Title:  Thanksgiving

Rating:  Same

Author: Madame Hausfrau

Legal:  Same

Chapter 2 

Vorshlag Industries stood helpless- its rapid blood loss acutely evident as its precious human resource volume steadily bled onto the crowded streets below.  The many corridors, already darkened and silent, reluctantly swept remaining employees toward groaning elevators and thundering stairwells. Each  person ran for the front entrances in droves - the proverbial border; rushing off  to further plan, shop and prepare for upcoming festivities.  The only hangers–on included temporary staff, die-hard workaholics, non-celebrants, those without families, and one resident dragon. 

Well ensconced within the confines of his modestly furnished office, said dragon could be found completing his annual Security Report for Vorshlag Industries.  Covering the obligatory SOP, employee bios, patents, patents pending and highly guarded research updates on various bio-medical projects, Ian's North American snapshot gave Irons the ability to comparatively gauge Vorshlag's physical security measures with those implemented globally.  Expertly navigating through an Excel program, Ian created graphs, charts and finally a Powerpoint presentation.

Nearing the finish line, Ian typed with increased fervor; his long, tapered fingers dancing along the PC keyboard with precise, steady movements.  The rudimentary clicking, an electronic concerto, provided music amid a most welcome silence.  This very quest for solitude made foregoing the jump into Irons' clerical pool quite easy.  A final tap signaled the end as he happily laid this critical report to rest.    

Whistling with relief, Ian pushed away from his desk and glanced out the large curtained window, his thoughts his own.  Glancing at the time, he had over thirty minutes before his appointment.  Further collecting his thoughts, Ian shut down his office, deposited the hard-copy documents into Irons' office safe and promptly left the building.  Unbeknownst to Irons, his laundry list was prematurely completed by several days.  Ian now worked his own.  Enroute to his destination, Ian set his covert plan to motion, placing a few important calls -all decidedly one way:

"Hello, Cassie, about the detailed matter discussed earlier, please proceed as planned to include my detailed specifics. Happy Holidays to you and yours…"

"Recordings…recordings…" Ian whispered softly as he auto-dialed his next contact.

"Hello, Sheridan, Ian smiled into his phone. "It's me again. This mission's a go, drive on as ordered and all inquiries are extremely classified. Happy Holidays."

"That's affirm, Mr. Nottingham, same to you."  With that, she broke transmission.

"Roger that." Ian breathed as he steered his sleek black Jaguar around a sharp corner and onto a remote service road, dialing again when safe. 

"Hello, Mr. Johansen, this is Mr. Nottingham.  Listen, about that favor ……………………….."

********************************* 

Ian's demeanor instantly sobered as he reached his appointed destination, a remote, nondescript watering hole.  Circling and observing the immediate perimeter, he parked a block away and walked into the tavern, eyes alert and roving.  Immediately locking onto his target, Ian advanced warily as his summoner slowly stood.  The pair openly regarded each other for long moments, struggling for composure as warring emotions vied for dominance across their expressive faces.

Realizing they each were bit pawns fighting within an arena of circumstances, not of their making nor control, the pair finally shook hands - sharing a crushing embrace as each heartily thumped the other's back.  Snagging a nearly waitress, the pair ordered draft beers and shot several rounds of pool.  Further settling down to chips & salsa – they talked for hours.

Much later, Ian rose and stretched to depart for other errands, noting the growing darkness and tangible drop in temperature.  Ian quizzed his summoner for the last time, filled with mirth as his lucky streak held fast.  In a relaxed mood, the summoner occasionally smiled while responding to Ian's quizzing and demand for penance, which was warmly agreed to, if within reason.  Questions asked and answered, Ian smiled, passed his summoner an envelope marked "Penance," and left with a polite nod.  The envelope was soon opened to reveal a detailed list of instructions, directions, and generous funds to cover everything asked for…including gas / incidentals.  Beaming at Nottingham's thoughtfulness, the summoner studied the given tasks, bundled up against the cold, then departed.

Once again within the confines of his idling car, Nottingham mused over the last few hours …'That went extremely well.'   Suddenly, he repeated a call only to be met again with a busy signal.  "Oh, well…." Ian grinned mischievously as he pulled away from the curve and towards the distant expressway.

*************************

Gabriel Bowman was an extremely happy camper.  Having just cataloged Talismaniac's entire shop inventory to CD, Godsmak's, 'Stand Alone', loudly heralded his latest acquisition of two Romanov Faberge' Eggs.

Closed all-day, a sudden knock at the door gave him pause. Turning his stereo down, Gabe opened the door and visibly blanched, nearly wetting his pants as he gazed upon the face he dread most.  Sensing the younger man's visible alarm, Ian smoothly assumed a servile posture and proceeded to play his decidedly paltry hand - against this important, pivotal house of cards:

"Mr. Bowman, a moment of your time if I may," Nottingham inquired with polite and quiet seriousness.

Thoroughly shocked, Gabriel's mind ran a mile a minute as he thought, 'Holy shit, Nottingham's asking for my time…this must be deep!'

"Nottingham!"  Gabriel said, willing himself to be hospitable and not stammer, "Please, come in." and further gestured his worst nightmare, inside the shop.

"Mr. Bowman," Ian began.  "Please," Gabe interrupted, "Call me Gabriel."  With that, Ian laid his cards on the table with a fervent prayer:

"Gabriel, are you busy for the next two days or otherwise engaged?"  Ian asked with rapid-fire directness…hoping against hope with baited breath. 

"Well," Gabriel started warily, " I volunteer at the mission tomorrow for a few hours…besides that, I've no plans and am quite game."

Ian glanced at the ceiling, arms akimbo, digesting the welcome information with relish- mentally thanking heaven for his royal flush.

"Good!" Ian said, before quickly adding instructions, "Grab a nice outfit, personal gear, shave kit, work clothes and follow me. You've 15 minutes. Go!"     

Thoroughly puzzled and too scared to demand answers, Gabriel jetted off to make his allotted time….'Remember those days…' Ian smiled to himself as he filtered through Gabe's CD collection and carefully examined several acquisitions of interest, while bobbing his head to Disturb's 'Prayer', as it raged throughout the eclectic shop.  Quickly returning, Gabe pronounced himself ready, valise in tow.  Ian watched as Gabe flicked off lights and activated the intricate alarm system.  Fully secured, both men left the store, braving the brisk night air to shortly arrive at Ian's car.

Apprehension and curiosity at a fever pitch, Gabriel asked the million-dollar question, "Um, Nottingham………what gives?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, Ian voiced his thoughts: "Sara's having Thanksgiving…"

Stunned, Gabe blurted the first thing that came to his mind, "Sara's cooking?" still staring at Ian, mouth agape and incredulous.   

"Lady Sara," Ian explained, "is having dinner at her place. She just doesn't.… know it yet.  Yes, it's presumptuous on my part, but I think being around friends and ....acquaintances would do her good- especially during the holidays," he reasoned.  "You understand, don't you? " Ian said, looking at his passenger.

"Indeed I do." Gabriel nodded, carefully studying Ian for as long as he dared, but not before developing a multi-leveled, ocean-deep respect in the process.  

"You know, Nottingham," Gabe confessed, "For a dragon, you're not such a total badass after all……just one with a heart of gold."

Nottingham closed his eyes and absorbed the sincere compliment with a few thoughtful nods... 'On a good day, young Bowman,…only on a good day.'

"Nice Jag." Gabriel noted, surveying the plush leather interior as Ian smoothly stopped at an empty intersection, noting the not-too-silent challenge of an engine-gunning motorist the next lane over.  Accepting, Ian shifted expertly and floored his accelerator when the light changed, the sudden launch nearly sending Gabe's head out the back window.  Challenger faithfully at his side, Ian impulsively cut in front and shifted again, grazing another empty intersection just as the light turned red for his opponent, watching as Nottingham victoriously sped off into the dark distance - fast and furious.

Quickly downshifting to normal parameters, Ian drove as if nothing took place moments before.  Gabriel however, immediately took on a kid brother stance and admonished Ian by playfully bellowing: "OOOOOH, I'M GONNA TELL  MAMA!!"  Gabe was instantly gifted with Nottingham's roaring laughter, so much so, Ian ended up pulling over where he further collapsed and dissolved into the steering wheel.  Shocked at having invoked such a response, Gabe thought of the irony.  'Who on earth would believe that Ian Nottingham, world class assassin and  bodyguardish soldier-of-fortune,  would be sitting in his car cracking-the-hell up like a  comedian.'  Ian's dormant laughter was so repressed and genuine, Gabe couldn't help but join in, losing it totally on short order. 

Moments later, thoroughly composed yet embarrassed, Ian apologized profusely, "I'm sorry….that doesn't occur very often."

"So I gathered." Gabe nodded seriously, before giggling maniacally, taking Ian with him yet again.        

I*********************

Across town, the 37th Precinct was abuzz with activity as the holiday season began its kick-off, quickly taking on festive, decorative shape.

"Well, my cab's here.  Pez, you behave yourselves while I'm gone," said Jake.  "You brave this NY cold alone if you want to- California's the place to be!….

Just think, I'll come back all rested with a righteous tan, all bronzed and tawny."…………………….'And a legend in your own mind.' Sara thought.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, McCartey, just rub it in why don't you."  Sara quipped, nursing her third cup of coffee that morning. "Don't you have a plane to catch?"

Sara Pezzini woke-up this Tuesday morning in the foulest of moods.  She dreaded the holidays and resolved to work through them all.  On edge, she playfully mussed Jake's spiky hair while quickly ushering him out the door, craving a moment's solitude from the abysmal riptide that threatened to drag her under.  She found herself not wanting to surface from this all encompassing aloneness- it was her friend. 'Jeez, if this is just Tuesday, what's on tap for Thursday?'

Sara ventured to herself, 'Work…work…work!  That's the ticket to saving my sanity.'  Wistfully, she thought of her chat with Danny only hours earlier:

"Pez, this is hard for me……God knows I'd love to have you over for Thanksgiving, but Lee wouldn't feel………Pez, you understand, don't you?"

Danny gave Sara a pleading look, imploring her to understand his helpless situation.  Sara wistfully smiled at her friend and partner of many years:

"Danny," Sara smiled, "It's ok. I understand completely," placing her hands on his suddenly stooped shoulders with a firm shake. "Do me a favor."

"Anything, Pez.  Name it."  Danny offered.  With a sigh, Sara looked at him with all seriousness and resolve and said simply:  "Go home, Danny.  Go home to your family and friends who love you.  Hug them tight and be thankful for everything- the past, present and future. Do that for me, partner."   

With a nod, Danny croaked, "I will Pez, and take care," Danny whispered.  The duo cheerfully grinned again before hugging goodbye…………… 

************

"Hello, Ma'am, I'm looking for a Ms. Sara Pezzini.

The woman in question looked up from her window reverie to see a handsome gentleman dressed in a dark, snow-flaked wool overcoat.

 "You're looking at her,"  Sara said as she waived him into the office. "Please sign here," The man requested.  Non-social and somewhat puzzled, Sara obeyed. 

With a shy smile and reverent bow, he quietly disappeared.  Sara glanced at the unassuming envelope, tossing it onto her desk where it quickly dissolved amongst a sea of surrounding papers.  Sara embraced Tuesday and her self-imposed holiday workload like a long lost lover, determined to remain emotionally numb until Thursday evening, 11:59 p.m.          

"Sara!" a voice excitedly squeaked, "SARA!" 

Thoroughly irritated at being disturbed again, Pez ground out a guttural "WHAT?"

Sublimely unfazed, Vicki Po did a happy-dance while waving a sheet of paper in the air. 

"Yes?" Sara's voice politely dripped venom as she placed yet another case file in her slowly growing "closed" pile.      

 Knowledgeable of Sara's plight but undaunted, Vicki politely explained, "Some gorgeous courier just dropped this off…" 

"You too?" Sara inquired with disinterest.  

"I got his number but we have a date."  A smiling Vicki said, smiling while pointing in Sara's direction. 

"Sorry, girlfriend, not interested," Sara moped before adding, "I love you Vic but please turn around and disappear until Friday."

"Oh no, my turkey flavored grinch, we've a date," Po rallied, "I just received generous gift certificates from Victoria's Secret and Ann Taylor- they expire today!"

Sara fished her missive from her pile and opened it.  Nonplussed but intrigued, she waived matching coupons at Vicki, "Yeah, I guess…we do."  

*************************

Within the warm interior of Vicki's late-model Toyota, Sara glumly realized her agenda was shot.  Destroyed were her plans of working, hitting the gym and jogging home, to shower, leftover take-out and sleep.  For a split second, Sara regretted the decision of placing her Buell in winter storage.  Uncomfortable   with dependency of any kind, and craving space, she quickly formulated a plan by saying:

"Ya know, Vic, after this 'shopping spree,' I'll catch a cab back to the office and close up some more case files.  I'm sure you'll be busy running errands and stuff before Thursday.  I don't wish to hold you up."  Sara ventured, shocked at her suddenly curiosity of Vicki's holiday plans.

A humming Vicki stepped in, "Truth be told, Sara, I don't have any plans since the bulk of my family gathers every other year in Ontario.  I'm officially off until

Friday and plan to quietly celebrate at a restaurant somewhere."  Unable to resist she added, "What about you Sara, care to join me?"

"I plan on working through Wednesday and spending a quiet Thanksgiving at home; alone, asleep and quite possibly drunk," Sara offered. 

Seriously? Vicki inquired.

Sara confirmed her question with a determined "Uh-huh."

"Hmmmmmmm, ok." Vicki sighed as she looked for a parking spot in Bloomingdale's cavernous garage.

************************

Locking up, the pair quickly ran the gauntlet of harried shoppers as they entered the flagship store.  Sara noted the cheery but rampant holiday décor as she kept pace with Vicki's long, enthusiastic strides, bravely swallowing the urge to chicken and bow out.  Reaching their destination, Vicki suddenly chortled:

"Oh Sara, look…" Vicki said, patting Sara's shoulder, "I'm in heaven!  Please pinch me, I must be dreaming." she further gushed. Gleefully, Sara fastened her fingers to Vicki's arm and obeyed with vicious pleasure.  Courier aside, Sara thought it apt punishment for being dragged here in the first place – until she finally looked up.  Suddenly, she felt game, remembering a quote somewhere about presentation being everything.

With a Pied Piper's cunning, the Victoria's Secret glass storefront expertly beckoned potential shoppers much like flies to honey, its window mannequins tastefully showcased the latest in soft, sensual, intimate apparel.  Inside, Vicki and Sara spied traditional functionals, a wide variety of loungewear, and specialty foundations designed to both flatter ones figure and outfit.  For the more daring consumer, racks of thongs, stockings and nocturnal unmentionables lay before all in enticing arrays.  The air-assault of signature fragrances, bath oils, lotions and perfumes provided scentual wars as customers mock-modeled romantic lingerie, marveling their soft look and feel.  Caught up in the reverie, the duo browsed, perused, sampled and selected to their hearts content.  Mindful of the time, they presented their selections at the register, collected their goodies and left.

"Feeling better?" A knowing Vicki inquired, sorely relieved to finally see Sara grunt slightly, her mood elevating by millimeters.  Expertly navigating her way around, Vicki now steered her gloomy, anti-holiday friend and colleague through the ever growing throngs of shoppers to safely arrive at their next destination.   

Inside, they were met with an attentively polite wait staff.  Known for her clean, elegantly crisp lines and realistic styles, Ann Taylor was the discriminating shopper's friend.  Sara, mostly a wash-and-wear kind of girl, tried on several versatile outfits before choosing a few she liked.  Both dressy and casually chic,

the ensembles softly flattered Sara's figure, accentuating her curves.  Not one for handbags, she settled on a glock-friendly cocktail purse, pashima wool wraps, gossamer silk scarves and a warm, dressy cashmere coat/hat/glove set.  Vicki, always possessing an eye for fashion, effortlessly selected several high-end outfits and accessories that seemingly draped her equally lush curves with abandon.  As a State Medical Examiner for New York, Vicki wanted her off-duty apparel to celebrate life, freedom, independence and a spirited confidence.

Presenting their certificates at the register, the women were happy, tired, sore and dreading the burdensome return trip to Vicki's car.  Silently thanking their mysterious benefactor, the duo possessively stared at their hoard of newly acquired booty; extremely pleased with having selected, throughout the day, apparel that reflected their personal tastes and comfort level.   With an imperceptible nod of her auburn-hued head, Cassie Wentworth set off but one carefully orchestrated chain of events. Out of nowhere, two dark suited gentlemen appeared and addressed themselves to the unsuspecting pair with polite seriousness:

"Good afternoon, Ms. Pezzini, Ms. Po," The taller man acknowledged, whipping out his ID for Sara and Vicki's close perusal.  "My name is Mr. Johansen and this is my associate, Mr. Bellini." he gestured.  Bellini politely nodded his head in greeting, "Ladies," he addressed before smartly presenting his ID as well.

Her curiosity piqued, Sara inquired, "Gentlemen, what's all this about?  Is anything the matter?"  With that prompt, each man handed the women personalized letters and distanced themselves, providing the women with privacy as they each examined the embellished, official-looking documents- patiently waiting for the enclosed information to sink in…………... 

Speechless, Vicki suddenly yelped and held an embarrassed, shaking hand over her mouth, desperately staring at the men for some kind of clarification.  Sara Puzzling simply stared at the men with a NYC detective's candor and said, "C'mon and cut the bull guys, you've GOT to be kidding!"…………

*********This marks the end of Chapter 2.  Please review and let me know what you think.  I'm working on Chapter 3.