Eyes Of Danger (5 page)

Franklin didn’t say anything until they reached the airport. They drove through the side entrance and the driver had actually pulled up near an idling jet before Franklin finally spoke.

“Because you have brought me the right news, you will reap the reward. Leave your name and rank with the driver. He can take you back.”

Franklin got out of the car and actually relaxed.
A woman…did Myers finally let his guard down?

I got up early the next morning and packed a basket lunch enough for two, filling a small cooler with water and a couple of beers. I dressed for walking, then drove to the park. In the park, I drove around until I found an isolated spot that put my jeep where I could keep an eye on it, but also had a short walk to a table that sat under old pine trees off by itself. The table looked down at the lake. The spot was ideal. It allowed protection along with privacy. On top of that, it allowed a view of three hundred eighty degrees so no one would be approaching. Of course, with all the modern surveillance equipment, it would be possible for someone to watch from a distance, but it was difficult for anyone to hear a conversation from this table.

I put my basket and cooler on the table, and spread out a towel and laid out some of the wrapped food. I pulled out a book and sat on the seat on the side facing the lake. I leaned back against the table, but didn’t really read. I just looked out watching the birds walking the edge of the lake. The day was beautiful, a nice breeze and a few clouds. Long-legged birds walked in the shallow water, lazily feeding.

I didn’t hear him, but I knew when he came up. My stomach knotted up with heat, making me pull my legs up. He came around to slide up on the table, putting his feet on the seat next to me. I thought, always on the lookout, always in the protective mode would be the way he would sit, even here in this peaceful park. Was it training or survival, or natural—probably all of the above?

“So you know my name, what is yours?” I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded, because inside I was anything but calm.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

God, that deep voice was wrapping around me.

I felt the dark eyes looking down at me, but I just stared out at the small lake. It was better for a while not to fall into them. “Yes, I am having a hard time breathing, and I am forcing myself to sit here and not run into the woods screaming. However, I am more afraid of not knowing what is happening.” I paused and then asked, “What is your name?”

“Does your warning system go off around me?”

Why was he not just making it easy and answering me? Instead, he was winding up the spring inside me.

“Oh, yes. Well, it is a little different. It throws off heat, but I know when you are around. Did you kill those two men—oh, and you still haven’t told me your name.” I finally looked up at him. I was glad he was looking at the lake, but, then, he brought his gaze down to mine. I immediately turned to look away.

“Let me get this straight.” He reached into the basket and came out with a wrapped sandwich that he began to peel back the paper. “You are afraid of me, you came to an isolated location knowing I would follow you here, and you think I might have killed someone. Yet, you brought me lunch and the most important thing you want to know is my name?” There was amusement in his voice.

I got up to put some space between us. I moved away a couple of steps, then came back to the table going for the cooler. I was just not going to be a coward, well, yes, I
was
a coward, but I was going to face the bogyman under my bed. “Beer or water?” I pulled out a bottle of water for myself and looked over at him.

“Beer, of course.”

I held the beer out to him and he took it without touching me. I was grateful. I went to the other side of the picnic table, stepping over the long seat. I sat down, a little more comfortable with the table between us, looking at his back to me.

He slid down and straddled the seat, sitting sideways to the table. I looked at his profile, noticing a thin scar on his cheek. He had on his usual tee shirt and I was aware of the wide shoulders with the muscles of his arms. He wasn’t one of those steroid muscle-bound guys, but he had the look of a guy that would probably hold his own in an arm wrestling contest.

“Tim Myers.”

I looked at him in shock. How could this terrorist have such a common American name? “For real?”

He looked over at me and took another bite of sandwich. He nodded.

“Why me?” I reached over to find a sandwich, but before I could pull my hand back, he had it in his.

“Feel it?” he asked me as he held my hand?

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I wanted him to let go. I was really scared now. I felt I had some control up to this point, but I also realized a couple of things at once. The tightness in my stomach was going away, but there was a heat forming around his hand and mine. The tension seemed to be growing up the hand, to my wrist, then up the arm where he was holding me.

I pulled back in panic and he let go. I almost fell backwards, not expecting the release. I looked down at my hand, thinking I would see some trace of the touch, but there was nothing, not even a slight color.

“What was that?”

I looked up at him and saw that he had been watching me intently for reactions. “I get a vibe from you, not quite the right term, though, but I don’t have a name for it, just that I suddenly became aware of you a few weeks ago.”

He looked around, seemed satisfied, then looked back at me.

“You hadn’t felt it from me before?” I got busy with my sandwich so I didn’t have to meet those eyes. I had not felt anything from him except the
warning
that might have been from anything, especially the evening of the accident of the vehicles. I knew the warning had been from the possible crash and not him. Why did he notice me when I wasn’t picking up on him all of the time?

“I just came into the area. A job.”

I knew I didn’t like the silence, so I filled it with the next question. “What kind of job?” I really looked at him now, but he just shook his head. “You have special training or just special abilities?” I almost made it a statement.

He looked down at the table for a moment and then looked over his shoulder at the lake. “A little of both.”

“And it is the ability that lets you sense me in some manner?” It was like a sore tooth, I needed to prod.

He turned and looked directly at me. “What worries me is
your
ability. You should keep quiet about it. Not let people know, don’t tell anyone. Have you told people?” The dark eyes almost glowed with his intensity and some anger.

I was surprised at the potency in his voice. “I haven’t told many and I don’t think they believe it much. What makes the difference?”

He stood up and moved away. Then, he turned to look at me. He stood for a very long time without moving. I really felt uncomfortable under his stare. I knew some of it was the special talent that not only I had, but that I felt he also had within his system.

“It could get you into trouble that you wouldn’t like, or it could get you killed.” He said this in that low voice of his that didn’t seem to carry, but that I could hear so clearly.

“Maybe, but I know you won’t hurt me.” I stood up on shaky legs to face him with the table between us. I was taking in the clean air, but suddenly the beautiful lake didn’t seem as safe and as calm.

“You don’t know anything. People can make us do a lot of things that we don’t want to do.” He looked out at the lake. That deep voice that didn’t carry to anyone else finally brought something else besides heat to me—it brought a shiver of cold fear.

“What does that mean?” My stomach was really beginning to tighten up and the alarm system was going off full blast. What had changed?

He came back to the table, shaking his head. He picked up his beer, tipped it up and kept it tipped until he drained the bottle, then set it back down.

“Thanks for lunch.”

He was gone, melting through the trees without any sound.

Franklin was sitting in one of the best restaurants in Detroit, the top of the tower on the GM Renaissance Center, looking over the river and most of Detroit. The restaurant, for members only, was excellent, and its wine list was one of the best in the state.

Franklin was sitting back, watching the two Senators trying to out-politic each other. The full table also included a couple of aides, some sniffers, and a couple of high military men in civvies as they relaxed. He had only one of his aides at his side chair and the meeting was really going to happen in one of the side rooms later over brandy and cigars. He needed funding.

His aide moved as one of his men approached the assistant, talking quietly in his ear. The adviser nodded, and when the man left, he looked over at Franklin for a moment, then nodded. Waiting for a break in the food service, Franklin got up, going over to the window walls to look out over the city. His aide walked up to speak without anyone else hearing.

“We have identified the woman. We are also doing some close reconnaissance. There are reports of Myers, but he is too smart to let us get close to him.”

Franklin looked at the small cars below. “Press her a little, but don’t move in too close, yet. Let’s see how Myers reacts. Don’t lose her.”

Franklin returned to the table in much better emotions. He would get his funding and he might get Myers. He would get what he wanted, which was the way the world should operate.

* * * *

Michelle

The next few days passed without any unusual events. I went back to work and even produced some excellent projects for Steve. I felt so good at being able to do some good work for Steve that it helped to relieve some of the pressure.

I had a night out with Connie. I allowed her to make me laugh although I was distracted by the fact that I kept scanning the crowd and the parking lot. I didn’t see him, though it seemed like I saw a couple of other faces that I was seeing again and again. But, shit, that had to be a coincidence.

A couple of days later, Connie called me. She said she had to see me at once, lunch around the corner from my office. This was not my normal flighty, wild Connie. She choked on her words, wouldn’t explain, hanging up in a hurry. My
alarm
went off. I told my co-workers that I was leaving.

I walked over to find Connie sitting at one of the tables outside. This, by itself, was surprising, because Connie always preferred a controlled atmosphere.

I smiled as I approached, sliding into a chair under one of the colorful umbrellas, but was shocked when Connie did not return my smile.

“Connie, what is the matter? Can I help?” I reached for her hand, but she drew back.

She was twisting a napkin in her hand. Connie started in right away, not her usual high voice, but a hoarse whisper.

“Michelle, you must be in some sort of trouble and I can’t let you drag me into it at this time of my life.” Connie was looking down at her hands knotting the cloth.

I looked at her closely. She didn’t have on even half of the makeup that usually outlined her blue eyes. Her face was swollen and her hair was pulled back.

“Connie, I don’t understand. What has happened?”

There were tears in Connie’s eyes and she looked like she was about to lose it.

“Connie, talk to me. What happened?”

“I was arrested.” Now, the tears were really flowing. “All because of you.” She stammered. “I-I was taken in and-and they held me for hours.” She gulped. “It was the worst experience I have ever had. They treated me terribly,” she mumbled. “They were not polite, the men didn’t even respond when I tried to flirt.”

“Connie, you have to quit crying and start making sense. Tell me what happened.” I couldn’t even understand a lot of what she was saying, she was so upset. So far, nothing made any sense.

Connie gulped again and swallowed some of her drink. She used up two
Kleenex
tissues and then finally said, “Last night, on the way home from exercise classes, around nine thirty, I was pulled over by a State Trooper. While he was checking my license, a black SUV pulled up and three men in suits showed Federal Badges and took me to an office in town. They were frightening. They wouldn’t talk and wouldn’t answer any of my questions. They left me alone in a room for hours.” She started sniffling again.

I pulled out more
Kleenex
waiting for her to get through this bout of tears. People were beginning to look at us and I tried to get her to quiet down. I put my hand over hers on the table and shushed her in the way of a mother to a child. I had always felt Connie was childlike.

“Anyways, two men came in the room and they had a file on me and began asking me questions about my personal life. I asked if I needed a lawyer and they said I wasn’t under arrest—just brought in as a possible source. What the hell does that mean? Finally, after asking me questions about me, they started asking about you.”

I sat back in the chair. I looked at her and then I looked around. No one around us seemed to be paying any attention to me, though some were sneaking sympathy looks at Connie, but what did I know? I looked out towards the parking lot. I didn’t see a tall sun-streaked head or anyone except a couple of people moving towards the strip stores.

I finally got a grip and asked a question. “Well, what did they want to know about me?” I waited while Connie pulled out a mirror so she could check her mascara. Finally, she was getting a hold and the tears were slowing. She was turning into the Connie I knew.

“They wanted to know how long we had been friends, who your other friends were, who you dated. Do you have any strange habits? Do you go to any unusual churches or cults? Did you believe in or practice Black Magic?” Connie was now into herself entirely, the mirror in her hand her playmate.

I caught Connie’s hand. “Connie, calm down and tell me what you said.”

She looked at me and now I could see that she was mad. Connie lived in her own dream world. She didn’t appreciate anyone, even me, breaking up that dream. “I told them they were the crazy ones. That Michelle Tompson was the most serious, stable person I ever knew. That she had both feet firmly planted and that she didn’t even have nightmares.”