OMG! All of you guys who have so kind to leave me reviews have made my week! I've done bits of writing off and on for several years and still consider myself a novice, but I've been honored by your compliments. Granted my writing always needs LOTS of polishing but you guys have really made me feel wonderful and give the encouragement to try and improve myself. I'm also sorry that this update has taken so long; I've been writing a story about Maggie and Connor James (the mom and son duo) from Poseidon and its been absorbing some of my time. If ever gets a category for that film I'm definitely uploading it. And why am I the only one who liked that film? It was a perfect action-packed summer film! Anyway…I'll stop blathering. On to the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye or any of the characters or story arcs therein. I would however like to own Rachel McAdams…sigh…one can fantisize. Oh, and Jackson Rippner's style cause he looks so slick.
Chapter 4: Watching Miss Reisert
Like much of the Western world Jackson Rippner was not a morning person. Granted, people in his position (namely, those who oversaw and monitored government overthrows and flashy high-profile assassinations) generally had wacky sleeping schedules and quickly learned to do with without a lot of sleep. That did not mean however that sleep was any easier when one spent their night in a car.
The insistent mocking noise of Jackson's cell phone buzzed to life to the tune of Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro." Cracking his eyes open Jackson stared up from his position in the reclined driver's seat and up through the sunroof at the hazy Floridian sky. His Rolex said it was 7:00. That meant in turn that the lovely Lisa Reisert was probably waking this very moment as well, assuming the overview from the mission dossier was correct. Looking out the window of his car he saw a shadow moving behind the bedroom curtains. Yes, Lisa was definitely up.
If Lisa Reisert knew who Jackson Rippner was, then perhaps she would agree as well that mornings were, in general, a tedious and tiring affair. But she, in fact, did not happen to be aware of the assassin outside of her condo, and thus was blissfully ignorant of their common bond. And so when her own bedside alarm awoke to yet another new day, Lisa, like Jackson was forced to begin preparing for a day that she would much rather have spent sleeping in instead.
Crawling out from the temptingly warm sheets Lisa padded out to her small kitchenette to put on coffee before heading back to the bathroom. Shrugging out of her nightgown Lisa rolled her shoulders under the spray of the warm water, trying to relieve the ache in her muscles which had been too overpowering to be healed by a night of undisturbed good sleep. Lisa was not a woman who lived in a state of depression or despondency when it came to day-to-day life; ever since the rape she had convinced herself that wallowing in self-pity and anger was certainly not going to help the situation. But now, still living with a vague sense of self-disgust and sadness at the entire incident Lisa found herself more and more often turning into herself. Whether it was her morning shower, or work at the Lux Atlantic or even those rare outings with friends Lisa had become aware that she had slowly begun living a life so disconnected, so distant, so…internalized that now she was not even sure she could tell herself why she was still getting up out of bed in the mornings,
Reluctantly turning off the shower tap, Lisa toweled herself before selecting a conservative white blazer and skirt with a pearl gray blouse for work. She knew she would be lying to herself if she decided she had depression. No, that certainly wasn't. She wasn't a loner by chance, she was a loner by choice. After the….incident (Lisa could barely bring herself to use that word) life seemed so much simpler when she avoided confrontation and socialization. Lunch dates with her dad and the occasional night out with Cynthia were about the extent of her social life, and Lisa had convinced herself that the less she put herself out there, the less chance she had of being hurt, be it emotionally, mentally or physically. All three of those areas had already been violated once. Never again thought Lisa as she finished dressing. Selecting a Fiji apple from the bowl on the kitchen island and pouring herself a steaming hot cup of decaf French Vanilla, Lisa reminded herself that things could be much, much worse.
After all, the Fanta stain hadn't been permanent. Lisa grinned to herself. Day to day living, indeed. The small victories kept her sane.
Five minutes later, her Lexus roared to life and Lisa sped away to work.
About damn time thought Jackson. It was so unnerving to have to watch a target when one had no clear idea of what the target was doing. But with Lisa out of the house, now it was time to have a little fun.
Like bugging the house, for instance.
Glancing around surreptitiously, Jackson noted that there was little sign of life in the neighborhood. Not a single car on the road, no one collecting the papers from their driveways. Either way, it meant less people for him to worry about, and much less interruption too. Clutching a briefcase in one hand Jackson casually walked to the back of Lisa's condo. There was a high (but unlocked) fence and gate that led opened up to a small but tidy green yard and a patio with wooden lawn chairs and some small plants. The back door was no great difficulty to unlock either. With a small lock pick and a little patience Jackson had all three locks taken care of in a matter of minutes
Stepping into the house Jackson looked around. Lisa had done quite well for herself. The room he was standing in, what appeared to be the living area was a spacious and well lit environment, with large plush suede chairs and a couch, and an expensive looking entertainment center. Jackson made a mental note to look through her DVD collection at some point. Walking through the living area he then came to a small but elegant kitchen. And ahh, Lisa had thoughtfully if not intentionally provided his breakfast as well. How sweet Jackson thought to himself with a smirkPlucking a banana from the bowl on the kitchen island and pouring himself a cup of coffee (still warm) from the coffeepot Jackson wondered if he shoulf feel guilty. He wasn't in the habit of stealing food from his targets, but as this morning's surveillance had deprived him of his normally scheduled breakfast, why not help himself? It isn't as if she's going to miss a single piece of fruit and a little coffee anyway thought Jackson to himself. It had been his experience with former clients that the majority of people were so overwhelmed by the minutiae their own daily comings and goings that if they ever found a beer or two missing from the fridge or a throw pillow on the wrong side of the couch they usually chalked it up to their own forgetfulness.
Swallowing a bite of banana Jackson observed the rest of the first floor- there was small dining room, half bath and laundry room as well as a study, all of which could be useful for planting bugs. Walking upstairs from the foyer he found that the second floor had two full baths and two bedrooms. The smaller of the two held what looked to be a rarely used wrought iron bed with beige bed linens and comforter that highlighted the beige colored walls. The larger bedroom was painted in soft yellow, with a large mahogany bedroom set that looked both imposing and homey. As Jackson set his briefcase at the foot of Lisa's bed he took notice of the sheets. The sheets of the bed were the same warm beige tones as the other room, and looked crisp enough to bounce a quarter off of. Jackson silently hoped Lisa wasn't a neat freak; having a target freak out on the first day of surveillance because of a missing banana and wrinkled sheets was not going to make Jackson's job any easier.
"Lisa, I hope you like having visitors…you're going to be having lots of company soon" Jackson muttered to himself. It was of course a strict violation of protocol for a manager to involve his or herself with a target, and Jackson certainly didn't intent to be unprofessional in that regards. But how could he get an accurate measure of this woman's life if he didn't do a little exploring?
And that of course meant that Jackson could give himself the guiltless pleasure of bugging her house.
Opening his briefcase the manager extracted a small leather-bound box about the size of a wallet. Deft fingers silently opened the small box and pulled out the first of ten grey discs, no bigger than a dime, and half as thick. The Company was particularly proud of this little piece of magic, Jackson knew. Three years had gone into developing such sophisticated wireless recording software that Jackson would have the luxury of watching Lisa's every move in high definition color pixels. Ahh yes, there were some perks of being in the business he was in.
But where to put the cameras? Lisa was quite a beautiful woman. Many associates had no qualms about viewing their targets in "personal" moments, and Jackson himself was known to indulge in a little voyeurism on the rare occasions that targets were young female and attractive (a very rare circumstance in Jackson's case, since most targets were usually on the Fortune 500 list and pushing 60 on average.) But somehow he felt different about Lisa. Her life was obviously going to fall to shit in a few weeks when Keefe and his party were assassinated; why should she unknowingly be the target of any more suspect motives.
Sighing, Jackson began sticking the cameras to less conspicuous areas of the bedroom- one above the doorframe, one by the window, and another high above her bed. He had to put one in her bathroom too of course (for security reasons he told himself) so there was no way of resolving the modesty issue. The cameras were completely capable of zooming in and such, but Jackson liked to think that he could watch the daily surveillance without ogling Lisa too much. Somehow he didn't think it would be right to be drooling over a woman whose day to day life was not vital to the course of world politics and economics, unlike previous targets.
Wait just a second.
How can I be sympathizing with a woman I've just met? Jackson wondered suddenly. Lisa Reisert was going to be no different from previous jobs, why bother treating her like a china doll when ultimately he would be forced to intervene in her live at some point anyway? Shaking the uncomfortable thoughts from his head, Jackson moved downstairs to finish setting up the cameras. I am dealing with a target that was as much flesh and blood as I am, and dammit, I will watch her however closely I want to thought Jackson crossly, heading down to the first floor, briefcase tucked under his arm.
I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long to write; it was hard to write a Jackson that was interested in Lisa without making him seem unprofesssional, at least at this stage. I'm really trying to make him more in control of his emotions and actions right now. Please review and let me know what you think.