The Sentinel Ch. 04

"Woo, you look like shit. You have circles under your eyes; your skinny little ass is skinnier; and you wander around in a constant daze. I deem this conversation over. I do not want to see you in my office - no wait, inside bureau installations until the first of the year. I am calling travel. They are going to get a reservation for you to Cancun. You are to report to that flea bag hotel the bureau has reserved year-round, and you are to go to the beach every day. Upon arriving at the beach, you are to remain stationary except when applying Government- Issued sun block and lifting the occasional Government-issued beer to you lips for a refreshing sip. After six PM every evening, you are to report to the night spot of your choice and 'blend in', continuing to lift the occasional Government-issued beer and gyrating your body among whatever crowd of people that happens to be on whatever dance floor."

"I quit."

His response was quick, sharp, and to the point; Linda actually jumped. "You cannot quit. You have an assignment, and this conversation is over. Now, get the hell out of my office, go pack your bags, and get to work."

She fought to hold the tears in until she could get to her office. No way was she going to some fucking beach in Mexico. She was not going to quit looking until she found closure, and she knew finding the next victim would bring her that.

After closing and locking her filing cabinet and desk and leaving the top of the desk as it was, she called Tom. There was no banter, just a request to meet her at the bar across the street in fifteen minutes. And no, it wasn't too early. With a very satisfying slam of the Government-issued door on her way out, Linda said a silent goodbye to her career – a career that was starting to interfere now with her real life anyway. It was time to stop skulking and get down to the business at hand.

* * * * *

The meal had been great; the company, comfortable and interesting; and the wine - both bottles - a very nice Merlot. After returning to the house, Jan had followed Jack to the kitchen with the groceries and waited as he found a place to put them. Stepping close before he could find something else to occupy his hands, she'd leaned in and whispered, "Thank you, Jack. I'm better now." Then taking one of his hands in hers, she'd continued, "I am committed, Jack. We will get this guy." She had given him a peck on the cheek and pulled away, banishing him to his room where he could take a break while she cooked.

Jack had used the time to check his own mail. It seemed negotiations were going well with the other two freight companies, but it was the last line from Juan that most interested him.

"And tell me, Jack, did you wear out your new shoes yet, pinché cabron."

Jack wondered how Juan had figured it out but decided it really didn't matter.

Then Jack had gone into chat and looked around for a friend of his, someone he'd met during his quest for Lisa's killer. He was one of the few people Jack had grown to trust enough to go on cam with, if for nothing else other than the company it provided. Being a software programmer that worked for the biggest software company in the world, Lee had given Jack tips and ideas, even snippets of code that helped him set up his monitoring room. Jack had alluded to needing a 'hobby' to occupy his time, indicating life in a wheelchair could be pretty boring sometimes, but he knew Lee didn't swallow it. At the same time, he hadn't pressed for more. Exchanging chit chat and observations about the future direction of computer-based communication, Jack had, to his surprise, grown to enjoy Lee's company.

After sending him a quick mail using an encryption program Lee had given him, Jack put his computer away and waited to see what Lee could find.

Now, after a wonderful meal that spoke of simple fulfillment and casual domesticity, Jack was sitting in the middle of Jan's bed. He was relaxed as he watched her walk around the room, turning on her computer and talking about his plan. "Look, Jack, I think your plan can work, but I don't have a lover or even close friend I can ask the favor of, and I'm not going to rush around and pick up just anyone to help us out with this. Besides, owning a company the size of mine has taught me one thing - containment. The fewer people involved the less chance of leaks."

Opening her closet, she reached in and brought out white silk pajamas that hung from a padded hanger. Laying them on the bed, she reached back to unzip the dress that Jack had pulled over her head that morning. Suddenly, Jack realized she was going to get undressed and started to move off the bed to leave.

"No, Jack, stay. You will be my lover - the man I share with the killer."

With that, the dress fell away, and Jan stood there in her sandals and panties. There was no challenge in her eyes, just quiet questioning as she waited to see what Jack would do. Resigned to the fact that Jan had no qualms at all about her body or casual exposure, Jack scooted back to the head of the bed and sat, arms crossed, contemplating.

"Won't work. The killer knows me, has seen me. What the hell is he going to think when he finds me here with you?"

"Suppose you're shy, Jack, new to this, afraid of someone seeing your face on cam, and we cut it off. People do it all the time. Hell, you can recognize more people in chat from the neck down than you can from their face."

"My scars, front and back. I was shot; I told you. I have two very nice reminders in the form of an entry wound and surgery on my back. The type of wound and results were all in the paper. The killer would know all about it."

Hooking her thumbs in her panties, Jack watched as Jan pushed her panties down; her neatly trimmed pubic patch was a stark contrast as the white lace slipped past. Letting them drop, she stepped out of her sandals and crawled up onto the bed on all fours, her head a foot from his.

"But you can walk, Jack. And if you told me right, no one else knows that but you and me." Moving closer, she balanced her weight on three points of contact with the mattress and placed a hand on Jack's thigh. "How many people do you think get shot each year? Maybe, you're an ex-cop or went to Desert Storm to fight, Jack. You decide. But I won't do it with anyone but you."

The last woman Jack had made love to was Lisa - her arms, her lips, her body as they lay in her bed and loved away the night. 'Don't go Jack, what could you possibly have in your office that's more important than this'

If he'd only stayed. Then it happened. Jan's lips were warm and soft, a faint taste of lipstick as she kissed him. Her hand moved gently under his shirt exploring, touching, as she moved closer, finally falling into his arms, head on his chest, a bare breast resting on his stomach with one leg crooked over his as she waited.

Jan whispered close and intimate, "Jack, we can do this cold turkey on the cam in awhile, or we can get to know each other first."

It was not a place where men go very often in their lives - not what society expected or dictated of them. It was something Jack hadn't done since Lisa's death. But here, in Jan's arms, Jack was finally able to let go. His sobs were silent, but strong and deep, as tears fell from his chin onto Jan's hand. He brought his free hand up to hide them, but Jan took it and gently guided it to her mouth where she kissed his fingers softly, lovingly. "It's okay, Jack. It will be okay."

* * * * *

Returning to her office after a few too many beers, Linda decided she could do this thing. Hitting the enter key, she watched as the mail went out to John. She was sure sending it to him would be enough. It was cryptic but made the point.

John,

Put me down for $20. Here's my best guess on date, time, and hour - even to the minute. Wanna go double or nothing?

Linda

By the way, I understand sticky fingers will be a part of tonight's program.

Adding the date, she included a time right to the second. If I can't quit, I'll get fired. I have more important things to do.

* * * * *

The Sentinel had not always been like this. The Sentinel had not always been a jaded cynic. The Sentinel hadn't always sat in a dark room, staring at computer screens as they flickered and blinked. The Sentinel hadn't always been a Peeping Tom, an unashamed voyeur that drew life and excitement, lust and fulfillment from other people's miserable little moments on a cam.

It seemed like another life, another person that had a job - more than a job, a profession. The Sentinel could even see that person in the mirror after a shower, after washing the stench of the nest off. The Sentinel could find that person in the closet among the wool and silk, leather and cotton. Here was the armor of Wall Street or the Supreme Court - the trappings of power or fame, wealth and education; the finer materials; the traditional colors; the 'mark of the beast', smirked the Sentinel.

"Did I not come from the beast?" cried the Sentinel; the walls were a cold comfort for such hard words. "Am I not here because of them?" The Sentinel looked up as if searching for God. But no, there was no answer. There was no sudden insight as the Sentinel turned back to the screens, eyes scanning from one screen to the other.

It was for that reason the Sentinel sat in the room - the nest, naked. It was in this way that intimacy could be found. Here, in front of the flickering pictures of life, the Sentinel had no secrets. Here, the Sentinel tried to feel as vulnerable as those being watched. The Sentinel wanted to feel their vulnerability, needed to be inside their minds, to live vicariously through their lives if for no other reason than the need to have a life...any life, but this one.

A window would be nice thought the Sentinel, if not for the light or warmth of the sun, then for the option of jumping. The Sentinel needed to feel that quick rush of life as the adrenalin pumped through the body to make you want to save yourself. You could never feel more alive than when it reached every cell, in every part of your body, making it vibrate with power, and sharpening your senses as you listened to the wind whistle around your head.

So strong... It would take three small seconds to fall to the pavement. Slow them down. Stretch them into minutes that slide into hours, and you see in detail, the table, the dirty dishes, and the discarded place settings on the floor below yours as your body passes by into oblivion.

The Sentinel contemplates who might have sat there a few minutes before, eating, maybe talking and laughing - two settings with scraps of food; a bit of wine and a lonely rose, slender and delicate, in a crystal vase between the plates - a still life depiction of romance's afterglow as the Sentinel's downward journey continues as if in a dream.

As the next floor glides by on this ride to hell, the elevator operator can be heard saying, "I give you the fighting couple. We've all seen them but do we really know them?" A man's face contorts in anger and disgust; a woman's face fills with fear and rebellion. The room is as shabby as their pathetic little lives and a rush of tranquility falls over the Sentinel as the choice is confirmed. No need to stay here any longer; time to see what better things exist. Be it heaven or hell or just quiet serenity, it must be better than this.

"Step back, please, and let the other people off," the elevator operator intones. "Sorry, kids, this floor is for adults only." The Sentinel is suddenly overwrought with inner conflict. Is this it? Is this a reason to fight? Fingers claw the air helplessly, flailing wildly, body shifting in freefall from the effort. The next floor is love in the form of an unmade bed; a couple presses together. Her legs wrap around his body, pulling him, wanting him. His hand rests on her breast as he caresses the vessel of life, the place for nurturing and growing, and God's face is there, looking on, with a smile, for he is pleased. Or, is it just lusty procreation and could that be the devil giving direction?

The Sentinel squirms, eyes clenched, shut tight with feelings of regret. Can I stop it the Sentinel wonders? Can I return to my window and the familiar stench of the nest? If only I had shut them down. If only I had not looked so long - left them to their lives and gone about my business. A tear slides across the Sentinel's cheek, pushed by the wind as the freefall continues. The tear disappears in the air like a magic act perfectly executed.

"On this floor you'll find the real reason for living," chides the impish elevator operator. And there he is. Small and vulnerable - mouth, open in a primal cry. Id brought to life and voice. As the mother lifts him to the window, the baby's arms flail about as if imitating the Sentinel's own wild gyrations. Her eyes lock on the Sentinel's as the pavement rushes up, and the dream deepens.

The Sentinel's own body relaxes in the old barrister's chair as the mother sends out tranquility by way of a kiss, blown out the passing window. Quiet resignation settles on the Sentinel as if the kiss was a lifeline, and it keeps the Sentinel warm for the last half second before impact.

"Ground floor. Time to get off, folks. Hope your ride with us today has been a good one - one to make your visit worthwhile. Please watch your step as you get off."

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo." The cry is savage as the Sentinel jerks awake, sitting upright, rigid in the old leather chair. Still startled and sucking in air, the Sentinel looks around the dismal room, lined with flickering screens and longs to finish the dream.

* * * * *

It had been slow and gentle - Jan undressing Jack, exploring his body, and stopping to inspect and kiss his wounds. It had been purposeful as they sought gratification so long denied, and had found it in the warmth of another human's tender touch as love was administered as well as taken.

In the shower afterwards, they had washed each other slowly, taking care to lavish the other's body in suds and attention. Kissing Jack once again, Jan had poured the suds and warm water over his balls and cock until a stirring started again. "Wait, Jack. As much as I want you now, we'll need that for later."

They had moved around the bedroom, testing camera angles and movements to insure Jack could participate without being recognized - setting the stage. It was agreed that Jan would be in the picture completely, as always. Jack's laptop sat on the floor to one side of the bed out of sight. Logged into the same service Jan was using, they were 'Sharing Desktops' which gave Jack a window that showed Jan's computer screen. They had centered the chat window and cam so both could be seen on Jack's computer. Using some freeware Jack had come across, his computer was set to copy what happened at a frame per second while they were on cam with the killer that evening. He wasn't taking any chances of loosing data.

They had devised a scenario designed to bring 'cyber' Lisa on cam; or if they could, simply to provoke a reaction and see if somehow the killer slipped up.

Logging on, it was still a little early so Jan returned to the bed and snuggled in beside Jack, her body molded to his. "Jack, whatever happens, that was nice. I see now why Lisa loved you so much."

* * * * *

"And do you know where he is?"

"Yes, Sir, we have men on the beach, on each side of the property, another at the entrance, and we're patrolling the road to insure there are no vehicles parked that look out of place."

"Okay, I told you several times, but I want to reiterate; money is not an object. If they split up, I want your people to stay with both of them. If your people fuck this up, heads will roll."

"Yes, sir, we understand."

Hanging up the phone, Juan leaned back in his chair and wondered. Could he really do this? Go through with it? Should he consult someone or keep it all low-key? If anything went wrong, there could be hell to pay later.

* * * * *

After a year without Hank, Jan had accepted one of Dave's joking invitations for dinner and a movie, thinking he might be someone that would understand - a warm body she could share some space with and not become too complicated. It turned out that in spite of appearances, he had proven to be a particularly immature man with some real issues concerning the opposite sex. Suddenly, Jan had found herself more committed than ever to her cyber-relationship with Lisa.

This left Dave lounging on his bed, wearing nothing but briefs as he watched the two computer screens. He knew his 'Jan' would be out shortly, as always. Hitting an icon, he watched his programs loading and reached for a Kleenex box.

Money could buy a lot of female companionship, and enough money let you do pretty much what you pleased with that companionship. She may not be with him physically now - that had been a disaster - but he could still smell her perfume and feel the touch of her hand.

Dave didn't understand kindness or polite tolerance. He thought Jan's acceptance of his joking insistence had been a signal that yes, he had a chance, and yes, it could happen. He knew she didn't see anyone else other than another woman in chat, but that was okay, in fact, that kind of made it all the more exciting, more titillating.

To Dave, the talk of another person being introduced as well as Jan's beautiful nude body, made it that much more interesting. Yes, that other guy may be with her, but he knew that wouldn't interfere or last. The guy may be around a night or two, but she'd always be back to smile and say 'hi' to him as she arrived in the mornings and when she left in the evenings.

Hank's invitation to participate in the start-up company had been a god-send, and now, Dave enjoyed both money and respect - well, respect from most people. He'd also learned what could be done with money, the pleasures that high technology and a few hackers' programs could bring right into his bedroom.

Yes, his 'Jan ' would be back.