Chapter 15: Afternoon

Aaron walked Marta to the atrium lobby of the hotel, his hand low on her hip, keeping her close to him as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. To the staff and other guests they looked like a handsome young couple on an extravagant honeymoon. An older woman smiled knowingly at Marta and winked. Marta smiled back shyly, dropping her eyes in a show of modesty at her "husband's" public display of affection. She knew to keep it conservative in a place like this, even if everyone assumed they were newlyweds.

Marta struggled not to feel like a newlywed as Aaron's nose nuzzled her ear and his breath tickled her neck. She trembled as a shiver ran down her spine, but listened attentively, thankful the warm blush she felt spreading over her fit the role.

He said, "There's a line of palm trees on the south side of the building. One of the suite windows opens to it. Take the canvas pack I shoved in one of the suitcases and drop it to me when I give a signal."

Marta nodded and Aaron nipped at her neck, then gave it a quick kiss. She pushed against his chest. "William," she scolded. He gave her a rakish look as he released her, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Aaron was steps ahead, mentally, in the mission already.

"Enjoy yourself while I'm out," he said to his "wife", no longer whispering. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but order room service if I don't make it in time for dinner."

"All right, love; but do try to make supper," Marta replied, accepting a formal kiss on her cheek before her "husband" turned for the exit. She sauntered towards the elevator, restraining herself from rushing to their room.

She entered the penthouse suite and paused a moment to admire its dazzling opulence and the breathtaking views of the ocean on one side and views of the best part of the city in on the other. She took in her surroundings and her eyes fell on the Vuitton luggage. She tore them open and pulled the canvas pack Aaron had prepared.

Orienting herself, she determined the southern windows and walked to them. Seeing the line of palm trees, she lifted the largest pane. Instead of hanging out the window and searching conspicuously, she leaned forward casually as if to take in the fresh air. She held her head steady but her eyes earnestly scanned for Aaron, noting two or three others in the area.

Finally, she saw him round the corner holding something in his hand that he tapped against the other. He nodded a friendly smile to a couple sitting on the bench, lifting something to his mouth. When he dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of metal that flashed in the sun, Marta realized it was a cigarette he had brought to his lips. He didn't smoke, she frowned. Was he really going to light it? He did, and sat down next to the couple who glared at him as they got up and walked away.

He stood, casually smoking until the only other person in the vicinity, an old man taking a stroll, was out of sight. Aaron didn't look up as he stubbed out the cigarette. He shoved the pack in his pocket and headed towards the other end of the building on a path that would cross below her. When he neared the spot below her, he stopped and flicked the butt in a wide arc.

Marta glanced all around nervously. Seeing no one, she dropped the bag. Aaron took a few quick steps and easily caught the pack, despite the fact it had plummeted from a substantial number of stories above. She watched from the corner of her eye until he had disappeared down the far street, heading north. She waited a few minutes then stepped back and pulled the window shut. All she could do now was wait.

Marta explored the suite and unpacked their things. She found herself pacing restlessly so she laid on the bed, closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, deliberately, to calm herself. As her heart rate slowed, her mind drifted. She mentally reviewed their plan for tomorrow, though Aaron would have to fill her in on whatever arrangements he was making now. Like where they would go when they had successfully obtained the program medication she was after and how they would get there. Depending on the results of today's scouting mission, the plan was for her to acquire the pills from the morgue. Melancholy at the thought, Marta redirected her focus to their conversation earlier, in the restaurant.

They would be leaving the Philippines tomorrow night to make their way back to the U.S. Perhaps they would take a round-about course, but they needed to get home very soon. They would seek out Pamela Landy's lawyer and maybe Jason Bourne himself. Bourne, Marta thought, another rogue operative, like Aaron. She wondered what his story was.

Dr. Hillcott and their team had only successfully achieved results with the volunteers in the last few years. The stem protocol to lock in the enhancements had only been approved in the last six months, due to some severe complications in the early subject tests. She doubted, therefore, that a forerunner to Outcome had the benefits of the physical and mental advancements she and her colleagues had developed. She and Aaron barely survived the last few days. Marta marveled that Bourne had lived years on his training and skills alone.

Had he been alone? she wondered. Aaron refused to leave her. She could scarcely believe it, but he was adamant that they stay together. Kenneth Kitsom may have been a perfect Outcome candidate, but Aaron Cross was not cut out to be a lone wolf. He was too alive; too passionate for a solitary life. He was almost old-fashioned in his patriotism, idealism and loyalty.

Marta's reflections moved from Bourne's possible motivations to Aaron's. He wanted to expose the corrupt part of the government that used its soldiers as science experiments. But he was willing to forgo that fight to run-with her. For her.

Aaron didn't like that she had insisted they come here to Manila for the evidence they needed, because it put her in danger. He wasn't much concerned with his own safety. He had declared they would live through this together or die trying to. He would die for her.

Suddenly, Marta knew she would die for him as well. The revelation should have terrified her, but she felt free and happy. She wasn't dead yet. A very different restlessness overtook her and she sat up from the bed. She was going to take advantage of the hotel's amenities, as Aaron mentioned earlier. She stood and grabbed her purse, deciding to head for the fancy parlor shops in the atrium.

Thinking of Aaron, Marta's heart swelled as she rode the elevator down. Then a thrilling ache settled low in her abdomen as she silently agreed with his not-so-subtle suggestion to make the most of tonight.

Entering the grand lobby, Marta walked towards the french boutique she had spotted earlier. The concierge noted her arrival and was pleased to see she would be shopping. American husbands always indulged their new wives when they stayed at the Manila Palm, he thought to himself, smiling. The shrewd man was only to happy to rush forward, hold open the door, and personally introduce Mrs. Katherine Fitzpatrick to the boutique's manager.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick instructed us to take good care of his wife. Please see she finds everything she needs and wants for nothing. Her husband would consider us remiss to keep anything but the best from her."

He turned to Marta with a sweeping bow. "Charge all you desire to the penthouse suite. Please, enjoy yourself and experience the finest we have to offer. We are at your service."

As he left the rich young newlywed in the older french woman's hands, he winked at the manager from behind the petite brunette. It was the hint he used to silently tell her to get particular customers to buy, buy, buy.

The distinguished shopkeeper lifted a haughty brow at the gauche little man then turned her graceful attention to her guest. "My dear, how can I help you?" she asked in a charming French accent.

Marta bit back a smile at the disdainful look the woman had leveled at the concierge. She liked her immediately. She felt comfortable enough to tell the owner exactly what she wanted. "I desperately need your help," she said. "There was one piece of our luggage the airlines misplaced. They have located the bag and will bring it to us here at the hotel, but it won't arrive until the day after tomorrow, at the earliest."

"It was, of course, the most critical piece," Marta appeared to despair. "It has all my toiletries, underclothes and...feminine items."

The Frenchwoman nodded her head in understanding and patted Marta's shoulder in sympathy. "Don't you fret, my dear, I have everything you need. I'm afraid this happens all too often. Despair not; I can get even the most intimate of items a pretty young wife, such as yourself, could require."

"Or desire," the woman added, her eyes twinkling. "This a french boutique, after all."

Marta smiled brightly with gratitude she didn't have to fake. The owner searched behind the counter, then handed her a pad of paper and pen. "Just write down anything you need that you don't see on display and I'll make sure you have it all within the hour-with full discretion."

"Voila! There we have your needs met," she clasped her hands together, "Now for your desires..." She led Marta to the most beautiful, delicate silk and lace pieces she had ever seen. Each garment was a tasteful work of art. She admired and fingered the garments gently, until she felt the Frenchwoman looking at her, a distinguished brow arched.

"...not to mention the desires of your husband, too. No?" she asked with a soft smile.