The word, enigma, means riddle, or puzzle.
During World War II, Nazi Germany created a roto-cipher machine called Enigma, as a way of coding and deciphering messages. This was first discovered by one of its enemies—Poland, with the help of mathematicians from France. When Great Britain entered the war, Enigma cryptology went into full gear.
It provided the intel that helped in winning the war.
It’s much easier to break a machine-made code than to decipher the emotions and feelings of a human. Machines may be able to calculate outcomes, but most humans act first and think later.
Sadly, the end result isn’t always what we hope.
We are the ultimate enigma.
Jack was up for Ryan’s suggestion that they break bread at Duke’s Malibu restaurant. The food was great, the dress code was casual, the patrons were laid back, for the most part, and it was far enough north on the PCH that it didn’t attract the tourist flow from the Santa Monica strip.
By the time Jack got there, Ryan was already seated at one of the inside tables near a window—a great place to be as the sun set below the horizon. Jack knew Ryan would have asked that their order be put on the grill the moment he walked through the door. The menu was small, and those who came knew to order the catch of the day—seared rare and rubbed raw with seven spices—along with the grilled Brussels sprouts, and a hunk of the hula pie for dessert. Case closed.
Ryan beckoned Jack over, then tapped his glass to the waitress and held up two fingers. She nodded and by the time Jack had reached the table, she was at his side with a tumbler of Johnny Walker Blue.
When he smiled at her, she blushed.
Ryan laughed. “Does it ever get old?”
Jack looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You know—the effect you have on women.”
Jack shrugged. “You didn’t call me here to talk about my love life.”
“You’re right. In fact, it’s the last thing to do with what I’ve got to ask you.” He placed his napkin in his lap. “However, you’re close enough to the subject that you may have some useful insights.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
Ryan looked him in the eye. “I’d like to ask Donna to work for us.”
“Say that again?” The place was buzzing with talk and laughter, not to mention the crash of the waves just outside the window, so it seemed to Jack that he had good reason to ask Ryan to repeat himself, when in reality he’d heard his boss perfectly well.
He just hadn’t liked what he’d heard.
“I said I’d like to ask Donna to work for us.” Ryan popped a Brussels sprout into his mouth. “What do you think about that idea?”
Jack stared out at the water for a moment while he tried to think of a way to back Ryan off this harebrained scheme without seeming unprofessional, or worse yet, irrational about it.
Not to mention, the last thing Jack wanted was for Ryan to realize he’d fallen in love with a woman he’d never formally met. “I…I think it’s crazy. And stupid. She’s a wild card! She’s—”
Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I agree. I’m doing it.”
Jack put down his glass with a thud. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Yes. But you’re not talking from your head, you’re talking from your dick.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“We all have our reasons as to why we’re here, Jack. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re primarily here for the exact same reason that Donna would join us: to avenge a loss.”
“Okay yeah, I’ll admit it. I’m out for blood. But two wrongs don’t make a right. Remember that old proverb?”
“Of course I do. Here’s another golden chestnut: try it, you’ll like it.”
Jack frowned. “That’s an old ad slogan—for Alka-Seltzer.” Something he could use, right about now. Instead, he gulped down his drink and signaled the waitress for another. “Okay, let’s say you hire her. What’s she going to do? Do you know if she even types?”
Ryan’s brow went up an inch. “What difference would that make? She’d be out in the field—a fixer.” He smiled. “Like you.”
“Now I know you’re crazy!” Jack pushed his plate away. He took a big breath. He was just getting started. “You give her a license to kill, and believe me, she’ll kill, alright! She’ll be a killing machine—because she’s driven to avenge Carl’s death. If you do this, you’ll regret it.”
“I disagree. In the first place, her kamikaze tendencies will always be in check because, despite her loss, unlike you, she still has a lot to live for—her kids.”
Jack reeled back, as if Ryan had punched him. Touché, boss.
Instead he said, “There are other reasons, she’d be all wrong for wet work. Those kids have already lost one parent. Should something happen to her, who’s going to look after them? Her crazy aunt?”
“During your investigation of Donna, what was your take on her?”
Jack felt his chest tighten. “In…in what regard?”
“I’m asking if you ever saw her have a meltdown.”
“No.”
“Did she throw tantrums? Was she depressed?”
“No. She was…sad, I guess is the right word.”
“I can imagine why. It’s got to be frustrating to lose the person you love most in the world, and not be able to do anything about it.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack muttered.
He kept his eyes on the waves. It was high tide. The waves rolled in all the way under the pylons that held the restaurant well above the surf and sand.
The way he felt at that very minute, if a wave cracked the glass at that moment and pulled Ryan out with it, Jack would do nothing to save him.
He wondered to himself: Why should I? He’s going to ruin the one reason I have for living.
This deep emptiness was something Jack had not felt since he’d last seen Donna. Now it filled him again, like the specter of an unwanted friend. “Go ahead then, ask her.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “My guess is that she’ll take a pass.”
“You’re on. I’d bet a Benjamin on that.” Ryan reached for a roll. “In the meantime, you’ll head up her background investigation.”
At first, Jack was going to protest. Then it struck him:
Great. That way I can ensure she doesn’t get on with Acme.
In fact, it would be better all the way around. If Donna Stone were looking for revenge, she’d get herself into trouble with or without Acme’s help.
Suddenly, Jack wasn’t hungry. He drank his dinner instead.