Chapter 5: The Waiting Game

I hate waiting.

Christine was gone, headed back to a place called Conley to oversee the movers as they packed up her belongings for the trip west. Lizzy was flying down with Amber to keep her company on the drive back. When she told me they were both going, I couldn't help but think that it was going to be an interesting trip. I expected Lizzy would take advantage of the time to tell Christine the truth about our relationship. I was a little unsure of what her plans were for Amber, but I guess leaving her alone at school was not an option, not yet anyway, not when the idea of spending a whole day alone with her own family practically drove her to tears. Besides forcing her to see the truth about herself, Angela's ordeal had left some deep scars. Now that her abductor was dead, I expected to see some improvement, but it would be a long, long time before we could ever leave her alone for any length of time.

Tuesday night had seemed to go on forever as my nervousness over getting Christine safely away kept me from relaxing. Allison did her best to help, but I just couldn't relax enough in the dream, and there was no way I was leaving Christine there alone just to get laid.

As for Christine — after so long chasing her dream, she was beyond excited to be starting flight school, but disappointed that she had to leave before she got a chance to, as she put it, "Properly express her appreciation" for all I had done. Apparently, mother was right: in the grown-up world, sex is indeed a perfectly acceptable way to say thank you.

At ten-twenty-seven AM Wednesday morning, as Christine's plane pulled away from the gate, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. Shortly after lunch — my time — Allison locked herself in her room for a long nap. We both felt a lot better when she got up.

Wednesday night I spent in Indiana with Lizzy. A side benefit of this visit was that it was also Amber's first night with Dean Worthy. I'm sure she would have had no problem going under Lizzy's direction, but I felt it made more of an impact if I sent her personally. She bowed and thanked me before leaving, her red collar proudly displayed as she went to her first real night serving a stranger. It was a bold step on several levels. It was the first time we had given her to anyone without being there in person, and therefore it was also a brave step for her, going out alone and unprotected for the first time. Of course she knew that if she even breathed fear, Jamie would be there in a heartbeat. I think Jamie was more nervous about this whole adventure than the rest of us were. It was also hard for me to use her like this, giving her to a stranger, especially when it was a stranger that I knew had issues. If not for the many hours I had spent with Jasmine and May at The House of Seven Willows, learning my role as Amber's Master, I don't know that I could have done it. Even with all that, I was torn about doing it, the tipping point was that it was Elizabeth's idea, and I trusted her instinct. Without that...

"No way in hell," Jamie said when I mentioned it. I didn't bother arguing the point; we both knew she was right.

Lizzy and I spent some time talking to Bob, some more time with Rod and Rebecca discussing my meeting with Rod's Vegas counterpart, and time helping Amy as she worked to catch up with the world again.

For her part, Amy was being very understanding of our need to take her new best friend away for extended periods.

I know Rebecca was worried about what was, to her, the unnatural fixation that her sister was showing for a 'person' that Rebecca knew was not real. All things considered I wasn't surprised that Amy was so attached to him. Being in a coma for twelve years and waking up to a strange world the way she had, any spot of familiarity would be comforting. Considering that Walter was the only one who had been with her through the transition, it made sense that she would be more attached to him.

From the beginning, Amy, had been an anomaly we couldn't explain. She knew things she shouldn't know and was apparently outside of all the accepted 'rules' for how my little dream world worked. Where I could pull anyone else into a dream environment at will, with Amy it had been more like I invited her, and she came on her own. We knew early on that she could move around in a manner similar to the way I did, but she had made it clear immediately that there were serious limitations on what she could do. It 'hurt' her to go into other dreams, except for mine, they were easy. But where I could do almost anything with anyone else in a dream; with Amy, I could barely manage to change her clothes. In my first attempt to change her from her white and pink dress to a simple red two-piece swimsuit, the best I could do was a white one-piece trimmed in pink, the same colors as her dress.

Towards the end, I had theorized that Amy was not actually moving around on her own, but somehow 'borrowing' my ability when she needed it. However, now that she was awake, there was no indication that she still retained that ability — if she had ever had it in the first place. Since, according to Walter, she was hiding the rest of the knowledge she had gained during her long sleep, he was now the only person she 'knew' that was able to stay with her as she worked on her rehabilitation. Even Rebecca was a stranger to her, and they were spending time getting to know each other again. Walter was proving himself to be an invaluable part of her rehab team, even though none of the rest of team could see him and really didn't believe he was real.

I felt bad taking him away from her, so we tried to limit our daytime use of Walter to those times when she was napping — something she did frequently as she was still very easily tired out from her exercises. She was making remarkable progress physically, though, and the doctors were well pleased with her strength, stamina, and commitment to her recovery. In fact, her lead therapist had started enforcing mandatory rest when she started showing signs of being a little too aggressive in her efforts. Bob and I had assured her that he was correct in his concern, and that if she hurt herself she could set herself back months having to wait for the injury to heal. Even worse, she might do the kind of damage that the body never fully recovered from. Amber had been the one to suggest incorporating yoga into her routine. The emphasis on stretching and meditation rather than building muscle was a big plus. She also found a book called Callanetics written by a woman whose own back problems prohibited her from doing many more strenuous exercises. Personally, I didn't see how they would help; I had tried a couple, and they damn near killed me.

Rod was a little surprised that Spencer had had my car tagged, but given the people that she usually dealt with in Vegas he wasn't all that surprised, especially given the circumstances surrounding our meeting. I had replaced the new and improved valve stem the next day. As for my little gift from the FBI, I rolled it up inside a ball of Silly Putty and kept it in a small plastic bag in the center console where I could get to it if I needed to get rid of it in a hurry. The silly putty was in case I wanted to attach it to another vehicle, say a truck headed cross-country or a car I might actually want the FBI to find someday. Until then, it could come in handy for establishing my whereabouts should anything else questionable take place. The FBI was a pretty credible alibi in a pinch.

Thursday morning I finally spotted someone following me.

"About time," Jamie said.

"Yeah, let's see if he's got any friends."

"Can I drive?" she asked.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "I'll drive, you spot."

One thing about the Impala, it was easy to spot, so once we left the first guy bogged down at a stop light the second car had no trouble picking us up again. And of course, seemingly everyone's favorite backup these days, the guy on the motorcycle, covered the interim. After a little more time, we confirmed there were actually two motorcycles; a guy in blue and white leathers on a crotch-rocket and a big, hard-core-biker-looking guy on a Harley. Good cover actually; no one would expect a bike that loud to be used for following someone. He actually pulled up next to us at one light and commented on my car, telling me his ex-wife got his in the divorce, before roaring off as the light changed. That took balls, considering it gave me a close look at one of them. It was a brilliant move for allaying suspicion, though. By then the second car had managed to pick us up. We spotted the biker watching us go by from a parking lot a few blocks later. Whoever these guys were, they were serious about following us. Four units for the first round showed a lot of commitment on their part, especially considering I hadn't even tried to lose them yet. Not really, anyway; the first one had just been good timing with the lights. I couldn't help but wonder what they would do if I went to the effort. It took almost an hour of running make-believe errands to get all four license numbers. I called and gave them to Rod in hopes of finding out who my new friends were.

Oddly, I found that I felt much more relaxed now that it appeared that something was finally happening and it was just a matter of time before this would be over. It almost felt like a game; wondering when and how they would make their first attempt at grabbing me, if they would try to sneak up on me or go the bolder route of a public confrontation; the old pistol wrapped in a newspaper "Just get in the car" routine. Thinking about that one was a mistake; it reminded me of what the last group had done to Britney, and that pissed me off.

All four vehicles came back as rentals. That wasn't too surprising, but it made it a lot harder to get any real information, as even the FBI had to have a reason to snoop into business records. It was just another indicator that she was sticking with professionals this time, and that they were serious; motorcycles aren't cheap to rent. After lunch I let them follow me to a local mall, where I spent some time shopping for camera equipment. They kept their distance, so the one thing they didn't see was that I had actually bought myself a memory card to use in the various cameras I was trying out. Most stores take the cards out so they don't get stolen. I told the salesperson that I wanted to take the sample shots home and blow them up on my computer for comparison. He was impressed with my approach. Somewhere in there I just happened to get several shots of both my new biker friends, who had conveniently followed me into the mall, and took them to Spencer. It was a coin toss whether they realized where I was going. The FBI doesn't have it's own building so there was at least a chance — albeit a slim one — that they wouldn't realize the truth.

"This is an interesting twist," she said as she handed the card off to one of her lab people to process. "First you ask me to stay away, and now you want my help."

"I just don't want your people hurt, Mrs. Spencer. As long as no one gets hurt, I'll take all the help I can get. If nothing else, I'd like you to have as much information as possible in case I've bitten off more than I can chew. They've been following me all afternoon, so I think we're getting close. Besides, I wanted to look you in the eye when you assured me that it's not your people."

She laughed, "I'm starting to like you, David. They're not. As for the rest, you're probably right — they're serious, and this level of surveillance is expensive to maintain — so whatever they are going to do, they will likely do it soon. Are you sure you don't want me to have someone keep an eye on you?"

"No, with four of them watching me, it would be pretty easy for them to spot someone else following me."

"I was thinking of something more personal. You're an attractive young man of means in a city of players. I was thinking of having you hit it off with one of my agents, maybe have dinner, a night out, and then she could spend the night without arousing suspicion. Strictly professionally, of course. Don't get any ideas. I don't pimp my people out."

"You don't think I could charm her on my own? I'm hurt."

She laughed again. Her laugh surprised me. It was a very happy, innocent, sound. More like you would expect from someone in their teens, when the world was still a happy, innocent, place. It was my experience that the realities of life tended to grind that away over time, especially in people in her line of work. It made me wonder how my own laugh sounded compared to a year ago, or two.

"You're welcome to try," she said, "but of the two I had in mind, one is married and the other is very gay. She can play the part convincingly — she would even get all hot and steamy with you in a public setting — but you'd be very disappointed when you got behind closed doors."

"Oooh! Get that one!" Jamie said excitedly.

"Slut!" I laughed. "The last thing I want is someone I have to watch myself in front of. If they come for us overnight we'd be seriously limited in how we dealt with it. Besides, what could she do without blowing her cover and maybe escalating the situation? No, we're better off handling this on our own. Maybe if we get a chance someday, you and Amber can meet her."

"Thank you Mrs. Spencer, but I won't risk your agent. The more I've thought about it, the more I've come to realize that she probably still won't come for me in person; she's more likely to send someone to bring me to her — less exposure that way; she may be nearby this time to keep an eye on things, but I don't think she'll actually confront me until I'm secured somewhere, and there is no telling what instruction they would have regarding anyone with me. Most likely they would hold off until I was alone, but they may decide to take them as leverage against me, especially since I've already proven myself susceptible to something like that. If they were to take us both, then we would have to keep up the illusion. My guess is that if somewhere along the way they should discover who she really is — and the Queen will be able to spot an agent — they may kill her. I think I'll have more options if I don't have to worry about others. Besides, if it's only me he has to worry about, my source will be freer to move as well. I have no illusions about how I rank compared to maintaining his invisibility, so the fewer witnesses, the better the chances he will act."

There was a knock at the door, and she waved someone in. It was the tech she had given the memory card to.

"What do you have, Michaels?" she asked.

"I thought you'd want to see this right away." He handed her a large manila envelope, and she pulled out two large photos. Instantly her eyebrows shot up and she turned to me.

"These are the men that are following you?" She turned the pictures towards me.

"Two of them; you know them?"

"Avery Clarke," she said, laying the biker's photo on the desk in front of me. "He's a local bounty hunter, and Franklin Reynolds..." the guy on the crotch rocket, " ... his sidekick. Excuse me."

She did something with her computer and then picked up her phone and dialed. "Avery? Spencer. I know you're close to my office, get your ugly ass up here, we need to talk, bring Renny with you."

She called Davidson in and sent him to the lobby to escort them up, and then she pulled a small device out of her desk and turned back to the tech. "Escort my guest to the men's room." She handed him the device. "Don't come back until I buzz you. Oh, and give him back his memory card."

"This way please," he said, holding the door for me.

I actually did have to go.

"She hired locals again?" Jamie said as I was washing my hands. She tends to run and hide while I'm doing bathroom stuff. "That makes no sense."

"I know, let's not jump to any conclusions, okay. Looks like maybe we caught a break; let's see if it's something we can use."

I didn't have long to wait before my escort tapped on the door, and then opened it, and said, "They're ready for you."

He walked me back in and handed the little buzzer to Spencer before leaving. My two tails were sitting facing Spencer's desk looking very surprised to see me.

"Okay," Spencer began. "Avery, what do you know about this man, and why are you following him?"

Clark looked at Reynolds; Reynolds held his eye for a second and shrugged. Avery turned back and pulled a small pad out of his leather vest, opened it, and started rattling off information, "David Malcolm, residence..." he went on to give my address, a description of my car, a few other minor details and where I'd been the last twenty four hours. "As for the rest, it's a simple surveillance job, no big deal."

"Who hired you?"

"Come on Spencer, you know..."

"It's important Avery," she said, cutting him off. "I need to know."

"The Davidsons," Avery answered, shaking his head.

"Were they in the two cars?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was a simple surveillance gig, just follow and report, what's the big deal here?"

"Call them," Spencer said. "I assume they're close. Tell Greg I want to see him right away."

"Shit!" Clark said, digging a cell phone out of his jeans pocket and hitting a button. "Greg? Avery; me and Renny are in Spencer's office, and she's got a bug up her butt about something; she wants you to come and help her dig it out ... Fuck if I know, she said to bring Sam with you." He closed the phone.

"Cute, Avery," Spencer said. "I'm going to remember this conversation when I'm reviewing your next renewal application."

"I think I know where this is going," I said, stepping forward and extending my hand. "David Malcolm."

"Avery Clark," the big man said, shaking my hand and laying his out flat.

Reflexes got me through the rest of the motions; hand slap, finger grip, and fist bump. I turned and repeated the ritual greeting with his partner.

"Frank Reynolds, call me Renny. Are we fucked here or what?"

"Wait for it, Renny," Spencer instructed.

"Yes ma'am." He settled back in his chair to wait.

We didn't wait long as Spencer's phone rang. "Spencer," she answered. She listened for a few seconds and said, "Take them to conference room two; it's already too crowded in here." She hung up and rose. "Gentlemen, if you'll come with me, we'll see if we can get to the bottom of this."

"Do you think they're related?" Jamie asked.

I had actually been wondering the same thing myself. The answer came shortly after we settled ourselves around the conference room table.

"No, I don't think so." I said. I think I mentioned Agent Davidson was built large. The Davidson brothers were built on a more normal scale.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Spencer began, "and thank you for joining us on such short notice. Though I'm sure you already know who he is, allow me to introduce Mr. David Malcolm. David, Greg Davidson and his brother Sam; you can do the guy rituals later. Gentlemen, if you would please have a seat."

The brothers sat down and Spencer immediately asked, "Who hired you to follow this man?"

"No idea," Sam said, shaking his head. "Got an overnight delivered two days ago, name, address, and picture enclosed, along with five grand cash for a surveillance job, plus another five when it's done. Everywhere he goes for the next forty-eight hours, emailed to a hotmail account. The note said he was slick, so be careful not to get spotted. We figured if they were paying that much for the job, then they knew what they were talking about, so we called Avery in to assist. Obviously we should have hired professionals instead."

"Fuck you," Renny said with a laugh. "He spotted all four of us."

Davidson ignored him. "What's going on here, Spencer?"

"I don't know," she said.

"You're being played is what's going on," I said. "Mrs. Spencer, I need to know that what I'm about to tell you won't leave this room."

She glanced around the room, making eye contact with each of the men. "Agreed?" she said.

"Fuck," Avery swore, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "I am not going to like this. Renny and me are cool."

"Greg?"

"Come on Spencer, you know us better than that?"

She nodded. "Go ahead David."

"Yes, they did know what they were talking about, they've tried before. They've also tried kidnapping me, twice. The second time I got a call in the middle of the night from a young woman I had been seeing. They had taken her to use as bait. I was instructed that there were two men waiting outside for me. I went out, got in the car, yada yada. Long story short, I got my girlfriend back and the two of them, along with three more, got to spend some quality time with the FBI in Los Angeles. The two who had picked me up were local private investigators who had been hired to transport me — nothing else, just drive me to a location not too far away. You can imagine how pissed off they were when they found out what was really going on."

"Damn straight!" Renny said, nodding his head.

"What makes you think that's what's happening now?" Greg asked.

I glanced at Spencer. "We can't tell you that," she said, "but based on what I know, I'd say he's right; you've been played. Do you still have the envelope and letter, Sam?"

"It's all at the office, but we've handled all of it a lot over the last couple days. I don't think it will do you any good," Sam said.

"Leave that to us," she answered. "What about the cash, did you deposit it?"

"Hell no I didn't deposit it," Greg said. "You think I'm reporting five grand in cash to the IRS? Get real."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Spencer said with a smile. "I'll send Rogers to collect it all." She held up her hand to stop his protest. "Don't worry, you'll get it back; I just want to check it and see what we can find."

"You won't find anything," I said.

She gave me that obligatory "we'll see" look and continued, "I also need the email address they gave you and any information you've passed on so far."

"Something's not right here," Jamie said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Where are the bad guys? You don't pull something like this with intel provided completely by strangers and sent by email. What good would it do her to know where we've been over the last forty-eight hours? What she'd need to know is where we'll be at a particular time in the future. How does any of this accomplish that? You know as well as I do that this kind of job looks for patterns, and we don't have any. The only thing this gives her is our home address; Paul found that without even leaving his office, and apparently so did she since she sent it to them in the instructions."

"Where did you guys first pick me up?" I asked.