She would later have no memory of the trip to the marina - probably she was a road hazard. Within a minute she pulled up in front of a strange little corrugated tin clad building with "Lyle's Boat Repair" hand painted on the side. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked in. The office was stuffy and grubby, and smelled of motor oil, varnish, and sawdust. A girly calender and a map of the lake were the only adornment on the walls.
"Hallo!" a friendly voice called before she spotted the person attached to it. "What can I do for you?" A small, rounded man rose up from his seat behind the counter.
"I'm looking for Felix?" she said, uncertainly. Had he really used the name Felix? Did this mean he was a fan of The Odd Couple? This was all so unlikely - it had to be a mistake. The guy at the soda counter probably had it wrong. People were actually poor at spotting likenesses, Jaime had noticed. They were easily fooled by haircuts and glasses.
"Sure." said the man pleasantly, "I'll get him for you." and he exited heavily through the door opposite to the one that she had come though - the one that lead to the lake and the docks.
It seemed like a long wait, though it couldn't have been more than three minutes. Instinctively, Jaime turned so that she could easily see both doors and the single window between them. Sure enough, she saw a tall figure slip past the high window, peering in briefly. He opened the front door a moment later, a man Oscar's height, but so different in appearance it took Jaime a moment to recognize him. He had a new beard, which extended up his cheeks and down his neck in an unkempt, un-Oscar Goldman kind of way. He was wearing dusty old horn rimmed glasses - ones that she had seen him wearing in old pictures in the photo box, and a filthy, loose fitting blue jumpsuit - the kind mechanics wear.
Along with the thrill and relief of seeing him alive and well, and the pure satisfaction of having found him on the slimmest of clues, she registered at that moment what a handsome man Oscar really was, because he was so particularly un-handsome at this moment.
He stood in the doorway, his expression nothing short of horrified. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi...Felix." Jaime replied, with a suggestion of mischief.
Giving Lyle a preemptive "don't ask" glance, he took her by the elbow and hauled her outside, making sure the office door was shut firmly behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded brusquely.
"What am I doing here? I think the bigger question is what are you doing here?" Being highly sensitive to other people's moods, she was getting rattled fast.
"Who's with you?"
"No one is with me. I came on my own."
"I want you to go, right now. You never saw me."
Now she was getting angry. "If you think I have spent all this time tracking you down to leave without so much as a howdy-do from you, you have another -"
"You're sure you're alone?" he interrupted, glancing around.
"Yes!"
Nobody knows you're here? Not Parr, not Russ, Rudy, anybody?"
"Nobody."
"There's no chance you were followed?"
"None!" she replied, offended by the inquisition. "Come on. I'm a well trained professional, remember?"
He exhaled through his nose and looked at her peevishly.
"All right." he snapped. "We can talk for half an hour, but that's it. I've got to finish up a job I've got going, and I'll meet you at my cabin."
He pulled a scrap of paper and pen from his breast pocket. Holding the paper in the palm of his hand, he drew a rough map, poking holes in the paper as he went.
"Get back on the highway going south. Take King's Point road, go right onto Acacia Lane and follow it to the end. You'll know my place by the sign on a tree by the driveway that says Hocksteader. It's open." He jammed the paper into her hand, gave her a baleful look, and turned away.
Lyle peered out at the exchange through the dirty window, scuttling backward as Oscar returned to the office. Planting himself in Oscar's path, he fixed him with a critical gaze.
"Now what kind of guy greets a beautiful woman in that way?"
"I've got work to do, Lyle." Oscar replied tersely as he attempted to pass. His expression was fierce, his face red.
"Y'know, I see this all the time with you footloose guys." Lyle said with a partly philosophical, partly critical air. "You spend your lives running around, avoiding reality, responsibility. But I tell you, one of these days you're gonna get tired of running, and you're going to wish you had family. In fact I would have thought by your age you'd have figured that out by now."
"It's complicated." Oscar snapped.
"That's what you boys always say. You oughta try it. A little responsibility. It would do you some good."
Oscar drew up to his full height, and fixed his boss with a steely glare. "I'll take that under advisement. I'd like to get back to that motor, if you don't mind."
Not for the first time in the week since Felix started work, Lyle felt his authority waver and fall. Despite his nomadic ways (he told Lyle he had spent much of his life working all over Washington state) and apparent lack of ambition, there was something commanding about Felix Hall. Lyle never quite felt like the boss when he was around him. Had he been even remotely insubordinate as an employee, he probably would have fired him. "Sure, sure. Good man." he murmured, and stepped out of his way.
Jaime found the place easily, though navigating the heavily rutted dirt lane down to the cabin proved to be somewhat hair raising. As soon as she stepped out of the car the world was transformed into something better. It was so perfectly serene. The wooden cabin was a simple structure with a screened in porch, painted dark brown. It was nestled comfortably among the tall ponderosa pines, which made a hushed rushing noise in the breeze that swept overhead. The big lake was rough and blue, the shore about thirty feet beyond the porch, tantalizing through the trees. Perhaps best of all was the vivid smell of pine needles and dry grass that scented the crystal air. What to do first - go down to the lake or look in the cabin? She quickly decided on the latter, her natural nosiness getting the better of her. She passed through the porch, the screen door slapping behind her, and into the dark interior. There was a small and somewhat primitive kitchen, furnished with appliances built in the fifties, that lead a living room with high ceilings, bare wood walls, and stone fireplace with a poorly painted portrait of an Indian chief hanging above it. It smelled pleasantly of woodsmoke. Again, most of the furnishings looked as though they had been placed there sometime between the thirties and the fifties. Oscar's presence was easily discerned. There were some books and newspapers in neat piles around a comfortable chair by the fire, a sweater slung over the arm - but that was it. The rest of his life was back in Washington. She peered into the bedroom (separated from the living room by a curtain) and found his bed, neatly made, and more books stacked on an orange crate that served as an end table. Amongst the shirts and khakis hanging in the makeshift closet was a single dark gray three piece suit - her favorite.
Back outside again, she followed the dirt path which lead from the back porch to a broad, horseshoe shaped pebble beach, and an old dock that was almost completely drifted over by rocks. Green, red, gold, the pebbles were beautifully colored and mostly flat - perfect for skipping. She tried out one or two, but the rough water subdued the stones after two or three skips. Given some calm water, she could achieve minor rock skipping miracles with that bionic arm. Before long she settled at the edge of the dock, her feet dangling a few inches above the shallow water, the cool lapping calming her mind. Somehow the ache in her tooth diminished and the frosty reception she had received from Oscar seemed less upsetting. She couldn't even bring herself to worry about Kevin Melnyck. She must have been there better part of the hour, staring at the view, inhaling the vast open Montana air, the smell of clean water, and she thought she might like to stay there in that moment forever, and simply suspend this crazy business of trying to figure out one's friends and one's life. She was startled from her reverie by the sound of the screen door slapping behind her. Either the NSB was about to swoop down on her, or Oscar was home. She made her way up to the cabin, coming face to face with him at the screen door. She had never seen him looking more ill tempered.
"How the hell did you find me?"
"Hello Oscar. I'm glad to see you too."
He sighed darkly and beckoned her in. "How?" he demanded.
Though she was offended by his tone, she decided there was nothing to be achieved by questioning his manners. "One of your three atlases. A little ballpoint pen dot right here on Flathead lake." She couldn't help but be proud of herself for finding him, and under different circumstances, he would have been proud of her too. She decided not to mention the "Somers" connection.
"God damn it, I trained you too well." He shook his head in frustration. "Where's the NSB?"
They're looking for Olivier Gomez in Buenos..."
"Why do I even bother to ask?" he interrupted, "I'm sure they'll be here any minute, thanks to you."
"No they won't." Jaime replied indignantly, stung again by the insult to her professionalism. "If they find you it's because they'll decide the name 'Olivier Gomez' is so obvious."
"I know what I'm doing. Bill Parr couldn't find the lint in his own navel if he wasn't told where to look. Besides, I sent a second trail to Australia as back up." Again he fixed her with a hostile stare as they passed into the living room. "But I'm sure they're keeping a very close eye on you right now."
"They think I'm in Dubai. Russ helped me - but even he doesn't know where I am."
This failed to appease him. He paced the perimeter of the room, looking as agitated as she had ever seen him, gripping the back of his neck with one hand, while she stood uneasily in the center. He stopped in front of her, his eyes dark with anger, his chin jutting.
"My last order as the Director of the OSI and you couldn't just do me the favor of following it? For once?"
Under normal circumstances, Jaime knew Oscar found it difficult to be truly angry with her. His shouts had a hollow ring to them and his reproofs were tentative. Not this time. She was caught between two impulses - fight or flight. Already hurt and quickly becoming furious, she decided on the former.
"Not when it's an order like that!" she replied, her voice sounding injured and wobbly. "You can't just choose to fall off the face of the earth, you know. You of all people. You could have been kidnapped, for all we knew - "
"Kidnapped!" Oscar scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Or you could have had a break down!" Jaime continued angrily, "and there's always the possibility that if the wrong people find out you're hiding out in Montana they'll come and get you! Everybody is worried sick! Russ, Callahan - Rudy was almost in tears when I spoke to him."
"Ah!" Oscar waved his hand dismissively. "Rudy always gets fussy over change. Bring in new office chairs and he can't think straight for a week!"
"You're his best friend! How can you be so callous? This is not the behavior of the Oscar Goldman I know."
"It was for the best."
"The best?!" she repeated incredulously, spitting out the words. "I don't understand - the OSI is your life, your baby - and then you just up and disappear?"
"Jaime, I find it a little ironic that you of all people is saying this to me."
"Well, maybe it is, but I would never have abandoned everyone who cares about me without a word!"
"Well let me explain it to you then." he replied, hands on his hips. "Sure, the OSI is my baby, and that makes me everybody's Daddy." He spat out the last word. "And Daddy's supposed to fix everything and have all the answers, and be infinitely patient and tolerant and understanding. And when I somehow fail to be all these things, then suddenly I'm the goat. Incompetent, stupid, traitorous, take your pick! You live under that pressure and see how long you last! Well, it's time for the fledglings to leave the nest. I'm not looking after anybody anymore."
The truth of his words struck her and she found herself reaching for his arm as a gesture of acknowledgement. He backed away.
"You especially. I don't like playing Daddy to you - to your rebellious teenager routine. I hate being put in that role. Hate it, do you understand me?"
"What?!" Jaime spluttered. "I have never put you in that role. If you're talking about my attempted retirement, I was just trying to get my own life back, and if that's being a rebellious teenager, then so be it! How dare you?!" Even as the words left her mouth she wondered if he might have a point.
"And while we're on the subject of you," he said, looking even angrier - if that were possible, "if you want this so-called "normal" life you keep talking about, you are going to have to stop rescuing people!"
"What?!" she spluttered again, "What are you talking about?"
"You're here to rescue me."
"What? What are you...? I wanted to know what happened to you!"
"It's not the OSI that wore you out, Jaime. It's you."
"I beg your pardon?!" A hot anger flooded her brain. "YOU'RE the one who gave me every assignment under the sun. YOU overworked me. Badly!"
"Yes I did." he admitted, though his tone didn't suggest much of a concession. "But almost every single time I tried to pull you out of some dangerous situation, you'd resist - because you had to go save someone! Chris Stuart - pretending to be your mother - I bet you still write to her, don't you? Or Lisa Galloway - have you visited her lately? And there are dozens more shady characters in your roster of humanitarian projects - people you tried to fix and and save and so that everything would be happy and shiny. Sometimes life doesn't work that way, and you ought to know that by now."
"You're a fine one to be telling me this! I may try to save the occasional individual, but you're the one who has to save the whole damned world all the time."
"Well then I know what I'm talking about, don't I?" he answered peevishly. Jaime registered a slight shake in his hand as he gestured.
"This is ridiculous." she fumed. "Why are we talking about me when it's you who is currently the fugitive?"
"Jaime, I didn't tell you my plans - on purpose. I didn't want you trying to fix everything for me. I also figured if you were serious about your 'normal' new life, you wouldn't go running after your almost ex-boss. And what do you know? Here you are."
"You are a lot more than a boss to me!"
"Did anyone else feel compelled to - I assume - spend days going through my personal belongings so that they could hunt me down? Callahan? Rudy?"
"Oscar!" she blurted, feeling pinned.
"Russ didn't ask you to come, did he?"
"I came because I care about you!"
"Did he?!" Jaime grit her teeth and didn't answer. "I know you care." Oscar continued. "But you didn't want to get on that plane, did you? The whole idea made you feel tired. I bet you even felt angry at me. And now you've got some substitute installed in your classroom, don't you? Just because you can't resist a crisis."
"You make it sound like a criminal act." she protested, the injustice of his accusations causing her eyes to sting.
"What do you think the NSB is going to do to me anyway? At worst they'll drag me back to Washington in handcuffs and then I'll have the infinite pleasure of suing them from hell to breakfast! And what's really going to happen is that in a month the Secretary will ask Bill Parr why he's wasting resources hunting a guy who hasn't done anything wrong, and they'll stop. And it will all be over - WITHOUT your angelic intervention."
She resisted the urge to bleat out a limp protest. She sat down, feeling badly shaken. "I was truly worried. I don't know what those people will do. Russ was worried too, you know. He thinks you should be protected."
"Anonymity is the only protection I want, and you have likely ruined it for me. When one person knows your secret, it's not a secret anymore."
He let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, disappeared into the kitchen and to her surprise, returned with two beers, and handed one to her. It seemed like some sort of reluctant peace offering, though he still looked furious. The veins in his neck were standing out and his forehead was red. She didn't really want a beer, but somehow she couldn't refuse. Perhaps she was afraid he would tear another strip off her.
"If you really wanted to quit the OSI so you could 'find yourself' you'd better start looking a little harder." He walked to the fireplace and leaned heavily against the mantle. "If you think you're going to be happy in a classroom from nine to three every day, living some kind of dull domestic dream behind your little white picket fence, you're wrong."
Nothing made her madder than being patronized - and that was exactly what he was doing. "So which is it Oscar? Since you seem to have me all figured out." she said hotly, glaring at him, "Rebellious teenager or pathological rescuer? I don't see how I can be both."
"Why don't you think about it? Maybe you'll figure it out." he taunted.
"WHY ARE YOU SO MAD AT ME?!" she yelled.
"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME!" He slammed his fist on the mantelpiece.
"Call me a sentimental fool, but I thought you might be glad to see me!"
He glared at her a moment."All right." he said hotly. "You want to know why? You really want to know?"
"Of course I want to know!"
"It's so obvious, Jaime. In Ojai I told you I loved you, but that's not the whole truth. I am IN love with you. I've been in love with you for years, and when you're in love with someone and they don't love you back, finally you get a little pissed off about it. It's not fair, I know, but it's human nature. I can't help it. You weren't even supposed to know."
His words left her light headed and gasping for air - and entirely unable to make an adequate response. A declaration of love from an angry man is a confusing thing. "Who says I don't..."
"Don't try platitudes!" Oscar warned, waving his finger at her. "Just pack up your little life preserver and go home to that luncheon meat boyfriend of yours!"
"Luncheon meat?!" she said incredulously. She couldn't begin to know what emotion was on top of the pile. She was indignant, she was touched, she was rattled, her heart was pounding. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Luncheon meat." he repeated, as though it should be self evident. "Take it off the menu and nobody notices. You sure know how to pick 'em, Jaime. Year after year I've watched you get enamored with one nincompoop after another. And I'm not talking about Steve. And THEN what do you do? You land on Chris Williams - mediocrity personified! He'll get a gold watch after he retires and everyone will have forgotten him the next day."
"What a horrible thing to say! This is not you saying this!"
"Oh, it's me all right. Just being honest for a change."
"Well that is not fair!" Jaime cried, feeling defensive of Chris and every other man she'd dated in the last three years. "Apparently I can't do anything right!" And then she added, "You're just JEALOUS!"
"Of course I'm jealous!"
"Well what am I supposed to do, Oscar? You know damned well that you could have made a move a hundred times over - We've been flirting with each other for years!" She had lost count of the times he had looked at her adoringly, glimmering with sexual longing - and she was sure she had returned the compliment (he had an incredible allure when he put his mind to it) but nothing ever, ever came of it. And then he would shut it down so fast she would wonder if she had imagined it.
"I couldn't! You know I couldn't!"
"Well, neither could I! So what do you want me to do - join a convent? For real? For heaven's sake, Oscar!"
"YES!" he bellowed.
Jaime raised her arms in the air in sheer frustration and dropped them again with a heavy sigh. "This is ridiculous. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."
"I told you it wasn't fair." he said, slumping onto the ancient couch and covering his eyes with his hand. They sat silent, both shocked at what was easily the most forceful confrontation they had ever had.
"You were not in this state the last time I saw you. What the hell happened to you?" she asked indignantly.
"After you decided to come back," he replied, his eyes dark and still far from friendly, "and we were sitting in Renshaw's office, negotiating the conditions of your return, you said 'My work for the OSI is primarily negative' and that hit me like a ton of bricks. The work I've dedicated my life to is a negative to you. That means I'm a negative to you. And here I've always been under the impression that we've done great and important work together, and not only that, you've always made me happy. Somehow everything was better when you were around, and that remark devastated me."
"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't..."
"You did mean it."
"No, that's not what I was going to say. Absolutely the last thing I wanted to do was to hurt you. We have done great work and you make me happy too - if you want to know the truth when I go on missions most of the time I'm not doing it for the American government, I'm doing it for you. Because I can't bear to let you down."
This stopped him for a moment. He blinked hard and looked down. "Well, problem is I realized you were right - despite all that warm fuzzy crap Renshaw spouted about how you remind us that we're human - the plain fact was that the people I work for would throw you into a zoo for the rest of your life - you - and it made me wonder what I'd been doing for the last thirty years, working in this sick system - supporting it - when it was ultimately cold, self serving, stupid."
"Is that when you decided to get out?" Her words were quiet and careful, but her mind was racing. She was gripping the neck of the beer bottle as though she intended to throttle it. Was she really the reason he left?
"But worst of all," he added, almost as though he hadn't heard her, "at the same time I realized that being who I am...having believed the work was so important... I've driven everyone too hard. I burn out all the people I care about. That's one of the reasons I left without telling anybody. I figured they would be relieved. Hell, I came out of my office one day, and heard Callahan mutter "slave driver" into the phone, and then turn bright red when she saw me. Russ got walking pneumonia and had to take a week off. It nearly killed me to give him a week off. And then I topped it off by having a stupid and unnecessary argument with Rudy about the price of the computer chips he had ordered. And then... there was you." He scratched his head roughly.
She didn't know how to address this, as it was in some part true.
"So, my life...I don't know what to make of my life."
"You can't look at it that way!"
Her words seemed to yank him out of his introspective reverie. "I'm not going to do this with you!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. "I'm not going to sit here and have a heart to heart with you. You are not going to fix me up and set me back on the right path! I don't want you to be here, don't you understand? For chrissakes, would you just go? Fix your own life, will you? And let me live mine! Go!"
It was quite clear he meant what he said. "Okay." she whispered, feeling winded, nodding hard as though to reinforce her will to comply.