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Tim decided to go to bed. It had been a very long day and an even longer evening. He climbed up the basement stairs and into the library to look for Pam but couldn’t find her. He looked in the kitchen, but she was not there either. She’d probably also gone to bed.
Tim wondered what room Darrel was hiding in. He had to be somewhere close by. Tim wondered if Pam had a secret room somewhere that she’d failed to show him during the initial tour of the house. Besides, as far as Tim knew, Pam was sleeping with Darrel. That thought had crossed his mind.
Tim climbed the steps and started down the hall for his room. He saw that the door to Pam’s room was closed, and he had no intention of knocking.
Tim had removed his clothes and climbed into his bed when he heard a soft knock on his own door. The door opened, and in came Pam, dressed in a floor-length silk robe. Her hair, which had been tied in a bun earlier, was now down to her shoulders. In her right hand was a pair of metal handcuffs, and not the kind you might buy in a sex shop. Real ones that the cops would use.
Pam sat on the edge of Tim’s bed. “Sebastian and Darrel have both advised me to handcuff one of your wrists to the bedpost just to make sure you don’t get any ideas about leaving during the night, but I really thought that was an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“That is probably not the correct method of entertaining your house guests,” Tim joked.
“Oh, I totally agree,” Pam remarked as she opened her robe to reveal the black garter belt and bra she was wearing. “And who knows?” she continued. “You might just turn the tables and handcuff me to the bed.”
Pam dropped her robe and panties to the floor and climbed into the bed with Tim. She closed the end of the handcuff around her left wrist, then pulled the other through the headboard and secured her right wrist. It was quite the trick, but Pam had done it all before. This had been a part of an ongoing game of spy versus spy that Pam and Tim had played with each other over the years. It usually involved Pam playing the victim, although she would also occasionally be the aggressor. Tim had found this out one morning when he woke up hogtied with Pam’s Hermes scarfs.
“If you’re worried, I might make noise, you can always put something in my mouth,” Pam purred.
Tim virtually lost it at this point and was now all over his wife. He began kissing her, first at the top of her head, then working his way down until he reached her feet. He then worked his way back up, stopping here and stopping there. He ended by finishing inside of Pam. Exhausted, he fell asleep on top of her.
The next morning came earlier than Tim would have liked, with the March sun shining through the windows facing east. Tim got up to pee, but he did not get very far. Pam had handcuffed his right wrist to the bed after all. He began to yell for her, but then saw that she was lying right next to him. At least she didn’t leave me, he thought.
“Hey, honey, would you take off the handcuffs? I have to pee.”
Still half asleep, Pam raised her left hand and reached for the end of the handcuff attached to the bed. She gave it a hard pull, and the handcuff opened right up. They were phony handcuffs after all.
“There you go, dear,” Pam mumbled, falling back to sleep.
It was eight on Saturday morning, so Tim decided to let Pam sleep late. He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Darrel drinking a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Darrel. How was your night?”
“Pretty slow, Mr. Hall, after I had to break up you and Mr. Oak.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that Darrel. Sometimes Mr. Oak just rubs me the wrong way.” Tim was guessing that Darrel was not in on the assassination plot. He was just the hired muscle doing what he was instructed to do.
“That’s not a problem, Mr. Hall,” Darrel said, getting up.
“Don’t leave on my account, Darrel,” Tim said.
“Oh, I have paperwork to catch up on—but thanks.”
Darrel started walking toward the back of the house. Tim leaned back to see if he could see exactly where Darrel was headed, but lost sight of him as he rounded a corner. Tim heard a door closing, but not like a door that rested on hinges. More like a sliding door.
That must be Pam’s secret security room. Most likely, it was behind a hidden door made to look like a bookcase or wall. Tim made a mental note to look for this room later on.
Tim opened the refrigerator, found the eggs and bacon, and began to make breakfast. He was aware that Pam preferred her eggs sunny side up, but he only knew how to scramble them. It took a very long time for Tim to like any kind of eggs, as he never ate them as a child. It was not until Tim was at Berkeley that he even tried an egg. In his freshman year, he ate all of his meals at the college cafeteria, and sometimes scrambled eggs and bacon were the only things available for breakfast. Tim was forced to learn to like them. He smiled at that memory, thinking that he’d been forced to like many things in his life.
Tim made a tray for Pam that included orange juice and coffee along with the bacon and eggs. If he could have located some kind of flower, he would have included that as well. Although he would never admit it to Pam’s face, he did enjoy the little sexual fantasy game, including the part where Pam had somehow slid out from under him and handcuffed him. But that also spoke to Pam’s desire to always be in control. Sure, Pam got off on being dominated, but at the end of the day, she would let you know one way or the other that she was running the show.
When Tim entered the room, Pam was sitting up with her back against the bed board, looking at herself in the mirror across the room as she brushed her long blonde hair.
“Oh, my darling, what a sweet thing for you to do,” Pam said, smiling as Tim placed the tray in front of her.
Tim took his cup of coffee from Pam’s tray and walked over to the window. He saw two men in military fatigues speaking with each other. “Exactly how much security do you have, Pam?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you that, Timothy.” Pam took a bite of her eggs. “But enough. Why do you need to know?”
“Well, it would be pretty difficult for me to walk out of here. It’s really a long walk back to Baltimore,” Tim said, half joking.
“Well, first of all, the security is not here because of you. And by the way, you are not a prisoner here. If you want to go home to Baltimore, then just say so. I can arrange for a ride.” Pam took another bite of her eggs. “I was hoping that we could spend the weekend together and talk over some things. Last night’s meeting did not really go as planned, and you should have been better prepared. That’s on me.”
“Yes, I agree,” Tim responded. “If you had told me that the entire purpose of our reunion was to assassinate the President,” Tim paused to make sure that he had Pam’s attention, “then perhaps I would have moved to Canada.”
“If Sebastian and I had not brought you back, Tim, you would still be wandering around Baltimore. But that’s another subject.” Pam finished the food on her plate and began to drink her orange juice.
“Anyhow, I really do not see this operation as a plot to assassinate the President. It is much more than that. It is a chance for the United States to take corrective action. Historically, this country has always taken corrective action when faced with adversity, starting with the Civil War of the 1860s. And believe me, we are on the verge of another one right now.”
Perhaps Pam was right about that. Tim could not recall a time when the country was so divided, and many people, especially the younger ones, no longer had faith in the electoral process. Maybe laws should be changed where the winner of an election would have to receive at least 60% of the popular vote or a runoff election would be required. However, that probably would not completely satisfy everyone. The losers would still whine like always.
“Sebastian said last night that the Agency predicted that the President would win in 2016 and not the woman? How did you know?” Tim asked Pam.
“First of all, people lie, so you have to include that in your calculation, and anyone conducting an honest poll would know that. The problem is that the poll takers already have a bias. Most pollsters really wanted her to win so they would be on the right side of history, and they were looking for any data to support that.”
Gunshots sounded somewhere in the woods, and Pam turned her head for a second before continuing. “Hell, I wanted her to win, but I was 90% sure she would not.”
Pam did appear sorry that a woman had not yet been elected President, but in her mind, the first woman to hold the office would most likely be a Republican. Men just would not trust a woman Democrat.
More shots sounded outside, and Tim was beginning to get concerned. “Pam, is there any chance we’re being attacked?”
“Oh, that’s just the boys playing some type of war game in the woods. It’s one of the disadvantages of living here. The Agency likes to have these training exercises, and our woods here are very similar to the ones in Eastern Europe.”
“Don’t the neighbors complain?”
“We don’t have any neighbors for five miles in any direction. You don’t remember much about living here, do you, Tim?”
“Well, I certainly don’t recall any paramilitary training happening in my backyard,” Tim replied, laughing.
“That is something new, and I admit it’s a pain in the ass, but it’s also part of the deal.”
“The deal” Pam was talking about was that she did not own the house. It belonged to the Agency, although it was listed in Pam’s name for tax purposes.
Pam finished her breakfast and got out of bed. She gave Tim a kiss and thanked him again for providing breakfast, then headed to her bathroom.
“Tim? I have to go into Leesburg and do some grocery shopping. I thought you could come with me and get out of the house for a while. Interested?”
“Yes, I would love that,” Tim replied.
“Okay, give me thirty minutes. Maybe we can have lunch.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” he answered, still looking at the men in fatigues.
It did cross Tim’s mind that he could probably ditch Pam in town and make his way back to Baltimore, but why bother? It would be easy enough for Sebastian and Pam to find him again. He could, of course, go to the police, but who would believe him? He no longer knew anyone at Langley or the FBI. At one point in his career, Tim had been badged into the FBI at both Headquarters and Quantico, meaning he could walk right into the buildings and speak to almost anyone, but those days were long gone. On the other hand, both Sebastian and Pam most likely still had contacts at the FBI, and a phone call would be all it would take. “Hello FBI, this is CIA Agent Pam Hall, and my husband thinks he’s invented a killer fork which will be used to assassinate the President.” Tim had to laugh at the absurdity of his situation.
Pam came bounding down the front steps wearing a very tight pair of blue jeans with brown boots and a white cable knit sweater. “Ready to go?” she asked cheerfully.
“Lead the way,” Tim responded, following her out of the house.
“I can’t wait to show you my new car,” Pam said.
Darrel came around to the front of the house from somewhere in the back. Pam saw him and waved. “We’re going to Leesburg, Darrel. Do you need anything?”
“No, ma’am, but thank you for asking.”
“He’s such a nice kid, don’t you think, Tim?”
Tim did not know how nice Darrel was or was not. All he knew was that, like Toby Wheeler, Darrel was built like an NFL linebacker and could most likely tear Tim into two pieces.
“I guess, Pam. How long has he been around?”
“Oh, not long. Maybe about a week now. We never know who we’re going to get. Langley just sends me a profile before they get here so I can make sure they’re legitimate.”
“So, where’s the secret security room?” Tim thought that he might as well ask just to see how Pam would answer.
“It wouldn’t be a secret room if I told you where it was,” Pam answered with a laugh. “But I’ll tell you what: if you can figure out exactly where it is, I’ll give you a tour.”
“You know, Pam, when things slow down, you and I could start hosting Spy House Weekends and sell tickets.”
For a second Pam seemed to take Tim seriously, but then she started to laugh again. “Tim, you’re such a funny guy!”