Chapter 37

The engagement picture shoot with the two lieutenants, Chrissy and Sean, went off without a hitch. Jamie thanked them for being so easy to work with, told them the proofs would be ready at Bob's studio in about a week, and told them that they'd be dealing with Myrna about ordering.

"We're getting married over Labor Day weekend at the Main Post Chapel at Fort Riley, Kansas," Chrissy said. "We were going to book a photographer from Manhattan, Kansas, or maybe Topeka, but we really like you. Could you give us a quote on what it would cost for you to shoot the wedding? I'm assigned to Fort Carson, Colorado, but Sean's at Fort Riley and my dad retired from the army and works civil service there. My parents own a farm just south of Junction City."

"Me, specifically, or just someone from the studio?"

"You, specifically."

"Then there's something you should know, something I can tell you only because as army officers you have security clearances. The photography studio is a cover. My real name is James King and I'm an agent with the Federal Counterintelligence Agency, FCA. I just learned today that there's a job opening for a surveillance photographer in our Kansas City, Missouri, office and I'm considering taking it. If I take it, I can still shoot your wedding, but I'll be doing it on my own time as a private contractor. I can work up an estimate and get it to you within the next couple of weeks, though; I'll know by the end of this week if I'll be taking the job."

He reached into his wallet and, from a hidden pocket, took out one of his FCA business cards. "My mobile number is on there, and it's a government -issued phone, so it won't change."

"This is a D.C. area code, not a New York one," Sean said.

"Yes. Like I said, it doesn't change. I'll get your contact information from Myrna, Chrissy, and I'll be in touch."

"Great. Thanks again, Jim.

"We really hope you can work it out so you can do our wedding, Jim," Chrissy said. "Even if you can't photograph it, we want you to be there for our big day. I'll send you an invitation, and of course you can bring a date. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Her name is Abigail Kozal. She's a senior at University of Nebraska -Lincoln," Jamie said.

"A Cornhusker. Well, if she's going to be in Lincoln, you'd be crazy not to take the job in KCMO," Chrissy said. "How long have you been dating?"

"I met her on Wednesday when she ran away from some creep that had attacked her in a park in Arlington. I was out walking with my brother and his girl when she screamed and came running out the woods and straight into my arms."

"Oh, my God, that is so romantic! Did you catch the creep?"

"No, but the police are working on it. My brother is on staff at the Thornton Foundation, where she's a summer intern, and he recognized her, of course. She was pretty shaken up, so Phillip, Kendra - who just passed her initial qualifications for the FCA, by the way – and I offered to take her home. Well, it turns out her roommates were using pot, and they'd even left a pan of pot brownies right out on the kitchen counter. My stepfather, Lee Stetson, is head of field operations for the FCA in D. C. , so we called him and asked him to come over and help. He and I bagged the pot brownies for evidence and then we packed Abby up and got her out of there that night; she's living in my parents' basement now. My mom's in charge of new agent recruitment for the Agency."

"Three agents in your family? Wow," Chrissy said. "I'm so glad you got her out of that mess. Do you really have to go, Jim? We'd love to take you out to eat at our favorite pizza place just over the mountain in Vail's Gate."

"I'm sorry, I have to. I'm doing a big Italian wedding tomorrow, and it's an all-day and probably all-night gig. For these jobs, I start off in jeans and a golf shirt for the casual shots – you know, the bride and the bridesmaids coming out of the hair salon, the groom's party getting in a round of golf - and change into a tux for the ceremony and the reception. If I get into bed by three Sunday morning, I'll be lucky."

"Sure, I understand. Well, it was great talking to you, and we sure hope you and Abby can come to the wedding. Can I give you a hug to give Abby for me? Sean doesn't mind."

"Sure."

She hugged him and said, "You be sure and give her that and tell her that we're glad that you were there when that creep attacked her."

"I will." Jamie and Sean shook hands, Jamie got into his car, and as he drove away, he heard Chrissy say, "Bring her to the wedding so I can throw her the bouquet!"

The two and a half hours Jamie had spent at West Point meant that he got back to New York City at the height of the Friday evening rush hour. As he inched along in traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway toward the apartment he'd rented since he was a student at Pratt Institute, he thought, "The traffic in Kansas City can't possibly be any worse than this."

He finally got home, only to find that the nearest parking space was almost a block away from his building. Carefully, he eased the car into the space with inches to spare both front and rear, set the anti-theft device across the steering wheel, and got out of the car. He slung his camera bag over his shoulder and started for the apartment building. He was almost there when the car alarm on his BMW went off.

Muttering several phrases that would have had Abby telling him to watch his language, he sprinted back toward the car, camera bags bouncing on his shoulders.

"You, get away from my car!" he shouted. The would-be thieves, a couple of kids no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, looked up in surprise and took off. Jamie thought about trying to chase them down, but he was too tired.

"Definitely been living in New York too long," he thought wearily. He trudged back to his building, let himself in, and after a visit to the bathroom, came back to get himself a beer out of the refrigerator, only to discover that it had stopped working while he was gone and that what little food he had left inside was now spoiled and the beer was warm. He found a trash bag, dumped all the spoiled food into it, and carried it out to the communal dumpster, grumbling all the way. "New York, if you wanted to send me a message and tell me to leave, it came through loud and clear," he said.

The phone on his belt rang. He flipped it open, recognized Bob Bukowski's number and accepted the call. "Hello, Bob. I'm back, the traffic was hellish, the fridge in my apartment is on the fritz, all my food is spoiled, and the damned beer is warm!" he groused. "I have definitely been in New York too long."

Bob chuckled. "A sign from the universe that you need to take that job in KC, J-Man?"

"I'm starting to think so."

"Throw a few things into a bag; you can spend the night here. Myrn will make sure you don't starve, and I've got plenty of cold beer. Unless you want to just go home, that is, once Myrn feeds you and you get a few hours of sleep. I can cover the Buccigrossi wedding. If you leave, I'll be dealing with them on the final orders anyway, so I might as well do the shoot itself."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Sure, why not? You bailed me out today, I'll bail you out tomorrow. One good turn and all that. Pack up your troubles and your suitcase and come over here, James; you can be in your sweet baby's arms by breakfast time tomorrow if you want."