The next day John was waiting when I got to the training center. “I want to try somefing today,” he said as soon as I walked in the office door. Signaling me to follow, he led me back to the gym area. “We’re going to work with blades today, so wear whatever you fink would be best.”
“I guess I’m fine as-is, then,” I said with a shrug.
John gave a little head-tilt shrug as if to say, ‘Why not?’ and lead me to the main gym area.
“Leah, this is Jamie. Jamie’s our best with a blade,” John said, introducing me to a compact, stocky guy with dark hair and hipster facial hair.
“John says you favor a Fairbairn-Sykes,” Jamie said. “Unusual, but I respect the tradition behind it.”
“Tradition is the point,” I said, mentally wincing at my unintentional pun. “My main blade was handed down for generations.”
“Interesting…” Jamie said. “Well, this is for you,” he said, pulling a hard rubber knife in a familiar shape out of a bag. “Myself, I prefer a German Kampfmesser. This is for me,” he said, pulling out another hard rubber knife, but this one with a seven inch tanto-style blade.
Suddenly, without any warning, he lunged at me, trying to stab me in the gut. I deflected his arm, turning his momentum against him. As we pivoted I reached around and ran my fake blade across his throat from behind.
“Point to you,” Jamie said with a wry smile, rubbing his Adam’s apple.
“Are we going to have to suffer these puns all day long?” I groaned, getting a delayed laugh from both men.
“I told you she’s faster than a whip,” John admonished Jamie.
“Well, alright then, shall we get to it?” Jamie asked, picking up his bag and carrying it over to a nearby bench. I did the same with my duffel, and soon we were squaring off, knives in hand.
To my great disappointment he had nothing on Mr Han. He had no answer for me and every clash ended up with him receiving what would have been a fatal wound. Jamie did manage to nick me every now and then and got a couple of decent slashes in, but nothing that would ever be life-threatening.
After about an hour, Jamie just threw up his hands. “John,” he said. “Was this all just to take me down a peg or two? Because I can tell you, it’s certainly done that.”
“Leah here is an amateur, Jamie. You’re the professional. This should have been a doddle.”
“She’s no amateur,” Jamie said dismissively. “She’s been trained by the best. Her style is unusual, though. I’ve never gone against an American that fights like she does.” Turning to me, he asked, “What organization are you with?”
“Like John said, I’m not a pro,” I replied. “This is just a hobby of mine.”
“Right,” Jamie replied doubtfully.
John signaled I should follow him, so I gave Jamie his practice blade back and grabbed my duffel.
“I’m starting to develop a theory,” John said as he led me back to his office. Taking our seats, he said, “It’s obvious to a blind man that I can’t teach you any unarmed or blade combat skills, so I’m not going to try. In point of fact, you could teach my lads a thing or two.”
“Can we get past the stabbing puns?” I groaned.
John shook his head in disbelief, but I could see him trying to hide a smile. “As I was saying,” he continued, “You could teach our boys quite a bit about blade handling. What would you say Jamie’s strengths and weaknesses are?”
“His strengths… Let’s see…” I said, thinking about it. “He does an excellent job of weapon retention. I couldn’t get him to drop his blade at all. That’s crucial, since the moment you drop your weapon it’s game over.”
“That’s certainly true,” John agreed.
“His weaknesses? He fights like- well, like a karate black belt or something like that. He’s too focused on technique and not enough on outcome. A prisoner with a shiv made from a toothbrush would take him out.”
Laughing, John asked what I meant.
I raised my arm, elbow level with my shoulder and forearm turned horizontally across my body. With my other hand I made as if I were holding a knife. Still in my seat, I pantomimed rushing forward, leading with my bent arm while my knife hand, held down near my waist, made rapid-fire stabbing motions.
“Jamie isn’t willing to take a hit to make a hit,” I said. “An untrained guy with a knife who is willing to rush in and do what it takes would take Jamie down every time. Sure, that guy might die, but Jamie definitely would. The old saying that the winners of knife fights can be found in the ICU and the losers in the cemetery is absolutely true.”
“But here you are,” John objected. “I watched the videos of you in Atlanta. You rushed in and took down six opponents, unarmed. They all had knives. By your comment, you should have ended up in hospital.”
“I did get stabbed,” I said, tapping my thigh.
“That’s what I read, but I never saw that in any of the videos.”
“I didn’t let it affect me,” I said. “I had things to do.”
John just stared at me for a long moment. “Roger asked me to train you,” he finally said. “But I’m not sure what he finks I can teach you.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the main reason that Colonel Bridger asked you to train me was that I’d develop some sort of sense of gratitude or camaraderie towards you guys, and be more willing to work for you- or at least with you- in the future,” I said.
John loud out a short bark of a laugh. “He said you were direct!” he chuckled. “Is it working?”
“It’d be a lot easier to just ask me,” I said with a little shrug. “I mean, I appreciate the attention, I guess, but…”
“So is there nothing we can offer you?” John asked.
“Information, mostly,” I said, leaning back. “Roger already supplied me with some very important bits of that, and I gave him some information he wanted- quid pro quo.”
“Information on Night Children?” John asked.
“Yeah, some of that,” I agreed.
“So what other information can we give you?” John asked. “If we can’t offer training, what else do you want?”
“Is this the kind of thing I’d talk to you about, or should I talk to Roger?” I asked.
“Roger’s your man,” John admitted.
“My handler?”
John just chuckled, tilting his head and smiling wryly.
I sent Roger a text and got a response before I’d driven halfway home. Detouring to meet him at his club, I called Jeremy to let him know I might be a little late for dinner from the car.
“I spoke with John,” Roger said after we got our greeting pleasantries over. “He told me that you exceed some of our best.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“I’m more than half convinced he played me by pitting me against mooks,” I said. “Puffing up my ego.”
Roger chuckled at the idea. “I can assure you that wasn’t the case. John told me he has some ideas he wants to explore… He also told me that you happen to be interested in more information?”
“This one…” I said, pausing and leaning back to let the club’s waiter set my drink down, “I’m not sure if it’s O.K. for you to share. You may be treading on toes with this one, even if you do know or can get access to the answer.”
“You have me intrigued,” Colonel Bridger said, sipping his Scotch.
“In Colombia I met a man who calls himself Emiliano Suárez. I’d like to know if he actually works for the CIA, DEA, or whatever. He introduced a girl a little younger than me as his daughter, Katrina. I’d like to know if she is his daughter, and if she works for a letter agency, too.
“Why do you think they might?”
“Her I doubt, but he seemed a bit too interested in me and my business down there. He says he’s in logistics…” I said.
“In other words, he’s a smuggler?”
“Everybody down there assumes that anyone in the shipping industry must be smuggling, right? But like Katrina said, it is quite possible he’s above-board.”
“I’m not going to say it’s impossible…” Roger said. “What would you do with this information?”
“Nothing, really,” I admitted. “I like Katrina, and I’d like to think we could be friends. Emiliano, well, he’s a charming enough guy, but if he really is CIA or whatever, I’d just avoid him, that’s all. Really, my main concern is whether or not the CIA (or whoever) is interested in me.”
“What makes you think they might be?”
“You guys are, why wouldn’t they be?” I asked.
“Touché,” Roger replied.
“Right,” I said, sipping my own Glenfiddich 18. “So, what I’m asking is, if Emiliano is working for the CIA or whatever organization, I’d like to know so I can speak to them a bit more directly, the way we are right now.”
“The Americans are enamored with their secrecy,” Roger cautioned. “If we were to tell you that he is, they would consider him a burned asset. They’d pull him from the field. They’d be extremely upset with us, even if it did somehow lead to engaging positively with you.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “So how about this: you tell me if the American spook agencies are interested in me, and connect me with whatever handler they might want to assign to me if they are. I’m perfectly happy to have conversations similar to this with them if that’s what they want. If they aren’t interested in me, I’m even more happy to stay off their radar.”
“Leah,” Roger said. “There is no way to make those inquiries without triggering an interest if it doesn’t already exist. That’s the basic nature of the American intelligence operation.”
“Let me guess- you’d rather keep me secret in your pocket if at all possible?” I asked.
“You are so refreshingly direct!” Roger chuckled. “The world would be an easier place if everybody were like you. You’re also not wrong. Our interest in you stems right from our meeting at the benefit party, not from the Americans alerting us to your… activities. They haven’t shared any intelligence about you or your wife and her family at all.”
“Alright. It was worth a try,” I said, leaning back in the overstuffed leather chair.
“As you’d said about Night Children politics, there is some information that simply can’t be shared,” Roger said, managing to seem apologetic.
“Yeah, I get that,” I admitted.
Changing the subject, Roger asked if there was anything else that he could provide that I might be interested in.
“I think I’m good for now,” I told him. “But if I think of anything I’ll let you know.”
“Jeremy told me that you had said you were going to be late for dinner,” Emmy remarked when I got back to the penthouse.
“Yeah, my meeting was a lot shorter than I expected,” I said, leaning down and giving her a kiss.
“I am glad,” she said, lacing her fingers behind my neck to capture me and prevent me from rising. “I have plans for you tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, pulling me down for another kiss. “Big plans.”
“Do they involve going out?” I asked.
“Definitely not,” Emmy said with a smile. “My plans extend no farther than our bedroom.”
“So I don’t have to get all dressed up?” I asked.
“Yes, you do,” Emmy said, her voice turning serious. “I want you to wear the suit you got on your birthday.”
“I see,” I said, giving her another little peck on the lips. “And will you be wearing your birthday suit, too?”
“Yes,” Emmy replied. “It is important that we match.”
“I think I’m liking the sound of these plans of yours,” I told her. “I think I’m liking them very much.”
“As good as my plan may be, I expect the implementation will be better,” Emmy said with a slow, lascivious wink.
“We can skip dinner and go up to the bedroom now,” I suggested, doing my best to give Emmy a puppy-dog look.
“No,” Emmy said, shaking her head. “We will require sustenance, for my plans involve arduous activity. Besides, Jeremy has been working in the kitchen for hours and I would hate to be the one who told him that it was all for naught.”
“That would be rude, wouldn’t it?” I agreed.
Emmy’s plans did involve a lot of physical activity, but I didn’t find it arduous at all. In fact, I found it quite pleasant.
“Leah,” Emmy said, her drowsy voice tickling the skin of my back where she rested on top of me. “You are such a beast. In the very best way.”
“The very beast way?” I asked.
“The beast way possible,” she agreed. It only took a few more moments before her breathing evened out as she fell asleep. I enjoyed the feeling of her weight on top of me, but we were on top of the bedding and I was starting to cool off.
“Em,” I said gently. When she didn’t wake, I slowly rolled to my side, dumping her off in the process.
“What? Why?” she said in a plaintive voice, but settled down when I turned her on her side and spooned up behind her, pulling the covers over the two of us.
“I love you,” Emmy mumbled.
“I love you, too,” I told her, but she was already asleep.
We returned to New York that weekend, having taken care of everything that needed to be done in London for the time being. As much as the South Bank penthouse had come to feel homey, it still didn’t have the familiarity that the Manhattan townhouse did. It was good to only have a three hour time differential with the California offices, too.
We spent a week in New York, a week in which I visited a few sites for a potential base of operations with Michael and Grant.
Eventually we settled on an old drug store in a multi-ethnic neighborhood in Brooklyn called the Little Caribbean. The building had been built in the Great Depression in a sort of Deco style, and suited our needs quite well. It had a full-sized basement as well as two floors above ground, adding up to eighteen thousand square feet. Upstairs would be perfect for offices and classrooms, the main floor for our community center, and the basement for storage. In addition to the front and side emergency doors, there was loading dock access to the rear of the basement from an alley.
Pleased with the possibilities, I told the commercial realtor showing us around that I’d like to make an offer on the place.
“I don’t know that this will work for a training base for our hitters,” I told Grant and Michael back in the car parked across the street. “But it’ll definitely work for our cultural center and outreach headquarters.”
“I’ve been thinking about a training center,” Grant said. “I like the idea of it being here in New York, in the urban core like this place,” he said, gesturing to the ninety-year-old building we’d just toured as Wally drove us away.
“But?” I asked.
“But nothing, really,” he said. “Except I don’t think we want it where civilians might congregate.”
“How about Thomas Bros?” I suggested. “We know what it takes to keep operational security in that area, and we now own the building.”
“I like that idea,” Michael said.
“Yeah, it could work,” Grant agreed, thinking about it. “I’d like to spend a few bucks making some changes, but the bones are there.”
“Alright,” I said to Michael and Grant. “Draw up wish lists for the two sites. I expect the owners of this place will want to strike a deal quickly- it’s been empty for over a year now. We can get construction going the moment we close. As for Thomas Bros, think about what we can bring a generic tenant improvement contractor in for, and what we have to be a bit more clandestine about. I’d like to be fully up to speed within four to six months. In the meanwhile we’ll continue to use the warehouse in Cleveland for our operational training.”
“Roger that,” Grant said. “Cleveland is nice this time of year.”
“If by ‘nice’ you mean ass-chappingly cold, then yeah,” I agreed.
“‘Ass-chappingly cold’ barely begins to describe it,” Grant said with a chuckle.
“How is Jassie doing at university?” Emmy asked Michael one night as we sat in the parlor after dinner.
“She’s enjoying it quite a bit. Thankfully the college was O.K. with Jassie and Addison rooming together, which was a relief,” he said, his voice softening when he discussed his daughter. “Jassie likes the idea of me moving here to New York, and to be honest, so do Addison’s parents. They know that the girls can come down when they want. The college operates a bus that brings students to Penn Station for holiday breaks, and some weekends. Also, I can drive up in just a few hours if anything happens.”
“That is ideal,” Emmy said, sipping her wine. “Leah told me that you have found an apartment. Have you moved in yet?”
“No,” I said. “It still hasn’t closed escrow. We asked for a thirty day close, but the sellers wouldn’t budge on a sixty day. I guess they need the place they’re buying to close before they can move their stuff.”
“I’m counting the days,” Michael said. “I am tired of the hotel.”
“Only three more weeks,” I said. “Then a couple of weeks to get it painted and new carpets and drapes.”
Michael groaned at the idea of needing to wait that long, but I could tell it was mostly just theater. “Over a month!” he groused.
“Maybe you’ll be in the new place by Christmas, if things go our way,” I said.
“That would be wonderful,” Michael said. “It’d be great to celebrate in our new place. Will you two be here in New York for Christmas?”
“We haven’t talked about it,” I said, looking to Emmy.
“I am sorry, but I told Lee and Jackson that I would be there in Los Angeles to record with them in December,” she said with a helpless shrug.
“You guys’ll take a break for the holidays, though, right? Maybe we can come back to have Christmas here,” I suggested.
“What about your mother and sister? Grace will want to come to Los Angeles again, too,” Emmy added.
“Maybe we could bring them all here? I don’t know,” I said, not willing to admit defeat. “Let’s see what we can plan.”