Chapter 13
If you don’t want people to look at ‘em, don’t put ‘em up.
The lioness peered over her coffee, “I know you had a bad night.”
I dropped a spoonful of sugar into my coffee, and looked directly into her dark eyes, “How did you know where to find me?”
“The dancing Armadillo told me.” My hand automatically went to the stick pin that I was wearing on my jacket. She had given it to me the night we had gone to dinner. It was to be a keepsake from our evening out. She had made a point of telling me that it was a Texas good luck charm, and I had promised to wear it the whole time I was in Austria.
“And, so how did the Armadillo tell you where I was this morning.”
“It’s actually a transponder, sort of a little beacon that sends out a weak radio signal. As long as you are within a certain radius from our receiver, we can find you.”
I took a sip of my coffee, it was sweet and comforting. Now, it was my turn to peer over my cup, “We? Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’d really like to know what’s going....”
“I didn’t mean to get you involved. I just enjoyed meeting you, and it seemed nice to meet a normal man, someone who didn’t want to jump my bones and ask questions later. All I wanted to do was have dinner with a nice man, someone I could trust, and dance away my cares. I really didn’t want to get you involved....”
“Involved in what?” I said insistently.
“Oh, it’s nothing really, more of a misunderstanding than anything. What’s important is that you are okay, and I have at least this one chance to make it up to you.”
I wondered how she was going to make it up to me. It was becoming clear that she was into something very deep and that I would be swimming with the fishes long before I ever found out how deep it went. I wasn’t about to get my ticket punched for just having dinner with a beautiful younger woman. That’s a pretty harsh penalty for momentarily defying societal norms. No, there was something very sinister about all of this.
“Who was following me last night?”
“Actually, they are part of a team that had been following me. I knew they were there, but I really didn’t think they would be interested in you. I gave you the Armadillo as insurance. You know, just in case....”
Suddenly it dawned on me. I had been so preoccupied with figuring out what had happened to me that I had failed to notice that the honey-thick Texas accent was gone. She was now talking like a graduate from the London School of Economics. It didn’t really surprise me, and it didn’t seem important anyway.
“So, who were they, and what happened to that sweet southern drawl?”
“I suppose you noticed my accent has changed.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem very important at the moment.”
“I’m trying to be honest with you. It’s true that I live in Texas, but I have studied abroad....”
I raised my eyebrows, “London School of Economics...?”
She smiled, “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, it was just a guess. I hear a lot of spies are trained there.”
She looked at me disapprovingly, “...and it is true that I work for a private foundation that helps children in third world countries....”
“But, that’s only part-time isn’t!” I cut in.
“It’s true, I have other responsibilities, but really they have nothing to do with you. And, it is better that we don’t discuss them.”
She was a curious mix of power and sensitivity. I suppose most women are. They never have been the weaker sex. They are smarter than we are, have better pain tolerance than us, and they endure longer. Visit a convalescence home and you won’t find men in the majority. But, they also feel more deeply than men, hurt more easily, and are more sensitive. Maybe that’s why they seem so complicated to a simple creature like a man.
I reached across the table and placed my hand on hers, “I really would like to know if either of us is in any real danger. Can you tell me that much?”
She looked directly in my eyes for a moment. My...could those eyes hold my gaze, I almost forget the circumstances of the moment. Then she turned her head and looked toward the hall at the back of the cafe.
“CB, I don’t mean to seem rude, but in my haste to get over here this morning, I completely forgot to go to the loo. Would you mind excusing me for just a moment or two. When I come back, I will try to clear this whole thing up.”
She stood and as she did, I stood as well. I placed my hand on her shoulder, “You aren’t going to run out on me are you?” She leaned in close to me, gave he a hug and said, “Not at all, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.” She patted me on my chest, kissed my cheek and spun toward the hallway.
“Here, watch my bag while I am gone. Be right back.”
I watched her walk into the restroom and then glanced down at the bag. The presence of her bag allayed my concern that she might pull a disappearing act. No, she’d left her bag, she still had delicious Vienna coffee to drink, and there was a story she was going to tell me. She might slip away, but it wouldn’t be until she had done what she had come to do. I leaned back into my chair and looked out at the busy sidewalk. I sipped slowly on my coffee and anxiously awaited the return of the lioness. It was clear to me that her work with third world children was a cover. It obviously allowed her to move about freely, gave her credibility with government officials, and directed attention away from whatever her primary “responsibilities” were. The one thing that I was certain of was that the lioness was much more than she appeared.
After about 10 minutes I gradually came to realize what I had intuitively known all along. The lioness was not coming back. I walked to the unisex restroom and gently knocked on the door. There was no answer. I tried to open the door, but it was locked from the inside. I called for the waitress.
“I think my friend may have passed out in the restroom,” I told the waitress in a concerned manner. Quickly, a key was produced and the door was unlocked. The room was empty and the window was slightly ajar. Indeed, my friend had passed out, but not in the conventional sense.
I knew there was no point in looking for her, so I returned to the table, the bag clutched in my hand. I placed the bag on the table and automatically reached for the coffee. She didn’t want to get me involved, but in what? Why all the mystery? If she didn’t want to get me involved, why get involved with me at all. Maybe, she meant what she said, maybe she viewed me as just a nice guy and that meant something to her. Maybe she just liked older men.
It had been just a few months earlier, December 23 to be precise, when Kathy and I had been driving around Sacramento looking at Christmas lights. We pulled up to the curb next to an elegant mansion for a better view of the lights on display. We got out of the car and sat on the curb, basking in the glow of this Christmas wonderland. Apparently, the people inside were disturbed by our presence. The owner of the home stepped out on the porch and loudly directed us to return to our car. As we stood to leave, Kathy shouted, “If you don’t want people to look at em, don’t put em up!”
I looked at the purse and said in annoyed tone, “If you didn’t want me to get involved, you shouldn’t have been so damn good looking and so damn available.”
I opened the bag, and it was empty except for an envelope. The envelope contained an airline ticket to San Francisco, five $1000 dollar bills, and a note. I looked at the note. It was written on scented stationery, the Chinese character for good luck was a faded shadow that filled most of the page. She had written in ink. For a lioness, her handwriting was surprisingly girlish. The note read:
Another time, another place....
You are a very nice man, CB. Please take yourself out of harm’s way.
Use the ticket today. The money is for another trip, or that facelift
you really don’t need. I am so sorry to have involved you in this...LM
I stared at the note, l
ooking for clues, hidden meaning, trying to fathom what was going on. But, the note was what it was, and there was nothing more to be made of it. The message was clear, she had answered my question. I was in danger, and it was time to go. My hand instinctively searched my lapel for the dancing Armadillo. Apparently my dance program had been filled, the Armadillo had taken a new partner. It was no longer there.