Ingrams & Assoc 4: Beneath the Surface Ch. 01

I wondered if I'd ever see those women again. I didn't have to wonder for long. For about three days, there was some furor and interest. But then it died down, and the people with cameras had finally left - I had been showing where it went down, but declined any interviews except from law enforcement. Things were back to routine, and I had just finished as shift examining older tunnels that were starting to crumble, and would write up recommendation for new construction, which would piss off the city fathers since it was under a new mall, making it really hard and expensive. But as they say, every crisis is an opportunity, and a fire with two dead in the sewer probably made it easier to get some things done, so we were going to try to seize that moment. When I returned to my office and found April with her feet up, sipping some of my cocoa. She was with some older dude who sat a little less familiarly in my office chair.

They both stood as I walked in, staring at them.

"Don't people knock any more?" I asked, wearily. I was tired - the last few days had taken a lot out of me, and I was sleeping even worse than usual. Other than my nightmares, wading through the crap all day wore me out, and when bedtime came around, I didn't need any of the adverts for Ambien I'd seen on TV. I was out cold and slept like a log - a phrase I'd no idea where I'd picked up, could it have been Mom? But the last few days, I'd been tossing and turning, and having lots of nightmares, but different than the usual ones. I had drowning dreams, a few buildings on fire type stuff, and one - that had ended my night of sleep entirely - about the accident. Only this time, I was driving, and my parents were in the back. And when the truck loomed out of the darkness, I couldn't turn the wheel, despite trying to. When I woke from that, I spent almost an hour in the shower, trying to rinse off the sweat and bring my heart rate down.

The guy reached out his hand to shake mine, as I took off my heavy sewer-suit. I just stared at his hand, looked at him and said, "seriously?" at which April snorted.

"Sorry," he said, with that Scottish twang. This was that Dermot guy who'd been on the phone, obviously.

"I'm Dermot. I need to thank you for taking care of my ladies. What you did...well, it was way beyond what we needed. I mean, I do thank you for taking care of the situation." He added, hastily, seeing me recoil when he said it was 'way beyond' what they needed.

I just looked at him and then said, "I'm going to shower. We can talk when I'm clean. This is a shitty job. Pun intended."

And I went and showered in my little bathroom, luxuriating in the hot water and wondering what the hell these people wanted now.

Once I was done, I got dressed and in doing so, noticed someone had been through my closet, and most of my clothes (which really wasn't that much, to be honest)were packed in a large suitcase that wasn't mine. What. The. Fuck?

So I stalked back into my living area, interrupting a conversation between April and Dermot. April was sitting with her feet up on my second chair. Dermot was leaning against the main desk, both hands by his sides, gripping the desktop.

"So?" I said, holding out the suitcase. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Weeeeell," said Dermot, trying to smile, "You are. We have a bit of a...situation, you might say."

"Might you?" I asked, sarcastically. I was not warming to these people. I had killed in their defense - although I wasn't too cut up about that. They had tried to hurt me, so I was returning the favor, I thought. Plus, people who shoot at other people without having a clue who they were not good people, and the world is probably better off without them. I was pretty sure these were the good guys, but that didn't mean I liked them very much. They had -after all - put me in the situation where I could have been killed, and where I'd had to kill to avoid that.

"Yes," said Dermot, sitting back down.

"Thomas, please sit down for a second. We have things to discuss."

I glared at April, who reluctantly pulled her feet down, with a wry smile.

I sat, looking expectantly.

"Look," said Dermot, leaning forward and being earnest, "what you did the other night was remarkable. The guys chasing April and Megan were...not nice people. Obviously. And they work for even less nice people. And, unfortunately, now they know you exist. The guy who survived? You were very decent in saving him, and he has woken up and he remembers everything. Oh, he's not talking to the cops, but he is talking. And the people he is talking to are quite unhappy with you."

I digested this. Great. No good deed goes unpunished.

"I think it's time you tell me who exactly you people really are" I said.

Dermot and April exchanged a look.

"Who we are doesn't matter. We are an agency, like all the rest, and that's really all you need to know right now. What you don't know can't hurt you."

"Oh really," I declared, exasperatedly, "and you get to judge this, do you?"

"Yes," said Dermot, unflinchingly, "in this case, I do."

"So, they are coming for me? Be serious. The guy has no idea it was really me who did that."

"You don't get it," said Dermot, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter what they know. It only matters what they think YOU know. The thing is, it's worse than that. That web page I sent you? To convince you we are the good guys? Well, we took the pictures down, but it was still open on your laptop. And they saw it. So April and Megan's covers are blown now, too. They want April and Megan - well, mostly Megan, since she was onsite with them - desperately, and they think you have something to do with it. There she is, pic of her on your laptop, she comes to you for help when she's being chased. And what you did doesn't seem like the work of an amateur, even if it was. It's not hard to see how they look at this, is it?"

Fuck. I began to understand. Double fuck.

"The thing is Thomas, we feel responsible for this."

"Well, to clarify, I feel responsible for this, Thomas. I'm the one who came with Megan to your doorstep," interjected April, in a serious tone.

"And we will take care of this. Take care of you."

"By taking a trip?"

"Yes. Literally. You need to finish packing and then we must leave. It's not forever. What we did learn the other night has been shared with the responsible agencies so that they can do what needs to be done. These guys ARE going down, no question. But it's...going to take some time. When it's done you will be safe and fine and can come back and resume your...life."

"Such as it is", she murmured, under her breath. I heard her and I stared at her till she looked away, embarrassed. The bitch.

"Think of it this way, Thomas," said Dermot, trying to get my attention back on him. "It's an all expenses paid trip, to exotic climes, all on us, for three or four weeks."

"Exotic climes?" I intoned. "What the fuck? You people... I mean really. I got a fuckin' job here. That's pretty much all I have and it doesn't just stop or go away."

"We are an agency, Thomas. We have resources. We've already been in touch with your boss Mike and have arranged things. He knows you are going away for a while, and he knows it's for good reason and you are covered. Your job is NOT going away. It will be here when you get back. But right now, for your own safety, and for our peace of mind, you really need to go. And it is exotic. I know for a fact you've never been out of the northeast, except for one trip to Las Vegas. This is an all expense paid trip all the way up the west coast, from San Diego to Seattle. Different towns, different locations...come on. This is pretty awesome. Hell, I want to go."

He looked at me, and then carried on. "And -to be blunt - they know who you are. They'll have found out what you look like, and, Thomas, with the best will in the world, the way you look, you stand out like a black man at Klan meeting, you know? You won't be that hard to find. I say this with utmost respect, but you don't exactly blend in, you know?"

He smiled mirthlessly and leaned back.

"And you aren't going alone," said April, with a mischievous smile on her face.

"What, you get to come with me?" I asked, petulantly.

"No," she replied. "I'm required here. I wasn't in as far as Megan, so I can move around a bit and be less...noticed. No, you will go with Megan. She needs to be off the grid also. Go travel, Thomas. See some different things. Maybe get a tan."

I just looked at both of them and shook my head.

"I need to call Mike," I said. So I did. And he pretty much confirmed what they'd said about it being okay to go. He wished me bon voyage and said he'd see me in a month. "Or whenever."

Well, this sucked.

I didn't really like it, but I realized the reality and I packed up. Grabbed my Ipad,, my laptop and violin; finished packing my clothes and realized that, in fact, that was pretty much it. Everything I did was online -I made full use of iCloud and Kindles and all the rest of it. My book collection was digital and in the cloud, as was my music collection. TV and movies were all Netflix or Hulu, so they could go with me easily.

The one thing I did not have was a smart phone. I mean, what's the point? I don't have any one to talk to or text with. There's little point in a smart phone when you don't have anyone to be smart with.

Plus there was zero cell signal down there anyway, so there was just no need.

I was literally packed in about five minutes flat, which was a sobering thought. I remember reading a blog about a guy who made a point of never having more possessions than he could fit in his SUV. With what I had, you could fit it in the front seat of a convertible. I couldn't decide if that was pathetic or awesome. Probably both.

Two hours later I was sitting at Logan Airport, opposite Megan, who was obviously less than thrilled at her traveling companion, and an hour after that, we were airborne.

We sat together in business class, which was nice, since the trip was six hours in the air. It was the furthest I'd been from Boston. The only other time I'd been out of the area was to go to Vegas, a few years back. I got the obligatory looks from the travel crew, but since we were so far forward, we were seated first and everyone else didn't get to see me, since they came in the door behind us.

I played with the inflight entertainment while we traveled - I'd seen all the movies, but some of the TV shows were new to me. In my little dungeon I didn't have cable or satellite; I did everything on the Internet, and not everything was available to stream. So often I was behind the curve on TV shows, and it was nice to be exposed to something new.

After landing, Megan and I collected our bags, me with the shiny lime green hard case they'd provided me with and her with a black leather thing that looked all menacing. No doubt it dispensed hand grenades when you prodded it correctly. We trundled to get a rental.

Megan knew her way about; she'd obviously been here before, and I just followed, with a cap pulled down over my face, trying - and failing - to be inconspicuous.

Megan rented a red Mustang convertible. I was glad, because it was warm, sunny, and we could put the top down and I could actually be comfortable. Cars are an issue for me - they are to anyone who is my height. Folding a six foot six frame into a car takes practice; the only way I can be comfortable sitting in the back is if it's a big long car, like a BMW 7 series. It's why when I discovered we were traveling business class I was so pleased. There's just no way I can sit in economy without my knees sticking in my neck.

Again, Megan knew her way around - we climbed in the car, put the roof down and we sped off, somewhere up the coast to a town called Encinitas - a lovely by-the-sea town, all sandy and with awesome views, and even more awesome house prices, I discovered later. We pulled into a house up on a hill, overlooking the sea. It was an older house, with a veranda and it was just...nice. So far from what I was used to. The kind of house and view you'd see on TV shows.

Megan said to me, "This is home for the next four days. Lets unpack."

I asked, "Does the agency you work for own this? Is this like a safe house or something?"

Megan paused, grabbing her bag out of the back seat of the Mustang and looked over at me, strangely.

"No, it's a rental. Dermot's group found it on the Internet. Probably AirBnB or something like that. The whole idea here is to go somewhere we aren't known, and lay low. We don't have 'safe houses' as you think of them. This isn't Mission Impossible, ya know?" And she lugged her bag out and walked over the main door, knelt down and fished around behind a set of flowerpots and then said, "Taadaa!" as she showed me a key, with a smile.

She opened the door, we went in and checked the place out.

It was very nice. Well, of course, for me pretty much anything would be nicer than I was used to, but this seemed as nice as some of the places I had seen in movies or on TV. Well outfitted, nice furniture - well used but very comfortable. There were even pictures of a family on the wall. We checked out the bedrooms, and she claimed dibs on the master bedroom; I got what was obviously a guest bedroom. I looked unenthusiastically at its queen bed- I was going to have my feet off the end. Oh, well.

Then we looked outside, and boom, there was the view. It was a great view of the sea. Megan went inside to figure out if they had coffee or tea or something, but I just sat there, staring at the sea. I'd never seen the Pacific Ocean - in person - before. Not that it was that different from the Atlantic. But still, there it was. And here I was. This was different than anything I had ever done. The reasons I was here may have sucked, but I was here. Me. Wow.

Megan came out again, bringing two cups of what looked and smelled like coffee, but was too hot to sip. She sat down in the wicker chair, at an angle to me, looked out at the view and sighed.

"Wow, it's nice to be off the job for a bit. What a view. Man, this is gonna be great. You and me, nothing we have to do. Lovely..."

She took a sip of her drink and made a wrinkled face. "Shit, that's hot. OK then Thomas. We should talk a little, I think."

I tore my eyes from the calming view of the sea and looked over at her, questioningly.

"Ground rules. Ok, so there are people looking for us. It's doubtful they are looking for us here, but they do talk to other criminal enterprises. People have probably been informed, even those as far west as we are now. I doubt highly anybody out here will be actively looking for us, but still, better safe than sorry. So no phone calls or emails, ok?"

I just chuckled, mirthlessly, in response.

"Yeah, I know. No one to email, right? Either way, it had to be said. Our safety depends on it. Oh. While we are taking about that, here." Megan rummaged in her bag and pulled something out and threw it to me. It was an IPhone.

"That's yours. You know how to use it, I've seen you with an IPad. It's the twenty first century Thomas. You should have a real phone. We've taken care of the account. You need one because we may get separated. Either way, that's yours now. My and Dermot's numbers are already programmed in."

I looked at the sleek device and was amazed at how strong yet light it felt. I still had no one to call or email but I was a tinkerer. New gadgets were always welcome.

"Play with it later. Next, we'll be here a few days, and then we start meandering our way up the coast. I'm not setting up places to stay in advance, 'cause if we don't know where we're going, there's no way the bad guys can. We'll just stop where we feel like it, and find a bed and breakfast, or look for an AirBnb or something. We'll make it up as we go along. We may have to pose as husband and wife; are you okay with that?"

She was looking at me too intently for my liking.

"I guess I'll have to be," I said, guardedly.

She gave me a dazzling smile and said, "Good. I didn't think you would mind."

"Not likely anyone would believe it, though," I added.

The smile went away.

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Oh come on. Look at you. Look at me. Who's going to believe we are together? Does Dermot have enough money so I can buy some gold teeth and an expensive watch? Because that's the only way they would."

Megan put down her drink and said, intensely, "Thomas, don't put yourself down. I don't doubt that life has been hard for you. The loss of your parents, your injuries, your height, life in foster care. It stinks. But, you chose to give up being part of society. The world is still out here and you'd be surprised who can look past your issues."

I just snorted and tried the coffee myself. It was still too hot.

"Seriously," she persisted. "Yeah, a lot of people are superficial. Maybe even most people. But not everyone."

It was then I realized she knew way too much about me. How did she know about the accident and my parents? She must have seen the realization come over my face, because she said, "What? You didn't think we'd check you out? After what you did? You really couldn't think I'm going to be with you for god knows how long, and not know all I can about you? Come on Thomas, you are smarter than that. I know you are. I've seen your SAT results, and your final grades."

I glared at her.

"Well, I have. I know as much about you as it's possible to know in the three days we had to gather information. I work for an agency you know. What do you think we do?"

"Which agency is that again?" I asked, trying to at least create some kind of interchange in the conversation. It was all too one sided for my liking.

"Does it matter? A big one. With resources. One that is grateful to you. Very grateful. So grateful, in fact, that they've just pulled you out of a very dangerous situation..."

"That you put me in," I interjected.

"...yes, that we put you in," she acknowledged, without rancor, "and are giving you a free vacation, and then when that's done, we've got you an appointment with a first rate plastic surgeon who is going to do what you should have done years ago, which is fix your face. I'm still amazed you haven't done it before. Why not?"

There was nothing like grabbing the bull by the horns, I thought. I just shrugged and said, "It didn't seem important. I'm still... well I still work in shit, and I'm so stupidly tall. I just don't see..."

"... why any woman would be interested, yes? Or why people would want you as a friend? You chose to drop out of normal life when you were 19 years old. Nine fucking teen. You took the reactions of teenagers seeing a bit of a scary face and projected that to the rest of the whole world? You stopped trying and you ran away."

There was silence after that.

"And then you killed some people." She said, flatly, after taking a sip more the coffee.

I honestly didn't know how to react to that.

"What is this? Therapy?" I said, trying to lighten the conversation.

"If you like," she replied, sitting back and looking at me intently.

"And you, Mata Hari, are qualified to be my therapist, are you?" I scoffed.

"Actually, I am" Megan replied, quite unruffled by my remarks. "I have a degree in psychology and a masters in psychiatry. I was getting a PhD in criminal psychology when this...other opportunity, came up. So yes, I would think I am more than qualified."

After that revelation she continued to look at me, without expression in her eyes.

"Um. Ok then. Umm..." I didn't know what to say to that.

"Tell me Thomas. You are a smart guy. Do you think people don't take you seriously because of the way you look? Because of your height?"