Intimations of Geography

chapter eleven -- a single .22-caliber bullet

"I'm terribly sorry to hear of the unfortunate demise of Mr. Longstreet," said the Suit, in the thirty-third floor office of Sendai-Nakamichi.

Jane was standing in the center of the room, eyeing the Heavy and the large case which the Suit had resting at his side. Lincoln was wearing a heavy coat and sunglasses, several days from a shave. He leaned to his left as he was seated on an ottoman which was brought into the middle of the room for him. The sunglasses were for the lingering hangover from the concussion which he'd sustained, and the heavy coat masked the large pillow of gauze on his chest and over the top of his shoulder. Jane didn't look the slightest bit perturbed, fully confident.

The Suit picked up the case, as though it were Jane's, and contained merely some boring business documents, as though the sum of cash within it barely rated in the business transactions to which he was accustomed. Inside the large case was the cash which had been brought before, including the thirty percent he had initially skimmed for the transaction. "This is the full sum," he said simply, "as a token of our appreciation for destroying his records. Also, sir," he said, addressing Lincoln, "Your release will be forwarded to the major press outlets at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, New York time." The Suit bowed, deeply, and returned to his office. The Heavy escorted them through the hallway, the Dali paintings replaced by meticulous reproductions of El Greco.

At the end of the hallway, once through the frosted and tinted glass doors, the elevator car was awaiting Jane and Lincoln, its door wide open. Just as they crossed the gap which opened, an inch across, into a four hundred foot drop, Jane held her hand out to the Heavy. His face inscrutable, he thrust his hand into his pocket and returned to Jane all of her metallic items: one set of keys to her car and loft, and a single .22-caliber bullet. The door closed.

Jane and Lincoln returned to her car in silence, Lincoln completely stunned at the simplicity and obvious satisfaction in the Suit's face when Jane had told him of the job, and that she had fulfilled the task for which the Client had engaged her. He asked no questions, and returned with the cash within ten minutes.

¤

By 6pm, the money was posted to Jane's numbered account, and Jane checked the balance. It was exactly the sum which Sendai-Nakamichi will announce the next morning that they'd paid Lincoln to buy a useless patent for oversensitive magnetic heads for hard drives. By 7pm, Jane had logged into the RTB servers, forwarding all incoming mail for the account 'jane' to dev/null. By 8pm, Jane and Lincoln had boarding passes to fly the redeye from LAX to Gatwick airport in London. Lincoln pondered the possibilities of living in England, and believed it was decidedly better than returning to Seattle, of which he'd so often fantasized. From what he'd seen on previous, short visits, he expected to greatly enjoy the weather.

"I think I'll be doing a lot of watching and listening in London," Lincoln said to Jane after they'd parked their car at a meter, leaving it unpaid.

"Non sequitur, love. Clue me in a little more, and I'll feel much better," replied Jane. They entered the International Terminal with their bags, which were large enough not to arouse suspicion, but small enough to be carry-ons. Jane passed through the metal detector, silently again, but without a bullet in her pocket. As they approached the moving sidewalk, Jane pulled a stick of gum from her pocket and began to chew, followed closely by Lincoln. About halfway to the departure gate, Lincoln put his arm on Jane's stomach from behind her, absent-mindedly stroking her scar.

"And you?"

"Me what?"

"You going to work? You don't need to, you know." Jane left the question unanswered.

Awaiting the flight in the first-class lounge, she and Lincoln shared a tall mixed drink in continued silence. She reached across the table, took the drink in her hand, and took a short sip, giving Lincoln an expectant look. Lincoln picked up on the hint and asked the first question that sprang to his mind.

"I need to know one thing. Am I still second best?"

"No, love, not anymore."

Timothy A. Clark
Los Angeles
June 2000