The Royal Sonesta Habor Court
Baltimore, MD – 6PM
The Royal Sonesta Harbor Court lined the waterfront, providing its high roller tenants a beautiful view of both the rows of docked yachts and the dark blue stillness of Inner Harbor. The interior was decked in five-star ornate furnishings, each room a spacious accommodation.
Xander and Fiona sat at Explorers the hotel's restaurant with half a bottle of Pinot Noir left before them. Fiona donned two sparkling diamond earrings and a little black dress, while Xander wore a slim dark Tom Ford suit. Xander was an attractive man, especially when he dressed up like tonight. He stood with a chiseled frame and a hard jaw line, peppered with dirty blonde stubble. His crew cut of blonde hair always fell disheveled over his forehead. Their waiter arrived to the table, bringing with him an assortment of fine desserts.
"Yummy..." Fiona commented as the server left them to the rest of their meal.
"Yeah, it looks pretty good. You want the Tiramasu right?" he responded.
"I wasn't talking about the food, darling..." Fiona purred, looking up at Xander with smoldering eyes. Xander's face blushed to the color of the Pinot that he swirled between his forefinger and thumb. Their smiles connected, taking them away from their clandestine lives. For the moment, they weren't spies but honeymooners, lost in each other's trance. Xander decided to surprise Fiona with an anniversary night on their way back from Geneva. He decided to fly to BWI airport rather than Dulles and treat her to a romantic night in inner harbor. The flight, as usual, was a mental workout as he reviewed each variable of Intel obtained from the trip.
Gregory had Intel about the four missing scientists. He sent a text message to a number originating in Bethesda, MD. Who are Henry Bosco and Caroline Keener? How are they connected?
Xander sometimes referred to as the Bobby Fisher of spy craft, possessed unique cognitive abilities. Not only did he have a photographic memory, but he was able to deduce scenario probabilities and analyze his way through real events. This afforded him the prescient ability to often anticipate what would come next. He had not always had that remarkable ability – it was only after a horrific car wreck killing his parents that he ignited his genius. He suffered severe head trauma from the crash that wiped the memory of his life before it. Waking up in the hospital at eight years old became his earliest memory. Not only had he lost his parents, he had lost the memory of his parents, he only visited them through one vivid recollection of the crash that often surfaced in his dreams.
He was recently shocked to learn his closest friend from Sparta, Ezra Gonet, was alive and a terrorist code-named Agent Zero, who was planning an attack against Washington, DC. Their motivations and endgame still remained unclear, although Ezra was rotting in a high security 'off the books' prison cell.
For the past three months, Xander had his reservations about the events of July fourth. Xander knew that Ezra, a trained operative, would never have killed Jooles so long as she was his body shield. It was an act of surrender. Ezra had said that Xander would be put to the test.
In the end you will be faced with a choice, Xander. Did Project Sparta turn you into mindless soldier – a deadly machine, an emotion? Or did you maintain your humanity through it, objective and independent? There's the choice, Xander, will you act on emotion or reason? I know that conflict is in you.... And I really want to know the answer.
An image of Ezra laying on the terrace, looking up at Xander's loaded gun flashed before his eyes. The creepy, maniacal smile. The blood pooling beneath Jooles' temple.
"Xander!" Fiona begged for him to return from his mental wanderings.
"Sorry..."
"You're thinking about him again aren't you?" She sounded disappointed.
Xander squared his eyes on his wife and explained. "It was all a test, Fiona. Ezra planned to kill Jooles all along. She was friend and he wanted to see if I would let the emotion outweigh my reason. If I gave into the emotional response, I would have killed him. The reasonable response – arresting him. I passed his test. But what was he testing me for? I have no idea, but I have a feeling that July Fourth was only the beginning... " Xander spoke with difficulty and only silenced when Fiona's hand grasped his across the table.
"He was a crazy terrorist, Xander. We can't possibly understand their moments... Let's just enjoy ourselves tonight," she pleaded with alacrity.
Xander eyes refocused on his date and inspected her hair and how it fell to her shoulders, a recent cut in order to blend in with her newly found civilian life. "So how is it?" Xander struck a more serious tone, the indication was received. Her life now primarily consisted of attempts to domesticate herself through do-it-yourself projects and social circles of stay at home moms. Her suburban life had struck her dull; the only way she coped with it was by treating it as a cover. The transition from being one of the nation's deadliest and most talented operatives to cooking apple pies and attending book clubs was harder than expected.
It was one year ago that they had falsified her death in Moscow, Russia. Wanting to marry Xander Whitt, she knew there was no way to procure something that resembled a normal life within the confines of Project Sparta's clandestine commitments. In an effort to finally gain normalcy in their life together, the two decided to stage her death. Xander made sure she stayed at an arm's length from his missions, despite her incessant curiosities and requests to taste the field again. She could not help herself. She had the itch.
"You know at times, I feel like I betrayed my country. Like some sort of military deserter. Dishonorably discharged or something like that. I faked my death to get out of my duty." Her eyes lowered.
"Fiona, it's not the same thing. Sparta is different. What they demanded from you and still demand of me is beyond patriotic duty. You are just enjoying a much earned early retirement." She nodded, hoping to believe what Xander had said.
"Yeah... I know... but it's lonely... I don't have anyone when you're away... sometimes I feel like I saw more of you in the field than I do now ... but I mean I got my friends, but come on I got nothing in common with them. The hardest part is the futility of it all, I'm not doing anything. I can't live a two-dimensional life, I'm not wired that way," she explained with candor.
"Civilian life is that tough, huh? I can't really remember when I was a civilian..." Xander said.
"Whatever! You can remember everything, Xander...." She interjected, laughing as the wine grabbed her.
"Oh give me a break, our time at boarding school was not civilian, if anything it was just another military experiment. Oakmont seems like forever ago..."
"Yeah... Yeah... Yeah... We all had it rough Xander, don't go feeling sorry for yourself again..." Fiona laughed.
"I never feel sorry for myself!" Xander smiled back.
"Whatever! You always come back from wherever all mopey and down." Fiona was transfixed on the conversation, she was always amazed by the conversations that two married clandestine operatives could have.
"Well maybe I should have been the one to fake my death in Moscow and then you could be the one out in the field still...." he posited.
"No that would never work.... You're too good of an agent and your pancakes suck." They both burst into a hushed laughter, but then their smiles fell flat. A silent chord struck as they retreated to a reflection of their lives in that moment of every moment. They were happy. With such a difficult youth, happiness was never a priority. They weren't used to it. Their joy had a disquiet to it.
"So you're lonely..." He looked up from the last few sips of his wine glass. He saw sitting across from him the girl he met in the Compound, innocent and bashful. In one look, she conveyed a message. Fiona knew that being a genius, Xander picked up on everything, so when difficult conversations approached she often remained mute.
For a few moments they spoke without words, they never really needed them. The silence only broke by Xander. But then shoulders slumped forward slightly as a thought dawned on him. "But... I wouldn't be a good father. I'd always be gone." Fiona sized him up and reraised him.
"Yes you would." And then again Fiona spoke with just a glance. She brought a spoonful of Tiramisu up to her mouth, flipped the spoon upside down and slowly slid it out. She licked her lips and arched her eyebrows in a playful flirtation, knowing she had Xander on the hook.
Five minutes later, Xander and Fiona burst into the hotel room, body against body, kissing passionately. Fiona tugged at Xander's tie as they pressed up against the wall. Xander's lips trailed her neck, until they spun off the wall and tumbled onto the bed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marty Jacobs paced to his desk where Catherine Mueller's file lay spread out its surface. His phone vibrated in his pocket.
"John..." He had been expecting FBI Director John Fangold's call.
"Marty, I got your message. Ms. Mueller is being questioned but she has been unresponsive. The shock of the assault appears to have lingered," he updated.
"I want her transported here to DC and I want a detail on her. No one in or out... We cannot have this terrorist coming back to take care of unfinished business, she is too valuable of an asset right now," Jacobs explained.
"I understand... and when she recovers?"
"No one in or out?" Jacobs stressed. The Director remained silent on the other end, awaiting explanation. Jacobs sensed this and continued.
"If this gets out we could have full-scale panic on our hands. We cannot risk it."
"I'll arrange transport." A slight reluctance hung behind the Director's tone.
An abrupt click confirmed his hesitance to carry out the orders. Jacobs tossed the phone on the desk indignantly and then his eyes focused in on the headshot of Catherine Mueller in her dossier. His eyes narrowed on the feeble scientist.
She's the only person who has seen the bacteria, she's the key...
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