10 Chapter 10

7:00AM

The sun's rays reached into the room. Frank's mobile alarm sounded.Pulling him from a dream of Marilyn. Rolling over to cuddle her. Only to find an only empty space and a cold pillow. His eyes open slowly and take in the foreign room. The decor of the room was not his own. Then realized he was a long way from home.

Sitting upright, feels the tiredness of his body. Still operating on Settle time, three hours behind. Coffee was his first priority. That, and a shower to wake his senses.Looking out the windows over the city scape of apartment buildings. The City center somewhere in the distance. There was a knock at the door.

Smith perhaps thought Frank.

"Room service." A voice calls out and the door opens.The Bellboy pushes a trolley into the room. Carrying a shining silver cloche and pot of steaming coffee. A local newspaper laid nearby.Frank tips the boy and watches him leave. Surprised by the breakfast, he would have been just as happy with something from the mini-bar. But when in Rome, he thought.

Lifting the cloche discovers a plate of bacon and eggs,mushrooms, hash browns and fried tomatoes.With a note from Smith, 'Enjoy.'Pouring a black coffee Frank savors the first hit for the day. And scanned the morning paper. Same news different city. It could well have been the Seattle Times. News and scandals were the same. Only the names change.

Curiously he checked the job section and found several that would have interested him back home.Frank enjoyed the moment and allowed himself to reflect on the past seven months. The universe had a funny way of messing with people. Then remembered where he was. But not why he was there.Gazing out the window again hoping to found the answer among the shabby city sky line. And not the apartment building opposite.

Uncertain as to when Smith would call again. He would have to wait. Turning the television on. More for company and background noise. The morning news reported that a Merchant Bank in New York was under investigation for having its fingers in the till.Trading Bearer Bonds at inflated prices. Both the Securities and Exchange Commission and Financial Industry Regulatory Authority were having trouble having allegations stick to the Bank's Chairman and CEO, Marcus Metacafe.Having amassed a fortune, while other banks were crumbling around him. His bank well positioned to take advantage of their financial ruin.

Nicknamed The Magician. Billions upon billions had been wiped from the Stock Market.Thousands upon thousands of jobs had been lost. Defaulted mortgages soon swept up by Metacafe's bank. Something was awry. The SEC was having trouble pinning the tail on the rat.Surfing to a sports channel in time to catch the Ice-Hockey. The Thunderbird were looking to take the Western Conference Championship for another year. The Stanley Cup was theirs for the taking in June if they held on that long. But first they had to face the Edmonton Oilers. Fierce rivalry between the two meant there would be blood left on the rink today. Last man standing would be the winner.Retrieving a bottle from the mini-bar Frank sat back in time to hear the bell sound for the first round. Like a medieval battle field, brawly helmeted solders slide swiftly in ever decreasing circles. Relentlessly chasing down the elusive puck.

It was a maelstrom on ice. Players cutting down any opponent that crossed their path. The T-Birds out-flank the Oilers. Mac Lean passes to Andrusiak who smashes the puck under the diving Oiler's goaltender. Another Zack attack.One–nil after five minutes. What a start for the T-Birds. The crowd go wild. TheThunderbird's cheerleaders dance an exotic frenzy. The Oiler fans go quiet.Shaken but not out. They rouse their team to go after the T-Birds and slaughter them.

"Go you bastards!" Cheered Frank from the warmth of his armchair.His mobile rings and the screen displays Private Number. It could only mean one person.

"Mister Smith." Answers Frank turning down the television volume.

"Enjoying the game I see." Responds Smith.Frank looks out the window and wonders how Smith knew. But then Smith knows everything. Franks turns his attention back to the television where a fight had broken out. What were the chances of that?

"Yeah... T-Birds are playing the Oilers, but then you probably already knew that... Wouldn't know the score would you?" Frank asked curiously,

wondering how much Smith really did know.

"Unfortunately not." Smith begins.

"Did you rest well?"

"Yes I did actually... Thank you." Frank responds, still keeping an eye on the game that had resumed.

"I have a small task for you to undertake. It won't take long if all goes to schedule." Smith waits for Frank to respond.

"I'm listening."

"Under the bed you will find a briefcase. Inside the brief case are a few items you will be needing... At ten thirty AM exactly I need you to go across to the apartment building opposite... Do you see it outside your window?"

"Yes. The tall white building?"

"That is the one." Smith confirms.

"I want you to go to room 5C on the fifth floor. An access key is in the briefcase.... I have demobilized the security cameras. No one will see you arrive or leave... Trust me."Trust him? Why would he want the security camera's turned off? What did Smith want him to do? And not be seen?

"In the brief case you will find a room key. The gentleman that lives there will not be home. He will be out for about an hour or so. Are you with me so far Frank?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to do Mister Smith... If the man is out...What am I doing in his apartment?"

"You are going to change a light bulb Frank." Smith explains plainly.

"I'm what? ... Light bulb? You can't have brought me all this way to change a light bulb?"

There is a moment silence as Smith contemplates Frank's reaction.

"Just part of the assignment... I will call you at ten forty-five AM exactly.Stay in the room until I call... Understand?"

"Kind of." Responds Frank confused at the request that he had been brought all that way to simply change a light bulb. In the name of National Security?

"Enjoy the game Frank." Smith hangs up.The game was no longer of any interest to Frank.He looks under the bed and discovers the briefcase Smith spoke about.Sliding it out he places it on the bed and opens it hesitantly thinking it could explode. Anything was possible with Smith. Inside he sees the light bulb as Smith had stated. And two keys. One to the building. One to the room. 5C. Frank pondered who lived there that required their light bulb changed? Could they not do it themselves? It was going to be an expensive utility bill.Closing the case Frank checks the time. 8:37AM.It was going to be a long morning thought Frank. Coffee would not cut it.Another visit to the mini-bar was in order. Settling back in front of the television hoping it would pass the time and distract him from the unusual task that he had been seconded to perform.The game had been tied up. The Oilers had fought back.

The home crowd had become more vocally abusive towards to visiting team. It was getting ugly.Frank swallowed the drink in one, hoping it would mellow him to understandSmith's purpose. Light bulbs. Really? There has to be something more than that,he thought. Maybe he had be asked to look around the guy's room. Secret papers or something.The thought eased Frank's mind sufficiently to ease back into the game. A fight had broken out. Something must have been said about the other player's sister. Or mother. It was all on. The referees stood back and gave to two contenders their privacy. Bloody and bruised they were pulled apart and sent to the box to cool down. The end of the first period hooter sounded and Frank checked the time.The clock on the wall showed an hour had passed. And another hour to wait.Frank's anxiety creates a paradox, allowing time to slow down around him. The final hooter blows and the T-Birds survive with a three-two victory.

The result goes unnoticed by Frank. Staring at the television expecting the game to continue. Any reason to avoid going to the apartment and into the unknown.

"That's what you signed up for Frank." He told himself.

"Toughen up...Grow some balls."It was time.

Taking the brief case he strolled from the room like a business man going to a meeting. Looking every part the accountant.

"Good morning Mister Pecks. Out for a walk?" The Doorman asks.

"Business unfortunately." Frank replies, looking up and down the street for Smith.Perhaps watching from a parked vehicle. But sees no one. He's here somewhere, thought Frank. He could smell him.And he was. Having coffee with Thomas at Café on the other side of town in the East Village.

"Well done on the Luxon assignment. Mister Black was very pleased." Smith condemns Thomas.

"Thank you Sir.""Have a deserved break.

I have another assignment in the pipeline. A certain Merchant Banker creating ripples in the financial space-time continuum... Shall we say?" Smith baits Thomas.

"Ah yes... Metacafe... The Magician. Know him well. Just say the word."

"Thank you Thomas I knew I could count on you." Smith stroked his young charge.Smith reflected on losing Thomas so soon. But he rarely kept an asset over one year. Becoming too exposed. Their exposure was Smith's exposure. Fresh assets left few tracks for investigators and law enforcement authorities to follow.What they did find, Smith could bury. Or erase from their databases.

"Do you follow Ice-Hockey Thomas?" Smith inquired hoping to change the topic and pas the time.

"A little... The Birds are playing the Oilers... Should be a big game." Said Thomas.

"So I hear... So I hear." Smith checks his watch.

"Excuse me for just a moment, I need to make a call... Don't go away." Smith advises