7 Chapter 7

The weeks passed without any noticeable changes in Frank's life. His mobile had remained silent, and Marilyn went about her waitressing.

The habitual routine of boredom. Life continued to ignore him. And passed him by without interest.

"There's letter for you." Saids Marilyn from the kitchen as Frank walked inthe door.

"Oh." Said Frank surprisingly, thinking a company had made the effort to reply to one of his dozen application.Then saw the envelope. And all hope shattered. The IRS. The last letter he wanted to see. He stared at. Weighed it in his hand. Gauging its thickness and contents. Thin. A letter of some kind, perhaps a warning. A worse, a notice.Statements would usually be thicker. Like a forensic surgeon, he had dissected a number over the years. And like many letters before this, had not bothered to open.Having engaged with the IRS over the years as an accountant. Many of whom were no more than glorified civil servants wielding power and control over others. Trolls. How people survived was not their concern. Recalling how they had once said it wasn't their concern how people survived, just that the calculation was done correctly. They had reduced people to a calculation. At that point, Frank had given up on them. Much as they had given up on Frank.He folded it in half and then half again.

Before burying it deep into his pocket. Deciding he would flush it next time he was having a bowel movement.Knowing if they were really after him, they would come knocking.

"What was it sweetie?" Marilyn asks innocently.

"Nothing much... Just a statement." Frank lies, not wanting burden her with his problems. She would have enough on her plate if immigration ever caught up with her. Being out of work was only temporary, Frank told himself. As was Marilyn.Spooning Marilyn from behind, he warps his arms around.

"You smell nice." Frank complements his lover.

"Go wash up. You're all grubby." And shuns him away.

He begins to kiss the top of her head, and then her neck."Wash up bad man!" She warns him again.Splashing the cold water over his face, the man in the mirror stared back at him Frank. Frank stared back at him."What am I supposed to do?" Frank argues with the man in the mirror.Taking the folded letter from his pocket, begins to tear it repeatedly and throws it into the toilet bowl. Allowing it to stain with water and sink.

"Shit-heads."Mutters Frank, and flushes the intrusion away.

The man in mirror watches on unmoved.

"Can't do anything about it 'til you get a job." Reminds the mirror-man.

"Yeah I know." Frank agrees.

"Something will show up soon. In the meantime... You need to look afterher... And your kids... Especially Jack."

"Yeah I know." Looking towards the kitchen hoping Marilyn wasn't over-hearing any of the conversation.

"Have a drink to calm your nerves. Frank... Tomorrow's your lucky day."

"Always tomorrow... Why never today?" Frank questions.

"Get out of here." The mirror-man tells Frank and watches him leave."

Who you talking to sweetie?" Marilyn asks setting the table.

"No one. Just myself." Frank answers.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Just a small one."Frank pours her glass of white wine, and a bourbon for himself. Before taking his place at the dinner table to await his dinner. Same routine, different nights for the past seven months. Closing his eyes he makes a wish. Or a prayer.Asking that tomorrow would be different. That something would turn up to move him from the pothole he found himself stuck in.

"Amen." Frank mutters just as the meal arrives.

"I did not know you were religious." Said Marilyn catching the salutation.

"Maybe you could come to church this Sunday, clean your soul bad man."

"Too late for me I'm afraid... But at least you'll be saved."

"I'll say a prayer for you as I do every week."

"Thanks sweetie."

"Any word from the agencies?"

"Nah nothing... I called several today... All say the same thing... Too many people, not enough jobs... But they say it's slowly improving... Just takes time."

"I will ask God for a job for you." Marilyn explains.

As if God had a vacancy.

"Thank you sweetie... Put a good word in for me with the big guy."

"I will. You wait and see... God answers all my prayers..." She begins to exclaim.

"See how I come to America... And find work and money for my family back home... I ask God and He provides."

"Yes He did... Maybe He could help me too." Frank looks at Marilyn.Taking in her beauty. Her innocence. And her smile.

"Now eat bad man. You will need your strength tonight." Warns Marilyn.

Frank's eyes light up with surprise. As if the previous evening had not drained him enough. In his mid-forties and apparently at his sexual peak.Marilyn was a good ten years his junior and a sexual dynamo. She ignited his libido in a way that his ex-wife never could. In some ways it was a relief to visit the bar to escape her fleshly appetite. He wondered how her husband had handled her sexual demands.

Perhaps he had insisted she go to America? It would not have surprised him.10:00AM. Frank peels himself from bed. Marilyn had been up for hours and had left him sleeping. Exhausted by an evening of loving making, he drags himself to the shower hoping it would awaken him.

A cold cup of black coffee waited for him on the table. A welcome sight.Skimming the newspaper he searches the headlines for anything that would warn him of another world crisis. Nothing. The President had not upset anyone within the past twenty four hours. That was a good sign. But then. The day was just beginning.'Give him time', thought Frank.Flicking to the Classifies Frank pursues the job listing. Thin pickings. It was too early for his eyes to focus on the fine print. He had have a look at the bar.When he had time. Taking a gulp of the cold tar brew he stirs to life.

The bitterness strikes his senses and feels parts of his body returning to him.Jumping on line. Searches for opportunities that had appeared overnight.Like fishing, the more hooks he had out, the more nibbles he got. For every fifty jobs he applied for, he would get a couple of bites. Though mostly unsuccessful,nonetheless gave him hope. Knowing one company would eventually take the hook.

It was a percentage game. He just had to keep fishing. Keep throwing out the hooks.1:00PM. Jefferson's. The Buick parked itself in the vacant space outside the bar.And Frank strolls in. Seeing Tomo racking glasses and Grimm leaning on the far end of the bar. His eyes transfixed on the wall of bottles in front of him. Nothing changes thought Frank.

"Grimm," Franks acknowledges his presence.Grimm nods his head faintly to acknowledge Frank's arrival. Then resumed his thoughts. Not wanting to be disturbed.Frank drags himself onto his stool. Throwing the newspaper to one side for later.

"All good?" Asks Tomo.Then shifting his eyes to the far corner as if to suggest Frank should look that way.

"Yeah... All good." Relied Frank casually looking in the inferred direction.

"Oh I see."Now seeing the man in the dark suit sitting at a corner booth. A red wine at hand and a newspaper in the other.

"How long?" Asked Frank quietly.

"About an hour... Same glass as when he got here... Big spender."

"Remind me to buy him another... One day." Franks jokes.

Frank examined Smith. There was something about Smith that made Frank uncomfortable. After yesterday's letter he wondered if he was IRS. Or was hejust being paranoid. Then recalled Tomo saying the man had asked after him.The man intrigued Frank. There was no point stirring up a hornet's nest. He had more important issues to address than some stranger in town.

"First one on the house." Saids Tomo placing a Bulleit bourbon in front of him.

"Thanks man... They all help." Replies Frank taking up the paper and scanning the pages for headlines.

"Marilyn working today?"

"Yeah... Glad someone is... Still waiting to hear back on a few applications but... No news is generally bad news." Responds Frank philosophically.

"You'll be fine Frank... You always land on your feet."

"You'd think so... But this time around has been worse... Generally it would only take about two months... Now it's coming up to eight months... I'm going to need something soon..." But before he could finish a voice spoke beside him.

"Perhaps I could assist." Interrupts Smith in a calm voice of authority.Having appeared from nowhere. Taking Tomo by surprise as well. Frank turns about to see Smith now standing beside him looking out of place. As though he had be more at home in an office, than a bar.

"Forgive my intrusion... But I could not help over hearing that you were looking for work..."Smith paused to gauge Frank's response, then continued.

"My name is Smith... John Smith."Frank looked back at Tomo who simply shrugged his shoulders and carried on polishing glasses, then turned his attention back to Smith.

"Keep talking." Frank instructs Smith hesitantly.

"Perhaps you would be so kind to join me in my office where we could talk privately." Asked Smith.

Indicating the far booth.Frank hesitates and his unsure of the Smith's motives. Their relationship until now had been distant. If not non-existent up until now. Frank's mind was in overdrive. His intuition told him not to stay put. But his ears were eager to hear what the man had to offer. It had to be something when compared to the nothing of the past seven months. All he had to do was listen he told himself.Frank slides off the saddle brown wooden stool. Leaving his drink and paper and paper on the bar. Smith looks over to Tomo and indicates another bourbon and wine were in order.

Tomo splashes an extra shot into Frank's short glass.Smith slides into the booth. His brief case nestled at the end of the red bench seat. Opening it, pulls out a file. A dossier. Frank's life summed up in a few pages. Frank takes his place opposite. An unusual job interview he thought, but one he might enjoy. Not often you got to drink at these things. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, Frank made himself comfortable. Looking out the window of the bar, feeling the warmth of the filtering sun on his skin and putting him at ease. Maybe today would be the day after all. Wondering if his prayer had been heard.

"Frank Drake... That is your name." Spoke Smith, bringing Frank to attention.

"That's right..." Frank responses tentatively unsure who Smith was working for. Thinking Smith was actually an IRS official about to confront him

."Just checking..." Mused Smith seeing Frank sit up,

"Let me begin by saying I have been observing you for some time..."

"Really... Have you? ... Why? ... Who are you? ... What do you want?"Responds Frank firing questions back.

"Relax Frank... I'm not who you think I may be."

"Then who are you?" He prompts wanting to identify his personal stalker.Just then Tomo arrived with the drinks.

"Enjoy." Placing the drinks before them.Smith slides a twenty in Tomo's direction.

"Keep the change." Advised Smith.Tomo heads back to the bar to leave them to continue. Smith savors the glass of dark cherry red Merlot and Franks takes a hit of the golden bourbon that was quickly calming his nerves and anxiety.

"I work for an Agency... A very special kind of Agency..." Smith begins."IRS?" Suggests Frank looking at Smith with suspicion.

"Oh... No. No... Though I do deal with them from time to time." Smith grins at the private joke and resumes his train of thought,

"No... I work for an Agency shall we say that does not publically exist ... If you know what I mean?"Hoping Frank would join the dots."

I'm sorry... I don't know what you mean... You need an Accountant for an Agency that doesn't exist?" Becoming confused.

"Not so much an Accountant... Though that would be a good cover I suppose..." Said Smith thinking through the possibilities.

"Cover? ... What are you talking about?" Becoming more confused.

"Let me explain."

"I wish you would." Becoming a little frustrated.

"My Agency handles National Security on behalf of the Government." Smith opens his wallet and reveals his identification card and badge.Leveling his brief case open enough for Frank to see a holstered G lock pistol.Frank is taken back at the sight of the weapon. And the authority of the man sitting opposite. In some way, he would rather have had an IRS official sitting inhis place. That he could understand. But not Smith. Obscure questions ran through Franks mind.

"What do you want with me?" Franks searches for answers

."One of my tasks with the Agency is to recruitment."

"You need an Accountant?"

"Not quite... But you are in desperate need of work are you not?"

"I wouldn't say desperate." Frank lied,

"How did you know that?"

"I know everything about you Frank." Smith advised.

"Everything?" Frank's eye brow's pinched together. Focusing his stare on the man in the dark suit sitting opposite.

"Everything... How is Marilyn?" Smith asked hitting a nerve.

"What the fuck? You leave her out of this... You touch her and by God I'll touch you... I don't give a fuck who you are... I'll hunt you down and hurt you so badly..." Frank exploded at Smith.

Tomo looked up at the eruption taking place at the booth. Frank could handle himself. Obviously Smith had pushed a button he should not have. Smith took the verbal barrage and waited for Frank to stop. It was pleasing to know he had a dark side. But was he capable of killing?

Then Frank fell silent."My apologies Frank... I did not mean it in that sense. Just that I really do know everything about you. The Agency knows just about everything about anyone it chooses to know about... For example... Take your good friend over there... Tomo... Otherwise known as David Llewellyn Thompson... Originally from Manchester... Pays his taxes... Or most of them... Has a minor gambling habit... Every Tuesday at eleven PM... Calls a sex line and chats with Lola...And he voted Republican in the last election... And he currently holds six hundred and thirty-one dollars and fifty four cents in his bank account." Smith paused to keep the information sink in.

Then concluded."It's my job to know about people."

Frank looked over to Tomo to reconcile the information. And then glared back at Smith. John Smith. Not his real name of course. An agency like his would use bogus names. There was silence as Smith waited for Frank to speak."So what do you know about me?"

"Like I said... Everything." Smith began.

"Did you get your IRS letter yesterday?" Smith asked knowing the answer.

"You know I did?" Said Frank quickly joining the dots.Smith grinned, pleased that Frank was smart enough to understand disposition and the power the Agency had over him.

"Was that you was it? ... A party trick?" Frank asked curiously.

"Something like that... I just wanted to get your attention. I promise I won't do it again..." Smith did not finish the implied warning.

"So how can I help you?" Asked Frank, finally getting to the point.

"It is I who am in a position to help you Frank." Said Smith searching for the right words,

"... Financially."There were other words, but financial was the one that most people understood best. Especially an accountant like Frank. Frank sat up slightly on hearing the word.

What's the catch?" He asked suspiciously.

"No catch. You come work for me and I will keep the wolves from your door." Smith completes the sales pitch.

"You can do that?" Frank eyed Smith.

"I can anything Frank..." Said Smith, looking deadly serious.

"What do I have to do, if I'm not an Accountant?"

"There will be some travel involved... Import-Export... Dispatch mostly,shall we say... All expenses paid of course... But let's not worry about particulars for now.... We can discuss details at another time... I will be town again next week. We can talk then should you still be interested... You would redoing the Nation a great service."

"Oh I'm certainly interested." Frank responded.

"Give me a week to think about it. Though there isn't much to go at this stage."

"We'll talk again soon Frank... I must be off. I have to head back to Washington to write up my report."

"Thank you for your time Mister... Smith. I appreciate the offer."

"I can make the IRS go away Frank... And Marilyn's Visa magically appear..."

"You can do that?" Franks eyes light up at the prospects.

"Of course... Think about it... I'll be in touch with a place and time to meet."

"What about here?" Asked Frank looking about the empty bar.

"Too many ears for my liking Frank... I have your number... Unless you prefer a letter?" Smith allowed himself some amusement.

"No... A call will be find." Frank cringed at the thought of another letter.Frank did not know the name for it but was sure he had a growing phobia for the fear of mail.

Smith leaves his half-full glass of wine unfinished and slides from the booth. Extending his hand to Frank who takes shakes it. Both men meant business. Leaving Frank to his drink and exists the bar to wave down passing cab.

"Hilton, Sixth Avenue" Smith informs the driver.Stage two out of the way. Later he would reel Frank in. Letting the thought of financial freedom take hold first. Just as it had with Thomas. They all came around in the end. Money did that to people.Frank returns his stool at the bar, to resume his paper. Grimm was still transfixed on something only he could see. Tomo wanders over to Frank, keen to hear what had gone down between him and the Smith.

"So... What was that all about? You get a job?" Tomo probes Frank keenly.

"What's your girl-friend's name?" Asked Frank wondering just how much Smith knew.

"Sally... Why you ask?" Tomo acts surprised taken back by the question.

"Not Lola?" Suggests Frank inquisitively.A strange silence came over Tomo.

"How do you know about Lola?" Asked Tomo beginning to look embarrassed.

"Ha! ... He's got your number mate." Frank grins taking a sip from the extra strength bourbon.

"What was that all about?" Inquires Tomo being found out.

"Can't say... All hush hush if you know what I mean... Wants me to come work for him... Told me to think about it."

"Take it man. You'd be silly not to. What would you be doing?" Tomo asks.

"That's the thing... He did not exactly say... Dispatch of some kind."

"I guess Fed-Ex isn't good enough for them... Top secret stuff I suppose."

"Yeah I guess."

"Man... You could be like a secret agent."

"Won't be much of a secret if you know about it."

"My lips are sealed." Declares Tomo taking a vow of silence for the timebeing.

"... Another?"

"Yeah why not... I may as well celebrate something today... Smith? ... You think that's his real name?"

"Nah. Has to be made up... No one is called John Smith... Are they?"

"Don't know ... But he's back in a week to get an answer from me... I'll keep you posted."

The bourbon tasted tenfold sweeter. The aromas smelt tenfold more appealing.Perhaps he was turning a corner. Perhaps today was the day he had been waiting for. Perhaps Marilyn's prayer had been answered. Frank imagined a world of possibilities. Getting his life back again. A fresh start. It was the hope he had been waiting for. Tonight he would celebrate and take Marilyn out on the town.The job was his for the taking. How hard could it be? It was not like he had to kill anyone.