by Gene Cowan
Jonathan peered down the corridor from his place of concealment, wondering if the guards had seen him yet. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the barrel of his gun. It wasn't loaded, of course, but it would make a good blackjack in a scrape.
Footsteps reverberated up the hall. Jonathan ducked behind the bulkhead and prayed a silent prayer to the Gods of Those Who Are Persecuted For Just Doing Their Jobs. The footsteps passed without comment. Jonathan vowed there and then that he would always pray from now on.
He eased himself from the darkness and made his way cautiously down the now empty corridor. The elevator down the hall emitted a pleasant chime, and the doors slid open. Jonathan hid in the shadows. Gene emerged from the elevator, holding a box of office supplies and muttering about something incomprehensible. He looked around, seemingly lost. Spotting Jonathan, he ambled over.
“Excuse me, but have you seen a story called ‘Plain Brown Wrapper’? I'm supposed to be in it, I think. Or rather, hope.” Jonathan pointed mutely towards the rear of the magazine. “Thanks.”
Slipping quietly into the elevator, Jonathan relaxed his grip on the blaster. He was safe, now wishing only for the quiet comfort of his bed and the luxury of sleep. It had been a hard day for the assassin, employed as he had been by one of the richest men in the world to fulfill a long hit list which RJ Pembroke had been compiling over the years. Now he was nearly finished with the list. Reaching the basement level, he exited and hopped into his car. He did not stop until he reached the Washington Beltway and became only one of thousands of Ford Escorts. He prided himself on his choice of non-descript cars.
Jonathan was not prepared for what he found when he arrived home to his typical suburban townhouse. Inside, lying seductively on the couch, was a girl- more beautiful than he had ever seen in his life. Her long, blonde hair was tousled ever so slightly as it spilled over smooth, milky white shoulders on its way to the small of her back, which, he suddenly noticed, was barely covered by something which really couldn't even be called a garment. Actually, the most coverage her body boasted was from a small, white card, tied around her neck with a satin red ribbon. Jonathan murmured a silent but understood hello and she held out the card. He grasped it with a faltering grip and read it.
“Keep up the good work, Jonathan. But all work and no play makes Jonathan an unhappy employee. Thanks. RJ. P.S: Her name is Teri.”
Jonathan turned and smiled. He was lucky that he worked for such a man. His thoughts were interuppted by an urgent message from the instinctive center of his brain. He realized in that instant what a great hold nature still had on her most intelligent creation. Man could rationalize and analyze all he wanted, but the fact is, he felt unable to control his feelings and automatically moved in her direction, leaving his shirt and shoes in his wake.
Jonathan was amazed at the sweaty reality of it, nothing like what he had been hypnotised into expecting by countless television programs, a clean, sterile event within satin sheets and soft music. Not the real thing. Humans were animals, and the act was as neccesary as eating. It was natural, and he had allowed himself to enjoy being messy and became engrossed so totally that he hadn't noticed that he had broken his right index finger until this morning, when the throbbing pain awoke him from the most blissful sleep he had had in many years. Teri was gone, in her place was a note. Jonathan read it with trepidation, smiling as he finished. She liked him. Once again, the animal instinct in Johnathan's brain became dominant again, and he wondered what it would be like to succumb to this instinct and settle down with a woman, perform his duty as a human man and provide children to the world. His days of service to RJ Pembroke were over, he would only serve nature, become an instinctive creature that lived for today, not giving a thought to tomorrow. Jonathan had become obsessed with his identity as a human being, as an animal, as the most intelligent species on this planet. A species who had built up mysteries and rituals surrounding the most natural of animal instincts in the world. He then thought of all the other obsessions he had had through his life… VCRs, cars, lifting weights, and drinking wine coolers. Maybe, he thought, this is another one of my superficial kicks.
Jonathan started thinking, and decided that although it probably wasn't just another superficial kick, he couldn't make any money doing it, so he figured that he would go back to doing what he did best, that being taking care of RJ's business. He made this decision, but suddenly was gripped by a desire to find out where Teri had gone. He picked up the phone and dialed RJ's private line.
“What?” said Pembroke with an irritated vibrato.
“Jonathan here. Just wanted to thank you for the gift.”
“My pleasure. Or yours, depending on how well it went...”
“Pretty well. Not quite what I expected, but not at all disappointing.”
“Well, I wanted to give you something that you didn't have.”
“Thanks. By the way, where did you get her?” asked Jonathan.
“Why, do you want more?”
“No, it's just that she's gone.”
“Well, I can't just force her to stick around, you know. There are certain things that even I have no control over.”
“But I think something's wrong. She left me a note…”
“Oh, yea? What did it say?” asked RJ, a glimmer in his eye that was almost audible over the telephone.
“None of your business, actually. Anyway, I think that she's in trouble.”
“You're kidding! Dark, you're finally a real man!” Pembroke patted himself on the back for setting the whole thing up in the first place.
“I don't mean that kind of trouble, RJ. Actually, I'm not quite sure what kind of trouble I mean. It's just the strange way she disappeared like that, and after that note…”
“Which said…”
“None of your business. I'd like you to help me find her again.” Jonathan sensed that he would have to grovel soon.
“Well…” Pembroke hesitated, more for dramatic effect than anything else. “Sure. I feel a sort of responsibility for you. I've taken you under my wing, made you a real man. Of course, if you would only take my advice and read a few Hemingway novels… anyway. I met her at a bar in Manteo, North Carolina. Let me find my map… Never mind. Sit tight, I'll be over in a few minutes.” The phone went dead.
Jonathan waited anxiously for his arrival. His vigil seemed interminable after 4 hours went by. He tried again to call.
“Busy. Still. That bastard has just forgotten about me entirely. He's talking to someone else and just doesn't give a damn about me. Damn.” Jonathan trudged upstairs to the bedroom and flopped onto his bed. “Damn.” He picked up the note and reread it. “Damn, damn.” He stopped trying to call after about 9pm. He didn't want to piss anyone off over at the Pembroke household by calling too late. He fell asleep, and the night passed.
He felt a surge of energy from someplace he did not know that energy could be stored and struggled to his feet. The blood raced from his head to his feet and he steadied himself against the wall. He felt a weakness without her that he knew he could not handle life without having her around. He grabbed his keys and headed for North Carolina. He stopped first at his mailbox. Jonathan was a person who hated being alone, and loved getting mail. It reminded him that someone cared enough to make some sort of contact with him, even if that someone was the IRS or Virginia Power. Getting mail, he thought, is just a reminder that you are alive. He opened the box, expecting the Marketplace and other circulars. Surprisingly, he found an overnight letter, postmarked North Carolina. It was from her. He was so astonished that he read it out loud, to himself.
“I can't tell you where I am, or why I am here. But I miss you, and wish I was with you. It's hard to explain why, after one night, I am feeling this way, but I am. I'll see you again soon. Please don't tell anyone that you have received this. It could be very dangerous for me...”
He dropped the letter into the passenger's seat of his Escort and popped the clutch on his way out of the parking lot. It was only a matter of hours before he would hit the North Carolina state border.
He stopped at the McDonald's in Fredricksburg, and thought about what he would say to Pembroke when he finally got hold of him. He wondered if RJ would have the decency to call and explain himself. His thoughts quickly turned to Teri, and what had happened to her. He finished his bacon, egg and cheese biscuit and tossed the wrapper in the trash can on his way out to the car. Gunning the engine, he whipped out of the parking lot, generating nasty looks from a few old ladies that had gathered near the front windows of the restaurant.
He pulled up in front of the North Carolina Welcome Center, at the end of the causeway to the Outer Banks. Pulling the parking brake, he wearily got out of the car and climbed the steps to the main building.
The man behind the counter was less than helpful. He refused to answer any questions, which Jonathan found strange, because he had only asked the questions and typical tourist might as, such as “How do I get to Manteo?” or “Where is the bathroom?” The man simply pointed towards the walls, which were covered with rows of pamphlets.
Jonathan was searching for a pamphlet on how to find the restrooms when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar back, obscured by very familiar flowing blond hair. He dashed out to the parking lot, almost in time to catch her, but she jumped into a white Rabbit and made for the exit. Jonathan raced to follow her.
Jonathan lost her a couple times as he raced down the Outer Banks Bypass, and each time he did, he got the distinct feeling that she slowed to allow him to catch up. He hoped that their destination was close, he felt an overwhelming biological necessity building in his body. They crossed the small bridge that spanned the estuary dividing Manteo from the rest of the Outer Banks, and soon, the Rabbit came to a halt at a small, abandoned gas station. Jonathan, without regard for his training and experience as an assasin, pulled in behind it and parked. He jumped out of the car and ran up to the driver side door of the Rabbit. The door opened.
Expecting a beautiful girl with silky blond hair, Jonathan was naturally quite surprised when a new-wave kid with long hair got out of the car. He suddenly realised how stupid he had been. It was all a lure. His training, years of learning, had been tossed down the drain because of a woman.
“Well, it seems that I have misjudged you,” apologised Jonathan, who was tied, bound and sitting next to his boss, RJ Pembroke. “How'd they get you?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Jonathan thought about this. He decided that although RJ was his boss, he was also his best and only friend, and he couldn't ask him to betray his long history of not explaining anything. “Nah. What's important is that we're all together again.”
RJ screwed up his face in disgust. “Yea. Nothing I like better than some real male bonding, especially when bound.”
“I see what you mean. So, tell me more about Teri.”
“What is it with you? I mean, are you obsessed or something? She's just a girl,” replied Pembroke, struggling to free himself.
“Yea, but… well, she's a girl. What else can I say?”
“Well, maybe I understand. Anyway, what did you do that got these people so mad at me?”
“What people?” I asked.
“You know, those punks that broke into my office.”
“I don't know anything about them. I'm just as confused about this as you are.”
“Who said I was confused?” asked RJ, putting on his ‘In Charge’ face.
“So explain to me what's going on, then.”
RJ laughed his characteristically manic laugh, and changed the subject. “Did you see my new car?”
“What new car? There isn't one out front,” Jonathan replied.
“What? My new Ferarri?! What have they done with it?!!” RJ struggled fiercely against his bonds, rubbing his wrists raw, but loosening the ropes slightly. Their captors had struck a nerve with Pembroke.
Jonathan was hit in the face with a rope as RJ flung them aside and jumped up, intending to break down the door. He succeeded.
“This is a nice little place,” remarked Jonathan, looking around the slightly cramped café.
“Yea, I like it. It's named after a character in one of J.R. Tolkien's novels.” He winked at the waitress, who I thought was dressed a little too darkly.