Forty Degrees Below

Chapter 15

The next day he woke up to the sound of Curtis's voice in the corridor. His bedroom door knob turned back and forth a couple of times. 

He shouted through the door. "Jake? Are you alright in there?" 

Jake scrambled out of bed, threw a robe on unlocking the door, coming face to face with Curtis. "Sorry, force of habit," he lied. "I get told off about it all the time back in Columbia." He said offering an excuse for the locked door.

"Jake this house is like Fort Knox, relax, your safe here." Anya was standing behind Curtis looking a little sheepish. "We're just on our way down to breakfast. Join us when you're ready."

Jake shut the door and leant against it. Safe? He thought. He felt far from 'safe' in this house. His head fell forward, and letting out a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and shook his head, reminding himself he should make the most of his stay, and grab this golden opportunity by the horns. He took a shower, dressed and made his way down to the breakfast room. As he approached, he heard the raised voices of Curtis and Anya. He walked in bracing himself for the worst.

"Good morning," He said, trying to sound natural. Nothing! Curtis had his back to him and made no attempt to turn round, and Anya was busy eating, looking down at her cereal.

"Oh, I haven't come at an unfortunate moment, have I?" He said, milking it for all it was worth.

"No, no," said Curtis confronting him, smiling falsely, "Just a little disagreement."

"I see, well if you'd prefer I come back..."

"No, wouldn't hear of it old boy please sit, help yourself, and enjoy."

Jake thought of an appropriate answer to that statement but resisted the temptation. He grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat opposite Anya. She made no attempt to look up.

Curtis came over and sat down next to him. "Anya was just explaining the events of yesterday; I didn't realise it was quite so fraught. It was a good job you were there Jake."

"Well, I don't know what she told you, but it was of little consequence," he said trying to diffuse the situation.

"This Bilderberg guy, what do you make of him Jake?"

"Oh, him? Nothing to be honest Curtis, with all respect to your wife, I wouldn't read too much into the situation."

"So, you don't think it's anything I should be concerned with?"

"No! Have you thought more about the conversation we had yesterday?" Jake said, trying to change the subject, or not.

"About writing a piece about me? Not really Jake, though the events downtown alter the landscape somewhat."

The wrong answer, Jake thought. "In what way?"

"I don't mind threats to suppress my work, I've had it before from the mentally unhinged, I can deal with that, but when they get personal  involving my wife, then that's a different proposition completely."

Jake was burning up inside. He couldn't stop shaking; he was so angry. "Excuse me Curtis, but what exactly did Anya tell you he'd said?"

"The truth," replied Anya.

"Forgive me," Jake said. "Wasn't the 'truth' of the matter the fact that these, so called threats were made against your husband, and he alone?"

"But Jakey," she said fluttering her eyelashes, and giving him a sickening smile, "remember, you weren't privy to those conversations. If you remember, you were stuck outside busy watching over me, yes?"

He conceded he wasn't going to win this particular argument; she'd resorted to her old tactics, and last night seemed like a million miles away, but she didn't know him, and when he'd got the bit between my teeth? Let's just say; he was in it for the long haul. So he just hoped she had a head for heights because she was going to need all the nerve she could muster to score the winning runs over Jake Cassidy.

He caught her looking at him and held her stare. She made no attempt to turn away, outmanoeuvre, deceive, or control. It was a pleading, questioning look that had a familiar essence entwined in the memory of last night. The signals were confusing. He felt drawn into an endless whirlpool of feelings and thoughts, but to win, he wanted cold and calculated, hard and manipulative. He was in unfamiliar territory, and sinking fast.

He turned to Curtis, who appeared preoccupied with his thoughts gazing at nothing in particular. Jake glanced back at Anya, and her eyes continued to plead with him.

Trying to block his meandering thoughts he attempted to draw Curtis back into the conversation, "so what do you think Bilderberg want with you?"

"That's a good question Jake, and one that I've been giving a lot of thought to, yet haven't been able to fathom it out. Maybe they know something I don't," he said shrugging his shoulders. "It beats me, but I must be doing something right. Otherwise, I wouldn't have attracted this attention.

Anyway," he said looking across at Anya, "if you'd met up with your girlfriend like you told me you were going to instead of spinning a yarn to your old man, then we'd be none the wiser, and would be getting on with our lives blissfully unaware. Now, apparently, because of your deception we've got Bilderberg and probably the mafia threatening my family with pain of death, if I so much as mention I'm proposing to collaborate with Jake on a piece for the media."

"Oh, Kurt," said Anya, "you do exaggerate sometimes, but on this occasion you're probably not far from the truth, but I draw the line at you suggesting I was 'spinning you a yarn' about meeting my girlfriend. If I remember correctly, it was you who'd suggested meeting up with my friend, without any required input from me. Still, that's by the by now, but you're right, it would be too risky doing a piece with Jake when there's so much opposition to the publication in the first place," she added hopefully.

"Anyway, you haven't explained how you've got involved with these guys in the first place!" He said staring at her.

"May I make a suggestion?" Said Jake, cutting in before this went any further. "Perhaps we're all jumping the gun a little here. I think we need to slow down and do a little investigation ourselves, find out what the furore is all about before we go pressing the panic button. I mean, take this rolled up newspaper, for example, they left behind at The French Press yesterday; I've been scouring its pages trying to find any clues that were left behind when they left in a hurry. You never know, they may ultimately have been targeting the wrong guy," He added.

"That's a good idea Jake, and once we get to the bottom of it, I promise you an answer to the question one way or the other."

"Thanks, Curtis," Jake said looking across at Anya, but he was surprised. He expected her to react in some demonstrable, negative way. Instead, she just looked sad. Jake was disappointed, he expected more from her, it made winning less fun, but to use a tennis term analogy, he was one nil up, in this three-set match.