++&&&&++
It was a quiet drive at first and Jackson found his mind wandering as he looked out the clear window. It wasn't even tinted, most likely a rental from the recently vacuumed floor and scent of freshener.
They made a turn down cobbled streets that put them off the major roads but Keplan showed no sign of slowing down.
The silence was broken before long when the man's curiosity took hold, or the quiet was just bothering him. In any case it didn't help the underlining tension in Jackson's chest.
"How did you start with them, Donovan?"
Jackson wasn't about to dignify it with an answer. The last thing he was interested in was sharing life-stories with the man. Yet for some reason Keplan was intent on continuing.
"Me…I was a driver. Just like this," Keplan went on to explain before turning a bend at a café that looked strangely inviting. "Tryin' to finish up school, make a little cash. My uncle owned a couple of cabs and the business wasn't too bad."
The mention of cabbies was a sour subject and Jackson's lips pressed tighter.
"So one day this guy hops into my cab and starts talking, like he's known me for years. Harrison was always the type to make it personal. But then you were recruited by Briggs, weren't you?"
Blue eyes narrowed and Jackson briefly wondered about buckling his seatbelt. He quickly dismissed the notion.
"She and I never talked very much, not until all this happened with you. Can't say I mind, she seems to have taken a liking to me."
More than likely found some dirt, Jackson couldn't help but think with a smirk at the idea.
"I don't get to do much driving these days, but every time I do it brings back those days before the Organization existed. I know they've been around forever but until you know about it, until you see it first hand, it never truly exists."
He paused, with that quiet expanse that Jackson always hoped would last a lot longer than the reality of it. He knew the point was coming, eventually.
"What happened to West?"
There it was.
The sounds of the Major's screams were still fresh and Jackson could still feel the blood washing away under the rain when Hannah had backed up the cab. He had only seen enough to know that Mailer had finally gotten a chance to take out his fury on the officer.
There was no pity to be spared on his end. When the cab had come back around the broken rear window had been enough to settle his mind about the matter. There had been much more important issues that lay on his lap at the time.
"Mailer."
He could see the brown eyes glance into the rear mirror but it did nothing to instigate more share-time on his part. Whether Keplan got the hint or not, time had run out. The car pulled to a stop outside a rather plain looking flat down a narrow strip. The buildings rose in stacks of two to three. It was nothing to write home about which was precisely why it had been chosen.
The locks clicked open and Jackson looked back to the driver. He remained motionless, uncertain.
"What, you want me to take you by the bloody hand?" the man snapped without bothering to turn around. "I was only told to bring you to the gate. Myself…I have much more entertaining ways to spend my day."
No doubt.
Keplan already had hit foot on the petal before the door had finished closing and Jackson was alone, left to look at the vacant windows that loomed over the sidewalk. Vacant, but he was confident he was already being watched.
With each stride he began to start the checks, second guessing every last detail. Clothes had been provided: a pair of fatigue pants and navy shirt. The air was cool on his skin and if he had a jacket he would have straightened it as best as he was able. At least he had made certain to tuck the shirt in. Style had been the last thing on his mind until he had taken that first step out of the car.
Her words came back to him from all those years ago: "You are better than the common man, better than every man under you. Dress the part so they never forget it."
The bell chimed with a tune that seemed uncharacteristically ordinary. She answered none-the-less.
"James."
There was a smile in the woman's eyes when she opened the door. If he hadn't been looking for it Jackson would have missed it otherwise. She was a petite woman, hair properly set upon her head in a way that told her age despite the attempts to color the strands gold. The last time he had seen her it had been a shade more bronze.
"Ellen."
They had never been the type to settle with last names. She insisted on no title regardless of the circumstance, feeling too old to be called Mrs. and too undistinguished to go by Miss. After three husbands she was sick of the confusion.
Jackson's gaze traveled past her to the man that stood at the living room doorway. Marks had never been a chatty man, and this time looked to prove no different. He looked miserable.
Ellen moved out of the way, giving room for Jackson to pass before closing the door. There was a nod to the guard and she proceeded to continue down the hall. By the glare Marks was sending his way, Jackson took the hint to follow. The office was almost homey, the dark-stained desk shone with polish. Maple, he wondered briefly.
"Close it," her crisp tone ordered and he didn't hesitate. The double doors creaked with rebellion.
By the time Jackson turned back around she had taken a seat at the desk and all traces of smile were gone. Papers were piled neatly and he couldn't help but notice the United Airways pamphlets.
Ellen rested with one arm against the table with the other propped against it and hand resting against her chin in an unhappy manner. There was a motion for him to take a seat across from her and he briefly considered it, taking in the sight of the wooden frame and dark blue material of the seat.
It looked uncomfortable and instead he steadied his stance, two feet apart, shoulders back, hands folded in front and his chin just up ever so slightly. She sighed and lowered her hands in front.
"I can't tell you what a relief it is that you are back."
"I never took you for one to play favorites."
The corners of her lips turned up. "It has nothing to do with favoritism. It is always refreshing to have these little meetings of ours. Normally they come in here groveling after a show like yours." She cocked an eyebrow thoughtfully looking down at the subject matters on the desk. "If they come in at all."
Might as well dive right in, while we are here.
"And when has it done any of them any good? I'd much rather have it out here and now if it comes to that." It had gotten her attention and she looked up with curiosity, thankfully no sign of anger. "You could have let me die, or hell, shoot me yourself here after your done belittling me on the shit job performance back in Miami. But somehow, I have the feeling you need me for something or you wouldn't have let me this far."
That did cause a smile, "Always straight to business, Mr. Donovan."
The use of name gave away the underlining feelings with harsh precision.
"It's all we've ever been about. I'm a professional and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Yes." There was skepticism in her tone and it did nothing to ease his unease. She tossed a manila folder across the table and he took a step forward to take it. "I hope this time there won't be any complications."
"Let me handle things on my own terms and I'll put on the best performance you could hope for..." Jackson doubted he would be so lucky, but it was worth the shot. He stepped back again, opening the folder to glance over the reports.
"Your own terms…" she scoffed. "You are amusing."
His eyes narrowed as he took in the information in his hands. Each page made him increasingly displeased.
"Here are the terms, Mr. Donovan." Jackson turned his attention back on her. "On June twenty-fourth Michael Edwards will be making a speech to introduce plans for the British refugees and the state of the country. They are already making small rounds to clean up the island, monitoring the decline of the disease, and yes, Mr. Donovan, it is waning despite how it must have seemed from a first hand experience."
Ellen paused and her features seemed to soften, "I did not envy you."
The target date was only a few weeks away. A few weeks to… "Which brings us to the topic at hand?"
"They want it public. Something to show the true decimation of Great Britain."
It struck him then with an odd sort of clarity that brought his eyes up to meet hers. "The virus was planted."
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Instead Ellen looked away as though the walls were suddenly a work of Picasso.
Her tone held the same sort of museum casualness that was spoken with a sigh as if it had been uttered a hundred times, "It was being studied. We've been assured that for the completion of this assignment the Organization will have full access to the vaccine along with the standard benefits, naturally. Events came about sooner than planned, but they intend to make full use of the results."
There was quiet as she waited for any sort a response. What she got was only to be expected.
"Are you insane?" Jackson raised his voice, the folder gripped tightly in his hand as he struggled to restrain himself. "This is the Prime Minster, you are talking about! The Organization hasn't hit the major political leaders in years, and now you expect…?"
If her glare wasn't enough to stop him her words were.
"You are forgetting yourself, Mr. Donovan," Ellen Briggs snapped with agitation as she rose to her feet, hands on the desk. Her slight stature did nothing to take away from her presence. "I have tolerated your little dramatic escapade with this Reisert girl. Despite the Keefe loss I cannot forget the service you have provided, but I will not accept this sort of reproach as to my authority or the assignment to which I am entrusting you."
"Entrusting…," he remarked with clenched teeth. "That's a rich sentiment."
"It's forgiving." She let the term settle. Angry as he was, there was only so much she would allow from him.
"We have taken a loss both in men and resources due to this fuck-up," The woman continued angrily. "We are trying to hold the world together as usual, Mr. Donovan. I'm certain I don't need to remind you. A select few decided to play god and we must take out place at the right hand."
She had his attention and she took the opportunity to lower her voice. There were always other ears.
"We've never been in a position quite so opportune as this and to be perfectly honest I wouldn't be confiding this to the rest of the stragglers we've retained. You know personally the consequences of failure and I believe you are the most sensible choice to handle it. You're an asset, Mr. Donovan."
He couldn't resist the sneer, "And you're trying to appease me…"
"I'm trying to make you listen to reason before you screw things up for the both of us. We can't afford to lose your service and are quite prepared to go through whatever means necessary to keep it."
Leese, he was certain. And Hannah. He had known it before ever setting foot in the building but it was strange to hear it from her lips. It seemed so much more concrete. His line of sight focused on the rough material on the floor, reds entwined with gold and black patterns that reminded him of a small hotel in Morocco.
"I won't have any say in the matter, I assume."
"Of course not. We are still your deity," there was amusement in her voice. "Can't have those around us questioning that notion."
Jackson made a point to avoid her gaze, scanning the details some more but his focus only allowed a meager registration.
"She is awake. I thought you'd like to know."
He wasn't surprised, even when she put her mobile on the table for effect. "I'm sure I don't have to spell out those details for you. One move, James, and I make the call."
Jackson closed the folder, "I appreciate your faith in me, but you know damn well I won't be able to pull this off. Especially with that sort of timeframe."
"Even for the price of your freedom?" She had said those words once before. The second time seemed much less surreal but the danger a hundred fold. He shot her a glare that warned against dangling bait.
"I suppose everything happens for a reason. I offered you this chance once before and I doubt Harry of all people will be pleased about my decision in bending the rules for this one. But even he can't deny my justification."
Jackson never liked being indebted and tried to hold back his complaint, "I appreciate it, Ellen."
She smiled in a way that almost made her appear soft, had he not known better. "Always my pleasure, I'm sure."
The woman took her seat again, settling back into the leather with a motion for him to follow. This time he accepted the offer and sat down. Yet something still crawled under his skin that he couldn't quite reach.
"Why keep me in the coma?"
Her chin raised and her expression was every bit confused, "I beg your pardon?"
"I should have been either dead or in recovery. We both know those wounds weren't serious enough to keep me unconscious. It doesn't seem like you to keep me around without reason and no one could have predicted the outbreak's timely entrance."
"You are right, it isn't like me." The words trailed off as she took it into consideration and he met her eyes with a tilt of the head. "A dead man can't give me answers, James. But neither can an incapacitated one. I had a hard enough time tracking you down when we learned you had been moved out of the country."
She really hadn't known?
"But enough talk about the past." The subject was changed and she handed him the pamphlets across the table as he had suspected. "Here are your tickets. The girl should be well enough to travel by the week's end, at least to get back into her own country. I'd suggest keeping her out of the fire."
It seemed so simple: one moment waking up to the sounds of a vacated city with the devil at your heels and the next on a flight into the very flames he expected to find waiting in the States. It was drastic, the differences between the two, but he wondered if either one was better than the other.
"Just like that?"
"No, in fact those were hell to get arranged. I would like to emphasize the opportunity. Without that Reisert girl being brought alive it would have been much more difficult to get you into the States. They've closed the borders indefinitely it would seem. Or at least until signs of this infection are altogether vanished which is in effect the same outcome from the sounds of things." They might as well have put up a sign telling the rest of us to fuck off for all the good it will do. The only people they are letting in are displaced citizens and with her connections…"
Any excuse… "I'm sure they've seen my face…"
"Where?" He didn't appreciate the tone of voice as she answered. "You handled the airport security from the beginning. We took care of everything after."
"Except you couldn't fucking notice that I was gone," Jackson remarked irritably.
"Language, James. Regretfully, some things can never be predicted."
Jackson examined the tickets in his hand. He flipped the first open, finding it complete with ID's, passports, all the necessities and luxuries he could have asked for. One…two…there were four.
Ellen noticed his hesitation. "You are to take Keplan."
His head snapped up, jaw tense. "I haven't had a partner in over five years."
"What you do with him is your concern. But now that you mention it, making him your partner might do you some good."
Conniving, Jackson couldn't help but think as he saw the smile come back to her eyes.
"You'd almost think you don't trust the man, even after your time together. If it wasn't for him you'd still be back in Manchester."
Jackson folded up the papers again, resting them easily on his lap as he leaned back. The chair was just as uncomfortable as it looked. "If anything that makes me trust him less."
"Good. I'm glad to see this woman hasn't made you lose all your senses." The conversation was nearly over, her posture was enough to give away that much. Her voice dropped quietly. "Keep Keplan close."
"This is an impossible assignment," he remarked as Ellen finalized her intention by standing and starting towards the doorway.
"Yes, James. But it's always been your job to figure out a way to make it work." She lingered, eyeing him over as he got to his feet, measuring, and didn't seem pleased with what she saw.
"There's a credit card in there. Go find yourself some clothes."
++&&&&++
Lisa winced as her body protested the movement. They had told her to relax (some in better English than others) but after everything they had been through it was hard to follow the order.
Hannah was there, sitting on the well-worn chair at her side, but Lisa couldn't help but notice the missing person. There was that trying conflict between her head and her heart; one couldn't figure out why he wasn't there, the other wondering why she should care in the first place.
You know perfectly well why.
Hannah seemed to notice her doubt despite her attempt of cover, "Jim said he'd be coming back."
The look in his eyes when she fell… "He didn't say where he was going?"
"No, that soldier came for him. The one from…"
"Keplan," Lisa interrupted, knowing perfectly well which one. The game wasn't over yet.
Her lips were dry and Lisa spotted the cup of water at her side. She tried to ignore the IV as she reached for it. She had seen blood, the tearing of limbs, watched as infected ripped a screaming human being to pieces, but she still got queasy at the sight of liquid flowing into her punctured skin.
"Did you know him? Jim I mean," Hannah asked as she moved the tray closer so that Lisa could reach. "Before the infection."
Lisa smiled in thanks, taking the cup and staring into the clear liquid. Everything about him had been so clear once. He was the 'bad man' in the situation. It had been his call that decided whether her dad was to live or die. Jackson was the one turning her life to shit…
We're both professionals. We have the means and the will to follow through and if we don't our customers aren't happy, and when they're not we suffer and our lives go to shit…
His words echoed painfully.
"I wouldn't exactly say I knew him, but we had met before." Lisa took a sip. There was a slight tremble in her fingers as she brought the cup back down.
There were no stitches and her skin was beginning to itch. It was a good sign that it was healing as intended, but it would only be a matter of time before the itch turned to an ache and she would get another dose of pain killers.
"…in Miami."
"Is that where you're from?"
The question took her a little by surprise. Lisa hadn't really thought about simple things like 'where she was from' as being interesting topics of the moment. But the girl was eager for an answer, probably bored out of her mind.
Lisa knew what it was like to have too much time to think.
And they really hadn't talked. Not about family, not about background, not about favorite colors or first kisses or nail polish. Lisa almost laughed as the last thought trailed through her imagination.
"Yeah, living in sunshine," she mused. All those stresses of a menial day at the hotel seemed like a walk in the park.
Speaking of which, she was already growing tired of being kept up in bed, but the doctors were adamant on keeping her for observation.
"You never really appreciate it until it's gone."
"I've always wanted to visit the States. But my dad…" Hannah swallowed but didn't look away. There was an intake before she continued with a forcefully steady voice. "Well, we never really had the money."
There were 'what-ifs' running through the girl's mind, Lisa was certain. In a way, she was glad the man never saw the chaos that happened in that mansion. He really didn't suffer long, all things considered.
Suffer long…it sounded cold even in her thoughts.
But they were alright now, at least from the infected. And if France was free… "Is it there? The infection, has it crossed over?"
"No," Hannah answered quickly, leaning forward to put her elbows on her knees. "All over the news they are saying it's being kept in Great Britain. Nothing's crossed over the water."
Relief flooded and Lisa hadn't realized how much her body had tensed waiting for the reply. So many nights of hopelessness and pushing her emotions away…
Lisa brought a hand to her mouth, trembling, as her eyes watered. Hannah took the cup away and Lisa choked back a sob.
They were okay. She smiled, choking back the tears. Her family was okay and life at home was continuing as normal. She had refused to let herself expect anything, too many fears of being crushed. But now…
"Then they have to let me home. My dad…"She looked back to Hannah and had forgotten just for that moment. Lisa quickly bit her tongue as the girl forced a smile. She needed to ask, "Will you come with me? We can take you to see everything. New York, the Grand Canyon… Disney World."
It suddenly seemed very important. All those things she had always taken for granted, even complained about when reminiscing childhood trips. But now they seemed like such pleasant dreams and the teen's eyes smiled back.
"Disney World?" Hannah questioned skeptically.
Lisa smiled. "Don't knock it. I still loved it and I'm..." She paused trying not to remind herself of her age. "…a lot older than you and I'll just leave it at that."
Hannah's smile faded and she looked away, down at her closed hands. "I guess I really don't have anywhere else to be. No home at least."
Lisa reached out to take her arm and the girl looked back up.
"Yes, you do."
++&&&&++