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Mercenary

By: Salamis



There is virtually no sex in this story. Your comments, good or bad, are always welcome.

Chapter 1: A Convenient Ghost

I returned to my desk on shaky legs. It took several minutes in the relative solitude of my cubicle to slow my heart rate. I had held up well during the meeting, and I'm sure I never gave any indication of having been rattled. I was, but she never suspected. I first mastered how to hide my emotions as a pre-teen and I was very good at it; so good that it probably guaranteed my escape in this instance. 

Clearing my vision, I glanced at the reports on my desk, noting with interest the newspaper folded on top. It was opened to the horoscopes and mine was circled. This was an inside joke between Cheryl, the receptionist, and myself. I smiled at the forecast: "Wednesday will see momentous change in your family life. Embrace your new situation and it will usher in much happiness." Their prognostication had missed again.

Minutes ago I had had my first full 'dressing down' by a superior. The talk had been both loud and heated. Yet in reflection, I was not upset or angry with my boss, I was mostly confused. While my anxiety level had fallen I still didn't know why I was a target or where to focus my annoyance. 

It was so unlike her, so out of character. We had been working together for five years, the last two with her as my manager. Never had she expressed any displeasure with the way in which I conducted my job, quite the opposite. I had been promoted twice, been the recipient of several awards and in all of this Noelle had been my number one supporter. 

Earlier in our relationship I would have retraced my actions, seeking to find ways where I could still garner her approval. But I had grown since the days of being a trainee and Noelle was no longer my mentor, but a good friend. Sometimes, like this morning, that fact clouded my thinking; it certainly complicated my response.

Not only had she been displeased, she was almost beside herself in voicing that displeasure. I had been prepping for an important briefing and she berated me for not double checking the availability of a minor device; but it was a component we did not require, so the admonishment was uncalled for. The fault in her argument was apparent even before I calmly pointed it out. I couldn't imagine that she believed the things she had said. 

Then after she abandoned discussing my supposed incompetence, she questioned my temperament for the job itself. This whole episode made less sense the longer it continued. Fortunately, I extricated myself after the first long lull in the discussion. It's hard to argue alone and my silence made escape easy.

It was unthinkable to me that Noelle and I would be on opposing sides of any argument. We held very similar views on most subjects and I knew we also had a genuine affection for one another. She had been my mentor when I joined the business and we had been friends almost since the day we met. I looked at her more like a sister, and I had no doubt she saw me with similar fondness. It was the idea of straining our personal relationship that actually distressed me. Something was obviously bothering her and it most likely had nothing to do with the briefing or with me. 

As soon as I digested that assessment it took me but a minute to stride back to her office. It was lunchtime and her door was closed, another uncharacteristic sign. It didn't matter; I knocked forcefully then entered when I heard a sound on the other side. 

She was sitting across from me, elbows on the desk, and head in hands as I took a seat. She barely acknowledged my presence when I saw the pain in her eyes. Before I could speak she started reversing herself.

"Peter, please accept my apology. I didn't mean to say what I did. It wasn't fair to you..." Then the levy broke. With fat tears streaming down her face, she cast her eyes downward avoiding my gaze.

Without remembering leaving my seat, I was suddenly kneeling by her side. I thought about rubbing her back to comfort her but hesitated. Instead I began to speak softly near her ear.

"Hey I'm OK. I knew something was wrong, I heard it in your voice. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I know you want to help. But it's not something I feel comfortable talking about with you. Oh, I don't mean it that way either..." She at least attempted to look me in the eye when she said that. I noticed she was fidgeting with her wedding ring as she spoke. "I'll be fine in a moment. There's no need for you to stay." 

"Sam?" I said. Her eyes closed in response, and I understood. Perhaps it was a birthday or their anniversary, or maybe just their song playing on the radio; whatever it was, something had triggered the memory of her late husband and with it came the ensuing outburst. I had been the designated 'safe' target. Perhaps that assignment was a price of our friendship.

"Please go home. I can handle things here. You need to see about you. Do you want me to drive you?"

"Who said I was going home?" She stated that almost defiantly and with a stare designed to make me back down. I was not in the mood to negotiate so I gave her the same voice back.

"I did, or would you rather hear it from Sandersohn?" This last statement was made in a half-joking manner but I knew it would have impact. Sandersohn was our branch manager, my second line, and Noelle's boss. She was too private a person to want him in her affairs. I knew having mentioned his name that her resolve would waiver. It did. She didn't have to say it, I could read her expression.

"Is there anyone I can call for you? You shouldn't be alone now. Hell, I can take off too if you'd like."

Noelle looked at me as if I had two heads. Obviously my company was not demanded or required at her home. "I can call my mother. She's there now...and you don't have to drive me home. I can make it myself." That last part was said as she stood up, a cue for me to stand also.

Our offices were in downtown Philadelphia and her home, like my own, was in walking distance. Hers was perhaps ten minutes away. I would have readily walked her there if she had been more agreeable. However, I knew not to challenge her on her proclivity for privacy.

I was concerned for my friend. She was a person of considerable strength and character. I had learned much from her over the years and the time I spent with her was very precious to me. She was a damn good manager, a great salesperson, and a good friend. Though how she accomplished the former while being so standoffish with upper management continued to puzzle me. 

In the field she was widely admired by all of her customers for her honesty and integrity. She never cut corners to make a sale, never oversold a product's capabilities and always, always met every commitment. When she was literally pushed into management several of our largest customers refused reassignment to other Reps. They would do business with us only if she were their salesperson. As a result, she was the only manager I knew of who still held direct accounts.

As a manager she was fearless. I had seen her go toe-to-toe with Sandersohn on issues related to customer concerns on several occasions. That was no small fete. Sandersohn was a formidable leader who had little tolerance for mistakes and for those who hedged their speech when they approached him. With a dozen mangers reporting to him; all but one literally feared him. Noelle was the exception, and as a consequence she commanded the man's respect.

My friend had but one serious weakness: a dead husband whom she carried around her neck like an albatross. He had been gone all of five years, yet it wasn't until the last year that she finally seemed to be coming out of her shell and discarding her grief. I took pride in the fact that I had subtly prodded her in that direction during our many talks after hours. It took years of appealing to her vanity to get her to dress more fashionably and be friendlier around her coworkers. Those who worked for her loved her, but others weren't always sure how to take her.

While she continued to wear pants suits predominately, occasionally she would slip on more overtly feminine outfits. She was also wearing a touch more makeup, smiling more often, and actually engaging people in light hearted conversation. She would still break out her reading glasses on a moments notice and her hair was always styled in a severe French braid but I was working on those issues.

I often thought it would have been better for her if our desks were on the floor above with the rest of our sales and administrative staffs. As it were, our offices were located on the floor with classrooms, conference rooms and executive briefing rooms. This relative isolation in 'the Center' on the floor below fed on her heightened desire for privacy. Ironically our jobs entailed a good deal of public speaking and she excelled at that.

Even with her standoffish manner there were several men upstairs who actually attempted flirting with her now and again. It likely happened when she deemed to wear a dress. Me, I always thought she was pretty, so seeing her fending off suitors was mildly amusing. Actually when she let her hair down she favored an olive skinned double of the actress Sela Ward, though I never told her to her face. It would have caused her too much embarrassment. 

Now there had been a setback, just as people in the office were beginning to change their attitudes about her and see her as the truly nice person that I knew her to be. I only hoped that she had limited her outburst to me and not anyone else.

Somehow I felt I should have seen this coming. Yesterday she had been more guarded when we talked. I asked her repeatedly if everything was OK and she shut me down. We still talked at the close of the workday, but the conversation was solely focused on the job, another clue that something was amiss. Now there was this incident to analyze. Whatever had ushered in her mood swing eluded me. She had never been that emotional in the five years I'd known her.

After she left the office, the rest of my day went quickly downhill. In fact, Noelle stayed out for the following two days that marked the remainder of that week and I got to play manager in her absence. It was a learning experience I knew I would not seek to repeat. Those two and half days felt like months. By weeks end I knew I didn't like managing people.

You see, I'm in sales. I got here through a route few others had taken. I graduated from business school with an undergrad degree in accounting. I loved accounting but hated being an accountant. So a year after my first career misstep I applied for and was accepted as a Systems Tech for Big Blue. My employment tests determined that I had an aptitude for the technical side of the business. They spent a year training me in technology and how to think like a tech. I loved it.

Two years later they moved me into sales, and dedicated me to larger, more complex opportunities. It turns out I also have a knack for motivating people. I'm not a cheerleader per se, but I do have an ability to quickly ascertain a person's personality strengths so I can exploit them. In the process I get them to enthusiastically become inside salespeople for our cause. Conversely, I can oftentimes almost smell fear in someone during a sales call. 

I never thought that those abilities would make me a good salesperson but I was wrong. So when I took over for Noelle as manager that week I was presented with a number of situations where simply motivating and encouraging my teammates proved the ideal course of action. 

The majority of the time, my colleagues knew the solutions to their own problems. I merely facilitated what they should have done on their own. That aspect of the job was a lot of fun, maybe because I was prepared for the role and I was quite good at it.  

What I was not prepared for was the number of meetings and requests for meetings over trivial issues. I found the schedule exhausting. I also loathed the administrative tasks and was amazed that so much administrative crap could come up in only two and half days. Too many decisions were made at the management levels that should have been made by the employees themselves. 

When you looked closely these issues often revolved around matters of trust. Management simply didn't trust their employees, so the system was purposely designed to thwart our interests by burying us in paperwork. Huge bureaucracies always confuse the paper with the process.

By late Friday I was ready for Noelle to return. I had called her half a dozen times over those days to see how she was doing, careful not to mention any detailed happenings at work. She seemed to respond in her old voice which relieved me immensely. We even had a few good laughs over little disagreements between her and her mom. 

Thinking back to that week, had I not been paying such close attention at work I might not have been blindsided to my own problems at home.

Chapter 2: Another Course of Study

Tuesday of the following week found me in the process of preparing for a C level briefing, that's one where the guests are CIOs, CFOs, or CEOs, otherwise known as the 'poobahs' to quote my father. We had an economist as our guest speaker and he was quite picky about how he wanted the room arranged for his talk.

I had just finished moving tables into the classroom and changing the seating configuration. The new arrangement would leave room for only twenty, but each attendee would have more than enough real estate to spread out their materials. 

I smiled to myself as I thought how I happened to be here moving furniture. I guess this part of my job fell into that section of the job description that said 'and other duties as required' (a small addendum they failed to mention during my original interview).

As I turned my attention to a test of the projector, my cell rang.

"Hello, Peter speaking."

"Mr. Stuart?"

I recognized the voice of Tim Sullivan, our last summer intern. Tim was recently returned to school and I was surprised to hear from him.

"Tim. How are you? And you know its Peter; only small children call me Mister. What 's up?"

"Peter, are you in the Center? I need to see you about something very important."

"Sure I'm here. I'm setting up for a briefing tomorrow so I should be in the rest of the afternoon. I have a few minutes now if you want to talk?"

"No, we can't do it over the phone. It's something I need to show you."

"Well you could send it to me."

"It's not that kind of thing. Hmmm, say would you have time around four? I can bring it to you." I heard the urgency in his voice. Tim was not necessarily an excitable kid. Quite the opposite, he was cool under fire which was one of the reasons we asked him back for a second summer. If he needed my help I could certainly make the time.

"Four works for me. I'll see you then." 

"Thanks Peter. I hate to sound so mysterious but it really is important."

"No problem. Bye"

Replacing the cell in my pocket I caught movement by the doorway. Noelle came in looking over the changes I had made to the room. My expression must have signaled something because she was asked, "Anything wrong?"

"No", I said regaining my smile. "I just got a call from Tim Sullivan that's all."

"Tim? How's he doing?" she remarked, a grin now escaping her lips. Noelle rarely smiled at work, except when she was in either my company or Tim's. 

"Good as far as I know. He plans to drop by this afternoon."

"Oh, tell him I asked for him if I don't see him later."

"Will do." 

Noelle made her exit as quietly as her entrance. She DID have a reputation for being anal. Her standing in the doorway was no coincidence. She was checking up on me, making sure that the facility was made ready for our guests tomorrow. This wasn't an indictment of my abilities, it was just her way. Most of my colleagues were intimidated by such managerial intrusions; not me, I mainly diverted her attention and enjoyed her company.

The rest of the day was routine. A few minutes after four I received a page from the receptionist that Tim was in the lobby so I went out to meet him.

Tim came toward me wearing what I saw to be a forced smile. There was some apprehension in his eyes but I had no context in which to place the emotion. Whatever the purpose of this visit, it was serious.

"Hi Tim, how can I help you?" I said that, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

"Peter, can we use one of the mini-conference rooms? There is something I need to show you...and it's for your eyes only."

I lead him towards the first open room. I went in first, he followed and closed and locked the door before removing his backpack and taking a seat at the table. He then removed a large brown envelop and handed it to me.

This time it was his voice that alerted me. "I'm sorry for the drama but I think you will understand when you see this."

I opened the envelope and withdrew 4 large photographs, all 8 by 10s. After looking at the first couple I placed them in a line in front of me. I studied each carefully. My eyes started to become unfocused and I started to blink reflexively. I heard myself exhale as air escaped my lungs.

All the photos were of my wife with another man. The two were seated at a bar, obviously some distance from the photographer. I could tell because of the blurriness of the foreground objects. We were mainly treated to profiles. In the first two shots the man had his hand placed inside the top of her slacks, essentially cupping a part of her ass. They were leaning into to one another and Paige's arm encircled his back as if they were sharing some intimate conversation.

The other photos were more explicit. In both they were lip locked in a passionate kiss. From the positions of their bodies no one would conclude that this was a friendly peck. 

When I could focus again I looked up into Tim's eyes. He was nervously observing my reaction.

"How did you get these and when were they taken?" I said, surprised at the sound of my own voice.

"I have a part-time job at night at a restaurant on Penn's campus. Monday a week ago I was waiting on a table of six: a couple with friends celebrating their engagement. The group was seated in the main dining room off the bar area. "

"There was a girl in that party that was taking a number of pictures from the aisle and blocking access in the process. When I approached her to ask her to clear the lane, I noticed your wife and her 'friend' in the background. I recognized her immediately. I let the girl continue but explained the situation to her. I then offered her twenty bucks to zoom in on the couple in the bar seated directly in line with her friends. I moved out of their line of sight while she snapped these. She emailed them to me the next day. I was hoping it wasn't her Peter. I'm sorry."

"How long were they there?"

"I'd say at least a couple of hours. They were very touch-feely the entire time."

I could see the worry in Tim's eyes. He had met my wife Paige on several occasions, the first time being when she had picked me up at work in the early summer. More recently they talked at his going away dinner held at Noelle's house only a month before. Paige had even done most of the talking, so he knew that she was going back to school for her MBA. 

I returned to a further review of these pictures. Who was this man that was so familiar with my wife? I didn't recognize him. I looked him over trying to deduce what I could. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sports jacket. I couldn't make out his shoes. 

His blondish hair was spiked in a fashion that indicated he frequented a stylist. Sitting next to Paige I could see he was significantly broader and probably much taller. Paige was five nine so I guessed him to be around six four or so.


Mercenary Grudge



The next day a message was sent from Marc the Black Cat to Kai Espiritu and Abner Espinosa, both men read it carefully and started to plan their course of action. The message reads:

Attention Kai Espiritu and Abner Espinosa,

Do what must be done and you have the full support of the regiment in your actions, though it may be in a covert manner, it is the best that can be done to assist both of you. Good luck and good hunting.

Marcus Dangal Rim-Cats Commanding Officer

"We need to buy body-armors, Night Vision Goggles, tactical uniforms, and finally somehow get the weapons," Abner told his friend.

"We will need 9mm submachine-guns and 9mm pistols Abner."

"I think I got a way for that," brainstormed Abner Espinosa, also known as Hazier, "Dorian Incorporated have supplied the regiment for over a year now and it is based here in the U.S. there may be a way to get the weapons, magazines, and ammunition clandestinely."

"Alright, I'll go and buy the equipment while you take care of the weapons," replied Kai.

"Let me make a phone call and I'll set it up for us."

"Sounds like a plan Abner, I'll go ahead and shop around where to best buy our equipment."

Kai stepped out of the hotel and roam around the city looking around for military surplus stores, by purchasing the equipment by cash it cannot be traced to whom it is sold thus it will not be traced back to the two mercenaries. The Rim-Cat Mercenary Battalion Commander bought two light body-armors from one surplus store, two Night Vision Goggles from another store, and two set of tactical uniforms with pouches for twelve long 9mm magazine couch, and twelve short 9mm magazine pouch including two pair of gloves, and combat boots from an outdoors man store. Satisfied with his purchases, he walked to his rental car, opened the trunk, carefully placed the purchased items in the trunk, closed it, and got in the driver's seat as he starts the ignition and placed the gear into drive, Kai Espiritu drives back to the hotel.

At the same moment back in the hotel, Abner utilized his cellular phone and made a quick call setting up a phone conference with the owner of Dorian Incorporated. Due to the risk of their conversation being intercepted, Abner asked Melvin Dorian to use the mercenary's secured chat forum capable of broadcasting a live videoconference with total security and thus cannot be tapped by outside parties. As Hazier sets up his laptop computer and accessed the mercenary regiment's website, Melvin was already online waiting for him.

"Hello Melvin how's business?"

"A bit slow Abner, the economy is low and that affected our business. Thank goodness that the Rim-Cats needed a lot of supplies from me and that's how I'm making a quick living right now."

"Great to hear that Melvin, I need a favor."

"What do you need Abner?"

"I need two H&K MP-5K with two side magazine clips and laser targeting painter, two Glock-17 with laser targeting painter, two MP-5 suppressors, two 9mm pistol suppressors, thirty 40 round magazines, twenty-six 15 round magazines, 9mm ball ammunition, and 9mm tracer ammunition I want one-third of the ammos to be tracers," Abner informed the business owner of Dorian Incorporated.

"That's not a problem Abner," replied Melvin Dorian.

"This is the problem though, it is not for export Melvin. I want the merchandize to be delivered in Mobile, Alabama."

"Ah that can be a problem."

"Any suggestions Melvin?"

"There is a way to do it, I can place it as an order to be shipped from Mobile and from there you just have to intercept it by assuming to be one of my employees and take the package with you. Afterwards, I can just say that the shipment never made it to its destination and get some funds from the insurance for that."

"That would work Melvin, what's the price for this shipment?"

"I'll give you a discount Abner, I will charge you $25,000.00 USD."

"I'll send it to you via EFT and its up to you to list it as other type of services for the sake of records."

"Ok that would be fine Abner, expect the shipment to be there in two days."

"I'll talk to you again when I get the shipment, Melvin."

"That's fine Abner."

"Talk to you in two days," with that Abner Espinosa logged out and turned off his laptop, leaned back from the couch and placed his hands over his head relaxing with a grin smile.

Abner cannot help but ponder how the members of that specific K.K.K group will react when they are targeted for a hit by two seasoned veteran mercenaries. A few minutes have passed and Kai arrived carrying the equipments that they would need for the success of the hit. He placed his purchased items on the counter and looked at his friend.

"The weapons will be here in two days Kai," Abner informed his fellow mercenary.

"That's good, the sooner we can hit those bastards the better."

"Patience buddy, it will be done."

"I know Abner," Kai replied as he opened the door and prepared to exit, "I just want them to pay for what they've done to Rose and her family."

Kai exited and headed towards Rose's room, he knocked on the door and it was soon opened to him by the ebony beauty that is Rose.

"Hi babe!"

She offered her best smile for him as he returned the smile and entered the room. "How are you baby?"

"I'm good Kai, mom and my sisters went out into town shopping."

"I'm glad they're making the best out of the situation babe"

She hugged him and planted the sweetest kiss onto his lips, Kai Espiritu wrapped his arms around the woman he took as his and returned her kiss with a passionate one. Slowly he led her to the bedroom, kissing her lips, sucking her tongue, and gliding his kisses to the crook of her neck. His hands slowly undo her clothes, tossing them aside he stepped back and marvel the ebony beauty that is in front of him. Rose stepped forward and helped him off his clothes. Her hands rubbed the growing bulge on his pants as her hand expertly unzips his trousers. Kai let his trousers fall and steps over them he grabs her by the waist and led her to the bed, gently tossing her as he mounted on top of the beautiful African-American woman. His hands expertly explored her curves, caressing the sensitive parts of her body as she bit her lips and closed her eyes. Kai's mouth slides downward towards the cleavage between her breasts. He kissed them and licks her flesh as he moves his mouth to the right sucking on her mound. His hand gently opened her legs as he brushed on her sensitive slit located between her legs. 

"Oooohhh Kai," Rose moaned. 

Kai rubbed her sex up and down making sure that her clit gets the attention it is craving for, her body arched upwards as her clit awakens and slowly erected. He smiled at her reaction as he rubbed the sensitive clit around and around in circles. 

"Kai, aaahhh!"

With two fingers he dipped them inside her sex, slowly driving it inward deeper and deeper. She writhes in pleasure, as he finally stopped not able to go any further deeper inside of her, he wiggles his fingers inside her channel faster and faster. Rose whipped her head from side to side trying to bear the pleasure her boyfriend is giving her. Suddenly that is when his fingers started to pump in and out of her, she buckled at his actions moaning in delight breathing deeply every time he withdrew out of her and breathing and moaning every time he thrust his fingers inside. 

"Oh Kai fuck me, please fuck me now," she begged him writhing and moaning in pleasure.

Kai mounted and positioned himself on top of her as he thrust his cock deep inside of her pussy to the hilt. He then drilled around and around pushing in her more, Rose moaned louder and hugged him tightly, her legs wraps around his waist as he begins to pound her pussy in and out. With long strokes he pistons his shaft inward and outward of her pussy, Rose moans and screams in pleasure as he grinds his waist making his cock piston in circular motions. She arched her back once again ready to welcome her release.

"Don't cum yet baby. I want you to hold it until I cum with you," Kai instructed his girlfriend.

Rose could not utter any more words as she is busy moaning, gasping, and trying to catch her breath, in understanding she nodded at Kai. She cling to him as he rocks her back and forth with every thrust, suddenly he carried her as he stood up, bouncing her body up and down his shaft. 

"Ohhh ooohhhh aaaahhhh Kai, shit that feels so good baby."

As he lift her up from her buttocks and slamming her back to be impaled by his cock, he walked towards the wall where he pinned her and started to fuck her as hard as he can. Her juices started to ooze out of her pussy, soaking his cock, and drips to the floor as he pounds her again and again. Then he closed her legs making her pussy as tight as possible, not letting up his pace and rhythm of his pounding, her body rocks back and forth as she screams in pleasure.

"AAAAHHH KAI!"

He impales her pussy harder and faster grinding his hips as he does so. The pleasure was uncontainable as six orgasms lined up building inside of her, their bodies started to be drenched with sweat as their love making takes the toll out of their stamina. 

"Cum for me Rose, cum!"

With one last thrust she let go of her orgasm as it rocks her body engulfing her with the sensation that only Kai Espiritu can bring, at the same moment he shoots his seed deep inside of her womb as she screams her release.

"AAAAAAAHHHH KAI!"

Rose became limp on his arms as he carried her to bed and laid her there. He lies besides her embracing the woman he loves and both fell into deep sleep. 

Two days have passed and the sun started to set, Kai woke up and gets dressed as he quietly slips out of the hotel room to rendezvous with Abner Espinosa. As he reaches the hotel's lobby, Abner was there, smiling at his fellow mercenary and offered his hand which Kai shook.

"Had fun buddy?"

"I did Abner," replied Kai, which he is known among his peers as Ghost.

"Shall we get this show on the road then?"

"Let's do it Abner."

The two mercenaries walked out of the lobby with their bags containing their tool of trade. As both men took their seat inside the rental car, Abner gunned the engine and drove out of the parking lot and headed towards the backwoods of Alabama, there they will encounter the notorious racist group, the K.K.K. Within five miles from their designated targeted compound, they stopped, got out of the vehicle, Abner opened the trunk, and both men started to dress into their tactical uniform. Kai and Abner screwed the suppressors onto the barrel of their weapons, a submachine gun, and a pistol. Loading the ammos into the magazines, both men made sure that every three rounds are tracer rounds. Each loaded magazine they placed into their magazine pouches then clipping the two spare magazines onto the submachine gun's magazine side clips, then they slammed a fresh magazine into their weapons, cocking them and ready to fire. That is when the two mercenaries returned inside their vehicle and drove to a few hundred yards from their compound. Careful not to be spotted, both men used their Night Vision Goggles, Abner turned off the lights of the rental car as he finally parked behind a few trees away from the prying eyes of the K.K.K. guards. 

"Alright buddy this is it," Kai told his friend.

"Lock, loaded, and ready Kai."

"Let's go Abner."

Both men exited the vehicle and checked if their communication gear is in proper working order, satisfied that all their equipment is in working condition, Kai signaled for Abner to flank the compound from the side as he take the other flank. Cautiously and stealthily the two Asian mercenaries crept within firing range, as Kai aimed his weapon a H&K MP-5K to start the elimination of the K.K.K. group responsible for burning down Rose's house, he aimed his weapon at a group of five white supremacist and opened fire. Bullets rained riddled the K.K.K. men's bodies as they dropped to the ground, bloody, and empty of life. Then Abner came in from the opposite direction, finding another group of six men he hosed them down with his H&K MP-5K submachine gun, as he came close he never let loose of the trigger as his weapon spitted out hot lead against the unsuspecting group. The members of the group danced as rounds penetrated their bodies, gushing blood out of arteries and wounds, the six men fell to ground dead, they've never known what hit them. 

"Area secured Kai."

"I'll take out the two guards and then hit them from two directions."

Kai crouched to within a few dozen feet from the guards, he showed himself, aimed his submachine gun and sprayed the guards with the remaining ammunition he have left in the magazine. The two men shocked tried to run, but was futile, as the rounds found their mark riddling their bodies before they fell to dead to the ground. 

"The guards have been taken out Abner, take out the electricity and kill their lights," he told his fellow mercenary as he replaced the empty magazine with a fresh one, "let's take these bastards now."

Kai entered the compound from the north the moment their lights went out, seeing the surprised and bewildered white supremacist, he fired his weapon from the hip emptying his magazine as a dozen men splayed in the air widely before dropping to the floor devoid of life. 

"Coming in from the south Kai."

Abner entered from the other side as the men of the K.K.K. struck by shock started to reach for their weapons, however the mercenary beat them to the punch as he sprayed the room with his submachine gun killing all the occupants of the room. Then he walked towards the door bent on one single purpose, to eliminate whomever is within the compound.

"I'm going door to door Abner, from the north to the south," Kai said over the communication gear.

"Copy that Kai."

Two beams of flashlights shunned onto Kai, he opened up with his submachine gun and gunned down two men armed with AK-47s. He walked on towards the next door, it burst open as three men tried to escape, shocked to see a man dressed in black wearing a Night Vision Goggle, the men started to bear their weapons at Kai. Ghost fired his weapon first, he riddled the three men with 9mm bullets, walking over the dead bodies, and he entered the room. Finding scared underage girls, he lowered his weapon.

"Go, get out and get help."

The three girls started to cry as they ran out of the room and out of the complex. Kai went on to the next room, as he kicked it open, he was greeted by AK-47 fire. The slugs hit his body armor as he fired from the hip and sprayed the room with his 9mm submachine gun. Unfortunately, the K.K.K. didn't wear body armors and so their bodies were cut to pieces by the long burst from Kai's H&K MP-5. Four more white supremacist lay dead on the floor as Kai walked out breathing a bit hard as he escaped death thanks to his body armor. 

"Kai you alright buddy?"

"Yeah Abner, I'm ok the body armor wasn't penetrated."

"Ok I'm coming from the south side. It's a bit empty here."

"Copy that Abner."

Abner Espinosa, known by his peers as Hazier, conducted a one man sweep from the south side to the north side in an attempt to eliminate the K.K.K. group and rejoin his friend Ghost. As he kicked the last door open, a hail of mixed gunfire erupted. Immediately he pivoted to the side of the doorway avoiding the hail of slugs aimed for him. Crouching low, he faced his foes and fired his weapon emptying the magazine spraying the room. He then moved back next to the doorway and reloaded a fresh magazine.

"Are you the feds?"

A white supremacist surviving the hail of bullets from Abner asked. Hazier shook his head in disbelief then again he knew that in the United States, a man was given a chance to give up towards the authorities. Unfortunately for this guy, he was wrong and he is facing a mercenary, not the Federal Law Enforcement Agencies. He swung his body back in front of the doorway, aiming his weapon, and fired riddling the man with bullets. He then scanned the room and fired at the remaining wounded members of the K.K.K. For this particular operation, mercy is not granted, nor do the two mercenaries warrant it.

"Final rooms clear, Kai."

Abner released his empty magazine and jammed in a fresh one as he walked cautiously to their rendezvous point. 

"My area is clear Abner."

The two men met again at the center point of the compound and nodded at each other. They exited and hurried to their vehicle knowing that soon the authorities will arrive, as Abner gunned the engine, leaving the lights off, he drove the rental car to a back road and towards a quiet creek. Their they both got out, changed their clothes, placed all their used equipment onto a bag, and tossed it as far as Kai can hurl them, thus destroying the evidence used to eliminate the group of white supremacist. 

"It's over Kai," said Abner.

"Yes, it is bud."

The two men returned to their rental car and drove off. A few hours later they ran onto a checkpoint was there about fifteen miles from the K.K.K. compound, both men were prepared for this and about twenty miles from their target was a small town frequented by a few Asians residing within the area, there they spend their time after the incident so to avoid being pinned as the culprits for the white supremacist massacre. 

"Where you boys heading?"

The State Trooper asked Abner.

"Well officer we are heading back to Mobile."

"Where were you two before?"

"In the town called Perry Alabama sir," replied Kai.

"You boys were there the whole night?"

"Yes officer we were. It is known that the area have a famous Asian restaurant so my friend here and I visited it and enjoyed the cuisine."

"You boy's aren't from here are you?"

"No sir, we're tourist from the Pearl of the East," answered Abner.

"Can I check your passports then?"

Both men presented their passport to the State trooper, which he inspected and scrutinized. Unable to find anything suspicious about the two mercenaries and unknown to him of who the two truly are, the officer returned their passports.

"Have a safe trip now you hear."

"Yes we shall officer," with that Abner drove off towards the hotel.

The next day Kai visited Rose's hotel room, she opened the door and kissed her boyfriend.

"Baby here I want you to have it and rebuild," he handed her a local check of $150,000.00 USD," and this one is from Abner so that you and your family can bring your business into reality."

Rose looked at the check from abner written in the same amount. She hugged her boyfriend and ran off to the next room telling her mother and sisters about what he and Abner have given them. Her family came to meet him and smiled shaking his hand.

"Thank you son, this will be a great help to us."

"Yes ma'am I know. I am glad to help," said Kai to Rose's mother.

"Are you staying for long Kai?"

"I'm sorry babe but Abner and I need to return to Ar'Raq. Colonel Marc and the rest of the Rim-Cats are waiting for us there."

"When are you leaving baby?"

"In two days babe."

The two lovers spend their time together as Abner enjoyed the sights of Mobile Alabama and what the city have to offer. A few days later, the two traveled to Cancun Mexico via a boat cruise, thus avoiding any suspicion from the authorities. From there the two traveled to Hu'Wait and into Ar'Raq. Abner and Kai carried a copy of the newspaper article, which came out the day after their attack on the K.K.K. group.

Last night, a federal group cracked down on the local group who are members of the K.K.K. The members of the white supremacist group are known to take advantage of minors, girls who are seduced into the group and then used as sex slaves. The members of the group fought with the authorities, which in turn have no choice, but to use deadly force. The authorities saved three girls and none of the group members survive the encounter. This crack down brought to an end of terror from this group in the local area, families of the victims finally cried out their voice, as they are glad that justice has finally been given to them. Members of the minorities are finally settling down in the area and jobs are now opening up bringing prosperity to the community. We should thank the men who have made these changes possible; if it weren't for them, the community will still be stuck in a time capsule reminiscing the time of segregation and racial bias. 




Mercenary Grudge



As Kai finished reading the article he sighs out and smiled, at least he and Abner have made a difference in another part of the world as the two men prepared to once again perform their duties, to make a difference in Ar'Raq.



Mercenary



I also estimated him to be in his late twenties; about my age, possibly younger. They also seemed oblivious to those around them. They probably had come in alone. These pictures also showed that they appeared unconcerned with being seen.

Had they been sleeping together? Oh God. Then it hit me, a pain in my stomach consistent with a kick. I grimaced from the imaginary blow as I pushed away from the table. I grew slightly light-headed. There was a rushing noise in my ears.

Tim must have noticed immediately.

"Peter? Peter? Are you alright?"

His voice brought me back. I didn't want to keep him here since I knew it must have been very uncomfortable for him. I also wanted to be alone with my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you still have the email with the pictures?"

"Sure. I couldn't delete them before we met."

"Can you send them to me? Here's my personal email address", I said as I scribbled on notepad. "Oh, and before I forget..." I reached in my pocket and withdrew thirty dollars (my clothes at the cleaners would wait).

"Here."

"I don't want to take your money. I...I wouldn't feel right."

"Nonsense, you need the money, I wouldn't feel right if you didn't take it. You paid twenty plus the cost of printing these...thirty should cover it."

He must have thought better than to argue with me so he took the cash, grabbed his bag and made for the door. 

"I've got to get to work. My shift starts in an hour."

I nodded at him. I would have given him a lift but Paige had our car. I offered my hand instead as he reached the door.

"I owe you. Thank you."

We shook, he was off, and I was left to my own thoughts...and fears. Tim had said these were taken last Monday. I couldn't recall much of any anything of significance a week ago with my wife. I was too concerned with the job at the time. I tried to concentrate on that day a week ago.

Paige had come home after I was in bed that Monday night, so we did not speak to one another until the morning. That Tuesday morning she told me she had had a study group the previous evening. The session had supposedly lasted until almost midnight. She was exhausted. I bought it. There was no reason to doubt her; she was nervous about returning to school and would study 24-7 if she could.

I looked over the pictures again. How could she do this? When did she think it was OK to cheat on me? And how long had this been going on? Was she ever going to tell me? Was she serious with this guy?

Then I recalled that while we missed each other last Monday night, last Tuesday night she came home an hour after I arrived. Tuesday was my night for literacy tutoring at the high school. I usually made it home about 9pm. Paige wasn't back till after 10pm, and for some reason she looked rushed as she came in the door, and seemed slightly annoyed with my presence.

Her mood turned very affectionate right before bed in an odd contrast to her arrival. We did have sex that night and she seemed primed from the moment we entered the bedroom; it was me who claimed exhaustion when we finished. If Paige were having an affair she hid her activities well. I would not have guessed anything was wrong based upon her actions.

The rest of last week was uneventful. What phone calls I remember being answered were mostly for her, and those were either from her sister Dana or her mother. The other calls I recalled were solicitations of various sorts. Of course she could have been on the phone while I was out but, those windows of opportunity were very thin. I thought of what else we did during that week.

We went out to dinner Friday night, visited with her folks on Saturday, no discord, and no arguments, no love making though; that activity was already catalogued once in the week. Our sex life had been sporadic for over a year now. I attributed that to the discussions we'd had about starting a family, and of course to Paige's anxiety about returning to school.

The plan on having children was on hold while Paige sought her degree. Hell, if we had them it would be at least four years out. I certainly had capitulated on that issue. Three years ago I started bringing up the subject, months later Paige broke the news about wanting to return to school. I let my desire for a family take a back seat. Children! What was I thinking? We were not likely going to have any children, not together anyway, certainly not if these pictures meant what they conveyed. 

Then again, perhaps I was overreacting. I didn't know if the pictures reflected an ongoing relationship or nothing more than a passing fling. It was only a kiss. She might not have actually slept with this guy. Perhaps the relationship was new. The pictures looked bad but we might still be able to get past this. 

I would have to trust that Paige would be honest about their relationship. If I couldn't trust her then my options were unthinkable. The problem was I didn't know what I wanted to do if she had cheated on me. I used to think that adultery meant an immediate end to a marriage. But that was for other people. Now that it was me pondering the same result it left a bad taste in my mouth.

There was another problem. I knew something from these pictures that no one else would know. My wife, while affectionate at times, was not one prone to kissing. In fact, except for our courtship she rarely kissed me with an open mouth. Paige wasn't very orally oriented. She used to call it "trading spit". This was another of her idiosyncrasies that I adjusted to in our marriage.

Now she was caught sucking face with some stranger. Was he forcing himself on her? It didn't appear so. The more I thought about it the angrier I became. I was paralyzed. One second I wanted to be rid of her, the next, to reclaim her as my wife. 

I understood that having a spouse in graduate school could be a risky proposition. Many marriages undergo strains when one spouse is so engaged and the other bears most of the responsibilities of the family. We had been counseled on this possibility by friends who had made that commitment. I expected her to be 'working' 50-60 hours a week on class work and possibly another 20 in study groups. 

This was a challenge we had talked about, that we had prepared for. Paige had given me many assurances that she would talk through whatever problems that were likely to arise. Since it was the end of September I kept thinking that it was way too soon for us to be experiencing problems, and certainly not problems of this kind.

I could confront her with these pictures, but I had no other specifics supporting the existence of another relationship. Furthermore, she would laugh if I brought up the kiss. Even so, I knew I needed to talk with her. If I could look her in the eyes I would ferret out the truth. But something told me that might be premature; I would feel more secure in that discussion if I knew details about both of them first. Of course in the back of my mind it bothered me that I didn't know she'd been unhappy with me to begin with.

I felt fatigued. I would have done anything for Paige and often acceded to her wishes. Our entire marriage now seemed to have been one misplaced accommodation by me after another. The last three years in particular had confirmed my dedication to her. 

She wanted a larger apartment so we moved...twice. She thought my old Chevy wasn't an "appropriate" car for us so we traded up for a Saab. Teaching was beginning to bore her, she wanted to return to school - I agreed to support us and help pay her tuition. Then she needed a car to get back and forth to class, so I gave her the Saab while I rode the bus or walked. 

It was her change in career that now seemed most troubling. I was her number one supporter. When she hinted at wanting to get an MBA I encouraged her, going so far as to pay for her tutoring for the grad admissions exams. I even spent many evenings prepping her myself. In fact, whenever her nerve faltered I was there to motivate her and strengthen her resolve. 

I devoted two and a half years of saving in order to have reasonable funds for her tuition. Even then I still made several expensive purchases for the apartment that she had deemed necessary for us as a couple.

As I recounted each sacrifice I realized I was exaggerating her influence. I couldn't blame her entirely for my attitude. She didn't nag me for those things I gave to her; she was much more subtle in her desires. It was me. I simply went along with her where she indicated preferences or desires for things. 

She was my wife, so doing things to make her happy were actions I undertook gladly. There was no obvious coercion involved. As her husband I assumed some measure of responsibility for her happiness. The realization that I might have been a compliant patsy however, only made me feel worse.

Relationships are never 50-50. At any given time one party is more giving than the other. Paige and I were not in a contest, we were in a relationship, or at least I was. But then again, that calculus itself was wrong. Relationships really should be 100-100. I was giving my all, evidently she was not. Now all my expressions of love for her were tainted. I looked more and more like someone who was being played for a fool; yet it wasn't my pride that was hurt but my heart. 

My heart ached for so many dreams I was losing because of her, dreams that she supposedly shared. Did Paige see my acceding to her wishes as a weakness? Was my approach to our marriage a contributing factor in her betrayal? I hoped not. If she had set out to use me I would have had no defense. I loved her. I would have done the same things again if presented with the same situations. You have to trust your loved ones. That's a given. 

I hated violence, but at that moment I could have killed both Paige and her boyfriend. I regained control when I thought of the consequences. My life would be over if it came to such a decision. They were just not worth it, but the momentary thoughts of hurting them did wonders in shoring up the pain.

All I had were questions. I had no firm answers. Nothing fit with the circumstances. I couldn't reconcile those pictures with what I knew of my wife. They were not her. My questions were taking me in circles. By the time I looked up it was 5:30pm (a half an hour after quitting time). The door to the room opened and Noelle entered.

I barely acknowledged her. I let the pictures stay as they were, lined up across the table. I should have moved them but I wasn't thinking about hiding my problem from her. This was an act of selfishness that I regretted moments later. The photos were too tempting a target. She took a post behind me, surveying the scenes of my wife's liaison.

Precious minutes went by in silence before I heard her draw a deep breath.

"C'mon, let's get out of here", she said with authority. "My mother is cooking this evening. There is always room for one more at the table."

I turned to see her face. I don't know how I looked to her, but she flinched. I softened and spoke for the first time. My voice was probably lower than intended.

"I suddenly don't have any plans this evening. Your offer sounds good to me."

With Noelle leading we made our way out the building and into the underground concourse that webbed its way through that part of town. A couple minutes later we were at the parking garage, and then in her car.

I don't recall most of the trip to that point since not a word was spoken until we reached her car and I took my place in the passengers' seat.

"You know you don't have to do this? I'm probably going to be lousy company this evening ", I warned her.

"Don't worry, my mother's cooking will perk you right up, and if that doesn't work Mom won't let you feel bad about yourself."

"So your mother comes over to cook for you?" I said this needing to change the subject. 

"Oh, that's right. You haven't met her. She's been living with me for the past year and a half." 

I knew that Noelle's mother was a widow like herself. It made sense that they might find comfort and support with one another. 

"Really? I missed her at Tim's going away dinner. But I've been at your house a number of times over the last 18 months. I never saw her."

"Well as for Tim's party, she and my aunt were on a cruise that week thank God. I pity the captain though. Having mom on a ship was probably an experience he'll never forget. You've got to ask her to show you the pictures. The other times she was out. Mom normally makes herself scarce when I'm entertaining." 

I smiled and that statement. Noelle however, was looking a little shy after having uttered those words. An awkward silence was about to descend.

"It's OK. Please don't tip toe around me this evening."

A few minutes later we were pulling into her townhouse garage. Noelle lived in the Fairmont section of city near the Art Museum circle. Her house was one of the more modern 3 story town houses complete with garage, terrace and split level balcony off the studio guest room.

This was my fourth or fifth time in her home this year, and during every visit I felt as if the layout and décor were what I would have chosen. She had given me a tour of the place a couple of years ago. The entire house had a warm and cozy feeling with large windows, abundant light from the outside and warm colors inside. Each room welcomed its guests.

Just being here was like stepping out of the drama of my marriage into another world. Now aside from the visual effects there was a most enticing aroma making its way from the kitchen. My host excused herself and disappeared up the stairs after showing me into the main living room.

Just as I took my seat on the sofa, a woman approached from the rear of the house. I stood to greet her. I judged her to in her to be in her mid-forties, certainly too young to be her mother. She was a few inches shorter than Noelle and while she was relatively petite, she was curvier. However, that million dollar dimpled smile left little doubt that she was indeed Noelle's mother. 

You could see where Noelle obtained her good looks. There were the same serious eyes and her hair had the similar jet black sheen of her daughter's; but that's where the visual similarities ended. Her mother's dress was much more form fitting and she walked suggesting that she was very comfortable in her body. I thought this augured well for Noelle when she grew older. 

Even though this woman was probably twenty years or more my senior I still found her presence to be very arousing. I know I blushed upon realizing this. I never had the occasion to ogle a mother of a friend since becoming an adult. This was made more embarrassing since she seemed to project sensuality without conscious effort. There wasn't one thing about her; it was the entire way she presented herself.

Now those appealing curves were coming my way in a walk that was intensely feline. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at me. Her smile was bright, and her face was downright pretty. Given my circumstances this should have been the last thing on my mind, but this woman short circuited my prior descent into self-pity and despair.

"Mrs. DiStefano?" I said rising and extending my hand, only to be grabbed in a warm full body embrace and then released. I tried to take it well, but I was internally shaken by that greeting.

"Actually my name is Ruggerio, DiStefano is Noelle's married name, but please call me Muriel. Welcome to our home. You must be Peter." The voice matched the face - melodic and sultry.

"Yes ma'am" I responded with a raised eyebrow, surprised that this woman recognized me. She must have picked up on the implied question because she was very quick to respond. 

"Noelle mentioned you volunteering with her on the adult literacy project. I also remember you from the photos she took of your dinner last month. You're a very popular subject around here. By the way, are you still very ticklish?" The last sentence was punctuated with a wink.

I had to laugh at that question. Back when I was a trainee and Noelle was my mentor we once played a game where we each had to tell the other something about ourselves that was known only to a few people. This was an exercise designed to help bond the trainee and mentor. Well, I told Noelle that I was very ticklish. That this would come up in conversation with her mother five years later came as quite a surprise.

The conversation took off from there with Mrs. Ruggerio being a very charming companion. Her quick wit and easy laughter were contagious. Noelle was right; in just a few minutes I had temporarily forgotten my marital concerns and was deeply engrossed in her mother's cruise adventures.

What a vivacious and delightful lady. Her enthusiasm was almost childlike. She made me feel as if I were on the ship with her experiencing the same sights and joys. When Noelle returned to sit next to me I barely noticed her, so taken was I with her mother. 

The fact that Noelle had exchanged her business suit for a more casual blouse and flowing skirt made it to my brain only after we had finished dinner and were once again alone ( her mother having retreated to the kitchen to make coffee for us).

"How do you feel now?" Noelle asked as we were again seated side by side.

"I'm much better thank you. You were right about your Mother. She has a way about her. It's a shame we can't hire her to liven up some of our branch meetings."

Noelle seemed amused at that comment, but she decided to move on with our topic for the evening. Her look turned serious as she moved the conversation to my problem.

"Peter, do you want to talk about it? If not, that's fine with me. We don't have to."

I was much calmer now, almost detached from the turbulence of emotions that held me hostage just hours ago. "I do want to talk. I need to."

I then explained about the call from Tim and how he came to have the photographs. There wasn't much to tell. My wife was apparently cheating on me.

"So you don't know this man?"

"No. That's only one of the many things I don't know. Hell, until those photos I never thought that Paige would do such thing. It never entered my mind."

"The pictures look bad Peter. We both know that. But they are pictures. They don't tell the full story and they can be subject to misinterpretation. So before you do something you might regret later, you need to talk with Paige, but not until you have control of yourself and can address her calmly."

"Actually I'm not in the mood to talk with her at this point." I suddenly felt exhausted from the brief discussion we were having.

"You'll be under control when you see her tonight won't you? If you have even the slightest doubt, then you need to sleep somewhere else. Your dad lives fairly close by doesn't he?"

That question brought me back to full alertness. I had dealt with that question. Harming Paige was no longer even remotely part of my thinking. I quickly assured Noelle of that fact. "No, I need to be home. She's not in any danger, not from me. I wouldn't hurt her. I only want some answers. I'm surprised that you could ask me that question though."

"I've always known you to be very calm, outwardly at least. But this is a situation that will test your self-control, so I had to ask. When I walked in on you this afternoon I had a feeling. It's probably nothing; anyway you will get the answers you need soon enough." Noelle shifted slightly in her seat and lowered her voice. "What I'm going to ask you now is going to sound strange. Just hear me out first before you answer."

"What if you knew everything about the relationship, if indeed there is one between them, and you knew all about the circumstances? Is there some explanation you could accept that might allow you to forgive her?"

"Forgive?" The very idea repulsed me. My anger was barely contained below the surface when I'd explained the story behind the pictures. Now Noelle was unintentionally bringing that monster back. The tension probably showed on my face and neck.




Mercenary



"Yes, forgive Peter. I'm not suggesting that you give her a pass. You don't know the details yet. I'm merely saying that you need to not only be prepared to forgive her if the situation merits, you need to listen to her with an ear towards finding forgiveness. Otherwise, any talk you two have will be useless. I learned that too late myself, I only wish I had spent more time being prepared to forgive my husband his failings, I would have listened to him more." Her voice trailed off wistfully. 

I looked away, at first unbelieving that she could feel this way. Then I remembered her personal loss. Noelle measured absolution against the finality of death. Where there was life there was hope. Forgiveness naturally followed. Death ended all possibilities. 

This way of thinking might lead one to accept all human frailties as equally worthy of forgiveness. Because she was my friend I did not want to be insensitive in my response. But her comments could not go completely unchallenged.

"If you were in my shoes, could you forgive, knowing that you had been betrayed?"

"That's not fair Peter. I'm not you. This is your marriage we are discussing. I merely raised the issue about your capacity at this time to overlook a possible mistake, if it is a just a mistake. Whether you forgive or not you need to listen with an open heart. You need to seek understanding first, not condemnation."

"I received that same advice about keeping an open heart from you. Remember Kevin Connelly?" Noelle was now sitting close and I could see that mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, so that's it. I guess I'll never live that down." I couldn't help but smile after saying that. "I thought he was a nice guy. I wasn't trying to marry you off to him."

"Really? You hounded me for two months to go out with him. What a bore. All he did was talk about his dog and his damn boat. "

"Well it was a 26-footer." That got me a frown not worth noting.

"Right, it was a 26-footer, a MacGregor if I remember correctly. If that wasn't bad enough he had a tendency to park his hands on my butt when we were out together."

That snapped me back. 

"I didn't know that", I said quietly. I was getting angry at knowing he had been so free with my friend.

I quickly searched Noelle's eyes. She was really trying to give me some hope in the situation. She was thinking along the same lines as me, but she didn't want to alarm me further. I loved her for that.

"OK, I made a simple mistake. I misjudged his intentions. I should have checked him out further. I get your point. Could I be doing that same thing with Paige? I might be able to forgive her, but forgiveness is not forgetfulness. I'll always remember what she did, just like you remember Kevin."

"That's not the attitude you want to bring to that discussion Peter", she said, her expression now having turned deadly serious. 

"It's not that I don't understand the nature of forgiveness, I just think that sometimes we place too high a value on it. It doesn't change the underlying problem you're dealing with. I learned that much years ago. You know, up until I was eight years old my life was pretty much perfect. There was just my brother and me. He's only a year younger. We were always doing things together or with my Mom and my Dad. My Dad was my hero. He was a cop." 

"When I was eight my Mom took sick. She contracted cervical cancer. The cure rate is normally about 80% for what she had. The odds were in her favor, but not in her future. She held on for two years before it took her..."

I lost my voice for a moment; even after all these years it was still hard talking about my mom.

"...anyway, my Dad sort of lost it after that. He started drinking. I don't know how he managed to keep his job, but he did. The drinking got real bad, so bad that my aunt Robin, my Dad's sister, took me and my brother to live with her. She and Uncle James already had four girls, so it was pretty crowded there with my cousins. But it worked out better that way."

"When we arrived at my aunt's we were the youngest members in the house. Libby was the closest cousin to us, and she was sixteen at the time. Being so young, and the only boys, we were pampered and spoiled from the start. We only knew love during those years there. But it wasn't enough. We still missed our mom ...and we missed our dad too."

"It took my father three years to give up the bottle, three years to remember that his sons also had their hearts broken. I know it was hard for him. He came for us right after I turned thirteen. Then we lived with him...so I know all about forgiveness."

All that time I had been talking into my lap, not really looking at Noelle. When I raised my head I looked deep into her eyes. What I found there was compassion and something else that I couldn't quite place. Somehow, I found myself half smiling. This woman wasn't the problem and I was dumping on her. She was my friend. I suddenly felt ashamed of my thoughts. I knew her too well. I couldn't imagine HER behaving like Paige in that restaurant. That was part of the reason I was so very upset with my wife.

Before I could continue Mrs. Ruggerio came into the room with a coffee service. We paused in our conversation to fix our beverages. One sip and I was again entranced by her mother. She had prepared brewed coffee for us, real brewed coffee, not the automatic drip that passed for coffee. Mrs. R was quickly becoming a very eligible bachelorette in my book.

"Mrs. ...hmmm Muriel this coffee is the best I've ever had!"

"Thank you Peter, I'm glad you like it. I'll leave you two alone now. I know you have much to discuss."

Muriel made her way to the stairs. I glanced at their grandfather clock and saw that it was approaching ten o'clock. Given the lateness of the hour I presumed she was probably turning in for the evening.

"Thanks Peter. You just made Mom very happy. We don't often get to entertain men in our home... unless they're related. She really likes you. Brewed coffee is usually reserved for family.

"Well I meant it, and please tell her that the meal was one of the best I've ever had too. I don't know how you manage to stay so thin. I'd be as big as house with her cooking."

"I'd better go. We've got an early call tomorrow. ", I added while standing. Noelle stood too and left the room for a moment. She returned with my jacket. I turned to go.

"Hold on. I'll drop you off."

"Noelle you don't have to do that. I'm only a few miles away. I can walk"

"No, I'll drive." 

We covered the distance in silence. I was lost in my own thoughts about what to do about Paige. By the time I looked up we were in front of my apartment house and I hadn't remembered even giving Noelle my address.

"Noelle, thank you...I"

"Go. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

When I walked in that night I found Paige in bed asleep. I was too wound up for bed. I took a seat in the darkness of our living room and reviewed the events of the day. Perhaps Noelle was right about being prepared to forgive Paige. It was like her to see that possibility. Her advocacy came with a bit of irony since my wife was not particularly fond of her. 

I laid my head back staring at the ceiling comparing the two women whose presence helped define most of my waking hours. 

Paige and Noelle had met on numerous occasions. I noted that while the two women were courteous, no relationship was ever established. Somewhat uncharacteristic of Noelle, she went out of her way to be friendly, while Paige for her part responded to Noelle but always held back. Noelle never indicated any tension so I didn't think it was noticeable. Paige could be very subtle at being standoffish. 

Paige always enjoyed going to the social functions sponsored by my job. She was at her best with an audience. Charming, witty, and just a touch flirtatious; my wife could liven up any gathering. She had a knack for getting people whom she had just met to divulge some of their deepest secrets. Men were particularly susceptible. I attributed her aptitude directly to her striking good looks. Males are much more likely to try please or impress a pretty woman.

It was all an act of course; she would make fun of my colleagues when we returned to the solitude of our home. I didn't appreciate the comments and let her know that, but over the years she persisted, as if I'd never spoken on the subject. However, she never made any comments about Noelle, though I know she disliked her.

At first I thought she might be a little jealous of my friend. Paige had very few female friends herself. I detected she had some mistrust of women in general. Based upon comments she'd made much later I came to the conclusion that Paige disliked Noelle for no other reason than that she was Italian. The irony in that was that I'm half Italian on my mother's side. 

After that insight about Noelle, I rarely mentioned my job when I was at home. I knew Paige resented the overtime I put in at work, so I avoided conversations about my workday or my coworkers. Given the pressures of my career, having a clearly defined work-life balance was a necessity. In hindsight, the boundary my wife forced me to establish between my job and our family wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Oddly enough, it was Noelle who continually tried to push me out the door at five so that I could get home. That tactic rarely worked and it became a running joke between us; she would show up at the end of the day, I'd say I was leaving but needed a few more minutes on a project, a couple of hours would pass, we'd go to her office and talk and then I'd go home, leaving her there to continue working into the night.

Years ago, shortly after I started working with her, during one of our talks after hours, Noelle told me about her husband. I had heard rumors that she had been married but never knew much of the story. I only knew that she was a widow. By then there was a bond of trust between us.

She told me they had met while she was in college and dated for several years. Then two years after they were married he decided to pursue his dream of having his own auditing firm. On his very first engagement, during an early morning review at a client's remote site, he was killed as the result of a chlorine spill from a train derailment. That tragedy happened shortly before I came to work for the company. Knowing this helped me to understand her better. 

We didn't often talk in detail about our families. But that night was the anniversary of his death and she needed to confide in someone. I stayed with her until almost midnight as she told me about her marriage and about the husband whom she continued to mourn. From what she said, he seemed like a good guy, someone I would have liked to have met. The fact that they never had children was particularly painful.

That one conversation with her had a profound effect on me. It got me thinking more about the frailty of life and the importance of family. Like Noelle, I also thought that children would come as a natural progression of my marriage. There was always time later. Now I wasn't so sure. 

It had been in the third year of our marriage that I began to approach Paige with the idea of starting a family. We were both settled in our jobs. I had been saving some money on the side, not a lot, but enough. She and I had discussed children in the early part of our relationship. At that time Paige had expressed the same desire for children. In fact, we used to joke whether we would have four (my number) or two (her preference). 

She had problems with the pill so we used a diaphragm (or condoms in a pinch) to avoid pregnancy. This was a routine I adhered to religiously. I thought that children were never at issue - only the timing. How could I have been so wrong?

It was these and other disjointed thoughts that traversed my semiconscious mind as I sat in that darkened room that night. I looked over at our wall clock and realized that it was close to 2am. My thoughts had been rambling for hours. Regardless of the coffee I had consumed, I was mentally exhausted. That was the last clear thought I had before sleep overcame me. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to jump up but my body refused to obey. I slowly recognized that I was being shaken. "Peter. Peter wake up. Its 7am honey. You've got to get ready."

My eyes parted to let in the vision of Paige crouching before me, the look of concern written across her face. I stretched reflexively, closed my eyes for a second and then stood. My bladder led me away towards the bathroom. Whether Paige was concerned that I had not spoken I don't know. Her face faded away as I filled the basin and splashed the first droplets of warm water upon my face.

When I returned to the bedroom Paige was putting on her makeup. Should I have found it odd that she put on makeup in preparation for a day of lectures and study groups? Did she give such attention to her appearance in those other classrooms when she had been in command? I couldn't remember, and the question gnawed at me. Was it an early warning sign I should have seen? Or was I being paranoid? That thought calmed me. I then recalled Paige always wearing makeup, regardless of the occasion.

It was too late now, I thought while unbuttoning my shirt. My descent into self pity was fortunately interrupted by my curious mate.

"You must have had a rough night. You've never fallen asleep in the chair before. You haven't been drinking have you?" Paige said that with a weak laugh escaping her lips. The accompanying smile fled her face as she saw my expression.

"What's wrong Peter? I wasn't serious, but it is unlike you."

"Something was bothering me. I don't know any other way to put this well, so I'll just come out and ask you. Are you involved with another man? "

There it was, out in the open, stated in the most awkward of terms. Was she 'involved'? Were you fucking someone else Paige? That's what I wanted to say but couldn't.

Her head tilted slightly as if she were trying to look around me. For a moment I saw her eyes grow wider, but then it was gone as she turned slowly in her seat away from me. A moment later she had turned again to face me. Her voice was strong as she responded.

"What? You're not kidding are you?" My expression must have said it all. She slowly shook her head. "I don't believe this", she said getting up and moving towards the window and staring out. 

"I just don't believe this. I'm in class less than two months and you come up with this shit?" She turned around to face me as her expression now one of controlled anger. If she expected me to back down she was mistaken. I had not moved an inch since asking the question. 

"You think I'm cheating on you? With who? A classmate? One of my professors? Maybe I'm screwing the Dean? Better yet, I'm doing his secretary, how's that?" 

I continued to dead pan my words. "You were seen last week at the bar in Le Mas with another man, an overly friendly man I was told."

"Well your information is wrong. They didn't see ME. But you already knew that. You also know damn well I would never do something like that. Is this your way of saying you have problems with my being back in school and not working? 

"Which is it Peter? Do you resent having to support us while I'm not working? Or are you upset with amount of time I have to commit? If it bothers you why not just say so, instead of...of...."

"So it wasn't you?" I said cutting off her diatribe.

Whatever Paige had been doing with her cosmetics failed to soften the glare she gave me from across the room. Daggers flew from her eyes. She looked like we were seconds away from a physical confrontation. I decided to retreat before the situation degenerated further. I had what I wanted. 

I entered the bathroom closing the door behind me. Mindful of both the time and the surroundings I went through the paces of a shower and shave like a robot on autopilot. When I exited, Paige was absent the room. I heard her moving in the kitchen as I dressed, and then I heard the front door close. She had left the apartment without uttering another word.

She lied. I know it was naïve for me to expect the truth. I might not have been prepared to handle it. But damn it, I deserved the truth, not some smoke blown up my ass as she tried to make me feel guilty for asking. She lied to me. She stood across the room, looked me dead in the face and lied to me. 

More than anything else, that simple act of deceit hurt more than if I had caught her in bed with that asshole. I was shaken to the core. I don't know how I managed, but something inside of me would not allow this situation to dominate my thinking. I had responsibilities that day, other duties that had claims on my time. I needed to focus on the immediate needs of work.

That morning I opted for the half-hour walk to the office. It would mean arriving within minutes of the briefing but my muscles demanded a release. With the rain it was a lousy day for a walk but I endured, and actually felt much better when I reached the building.

The executives we invited to the briefing were all in attendance. Our presentations were delivered flawlessly and the questions from the audience were frequent and insightful. We acquired several strong leads at the end, making the event an unqualified success. 

Walking back to my cubicle I was surprised at how easily I had blocked out thoughts of my marriage, at least for the last few hours. I was good at compartmentalizing my life. Like the cabins on a battleship, one room is compromised the others hold to their integrity, the ship stays afloat. My mate deceives me, my marriage collapses, but I keep rolling along. 

The analogy brought forth a smile. People were not battleships. Not all compartments were equal. Compartmentalizing my life meant avoiding the distasteful and the unpleasant. There were steps that still needed to be taken so that I would learn the truth; and for that I needed help. 

Chapter 3: Getting Help

After work I stopped by my dad's. He still lived in the same row house where I grew up in South Philadelphia. While dad and that house had remained in place; the neighborhood however, was undergoing gentrification. What had once been part of an ethnic enclave was now a growing yuppie community. 

All around him were young people. Mostly they were young families but the block was also populated with a number of young single professional women too, and somehow my dad was often the focus of their attention. For someone who claimed he wasn't bedding any of these young women, they certainly were over the house quite often. It was like he was enjoying a second childhood. Given his background, I found the change extraordinary. 

As I turned the corner I saw two young women coming down the steps from his house. They looked to like students, all fresh faced and laughing, carrying books as if coming from a lecture. I could only shake my head and smile as we passed on the sidewalk. 

One constant though, was his approach to problems. He had been a cop for most of his adult life and risen in the ranks to an Inspector. Now retired for five years, he still cast the same imposing figure he had when I was a child; and he still thought like a cop. He would be more objective about the evidence, and if I needed help he could direct me. I knew my father had contacts all over the city. If anyone could school me in my problem it was him.

This was new territory for us. I rarely asked the old man for help. It had been that way since before I was a teenager. I had asserted my independence early and he was never directly considered in my decisions. There were times I thought he wanted to involve himself more in my life but he held back. 

It was different this time. I told him all about the discovery of Paige with another man. He sat impassively throughout the tale only nodding occasionally to indicate he had heard an important point. When I finished he spoke up. 




Mercenary



"I agree that YOU need more info Junior and I know just the person. Let me see the pictures." That was all the old man said before he took a look. A few minutes later he started writing down something on a piece of paper. "Here, this is a guy you want to speak to; he's a PI, the best in the area. I'll call him; he'll probably want to interview you. The sooner you get rid of her, the better. How's your schedule tomorrow?"

I was somewhat startled by Dad's quick summation. He never asked a single question about how I felt or anything about Paige for that matter. Maybe I was expecting too much, but it was unsettling that he immediately made the leap that my wife of six years was history without any further discussion.

"Once you've started the investigation I'll give Liz Fallon a call. Your wife's lawyer is likely to fold as soon as he knows she represents you."

I'd not thought of calling 'Aunt' Liz. She had been my mother's best friend and she was also closer to Dad than anyone other than his sister. A family court judge for 20 years, she was now in private practice. Aunt Liz was a celebrity of sorts; she was a nationally recognized expert and author on child custody issues. She was also a particularly lethal divorce attorney.

"By the way, how are you set for cash?" he asked. 

"I'm OK...I think", I responded. This was the first time I had thought about my finances. 

The old man smirked. "You think? We're talking around ten grand Junior. If you haven't thought about it just know it's cheaper to keep her."

"At what price?" I countered sarcastically. "You know when I came over here I just wanted to talk to you. I found all of this out only yesterday. I'm still trying to make sense of it all. You've got me divorced already." I was feeling very tired. It was probably conveyed in the strain in my voice.

"I'm sorry son. There are couples that do survive infidelity. It's not likely to be same afterward, but that's..."

I closed my eyes for a moment. Of course I had thought about divorcing Paige. That one thought kept percolating to the top of my thoughts ever since I saw the pictures. But it was another thing entirely to know that this same idea was shared by my father. That made the possibility very real.

"Now you are patronizing me. We both know that's not me."

He nodded. "No its not, and I'm not trying to patronize you. I was going to ask you if you need some money." 

"I can manage this. But thanks for asking. You didn't say anything about the pictures?"

My father never hesitated in his answer. "What can I say? Those two are very comfortable in public junior. I hate to tell you this, but in my opinion this is not a simple friendship, they're lovers. Did you notice the looks and body language of the people around them? Those two were obviously making quite a bit of noise. They weren't concerned with being seen or remembered. By the way, did your friend indicate how long he had observed them?"

"He said they were there at least a couple of hours." I said. "Dad you act as if you expected this."

"I did", my father noted as he got up from his chair and headed for the kitchen, leaving me to ponder that last remark. I heard him place a phone call and then return to his seat minutes later. "You're all set for Thursday morning." 

My expression must have alerted him. I was expecting an explanation. Then as if he had forgotten something, he added, "Junior, she lied to you when you asked her about her whereabouts that night. "

"How did you know that?"

"You have your mother's same direct manner, so I know you asked her. Otherwise, you would not have come to see me." That last part was said with a sort of swagger. Then he felt the need to add a further insight.

"She probably said she wasn't at the restaurant then tried to turn the whole thing around by blaming either your paranoia or your insecurities in general. You know, you probably caught her completely off guard. People normally don't expect to get caught. She's guilty. Otherwise, why lie about it? Certainly she's entitled to have a drink with a friend. No, there's obviously more to it than that. I hope you didn't mention you had pictures?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't volunteer any information." 

"Good, I didn't think you had. Shame though, this might be something your marriage could survive. Just because she's seen in a restaurant, that act alone would not merit you even thinking about a divorce. If this wasn't Paige I'd advise you to try to work it out, but your wife is a mercenary so there's no point."

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, let's skip it, you have other things to worry about."

"No dad, I need to know what you mean. You've never said anything like that before about Paige."

"Haven't I? Remember over a year ago when you told me that she was going back to grad school, and I asked you if this was something you two had talked about? You said that you had and I asked how you were intending to swing it...financially."

"I remember that conversation. It's the fist time you've ever asked me about my finances. Why is that significant otherwise?"

"You said you had money saved up and I asked about Paige's contribution. You dodged my question. Later on you let it slip that she was angry at having to take out loans, particularly if they were going to be in her name, even though you committed to paying the debt for her. Do you recall that conversation?"

I did remember that day with my father. I felt uncomfortable answering his questions then. It was almost like an interrogation. He had no right asking such things about our relationship. Our finances as a family were not a topic for public consumption. I didn't understand at the time that he was trying to make a point.

"What surprised me though was you guys deciding to upgrade your apartment just months after making the commitment to Grad school. Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful place son, but I knew it was costing you some significant bucks. I suppose that was Paige's idea?"

I merely shook my head. His read on the situation was unsettling but on point. "I guess in hindsight I look pretty stupid. I just wish I knew why she did this."

"Don't let it get to you. You may never know. When I was on the job I saw a lot of these situations. Granted, I often saw couples at their worst, but in my experience men and women cheat for different reasons. For women it's primarily for one of 3 things: money, emotions or revenge. We'll discount the revenge aspect since you haven't done anything we know of to merit that response. That leaves money or emotions and I'm betting on the money. It's consistent with Paige's past behavior. My guess is that you will find that this guy has considerable money behind him."

"Think about it Junior. You two sat down and planned for over two years Paige's return to school. Then you saved in order to be able to afford her dream. Knowing this, why would she put her marriage, as well as very future at risk for an affair? Paige is no fool; she's not likely to be swept up in her emotions. No. The guy is probably loaded."

I was surprised by Dad's assessment. I wanted to believe that Paige was involved in a one-time fling based on some physical attraction. Strange as it might be, if the relationship were based on the superficial I would have felt better. I never considered that she had consciously planned to betray me. My face must have conveyed my confusion because he continued to elaborate.

"Junior, the woman has not invested one dime in your joint future. She spends all of her money making herself look good. You've been financing her lifestyle your entire marriage, and still she feels an entitlement. But it's not just a matter of her being high maintenance. Many women are high maintenance and their husbands receive as well as they give. Your wife is not that kind... she's a mercenary."

His face got deadly serious as he continued, "However, It's your behavior in the past that tells me your marriage is over."

"What about my behavior?" 

"Junior, how did you react when you first saw these pictures?

"I was upset...almost to the point of being physically ill."

"Were you ever angry? Did you feel that someone had taken something from you or were you merely resigned to the fact that she had cheated on you?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"When this is over I want you to promise me something."

By now I was getting a bit agitated with him. He seemed to be talking around some subject. But he wouldn't come right out and say it. "What?" I asked.

"That you will sit down and talk with someone."

I sat there dumbfounded. Paige cheats on me and the old man wants ME in counseling. However, that was a topic for another time. There were practical problems that had to be worked out. I also had something else to ask.

"Dad, if this doesn't go well I will need to move. Can I room with you? It would probably be for no more than a few months."

"You're welcome anytime. Stay as long as you like. I've got plenty of room and I'd love to have the company. There's just one thing though; I'm thinking of selling the place next spring."

"Oh, I didn't know." I should not have been surprised. A three-story five bedroom house with one occupant was not a situation designed to last. Still, it was the home I knew as a child. 

"I've been getting offers for almost a year. The speculators are ripe in this area and they're not even locals. For what they are willing to pay I can pick up a two or three bedroom condo in Society Hill or Rittenhouse Square and still pocket close to a hundred thousand." 

"Wow."

"That was my reaction too. You know the gasoline station over at the corner of 12th and Catherine?" I nodded, remembering the place where I filled air in my bike tires when I was a kid.

"The owner has an offer of one and a half mill on the table. He's holding out for an even two." 

I shook my head. I'll never understand the psychology of markets. Who would shell out that kind of money for a corner lot or put up $ 400 grand for a row house? Not me, and I had a fondness for the city.

We talked about housing in the area for several more minutes and then settled into a more optimistic discussion of our family. It was good to catch up on the history of my extended clan. I didn't want to admit it, but it was also good to spend some time with my dad too.

Chapter 4: Of Cabbages and Kings

At precisely 9am Thursday I walked into the offices of Hollis and Willows, Private Investigations. As I was signing the registry a large man that I guessed to be in his mid to late fifties came into the lobby.

"Mr. Stuart?" He said, as he locked eyes with me.

"Yes, and you are Mr. Hollis?

He nodded his head while extending his hand. "Pleased to me you. Follow me."

He led me around the corner into a conference room whose door was quickly closed after I was completely inside. The room had a small table with only half a dozen seats. I noted a hidden screen in the ceiling and built in whiteboards on the front wall. This reminded me of my own office. Funny, in a way our businesses were related. We both traded in information. 

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?" I shook my head and waived off the offer with my hand. 

"Well then, I understand that you have a domestic issue you would like us to pursue?"

"I have reason to believe that my wife is cheating on me. The evidence I have is not conclusive. I need verification. Whatever information you can collect will go a long the way in making my case during a probable divorce action."

"You sound pretty sure of this. What leads you to that conclusion?"

I reached in my briefcase and extracted the envelope with the photos of Paige and her 'friend'. I passed them to Hollis. 

"The woman in the background is my wife. I don't know the man. These were taken about a week ago in a restaurant on Penn's campus. The photographer was a patron who was attending another gathering. My wife wasn't the intended subject. A friend who recognized my wife persuaded the shooter to take these."

"Well she seems quite comfortable with this person. You have every right to be suspicious."

Sitting back in his seat Hollis shifted his body in the chair that seemed too small to hold his weight.

"I take it that you have not confronted her with what you know or asked for an explanation?"

"Actually I did. She lied about it."

"Hmmm, that's not important. Truth in our business rarely comes out of the mouth of the adulterous party. I also understand that you have never had occasion to use private investigation services before?"

"No sir."

"I don't want to waste your time Mr. Stuart so let me level set you about our firm and what we do. Unlike a number of our competitors, the majority of our caseload is in matters dealing with infidelity. I'd say however, that eight out of every ten clients is a wife seeking evidence against her husband, though we are seeing more men of late."

"Regardless of the gender, you need to understand that the product of our investigations is indelible. We will likely provide you with itineraries, invoices, photographs, and sometimes even video. We work within the law but not all of our materials may be admissible in court. It depends on the manner of acquisition, the action before the court, the judge, etc. "

"Once you've seen this material you can't take it back; you can't simply erase these things from your memory. We produce an irrevocable product. That is why we have this conference Mr. Stuart, to prepare you."

"Depending upon the location of the parties and the amount of detail you want our services for this type of engagement can be in the range of $ 80 to $ 100 per hour per person. In your case we're looking at a fixed price engagement for $ 5,000 that is if...if we decide to take on your case. Our activities are often, but not always, a prelude to a divorce. I'd advise you that marriage counseling is certainly a much less expensive and debilitating alternative."

He paused for a second and looked over the picture again before locking onto my eyes. 

"We always look for the "smoking gun". Most of the time it's an easy find, but there are rare times when all we acquire is circumstantial evidence. Either way, if she is fooling around we'll know. But understand, we're not voyeurs and we're not here to settle some vendetta, nor do we care to be provocateurs of any violence that might come as a result of our engagement. Before signing on to a case we like to check out our client. Our reputation is too important for us to be involved in anything that even gives the appearance of being sordid...and our retainer would be $ 2,000."

This was certainly not your standard sales pitch. I felt as if I were being interviewed for the role of client. In another venue I would have been half-way to the door by now. But this man conveyed certain sincerity in his presentation that made me want to be his client. 

"I understand Mr. Hollis. If my wife has been cheating on me I only want to be rid of her, nothing more. Personally, I could care less about the man in this. I don't plan on any retaliation against him."

"OK, I hear you. I'll take you at your word, but be prepared to have this conversation again when we've concluded our assignment. Now tell me about your wife."

I then spent the next hour recounting my relationship with Paige almost since from the moment we met. I then brought him up to date with her admission to graduate school and the change in behavior I had seen in recent weeks. I found the very retelling to be quite cathartic. There were parts of this that I had not shared with anyone. 

Hollis listened and jotted some notes on a yellow pad. When I concluded he laid down his pen, reared back in his seat and asked, "son are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"I'm very sure."

"Let me rephrase that. I'm not talking about the money. From what you've told me this is probably a 3-4 week engagement, given the parties are probably all local and we have leg up on tracking them. I'd like to place some recording devices in your home. We only need your permission to do this but the recordings may not be admissible in court. We might hit pay dirt without having an extensive deployment of manpower."

But again, I'm not only referring to the money. Do you really want to divorce this girl? This might only be a harmless fling. She may already regret her actions. Once you read our report you're not likely to be in a forgiving frame of mind. So I have to ask, do you love her? I normally don't ask but because of how you were referred to us I'm curious.

"I've thought about that question a lot. If I can't trust her it doesn't matter if I love her or not. Love is not what you feel, it's what you do. What life could we build? No, adultery is not negotiable."

"I understand your feelings, but this is all new to you. You've only known about them for a couple of days, actually only 42 hours. You might want to slow things down a bit." 

My frown must have been sufficient to counter that suggestion because he then returned to our contract. "My secretary will have some forms for you to complete and she will set the appointment with my associate. I have someone in mind that can start on this assignment immediately. I'll confirm his schedule before you leave. Expect us to meet next to discuss the findings."

With that we shook hands and the meeting ended. As I made my way to my office I felt a strong feeling of regret. 

This was my first definitive act since learning of her affair. It was like stepping into a cave and not seeing any light inside. Paige was such a large part of my life. If she had slept with that man our marriage was likely over. But what would it be like living without her? 

By the time I reached my cubicle a cloud of depression was descending over me. Was I in too much of a hurry? Maybe I should wait at least another few days. I could call Hollis back and tell him to hold off temporarily. 

Noelle slipped her head around the corner as I was adjusting my chair.

"Hi Peter", she said as her smile left upon meeting my eyes. "You look like hell. Even though it's 10:30 I'll bet you haven't had your coffee yet?"

I tried to smile at her but I'm sure she saw through it. There was no point in hiding my apprehension. I didn't know why but I saw value in shielding her from what had happened that morning.

"I haven't had my morning coffee as you've guessed. I've been meeting with a private investigator. "

"Oh...let's take a walk then."

Instead of the company cafeteria, we made our way out of the building. For most of the journey, Noelle was leading the way. The streets were crowded but I was absentmindedly lagging behind. Though unintentional, I happened to focus on her legs. 

Unusual for her, she was wearing a mid calf skirt with a slit to mid-thigh. The contrast was very erotic. My boss, my friend, was blessed with two of the shapeliest pair of legs ever to grace a woman. It was a frightening realization, one which brought on an even greater sense of doom, along with a good dose of shame. 

She was my friend and I had no right to be evaluating her in that fashion. Would I have this same recoil with other women in my presence? Was this to be the hidden legacy of my marriage? Would I always check out my friends in such an overtly sexual manner? Would I look at all women with such eyes?

We made our way down steps to the subway to the underground concourse. Half a minute later we arrived at open-air coffee shop at the Suburban station train stop. Noelle turned to me and suggested that I get a table while she ordered at the counter.

I noticed the sign indicated this was The New Orleans Experience. I recognized the name immediately. We had used these folks to cater our events for years. I never knew they had an actual restaurant.




Mercenary



The place was very busy. I took a seat at the only available table and watched her make her way up the line. I caught myself again admiring this woman's walk. She moved like a cat with authority. When she arrived at the front there was quite a commotion. I saw several people: two men and a very pregnant very pretty woman come from around the counter to greet her. The woman was absolutely stunning. As I turned away I caught a number of men around me also checking her out.

For some reason I didn't like the looks of the men with Noelle. One had an eye patch the other was a tall thinly built black man. She obviously didn't share my concern. Hugs were being given all around and Noelle lit up in a radiant smile. My anxiety over both men dissipated replaced with a warm feeling from seeing her so happy, and yet for some reason I was still slightly uncomfortable. 

Perhaps it was the attention being paid her. When they embraced I found myself becoming annoyed. I had never felt that before. In fact, I had always had a certain sense of pride when a few of the salesmen from upstairs had flirted with her, so this emotion came as a complete surprise. 

They were all brought back to our table and introduced. The man with the patch turned out be her cousin, the woman his wife and the other man his partner. They all treated me very warmly and I tried to reciprocate; yet internally I was still unsure of my reaction; I was so engaged in hiding any appearance of possessiveness. 

Today was the fourth anniversary of their shop and they were delighted that Noelle had stopped by to see them. I don't think any of them paid me much close attention to notice any discomfort on my part.

We stayed through coffee and several cannolis after everyone had returned to their jobs. By now I understood why the shop was so crowed. The coffee and pastries were really good. They provided an excellent diversion. It was odd how food acted at times as a pacifier. 

The atmosphere of this place intrigued me. A couple of years before I had visited K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen in New Orleans; after the meal, assuming you 'cleaned your plate', the staff would affix a gold star to your forehead. I recalled the feeling of sitting in a restaurant full of patrons wearing gold stars, the same ones we used in kindergarten. That similar feeling of well being overcame me as I surveyed the customers in the surrounding tables.

People were actually enjoying themselves. We had been sitting a full 10 minutes and the crowd had not abated. Whatever intangible there is that makes a restaurant a place to be, they had found the formula here. Just as I was about to comment on that to Noelle, the black man known as Joey, who I had met minutes before came towards our table.

"Noelle, do you have a moment?" 

She turned smiling. "Anytime Joey, what can I do for you?"

The man took a seat next to her. "I understand that you volunteer with the Literacy project. I'm interested in joining but I'd like to know more about it before I make a commitment."

"What would you like to know?"

"The folks you tutor, do they know how to read at all? I'm worried that I might not have enough of a background to help. Did you get any training before you started?"

Noelle shifted slightly in her set and nodded. Her eyes shown bright as she began. This was a subject close to her heart. 

"Most of the people I've worked recognized a few words, but I've had a few that could not. You learn how to approach both students. It's really not that difficult. There is an introductory session to get you trained in our role. It's been several years since I've taken it but Peter took it last year. He can give you a better rundown."

They both looked over at me. Why she put me on the spot I don't know. Noelle certainly knew more about the ins and outs of the program than I did.

I began to give Joey my assessment of the training. To me, it wasn't only reading. My students could not count either and that was proving to be more of a challenge. However, after I uttered the first sentence I noticed that he seemed slightly distracted. His attention was focused behind me. So naturally I turned around. Aside from the crowd of folks going to and from the concourse I didn't see anything unusual, so I turned back to him. He was ready with an answer.

"That dude over there has been eyeballing you guys since before I got to the table. Do you recognize him?"

I turned again in that direction. "Which one is he? No one stands out."

"Down the hall, he's walking away from us, on the right, a tall blond guy in a grey jacket. "

"I see him", I said. He was now half a block away and I couldn't make out his face, but I knew it was the man from the photo. Why he saw a need to spy on me was another matter.

Joey was still curious. "Any idea who he was?" 

"Yeah" was all I said. Noelle stood up. Her face betrayed worry. I grabbed my jacket. "I hate to cut this short but we had better go. I'll drop by later in the week and perhaps we can continue this conversation." With that we were off. 

Noelle was silent until we reached street level. Then she turned to me. "This man is dangerous Peter. I don't know what he has in mind, please be careful."

I merely nodded. That was all that was said about the incident.

Chapter 5: The Truth of Things

At the end of the first week of November, I received my last call from Hollis. The report was ready and we agreed to meet the next morning to review their findings.

The intervening month with Paige had not lessened my resolve. She was home more often now when I arrived, and her 'study group' consumed less of her conversation as well as her time. We were talking every evening, but avoided the subject of her having been with another man. 

I knew I wasn't going to be the one to broach the subject. I had made the allegation and it was up to Paige to convince me otherwise. If she were seeking to calm my anxiety by making her activities more transparent it wasn't working. She kept me abreast of her schedule but I found that information meaningless. I wanted to know more about her past activities. 

Still awkward around each other, there hadn't been any intimacy between us for over five weeks. For the first time that morning, she brought up that very fact before leaving for school. I kept the conversation from ending in an argument by asking her to dinner that Saturday. Her face expressed relief in the invitation. It was after she left that I made my way to the offices of Hollis and Willow.

Hollis was there to greet me again but this time he was accompanied by a younger man. The three of us convened in the same conference room. I noted that Hollis was more solemn in his demeanor than in our first meeting. 

"Mr. Stuart this is Josh Clayborne, the lead investigator on your case. We've concluded our work. Here is our final report", he ended before handing me a folder. "We regret to report that your wife has been engaged in a relationship with a classmate, a Richard Lindenhall. Our investigators observed the parties together socially on at least nine occasions over the last three weeks. This is not a mere friendship, the relationship is indeed sexual." He paused at that moment to remove two 8 by 10 glossies. He passed them to me. I took a deep breath as I accepted them. "Pictures, more fucking pictures", I thought.

"This is somewhat unusual, but on one occasion we observed your wife and Mr. Lindenhall engaged in sexual intercourse in a music room in the main library of the University. "

As I stared at the new photographs my heart seemed to stop beating for several seconds. I told myself that whatever they obtained I could handle, but as I saw the picture of Lindenhall's naked ass between my wife's legs my eyes began to fill. There she was in a tight embrace her face clearly shown above his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile covered her face as they mated. 

In the second photo Lindenhall appeared to be riding Paige hard in a missionary position. I was struck by his hand held around her throat as if he were choking her during the act. This was Paige in a pose foreign to me. 

Hollis and Clayborne were silent as I studied their handiwork. It was several minutes before I broke the silence.

"Tell me about him", I finally managed to say, my voice scarcely above a whisper. Hollis raised an eyebrow in response before answering.

"Richard Lindenhall is a first year graduate student like your wife. He's 25, married, and the father of one. He's set to be a third generation Wharton alum. His great, great grandfather was a business associate of Joe Wharton himself. He comes from old money. "

"His father is a senior VP at Woolsey Co., the city's largest brokerage. Richard worked there after getting his BA. His elevation in the firm requires an MBA so daddy arranged his admission to Wharton. Those we've interviewed don't think too highly of his seriousness for the business. To date he has shown interest only in alcohol and women."

"He currently lives in Gladwyn and maintains an apartment off the Penn campus. He and your wife visited there several times during the first week of our observations."

"How old is the child?" I said interrupting Mr. Hollis. He seemed slightly put off by the question. His current theme was Lindenhall, not his child.

It was Clayborne who answered. "Two."

I couldn't hide my disgust. This man was married with a family. Paige was a fool to take such a risk. How would his wife take the news of his escapades with another woman? My eyes drifted back to the photos as Hollis continued.

"Mr. Stuart I need to tell you that all of our direct evidence of the affair comes only from the first two weeks of our investigation. They mostly had their trysts at his apartment, but they weren't above using your apartment too. However, for the last two weeks these two have not continued their activities. In fact, from the phone tap made in your apartment we've heard your wife explicitly end their affair. Our field surveillance confirms her statements."

It took a few minutes for his statements to sink in. I was so busy studying the photographs of Paige in the library that I almost asked Hollis to repeat himself. Did he say our apartment? Paige brought this asshole to our apartment? We had only been in the building since the first of the year and I had made quite a few friends on the floor. Was she purposely trying to risk exposure? Or was this Lindenhall's idea, a way of making a statement, marking a territory? 

So I'm to believe that now Paige was finished playing the whore? Did the lovers have a spat and decide to take a break? Was this really the end? Perhaps if I heard them together I would know. That thought prefaced my next question. 

"Can I hear the last recordings you have of them...together? I want to hear them after this 'breakup'." 

"Certainly Mr. Stuart, we can play the last several recordings", Hollis said as he nodded to his associate. The man pressed a button on a small remote and we were bombarded by Paige's conversations with Lindenhall. Hearing my wife and her lover in surround-sound was eerie. I winced every time she spoke. 

The conversations were as Hollis had stated. Each began as a call from Lindenhall, and each time she told him it was over. In the last exchange she threatened to go to his wife if he didn't leave her alone. Her voice was authoritative, her manner curt. Lindenhall was being dismissed like a servant.

I heard desperation in his voice. That too surprised me. In my grief I had previously envisioned Lindenhall as the aggressor and the one in control of the relationship. Now I wasn't so sure if Paige hadn't approached him! Lindenhall was almost begging, yet my wife's voice remained steady throughout. Did I sound this way in my exchanges with her?

"Well son, have you heard enough? We have other calls, mostly between her and her sister, but there are also a few others. The conversations with her sister indicate that she was a willing party to the deception. She's employed at the same brokerage, and it appears she arranged their introduction. It's all in our report. I'm going to turn the meeting over to Clayborne. He can answer any questions you might have."

With that his associate began the formal conveyance of findings. For the next hour Paige's affair was laid bare. Sometime early during the conference I zoned out and stopped listening. There were vital aspects I would read about later in their report. Hollis was right; the images would remain with me for a long time. 

"Why?" I whispered to myself when there seemed to be a short lull in the presentation.

"Excuse me?" said Hollis looking concerned. "Mr. Stuart, did you say something?"

"I said why. Why did she do this?" 

It was a rhetorical question. No answer was expected. I looked over at Hollis. He couldn't hold my stare; he looked over at Clayborne and nodded. I was perplexed, until Clayborne spoke up.

"Well, Mr. Stuart we have some idea of how to answer that question. From the conversations between your wife and her sister you are referred to as a "starter husband". It seems that she planned to divorce you right after she had completed her studies. We surmise that this Richard Lindenhall was targeted as her next intended."

"Huh?"

"It's in our report. The plot was mainly described by her sister. However, it's unknown as to which of them conceived the scheme, and exactly how long ago they began its execution."

"This was planned?" I thought. I closed my eyes. Theirs' was no chance meeting. I couldn't believe this. It just couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. For the last two and a half years she and I had worked together with a single purpose in mind, to get her into grad school. Why would she jeopardize all we had worked for?

If I'm to believe Hollis, then she was deceiving me the entire time, and this Lindenhall character was likely as much in the dark as me. This was too incredible. Was it truly possible that we were both being played? I couldn't shake the thought. She planned this. The bitch planned this. 

I drew a deep breath. I had never ever thought of my wife as a bitch. I didn't even like the use of that epitaph. Now I was thinking it without reservation. What kind of low life scheme was this? What kind of mind would think that this was OK? How fucking heartless was she? Did I mean nothing to her? Nothing. Was I but a means to an end, whatever that was?

That was it for me. The meeting stopped. Hollis handed me their written report with the exhibits, probably a few hundred pages altogether. Another copy was being delivered to my attorney. As per my request he also provided all of the same on a CD. I thought it would be easier to search for things if I had it in electronic form. What did I intend to search for? Nothing in particular was the answer. It was just me being anal. 

When I left their office I headed home. Noelle knew of my appointment and insisted that I take the day off. I was going to return to work but now I saw the wisdom in her concern. I thought that I could complete an analysis of our finances when I returned, but I couldn't concentrate on that now. The news had not been what I expected. I had calmed down a bit, but I was till trying to bring up some element of disbelief, trying to find something to contradict the facts of what I was told.

Was this affair really over? Did it matter? She was engaged in some other scheme. Was that over too? The evidence against her was irrefutable. But perhaps, just perhaps, she had made a terrible mistake, realized it, and planned to make amends. There was a slim hope of that. 

Could I accept her if she came clean? Who was I kidding? There was no chance of that happening. She had lied already. She had perpetrated a fraud by getting me financially obligated for her. How long had she been planning this? Months? Years? How do I ignore that?

What If I overlooked her affair and she said nothing yet remained faithful? What would I do then? Could I accept that option and just pretend that nothing happened? Could I be married to her and keep the secret of her betrayal? Could I trust her under those circumstances or would I have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my life?

Pacing through the apartment I knew we not going to last. I was close to terminating our marriage but her latest actions complicated matters. Something about her behavior was not making sense. What changed? What motivated her to stop? Perhaps if I had an answer to that question it would allow me to make a decision I could live with. I knew I was missing an important piece of information. What was Paige up to?

If they stopped a couple of few weeks ago I certainly wasn't the beneficiary of her return to monogamy. I might have felt better if she had broken it off immediately after I questioned her. She didn't seem any more affectionate with me. Ironically, in some respects she showed me greater attention while they were together.

I noted again that we had been speaking more to one another these last couple of weeks but it was like having a conversation with a long-time acquaintance. Recently she seemed particularly jumpy. When I asked she claimed to be worried about an upcoming case review. Then she developed a rash which I attributed to her nerves. She'd had the same problem over a year ago before taking her grad admissions exams. 

Whatever the reason for Paige ending the affair, I sensed it did not directly involve her feelings for me. Forget guilt as a motivator. Fear of discovery perhaps? Loss of my financial support was more likely. But if that were the case then why take up with him in the first place?

That afternoon I decided to take an inventory of all of our possessions in the apartment. Having a list with accompanying photographic support would be important in the eventual division of property. But my mind proved not to be on that task either, so instead I took a walk.

I wandered a mile away towards the Benjamin Franklin parkway, that broad vista that ended at the Art Museum. It was at that Parthenon that Sylvester Stallone filmed Rocky standing triumphantly atop its wide steps. It was also on that site that I proposed to Paige one Saturday morning, and where we took our wedding pictures many months later. 

If our marriage were to end, I would plan that end here, on these steps where it began. Under a grey November sky I thought back to how we met.

Chapter 6: How we met 

Up until my senior year of college I had the reputation on campus as Mr. Serious. That nickname was principally the result of several factors: I was an accounting major, I spent most of my waking hours either studying or working, and I didn't drink. Given that many business students work, it was probably the non-drinking part of my profile that mainly acted to limit my social life. 

I should state that I wasn't a monk. I dated, although infrequently. I just never launched any serious romantic relationships, although I did establish a few strong and lasting friendships with my dates. 

I'm a good listener, which makes me have 'friend' potential. Women liked to tell me their problems. Unlike a lot of guys, I didn't immediately offer suggestions or recommendations. Most guys have this desire to 'fix' things. I learned early on from living with my cousins that women like to vent. When they tell you of a problem they have they're not necessarily looking for solution, they're more interested in the telling. So I would listen carefully and only respond when they asked for my specific advice. 

My dilemma was that at twenty I had never had a romantic relationship last longer than a few months and being labeled a woman's friend wasn't leading in that direction. With my job and course load the chances for romance were almost nonexistent. So I was on the lookout for whatever opportunities there were to meet someone special.