A/N: Hey all, I'm so sorry that I'm only updating now. March has been a crazy month. One of my best friends was involved in a car accident at the beginning of the month, it was my brother's birthday a couple of days ago. And in-between, I'm a law student with an array of assignments and readings to do. I hope you didn't think I forgot about this story. I will try to have chapter 4 up sooner than this. I'm still not sure about the title of this chapter, but I couldn't think of something cooler. I do apologise if some of the details (especially towards the end) don't make any sense, it will become clearer by the next chapter. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter 3: Road Blocks and Ski Masks
The night dragged on after the emotional turmoil which I had endured during the daylight. It was good to be back in my suite, to cleanse myself of the tortured memories of the void in my chest. I knew I could never fill the void again, but living in itself became my new assignment, my new challenge. I knew I couldn't sleep tonight; it was the only way to keep the nightmares at bay. So I waited for Maddie (lying beside me in my bed) to fall asleep first. For a minute I envied her tranquil face. It must be nice to dream of Honor Roll, Pulitzer prizes or maybe just being rich. I could dream the same things if I wanted to, except the being rich part. God, I wish I was dumb.
But I'm not. Just because no one else knew that didn't make it any less true. So I did the smart thing by feigning sleep initially. It wasn't long before Maddie begun snoring, thinking she was following in my footsteps. It was 1am and I tiptoed to my dining room table, carrying the precious file. I put my reading glasses on and began studying Reuben Marshall's file compiled by Brandy. Within an hour, I had photocopied the entire thing, highlighted important bits and made some notes of my own.
Reuben Marshall, Caucasian male, 29 years old. Born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. Completed high school and received his diploma. Moved to Boston at the age of 18. Did a series of odd jobs: bell-hop, tele-marketer, black-jack dealer. His first encounter with Optimum was at the age of 21, running errands for Alexei Novak. Worked his way through the organization, Novak finally entrusting him with more responsibility entailing the running of Opium's offshore holdings in South East Asia. First became acquainted with Laurent Savoy, another new comer to the drug trade in Beijing some four years ago, a former financial consultant. The two have worked closely together under the close supervision of Novak, Curtis Owen and Maxwell Kline, the so-called Trinity of the organization. Expected promotion of Savoy in the near future of Opium's interests along the East Coast.
And with that, I spent another hour typing up my report for Omar, detailing Brandy's synopsis of the situation as well as my own commentary on the situation as it stood. By 4am I had finally settled into a dreamless sleep, a nice change of pace. At 9am I found myself once again at DEMON's headquarters, presenting my findings to my superiors. I ignored most of Eleanor's non-verbal cues regarding my near melt-down during debriefing. But I left the meeting feeling slightly warmer towards Eleanor and all was forgiven. She was just doing her job, I really needed to keep my emotions in check. No matter what, the job came first.
But not today. Most of the DEMON agents were in the field scouring the city for Reuben Marshall save for myself. My part in the mission would come towards the end, Omar had reassured confidently. So I had to keep my cell phone on me at all times for when that special text message came through. For the afternoon, I contented myself with a swim. Moseby always made sure that the Tipton's pool on the roof was available for me alone whenever I had need of it. And I really do mean anytime. I once went through a period of intense insomnia and decided to take a swim at 3 in the morning. Needless to say, Moseby took care of it.
I sighed in contentment when I stepped towards the pool. A set of towels and bathrobe had been placed on a deckchair just for me. I cautiously tested the water with my big toe, relishing the sudden warmth coursing through my foot. The pool was set to the ideal temperature - 37°C. And that was only one person's doing: Lance. He was not too far from me, fishing a few stray leaves out of the pool with a net. It's funny that I didn't notice him standing there all along when I first arrived. I guess I was just used to his union with the pool and all things related to the Tipton that I barely noticed anymore how much he blended into the surroundings.
Lance greeted me with a small smile and continued his work while I slipped out of my bathrobe. I noticed an approving smirk playing on his mouth out of the corner of my eye at my skimpy red bikini and I smiled inwardly. I often marveled at how the guy who had dumped me a lifetime ago could still look at me occasionally like he still had a major boner for me. Sometimes I really can't figure Lance Fishman out. For a simple guy, he surer was mysterious. "Hey Lance," I greeted finally, feeling strangely happy to see him. "Hey yourself London. You've been a stranger around these parts," Lance greeted in a knowing drawl. "Who's been taking up your precious pool time?" Lance teased casually, grinning from ear to ear. "No one important, I assure you. I figured I'd do some laps this morning before my cell phone starts ringing incessantly." I answered simply with a small smile. "How's the water temperature for you?" Lance inquired seriously. "It's just right, room temperature?" I asked curiously. "Hmm, give or take 0.7°C." Lance answered easily. "I assume you took the liberty of checking the pH balance as well?" I countered, pursing my lips slightly. "Naturally. It's 7." Lance responded with a triumphant smirk. "Exactly?" I questioned skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Exactly. The new filter I installed a month ago is extremely conducive to outdoor conditions." Lance replied nonchalantly. My face relaxed and I smiled once again. "I'll say it again Lance. Moseby would be hard pressed to find an employee as dedicated to their job as you are." I stated sincerely. "Well, it's not hard to do. Mr. Moseby's a great boss. And I like it here at the Tipton. I get to be close to all the things that I love." Lance answered with strange intensity, his eyes locked on mine. There he goes again, I thought to myself while inhaling a mouthful of air back into my lungs, trying to taser me with his mixed signals. I managed an expression that was half smiling and half blushing.
Lance was clearly finished cleaning the pool's surface. He leant on the end of the pool net comfortably, a pensive expression on his face. "I'm glad to see you smiling. I know it's been a rough week for you," Lance stated seriously, his smile dropping. When I continued to stare at him in confusion, he elaborated. "Maddie texted me this morning. She told me this was the week when Brandy passed away a year ago. I'm really sorry London." Lance explained ruefully, sounding like he really meant it. Curse Maddie, when had she even gotten time to text Lance this morning?! I felt strangely sensitive about other people outside of my inner circle knowing about Brandy's death and the turmoil it inspired inside of me. Not that people like Portia or Chelsea were exactly sensitive about my pain; they acted like Brandy had gone into exile in a foreign country. But for the moment, my annoyance towards Maddie was quelled when I saw Lance's warm brown eyes fixed on me with understanding, not pity.
"Yeah, yesterday really sucked. But I'm feeling a lot better today. I appreciate your concern Lance, thank you." I responded with forced calm, feeling slightly better. "I just wanted to say that if you wanna talk, I'm here. My grandpa died a year ago too. I understand how hard it is when you lose someone you really love. Someone who you can't imagine not being in your life forever" Lance stated seriously. Now I was stunned. "Grandpa Fishman?" I spluttered in alarm. "Was it his heart? But I thought he had a transplant?" I asked in bewilderment. "He did, but his body just didn't take to the new heart. His vital organs collapsed a few days after the surgery." Lance explained soberly. "Lance, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I know how close you were to your grandpa." I responded sincerely, touching his hand for a moment. "It's okay London, I understand. You were going through your own stuff. He had a long full life and it was his time. It wasn't like with Brandy. She was young; she had her whole life ahead of her. She didn't have to die the way she did." Lance answered quietly. Again, there was that understanding on Lance's part, as if he were in on the secret too. It unnerved and intrigued me all at once.
You're right about that. It's tough when you lose someone you love. I guess you just have to compartmentalize it and carry on day by day." I responded calmly. "That's true," Lance agreed softly. "You've got a busy week ahead of you." There it was again, that undercurrent of omniscient presumption. Lance's words hadn't been a question, it was a statement. "A very busy week – I'm not quite sure how it will end." I admitted quietly. "Well as I always say, you end up exactly where you're supposed to be." Lance concluded in a chipper tone. I'd had about enough of this cryptic conversation. So I shook my head laughingly and dove gracefully into the pool. And there I remained for a few seconds, completely submerged beneath the water's surface. All I could see was Lance's face cutting across the surface in ripples of mysterious delight.
All week long I waited for news about Reuben Marshall. Eleanor had told me to stay incognito in the city and await instructions. That meant I was in on the plan to capture and detain Marshall in one way or the other. But that also meant no spontaneous shopping sprees across the globe and sitting around waiting for a signal which could come at any time? Did I mention that this job was not only thankless sometimes, but that alcohol was a prerequisite for such occasions? So while I waited, I did what any girl my age would do to alleviate the stress: call my girlfriends over and have a slumber party.
The party so to speak, began earlier than I had actually intended. But in hindsight, I do believe the timing had been perfect. It was 2pm on a Friday afternoon. The girls (Maddie, Corrie and Mary-Margaret) and I had just returned from a shopping spree a boutique downtown. Since they were all working class girls, I generously splurged on my credit card and treated them to an array of clothing, shoes and accessories that I was regularly accustomed to. We returned to my suite and were now in the process of enjoying a series of facials and hot-stone massages. "Thanks again for doing this London. I'm having a great time so far," Maddie thanked me sincerely with a broad smile on her face. "Yeah London, I just love these shoes you bought me. I just got a new puppy, can I name it after you?" Corrie squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. "No, you may not name some mangy mutt after me!" I exclaimed reproachfully. "Knock it off Corrie, we don't want a repeat of the restraining order. I can keep this manicure set yes?" Mary-Margaret demanded imperiously. "Knock yourself out," I replied with a dismissive wave of my hand. "Of course not. Besides, that was a misunderstanding. I was sleepwalking, that's how I ended up in London's bed in the middle of the night." Corrie explained feebly. Maddie, Mary and I gazed at one another, all clearly thinking the same thing: bullshit.
And that's when my cell phone rang. I had been expecting the phone call all along and somehow it still surprised me. "Uh London, what caller would you actually identify with a Powerpuff Girls' ringtone?" Maddie asked me quizzically. So much for being inconspicuous. All of them were now looking at me expectantly. In all my preparation for the mission, I had completely forgotten to come up with a plausible reason for making a quick exit, especially if I had company when the call came through. Oh shit, say something already. I've lied about enormous secrets like nuclear reactors, human trafficking and insider trading. Why can't I come up with a teensie alibi? "London?" Mary asked me in a concerned tone. "Uh, I set the Powerpuff Girls theme song for my, uh, favourite boutique in the Tri-State area, Trés Bliss. Yeah, I have them on speed dial." I explained quickly. "But why are they calling you?" Corrie asked curiously. Because they want me to come retrieve Reuben Marshall from one of their dressing rooms. "Because uh, Molly, the uh owner gave me really hot tip on a pair of boots I've been dying to get from them for months. And they've finally arrived. So I'm really sorry to skip out early on the slumber party, but I've gotta go get them now. Buh-bye." I greeted silkily.
"Now wait a minute, why don't we all come with you?" Corrie suggested pleasantly. "Say what?" I squeaked involuntarily. "Well, I love going window shopping and I'd love to see the boots you're getting. I'm sure they're fabulous. We should all go!" Corrie announced while clapping her hands together. "No!" I exclaimed passionately. "No?" Maddie and Mary asked with frowns on their faces. "No, don't come with me. Uh, stay here and relax, eat a cucumber. You won't enjoy it, there'll be a lot of snooty uptight middle-aged women crowding the boutique to get their hands on those boots. In fact, I've got a score to settle with this socialite who's after my boots. It could get ugly. Remember the Prada Belt episode?" I asked delicately. "Uh-uh, I'm out. I'm not getting punched in the face again." Maddie answered sternly while Corrie and Mary gazed at me in horror. "Yeah, that's cool, you go ahead London. Besides, the masseuse is on her way up. Go nuts." Mary encouraged briskly, waving me off. "Oh don't worry, I will." I assured them with a smile. As I hurried out the door, I heard Corrie yell 'Don't forget your pepper spray!'.
Luckily I stashed an extra set of clothes for the mission. I entered the lone broom closet on the 25th floor and changed swiftly into blue jeans, high heels, a decorated tank top and a vintage trench coat. I hopped into my own car, a black BMW 7-series model. As I stopped at a red light, I scanned my cellphone yet again. A text message had come through after the missed call. It read: 'Harlot's, 15:15.' I arrived at my destination downtown 20 minutes later and parked my car near a parking meter. I then crossed the street swiftly. I came across two men dressed in casual attire and sunglasses sitting in a parked car. I then opened the door of the car and sat down in the back seat. "You made it to the party. I guess Omar likes you after all." Alec teased with a small smile while glancing back at me. The man sitting next to him at the steering wheel was another agent named Mark Oldman. "Or not. What's my assignment this time? Undercover Whore?" I asked glibly. "Something like that," Mark replied nonchalantly. "You run a small escort agency that Marshall's interested in. You're Madame Heidi." Alec explained. "You've gotta be kidding me. I take serious issue with strip clubs." I answered dryly, referring to Harlot's. "Hey, it's a profitable business. Strippers are individuals too. It's actually quite tasteful for the most part." Mark responded matter-of-factly. "Say that again when we go undercover at a Chippendales concert." I muttered sarcastically, which made both Alec and Mark chuckle.
"Time to do your magic Heidi," Mark announced briskly. It had been 45 minutes already. "Do your worst," Alec encouraged. "Always do," I murmured, getting out of Mark's car and shutting the door with a loud slam. I placed my hands into the pockets of my overcoat as I walked purposefully towards my destination. The smell of stale tobacco, sweat and cheap liquor flooded my nostrils as soon as I pushed the heavy wooden door open. The interior design matched that of a stereotypical strip club: a stage immersed in fluorescent light, a steel bar at its centre, a woman grinding against it with mechanical eroticism. Circular tables lay scattered across the large room, each one bathed in a fading and dull red light. Reuben Marshall, my target, occupied a table closest to the stage and was clapping enthusiastically. Typical Neanderthal behaviour, I thought wearily to myself as I came to stand before him.
"Big Daddy?" I asked with demure relish. Big Daddy? Could this guy be more unimaginative? "Who's asking?" Reuben asked impatiently, not taking his eyes off of the stage. "Heidi." I answered calmly without flinching. "Well in that case, pull up a chair." Reuben offered, turning to me with an indulgent smile. I obediently took the seat next to him. "Aren't you kinda young to be in this business?" Reuben asked me in confusion while giving me the once over. "I got an early promotion." I replied airily which made him chuckle. "I like you, you're funny. What do you think of the talent?" Reuben asked me casually, waving his hand at the stage. "Not bad, but I'm pretty sure I can offer you a better time with one of my girls. Why don't we talk outside in the alley?" I implored. "What's wrong with talking in here? Have you got something against strip clubs?" Reuben questioned me suspiciously. "Of course not. But like my business, I prefer unpretentious intimacy. Plus, the red light bothers my corneas." I responded in an off-hand way. "Okay, okay. Wouldn't wanna offend your corneas." Reuben answered quickly, getting to his feet.
A few seconds later, I was standing with Reuben a few feet away from Harlot's backdoor, the street just around the corner. For a few minutes I blustered bullshit into his enthusiastic ears and made myself as convincing as possible. By the end of it, Reuben would've gladly followed me in handcuffs, well almost. "Alright, I'm sold. How 'bout giving me a business card or something?" Reuben demanded impatiently, getting restless. "I'll do one better. How about a private session?" I asked seductively. "Freeze, put your hands up!" someone bellowed directly behind us. Reuben jumped out of his skin at Mark standing behind him, pointing a gun at his head. He must've come through the strip club too. In a few seconds, we were completely surrounded by other agents, Alec standing beside me. "What the hell is this? Who the hell are you?" Reuben demanded indignantly, rounding on me immediately. "Sorry Reuben, but you've been punk'd." I remarked with a devilish grin. "CIA, DEMON division." I answered curtly, flashing my badge at him rapidly. "Son of a bitch," Reuben muttered angrily, knowing full well what that meant. "Aren't you too young for this shit?" he spat indignantly while I handcuffed him. "Maybe. But I just love playing dress up." I responded sarcastically while another agent covered Reuben's head with a balaclava which covered the eyes as well.
One of DEMON's SUV's by this time had reversed into the alley. I climbed into the back seat with Alec and the prisoner and we drove off. The remaining agents were piled in identical SUV's, all going in different directions in case anyone was following us. Our SUV was heading directly to a holding facility used exclusively by DEMON on the outskirts of the city. Hopefully over a few days of intensive interrogation, Marshall might just be oiled up enough to start singing. I was just contemplating whether I should bring out the numb-chucks just to mess with him when I felt the tires beneath the vehicle scrape against the gravel sharply, as if they had been slashed. My forehead collided violently with the head rest in front of me, disorienting me slightly. I hadn't even felt the van spin haphazardly all the while, Mark frantically trying not to hit anything in the road. Finally, the car came to a standstill.
"Is everyone okay?" Mark asked quickly. Alec and I had managed to get Reuben out of the car, still handcuffed and his vision impaired. "Yeah," Alec grumbled, wincing while he rubbed the side of his head. But Alec and I seemed to have only suffered minor bumps on the head. Mark and Jade, another agent accompanying us had clearly crashed into the windscreen, blood spurting uncontrollably from their foreheads. I don't think Reuben was hurt at all, but he was issuing out streams of profanities from under his balaclava. "Shit, are you guys okay?" I asked in alarm, scanning Jade's forehead. "It's just a little scratch," she answered dismissively. And that's when Alec noticed the tires. "Son of a bitch. Someone's laid down spikes in the road. That's what we drove over," he mused disbelievingly, gazing at the metal spikes a few meters away. "Look at the road, it's been sectioned off," Mark added, staring straight ahead. Sure enough, there were orange beacons in the form of a road block demarcating the entire lane. "What the hell is this?" I asked softly to no one in particular.
Without warning, Mark suffered a blow to the back of his head with the butt of a gun. Before I had time to respond, the same was done to Jade and she collapsed onto the ground. We were completely surrounded by men in black jumpers and ski masks. Instinctively, Alec and I positioned ourselves near the prisoner. But Alec too got hit in the back of the head and was thrown to the ground. Maybe it was because I was struggling so much that I wasn't rendered unconscious too. Instead, my assailant shoved my cheek down hard into the gravel while pinning my hands behind my back. "Hey man, go easy. We're here to do a job," a man's voice warned indignantly above my head. "Sorry, had to. She's a wily one," my assailant replied unabashedly. "I know that. But no permanent scarring okay? Let's get out of here before DEMON's back up arrives. Take the prisoner," the former voice commanded rapidly. "Go ahead so long. I've gotta make a quick stop at my locker," he added casually. While my fellow agents lay sprawled before me, I watched in horror as four masked men dragged Reuben Marshall away and threw him into a car not unlike our own. The guy who had shoved me down headed west with his two accomplices outside of the city with Marshall while the other left in a different direction, heading east back towards downtown Boston. I got to my feet and roused my fellow agents. All the while, my hands were trembling. That voice, the one who had told the other to go easy on me had been surprisingly calm and breezy, like a surfer approaching an ocean swirl at the approach of dawn. A voice as cool and soothing as water. I knew that drawl, I knew that voice…
By this time back up had already arrived while Alec, Mark and Jade bombarded me with questions. I told them what I had seen of the four masked men and which direction they went, but kept my knowledge of the former's voice to myself. "We were set up, the spikes, the road block, everything. But who would want Reuben Marshall more than us or OPIUM?" Mark asked of the group. I was restless, my foot tapping violently while my brain churned. "London, are you okay? You look pale." Jade noted in a concerned voice. "I'm fine, I just…" I stammered right before I made up my mind. "I have to leave," I announced abruptly. "What for? You have to stay here, it's protocol." Alec replied sternly. "Screw protocol, I have to get back to the city. Omar can fire me later." I spat impatiently and hijacked our van and drove away.
I was in deep shit and I knew it. I had seriously broken protocol by not remaining on the scene with my fellow agents. At least I hadn't left them stranded. I'd consider myself lucky if both Eleanor and Omar stopped short of putting their boots up my ass. As I drove, I considered the possibility that I'd gone insane. Too many assignments in the field had addled my brains. I was going on a hunch and somehow I trusted it more than myself. If I used my extensive knowledge of every short cut and back alley in Boston, I could get back in time. I had to know for certain.
I found myself back at the Tipton, the setting feeling strangely unfamiliar. I ignored Moseby's look of concern from the manager's desk, I felt like I was in a trance. I tapped the shoulder of a Tipton waiter leaving the personnel entrance for hotel staff only. "Has anybody checked into the employee locker room in the last few minutes?" I enquired politely. "No Ms. Tipton, I've just been there myself," the waiter answered calmly. Excellent, I was right on time. Using my Tipton card key (which had access to every door in the hotel), I opened the door swiftly. I took up position behind a marble pillar and waited, holding my gun behind my back. Right then and there I hoped to God I was right. I was rewarded 5 minutes later when I heard the door open softly. He entered the room quietly and unabashedly. He was already wearing his Tipton uniform, but he had a sports bag in his hand. His usually wavy hair was slightly flattened on the sides by the cheeks. He opened his locker with a loud clang, revealing a few hangers on the inside. He opened his sports bag and voila! Out came the black jumper and ski mask. That was my cue.
Within half a second I was standing behind him, the smooth metal of my gun pushed into the back of his head. "I just have two questions," I began quietly. He remained frozen to the spot, his entire posture stiff with anticipation. "What is your real name?" I asked him calmly. "Lance Oswald Fishman," he replied nonchalantly in his usual drawl. "Who do you work for?" I demanded, my self-control gradually unraveling. With that he turned to face me. I still had the gun pointed at him, this time to his forehead. "HALO," was all he said, a blank expression on his face. Holy shit, he's one of them…
A/N: And cue 'The Imperial March' (Darth Vader's theme). I'm sorry that I left the ending both confusing and cryptic, done for dramatic effect. It will become clear in chapter 4, which I hope to finish soon. Please review and let me know what you think. Cheerio!