Crossing the Rubicon.
I knew something was wrong. At first it was just a feeling, but now I have proof. Well, almost proof. Evidence at least. Nat has to listen.
I’ve just been over to the hotel reception to ask about booking a table for dinner, or alternative restaurants locally if they are full here. Nat was going to phone through to reception but I said I’d walk over whilst he phoned home to let people know when we’d be back tomorrow. I wanted a walk. To look around the hotel grounds, take in the atmosphere. This is a great place.
I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spotted the car in the hotel car park. “Parking lot” as Nat would call it. A silver, almost nondescript, Ford. Just sat there, blending in. Apart from the sticker in the rear window. KWT-TV I’ve seen it before. I’m sure of it. This morning outside the florist’s where we stopped for a wreath. There was an identical car parked up just along the street. I didn’t think anything of it then. Why would I?
Then, back at Gettysburg, it was there too. Just nosing out of the car park a few spaces away from us as we left. It set my alarm bells ringing but I didn’t know why. It just kind of registered subliminally. Nothing overt, just enough to register in my sub-conscious. Something isn’t right. It was at the 9-11 memorial too.
We’re being followed.
I need to tell Nat. Let him decide what we do. Maybe call his dad or even Christian at Safe and Secure Inc. We have his 24-hour emergency number. We’ve been trained in what to do. How to go to ground and wait for his guys to get to us. I think that’s part of the reason Nat’s dad didn’t want us to leave Pennsylvania. To keep us in close where Christian and his team could get to us quickly. And, of course, if we were to go straight to any police station in Pennsylvania and Nat told them who he was, we’d get help right away.
I’ve got us another escape route too. One even Nat doesn’t know about. The one the guys set up. The rat route to the diner on the Chicago waterfront. The off-grid communications system Will has embedded in the banking system. If we need to, we can be out of here without a trace, but not without help.
Whatever happens, Nat, I’ve got your back.
* * *
Nat’s just put his phone down. He’s smiling at me. Looking forward to dinner and the rest of our final evening alone together.
“Nat, listen. This is urgent. We need to act. We’re being followed. There’s a car in the car park. Car lot, I mean.”
“Whoa, Boots. Where do you expect to find a car? The car lot is the right place for them…”
He’s not taking this seriously. I’ve got to get through to him.
“Nat, I’m serious. Listen to me. We might be in trouble. Maybe even Orange County. Get me?”
That’s woken him up. He’s stopped laughing. It’s triggered his training. I’ve not said the codeword directly, but he’s twigged.
“What’s wrong, Boots?”
“There’s a car in the car lot, Nat. Just an ordinary Ford. Blending in, except it has a sticker in the back window. A TV station sticker. I saw it this morning near the florist’s shop. I didn’t think much of it. But I think it was parked up near our hotel in Harrisburg last night. It was definitely at Gettysburg today. Now it’s down in the car lot here. We’re being followed, Nat.”
Why is he looking so unconcerned?
“Nat?”
“Sorry, Boots.”
Sorry? What the bloody hell does he mean? Sorry?
“Nat, I know who the driver is. When I went to reception, I asked the lady there if she could get me a menu for the restaurant. When she was gone, I reached over the desk and flicked the page over in the register, looked who had signed in tonight. Found the registration of the car. It’s listed under a visitor called ‘Fiona Carpenter’. It’s probably not a real name but it’s something the police can work with. We need to get out of here and tell them. Fiona Carpenter, Nat. Following us.”
“I know, Boots. I should have told you.”
“Told me what, Nat? What are you on about?” What the frikkin’ chicken sticks does he know? Why isn’t he scared?
“You remember at my pop’s Fundraiser, Craig? That I said I’d been asked to do a TV interview? That’s for the TV station that did the documentary on our college after the Snow Emergency. They wanted to do a follow up, see how things had affected me since my pop declared he was standing for Governor. Pop wasn’t keen on me doing it, said I shouldn’t be dragged into politics. I wanted to do it though, Boots. It could help my pop. Fiona is a researcher for them. She does the background stuff for the Traffic Lady’s show. Researches questions. Makes sure the Traffic Lady knows what to ask. She’s been following us, taking photos, preparing the ground for the interview.”
I’m going to punch him. I should punch him. He needs to trust me. Needs to know I have his back. That I’ll support him in everything he does.
I didn’t punch him. I should have done, but I didn’t. Just like I didn’t back at Allegheny when I chased him down after he pranked me with the see-through jammers. I just grabbed him, pulled him close, held him to me. Felt his breath on my neck.
“Don’t ever hold back from me again, Nat. I’m with you. Whatever happens. Got that?”
“Got that, Boots.”
“You better well bloody have, Nat… Now, phone reception and ask them to put you through to Fiona Carpenter. Let’s invite her to have dinner with us. She can ask us whatever questions she needs.”
“Are you serious, Boots?”
“Nat…”
“Got you, Boots. I’ll call now.
* * *
We waited for Fiona in the lobby at the base of the stairs over in the main hotel building. Nat was going to wait for her at our table in the restaurant but I insisted we meet her outside the restaurant, escort her in. Dad would have done the same. Ladies shouldn’t have to go searching. I know Americans are less formal, but I’d love to see Nat try and get away with telling Mandy he’d met her inside a restaurant if he took her to dinner. Nat also didn’t argue when I said we’d wear jackets and ties either. He just slipped off his sweater, put it back in the wardrobe and got out his ARMC tie. I’ve definitely got the edge over him so far tonight.
The moment Fiona came down the stairs, a small, black, alligator leather hand bag – “purse” as they call it over here – under her arm, Nat was all charm again. He stepped forward, smiled, held out a hand, then turned to introduce me.
“Fiona, may I introduce you to Craig Wright, a colleague of mine from Allegheny River Military College. As will soon become obvious, he’s from England. Craig, Fiona Carpenter.”
Nat’s grinning at me, but at least Nat’s got that first bit right. The correct order of introductions. We turned and walked through the frosted glass doors into the restaurant, paused briefly and then were shown to our table by the server who greeted us. As Nat stood to one side I slipped forward and pulled a chair out for Fiona, then sat myself down alongside Nat.
Fiona’s about my mom’s age, and has a nice way about her. Makes you feel at ease. I guess that’s good as a researcher, meeting people all the time. Dangerous too. Gets people to open up.
“Well, I must say,” said Fiona as she glanced at her menu card and then around the restaurant, savouring the ambience, “This is certainly now one of my easier assignments even if it didn’t start out that way. You wouldn’t believe the efforts we have been going to in order to pin you down, Craig. Ever since you appeared alongside Nathan’s sister, Elizabeth, at the July 4th concert at State Point back in Pittsburgh. A ghost, seemingly popping up out of nowhere, completely off the radar. My, the hours we had to put in, going through the archives, calling in favours, asking around… ‘Who is that masked man?’”
She said it light-heartedly, but with purpose. I just smiled and poured some iced water from the jug the server had just brought to our table into each of our glasses, giving me a moment to think.
“Oh, there’s not much to tell. I’m just staying with Nathan and his family for a holiday.”
Actually, there’s lots to tell. I want to tell some of it if it helps Nat. And his pop. Like my dad said, I’ve got to find out what Nat’s world is like. So far, it’s not too bad a world. I just need to gauge how much Nat wants me to tell.
“I think I’m going to start with the seared scallops in red pepper purée and béchamel sauce,” smiled Nat, giving me a breathing space, “You’d love those, Boots. And I’ll just go for a simple main, the prime roasted rib of beef with vegetables. What takes your interest, Fiona? I’m told the food here is some of the best in the whole state.”
Fiona smiled. She’s not taken in. She knows Nat is trying to control the conversation. She’s letting him, for the time being.
“I think I’ll join you on the scallops, Nathan, but for mains I’ll just stay with something lighter. The Boston broiled crab salad sounds delicious and, at my age, it’s probably better for my figure too.” From anybody else, that might have seemed like she was just fishing for compliments, but Nat is on top of it. He’s going to compliment her of course, but so she knows he’s playing the game as an equal, not somebody she can beguile. This is going to be an interesting dinner, the two of them sparring with words and unfinished sentences. The food’s definitely going to be good too. Nat or his pop knew what they were doing when they chose this hotel or us tonight. The menu is every bit as good as the suite of rooms we’ve got over in the stable block.
As Nat traded pleasantries with Fiona and waved the server over to us, I made up my mind from the menu.
“I’ll go for the baked mushrooms stuffed with caramelised French onion for starters, that sounds pretty good, especially with the fresh apple and horseradish sauce. Then for mains I’ll go for the Mediterranean vegetable pasta bake topped with three grilled cheeses and roasted red peppers.”
Fiona smiled, clearly making mental notes. “An excellent choice, Craig. It’s good how there’s so much variety available now for vegetarians rather than just an omelette.”
“Or chicken,” I grinned.
“Craig’s no more a vegetarian than a hyena is,” laughed Nathan, “But he watches his figure too. If he hasn’t got the option of swimming a mile at the crack of dawn, he’ll forego the burger and fries and nibble on a lettuce leaf. He’s a real good cook himself, though. Treated us all to an amazing dinner of butterfish risotto on our yacht as we sailed back home after the July 4th celebrations. Even Elizabeth had a second helping.”
“Risotto’s easy, Nat,” I said, taking his cue. “Just simmer some rice in a pan with some chopped up fish and half a bottle of white wine and cream for it to swim in. Nobody can go wrong with that.”
As Fiona laughed politely - I’m sure she’s keeping score in her battle with Nat – the server gathered our menu cards and hovered for a moment as Nat glanced over the drinks menu.
“Craig and I’ll be having juice of course, but can I make a special recommendation for you, Fiona? There’s an exquisite white on the wine list that I think you really ought to try. It’s a local wine, Mason’s Heritage Line, made from vines that might even have been brought over by William Penn. Exceptional history to it.” Before there was any chance for Fiona to demur, Nat smiled at the server and smirked. “As my pop’s picking up the check, I guess technically I’m not breaking the law and buying alcohol. Me and Craig are sticking with blueberry juice, even if he does knock back a mean pint over in England.” I reckon Nat’s edging slightly ahead on points.
“I’m happy to take your recommendation on the wine, Nathan,” smiled Fiona, “But in the interests of ethical journalism, I’ll be paying my own share of the check. It wouldn’t do for there to be any suspicion that your pop was buying favourable media coverage. Now Craig, what was it you were saying about your relationship with Elizabeth before we broke off to order our food? Didn’t we first see you two together at the opening of the highly rated art exhibition at the Carnegie Gallery almost a year ago? What do you think of Elizabeth’s younger brother here? You seem to be getting along well…”
Like I’m falling for that. It’s the sort of questioning my dad does. Throw together three or four different things, suggest that the answers are already pretty much known and before you know it you’re concentrating on making sure you answer them all, in the right order and not even thinking about if you should be answering them at all.
“Oh, me and Elizabeth are doing fine, we have lots in common.” Well that much is true anyway. She can shoot, bows as well as shotguns, and she loves to keep Nat in his place. “I might even miss her when she goes back to university, and Nat here is tolerable, for a potential baby brother. I could have ended up with worse.”
Fiona took a sip of water as our starters began to arrive and continued her questions, gently probing a little deeper. She isn’t writing anything down. Either she’s got a great memory, or she’s just gathering general background information, not needing to be too reliant on specifics at this stage. Or maybe she has a recorder in her purse. It’s by her side on the table. That’s something Christian mentioned in passing during our training session with him. He’d been making the point that a lady’s purse is a great way of concealing a gun close at hand and in full view, then smirked at Nathan and said about them being just as deadly to politicians if they contained a tape recorder.
“Something that is particularly interesting to Lorna Dellville – that’s our ‘Traffic Lady’ Craig, she did a three-part documentary series on Allegheny College too – is the mystery raised by our sister station a week ago up in Erie. A story of an unknown good Samaritan buying a meal for a down and out at a restaurant there. Real human-interest type of story, got a lot of airplay. Nobody’s managed to identify the two young men seen in the short bit of security video footage available. There was some suggestion though that one of them might have been Nat. Same height and build, red hair. No clear face pictures though. Same goes for his companion. Much the same height and build as you, but again, no clear facial shots. At KWT we were pretty sure it was Nat. We got to know him well during the filming of the documentary. Plenty of footage to compare. We went so far as to approach Nat’s pop, and his campaign team, for a comment. It would have looked good on him, showed the kind of high moral standards he sets for his own family, if he’d confirmed it was Nat, but he wouldn’t. Said Nat’s private life was no concern of the press, and definitely not a feature of his campaign.”
There’s no direct question there. She’s just left the subject hanging in the air, like Nat does at times. Inviting a response by not asking for one, manufacturing an awkward silence you feel compelled to fill. Deep down, Nat would love me to fill the silence. To tell her it was us. Fiona’s right: it would look good on Nat, but even more so on his pop, highlighting the ‘all-American family values’ people prize so much over here. Nat’s not going to push it though. He’s gone to lengths to keep me out of the limelight. Doesn’t want me scrutinised in the bright glare of publicity that tries to follow him around. I guess that’s another reason his pop likes him at Allegheny. In college he’s out of the way. Gets to be himself. It’s down to me if I step into Nat’s world.
“Well, if the footage was poor, maybe Nat’s pop couldn’t even tell who it was…” I blocked.
Fiona smiled as she savoured a forkful of crab, stretched the moment out.
“Maybe so, particularly the images from the external security camera. That was pretty poor. But oddly enough, some more imagery found its way into our hands a day or two after the event. It seems there was another camera, actually inside the restaurant. Brighter lighting. High resolution. With a very clear view of the two young men in question. That was the imagery we asked Nathan’s pop to comment on. Perhaps you’d like to see it too.”
Fiona reached into her purse, slipped out her phone and pressed a button. The screen flickered into life, the video imagery clearly ready set to run. She passed it over the table, laid it square between me and Nat.
It’s us. More specifically, it’s Nat leaning across the table, me leaning towards him, him flying a spoonful of cheesecake to my mouth just like he’s feeding a toddler.
Fiona let the pictures sink in.
Nat’s looking at me. Not alarmed. More kind of curious. Wondering what I’m going to say. I know what I’m going to say. I guess everything on this visit to America has been leading up to this. Do I want to be part of Nat’s world? Because this is the moment where I win or lose Nat.
I smiled at Nat, lowered my voice just a little. “Space for me on your side of the Rubicon, Nat?”
I turned back to Fiona as the pressure visibly lifted from Nat’s shoulders. He knows I’ve got his back. Where I’m taking this.
“We can’t run that footage, of course,” said Fiona. “It would be a horrific invasion of privacy, and Nathan’s not even 18 yet, so we’d never be able to justify it even on public interest grounds. Deputy Governor Bauer knows that too. By not commenting, he’s totally killed the story, even if it has cost him some potential votes. I admire him for that, Nathan, I really do.”
“Unless, of course, I confirm it.”
That’s the result Fiona’s been hoping for. The result Nat’s been hoping for, presumably right from the moment back at the fund-raising dinner where he first got asked about an interview. Why he set up the photo-opportunities for Fiona today. Maybe he didn’t know exactly how it would play out, didn’t know KWT-TV had that extra film footage, but he was working his way towards the end goal. He’s got that now. He’s also going to get another broadside from me too once we get back to our room for not bringing me in on this right from the start.
“We still wouldn’t run the footage, Craig. You might be old enough to approve it, but it still features Nathan. And it might cause you some issues too. Without wishing to be indelicate, it might be construed that you have just as much interest in Nathan as you do in Elizabeth…”
“I think Elizabeth might be the first to tell you that,” I grinned. “What Nat and I feel for each other is no big secret, either with Nat’s parents or mine. I guess Nat’s pop just thought it was nobody else’s business. If you want to solve the mystery of the Good Samaritan for your viewers, you only had to ask us. I’m sure Nat will ‘fess up to it in his interview if The Traffic Lady asks him the right question.”
Nat’s grinning too. He’s got this back under his control. He knows he is definitely going to do an interview now. One he can probably dictate the terms of. KWT-TV want him on air just as much as he wants to be on air. They just have to agree the ground rules. And get them signed off by Nat’s pop of course.
“And something else,” laughed Nat. “Craig can’t sanction running the footage from the restaurant either, Fiona. Despite appearances, he’s actually younger than me. Aren’t you, ‘baby brother’? That’s why I was having to feed him his dessert…” Fiona laughed too as Nat grabbed his spoon and mimicked flying my pasta bake to me.
