The Gray Man Ch. 04 - Liz

Dear Reader,

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination.

Constructive criticism, and feedback is truly appreciated. I would like this to be an interactive journey as much as this medium allows. Please feel free to send suggestions, ideas for future characters etc. I welcome the input.

I hope you enjoy these adventures as much as you enjoyed Sean - no worries, Sean will be back. I just need some time to explore some other areas of my darkness.

Also, if you'd like a character to inquire about Gray's services send me a description and we can work from there.

Keep Soaring,

Pelican

(¬‿¬)

Things around the firm were tense over the next week. Gray kept digging into the espionage even trying hard to not get pulled into the official government investigation. When he had retired he had many offers from clandestine government agencies, from private contractors, and from various lobbying groups and defense contractors. None of those avenues had appealed to him, and here he found himself trying to stay out of the net being cast by the particular agency now looking into Russian espionage.

Louis was pissed that TJ had called a partners meeting instead of coming directly to him so TJ had been demoted to Elliot to pass any information on to the Senior Partner. Everyone around the offices thought TJ was pissed or angry, including his cousin. Truthfully, he really didn't care. He had been on missions where he would only report to someone on a General's direct staff, and on missions where he sent a short coded response to some E-4 who pulled the shit duty at HQ. He had rendered salutes to men and women who deserved it for who they were, and rendered salutes to jackasses who had brass.

He had medically retired as an E-7, but was promoted to E-8 upon retirement as the Army's way of saying thank you for the work that he had done over the years. One of the things he had learned was that people were people, period. Everything in this world has a chain of command and getting butt hurt over who you passed information to was not going to keep you alive in the field. So, TJ just went about doing what he had been doing and giving regular updates to Elliot, as well as double checking his intel through "Sharpshooter" - a former Marine Sniper who had transitioned to work for The Company.

TJ enjoyed a weekend off from other duties as assigned by Gretchen. On a cold January run he actually ran into Sharpshooter - TJ knew that it wasn't by coincidence. In a city like DC, not much happened in the intelligence world by coincidence. TJ's old friend turned in his tracks and started running beside him,

The two old soldiers were keeping up a pace that had been honed by many years outside the wire, but were still able to carry on a normal conversation.

The key to these conversations was to keep moving and never turn to look at your partner, "Could you flip her?" Sharpshooter asked as they rounded a bend on the river.

TJ laughed, "Never my game, I was the intel guy, besides I don't know her. Just where she lives, where she made the drop, and where she works."

Sharpshooter never broke stride or his gaze off of the path, "How did you stumble onto her? I thought you were out of the game."

TJ smirked, "I am. Doing some investigative work for my cousin's law firm. One of their corporate clients had a concern about industrial espionage, guess it went a little higher up the food chain than that. I did what I do and I find what I found."

It was Sharpshooter's turn to laugh, "You never change Gray. I'll tell you what I'll do. I won't let my bosses know who is passing the info and you keep passing me info."

TJ picked up the pace, "That's a one sided deal shooter."

His friend matched his pace, "Only kinds of deals I make, Gray. You know that. Besides, you are getting off lucky because if my bosses knew who was giving me the intel, they'd want you back on the team." Just like that Sharpshooter cut off onto another path, leaving anyone watching with the image of two friends having a morning run along the river.

When TJ got back to the apartment, he saw a familiar car outside. He opened the door to find his cousin sitting on his couch sipping coffee. When he walked in she simply smiled, "Coffee is done."

TJ shook his head, "Thanks for knocking, or even waiting until I got home."

Gretchen laughed, "Hey, I own the place."

TJ joined the laughter as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "What if I were here entertaining a lady?"

His cousin looked over her glasses and winked, "Not like I haven't seen it before. Speaking of watching, how did last week go?"

TJ's brow furrowed, "It went well, she was cute and her husband was, hmmmm. Eccentric in his kinks may be the best word I could use. Once we went to anal he became like a chubby little cheerleader. Hell, I had him cuffed so he couldn't touch his little thing and he had three freaking orgasms watching me plow his wife."

Gretchen lifted one eyebrow, "Well, many are little compared to you."

TJ gave her the thumbs up sign, "This was the size of his cock."

Gretchen rolled her eyes, "Oh that poor girl," she then looked away dramatically, "As for the orgasm from watching, I wouldn't know anything about that."

TJ laughed and threw a dish towel at her, "Yeah, I stopped counting how many times you came in the front of the damn limo."

Her green eyes twinkled as she flipped him off, "Speaking of clients. I still have two for you to choose from. The British Airways pilot will be back through this week, and the agent sent a new request pleading with us to reconsider."

TJ told her cousin about his conversation on his run, "No to the agent. Sorry, because of Louis not giving us good intel I have already attracted as much government attention as I am comfortable with. She is bad news." He took a sip of his coffee. "Let's hear more about the pilot."

Gretchen slid him a picture, she was cute. Small, curly brown hair, she looked to be fit. TJ looked over her info, "Impressive, flew with the Royal Air Force. Started on the Atlas and transitioned to Poseidon's." He paused, "The Atlas is the European version of our C-130 and the Poseidon is based on a 737 airframe. Ours are with the Navy and do mostly sub hunting type of stuff. Now she's first officer on a Seven Eight Seven"

Gretchen shrugged and dramatically shook her head, TJ knew she was in a better mood when she got animated, "English please."

TJ pushed the dossier back across the table, "She's a damn good pilot. So, what's she looking for?"

Gretchen put down the page and looked at her cousin. There was a part of her that regretted that she talked him into this because there was a growing part of her that hated it, and it seemed like he loved it. She looked at him, "She wants the white knight who isn't quite so white. Rescued, from the hotel bar, escorted back to her hotel room, then have her hero fuck her brains out. No alcohol as she will have a flight the next night."

TJ leaned forward and rubbed his temples with his fingers. His encounter with Sharpshooter on the road had unleashed a flood of memories. He thought that he had processed them while running, but he knew now that he hadn't.

As he sat in the chair it felt like the walls were closing in around him. He could feel his breathing get shallow and rapid as his prefrontal cortex dumped an overload of stimulus chemicals into his system.

His body may have been sitting in an apartment a few blocks from the Pentagon on a cold January morning, but in his mind he was in a small block building in a mountain village on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan.

The smell of rice and lamb mixed with the acrid smell of men used to combat and the stench of smoke assaulted his senses. The only saving grace was that his head had been covered with a bag before he was beaten.

His ears felt like he was underwater as he strained to hear the footsteps of the Warlord. He imagined that one of the blows had ruptured his eardrum. His arms and legs ached from being cuffed to the cold steel chair for so long. He had lost all track of time, had it been a few minutes or a few days. Sleep had been non-existent - as soon as his body gave up consciousness ice water was poured over the burlap sack to awaken him.

He had no idea why they hadn't killed him yet, other than the fact that he had taken information from him that had cost them many lives and that he deserved torture before they executed him.

He could hear muffled Pashto conversation. It seemed as if there was confusion on where he was located on the map. Islamabad and Kabul were arguing about who got to send specialist to torture him. The guards joked that they should kill him by cutting off his dick and stuffing it down his throat while waterboarding him.

The warlord was growing impatient. Beating his face had not made the American talk, so maybe whipping him would. Gray felt his arms being yanked above his head, the pain in his shoulders was almost unbearable as a chain yanked his arms above him to the place where his tiptoes would barely touch the ground.

He heard the whip before he felt it. The sharp whoosh and loud crack of the whip as it cut into TJ's back would have normally caused him to scream, but he simply didn't have the energy. The intelligence that Gray had acquired had caused the warlord's three sons to be killed so the beatings came in three. Three loud cracks of the whip, followed by a dousing in freezing cold salt water so that, "My friend wouldn't die of infection."

TJ had lost all track of time as the torture went on. The day finally arrived when he heard the rumble of many trucks enter the compound. Evidently his torturer had arrived.

The man walked into the building and ordered the hood be removed from TJ's head. TJ had not laid down in days, he was either lifted to be whipped or bound to the chair. He barely had the strength to lift his head. The bearded man had one of his guards lift Gray's head as he spoke in perfect English, "I have heard that simple forms of discomfort haven't loosened your lips. Rest assured I will make you talk. If you talk then I will kill you quickly. If not, well..." the man smiled and shrugged, "that's on you."

Gretchen looked at her cousin, "Headache?"

TJ reacted as if he'd been shocked, "No, no. I'm fine. Just trying to clear my head."

She watched him for a moment. TJ was breathing harder than he was coming in from his run, harder than she had seen him with Nadiya. His breaths were not deep enough to lift his chest. "You aren't alright. What's going on?"

His eyes focused on Gretchen but she could see that he truly wasn't fully present, he was a thousand miles away. "I'm fine. What were we talking about?"

Gretchen quietly whispered, "Teej, what's happening?"

He looked at his cousin, "I'll be okay. Let's get back to the case. This is what I know..."

Her hand went out and touched his, "Teej, honey, we weren't talking about the case, we were talking about the British Airways pilot."

"Oh, that's right. She's flying in tomorrow, right."

Gretchen smiled, "Right, and she wants to be rescued from a paramour at the bar, escorted to her room and doesn't want her no to be no."

TJ nodded, "Fair enough, we could see if the Georgetown Fratbros would like a second round. Even though it wasn't planned that way with Nadiya it worked out."

Gretchen smiled, "Oh no, this will be a controlled environment. I have a friend who would be willing to be an aggressive asshole for a small fee."

TJ nodded, "Okay, have your agent try to pick her up, make her uncomfortable. I'll set the ambush."

Gretchen shook her head, "Earth to Thomas Patrick, you are going to rescue her and fuck her. This isn't an ambush. I don't have an agent, I have a friend. Are you sure you are okay?"

Some anger flashed across his eyes, "I said I am fine. Tell your friend to run and not fight, I don't want anyone to get hurt." He smiled but the smile did not go all the way to his eyes.

Gretchen looked lovingly at her cousin, "It's my turn to call bullshit, Teej - you are not okay. You are sweating like a whore in church, you're almost panting, your breathing is so erratic and your eyes have a thousand mile stare. What the fuck is going on?"

When one is in the midst of a PTSD episode, many times there is a tell - but you have to know what you are looking for. Every person is a bit different. Gray had learned over the years that he gets incredibly thirsty and his eyes get dry and itchy. Gretchen however had not learned those tells as she watched him rub his eyes, move to the kitchen and fill a mason jar with ice then water. He put Visine drops into his eyes and drank the entire quart of water before leaving the sink.

He leaned against the counter, "I'll be okay, now what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, the pilot. Like I said, just make sure your friend runs away when confronted."

Gretchen shook her head, "I'm not good with this."

TJ winked at her, "I'm fine Gretch, besides she's cute, she's military, she's going to be a wildcat. Hell, I may not even have to ease into someone for once."

Gretchen's gut tightened, she wasn't sure if it was her anxiety over what had just happened, or the image of TJ shoving his cock home in one brutal thrust that had her feeling uneasy. "Don't kill anyone Teej."

TJ looked out the window, "Haven't killed anyone yet."

Gretchen paused, she wanted to say, "Bullshit," but in the moment she just managed to nod.

Gretchen eventually put everything into place, got the proper forms filled out and gave TJ the go ahead for the evening.

It took him 3 hot showers, a couple of gallons of ice water and a half of a bottle of Visine to calm himself. He looked at the bottle of Woodford on the counter and had to force himself away from that. Experience told him that the pain would be eased, but when it came back it would come back with vengeance. The one constant in his world is that it came back, it always came back.

TJ checked flight schedules and delays the way anyone would when awaiting the arrival of a lover from a long flight across the Atlantic. Only this wasn't a lover, yet. He had never met her and she had never seen his face.

TJ parked in the Cell phone lot and actually watched the big 787 on final. He wondered if Liz was flying the approach or if the Captain was at the yoke. He pictured her, short curly hair, mirrored sunglasses, one hand on the throttles, the other on the yoke giving small corrections as she kept the big bird lined up on the centerline.

He waited a full 30 minutes before entering the traffic queue to the gates. Gray had to make one full lap before he found the van to the hotel waiting for the flight crew. He parked at a distance, hoping that Airport Police wouldn't give him the "move along" command. Fortunately he only had to hear one, "The curb lane is for loading and unloading only," before the crew walked out of the terminal.

The crew was easily recognizable by the flight wings that looked upside down compared to American style wings. He quickly spotted Liz, her curly hair mostly hidden under her blue cap. Her thin frame fit into a sharply tailored navy blue first officers uniform with three stripes on her sleeve. TJ watched as she walked down the walk to the van. She would have captured his attention even if she had not signed an agreement as it was obvious that even under her uniform and jacket that she had an amazing ass.

One of the joys and nightmares of DC traffic was tailing someone. Nobody moved fast so it was easy to keep up, however in the bumper to bumper crush it was easy to get stopped while your target slipped away into the chaos. Fortunately, TJ knew where the van was since the hotel name was printed prominently on the side. This allowed him to drift back a bit further, then slip through traffic to even lead the van to the destination.

With the traffic around the capital area even the short distance to the Dulles area hotels took longer to drive from the airport than a person could walk.

TJ moved a bit ahead of the van, tossed his keys to the valet and slipped into the lobby ahead of the flight crew. He lingered as folks got sorted and checked in before he made his way back outside. He checked his watch - no, not a smart watch but a simple Timex Expedition that had served him well over the years - and saw that it was only a couple of hours before the dinner hour. There was no sense in fighting the traffic in and out of town, so he decided to take a walk while Liz and her crew got situated for the evening.

The problem with airport area hotels all over the world is that they were isolated islands in a tangle of highways. Downtown hotels allowed you to explore, to immerse yourself in the area. Airport hotels were surrounded by the same dull sports bar type establishment, so the walk was boring. The only exciting part of the two hours for Mr. Gray was watching the planes come and go and how warm his "executive overcoat" actually kept him in the cool mist of mid January.

He walked for about 45 minutes before turning back to the hotel. When he arrived he casually moved to the restaurant and found a place where he could order food and observe.

TJ texted Gretchen, "Please let our client know her safeword is Bessie Braddock."

Gretchen texted him back, "Pardron?"

TJ smiled as he texted her back: 'Bessie Braddock once said to Winston Churchill, "Winston, you are drunk, and what's more you are disgustingly drunk." to which Churchill replied, "Bessie, my dear, you are ugly, and what's more, you are disgustingly ugly. But tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be disgustingly ugly."'

Liz checked into her room and took a long shower to wash away the fatigue of the transatlantic fight. She was nervous about what she had contracted with the stranger for. This was so unlike her. She had checked all of the career boxes, military, flight school, promotions, civilian sector, finally BA. Her family was as proud of her accomplishments as she was. However, the realities of transatlantic flights combined with her time she still owed the RAF left little time for anything else in her life.

Elizabeth was tired of saying no to the solicitations from other pilots, stressed out businessmen and women, and hotel lounge assholes. Tonight, she was going to give up a bit of control and do something her therapist referred to as 'non-traditional self care.'

Following her shower she applied a light application of makeup, and slipped into comfortable clothes as she pulled a novel from her flight bag and prepared to make her way downstairs for dinner. Liz ran her hands over her hips as she made one last check of the room. She wanted to make sure nothing too identifiable was left in the open.

She checked the mirror that was just inside the door. At least missing her regular workouts hadn't begun to affect her yet. Her stomach was still flat, contrasting deliciously with the swelling of her breasts and the curves of her hips. For a second she didn't recognize herself. She found herself admiring the image of the woman in the mirror. Light brown curly hair that cut short, her cream blouse accentuated showing the gentle swell of her breasts. Her skirt hugged her hips tightly, showing the outline of her ass, the curve of her thighs as it extended down to just above her knees. The beige stockings, secured with a garter doing their best to show off her legs toned by many miles of running.

She took a snapchat in the mirror and sent it to two of her friends. Another female pioneer who happened to be an Air France pilot, and a member of the German delegation to the United Nations. The three had met while flight training on the P-8 Poseidon. The caption read, "I'll send you an after picture and y'all can decide whether or not you want to meet Mr. Gray on your next visit."