“Yeah, I can kinda see the parallels,” I admitted. “But I’m not going to go in on the off chance of finding WMDs that might possibly exist. I’m only going to initiate the op if I know for damned sure that Marfan really was behind this attack. So far the evidence looks convincing, but you’re right. It isn’t conclusive. What we need is proof that this Ahmet Asker character, if that even really is his name, was working for Marfan when he came to New York. That’s step one.”
“How will you find that out?” Michael asked.
“We’re going to watch him. We’re going to watch him, and see how much time he spends with Marfan. If our assumption is correct and he’s one of Marfan’s right-hand men, the two will spend a fair amount of time in contact,” I said.
“How are you going to watch him? He lives in Istanbul! It’s a very, very big city,” Michael protested.
“A city you know well, Michael,” I pointed out. “And it’s also a city that quite a few of our hitters know well, too. In fact, more of our people came to the US from Istanbul than any other city, for the very same reason you did.”
“Fleeing Marfan,” Michael said, realization dawning.
“Fleeing Marfan,” I agreed, nodding. “Michael, how much would you like to get revenge on that family for what his son did to Jassie?”
“I would wield the knife myself,” Michael confessed.
“We have at least a dozen in our team that have very similar feelings,” I assured him. “If I asked for volunteers to go after King Marfan I’d have to turn people away- I’d have too many. Now, every single one of those hitters grew up in or around Istanbul, so they speak the language with local accents and know their way around the city and its darker corners. In fact, Eddie worked directly for King Marfan for years, so he knows all of the places that he would be likely to be found. Setting up a surveillance squad will be dead simple. The key is going to be how to train them for this kind of work.”
“And here’s where we return to your training center,” Grant said.
“And here’s where we return to my training center. Yes, we’ll train in combat skills, of course, but we need to bring in instructors in infiltration and surveillance, skills we really haven’t had any need to develop,” I said.
“I could probably reach out, but any guys I can bring in may come with… other allegiances,” Grant said, thinking about who he might know.
“Right, so we’re not going to go that route,” I said. “I already have the UK’s spies interested in me, and maybe the CIA as well. No, we’re going to bring in experts that have no discernible ties to Western intelligence services.”
“Mr Han’s friends?” Grant asked. “That might be a good choice. While we work with their military in good faith, from what I hear the SID and the CIA have more of a hate-hate relationship. They aren’t likely to go tipping off American authorities.”
“That’s pretty much what Mr Han said, too,” I agreed. “And I think that’s the group we need to tap for the high-tech aspects of the op. But I have another group of specialists in mind for the shoe-leather basics.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked.
“Well, realistically, the bulk of the work isn’t going to be bugging houses, tapping phone lines and hacking emails, although we absolutely are going to do that. No, that sort of thing is going to be relatively useless against what is probably a fairly low-tech target. What we need to do is actually follow Marfan and watch who it is he meets with and the places he haunts. For that we need guys who know how to do these things, so I’ve reached out and been promised trainers from a group that developed those skills a very, very long time ago and has honed them to a fine art.”
“Aw, fuck,” Grant groaned. “You’re talking about the fucking ninjas, aren’t you?”
“Why yes, Mr Henry, I certainly am. The shinobi perfected the skill of invisibility a thousand years ago. I had a long talk with one of their experts in the old ways, and he explained it a bit. He told me that invisibility doesn’t mean not being seen- invisibility means not being noticed. It’s a skill, just like any other, to blend into the background.”
“Well, yeah, that’s what the spook agencies teach their people nowadays,” Grant conceded.
“They’ve been doing it for, what, seventy-five years? The shinobi have done it for over a thousand.”
“That may well be, but aren’t their skill sets a bit outdated? Ninjas stopped being a thing in Japan hundreds of years ago,” Grant protested.
“No, they stopped being a thing that anybody took any notice of a couple of hundred years ago. They didn’t go away. They put their skills of blending in to use and did what they had to, to be ignored and forgotten. Many, many shinobi still utilize those skills in modern Japan. In fact, they’ve adapted their skills as times have changed. They aren’t lost in the past at all,” I said.
“And they’re going to come and teach our guys invisibility?” Michael asked.
“Yes, they are. Which, in a roundabout way, brings us back to the training center. I had been thinking we needed some sort of compound out in the Michigan woods like if we were a bunch of gun-toting militia types, but Mr Shimoda convinced me that an urban setting would be better. So, Michael, I’m going to need you to find us an appropriate site here in New York City somewhere. It has to be big enough for our more… physical needs, but also has to accommodate the whole idea of an outreach hub as well.”
“It has to be a place where a large flow of people in and out doesn’t attract attention,” Grant mused, thinking about it. “And where we can get vehicles in and out on the regular.”
With that, we turned to discussing what an ideal headquarters would entail, and what the neighborhood it would be in should look like.
Assured that Michael and Grant understood the assignment, I headed to bed glad that our plans were progressing. It was going to take a while for it all to come together, but I was convinced we had the luxury of time. Marfan wasn’t likely to strike again any time soon, allowing us to develop our surveillance and strike teams fully.
Emmy stayed home when I went to Tiffany’s to pick up the pink diamond necklace. Yes, it was heartbreaking knowing this beautiful pendant would never grace the neck of the woman it was intended for and I could well understand why Emmy didn’t even want to see it, but we couldn’t simply ignore it. Well, we could, but only once it was locked up in the safe in our house on the East Side.
The setting that the Tiffany jewelers had crafted to hold the almond-sized gem was truly a work of art. The centerpiece stone was highlighted well by the white gold that held it in place without being obtrusive, letting the pink diamond be the star of the show.
I made the appropriate noises of appreciation as they showed me the piece, but when I slipped the blue velvet box into my pocket I was happy to not have to look at the pendant any longer. At some point in the future we’d find the right recipient, but that time wasn’t now.
London was cold and damp, as expected. I’d booked us a room for the first night at a hotel there in Bankside just in case the penthouse wasn’t actually as ready to live in as Simon and William had promised. Emmy had suggested that we see the apartment in the morning rather than late in the day so we could have time to deal with whatever issues may present themselves, and I had to agree that made sense.
As it turned out, Emmy was tired enough from the flight that all she wanted to do was to go to the hotel to sleep, so that’s what we did. I asked Jeremy if he wanted to go out for the evening, but he said no.
“My duty is to be close to Emmy. Her safety is the only thing that matters,” he said.
Appreciating his sense of duty, I didn’t press him on the matter. I had plans for him, plans that I really hadn’t spelled out just yet. I was going to make him into the best bodyguard ever once he was ready. He was getting there, but as much as he tried to hide it I could tell he wasn’t fully healed yet. When he was, I was going to work him hard.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
We met William (Simon was in Paris, evidently) the next morning at the apartment. Well, actually we met in the lobby downstairs and rode up together in the elevator, but close enough. William made the appropriate noises about what a tragedy it was that Angela’s life had been cut short far too soon, and of course he was right- it was a tragedy. Emmy and I both did our best to politely make it clear that we held her memory dear in our hearts, and whatever designs he and Simon had made with Angela would be perfect for us as well.
It would have been easy to craft the large, empty space of the penthouse into some sort of sleek, modern steel and glass thing, chic but completely soulless. Simon and William had done a much more difficult thing- they’d remade the apartment into a warm, inviting environment of earth tones and natural materials, blended with modern details. The walls had been done with a hand-textured plaster and the doors and other woodwork were a dark-stained wood, but the light fixtures were contemporary low-voltage things.The weak, cold sunlight of England’s early winter coming in from the two-story wall of windows facing the west and north couldn’t take away from the soft warmth of the wood floors and area rugs that had been chosen for the open-plan living areas of the apartment.
“I like it very much,” Emmy said as we gazed down into the main living area from the upstairs walkway balcony. “It reminds me of Colombia somehow.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I agreed. “I guess I hadn’t realized how much work Angela put into this place. It really has her touch.”
“For me, the moment when I realized that Angela had worked so hard to get this house right was when William opened the kitchen cabinets and I saw those broken Japanese bowls that Angela bought in Tokyo. What is that called when they fix the broken ceramics?”
“Angela told me, but I don’t remember what it’s called,” I confessed. “I guess we’re going to have to bring some of that stuff to New York, since we have it in Los Angeles and now here.”
“To Cartagena as well,” Emmy reminded me.
“To Cartagena, too,” I agreed.
“I will miss her forever,” Emmy said after a long pause.
“I will, too,” I said, because it was true.
William and Simon had been truthful when they said the apartment was ready for immediate occupancy. All the linens had been stocked and the kitchen fully outfitted with all the utensils and appliances we could want. The baths even had the kinds of shampoos and soaps that we liked, which was information that must have been supplied by Angela.
“You guys did amazing work,” I told William, admiring my home office space overlooking the lower living room. “Worth every penny.”
“Thank you, Ms Farmer,” he said. “This was quite an enjoyable home to work on. Thank you for involving us.”
“Thank you for working so closely with Angela on this. I can see her fingerprints quite clearly,” I told him.
“She had a vision, which is more than most of our clients ever do,” he said. “It was a pleasure to work with her to make it a reality.”
After William had gone, I sent Jeremy back to the hotel to bring back our luggage. We were officially moving in to our new place, symbolically at least. Yes, it was fully furnished and equipped, but we had no clothing in the closets or food in the refrigerator. It would take us a while to really settle in, and I’d only really planned on a week there in Old Blighty with this visit. Sure, in that time we could fill the pantry and so on, but we’d need more than that for it to feel like home.
“We should make up a shopping list of the things we need,” I said to Emmy as we checked the kitchen for what might not have been supplied by Simon and William.
“I do not want to go shopping today,” Emmy groaned.
“That’s what the concierge service is for,” I reminded her. “We don’t need to go anywhere.”
“We will need to do some shopping,” Emmy said. “Perhaps not for groceries, but for clothing to keep here. We will need-“ she started, but I put a finger to her lips to shush her.
“Today, all we need is to work up a list for the concierge, and later, to order dinner for delivery. Let’s just turn on the stereo, relax, and do nothing for the rest of the day. Maybe you can check to make sure the studio space is acceptable, and I’ll make sure the home network is up and running and secure. But other than that, we don’t need to do anything today.”
“I did not bring a guitar,” Emmy realized. “I should have brought one.”
“Tomorrow we can find a music shop. I’m sure there must be one here in London somewhere, and chances are they have guitars,” I teased her.
“Yes, they probably do,” Emmy said with a smile.
That first night we ordered food for delivery from a nearby restaurant and went to bed early. I was happy to discover that Angela had equipped the apartment with the brand of mattress we liked- the same as in our New York and Los Angeles houses. This meant that sinking into bed was a comforting, familiar experience, even as the ambient sounds in the penthouse were different than those of our other homes.
“I wish Angela could have seen this apartment,” Emmy said as we snuggled up for the night. “She would have loved it.”
“Yes, she would have,” I agreed.
The next day we did do some shopping. Quite a bit, in fact. Emmy found a guitar store online that she wanted to visit, and in her excitement to buy the things she would need for her new little studio she wanted to get an early start. We got to the guitar shop with its blood red-painted exterior only a few minutes after they opened, and as usual, the staff and whatever few customers were there went crazy when they saw who had just walked in the door.
The shop was cramped, jammed with mostly vintage and used gear, some of it more along the lines of collectable than intended for playing. In a glass case I saw a guitar that claimed to have been used by Eric Clapton to record his Cream albums, for example.
Emmy tried at least a dozen guitars, playing some of her songs and some by other artists, much to the delight of the people jamming into the already crowded space. Apparently word had gotten out that Emmy was there and was playing, so it didn’t take long for the manager to have to lock the front door to limit the number of people packed into the shop.
Tiny did a commendable job of keeping everybody back, mostly by being huge and intimidating, but also with the occasional hand on a shoulder or gentle but firm push. He was polite, but made it clear that nobody was going to get within arm’s reach of Emmy at all. Of course, I was keeping a sharp eye on the crowd as well but thankfully there were no issues.
The only people that got selfies with Emmy were the staff- everybody else had to content themselves with merely recording Emmy as she tried out the different guitars.
Eventually Emmy selected three that she liked- A Stratocaster, a hollow-body electric and a concert acoustic. She also bought a bunch of effects pedals and similar electronics and a couple of smallish amps.
Of course there was no way we could take all that gear with us, so we arranged to have it delivered the next day.
Our next stop was a half hour’s taxi ride way to the north of London, out in the suburbs. It was a store that sold professional recording equipment, and that was it. No musical gear, unless you put microphones in that category. Just mixers, sound boards, and other similar things.
As I’d come to expect, the staff got really excited when Emmy walked in and announced that she was setting up a home recording studio and needed equipment.
Of course they saw a solid sale, but also they were awed by Emmy’s star status. Jeremy and I had nothing to do but stand around for several hours while Emmy went over this and that with the employees, discussing her needs and expectations. I had no idea what any of the things they were talking about even were, but that was O.K. All I had to do was pay for it.
Seventy-two thousand pounds later, Emmy had all the makings of a decent little recording studio. Of course it needed to be delivered and set up, which would happen the next day.
Our taxi driver (who had waited patiently the entire time we shopped) recommended a Caribbean restaurant near our apartment, so that’s what we had for an early dinner. It was in a sort of open plaza with small shops and restaurants around the sides- small enough that if they were any smaller you’d call them booths- and seating in the middle. Although it wasn’t actually raining, the weather was cold enough that only a few hardy souls sat at the outside tables. As for us, it was inside seating, thank you very much.
I had the vegetable curry, which was good, but not remarkable. Emmy seemed to enjoy her jerked chicken sandwich and Jeremy demolished his garlic pork, so maybe I just chose the wrong dish.
Jeremy was extremely alert during the meal and the three blocks walk back to our apartment tower, only relaxing once we got into the elevator. I was going to have to have a talk with him about staying vigilant but not tense, but that was a discussion for sometime in the near future. For now, I was content to let him do his job as he saw fit.
Emmy came and sat on my lap while I was trying to get some work done later that night. With the eight hour time difference back to California my remote work day was going to be four to midnight London time. Sure, it was a pain in the neck, but it was the price I was going to have to pay for our jet-setter lifestyle.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Emmy asked.
“I have some people I have to meet,” I told her, and yes, she knew I was being evasive.
“Do I need to attend these meetings?” Emmy asked, probing just a little bit.
“No,” I told her. “It’s work stuff. Nobody would expect you to be there.”
“Then I will stay home with Jeremy and await the deliveries,” Emmy announced, clearly aware that I was including her out of whatever it was I had to do. “Do not forget we have fittings with the tailors on Friday.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I told her. “I’m actually looking forward to it. I really like the suits I got last time.”
“They look very good on you, too,” Emmy said. “Especially the dark blue skirt suit. I get tingly inside when I see you wearing it.”
“I guess I’ll need to have them make me a couple more just like it, then,” I said, nuzzling her slender neck.
“Yes, I think so,” Emmy agreed, arching her neck to give me better access.
We made love that night, christening our new apartment in the best way we could. Yes, there was an undercurrent of sadness that Angela was not there with us in the penthouse that she wanted and then designed for us, but neither of us said anything about it.
That night we did our best to remind each other of how much we still loved each other, and while we might miss our third partner, at least Emmy still had me and I still had her. We were not going to forget Angela or pretend that her memory didn’t still haunt us, but we were going to continue on with the lives we had and make the most of it.