Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still do not own any of the characters which appeared on the CBS show.
Author's Note: It seems the chapters are shorter and more frequently ready to post these days. Reasonable, I guess, since we all know what will be happening soon.
Chapter III: The Day Before
September 19, 2006
The trip gave Jake time to think; something he had been trying to avoid. Various trains of thought flitted through his mind. He needed to spend at least an hour or so shopping for a more family-friendly vehicle. Now that they had three car seats, the old compact car Heather had been driving since college wouldn't cut it anymore, even if she did keep it in top-notch condition. Denver would have a better selection of mini-vans than Rogue River.
Jake was also concerned about the health of his grandfather. Heather had mentioned some issues with his memory, but it wasn't until Jake came home and experienced it for himself that he realized the decline that was occurring. Even with the McCalls just across the way, it wouldn't be safe to leave Chip under the supervision of E.J. He could still recite the poetry he had memorized in elementary school, but was growing foggy on what day of the week it was. He still remembered all of the WWII battles in which he had participated, but wasn't sure if he had taken his meds today or not. Jake was relieved that Heather had agreed to stop teaching full time after the birth of the twins. She might go back to substitute when they got a bit older, but not take a regular class. Having her at home with the children, and with E.J., was a blessing and one less thing Jake needed to worry over.
Jake thought about Heather and wondered why she hadn't called him out on his failure to be emotionally present since his return. He wanted to tell her about Safa, to receive the absolution he knew she would give, but he couldn't quite put the incident into words just yet. He tried not to dwell on it, but it was always lurking in the periphery of his thoughts and making him feel physically ill. He knew Heather was displeased that he was interviewing for the charter service. Money was not the issue; he needed to stay busy. One would think three children under the age of two would do it, but it hadn't. He loved Heather, and he adored the children, but he needed to work through this before he could be the husband and father he wanted to be; the husband and father they deserved to have.
Jake had gone to San Diego first, meeting with the recruiter for the charter service.
"Nice planes," Jake had said, walking through the hanger with the recruiter.
"Yeah," the recruiter had replied. "Every aircraft we operate is augmented with custom security and design features you won't find in any other fleet. I see you're and Embry Riddle grad. ATP certified, 1600 verified FAA hours. You're clearly well qualified, Mr. Green."
"Flying is in my blood," Jake commented. "I started working on my Grandfather's crop-duster when I was ten."
"Now, you understand we charter for some top executives and celebrity clients," the recruiter continued. "Absolute discretion is a must for our flight crew."
"Hey," Jake said, putting up his hands, "anything past getting the plane from 'A' to 'B' is none of my business."
"Good," the recruiter said, smiling smugly. "Of course finding out everything we can about the people piloting our planes is our business. According to your visa records, you have spent a little time in the Middle East over the last few years."
"Fourteen months in Afghanistan, six in Iraq," Jake replied, beginning to worry about where this was going.
"But you weren't there with the military?" The recruiter pressed.
"I worked for an independent contractor," Jake responded in a guarded tone.
"Left that off the resume," the recruiter disparaged.
"I didn't think it was relevant," Jake retorted quickly.
"The State Department has you flagged as a person of interest," the recruiter continued.
"Well, I'm an interesting guy," Jake relied flippantly, having realized the interview was probably beyond salvageable. "There was an incident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Which contractor were you working with then this 'incident' occurred," asked the recruiter.
"One of the big ones," Jake answered, shaking his head; surprised that they were continuing the conversation.
"Halliburton? Blackwater?" The recruiter asked.
"You said discretion was a must," Jake reminded him pointedly.
"Look, I'm going to be straight with you," the recruiter pushed on, a hint of forcefulness in his voice. "I think there is room in our operation for someone like you, but there's no way I can hire you if you are unable to clear this up. You understand that?"
"Thank you for your time," Jake replied, turning and walking out of the hanger.
With his interview cut short, Jake had a little time before his flight left for Denver. He drove his rental car to Mission Bay, to a bar on the beach where Freddy liked to spend time. He found Freddy and told him of the results of the interview.
"Aw, man. Here's something: Driver wanted, military experience a plus, travel opportunities; something tells me they're not talking about the Bahamas." Freddy read from an ad in the paper.
"Yeah, I don't need another driving job." Jake responded disconsolately.
"You're no driver, man. You're a pilot, a freaking good one," Freddy answered with enthusiasm.
Jake just shrugged.
"I'm sorry. I'll tell you what I can do, though. Set you up with a drink" Freddy whistled. "Hey! Mira! Hit us up with a couple of cervesas."
"What's up with you and the manners," Jake asked, eyeing his friend questioningly.
"I know that you just did not whistle for me like some dog," the waitress said indignantly as she continued to clean the next table.
"Oh, Baby," Freddy said in an attempt to placate her.
"Don't you 'Baby' me, Baby," the waitress retorted. "You're the worse tipper in here."
"What? That ring on your finger? That don't count?" Freddy asked incredulously as the waitress smiled at him and walked away.
"You finally pull the trigger, Freddie?" Jake asked. "All right!"
"You know it baby," Freddy answered happily.
Freddy's phone rang and he answered. "Yeah, hold on a second." Turning toward Jake he said "Don't go anywhere, alright?"
"Where am I going to go?" Jake said, shaking his head.
Jake stood and approached Anna where she was clearing a table.
"Anna, congratulations," Jake said, giving her a hug.
"Thank you," Anna replied with a laugh and a role of her eyes.
"He's a good man," Jake reassured her.
"Well, I don't know how good he is, but he promised to take care of me. Call me crazy, I believe him." Anna concluded with a chuckle.
"What's this?" Freddie asked, returning to the bar. "My best man is hitting on my fiancée?"
"Best man?" Jake asked.
"You going to make me ask? You're more of a brother to me than the one I grew up with," Freddie told Jake, giving him a hug.
"I get you. Happy to be there," Jake answered.
"I've got some more good news, too. Uh, Sweetie, will you, uh, give us a minute to talk?" Freddie asked.
Anna again rolled her eyes and then returned to her responsibilities at the bar.
"What if I told you I've got a gig lined up? Eight weeks, 100 G's, all cash." Freddy informed Jake in furtive tones.
"What kinda gig?" Jake asked warily.
"The kind we're good at." Freddy replied enthusiastically. "Cargo run. Quick in, quick out. 30 up front, 70 when it's done."
"Where?" Jake asked cautiously.
"Afghanistan," Freddy replied.
Jake laughed. "No," he said firmly.
"Come on, we do this one gig, and we are set," Freddy cajoled. "You can open that flight school, go back home to Heather and the kids and settle down . . ."
"Why are you doing this to me?" Jake asked. "I can't believe you'd even ask after what we saw over there. After what we did."
"All we did is not get killed, Jake," Freddy said quietly.
"Innocent people died, Freddy," Jake retorted angrily. "Innocent people. I see it every time I close my eyes, which isn't too damn often these days."
"W-we'll be smarter this time man. You know that I got your back man," Freddy responded, sounding like he was trying to convince them both.
"Sorry. You're on your own this time. I can't go back there." Jake said with an air of finality. "Furthermore, Heather would skin me alive if I took another travel job. She practically did when I said I was coming to apply with the charter service." He glanced at his watch. "I have a plane to catch. Keep in touch, man. Let me know when the wedding is, O.K.?"
Freddy nodded in agreement and gave Jake another hug. Jake waved good-bye to Anna, who waved back from the bar where she was busy working. He returned to his rental car. Again he was consumed with his thoughts. He hated to leave Freddy in the lurch after Freddy had saved his live in Safa. He would have to think about what he could do toward that situation. After all the excitement Freddy had experienced, he didn't exactly see Freddy coming to Jericho and settling down on the farm. He would have to think of something else.
He flew to Denver and stayed the night in the extended-stay suites reserved for agents from out of town. He spent the full day Tuesday and all of Wednesday morning signing reports, reviewing files, meeting with his chief and others up the political ladder. His work had, indeed, led to the apprehension of several high-ranking officials in the independent contracting agency. The smuggling ring was stopped cold. All of those who had been knowledgeable had been arrested and brought back state-side to stand trial for treason, among other things. Jake would be called upon to testify at the various trials as they came up on the schedule, but otherwise his work on that case was complete. The bureau thanked him for his service on the case and confirmed their intention to contact him as needed in the future for consulting work. He indicated an interest in returning to his occasional pilot responsibilities as needed, and they added him to that list as well. If he couldn't fly for the charter service, perhaps he could fly for the FBI once again. He made his way to the long-term parking garage and started toward home.
Meanwhile, in Jericho, Heather had plans to meet April in town for lunch. Joanna McCall had volunteered to watch the kids and shooed Heather out the door for the first time since the babies were born. When she arrived at the medical center to collect April, she found Gail there as well.
"No, Johnston didn't come in for his check-up this morning," April was telling Gail.
"I had a feeling that would be the case," Gail said in exasperation, shaking her head.
"I have a little time, would you like me to go over to Town Hall and check him out?" April asked, consulting her appointment book.
"Oh, thank you so much, Dear, I would greatly appreciate if you would. He can be so stubborn sometimes," Gail said, beaming at April.
"Heather!" April said, noticing her sister-in-law in the doorway. "Do you want to come with us while I do a quick blood pressure check on our dear Father? We can go straight to Bailey's for lunch as soon as I'm done."
Heather laughed. "Sure, that will be fine. I'm just enjoying seeing adults after ten days with the babies."
As they walked down the hall of Town Hall, they could hear and then see Eric speaking with Johnston.
"USA Today is having a contest to decide the top 5 towns under 5000. I was thinking we should submit Jericho," Eric was attempting to convince his father.
"Why?" Johnston asked, clearly not convinced. "So some big developer can come in and start buying the town up, maybe turn Main Street into a strip mall, or half a dozen coffee shops or so?"
"Dad, there are worse things in the world than venti Frappuccino's," Eric retorted.
"Speak English," Johnston snapped back.
"This could be a good thing," Eric persisted. "The kind of headlines that brings out voters next month."
"Son, I am not worried about beating Gray Anderson. People of this town have kept me in office for over 20 years. I will earn their votes by doing the job they hired me to do."
Eric turned and noticed the ladies for the first time. "Wh-what are you guys doing here?"
"Your father missed his checkup this morning," Gail explained, "and April was nice enough to take off her lunch hour to make a house call."
"Well, I'm sorry, Doc," Johnston said dismissively, "but we're going to have to reschedule for some time after the election.
"Johnston." Gail said firmly, stopping him in his tracks. "You are going to do this whether you like it or not. I've had this terrible cold, and you've not been feeling well for almost a week. I don't like having to stay away from my grandbabies in order to avoid getting them sick"
"It's a bad one," April agreed. "Half my staff has come down with it."
"Do you want to strip here," Gail laid down the ultimatum, "or would you like to go somewhere a little less public?"
"My office," Johnston said in resignation, leaving Eric and Heather standing in the hall, smirking.
"That's my guy," Gail said, following Johnston and April toward the Mayor's office.
Later, as Heather and April were entering Bailey's for lunch, they couldn't help but notice a sophisticated woman who had walked in just ahead of them. Stanley Richmond had offered her his bar stool when he noticed her walk in, having torn his attention away from the football game on TV. They watched the interaction with interest from their nearby table.
"I hate sitting when I've got money on a game," Stanley said to the mystery woman. "Yes! Yes! Mary Bailey, you owe me 5 bucks! Pay up! Better yet, give my good luck charm here a drink, on me!"
"Don't waste your money. I've got an expense account," she said disdainfully to Stanley. Turning to Mary Bailey, she asked "What is your best wine?"
"Beer," Mary answered, unimpressed by the newcomer.
"Vodka Rocks," the woman answered with a roll of her eyes. "Do you know that it is a 3 hours cab ride from the airport to this godforsaken town?" The woman asked Stanley.
"Scenic though, ain't it?" Stanley replied with a cocky expression.
"If you like corn," she responded.
"Well now, who doesn't like corn? I mean you got corn on the cob, corn flakes, corn nuts, corn dogs, corn sickles!" Stanley was enjoying this a bit too much; he exchanged knowing looks with Mary.
"Corn sickles?" The woman asked incredulously.
"It's a joke, lady," he responded indignantly.
"Can you not talk to me, please?" The woman asked. "Thank you," she said after a pause.
"Corn chips…" Stanley continued, only to be interrupted.
"Seriously," she said firmly. "Don't talk to me."
Stanley shrugged his shoulders and left the tavern shortly thereafter.
Heather and April had a good laugh at the expense of Stanley and the sophisticated mystery woman, and then turned back to ordering their lunch and discussing their children.
Later, as they left Bailey's, they saw Stanley's familiar yellow truck pull up and stop in front of them. The mystery woman was standing on the sidewalk like she was waiting for someone.
"Excuse me, excuse me," she called to Stanley as he exited his truck and started across the street toward Gracie's Market. "Ah, it's you," she said in disappointment upon recognizing him from her earlier enter at Bailey's.
"Yeah, sorry, not ringing a bell," Stanley replied, turning toward her.
"Look, I've been standing out here forever waiting for a cab," the woman told him, a hint of desperation in her voice.
"I suggest you nicely ask someone for a ride," Stanley told her, turning to go.
"Do you know where the Richmond Farm is?" She asked politely.
"Well yeah, I ought to, I'm Stanley Richmond," he said with a smile, turning toward her again.
The woman laughed. "You gotta be kidding," she responded, unable to believe her poor luck.
"No," Stanley reassured her. "See now's the part where you tell me your name."
"Mimi Clarke," the woman replied.
"Well it's nice to meet you Miss Clarke," Stanley responded politely.
"Do you not read your mail?" Mimi asked in a scathing tone.
"Nope, nothing but bills and bad news," Stanley replied in a lighted manner. "Why?"
"Well, this would be a little of both," came the condescending response. "I work for the IRS, and according to our records, you owe more than $180,000 in back taxes," she said with a smirk. "It's nice to meet you," she concluded, holding out her hand to be shaken.
Stanley just stood there, a look of disbelief on his face. Heather and April, who had been inadvertently eavesdropping, turned and walked quickly away.
"Oh, dear," Heather said in dismay, "I had no idea. I'll mention it to Jake when he gets home. Perhaps we can help in some way."
"Sounds good," April agreed. "By the looks of it, Stanley had no idea, either."