Normality – A Vague Attempt at Red Eye Fanfic
(Set one year after the end of the movie, Red Eye.)
Prologue
Normality. The word swished about in Lisa's mind like the cold, sweet drink in her mouth. She had taken to drinking Cosmopolitans now, because she remembered that he'd thought them "too common" for the likes of her. The word "common" seemed close enough to "normal," and normal was all that she craved at the moment. The thing was, Lisa was beginning to wonder if her version of normal had ever been anything but a chimera.
The legal proceedings had begun and ended quickly enough, with the help of a no contest plea from Jackson. There had been no painful, endless trial, and all Lisa had been asked to give was a statement. Just words. That was all. No sitting at the front of a courtroom feeling his icy azure eyes searching for her. Probing. She remembered that he could look right through her with those eyes of his. She wished that she could stop remembering.
The headlines that had followed had been bland and definitive. Rippner pleads no contest. Receives life sentence. She'd pored over every article she could find. Once, twice, three times. It should have felt like closure, the sentence, but all it felt like was the beginning of something bigger. Perhaps it was merely what he'd called her tendency toward female-driven, emotion-based reasoning acting up again, but something told Lisa that iron bars would never be enough to contain the likes of Jackson Rippner.
Chapter 1 – The Truth About Fear
The truth about fear is that it is often a completely irrational emotion.
The well-lit path up to Lisa's building took approximately thirty seconds to traverse, and, surely, within those thirty seconds, if anyone were to jump out of the shadows and grab hold of her, the cabbie would see and intervene. Or would he? Lisa wondered as she walked, heels clicking loudly on the cement, the key to the main door positioned strategically between her index finger and thumb. There were always these questions in her mind, no matter how useless they were. The building she lived in was secure, or was it? Lisa was no longer sure of anything, really. Seemingly irrational fear and questions – these were the only constants in her life any more. And of course there was her father, who had practically begged her to move back in with him after the whole ordeal with Jackson. However, she had been adamant that she should remain on her own, in her little apartment. Living with her father would simply be a step away from the normal existence that she so desperately wanted for herself.
The truth about fear is that it is a very powerful motivator.
Lisa pushed open her apartment door and quickly disabled the alarm. Her father had had it installed for her, the day after that one day, three years ago, when all that violence had thrust itself into her life and left her scarred, both literally and figuratively. It had been a very small comfort to the old man, being able to offer something he thought might help a situation in which he felt ultimately helpless. Still, he would worry himself to death, knowing that no amount of electronics and deafeningly loud sirens could forestall an intruder determined enough to gain entrance. He frequently found himself trying not to think about it.
The truth about fear is that you cannot escape it.
After lazily removing her sweater and dropping it and her purse on the side of her chocolate brown sofa, Lisa disappeared into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of coffee. She made instant, which was crap, but somewhat ameliorated, at least, with the addition of a shot of Baileys. The apartment hummed with a quiet that was almost unsettling in its serenity.
Warm liquid-filled mug in hand, Lisa returned to the lamp-lit living room and stretched out on the sofa. As she took a quick sip of her coffee, her eyes happened upon the copy of Jack the Ripper: The Definitive History that sat upon her ornate coffee table. Frowning, she set her mug down, picked up the book, and began reading where she'd left off. It was the honest truth that true crime had never really been her thing until she'd met Jackson Rippner. She couldn't say why she was reading all of the material on Ripper and the Whitechapel murders that she could get her hands on, only that maybe she felt like, by knowing the nature of fear, she could better deal with it, and, eventually, be free from it.
When a cool breeze blew in through the window and rustled the curtains, Lisa all but spilled what remained of her drink all over the carpet. The air on the bare skin of her face and neck felt like a hand ghosting its way across her flesh.
"It's a good read, isn't it?" came a familiar voice from some not-so-distant corner of the room. "Very…comprehensive."
Lisa knew, without turning around, the identity of the speaker, and yet, she found herself being spun around by the words, by that voice. When her eyes fell on him he smiled darkly and made a mock display of looking sheepish for a minute before breaking out with, "Hey Leese! How've you been?"
He looked just as she remembered him, though perhaps a bit thinner. He wore a high-collared shirt that undoubtedly concealed the scar left over from the wound she'd inflicted on him with the aid of a pen, neatly pressed slacks, and black, thick-soled oxfords. The same blue eyes stared intently through her.
Panicked, she scanned the room quickly for something that she might use to defend herself. Finding nothing, she slowly backed away from the sofa, moving toward the door.
"How did you get in here?" she asked, willing strength and steadiness into her voice.
"More questions, Leese? I'd have thought you'd have learned your lesson by now. I'm disappointed in you."
He inched forward as slowly as she moved away from him, as though the two of them were like magnetic poles reacting to proximity. When he lifted his arms from the side she saw that he was holding a pistol, complete with silencer, not unlike the one she'd once been forced to use on him.
"You're supposed to be in prison," she said, knowingly stating the obvious, trying to buy herself some time even though she felt that it was probably impossible. If she screamed, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot her. If she ran, he would not hesitate.
Jackson laughed humourlessly and trained the gun on his victim. Then, with his other hand, he wasted no time in retrieving a two-way from his pocket. Never letting his gaze stray from Lisa's person, he spoke directly into the phone.
"I've got her."
Mere moments afterward, he was guiding her down the stairs of her building, his gun concealed but still pointed directly at its intended target. Slung over her right shoulder was a duffel bag filled with a few things he'd thought she might need for the excursion. Jackson was surprised and maybe even a little disappointed that she hadn't put up much of a fight and seemed to be going willingly. This all changed, of course, when they finally made it into the out of doors and she broke into a staggered run, only to be tackled seconds later by one of his newly trained men. The man, who went by the name of Brant, dragged Lisa back and over to the black van that stood out of the light that fell on the path leading up to the apartment building.
"I was so hoping that I wouldn't have to do this, Lisa," Jackson hissed.
Lisa struggled to break free from Brant's grasp but found it to be an unmanageable task. She felt something sharp pierce the thin skin of her neck and, suddenly, the world went black.
Chapter 2 – Second Chances
It was with a great reluctance that Lisa opened her eyes upon regaining some semblance of consciousness. When she finally did, even the dim lighting of the room in which she now found herself was enough to introduce an unimaginable pain that seemed to pervade her entire upper body.
Squinting as she tried to adjust to the light, Lisa tried her best to assess the situation. It seemed that she was lying down on a bed, in what appeared for all intents and purposes to be a room in a cheap motel. All foiled attempts to move about were due to the fact that her hands and feet were bound with thin rope that scratched at her sensitive skin and did its best to cut off all circulation of blood from her extremities to other regions of her body. In fact, Lisa noted, both her hands and feet were asleep, and she struggled to move them about now, so that she might encourage them to wake up.
"Ah, I see that Sleeping Beauty is finally awake." Jackson's voice. Somewhere close. Lisa found that she didn't have to move to locate him in the room, as he was promptly at her side, seated on the edge of the bed. She meant to say something to him, but knew that the duct tape that had been used to gag her would prove any efforts to speak futile. Instead, she stared up at her captor as he hovered over her, vowing not to let him see her cry. She would not allow him the satisfaction of being witness to any of her weakness when he already had her in so vulnerable a position.
"I'm going to remove the gag, Leese," Jackson said, as simply and calmly as one would say, "I've got breakfast for the two of us."
"But you have to promise me that you won't do anything foolish."
Steadfastly holding Jackson's gaze, Lisa nodded, and tried not to react as he did as he'd promised. She blinked twice and unconsciously licked at her lips. "Untie me."
The order amused Jackson, and he raised his eyebrows and brought his face closer to hers, so that she could feel his warm breath on her tender skin. "The last time I was foolish enough to trust you, you went off and wrote a naughty message on a bathroom mirror that could have got us both into a lot of trouble."
"I won't run. I can't feel my feet or hands. Untie me."
He appeared to mull the issue over for a minute, before sitting back up and saying, "All right. I'm all for second chances."
Lisa closed her eyes tightly and remained silent as he untied the knots and freed her hands and feet. He seemed to take his time with the task, and let his touch linger when it should not have, an action that caused Lisa to shiver involuntarily.
When she sat up, the room appeared to move in ways that a room did not typically move, and black spots danced in the light before her eyes. Leaning back against the headboard, she brought one hand to her forehead and winced.
"Easy. That was no mild sedative I used on you earlier."
"I suppose it wouldn't do me any good to ask where we are, right?"
Jackson shrugged and shifted on the bed. "A motel. Off the highway. We're not going far tonight."
"Where'd your henchmen go?"
"They're where they need to be. We'll see them soon enough."
Feeling temporarily emboldened, Lisa glared at Jackson. "People will be looking for me."
"Oh, Leese," he said, chuckling softly, "You still have so much to learn. You know, maybe you had to go away on business for a couple of days. Maybe you needed some time away from the job. You really needn't worry. It's been taken care of. They won't be missing you."
Seeing that she had no response to this, Jackson let his gaze fall down past the delicate collarbones of his prisoner. Her upper body was clothed in nothing but a camisole and the scar she wore that he remembered so well was clearly visible. He brought one finger up to trace the outline of the permanent marking but was prevented from doing so by Lisa's own hand.
His cold smile transformed into a sneer, Jackson grabbed hold of Lisa's wrists and nearly effortlessly pushed her arms back against the headboard.
"So what is it, Leese," he practically spat into her ear, "What is it that keeps you going? All that you've been through in the past three years and yet you still refuse to take a day off from work. What's your secret?" His words were laced with derision and with every question he asked he dug his fingers harder into her flesh.
"Why am I here?" Lisa asked, relinquishing what little remained of her control, in hopes that it might make Jackson loosen his grip. It did, but he still held on.
"Now that is the one million dollar question, Leese. Well, if I wanted to be romantic I might say that this is me stealing you away, like I once promised that I might. Remember that, Leese? Yes, of course you do. But, really, the simple truth is that we need you." After saying this, he let go of her wrists and winked slyly.
"For what?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Now, I think that's enough time spent on question and answer period, don't you? Why don't you try getting some sleep? You'll need it for tomorrow."
"There's only one bed," Lisa said, her eyes scanning the room for any evidence that would refute her claim.
"You can have it. I don't sleep much anyway," Jackson answered, chuckling softly.
"Neither do I."
"I know. Sweet dreams, Leese."
Under Jackson's ever watchful gaze, Lisa crawled underneath the comforter with its garish floral print and the starched ivory sheets, at last letting her head rest again on one of the huge firm pillows. He didn't watch her as she tried to sleep, but never left the bedside, and, before she drifted off to sleep, Lisa wondered for a second if their brief but oh-so-memorable encounter that year ago had left him as paranoid as it had left her, and if maybe he was just better at concealing it.
Chapter 3 – The Edge of Morality
The sun had not yet risen from beyond the horizon when Jackson shook Lisa from her restless slumber. A quick glance at the alarm clock radio told Lisa that it was only a half past five AM. Not caring whether or not her captor heard her, she let out a low groan and buried her head in her hands. Two hours of sleep had not helped to scare away a headache the likes of which she'd never experienced before.
"Rise and shine!" Jackson shouted, tearing the covers away from her body. When he saw that she was not moving, he scooped her up into his arms. That was enough to make her move.
"I can walk perfectly fine on my own, thanks," she protested, but, nevertheless, found herself being transported to the bathroom.
Jackson grunted softly and chuckled. "I'd imagined that you would be lighter, Leese."
"Go to Hell," she spat, and he responded to this directive by dropping her into the bathtub. The back of her head smacked against the mildewed beige and ivory tile, doing absolutely nothing to help her headache.
"Good morning to you too, love," he returned, injecting all the venom that he could into that last useless word. He then reached over and turned on the faucet, turning the cold water valve first, followed the hot, before starting up the shower. Lisa screamed as the water, which was far too cold, soaked through her jeans, her thin camisole. She shifted in the tub and began to fumble at the valves, trying to shut the water off, but Jackson slapped her hands away.
"Shower up and get ready. We have a flight to make." A knowing smirk teased at his lips as he spoke. For as long as she could remember, Lisa had always hated flying, and Jackson knew this. He knew quite a bit about Lisa Reisert, in fact.
Lisa lingered in the bathroom for as long as she thought would not seem suspicious. Sighing, she realized that it wasn't really as though there were any real means of escape in this windowless room anyway. The steam from what had eventually been a very hot shower swirled about in the air, whilst the fan whirred noisily and made very little progress towards its ultimate goal of defogging the mirror. Lisa offered it a little help, by wiping the steam off the mirror with one hand while, with the other, she clutched at the towel she was wearing wrapped around her body.
A pale, tired ghost of herself stared back when she looked into the mirror. The scar below her collarbone could be seen clearly, and she ran one finger around it now, tracing the path it made on her flesh. Doing what he had wanted to.
"Lisa? You haven't drowned in the bathtub, have you?" he called from behind the closed door. The smile in his voice was not easily ignored.
"My clothes aren't in here with me," she pointed out, though she felt like she knew already how he would respond to such a complaint.
"They're out here by the bed," was all he said, and she heard him taking a few steps away from the door.
It was ridiculous and pointless to argue, to ask questions, to make requests. She grabbed her wet shirt from the linoleum floor and pulled it over her head. Her underwear came next. Then the sopping wet jeans. Before she was able to finish he was banging at the door again.
"Open the door, Leese," he instructed, and when she did he was there to greet her on the other side, an amused expression on his face. Most likely delighting in the fact that she had obeyed him without asking any questions, she thought. Unfortunately, his amusement didn't last for long.
"Your clothes are by the bed. Get dressed out here. I should know better by now than to leave you alone in washrooms." He roughly grabbed hold of her arm and led her out into the room.
As much as Jackson didn't seem to notice Lisa while she dressed, she looked at him for long enough to see that he'd changed. A different shirt, a pair of khakis, hair parted neatly at the side. He was seated on the side of the bed, hunched over, furiously scribbling notes about something or other. Only one bed. It would have done no good for Lisa to try to dress underneath the covers, so she'd forgotten her modesty and stripped off her clothing as quickly as she could. The clothing he'd told her to bring was business attire. A pale pink camisole, a light grey jacket and matching pencil skirt, clear pantyhose, and painful, toe-pinching heels.
"A good choice," Jackson intoned, causing Lisa to look up from the buttons on her jacket she'd been busy fastening. A smile as dark and sinister as most all of his other smiles crossed the face of the man who had reintroduced terror into her life and redefined normality for her, and he teased, "You thought I would look, didn't you, Leese? So little faith." He paused for effect then, and followed up his paused with a dramatic sigh. "If I am anything, I am always a gentleman."
She didn't waste any words on him by bothering with a response. It seemed to be time for another question. This time it was, "Where are we going?"
"New York," Jackson answered, slamming his notebook shut and tucking it away in his black leather briefcase.
"New York City?"
"New York City, Leese. The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. I want to be a part of it, New York, New York. Isn't it exciting?"
"Why are we going there?"
"The question you should be asking, Lisa, is 'why am I going there?' Because, you see, you and I will be playing entirely different roles in the events that will unfold today."
"All right. Why am I going there?"
"Business. Primarily business, maybe a little pleasure. Whatever it takes to get the job done," he explained. "You'll be meeting with an old friend of yours. Someone who you know quite well. That person has access to something that we need, and you are going to acquire that something for us. By any means necessary."
Lisa eyed her tormentor warily. "What is this thing that you need so badly?"
"I'll tell you more on the plane. Get your stuff together. We need to be out of here in ten minutes."
For the next ten minutes, Lisa worried her lower lip and considered bolting from the room. She wasn't sure which frightened her more – the prospect of staring down the barrel of Jackson's gun, or the idea of getting on another plane with him.
Chapter 4 – Stupid Coincidences
It turned out that the flight was chartered, and the plane only seated four passengers and their baggage, as well as a pilot and co-pilot. Lisa had guessed that they wouldn't be taking a regular commercial flight, but this tiny toy of an airplane was, to say the least, mildly disconcerting.
Jackson sensed her disquietude and whispered, "Not what you expected, Leese?"
She didn't answer.
On board the plane she buckled herself in and closed her eyes tightly. Along with her in the cabin were Jackson, Brant, and another burly gentleman who was undoubtedly concealing some sort of weapon.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Jackson began as soon as the plane started to taxi down the makeshift runway. His voice had a dry colour to it, and Lisa could tell that he was about to give a little spiel simply for her benefit.
"We are all set to make our departure. Please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened and your tray tables are in the upright position. In addition, please turn all cell phones and electronic devices off. And we'll ask that you please stay seated until we reach cruising altitude and the "Fasten seatbelt" sign is no longer illuminated. At that time your wonderful flight attendants will be around with the beverage and snack cart, should you require refreshment. Thank-you for flying with Rippner Airlines."
As the tiny craft gained velocity, Lisa tried to control her breathing and ignore Jackson's running commentary. The plane moved forward at what felt like an incredible speed and banged about from side to side before the earth seemed to drop out from beneath it. As it did so, Lisa clung desperately to the arms of her seat. With every other jerk and bustle, Jackson's arm lightly brush against hers. She remembered that, the first time they'd been on a plane together, she'd wanted to grab his hand during the ascension, knowing that it would offer more comfort and warmth than she would ever find in the cold plastic and cheap fabric of the armrest. She had refrained from doing so, however, thinking he might find it odd of her to grab hold of the hand of a man she'd just met. This was, of course, before he'd announced his true intentions. Before he'd told her that she was not such a stranger to him.
Finally, the plane levelled out and a relative calm settled over the cabin. Lisa let go of the arms of her seat and folded her shaking hands in her lap. Beside her, Jackson was pulling something from a manila envelope he'd retrieved from his briefcase. A photograph.
"Do you recognize this man?" he asked, placing the photo in Lisa's lap.
It was a simple five by seven print on glossy paper. The shot had been taken from afar, probably with a zoom lens. The subject, a man in his mid- to late-twenties, was quite clearly not aware that he was being photographed. His attention was focused elsewhere, on something that he was carrying. Clearly though, what he was carrying was entirely irrelevant. Lisa focused on his face instead. Long, narrow nose, frameless glasses. He had windblown sandy blonde hair. A sudden realization slapped Lisa in the face and the photo fluttered out of her hands and to the floor. She leaned forward and buried her head in her hands, willing it not to be true.
"Alex," she whispered.
"So you know him, then?"
"We went to college together. I—is he the person I'm supposed to be meeting?" Lisa picked up the photo again, straightened up in her seat.
"Yes. I understand that you and Mr. Griffin were very close in college. How perfect, then, that he also happens to be the manager of the brand new Lux Atlantic in New York City."
"We were, we were just friends."
"You're lying again, Lisa," Jackson hissed.
"The Lux Atlantic in New York," she tried, "It isn't finished yet. They're not done building it yet. There's no one staying in any of the rooms. What—"
"Minor, minor details, Leese. It's nearly finished. We just need you to get a copy of the building plans for us."
Lisa managed to draw her gaze away from the photograph then, and forced herself to make eye contact with Jackson. And, just as she'd feared, no glimmer or spark of humour was to be found within the unearthly blue abyss she saw there. Jackson had never been the kidding type.
"Why would a manager have the plans to the hotel?"
"He has access to them. And you two are going to meet up, have lunch, and talk about what you both know best. It's all been arranged, Leese. Really, I am astonished at your lack of confidence in me."
"What are you going to do with the plans?"
"I'm going to see to it that they reach their final destination, and, after that, I wash my hands of the whole dirty business."
An empty silence fell between the two of them then, and Lisa stared out one of the small side windows at the grey, unfriendly sky.
"They'll be looking for you, won't they?" she finally asked, handing the photograph back to Jackson.
He turned to look at her, smiling enigmatically. "Sooner or later," he said at last, "But this is my last job, Lisa. This is for an old friend. I owe him one, and I always repay my debts."
"What are you going to do after you're done then? Run off to Zimbabwe and torment women like me there instead?"
This garnered a low, hearty chuckle from him. "That's funny, Lisa! Who knew you had a sense of humour? You are just full of surprises. But, to answer your question, I don't plan on staying in America, no."
"I'm sure that America won't miss you," she muttered, but he heard her and chuckled more at this.
"I don't expect it to," he said. "When we land, we'll be heading to the Radisson. It's not far from where you'll be meeting Alex, but it's early still and we need to get you set up."
"Right."
"Oooh, time for the descent!" Jackson exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. And as he shifted in his seat Lisa caught sight of the scar on his neck and smiled to herself. She would do it again if she had to. Unfortunately, it seemed that she would need more than just a novelty pen to get herself out of the predicament in which she presently found herself. As she felt the plane dip forward, she unconsciously gripped Jackson's sleeve, and he pretended not to notice.
On the ground, she told him, "It's a good thing for stupid coincidences, or you never would have got the chance to…repay your debt to me."
"Oh, come on, Leese. I would never have left without at least stopping in to say good-bye. You know that."
The icy, detached tone that crept into his voice as he spoke sent shivers through her spine. It was like they were back in the closet-sized washroom of the airplane again, his hand at her throat, his eyes boring deep into her skin. Then, her apartment. How easily he'd gained access. It seemed that, whenever she began to think that she had control, something came along to shatter that illusion. The alarm system, the locks on the doors and windows – these were all elements of an elaborately constructed illusion of control. He would have held her down at the end, just to prove to her how absolutely helpless she was, and she could almost hear him whispering his farewell as he pressed the cold, steel blade of the knife against her throat. Good-bye, Leese. And suddenly, somehow, she felt grateful for stupid coincidences.
Chapter 5 – Physical Weakness
It was not long before Lisa was alone in a room again with Jackson. The shades were drawn, and Jackson was busy rifling through a case that he'd taken from Brant before the burly henchman had taken off with his other half to some undisclosed location.
"You'll need to wear a wire," Jackson said calmly, "So we don't lose you."
A strong gust of wind blew in through the half-open window and bounced the shades about, so that they clicked and clattered against the glass. It would rain before the day was up, Lisa knew.
"Take off your jacket. And your shirt too," Jackson ordered. He reached over and turned one of the room's many lamps on, then turned his attention back to his not-so-willing partner in crime.
Lisa sat on the edge of the bed, her feet flat on the floor, staring at him, trying her best to look defiant. Jackson sighed in exasperation.
"I'm not going to ask you twice, Leese."
"This person you're working for. Why does he need these plans? What is so important about this hotel?"
"No more questions," Jackson instructed, "I can get Brant to do it, you know. And I promise you that he won't be nearly as gentle about it as I would be."
Biting back tears, Lisa stood up and took off her jacket, then pulled her shirt over her head and laid it neatly on the bed behind her. And, this time, Jackson looked, even though he tried not to let her notice him doing so. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest, and the lace of her bra felt strangely rough against her skin.
"Turn around."
He didn't need to stand so close to put the wire on her, but he did anyway. Because he could. Because he wanted to prove that he still had control over her and not the other way around. His hands were soft, and she wondered if he'd ever actually killed anyone, or if he simply always got other people to do his dirty work. And his moist breath was on her neck again, making her tremble in a way that she wished it did not. This was her body's betrayal. Its way of telling her that she was no longer in control.
"So was Alex the one, Leese?" Jackson whispered in her ear. With his hands he wordlessly indicated the she needed to turn around, and when she did he finished securing the wire on her, pushing her arms down and hooking the tiny microphone at the centre of her bra. Tears flooded forth from the small pools that had formed in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She cursed herself for being such a perfect display of physical and emotional weakness. He was seeing it all, and it was precisely that inescapable truth that made her feel sick to her stomach.
"Did he hurt you, or was it the other way around?" he pressed on, drawing her eyes to his and closing the remaining distance between them so that that their noses bumped lightly. Lisa didn't bother to fight him.
"Does it matter?" she answered, without really answering. Jackson's only reaction to the non-answer was a smirk. He pulled back slightly and brought his hands up to her cheeks. Wiped away the tears with his thumbs.
"No more crying," he said coldly, "Get dressed. Alex will be expecting you."
Chapter 6 – Alex
Lisa stared out the window of the taxicab as it dangerously sped its way to the construction site that would soon be the Lux Atlantic New York. She was looking out but seeing nothing, as all she could focus on were Jackson's words as he gave her a long list of last minute instructions.
"We'll be watching," he said, and Lisa bit down hard on her lip. She was alone and there was no running now, no trust and no running. She'd not been underestimated this time around. A considerable, immoveable weight settled on her chest.
"It's a half past noon right now. You have four hours," Jackson continued, glancing cursorily at his watch.
"What if it takes me longer than that?"
"You have four hours, Lisa," he said firmly.
The cab rolled to a stop beside the curb and the two passengers climbed out. Lisa sighed and smoothed her skirt, tugged at her jacket.
"Do me a favour and don't do anything stupid, okay Leese?" Jackson instructed. "He's over there."
Lisa looked in the direction Jackson had indicated. Sure enough, there Alex stood, holding a clipboard and conversing with a short, stout gentleman wearing a white hard hat. The foreman, Lisa guessed.
"Four hours. We'll be watching," Jackson whispered, and it was at that point when they went their separate ways. Still, Lisa knew that Jackson would never be too far off. She could still feel his hand gripping her elbow as she made her way across the newly laid pavement to her former beau.
"Always getting down in the trenches and getting your hands dirty, eh Alex?" she called to him when she was a few feet away. Her voice managed to break his attention away from the conversation he was still having with the foreman, and he looked up at her, smiling.
"Leese!" he exclaimed, and she winced at his shortening of her name. It was to be expected, though. He'd always called her that; he didn't know any better.
Really he didn't look all that different from what she remembered. Same haircut, new glasses. How long had it been? Four years, Lisa thought, but it felt like longer. She didn't feel at all like the person she had been when she'd been dating Alex.
Alex ended his conversation with the foreman and rushed over to give Lisa a hug. Although she knew he probably wouldn't feel the wire, which was small and easily concealed, she recoiled from his touch. Static crackled in her earpiece like distant thunder.
"I thought we would get some lunch," Alex said, staring at her sideways. Inhaling deeply, she made eye contact with him and nodded.
"That sounds good," she managed, tugging nervously on the strap of her brown leather purse.
"Okay. Great." Alex smiled, a bright, wide smile, and his green eyes sparkled. Like they were just old friends. Like everything between them had always been right and good. It made Lisa feel less guilty for her dishonesty.
They lunched at a small café not far from the construction site, choosing to sit inside rather than out due to the coolness of the day and the looming, ominous grey clouds. Lisa knew they had been followed. A broad shouldered man in a long, dark jacket and clothing of a similar shade sat reading the newspaper and drinking coffee at a corner table a few feet away from the table she shared with Alex. Lisa had accidentally caught his eye when he'd come in and he'd given her a knowing look before settling down with his paper.
"So, how've you been?" Alex inquired as he stirred cream into his coffee.
"Oh. I've been okay." Lisa fidgeted with the buttons on her jacket and stared down at her turkey sandwich. She hadn't eaten any actual food since noon the previous day, but she really didn't seem to have much of an appetite.
"Are you sure, Leese?" At this question, she bristled, hearing the concern in his voice and seeing his eyebrows raised in a show of disbelief. Alex hadn't changed much at all, it seemed.
"I'm sure," she said firmly, "How about you?"
"Oh, you know," he began, "I've been busy. Throwing as much onto my plate as possible. The hotel is supposed to be completed by the end of the month."
"Really?" Lisa tried to take a sip of her green tea, but it was too soon. The hot liquid scalded her lips and the tip of her tongue.
"Yep. We've already done all the hiring and everything. We're good to go once we're finished with the construction. It's going to be great."
"How exciting for you. You'll have to show me around. I'm interested to see what kinds of improvements were made on the design of the Miami Lux Atlantic." Lisa forced a smile. She wanted to keep this all about business, but she wasn't sure how easy that would be, given that it was Alex with whom she was dealing. They'd already used up thirty minutes of the four hours she had been given.
"I'd be glad to give you a tour," he answered, smiling, "You'll have to wear a hard hat though. Hope you don't mind."
"I think I can handle that." Lisa chuckled softly. Genuinely. But when he lightly touched her hand and told her how good it was to see her again she only nodded and smiled sadly.
The head architect was tall and lean with a narrow hooked nose. He shook Lisa's hand and gladly showed her the hotel plans. They meant very little to her, but she looked on with interest as he pointed out the various features of the structure. Underneath the plans was a large map that featured a series of tunnels, and this piqued Lisa's interest.
"What are these?" she inquired.
"Oh, the tunnels," Alex interjected. "They were already there when we started building. I guess they are over fifty years old. Nobody uses them any more from what I understand, so we decided to use them to our advantage. Made new ways of accessing them from the building. They're to be used by our more… prestigious clientele. For privacy reasons."
Lisa nodded. "How far do they extend?"
"Quite far, actually. They lead to various locations in the downtown area."
"Who knows about these tunnels?" Lisa retrieved a notepad and pen from her purse and began furiously jotting down notes, playing the part of hands-on hotel manager as she'd been trusted to.
It was the architect, whose name was Samson, who fielded this question. "The city of New York, for one. We had to get a special permit to even go down into the tunnels to see what kind of condition they were in, let alone use them. They gave us the map, albeit reluctantly. As far as anyone else is concerned, well, the building crew doesn't know what the tunnels are to be used for. They may have some ideas, but only Alex and myself know the real purpose at the present time."
"A few select members of the staff will be added to that list eventually, but they will all have to sign non-disclosure agreements," Alex added, "As, I'm afraid, I am going to have to get you to do as well, Lisa."
"That's fine," Lisa said, lying. Nothing about this was fine. Her mind was racing and she felt ill, as though the meagre contents of her stomach were being tumbled about like clothes in a washing machine. She wanted to laugh coldly at the idea of a non-disclosure agreement, but she had never been all that good at cynicism. She didn't want to believe that everybody lied, even if she knew it to be true.
Shortly after the brief meeting with Samson, Lisa pulled Alex aside and asked if he would make for her a copy of the plans, so that she could go over them in more detail and consider what possible changes could be made to the Lux Atlantic in Miami that would improve business and make for more efficient operations. There was some discussion of possible renovations to the hotel in the near future, she explained. And would he include a copy of the map as well, she asked coyly, knowing full well that Alex would never appreciate the significance of such a document, but Jackson, who had heard every word of her exchanges with Alex and Samson, would. Furthermore, Alex trusted her. She acknowledged this in spite of the fact that it pained her to do so. Originally, she had thought that the best way to go about acquiring what she wanted was to be professional and forthright, and so it was, but she thought that perhaps there was nothing really professional about the way she stood so close to him and touched his arm when she asked, or the way she held his gaze for a little too long. And before they parted, they exchanged business cards and she agreed to keep in touch, even though she knew that she would not.
Lisa was all too conscious of the extra weight in her right hand as she left the construction site. The copies were rolled neatly into a cardboard tube and concealed within a white plastic bag that had the Lux Atlantic logo on it. Also, for good measure, Alex had tossed in a few pens embossed with the same logo and other items of a similar nature. There were people everywhere, but the only sound she could focus on was that of her heels on the pavement, the swishing of the plastic bag as she walked. She thought about bolting, but before she could do any more than think about it, Jackson was at her side, gripping her arm tightly.
"Nice work, Leese," he whispered. A black van pulled over to the curb and its side door slid open. "That's our ride."
As though moving in a dream, Lisa allowed herself to be helped into the van. Mechanically she buckled her seatbelt on her own, but later on she would have no recollection of doing so. Jackson was speaking to her but his words sounded garbled. She felt like she was drowning, but there was no sensation of panic. There was no gasping for air or clawing at the surface, only a resigned sigh and an unsettled calm washing over everything. She closed her eyes and it started to rain.
Chapter 7 – Selective Truths
Back at the hotel, Jackson helped Lisa remove the wire, though she tried to prevent him from doing so. The windows were closed, but the high-pitched whistling of the wind was audible even through the glass, even over the sound of the rain pelting violently against the pane.
"I'm proud of you, Lisa," Jackson said, smirking, "You passed the test."
Lisa sunk down on the bed and didn't bother to look up as she asked, "What test?"
"I think you know."
And she did. Of course she did. The copies were gone now. She guessed that they were being transported by Brant and, therefore, already well on their way to this person for whom Jackson had done this one last favour.
"I'm surprised at you, Lisa. No questions?"
She shook her head despondently. "I don't want to know."
This response seemed to please Jackson, as he grinned broadly and stopped packing up his things to look at his captive.
"You know, that is probably the most honest thing you've ever said to me," he said. "I knew you'd come around sooner or later."
"So," Lisa began, trying to speak slowly and calmly, so that her voice would not crack, "Are you going to kill me now?"
Jackson laughed humourlessly at this and moved over to where Lisa was sitting on the bed. He stood over her, gazing down and practically challenging her to look up at him. When she didn't, he cupped her chin with his hand and tilted her head back very slightly. She gasped softly.
"You're a smart girl, Leese."
"You don't need me any more. You're not just going to let me go."
"No, you're right. I'm not going to let you go."
Sighing, Lisa pushed Jackson's hand away and stood up to face him.
"If you don't need me, let me go," she ordered, defiantly locking eyes with her captor.
"Oh, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. I didn't say that I don't need you. I said that I'm not going to let you go." Jackson looked amused, and his cold eyes lit up with something that, most disconcertingly, looked a lot like glee.
A weary Lisa glanced over Jackson's shoulder and out the window. They were several stories up, she knew, and she would never make it if she chose to take that way out, even assuming she could get past Jackson, who, she saw, was still very, very armed.
"Weighing your options?" he asked, chuckling. "Well, to me they look a lot like, 'stay, or die.' I don't know about you, but I really think the former would be a lot less messy."
Lisa said nothing. She started to slowly back away from Jackson, but he advanced towards her. They were dancing again, in the same way they had back at her apartment. Her eyes drifted down toward the gun at his side.
"Now, now Leese," Jackson hissed, grabbing hold of her wrists, "How can we be partners if we can't even be friends?" A dark smile crossed his face and he threw her roughly against the wall. She winced and tried to break free from his grasp, but he was forcing his entire weight against her and escape was impossible.
"Tell me some more about Alex then," he said, his words hot on her skin.
"Fuck you," she spat.
Jackson reacted to this by pulling her forward and slamming her back against the wall again. She writhed about beneath him.
"You broke his heart, and yet he's still pining for you. So much so that he broke the rules. Just for you." He was whispering in her ear, digging his fingers into her flesh. Without thinking, she leaned forward and bit down on his ear, causing him to scream in pain and loosen his grip on her temporarily; however, he quickly caught up with her and, before she even knew what was happening, Lisa found herself on her back on the bed, with Jackson on top of her. Blood dripped slowly down the side of Jackson's neck and Lisa was suddenly aware of the faintly metallic taste of the liquid on her tongue, some foreign emotion in the eyes of this man who so easily destroyed her illusions, the sound of his breathing turned ragged. "Don't fight it, Leese," he said in a tone subdued, "It's beyond your control."
Lisa spat in Jackson's face and he smiled wickedly. As she moved beneath him she tried to ignore the growing hardness pressing against her abdomen. It was not so easy to ignore, however, the feel of his lips against her own, the sting of his teeth piercing the tender flesh there. Then his hands were at her chest, tearing off her camisole. In her mouth, her blood mingled with his. Salt. Iron. She fought harder, but when he kissed her again, she kissed him back, gasping for air, slipping her tongue past his teeth. She tore at his shirt, snapping half of its buttons off before he removed it completely. The gun, which, contrary to what Lisa believed, was no longer loaded anyway, he dropped onto the floor. As he unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it down, along with her underwear, she grabbed chunks of his hair and pulled, eliciting a guttural growl from the assailant. Assailant. Was that what he was? Lisa didn't know. She felt like she didn't know anything any more.
Jackson turned her over onto her stomach and held her down with the weight of his lower body. She could hear him unbuttoning his pants, pulling the zipper down. She continued to struggle, not because she was afraid, but because she was not about to make this easy for him. This was an act of mutual destruction. The two like poles clashing together in spite of the force striving to push them apart.
And try as she might, Lisa could not suppress the moan that threatened to escape when Jackson entered her from behind. This made Jackson chuckle, as he continued to do when Lisa wrested one arm free, licked her fingers, and reached down to stroke her clit. He was rough with her, thrusting hard, and when he came he gasped her name before sinking his teeth deep into her shoulder. He used his fingers to finish her off, and by then there was no more fighting. She climaxed quietly, shaking violently as he tried to hold her still.
"Come on," Jackson said, afterwards, "Shower time. We have to get out of here."
As he carried her into the bathroom he was acutely aware of her soft sighs and the feel of her hair against his bare chest. Neither of them spoke; words felt superfluous. In the shower, he held her tightly as the water ran over their bodies, washing away the sweat, the blood. He wasn't ready to let her go just yet.
TBC?