9 Chapter 9

"Saw you pull up earlier, then take off again with that Smith fella."Tomo calls out.

You're not cheating on me are you?"

"You know I only have eyes for you Tomo."

"I bet you say that to all the barmen." Wiping a fake tear from his eye.

"But you're my favorite."

"I feel touched... Almost violated... So... What was that all about?" Tomo gestured out the window.

"Just a business meeting. Nothing exciting."

"Oh... The usual?" Tomo asks.

"You have to ask?" Pulling the envelope out from his jacket.This was one envelope he was keen to open. Still, he opened it carefully unsure what to expect. Only to find the expected. A return ticket and a hotel reservation as Smith had told him. And five hundred in cash.Checking is bank account balance on his mobile he discovers a disturbing amount had been deposited. Twenty-five thousand dollars.

"That's got to be a mistake." Thought Frank aloud.Smith must have added an extra zero on the end by accident. There was noway to get hold of him until Smith made contact with him. Tomo arrives with the bourbon in time to settle his nerves. Intuition was telling him one thing. The money was telling another. Wondering how much more money would redeposited after Flint. What was in Flint that warranted that sort of payment?Frank savored the stiff drink. A large ice cube stared back at Frank where once God had sat. Any worries of mounting bills and surviving had evaporated upon Smith's small deposit. Frank allowed himself a grin of satisfaction. Doubts still lingered in his mind as to Smith's motive. But money had changed hands.Smith had been a man of his word.Frank re-examined the tickets and hotel reservation in more detail. Staying one night and flying back the next morning.

The name on the ticket stated Max Pecks. Must be a cover name for some reason. Rationalizing he was working fora secret agency, why not have a cover name. Made sense. The money was beginning to unhinge Frank's apprehension and decided he would have another.

"What's on the lunch menu Tomo?" Feeling a meal was in order to celebrate.

"Menu is beside you... You feeling hungry?"

"Just a little... The morning jogs are burning my energy."

"Morning jogs? ... What's come over you recently? ... Talking to strangers... A new job... And now you're running? You sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm good thanks man... How about a plate of eggs, stake and chips... Tell Andy not to hold back on the grease."

"That's my boy... Coming right up." Said Tomo knowing his culinary cuisine.Looking up at the televisions sees the continual fallout of the Senator Luxonaffair scrolling across the television above him.

Luxon was just the tip of the iceberg thought Frank. Elected officials abusing their positions. Undermining the integrity of the democratic system. That housed the mysterious branch of national security that Frank now found himself part of. Which part, he was unsure.The day arrived for Frank to travel to Flint. He had told Marilyn he was heading out of town overnight on business and he would be back late the following evening.Arriving at Seattle International felt strange. It had been years since he had last flown. Now he was in his job description. Presenting his ticket at the counter, the woman advised him of his VIP status and how the airline staff would pamper his every comfort. Frank took his seat in business class and the attendant brought him a scotch whiskey.

Unsure what to make of the Celtic cousin. On tasting it, hesitated to think what Tomo had been serving until now.He could get use to this.Time to Chicago was four hours. But would cost him six hours on the clock.A two hour stopover before taking a one hour flight to Flint. Losing another hour crossing time zones. Leaving Seattle at one that afternoon he would eventually arrive in Flint by ten in the evening local time. His accountant mind grappled with the math.

Then surrendered the algebraic conundrum to the comfort overcoming him.Flying over Flint, and seeing the city lights below. A quiet part of the country that people avoided. Making out lights of vehicles and office buildings. Glowing brightly to one side, the city center a further nine miles to the east.

"Downtown, East-Third Street. Cope thorn Hotel." Frank calls out to the cabdriver.

"Yes Sir." Responds the driver knowing the Hotel.After taking several turns the cab pulls up outside a plain looking hotel building. The street looked deserted despite the parks parked along the sidewalks. Peeling himself from the cab. An overnight bag in hand.

"Keep the change." Saids Frank paying the driver.Looking up at the tall hotel he gauges the number of floors and but gives up counting. A gust of cold air pushed Frank towards the entrance as if to usher him inside.

"Can I help you Sir?" Asks the Manager seeing Frank approaching.

"I have a reservation." Presenting the doorman with the letter Smith had given him.

"Of course Mister Pecks, welcome... We've been expecting you... I am Mister Prentice, the Hotel's Manager... If you have any concerns about your stay... I will only be too happy to assist you."

"Thank you very much." Accepts Frank.Prentice taps a bell on the counter and a Bellboy appears.

"Take Mister Pecks his room please... Enjoy your stay Mister Pecks."Prentice beamed a smile and returned to his solitary position at the foyer entrance.

"Thank very much." Frank responded.

An elevator sounds and the doors open. Entering, the Bellboy presses ten, and the elevator rises. Before opening onto a large hallway. Frank follows the Bellboy obediently who opens a door before handing him the key. And finds himself in a luxurious room. No expense had been spared.

"Are you sure this is my room?" Frank asks curiously.Frank checked his key and the room number on the door. As if there had been no mistake.

"Yes Mister Pecks." Responds the Bellboy standing quietly still.Frank then twigged that the Bellboy was waiting for a tip

."Sorry... There you go." Handing the boy a note from his pocket

."Thank you Mister Pecks... Enjoy your stay." Nods the Bellboy, leaving hi min the large room.Now thinking he should have brought Marilyn. Large windows give a view of the city. It was getting late. Frank's mobile vibrates with an incoming call.Who would be calling him?'Private number' Displays on the screen.

"Hello?" Frank answers.

"Frank." The voice inquires.

"Mister Smith." Frank identifies the voice.

"You've settled in then?"

"Just arrived. Will unpack shortly."

"Very good... I won't disturb you. Just wanted to check you arrived safely. I will be in contact again tomorrow morning with instructions."

"Thank you Sir. I will wait for your call."

"Good night Frank."

"Good night Sir." And the phones went dead.Frank spied the mini-bar and made himself a drink. Falling into a large soft arm chair. Relieved to have arrived. Anxious to know what Smith had in stall for him. Whatever it was, it could not be as dreadful as the ten hour haul across the country he had just undergone.

"Are you sure he will be up to it?" Asks Black softly sitting in a chair opposite Smith.A small single lamp illuminated the dim room. Black's visit was spontaneous. Appearing in-expectantly that evening. Black looks about Smith's adequate hotel suite, gauging its adequacy."We'll know tomorrow." Smith counters his argument.

"We have him by the short and curlies if he doesn't... A man will do anything for love."

"What do you know about love?" Asks Black striking a nerve with Smith.

The Agency was Smith's only love. He breathed it. He ate it. He drink it. He slept it. And he dreamed it. But he had never known love."Love is a powerful thing Smith... Women have turned the most stubborn of keys. What makes you think he's the one?""I just know." Said Smith relying on his gut instinct.He had been right with Thomas. After a little coaxing. But his predecessor Elliott on the other hand, needed no persuasion. Despite his Irish Catholic upbringing. Or perhaps because of it.

The left-footer took to killing like a duck took to water. As though he had been ordained by Smith to dispatch the souls of the wicked to God. Elliott mirrored Smith's protestation of undesirables. He was the closest Smith ever had to being a son. It was a sad day for Smith when it came time for Elliott to retire. Making the kill himself. It was personal.Each recruit had jumped through the loops liked trained animals. And Frank would be no different.Black avoided probing further. His sentiments were the same a Smith's. Best to keep one's distance from women. Black rolled the glass of dark Pin ot Noir in his hand. Warming its contents and inhaling the subtle deep aromas of the bouquet.Smith could see Black scrutinizing him from the corner of his eye. Smoke drifted up from the cigarette in Black's thin fingers. A faint haze of smoke filled the room. As a former smoker, the passive smoke was like an old friend revisiting. Smith reminisced the past acquaintance and inhaled deeply. Closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Leaving Black to watch on.