CHAPTER 2
Everything had gone like a dream. Their suspect had no idea that the FBI had tracked him to his hideaway; that they would even be able to track him through several name changes to his new life in Miami. He was arrested after a slight stand off and long chase, and broke down and confessed to the triple murders in Atlanta. Even Bailey was surprised at the successful conclusion to the case, and was pleased enough to provide a decent dinner for his team at the up market restaurant near to the hotel in which they were staying.
Rachel was pleasantly surprised at having the afternoon off, and being able to wander around and do some sightseeing, while John, who had ended up chasing the suspect around the streets for a couple of kilometers, relaxed in the hotel swimming pool, deepening his tan, and swimming laps. George and Bailey both lazed by the side of the pool, watching John swimming up and down, doing perfect racing turns.
"He makes me tired, just watching him," said George idly and Bailey smiled. "He certainly likes to keep himself fit," he said. "Luckily for us, I wouldn't have been able to chase down that guy this afternoon."
"Me either," said George with a self-conscious laugh. "But it's nice to be able to relax for a little while. And nice that we can stay here tonight and not have to rush back."
"Well the bureau can foot the bill for this," said Bailey. "It's not much, but the team deserves an afternoon off. We have worked bloody hard lately, and had some good successes."
John walked up, rubbing his hair with a towel, his body glistening with water.
"The water's great, why don't you guys swim?" he asked, sitting down on the lounge next to Bailey.
"We'll leave that for you," replied George, indicating his drink. "Do you want one?" He dragged his eyes from John's body reluctantly, they were long time friends and he was a little dismayed to find that John's near nakedness was still quite overpowering. John was superbly fit, his muscles well defined, he looked extremely good standing there dripping.
"Yeah, I'll have a beer," said John, lying back on his towel, unaware of George's inner turmoil. "What time are we meeting for dinner?"
"About 7," replied Bailey. "Time for a shower and shave – the restaurant is fairly formal I hope you both brought decent clothes with you. Otherwise they might not let us in."
John raised an eyebrow. "I only have decent clothes," he said indignantly.
They were escorted to their table by a very superior looking waiter, who led them across the hushed room, and reverently pointed out their round table, and held out the chair for Rachel, acting as if he were conferring a great favor upon her.
The restaurant was packed, and their table seemed to be drawing a lot of attention, with one group of people in particular, turning to look at the VCTF team as they took their seats.
Bailey had ordered champagne to be served with the meal, and they toasted their success. It was an enjoyable meal, and by the time dessert was served, they were all feeling relaxed and happy. John was sitting between Rachel and George, and telling them all sorts of crude jokes, and they were both laughing at his antics, when suddenly a very striking looking blonde woman marched up to the table, and stood glaring at him.
"How dare you do this to me, Christian!" she spat in absolute fury. "I cannot believe even you would stoop to this level! You asshole!"
The VCTF team all turned to look at her, she was looming over John, sparks flying from her eyes. She was literally shaking with anger. He blinked up at her and she continued on with her tirade.
"Everybody told me not to get involved with you, but I couldn't help myself. What they said is true, you are just a jerk!"
John still stared at the woman, unable to form a coherent thought in the face of her very loud accusations, color seeping into his cheeks. People began turning around in their chairs, to watch what was unfolding.
"You think you are God's gift, don't you. Well let me tell you, Dr. Troy, you are scum. You enjoy hurting women, you are a piece of shit!"
Bailey half rose to his feet, putting down his glass. "Now look here, young lady, I don't think…" but she cut him off.
"Who ever you are, this is none of your business," she snapped at him. Her eyes wandered over to Rachel who was also staring at her out of wide eyes. "I suppose he has spoken his honeyed lies to you as well. Let me be the one to warn you, don't believe anything he says. All he wants is to get into your pants. And he will throw you away like garbage when he's finished. Don't be another notch on his headboard. His looks and performance aren't worth the heartache, trust me."
Rachel swallowed and opened her mouth to reply, but the blonde was off again.
"He is a serial liar, and not that great a doctor, either!"
John stood up abruptly, conscious of the quietness of the diners around them, who had abandoned all attempts to pretend not to listen.
"Just a minute," he said, "I have no idea what you are talking about, but I don't know you…"
"Oh please Christian, do you really think for one moment that pathetic excuse is going to hold water? I thought if anything, you would be more creative with your lies. You asshole! And it looks to me like you have been having too much botox! It's about time you acted your age, even if you can't bear to look it!"
"My name is John Grant, and I have absolutely no…"
The blonde cut him off again. "John? Couldn't you come up with a more original name than John? To call off our date, when I had arranged for you to meet my friends and my agent was bad enough. But then to come here, in front of everyone I know, and ignore me – to turn up with these people and look straight through me like you don't know who I am, well that is the lowest thing you could do. Did you deliberately set out to make a fool of me? They told me you could be cruel, Christian, but even I didn't think you would be this low. Scum!"
Bailey walked around the table, and took out his FBI identification.
"My name is Bailey Malone," he said. "I understand that you are upset, Madam, but the agent to whom you are speaking, is not who you think he is."
"Bullshit," she snapped back. "What now, are you pretending to be a cop or something? Please!" and she continued to glare at John. "This man is an imposter," she said to Bailey. "His name is Christian Troy, and he is a surgeon here in Miami."
John rolled his eyes towards Rachel in mute appeal. "My name is Jo…"
"I am not deaf, I heard your pathetic lie the first time," she yelled, swinging around on her heel. "I'm going, you won't see me again. Asshole!" and she strode off, leaving everyone in the restaurant looking at John with degrees of sympathy or disgust, mostly disgust.
John sat back down, feeling heat and colour seeping into his face, staring down at the table in embarrassment, conscious of the stares of the people around them. George, who hadn't spoken the whole time, leaned forward.
"I didn't know you were a doctor," he said, and the rest of the team began to laugh.
"Well of course I am going to leave a really good paying job, like a surgeon, to be a lowly paid FBI agent," said John, slowly regaining his equanimity. "She was certainly upset, whoever she was. Is everyone still staring at me?"
"Yes still staring," said Rachel. "Whoever this Christian guy is, he's made an enemy, that's for sure. I thought she was going to hit you John."
"Yes, so did I," he replied. "She was one scary female. I feel sorry for the guy. Hell, I feel sorry for me."
George laughed and patted him on the arm. "We'll protect you," he said soothingly.
"I don't think I've ever been called an asshole four times in one night by the same person before," he went on to say. "I wonder who this Christian is? I wonder how much he looks like me?"
"Surely there couldn't be another one like you," said George jokingly. "Life couldn't be that cruel."
"Well thank you," said John, still subdued "Do you guys mind if we leave here, I really feel very uncomfortable all of a sudden."
"That's a good idea," said Bailey. "Our waiter is glowering at us, he's probably about to kick us out for making a scene in his restaurant!"
"I didn't make a scene," said John bitterly, but George laughed.
"No, but you were the cause of it, however innocent," he told him.
They filed out, John trying not to look left or right at the faces of the people around who clearly would have heard what was said to him. Once outside the restaurant, he turned to his co-workers and smiled ruefully, glad to feel the cool night air on his hot face.
"That was a very interesting finish to a great meal," he said. "But I don't want to do anything else in case I run into that frightening woman again. I think I'll go back to our room now, and watch a little must see TV. What are the rest of you going to do?"
Rachel looked out at the ocean, and sighed.
"I'd love to walk along the beach," she said, feeling the soft night breeze waft through her hair, lifting it a little. "I don't get to do that a lot. George, Bailey – come with me?"
Bailey looked over at the water, and smiled. "I haven't walked along the beach with a beautiful woman for many years," he said "I'm game."
"And you too George," said Rachel, threading her arm through Bailey's and extending her other hand towards George. "You spend far, far too much time in front of your computer screen. Come and breathe some gentle ocean air, and feel the night breeze on your face."
"How could I refuse such a poetic invitation," said George, his dark eyes shining. "If you fall asleep, you'd better not be snoring when I get back," he said to John, who grinned back at him.
"I'm not the one who snores," he said quickly, his eyes straying towards Bailey, who snorted indignantly.
"Let's go," he said to Rachel, deliberately turning his back on the younger man, and John's laugh followed them across the street.
John stayed for a moment, watching them walk across the road, down over the grass, to the sand and across it to the water's edge. He turned and walked several paces back toward the motel room, when a large black limousine pulled up alongside the curb next to where he was standing.
"Ah, Doctor Troy," said the Latino man who emerged from the back of the car, closely followed by a second. "I have been looking for you, I was told by the beautiful young lady you have been seeing, that you would be here tonight. I would like you to accompany me."
John frowned. "You've got the wrong guy," he said shortly, and kept walking, only to be forcibly swung around by a large hand grabbing his shoulder. He found himself looking into the barrel of a gun.
"Don't pretend you don't know me, Doc." said the man. "My friend here is not scared to use his gun. You will see it has a silencer on it. I asked you nicely, now I'm telling you – get in the car!"
John shook his head. "My name is John Grant, I do not know who you are or what you want," he repeated firmly, and with a sudden movement, grabbed the hand on his shoulder and twisted it around, so the man who had been holding him was now effectively nullified.
The man whose arm he was twisting fell to his knees, grunting in pain, while the first man who had spoken to him smiled slowly.
"You have learnt a little since we talked last time," he said, "But you knew I would come looking for you, surely, you and your partner, after what you did to Escobar? He left me in charge, and he expects me to make things right."
"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," said John. "But I'm willing to discuss it down at the Police station."
"You don't want to go to the Police, Doctor Troy. Surely not – besides which, I already have your partner. He's waiting for you at Escobar's house. You wouldn't want anything to happen to him, would you?"
As he was speaking, the man kneeling in front of John aimed an elbow at John's groin, and pulled free. At the same time the first man pulled the trigger on his gun, and a tranquilizer dart buried itself in John's side. John stared down at the dart in dismay, then everything began to go fuzzy, and as he fell forward, he felt his body being pushed into the car.