I leaned against the headboard of my small hotel bed, remote in one hand and a Glock 30 in the other, the compact gun overshadowed by the large can on the end of the barrel.
I stared at the television, the screen nothing but a bunch of jumbled images that didn’t register in my conscious mind. Nothing was registering in my conscious mind. It was intentionally blank, like a Zen warrior guiding the arrow that is not aimed. At least that’s what I was trying to achieve. In reality, I’d blanked my mind because I couldn’t take the conflict raging between my good angel and my bad. It was easier just to sit, thinking of nothing.
And so I did, for hours, answering the phone occasionally to get an update on Lucas’s night out. He was apparently a sexual dynamo, but he hadn’t had a drop of liquor. At least he’d be sleepy from the workout. I hoped.
I was startled out of my reverie by a knock on the door. Shoving the Glock under a pillow, I opened it to find Jennifer outside.
“What’s up? Is there an issue?”
“Not really. Just bored. I take it the call hasn’t come in yet.”
“Nope, but it’s only ten P.M. He’s probably not coming back until after midnight.”
“Can I come in?”
I really didn’t want her to. I didn’t need the distraction. I needed to think. Or more precisely, I needed a still room so I wouldn’t be forced to think.
She saw my reluctance and said, “Please? I need to ask you a favor.”
I opened the door and pointed at the lone chair in the tiny room. I climbed back on the bed.
“You got a preference on channels?”
“An English one would be nice.”
“I got Doogie Howser in German. Will that work?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
I flipped the TV, turned down the sound of bad dubbing, and said, “What’s up?”
“How are you getting to his hotel tonight?”
“Taxi.”
“You think that’s smart?”
“Well, it’s smarter than walking. Trains have quit running this late.”
“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ll be remembered when they find Lucas. I mean, you’ll probably be one of two cabs who stop there tonight. You and Lucas himself.”
“So, you have a better idea?”
“Yes. Let me drive you.”
The offer surprised me, but it was out of the question.
“No way. Nobody else is getting involved. Especially you.”
“Why? You need the help. Why ‘especially me’?”
I hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but I meant it. We’d never had our big talk on where we stood in our relationship, even though she’d threatened it a couple of times-scaring the hell out of me-so I’d never really told her how I felt about her. Truthfully, I was afraid of rejection and had tricked myself into believing that I was content with a lesser connection of being simple business partners. A little Jennifer was much better than none. But that didn’t alter the fact that I would protect her from harm, whether she felt the same way about me or not. Especially since this harm was easily averted.
“Jennifer, you’re not going with me. Period. Out of the question.”
She came over and sat on the bed next to me, pulling up a pillow to place behind her back. And revealing the Glock.
She stared at it for a second, a look of regret on her face, as if she’d caused it to appear. She said, “Pike, I want to be a part of this. I feel responsible. I’m the one who told you. I want to help.”
I waved my hand. “Quit it. It’s not going to happen. Just drop it.”
“It is going to happen, dammit! I am going to be a part of this operation!”
Whoa. Where’s that coming from?
Before I could say anything, she continued. “Pike, it’s my fault. I’m the reason you’re doing this. I’m the one who brought it about. I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to, but I need this. I need to be a part of the operation. It can’t be all you. We both suffer the consequences. I can’t have you doing this alone based solely on what I told you.”
What the hell was she talking about? Because she found the hotel rooms, she should be culpable for his death?
I decided to end this with a lie. “Okay, okay. Head on back to your room. I’ll call you when I get the trigger he’s back in bed.”
She said, “Why don’t I just stay here?”
“Because I want to be alone, all right?”
She squinted at me, catching the whiff of dishonesty, but walked to the door. She opened it and said, “You’d better call.”
I said, “I will. Go.”
I lay back on the bed, thinking again of what I was doing. More and more, it didn’t seem right. Maybe it was simply disingenuous mental gymnastics, but Taskforce operations were sanctioned at the highest levels of government. When we went out on a hit, we did so after a thorough vetting, always because the target was a distinct threat to American lives. Doing this on my own, simply for revenge, was beginning to eat at my soul.
We operated with rules for a reason. I wondered if ignoring them made me no different than Lucas. Made me like the stalker of my dreams. A murderer.
Time passed quickly, and when I looked at the motel clock, I was surprised to see it was now past one A.M. The call would be coming at any moment. I made my decision and felt a measure of peace immediately.
Sorry, Ethan, but you know it’s the right choice.
I reached for the phone to call surveillance when there was a knock on the door. Jennifer stood behind it, causing a little thread of anger.
“What are you doing here? I said I’d call.”
“I couldn’t sleep, and I figured it was getting close, so I came back.”
She glanced away, refusing to look me in the eye. She can’t lie worth a damn. But apparently you can’t either. She knew you weren’t going to call.
“Well, you can go to bed for good. The mission’s off.”
She said, “Why? Did he get on a train or something?”
“No. It’s me. I’m not going to pull the trigger.”