Monterey and Carmel nestle against each other on the coast of California on the southern edge of Monterey bay, which also is the home of Santa Cruz an hours drive north.
Monterey is the home of a famous sea life aquarium, the old Cannery Row, made famous by the author John Steinbeck's book of the same name, Cannery Row. Monterey, at one time a fishing town, is now a tourist area that beckons to vacationing families with shops filled with nick-knacks. The pristine waters off of it's shores contain kelp beds that rise like forests from the ocean floor. Seals lounge protected on its shores, where they have congregated long before man was every here.
Carmel also calls to tourists, but ones with a little more money to spend than your average family trying to keep the kids clothed, fed and schooled. Elite restaurants and high-end art galleries overwhelm the central blocks of the town. One hundred twenty-six art galleries can be found in a three block area. Clint Eastwood, the ex-mayor of Carmel own one of the finer restaurants in the village. Kim Novak, famous starlet of the 50's and 60's also owns a small home in that area. It is also known as a honeymoon destination, and has been since early in the twentieth century.
Carmel clings to a stunning coast, the town so picturesque that it should be on some exotic European coast line. The hotels, all charming and inviting.
Susan was always taken by the beauty and ambiance of Carmel, and this time was no different as they exited the highway and came upon the tree lined streets of the village. She couldn't help but look into the display windows of the galleries as they slowly drove through. The artwork shown to entice people inside each establishment was incredible.
“Do we have time to walk around a little bit?” she asked as each gallery slipped passed her sight.
“We don't want to expose ourselves too much.” Brad answered. “It's unlikely that they would look for us here, but by now there might be pictures of us in circulation, and we don't know how wide the net is that they're trying to catch us in. Plus, it could take a long time to find a parking spot. Oh!” Brad exclaimed. “There's one right there.” He quickly pulled into the curb. “And it's only two blocks from the restaurant.”
As the waning sun lit the cresting waves of the ocean into firey colors and stretched the shadows of the trees, the golden light of ending day captured the village with a mystical beauty. Brad and Susan held hands as they casually ambled down the street, looking into the windows and talking about the artwork they saw. They blended in perfectly with the people around them, many of them also holding hands and admiring the villages offerings.
They came upon the restaurant from the opposite side of the street. They were intentionally early. They entered a small espresso shop directly across from their meeting place with Armando and sat at a table in the softly lit room near a window, but not so near that they could easily be spotted from outside. Each ordered an espresso and talked as any couple would do, but if one was paying close attention, he would notice that their attention was more on the street than each other. They scanned the entire view out the window, from rooftops, down each street, looking at people who lingered too long, checking out cars parked at the curb for surveillance teams. So far, they could find nothing suspicious.
“Everything looks okay so far.” Susan said.
“Yes. Maybe we can get through a night with minimal trauma.” Brad said, sweeping the street with a gaze once again. He turned to Susan. “You know, you're getting pretty good at this espionage stuff. Maybe you should consider being an agent.”
She patted him on his hands that rested on the table in front of him. “Why would I give up a high paying job in a safe environment for a low paying job where people may try to kill me?”
“I don't know.” Brad answered thoughtfully. “The adventure. A life that you will remember vividly rather than one where days blend into weeks, which blend into months and end up as years filled with no specific memories. Plus, you get to carry a gun.”
“I'm carrying a gun right now, and I'm pretty sure what we're going through right now would pass as an adventure. One I doubt I'll ever forget.
“What about you, Agent Brad Wilson of the Special Branch of the Anti-terrorism Task Force? You don't really seem all that thrilled with your new job.”
“Well, it has had some intense moments over the last two days, considering I suddenly wasn't sure who I was working for. But, you're right. I'm not thrilled about being back in the service again, but it could be to our benefit.” He paused in thought. “I was getting settled in to ranching. It's an old, familiar place for me. I grew up in it on the very land that I'm on now. After all that I've been through over the last twenty years, it was a nice contrast.”
“I really turned your world upside down, didn't I?” Susan said regrettably.
“Yes.” Brad said with a slight smile. “But you turned it upside down when I met and kissed you at the side of the fence I was working on, back – how long ago was that – years?”
“Two days ago.” She said.
“I have to admit - “ she continued, “Even under those circumstances, with that goon chasing me down the road, you left a very definite impression on me right away. Kissing me as a deterrent was the most unique method of stopping the problem that I had ever seen.”
“Who said I was deterring a problem? Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”
She grinned. “Perhaps you are a romantic after-all.”
“There's Armando.” Brad said, nodding towards the distant street corner. Susan looked, seeing a handsome man of obvious Latin decent with short, black hair, cut in a military style. He was about 6' tall and wore Khaki pants, an open collar sport shirt and a loose windbreaker. Like Brad, he moved with an easy, athletic gait as he walked down the street. The upper sleeves of the windbreaker stretched from the pressure of thick muscled arms.
“Now, there's a guy who looks like an Agent.” Susan remarked. “It must be the sun glasses and his purposeful movement.”
“He's doing the same thing we did. He appears to be looking straight ahead, but he's checking out every body and everything around him. I guarantee his eye are on the move right now.”
Armando walked passed the restaurant as if he hardly noticed it, only glancing in as any passerby might do.
“Where's he going?” Susan asked.
“He'll be back in a moment. He's just checking everything out first.”
“How clandestine.” Susan remarked.
A few minutes later Armando appeared on the sidewalk in front of coffee shop window, glanced inside and smiled directly at them, then crossed the street and entered the restaurant.
“He knew we were in here.” Susan said in surprise.
“It was an educated guess. He figured out what he would do in our circumstances and assumed I would do the same thing. Yeah. You're right. He's good.” Brad rose from the table. “What do you say we eat. Our dinner partner has arrived.”
As they jaywalked across the street they looked both ways as if watching approaching traffic, but Susan's eyes swept all movement in the direction she was looking while Brad did the same in the other direction. They watched for anybody watching them, but everything looked very ordinary as they entered the restaurant. A maitre'd met them at a polished oak counter and guided them through a room of circular tables with white linen table clothes. Each table had a Chianti bottle wrapped in wicker in its center. Thick candle wax clung to the bottle sides like a frozen water fall. The tops of the bottles holding long, fresh candles each casting a pool of flickering gold.
Brad and Susan were led to one of the few booths in the far depths of the room. The booths had high backs, which gave their occupants almost complete privacy, and total invisibility from the street windows. Armando rose and hugged Brad as the maitre-d turned and left. “Good to see you alive.” He said slapping Brad on the shoulder. He then turned to Susan and extending his hand. “And you are the now famous Susan Jenkins.”
“I didn't know I was famous.” Susan said, shaking his hand.
“Unfortunately, you're famous in the underworld of espionage at the moment, but with luck we can make you non-famous once again.” Armando spread his hand in offering towards the booth. “Sit down, mi amigos. We'll order drinks and then browse the menu, and remember, this is government business, so they're paying the bill.”
They ordered a bottle of red wine and french bread as an appetizer. Armando moved the menu aside and brought a manila envelope from inside his windbreaker, placing it on the table. It looked thick.
“This is information on De La Cruz, Spike Olaf, and you asked for some information on Joseph Eichmann. I brought it, but I would like to get some feedback on that. You said Joseph is involved in this in some way. He was once my mentor, so I have a personal concern. I would find it hard to believe that Joseph is one of the bad guys, even for money. Remember, this old man is a seasoned spy who has seen it all. He knows how to twist things and manipulate situations in his favor, and he can do it so subtly and innocently that a person can find themselves at the end of the plank wondering how he got there, but he's always done it for the good cause, the country.”
As Armando spoke, Susan removed three folders and an envelope from the package.
“Inside the envelope is $10,000 cash, which should be enough to cover all unforeseen possibilities. If something happens that would require more, let me know.”
Susan slipped the envelope into her purse without opening it, then handed Brad one of the folders as she opened one that she had sitting in front of her. “Spike.” she said, identifying the one she was scanning through. Brad did not open his but continued talking to Armando.
“Joseph didn't give Susan and I much information, but he did say he was contracted to a group, which he only identified as the Committee. The impression I got is that they are very big international money.”
“Hmm.” Armando grunted contemplatively. “The only committee I can think of would be the Ti-Lateral Committee. The most exclusive club of monied power brokers in the world. Also, one of the most secretive. Their actions are always done with extreme discretion. World chaos is about the last thing they would want. I would think that a stable economy and a smooth running world commerce would always be to their benefit.
“Selling of the weapons system is a one shot thing worth over a billion, and then there is the mess to deal with after wards. These people would look at the bigger picture. What they would want is the billions to flow continuously, a thriving commerce. One shot would be chump change to them and a little too back alley.
“Eichmann may be working for them, but I'd bet you anything that he has his own agenda going.”
While Armando and Brad were talking Susan was going over Spikes profile. Still rifling through the pages she said, “Spike is sort of like a shark. He's barbaric, but a seasoned predator. His arrest history shows a person who makes mistakes, especially when things don't go his way.”
“Are you saying you have a plan?” Brad asked her.
“No. Not yet. But one is formulating. Let's look over the other files first.”
Just then the waiter walked up to their table. They casually closed the folders and stacked them to the side. “Ah!” said Armando. “Let's eat first. We can think better on full stomachs.”
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
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