Date: Tue, 8 May 2012 09:02:50 -0700 From: Micheal Mikey Subject: The Game He Lost Chapter 12 The Problem "Abe, if you are there, please pick up." Abe gripped the edge of the table where Esposito monitored the communication equipment and listened as his mother's voice came over the speaker. The team had been checking the messages on his answering machine regularly in case Boko Haram decided to contact him directly. This message had been left less than ten minutes ago. "I'm sorry to be such a worrywart, dear. You are probably safety tucked in bed sound asleep, but I heard you weren't at work today. I'm going to popover there and bring you some soup, okay? I'll let myself in so you don't have to get up. Bye." The message ended. Abe felt his stomach drop. He looked around. "Your mother can't let herself in," Finn said. "I changed your lock. Unless you gave her a spare key on Friday?" "No. I never thought of it." Abe chewed his lip. "When she finds out her key doesn't work, she'll bang on the door. If I don't answer, she will get worried. She might get the building superintendent to break the lock." Chief Esposito scowled and muttered something about Murphy's Law. "What will she do if she gets into your apartment and sees you are not there?" he asked. "She'd be even more concerned," Abe replied. "She believes I'm sick. If I'm not there, she might think I went to a doctor or a hospital." "And then?" "She would call the rest of the family. They would go into full panic mode. If they don't hear from me they will probably call the police." "This has to be contained now or the security of the mission will be compromised." Finn handed him his phone. "Does your mother have a cell phone?" "My dad gave her a new cell phone last Mother's Day for emergencies. She keeps it in the glove compartment but I don't know the number by heart. I've never used it. I've got it in my address book, but that's at my apartment." "Is it registered under her name or your father's?" Esposito asked, swiveling toward his computer. "Uh, my father's." "Okay. No problem. The captain showed me this trick a few weeks ago." He hit a sequence of keys. Seconds later the screen filled with lines of names, address and phone numbers. "Here it is." Abe dialed the number Esposito read to him and put the phone to his ear. It rang eight times. "She's not answering," Abe said. "Maybe she hasn't left yet." "If she's anything like you, she would be on her way," Finn said. "Better try again." Abe dialed the number and let it ring twelve times. On the thirteenth ring, the phone was picked up. As soon as he heard his mother's voice, Abe exhaled in relief. "Mom, I'm glad I caught you, I got your message and?" "Abe? Are you all right?" "I'm? I've felt better." "Hang on; I've got to pull over." There was a pause. "There. I can't stand those people who talk on cell phones while they are driving. Now, what is it that couldn't wait until I got there?" "Mom, I hate to have you come all this way for nothing. It's really sweet of you to offer to bring me soup, but?" "Abraham, how sick are you?" "It's just the flu." "You haven't been answering tour phone." "I turned off the ringer so I could rest." "You don't sound like yourself. Your voice is shaking. Is someone there with you? I can hear noises." Abe glanced around the crowded tent. "Must be a bad connection. And I've got the television on." "You said you were resting." Abe rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Yes. Mom, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I was about to go to bed and I'm not up to company right now." "Nonsense. I'm not company: I'm your mother. I'll be there in thirty minutes." "Mom?" "Someone is honking at me. I have to go. See you soon." The connection was broken. Abe gave the phone back to Finn. "She's worried about me. I couldn't stop her." "We could have her intercepted," Esposito suggested. "Cal in a complaint to the D.C. police and give her license number." "No," Abe said. "Please don't do that. She has a perfect record." "Wouldn't do any good, Chief," Finn said. "If Abe's family is worried about him, they would just send some else to check up on him. We can't afford a security break at this stage. Our choice is to let him play out the cover he has established." Esposito looked at Abe. "How fast a driver is your mother?" "She taught me everything I know." "Oh, hell," Finn muttered. ~~~~~~~~~~ Abe locked his arms around Finn's waist and pressed more closely to his back as the bike tore around a corner. He had asked to go home yesterday, but he hadn't really meant it, and he hadn't imagined going home like this. The trip from the warehouse to his apartment building should have taken at least forty minutes. Finn had covered it in twenty-five. They hit a low curb at the driveway of Abe's building and they were momentarily airborne. Abe tightened his thighs over Finn's hips, his teeth clacking together hard with the impact of their landing. The tires screeched as Finn squeezed the brakes. The back wheel swung out as the bike skidded in a ninety-degree turn and nosed into a narrow gap between two cars in the lot designated for visitor parking. Finn shut off the engine, kicked down the stand and jumped off the bike. "Do you see your mother's car?" Abe pulled off his helmet and scanned the parking lot. "No, she isn't here yet." "All right, let's go." Finn didn't wait for Abe to swing his leg over the seat. He caught Abe by the waist and lifted him off. Vaulting over the low ledge that separated the parking lot from the sidewalk, he then set Abe on his feet. Holding their helmets in one hand, they headed for the building's rear door. "Do you have your keys ready?" Abe jogged to keep up with him as he shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his key-ring. "Got it." Abe's apartment was exactly as he had left it. He didn't know why that surprised him. He had been gone for less than a week. The avocado plant looked a bit droopy and there were more leaves on the carpet around the fig tree, but otherwise, nothing had changed. Yet it looked smaller. It had once seemed so cozy. Now, it seemed? confined. "We don't have much time." Finn tossed their helmets into the closet beside the door. "Take off your clothes." "What? Finn, we?" "You told your mother you were getting ready for bed." He strode straight to Abe's bedroom and switched on the lamp. "Where is that pink T-shirt you were wearing on Friday night?" Abe followed. "Under the pillow." "Okay." Finn pulled back the pillow and tossed Abe the T-shirt, and then rumpled the bedding so the bed would look used. "You change, I'll disappear." Abe caught the garment and toed off his shoes. "Where?" "Balcony. Your plants block the view of the patio door. I'll stay out of sight in the shadows." Abe reached for the zipper on the front of his pants. "Won't you be cold?" Finn's jaw tightened as he watched Abe's movements. "No. I won't be cold." Abe's hand stilled. His heart pounded. It wasn't only from the hair raising motorcycle ride. "Do you want some help with the zipper?" Abe shook his head. Finn swore and left the room. Abe blew out his breath and finished undressing. He had just pulled on his T-shirt when he heard the faint sound of jingling keys. He kicked his clothes out of sight under the bed, dropped his watch on the bedside table, grabbed his robe and hurried toward the front door. Before he could reach the door, he heard the scrape of a key. There was a muffled exclamation, followed by a light knock. "Abe?" He glanced around. Finn was gone. Nothing stirred except the branch of the fig tree that was closest to the balcony. He fastened the knot in the belt of his robe and unlocked the door. Claire Locke stood on the threshold. Her silver-streaked, brown hair was pulled into her usual neat bun. The blouse that showed beneath her thick gray sweater had tiny flowers like the wallpaper in her kitchen. A hint of the almond scented hand lotion she always used floated in with the draught from the corridor, along with the aroma of chicken soup from the round plastic container she held. She was so blessedly ordinary and familiar that Abe wanted to cry. Claire shifted her handbag and the plastic container to the crook of one arm and gave Abe a lopsided hug. "I'm sorry to get you up, dear, but my key wouldn't work." Abe returned the hug. He held on a little longer than usual before he drew his mother inside and closed the door. "I'll give you another key." "Would you like me to warm up some of this soup for you?" Claire asked, heading for the kitchen. "It's chicken and rice, your favorite." "No. Please, don't go to any more trouble, Mom. I ate a little while ago." "All right." Claire put the container in the fridge and picked up the electric kettle. "I'll fix you a cup of tea with honey. You always liked that when you had a cold." "Thanks, but I don't have a cold." "Yes, I can see that." She filled the kettle and plugged it in, then came back and studied Abe carefully. She tested the temperature of Abe's forehead with the back of her hand. "You look flushed, but you are not feverish. I don't think you have the flu. Actually, you look as if you are brimming with health." "It, uh, comes and goes." "Abraham." Claire hesitated. She took Abe's hands. "Darling, is there anything you want to talk about?" "No, Mom. Why should there be?" "I came over here because I'm worried." "Yes, I'm sorry about not answering the phone, but?" "Oh, Abe, you never were any good at lying. I suspected as much last week and now I can see the truth written all over your face." His mother couldn't possibly have guessed, Abe told himself. Finn wasn't visible. Claire couldn't know anything unless she had seen them arrive on his motorcycle, but even then she wouldn't have any idea what was happening. "It started on your birthday, didn't it?" Claire asked. "Yes, that's when I started to feel ill." "Please, Abe. You don't need to pretend any longer. I understand." "Mom?" "I realize thirty was a milestone for you. We are all aware of how you love to make plans. I was concerned that you might be putting too much importance on the dates, and when you didn't come to your party, I feared I was right." Abe struggled to grasp what his mother was saying. He lapsed into confused silence. Claire drew him to the couch and sat down beside him. "Elle and Martha have been worried, too. They said you sounded distant when you returned their calls. When Joshua heard from some of the other children at his Little League that you weren't at school this week, he told his mom and so Martha phoned to check. She knows as well as I do that you love your job. Only something very serious could keep you away." "Mom?" "I've respected your privacy because I know how determined you can be when you set your mind on something, but you don't have to go through this alone. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Abe. Everyone has the blues now and then." She patted his hand. "You can always talk to us, darling. We all love you, and we want to help you in whatever way we can." Understanding finally dawned. Tears threatened once more, but this time for a different reason. His family didn't believe he was sick. They thought he was holed up in his apartment because he was going through some kind of still-single-and-turning-thirty crisis. A biological clock issue triggered by his birthday. His mother hadn't brought over chicken soup; she had come to give him a heart-to-heart talk and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. As if he didn't already feel guilty enough for deceiving his family, now he discovered that they were not only willing to forgive him, they were meeting his lies with kindness. If only he could tell them the truth. He was in the midst of a terrorist kidnapping. He didn't have time for an emotional crisis? or time to fall in love? or time to have his heart broken. But wasn't that exactly what was happening? Oh, God. Was it the truth? "Don't give up, Abe." Claire smiled, her face settling into a network of lines that were as sweetly familiar as her streaks of gray and her scent of almond lotion. "Life seldom goes exactly as we planned." A lump formed in his throat. "Yes, I'm starting to realize that." "I hope so, because sometimes we get so focused on what we are searching for over the horizon, we can walk right past the treasure that's under our feet." It must have been an effect of the stress, Abe thought, feeling the first tear inch down his cheek. He had cried more in the past five days than in the eight years since Stuart had left him. He knew what he wanted, didn't he? He knew what he was searching for. He did. "Let's forget about the tea, dear." Claire handed Abe a tissue and returned to the kitchen to unplug the kettle. "You look as if you could use something stronger." ~~~~~~~~~~ Finn checked the luminous dial of his watch; almost an hour. How long did it take to placate a worried relative and show her out? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tensing and relaxing his muscles in sequence to keep up his circulation. A siren sounded in the distance. He tuned it out and concentrated on the murmur of voices coming through the glass door. Abe and his mother were speaking too quietly for him to distinguish any words. He could distinguish the tone, though. It was the same tone he had heard when Abe had spoken with Nneka Ibru. It was full of sympathy and compassion; supportive and loving. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the hard case of his cell phone under his right knuckles. He had switched the ringer to vibrate silently - the team would call him if Boko Haram scheduled the next ransom drop. Finn had already warned Abe he might be needed at any moment. Could he have forgotten why they were here? No. Not Abe. He was as serious as the rest of the team when it came to the mission. Finn knew Abe was scared. He was determined to go through with it, anyway. Finn admired Abe's courage. It was hard to face one's fear. Show me more, Finn. He dropped his head back against the building's wall and looked at the sky. He had shown Abe the constellation because he hadn't wanted to show how he felt. There weren't many stars visible from here. The balcony of the apartment on the floor above shielded his view overhead. The building across the street and the light from the city concealed practically everything else. Didn't matter anyway. He knew they were there. Stars don't leave. They are always right where you left them. Abe had understood without being told. No one else had made the connection. It had taken him years to figure it out himself, yes, stars didn't die. Unlike parents and sisters and lovers, they were safe. They were constant. They would live forever. Abe's insight didn't surprise him. Right from the start, Abe had had a way of looking past the surface into the depths he had successfully guarded from the rest of the world. Finn turned his head to glance into the apartment. Abe and his mother were still on the couch in the living room. They were on their second glass of wine - odd they were having wine when Abe was supposed to be sick. They wouldn't be able to see him past the leaves of Abe's plants and the glare of the lamp on the glass door, but he was careful to keep in the shadows. He was good at that. Standing on the outside, looking in: passing through without stopping. Did Abe understand that, too? Abe nodded at something his mother said, Claire patted his knee and stood. Finally, Finn thought. He edged closer to the glass and watched as they walked toward the apartment door. Abe gave his mother a hug, locked the door behind her, turned around and then slumped back against the panels. His shoulders heaved with a sigh as he rubbed his face. Finn counted off ten seconds before he slid the balcony door open and stepped inside. He crossed the room, keeping his voice low. "How did it go?" Abe started and dropped his hands. "Did anyone ever tell you that you move too quietly for a man your size?" "Not in my profession. Your mother was here longer than I expected." "I'm sorry to keep you waiting." "No problem. There hasn't been any word from Boko Haram. Looks like you convinced your mother of your cover story." Abe shook his head and walked over to pick up the empty wineglasses from the coffee table. "She didn't buy it. She never believed I was sick." "Than what did you tell her?" "Don't worry, I didn't tell her classified information. I didn't have to tell her anything. Abe gave a short laugh and carried the glasses to the kitchen. "My mother assumed I was avoiding everyone because I was upset about my turning thirty." Finn followed him. The laugh hadn't been from humor. "And are you upset?" "That would be stupid, wouldn't it? There are more important things to worry about." "Not for me." Finn caught his shoulders. "What else did she say?" "She said I'm too? rigid." "You are not rigid. You are strong. And you are the most compassionate person I've known." "She didn't mean it badly. She said it out of love, because she's worried that I'm so focused on my goals I might miss seeing the obvious right under my nose." Abe shrugged off his grip. "Don't, Finn." "What?" "Don't touch me right now." Finn held up his palm and stepped back. Abe put the glasses in the dishwasher and brushed past him. "We should get back to the command center." "We have stayed away this long: nother ten minutes won't hurt." "You are wrong. They will hurt. I'm going to get dressed." Finn followed him to the bedroom. "What does she mean?" "I'm going to put my clothes on so we can leave." He dropped to his knees beside the bed and reached beneath it. He pulled out his jacket. "What did you mean about hurting? Talk to me, Abe. Tell me what's wrong." Abe thrust his hand beneath the bed again. This time he retrieved a shoe. He tossed it over his shoulder and got down on all fours so he could extend his am farther. "I pushed everything too far. I can't reach it." Finn solved his problem by shoving the bed aside. He knelt beside him and gathered the rest of his clothes. "I should have thought of simply moving the bed," Abe muttered, sitting back on his heels. "I guess my mother was right. I miss the obvious." "You've had a tough few days. Once this is over and your life gets back to normal?" "Normal. Of course. Once this is over you will leave and I'll pick up my life where I left off. I'll go back to work. I'll finish the baby blanket I'm knitting for Elle, I'll take my nephews to a movie on the weekend and return my library books. Those books are overdue. The fine must be stacking up and I wouldn't want to get into trouble." "Abe?" "Oh, yes. There's no lack of things to do. My car needs an oil change soon. I can schedule that for the weekend after next, and I really should shop for some plants to replace the ones that fell on the terrorist's head. The bookshelf looks so empty without those geraniums. Then maybe I'll call Paul and see if he still wants to go out with me. There. You see? I'll be fine. Give me my clothes, Finn." Finn looked at the garments he held. Abe's sweater and pants were crumpled into a loose ball. He started to hand them over when a flash of black cotton caught his eye. He hooked his finger under it and pulled it free. It was underwear. Briefs. With a white waist band and pouch in front. Abe held out his hand. Finn let the brief dangle from his finger. He imagined what it would look like on Abe. His blood started to pound. The undergarment didn't match the rest of his sensible clothes. It was sexy, meant for seduction, not comfort. Someone else might have been surprised by Abe's choice, but not Finn. This suited Abe perfectly. He might not display his sensuality, but it was there beneath the surface of the schoolteacher who worried about overdue library books. It was an intrinsic part of the man who loved his family and could weep over a stranger's son." Finn folded the scrap the underwear into his fist. "You took this off. Why?" "I had to. The lines would have shown through my pj's." Finn's gaze dropped to his hip. His robe had parted while he had been reaching under the bed. His white and blue stripped pajamas stretched smoothly over his thighs. Abe was right. The briefs would have shown through them, because the fabric was soft enough to outline exactly what it covered? and supple enough to reveal the way Abe's body responded as he watched. "Did you leave anything on under those pj's?" "Finn?" Did you?" "Give me my clothes, Finn." Finn looked Abe in the eye and pitched his clothes across the bed. They hit the far wall with a thud and thumped to the floor. Abe shuddered. Finn leaned toward him. "Paul wouldn't understand the underwear the way I do, Abe." "I don't wear it for you or him. I wear if for myself." "I know." "We should leave." "I know." "Now, Finn. We don't have time?" "We have a moment." "Yes, that's right. All we have is the moment. That's why we shouldn't do this." Finn slipped off his watch, reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and then put both on the floor behind him. He lifted his hand to Abe's face, holding it a breath away from his cheek, close enough to feel the heat of Abe's skin on his palm but far enough to leave the choice up to him. "You're wrong, Abe. The call that could end the mission might come through at any time. That's why we should do this; because all we can be sure of is the moment." Abe's gaze steadied on Finn's. He circled Finn's wrist with his fingers. Finn had never begged for anything in his life. He had learned not to. But the longing that washed over him as he looked into Abe's eyes was so powerful, it would have sent him to his knees if he hadn't already been on them. Just this once, he didn't want to be on the outside looking in. he wanted to taste the love Abe surrounded himself with before he, too, would walk out of his life. "Abe, please." Abe's fingers tightened. He didn't push him away. He lowered Finn's hand and brought it to one of his nipples.