Chapter 7 The Vacation

With a weary sigh Birkhoff checked his surroundings again, thankful for the darkness cloaking him and filling him with grim determination. Shrugging off a shiver, he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets and squinted into the distance, studying how the lights threw a pleasant golden glow upon the dark grass. Looking up at the chimney, he tried imagining the warmth of the fire inside and sniffed the air. The tang of wood smoke was strangely inviting, making him glad to be out of the city. As he glanced around at the forest that hid him and out across the clearing he realized how many years it had been since he'd been in these kinds of surroundings. The large garden lying along the south side of the house was still bearing pumpkins and winter squash, and he had to admit there was a certain charm to rural life. But he couldn't really imagine himself living like this, though it would sure beat living in his dungeon lab at Division or the noisy studio apartment he called home.

He heard the sound of the door banging open and stiffened as he surged back under cover, pressing against the trunk of the tree. He watched a dark silhouette move out onto the porch, his heart pounding as he watched him walk slowly down its length before stopping to look up at the sky. A tiny orange light glowed before smoke curled up from it, surprising Birkhoff at the one detail he'd forgotten.

Dad smokes cigars… He narrowed his gaze as anger and bitterness whirled within him, though he was tempted to step out into the moonlight and reveal himself. But it was too soon. He didn't know if it was safe yet, even though he'd been watching the house for three days now. He'd done his research back in his motel room, checking details and reassuring himself that he lived a pretty isolated life here. He had only a few friends where he worked as a chemist at the local agribusiness company. There seemed to be no women involved, not even his sister Angie, whom he'd found no trace of despite searching for her all these years.

Watching him turn and walk back into the house, he exhaled a tense breath and unfisted his hands. Pulling them from his pockets he lifted them to his lips and blew on them to warm them. Despite warm days it got quite cold at night here, and he shivered again. His head pounded from the lack of Red Bull, a severe addiction he'd still not quite freed himself of. Even coffee didn't do much to stave off the daily headaches. As he continued to stare at the house he marveled at the heavy weight of guilt that also still plagued him. Guilt and shame over his misspent youth, pain and bitterness from what they'd done to him. It was time to shake of this other addiction, the one that kept him from peace and any sense of happiness or fulfillment. He had to make it right, even though he'd forgiven them so many times he'd lost count. No, he needed a face to face resolution to settle it once and for all.

Gazing up at the star-strewn sky he felt exhausted, drained and lonely. Too far gone to even appreciate the beauty of the heavens he longed for love and companionship, realizing that he might not ever have them. A ghost of a memory flitted through his mind and he saw Alexandra's smile, tempting him. But he shoved it away, concentrating on the brilliance of the stars which covered the entire canopy of the sky. He was stalling, putting off the unknown and tempted to return to his old reality. But if he did, he knew he'd never really be free to live as he should.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he flexed his feet within his hiking boots, feeling the blood begin to warm his toes again. He knew he couldn't stay out here all night, and he had to get back. He'd already used up a work week traveling in such as way so that no one could trace him, his tracker device successfully blown from the virus he'd programmed into it. It had taken another two long days to do his research and he was ready to face his past. It was a simple plan—he'd just go to the door, knock and speak his peace. Then he'd start back and secure the few loose ends needed to complete his master plan. He'd been planning his escape from Division for years, blueprinting everything in his mind and setting things up to protect himself and the data he'd been managing so faithfully. He'd make a fast, clean break before they even knew he was gone. He just couldn't Percy to destroy everything they were supposed to be working for, which he had already begun to do. Percy led them with a greedy lust for power that no longer supported the ethics he'd been sworn to uphold. Division had to be brought down his way, not Nikita's—any other way just wouldn't be ethical.

Setting his jaw started toward the light, an inner voice laughing at him. Yeah right, you—ethical?

Alex sat in her car waiting and watching, staring up at his darkened windows and wondering where he was. He'd already been gone a week and no one had seen nor heard from him. They'd all assumed he'd stay local, rest and enjoy whatever he seemed to like to do in his spare time, but there was no trace of him anywhere. Even Michael was clueless, but when she'd asked Nikita she'd only shrugged and said "That's Birkhoff."

"So this isn't unusual for him?" she'd questioned her, secretly jealous for their friendship.

"I don't think so, though admittedly he's rarely had any more time off than a couple of days—maybe he went on a cruise," she laughed.

"Very funny," she'd answered. "Though he did say he'd be going far away from Division."

Nikita had laughed cynically. "Can't say I blame him—why? You miss him?"

"Yeah," she'd sighed, "I really do."

Although she'd been very careful not to mope or act as if anything were out of the ordinary with him gone. But in his absence Division was incredibly dull and uninteresting, a lifeless cold existence. When she'd walked into computer class the first day of his vacation their spinster substitute teacher had been back, explaining she'd be filling in for him during his vacation. But there had been no jokes, no fearful jolts with him sticking his head or hand into their exercises, and no emotion whatsoever. It was a cold and sterile environment, and it seemed that the world had lost its energy and light. She wanted him back even though she knew it was selfish to even think that.

Without raising suspicions she'd resorted to hunting him down, and the effort kept her busy and less lonely. She passed by his apartment building as often as she could, looking for signs of him. But he never showed up at the internet café, the bookstore or even the mall though she doubted he'd go there much. Finding no trace of him, she was left with the distinct impression that he'd fallen off the face of the earth, and no one seemed to care. No one but her.

"Ok I've been sitting her for two hours now," she sighed to herself, lifting her eyes from her watch and deciding she needed to get out. Opening her car door she got out, flipped her scarf behind one shoulder and stood facing his building. He was right, it wasn't the greatest neighborhood but it was still daylight. Crossing the street she headed toward it, suddenly remembering something he'd said the night she'd surprised him at his door.

I thought you were the paper boy…

Smiling to herself, she approached the building and glanced around. An old man was shuffling along the sidewalk, a teenage girl was walking her dog and a group of guys was playing basketball in the empty lot at the end of the block. Pulling out her cell phone she stopped, deciding against it yet again. What if someone traced her call? He'd said only Amanda and Percy had his number, which meant they might also have access to his call list. Flipping it open she did an internet search for the subscriptions number for the local newspaper. Jumping when someone whistled and called out a boy's name, she looked up and froze. There was her clue just a few yards away, clutching his paper bag. And he was staring at her.

"You lost, lady?" he cried out to her.

She shook her head, encouraged by the rapt expression on his face. "I came to see a friend, but it looks like he's not home."

He swallowed and smiled up at her, coming closer. "That's too bad—do I know him?"

Trying not to be obvious, she shrugged. "You live around here?"

"Yeah, over in the next block—who's your friend?"

She waved a hand and shut her phone, glancing around as if undecided. "I don't think you'd know him."

"Try me!" he said eagerly, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. "I know a lot of people, especially if they get the paper."

She scrunched her nose, looking undecided. "Isn't telling me an invasion of privacy?"

"Hey, any guy I know that found out you were here looking for him and I didn't help would be upset."

"Really, why do you say that?"

He shrugged. "Cause you're pretty…it's a no-brainer."

She blushed but smiled. "What's your name?"

"Guy—what's yours?"

"Alex…maybe you'll know his name, which is a little different…"

"What is it?"

"Seymour," she smiled. "Seymour Bir—"

"Mr. Birkhoff?" he gaped, taking a step closer. "You're a friend of Mr. Birkhoff's? Now I know he'd be upset if you came to see him and he wasn't here…course he's not home that much."

"You know Seymour?" she gushed. "Really? That's great!"

He nodded. "He gets the paper, at least sometimes, but he keeps canceling it. Still, when I bug him about it he gives in and tries it again for whatever reason. Yeah, he's a great guy! He even gave me his old Game Boy without charging me anything, and he wouldn't take any money for it either!"

She nodded. "That sounds like my friend—then again, how many Seymours could there be?"

He chuckled as she glanced up at his dark windows with a sigh. "I sure wish I knew where he was."

"He didn't cancel his subscription so he's gotta be around. You have a date or something?" he asked quietly, gazing up at her.

"Not yet—I wanted to ask him what he thought about going somewhere…so you haven't seen him?"

He shook his head. "Not lately," he said somewhat dishearteningly. "He checks on me pretty often, so I'd know."

"Checks on you?"

"Yeah," he breathed, glancing away. "Just to see if I'm ok."

"That's nice…so you two are friends."

"Yeah, we are," he said, looking up at her. "I'm pretty busy myself, but if I see him I can tell him you came by."

"That would be great, thanks," she sighed. "Well, I've kept you long enough, Guy—thanks."

He nodded, scrunching up his face. "You his girlfriend?" he asked, looking eager.

She smiled brightly. "I'd like to be."

"Wow…he's nuts if he doesn't let you."

"Why sir, I'm flattered," she said, waving as she turned away. "Thanks for your help, and if you see him tell him Alex is looking for him."

He waved back, watching her closely. "Sure thing…"

He paused in the shadows, leaning against the railing of the porch. The sound of the television switched off, startling him. After a moment he stepped up onto the porch and slowly approached the door, heart pounding. Pursing his lips, he lifted a hand and knocked three times. Listening to the steps inside, he held his breath as they came close. Straightening, he dropped his hands to his sides and fisted them as the door opened. The face before him was considerably older but his gaze was keen as he stared up at him with a puzzled expression which slowly eased toward shock.

"Can…can I help you?" he said quietly, staring at his face in the light from inside.

He wet his lips and found his voice. "Hello, Dad."

He drew back, halting in shock as he squinted and studied his face. His gaze flitting down over him but he stood his ground without expression. But inside his stomach tied in knots as his heart beat frantically.

"No—it can't be!" he choked, shaking his head. "You've got the wrong house—"

"It's me Dad," he repeated. "It's Daniel…can we talk?"

There was a pause. "It can't be—you're…you're dead!"

He shook his head slowly. "Ah no, Dad—I'm not dead…I never was dead."

"But—they showed me the photos! They told me what happened to you, about the beating. Then we had a funeral and buried you!"

"It's all a lie, Dad. They made it up—"

"Your sister and I stood over your grave, and we've mourned you all these years!"

His eyes flooded with hurt and emotion, his throat choking up. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"My Daniel's dead, I tell you!" he cried.

Birkhoff shook his head. "It was a lie, Dad. Why don't you believe me?"

Recognition began to dawn in his father's expression, and anger. "Why would they lie to a father about such a thing, huh? Do you know what we went through, your sister and I—?"

"What about me, Dad?" he choked, stepping closer as he retreated further back inside. "What about the lies you told them about me? Do you know what I went through, having my own father betray me?"

"Seymour—"

"Don't call me that!" he choked, pointing his finger at him as he tried to control his anger. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through? I was 16 when you turned me in to the authorities!"

"You were out of control, son! You didn't even care when I warned you they were watching you! You were turning into somebody I didn't even know anymore! And I couldn't allow you to dishonor your country that way!"

"Everything I did was because of what they did to you, don't you get it?" he choked. "Remember how you were always telling us how badly the government treated you and the other veterans? You were the one denouncing them for making you suffer and scrounge for everything! I did it for you—why can't you see that?"

"All I could see was my son turning into some kind of communist revolutionary! Yes you were still a kid, but you thought you knew everything, too smart for your own good!"

"You're the one who sent me to MIT when I was 14!" he cried. "All you wanted was to get rid of me—"

"That was a mistake, I know," he admitted, looking stricken. "But you were so brilliant, Daniel—how could I let you stay languishing in that little mediocre school? You were bored out of your mind!"

He shook his head, trying to collect himself. "Look Dad—I came here to let you know I'm still around. It was a challenge, trying to find you, and then it took me a long time to get up the nerve to see you. Trust me, I didn't want to come, but I've forced myself to change my thinking about the past."

His father's eyes filled with tears. "How did you find me anyway, or maybe I don't want to know!"

He shrugged. "I hacked into the witness protection program—so throw me in jail for trying to find my own family!"

"It's your fault we were placed in that program!"

He shuddered, forcing himself to stand against his angry gaze. "Look I came here to see you again, and to tell you that I realize now that you thought you were doing the right thing—"

"Of course I was—why else would I do what I did?"

He stared at him a moment. "Yeah well….anyway, now that we've shouted at each other maybe we can speak civilly to each other?"

His father looked suspicious. "Why are you really here, son?"

He swallowed hard, eyeing him intently. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he admitted. "I was angry too, but I'm trying to put it behind me. And I wanted to tell you that I forgive you…I hoped that maybe you'd feel the same way."

"I might…but first I want to know where you've been all these years."

13 Years Before…

"Yes—I'm calling about the young man who was just brought into the system," Percy stated quietly, his eyes searching his surroundings as he gripped the receiver in one hand. "I've already explained to your secretary who I am and given her my clearance level, so maybe now you'll take me seriously."

Listening intently to the reply, he nodded. "That's right—I want a meeting with him immediately. I've already spoken to the warden…yes I realize he's a minor but this is a highly sensitive issue and time is of the utmost importance…I've been informed about his condition, and if anything happens to him there will be consequences—severe consequences!"

He continued listening, eyeing Amanda who stood with her arms crossed. "Yes I'm already in town, just ten minutes away…good, I'll be leaving as soon as we hang up," he stated, slamming the phone down.

"Do you think they can be trusted to keep this quiet?" she wondered, watching him reach for his briefcase.

"It sounds like I've convinced him."

"What about the boy? Can he be trusted, with his background?"

He opened the door for her. "I'll know when I look him in the eye."

"I have a few questions for him which might help—"

"Oh no you don't," he warned, walking by her side as they headed toward the car. "You can wait outside."

She eyed him with obvious disapproval. "I need to evaluate his status, Percy."

"You can do that once we have him in the car."

"Sir, I must insist on accompanying you—"

"Amanda the boy barely escaped being gang raped!" he hissed as he started the car. "He's not going to want a woman listening in on the details."

"At first yes, but if he comes aboard my counseling will be less threatening because I'm a woman," she stated. "Male victims of sexual assault are known to open up more to a female counselor."

"Alright, but give him time to breathe," he ordered. "You can start counseling him as soon as we're back but leave the introductions to me. We're about to meet our most valuable recruit of all, if everything we've been told is true. And we don't want to mess it up."

c. 2011 by Christine Levitt