Chapter Thirty two
Erin and Michael landed at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport as a summer shower swept up the Potomac. The aeroplane slipped into its allotted bay in front of the upturned egg box-like main building. They parted in the three-tiered main hall; Erin headed for her vehicle in the terminal three car park; Michael used an ATM before collecting his car.
The George Washington Memorial Parkway took Erin along the south bank of the Potomac. Central Washington sat on the opposite bank, to her right, and the Pentagon and then Arlington National Cemetery lay on the left.
She left the built-up Metropolitan area and entered residential McLean–part of Fairfax County. She gazed down the banking at the quiet waters of the river and thought of Johnny and the look in his eyes as he announced that he was leaving. Then she thought of home and a hot bath, but that would have to wait. She had requested that the debriefing session with her director, Karen Blakely, take place right away.
Blakely and Erin had been recruited and trained up, at the Farm, at the same time. Blakely came from a well-heeled Washington family - her father had been a director with the CIA and, to her the Agency was just a game–a deadly game.
Two years previously Karen, while working undercover in the field, dismissed intelligence about an attack on the American Embassy in Angola. The building was destroyed by a bomb and ten personnel and fifteen civilians killed.
Erin thought at the time that Karen’s career was over, but three months later, during a period of turmoil in the Agency, she was promoted to Director of NCS. Erin, among others, from that moment on built up an unhealthy resentment for her boss.
After the security check she parked her car, attached her badge and then strolled along the walkway which led on to the arched entrance to the CIA building. She had to find out who was pulling the strings behind the surveillance of Johnny. Whoever, had almost killed her twice, so her safety was not of importance. Was there a demon in the CIA or the government? The way to find out was through Karen Blakely- tactfully. If she went in shouting and blaming people–tongues would tighten.
Erin stood outside Blakely’s door for a second, took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in!” shouted a low woman’s voice.
She opened the door and entered. Karen Blakely sat in a dark blue suit tapping away on a computer keyboard, her hair shorter than Erin remembered.
“Erin,” she said, after looking up from her monitor, “take a seat.”
Erin pulled the seat out, away from the desk and sat down. The room had numerous photographs hanging on the walls; one, next to her framed degree, was of Karen playing baseball with an older man, whom Erin assumed to be her father.
“So, what happened in that old mine in the Mojave Valley?” Blakely asked.
Erin gazed past Karen out of the window at the old headquarters building. “I thought your trainee would have informed you.”
“Michael Catone is no trainee. He was to carryout surveillance on you because we thought you had been compromised.” The computer screen gave her face a light, blue complexion. “I want you, as the case officer, to tell me what happened before you write up your report. There’s a team on site at the moment, but until the water subsides, there’s not much they can do.”
“What made you think I was compromised?”
“The reports you sent in suggested that were the case.”
“I see,” said Erin. She decided that any more confrontational questions would be counterproductive; the way to get the answers she wanted was to turn the tables and spy on the Agency.
Erin went through the sequence of events, carefully leaving out any interaction between her and Johnny.
“What’s your assessment? Do you think that’s the end of the threat?” Blakely asked.
Erin laughed and then said: “Well, it’s the end of the neo-Nazis, but as for any supernatural involvement–who knows!”
“Okay officer, you can write up your report. Thank you!”
As she drove home Erin thought: one way to find out who was behind all this was to get into Karen Blakely’s computer, there were classified files she could access through her own terminal, but to get the juicy stuff on this case she would need to access the director’s machine; the only drawback being the password. But then she smiled as she signalled to pass a large, red truck.
Erin cruised along the street in Glenn Dale Maryland where her real house was situated. The house in Annandale was rented and set up to look like she stayed there.
The neighbour’s kids were playing baseball on their front lawn; the scent of magnolia’s filled the air–it was a perfect early summer evening. The sun had began a slow descent as she pulled into her drive.
Inside, her house was humid and there was a stale odour; so she switched on the air conditioning. A wave of cool air swept through the rooms and replaced the humidity.
Erin dumped two Wal-Mart bags on the breakfast bar. She opened the large silver fridge/freezer to start the process of scrapping out-of-date food and replacing it with new stuff. The house phone rang when she had her head in the fridge compartment.
She pulled her head out and slammed the door, then ran into the lounge.
“Hello,” she said holding the receiver to her ear, but there was a click and the line went dead.
Unnerved, she peeked out of the side of the closed blind. All was as it had been when she drove up: the kids were still playing; the sun was still slowly falling out of the sky.
“Oh, probably one of these computerised dial ups,” she said to herself.
She switched on the television, and the noise of an inane game show filled the room. The sound comforted her and calmed her nerves.
In her bedroom, Erin took off her clothes and donned a silk robe. She then entered the bathroom and ran a hot bath; she would have a soak before dinner.
Back in the kitchen she put half a chicken in the oven and turned on a gentle heat. Her mobile rang; so she searched through her coat, which still sat on a breakfast bar stool. She looked at the small screen, but there wasn’t a number. “Hello,” she said as she held the phone to her ear, but, like the house phone, the line immediately went dead.
“Okay!” she shouted, “now I’m really spooked.”
She switched the cell phone off and then went into the lounge and pulled the landline cable from the wall.
After turning the hot water bath tap off she entered her bedroom and drew out the top drawer of her bedside unit and took out her handgun, checked it was loaded and put it in the pocket of her robe.
After checking that the house was secure she slid off her robe and slipped into the bath. The water soothed her as she rested her head on the top of the back end.
“Got to calm down,” she told herself, “got to think rationally. She let her toes play with the foam from the bath salts she had added.
Her eyelids became heavy as she slipped into a relaxed state of mind. Then, tottering on the edge of consciousness, she felt her skin tingle. The water was becoming hotter. She checked the tap, but it was off. Small bubbles rose through the water all around her. The water had begun to boil, and her skin was turning red. She pounced out of the bath showering the floor tiles with frothy water.
The bath was a frenzy of bubbling water as Erin grabbed a towel and gently dried her aching skin. Pulling on her robe she ran from the bathroom sticking her hand in the pocket which contained the gun. She felt assured as she ran her fingers over the cold contours of the firearm.
The front door bell rang; she ran into the bedroom and looked out between the curtains, but as her view was limited, she saw no one. The bell rang again.
Descending the stairs she drew her handgun and made her way to the front door. She unlocked the door and opened it as far as the security chain allowed. She pushed the barrel of the gun through the gap and shouted: “Go away and leave me alone or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”
“Jeez, I just love you feisty American women,” said a familiar voice in a soft Scottish brogue, which washed over her in a wave of joy. She felt goose flesh spread up from her legs and flow over the rest of her body.
“Johnny,” she said as she slumped onto her knees. “Is it really you?”
“Are you going to let me in; or am I standing out here the rest of the night?”
She took off the security chain and then fell into his arms. “Am I glad to see you?”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled the top half of her body away from him.
“How did you find out where I stayed?”
“Oh, I have my sources!”
“Don’t ever leave me again,” she said.
“I won’t,” he said, pulling her towards him. “I won’t.”