobody has ever slept in
that bed with me.” She smiled, him feeling a hint that maybe he might be the
first.
When they got to the kitchen she went to the refrigerator pulling out
two Sam Adams, “It’s not Budweiser, but it’s beer.”
“I don’t even like Budweiser, but that’s all they seemed to serve in Atlanta
She popped the tops, putting the opener back into the drawer. “Well if
you like different kinds of beers, DC is the place. It’s not Portland
He nodded taking a long draft from the bottle. “So can I ask you a
question?”
“Sure,” she replied taking a drink from her long-neck bottle.
“In Atlanta
She laughed taking another sip of her beer, “Yeah, that was kind of my
trademark, wasn’t it?”
He watched her inquisitively waiting for her answer.
“Hearing ‘Yep’ come from Perkins when we were in that warehouse in
Atlanta, having my ‘Yep’ thrown at me
while he was holding a gun on us, I thought about it a lot after that.”
“That was the last word you said to me when I saw you last in Seattle
“Yeah, well that may be, come to think of it that may be the last time I
ever said that word, my flippy little ‘Yep’, but Perkins definitely took the
‘Yep’ right out of me!”
“Hey listen, Perkins almost took the
heartbeat right out of me, so
that makes perfect sense!” they clinked their bottles together with a laugh.
“So what’s going on?”
“Wait,” she turned back to the refrigerator grabbing two more Sam Adams
and the opener back out of the drawer. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”
They walked into the living room again. Jeff noticed the towering
windows looking out into the street where he could see a car driving by, a
couple walking by across the street. He looked around nervously trying to
figure out how to set his beer bottle down when she reached into a drawer, frisbeed
a coaster to him which he caught one-handed setting it down with his two
bottles on it.
“Good job!” she laughed, taking a long thoughtful sip. “You probably
already have figured out some things.”
“I think I left my Sherlock hat and pipe back in Atlanta
Jeff remembered all the craziness in Atlanta surrounded by people
pointing guns, the constant racket of triggers being pulled back, guns pointed
at him, at her, yet through that all they had managed to fall in love, enjoying
that wonderful night in Norcross together.
He sat back in his chair expectantly.
“So let’s just get started with what we
know, then we can try to figure out where to go from there.” She took a sip
setting her bottle down. “I met Shawn about a year ago when I was assigned to
investigate this Organization of Defense Strategy. It seems there have been
some whispers about illegal arms shipments. That’s all I knew. We came across
an arms shipment from Mission Technologies, paid them a little visit. They
showed us export permits. Everything seemed on the up-and-up best we could
tell. But it didn’t add up because they were lethal weapons that were banned
for shipment to the country we found them in.”
“What country?”
“We captured them in Iraq
“Good job again!” They laughed. “So anyway, we put the squeeze on them
figuring out that we had a loose thread. Got them to vouch for my bio which you
heard.”
He laughed, “Yes, that was quite impressive work to get nearly twenty
years of experience, with what, six patents in eighteen months? Yes, very
impressive!”
She laughed, “Yeah, well, it got me the credentials to sit at that table
today and a whole bunch of other tables.”
“So what has this to do with me?”
“Your company makes advanced components for unmanned aircraft, for UAV’s,
unmanned aerial vehicles, the new drones. You make everything but the plane
itself, right?” He nodded. “You make the guidance, avionics, all the video
equipment, controls, antennas, and while you customize it for the two planes
made by General Avatonics, it could be used on other planes.”
“But we only ever ship our equipment to General Avatonics.”
“Yes, but you ship spare parts and even whole systems as spares, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered thoughtfully, “but it would take a lot of
engineering to adapt our equipment to another UAV aircraft.”
“Okay, let’s set that aside for now. The point is that we have found
American military gear in places it doesn’t belong, including your company’s
gear.” Jeff listened with a sudden concerned frown. “We traced that equipment
back through a tortuous process of trying to find out how those missile
launchers landed in Iraq , how
your company’s gear ended up in Syria
“Wait don’t tell me, Organization for Defense Strategies. ODS. So you
think that this so-called good organization with congressman and senators on
its advisory board is actually doing arms dealing?”
“There’s more to it. Those congressman and senators are not from some
back-woods district sitting on schools committees in the House or in the Senate,
these are the chairmen of the armed services committees, defense appropriations,
defense oversight, just about every committee to do with anything related to
defense. These guys are the ones who approve budgets, amend laws to permit
sales of military gear, sit in secret sessions that permit all sorts of
behind-the-scenes deals under the cover of the National Security Act.”
“So they can bend the rules.”
“More than that, they make the rules and
then they bend them. They bend those rules so much that some of those rules
look like a twisted-up piece of licorice. Plus there is no public record of any
of it. None. All done in secret.”
“Hey, look, I just found my Sherlock hat after all!” Jeff playfully
reached into his pocket pretending to pull out an invisible hat that he
pretended to put on, carefully adjusting it, “and my Meerschaum pipe, too!” his
right hand holding a make-believe pipe. “So let me guess, the purchases by
let’s say, two respectable-looking Arab gentlemen who are actually fronts for a
friendly or not-so-friendly government who make their purchases directly from
our buddies at ODS who lobby their advisory members who then do a little rule
bending so ODS can arrange the export permits, shipping, and of course payment.
And because the congressmen and senators are advisory board members they are
paid for their services which are actually nothing more than bribes to turn the
other eye while all the dirty business is done by ODS.”
She gave a big smile, “Looks like my Sherlock is back!”
“So is that the long-and-short of it? That doesn’t seem that hard to
crack, why don’t you guys just go in and bust open the whole thing?”
“When you have eighteen members of your congress involved in something
like this you don’t just waltz in, start throwing names around. Careers will be
ruined, this would have a really nasty impact on the administration. The
President has been mostly briefed on this, he has specifically banned any such
action. Our good mister Clinton says hands off without his explicit approval.”
As she spoke he heard her little lisp again that he noticed in that
stinky little coffee shop in Atlanta
“So what are you going to do?” he asked.
“We are going to a nice little
party tonight, Sunday you are invited to a team meeting. There you’ll find out
more then we can figure out how you fit into all this.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I don’t want to go through this again. You guys are
going to expect some miracle like I did in Atlanta
“Jeff, we had no expectations in Atlanta
“But I was completely wrong! I
didn’t get the shooter right, nothing!”
“You are the one who came up with your Sherlock plan to get the bad guys
all in that bar together. Okay, maybe we didn’t mean for them all to murder
each other. But you were also the one who saved our lives when you came up with
your dog that didn’t bark in the night!
It’s because of you that we figured out that the shooter wasn’t a pro, that he
was reluctant. Knowing that is what saved our lives in that warehouse. You know
it!”
Jeff took a long thoughtful drink setting his bottle down with just an
inch of beer left on the bottom. “I just don’t know. You know I’ll do it for
you, but I won’t like it.”
“You’ll come tonight then, keep
your intuitive eyes and ears open, then you’ll come to the team meeting Sunday
afternoon. So are you in?”
He picked up his bottle finishing the last
small swallow plunking it down with a determined smile.
“Okay, yes. I’m in.”
NOW READ THE NEXT CHAPTER IN
K STREET!
http://chrislamela.blogspot.com/2012/08/k-street-chapter-6.html
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