part0008

Blake pressed the button on his key fob as he walked along King Street. His Dodge Challenger let out an abbreviated honk from behind him.

The call to Harrison had set his mind at ease. He didn’t call about the Evangelists, or even Anja. Harrison simply asked for a favor.

Blake noticed a loosening of the tension that had been taking up residence in his shoulders, back and jaw. He felt good. Better than he had in a while. Could there have been something to this therapy stuff? Or was his newfound optimism rooted in having been given a task to focus on? Whatever the reason, it seemed to increase his appetite. He looked forward to what promised to be an enjoyable meal.

Old Town Alexandria was bustling, as it always was on a Saturday night. But the warm air and cloudless skies seemed to have drawn people from their homes more than usual. Ahead, seated on the sidewalk in front of a bookstore, was a disheveled man playing a violin. A smartly dressed couple had stopped to listen. Blake could see the man toss a bill into the open violin case before the pair moved on.

As he approached the violinist, he noticed a beautiful young woman with flowing black hair standing in front of Brabo across the street. She wore a sheer top that sat off her shoulders, accentuating her delicate neck. She was something to behold, and Blake reminded himself to never take it for granted.

“Mick!” Haeli waved.

Blake waited for a break in the traffic and jogged across the street to meet her. They exchanged a kiss.

“How did it go?” Blake asked.

“Great, how did yours go?”

“Better than expected. We’ll talk about it once we sit.”

Blake pulled open one of the double doors and waited for Haeli to enter. She put her hand on his hip, letting it slide off as she passed.

“Hey!” A labored cry came from across the street.

Blake turned to find the violinist standing at the edge of the roadway, his violin clutched at his side.

A streak of movement caught Blake’s eye as an emaciated man slipped into an alley that ran along the side of the restaurant, pressing a violin case to his chest.

Blake let go of the door and took off running. He cut into the alley and sprinted through the overgrown weeds and saplings filling the narrow passageway.

As he emerged into a parking lot, he could see the man’s pace had slowed. Blake called out to him as he closed the distance.

“Drop the case,” Blake demanded.

The skinny man stopped and turned. He was breathing heavily, and his expression bore the hallmarks of a trapped animal — fear and desperation.

Blake dialed back his gait to a series of slow, methodical steps. “Just give me the case and I won’t hurt you.”

The man dropped his arms to his sides. The unlatched case fell to the ground, landing on its end and spilling its contents onto the ground. The man fumbled in the pockets of his baggy jeans until his left hand emerged, holding a rusty steak knife. “Get back!”

“Now, that was a bad idea,” Blake said, his voice soft and measured. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”

“I’ll kill you man. Leave me alone. This is my money.”

Blake wasn’t sure if the man would have the stomach to attack him. His wavering speech said no. But desperate people do stupid things. Either way, Blake didn’t intend to give him the chance.

“Listen, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna try to stick me with that thing, and when you do, I’m going to break your arm in three places, take that sorry-ass kitchen knife, and jam it in your eye. Just so you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Blake had no intention of following through with the last part, but it sounded good in the moment. The man’s arm, however, would not be of use to him for a long while.

“Make your choice,” Blake said.

The man’s eyes squinted. Blake readied himself.

With a blur, a black object careened from over Blake’s head and crashed into the junkie’s face, opening his nose like a faucet. The man staggered backward.

Blake rushed in, grabbed the man’s arm, shook the knife free and levered him to the ground. A foot away laid a single high heel shoe.

Blake pressed his knee into the man’s lower back and torqued his arm, pinning his bloody face to the asphalt.

Blake ignored the muffled pleas. “Thanks for the help.” He turned toward Haeli.

She walked closer, the click of her remaining heel sounding off in half time. “Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to let you know our table’s ready.” She bent down, scooped up a handful of bills and dropped them into the case. “It’s a shame though, now that he’s seen our faces, we’re going to have to kill him.”

Blake smiled. The statement was cold and extremely convincing. If he hadn’t seen the wink, even he might have thought she had gone Natural Born Killers on him. The junkie, on the other hand, wasn’t amused.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll go. I didn’t see anything. You can have the money.”

Haeli stood up, planted her bare foot beside the man’s face and, with her other foot, pressed the point of her stiletto heel into the back of his neck. The man groaned and his body wiggled. Blake held him tight.

“How much money do you have on you?” Haeli asked.

“You can have all of that. Take it,” he said.

“Not this money,” Haeli said. “This money doesn’t belong to you. How much do you have?”

“I don’t know, like five dollars.”

“Where is it?” Haeli asked.

“Which pocket?” She shifted her weight to apply more pressure.

“Good.” Haeli removed her heel from the man’s neck and used it to kick the violin case closer to him. It skidded into his forehead. “I’m sure that poor man will appreciate your donation.”

Without hesitation, the man reached into his pocket with his free hand, retrieved a bunch of crumpled dollar bills, and brought them over his head. Haeli kicked the case over a few more inches and the man dropped the bills in. She closed the case and latched it. With her bare foot, she tilted her shoe upright and slipped her foot into it.

Blake stood up, letting go of the man’s arm. He picked up the knife and slid it into his back pocket. “Well? You gonna hang around?”

The man hopped to his feet and bolted, never looking back. Blake and Haeli watched until they lost sight of him.

“I can’t leave you alone for a second.” Haeli said. “Look at you, you’re a mess.”

“That’s nothing new.” Blake brushed at his knees and then jammed the tails of his white button-down shirt back into his waistline. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and held it out toward Haeli.

Haeli unlatched the case and cracked it open. Blake tossed the bill inside. “Let’s get this back to where it belongs.”

As the two walked toward the alley, Blake tossed the knife into a dumpster next to the building.

“Just like old times,” Haeli said. “Kinda nice to have a little excitement, right?”

“You’d better get used to it, once Fezz and Khat wrap things up with the Agency, you’ll have more excitement than you know what to do with.”

At the end of the alleyway, the violinist stood waiting. As they got closer, Blake noticed that the man was crying.

“Thank you,” he said.

Haeli handed him the case. “Our pleasure.”

“Take care of yourself.” Blake patted him on the shoulder, then took Haeli’s hand and headed for the restaurant.

“Bless you,” Blake heard the man say as the door closed behind them.

“Sir. Madam,” the host acknowledged, “your table is waiting.”

Blake and Haeli were seated as a runner delivered a basket of warm bread.

“So?” Haeli said, “Tell me about it. Was it helpful this time?”

“Ya know what? It actually was,” Blake admitted. “It shed some light on a few things. Just how messed up I really am, I guess.”

“You’re not messed up. You know what you are? You’re real. That’s what I love about you. You have a big heart, Blake Brier. I mean, how many people would help a perfect stranger like that? That’s why I suggested the therapy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” Blake said.

“Do I? Because...“

Haeli shifted her gaze downward as if the words she was looking for were in the linen-lined gap between the array of forks and knives.

“It’s all right,” Blake assured her, “go on.”

“We haven’t even ordered the wine yet,” Haeli said. “Let’s not get into it right now.”

“No. You were right before. Part of this therapy thing is about getting into it. So, say what you want to say.”

Haeli paused. Long enough for the waiter to seize the opportunity to interrupt. He introduced himself, provided them with the menu and wine list, and promised to be back in a few minutes.

Alone again, Blake waited for Haeli to speak. After a moment of awkward silence, she did.

“I’m not Anja, Mick. I’m never going to be Anja.” Her eyes watered and flittered up and down as if gauging his reaction.

Blake reached out and took both of her hands in his. “That’s what you’re worried about? I know you’re not Anja, and I don’t want you to be. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“That’s not what I mean. You know how sorry I am about what happened. I know you loved her. I know you still do. And even though she’s not here, most of you is still with her. But if you and I are going to have a chance, I need you here with me. Can’t you see that?”

“I can.” He squeezed her hands. “And I’m trying.”

“I know. Maybe I’m just being selfish and needy, but it’s been on my mind. I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I understand how you feel, but I need you to know that I’m one hundred percent in this. I’m committed to you and I love you. Okay?”

“Now let’s enjoy the evening. We’ve both had a long day of head-shrinking.”

A chuckle and an accompanying eye-roll assured Blake that she would come around.

The waiter returned. Blake admitted they had gotten distracted and had not had a chance to peruse the menu. He quickly looked over the wine list and settled on a bottle of 2015 Château Margaux Pavillon Rouge. The waiter validated the selection with a canned compliment, then moved on to another table.

“Not to stay on the subject of Anja,” Blake said, “but do you remember me telling you about her partner, Harrison?”

“I got a call from him today. Out of the blue.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked if I would help out a friend of his. Apparently, his friend’s daughter ran away with her boyfriend. It seems the boyfriend is somewhat of an unsavory character. That’s how he put it, anyway. He said the family forbade the girl from seeing the kid, but she snuck off with him anyway. They think she might be in over her head. She’s only fifteen.”

“But why call you?” Haeli asked.

“The family has the girl’s phone, but they don’t have the password. Harrison said the police couldn’t rip the phone, and he wasn’t able to allocate federal resources for a local runaway case, so he reached out to me. He figured I could get the info off the phone and possibly track her down.”

“That’ll be nice of you,” Haeli said.

“Thing is, Harrison isn’t in D.C. anymore. He transferred up to Providence, Rhode Island. He wants me to fly out there. Says he’s arranged a room for me for a few days. The truth is, I owe the guy big time. During the Evangelists thing, he didn’t go digging. If it were anyone else investigating the case, I’d probably be in prison.”

Blake heard the words come out of his mouth. He knew what it must have sounded like to Haeli. Anja this and Evangelists that . But he didn’t know how else to broach the subject. At least he had tried to play it off as casually as possible.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“I think you should go,” Haeli said.

“Sure. I think it’ll be good for you to have something to do. You said you missed having a mission. Think of it as a mini mission. Plus, a change of scenery might do you good for a day or two.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way,” Blake said.

“Of course. You should book it tonight. As soon as you get home.”

Blake could have left it at that. He could have said, “Okay, I will.” But he felt guilty, and he was sure that guilt was written all over his face.

“I already booked it,” he admitted. “I leave tomorrow morning. Early.”

Haeli tilted her head to the ceiling and let out a flustered laugh.

“I would have cancelled it if you didn’t approve.”

“You don’t need my approval, Mick. Don’t make me out like I’m some nagging housewife.”

Blake laughed. “You, my darling, are about the farthest thing from it.”

Even with limited exposure to the workings of the average American family, Blake was confident there weren’t many housewives who could kill a trained assassin with their bare hands.

“There’s one other thing,” Blake said. “I wonder if you would stay at my place while I’m gone. You know, look after it. Water the plants. Take in the mail.”

“You’ll only be gone a couple days, right? I could just stop in a few times,” Haeli said.

“You could, but you might as well get settled in if you’re going to be living there permanently.”

“Are you serious?” She clenched her fists and tapped her feet in a kind of ritualistic dance of excitement, then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.