The Storm

Midway through the night, James was awoken by a sudden crack of lightning.

From his safe perch on the bed, with his lover in his arms, he could see flashes of bright white light against the blinds on the window.

Above, the rains had intensified, pounding against the roof with a force that only nature possessed.

Somewhere off to his side, he could hear blinds banging. A window in the house must have been left partially open.

James extricated himself slowly from his embrace, and pattered softly out the door, careful not to wake the sleeping Gina up.

Following the repetitive banging, he located the offending window. It was the kitchen window that he had neglected to shut after preparing dinner earlier that night. With a soft bang, he reached up and rectified the oversight.

He stood for a bit and admired the thunderstorm. They weren't common where he lived, and he could not remember the last storm he had experienced.

Outside, in sharp contrast to the warmth he felt, trees were violently shaking as the winds and rain pummeled against them. He felt rather than heard wood crack, and the sounds of a car alarm soon followed. With each strike of lightning, the veil of night was briefly torn apart, vaguely reminding James of old-school flash photography.

It was as if Nature herself was trying to memorialize this night, just as James had burnt the events of the previous month deeply into his memory.

---

Somewhere far above in the skies, a chartered Gulfstream V was struggling through turbulent weather.

This storm of the decade had climbed up to 60,000 feet, which was well above the plane's long range cruise altitude of 45,000 feet. With a maximum flight altitude of just above 50,000 feet, there was no hope for the plane to rise above the storm.

Ordinarily, a wise pilot, hoping to be able to see the next dawn, would have abandoned his flight plan and chosen to detour to a holding airport to wait out the storm.

Unfortunately, that choice had been denied to the pilots of the Gulfstream V. These pilots were carrying precious cargo, who had made it crystal clear about the importance of them arriving on time.

Four very important passengers, and one kid.

The four passengers were seated stoically around a small table, with the rapid ascents and descents of the plane not seeming to affect them in the least.

A very pale-faced Phil, on the other hand, was alternating between staring out the window in sheer terror, and desperately trying to hold in all the caviar and champagne he had just consumed. A barf bag was held between his two hands, just in case.

"Phil." A quiet voice emanated from the four.

"Yes sir?" Phil quavered, his concentration suddenly broken.

"How much has his skill improved? Is he ready to be brought in?"

"I will check once we're on the ground and report in sir." Phil said, his terror at not having an answer ready temporarily overriding his physical discomfort.

"Do that. Succeed in that objective, and you may make amends for your horrendous performance over the last month."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Phil said gratefully.

"Oh, and if you must throw up, do it outside please."

"But sir, we're still in the air." Phil said in confusion.

"Exactly."

---

The Gulfstream V landed on a private strip and taxied to a small hangar.

Once the plane had stopped moving, the door flew open and Phil ran frantically down the stairs and out the hangar into the rain, before turning a corner and vanishing out of sight.

Above the sound of the wind and rain, a couple of long retches was heard. Shortly after came a couple of splashes, followed by a muttered curse.

"Fuck. That was close."

Phil walked back into the hangar. His clothes were drenched and his face was still pale, but he no longer had a look of strained concentration on his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a damp phone and sent out a prayer.

It turned on.

"Thank God." Phil muttered to himself again. He knew that the phrase "once on the ground" meant exactly that, and any delay could be fatal. As in, literally fatal.

Phil knew he was on thin ice. His horrific performance at Monte Carlo had cost the organization not just a good deal of money and respect, but also other unspoken invaluable opportunities. No one wanted to work with losers.

Phil pressed a couple of buttons on the screen, before placing the phone against his ear.

"Hey, yeah, it's Phil, can I get an update on James Jones for the boss?"

Phil listened carefully to the response.

"Wait. What do you mean he's been at a random house for the entire month? The same house?"

An affirmative sound came from the other side of the line.

"Has he left that house? Are you sure the phone is still in his possession?"

Details about James' movements were shared, with his weekly trips to far away supermarkets and shopping malls detailed in exacting fashion. In addition, his phone had made small movements throughout the day, suggesting that it was carried on his person and not just left on it's own.

"Has he played any poker on his accounts at all?"

Phil received a negative response.

"Shit. That's not good. What was the address of the house again?"

Phil paused. That address was strangely familiar.

"Okay. Thanks for your help. Bye." Phil hung up after a polite greeting.

Phil started looking up the address in his phone. After looking at the location on the map, Phil finally understood the situation.

He ran back to the side of the plane and waited by the stairs with a heavy expression on his face. It was not impossible that this might be his final mistake.

The first of the four personages made his way down the stairs. Without sparing a glance at Phil, he walked further into the hangar and disappeared.

The next two came down together shortly thereafter. Following the footsteps of the first, they walked off before starting a whispered conversation.

Finally, came the owner of the voice that had suggested Phil take a window seat on the outside of the plane. Upon seeing Phil standing at the bottom, he paused in his stride.

"Well?"

"Sir, it appears one of the honey traps may have worked too well. James Jones seems to have been entranced and has spent the past month in the trap without making progress on his skills."

A heavy sigh was heard.

"You are testing my patience, and the patience of the organization. Your relationships may protect you somewhat, but at the end, a man is judged on his own's contribution. Handle the situation discreetly. No wet work, no bodies. Take James Jones to compete next month, but do not tell him what he is playing for."

"What is he playing for sir?" Phil asked.

"Your life. If he fails, not even your father can save you from the wrath of the boss."

---

Phil thought furiously as he drove his 911 out from the hangar.

The facts that he knew of were as follows:

First, James had spent the entire month at Gina's place.

Second, James had seem to have given up on poker, instead choosing to live a life of idle domesticity.

Third, he somehow needed to ignite a desire in James to improve, and then have him improve enough within a month to have a good showing.

Fourth, he had to still continue building on his friendship with James, and eventually be in a position to onboard James into the organization.

As he laid out the facts in his mind, a couple of ideas started to germinate.

---

James stared at the ceiling in Gina's room again with an exhausted smile on his face.

Try as he might, he could not imagine a better way to be awoken then by the careful ministrations of his girlfriend, which after he had been fully aroused from sleep, was followed by another round to start the day right.

James turned over and spooned against Gina, cupping his head over her chest.

"Ow." Gina winced a little.

James pulled back his hand as if it were burnt.

"I'm sorry. Is everything okay love?" James asked with concern.

"Yes sweetheart, I'm just a little sore today." Gina said reassuringly, smiling at James' worry.

James let out a small sigh of relief, before his eyes crinkled with worry again.

"What's the matter?" Gina said upon seeing his expression.

"I just remembered. The month ends today. I think Phil may be back soon." James explained.

"It's okay. No matter what happens, we'll have each other, and the past month to keep us strong." Gina leaned over and kissed right between James' eyes.

"You're the best, babe." James reciprocated the gesture.

"You should probably go back to your room though, in case he comes looking for you." Gina reminded James.

"After breakfast. The rain should stop soon."

---

James ran out of Gina's house towards his car. The rain had not stopped.

As he put his foot on the brake and pressed on the push-button to start the engine, his eyes caught sight of a nearby tree that had been cleaved into two by what must have been a strike of lightning overnight.