This Side of Death Ch. 08

When life exceeds fantasy, there is no desire to roll back over in the hope of re-entering the dream world. And yet, as I opened my eyes, it was a dream world. The room could easily have been that of some five star tuck away cabin, both in furnishings and scent. Where was I and who's hand is that laying across my naked flesh?

"Hello there sleepy head," a feminine voice called out to me in my dream. "Get up and share my shower with me."

The morning of a new day brought not only a replay of the night before, but also inspiration and a hopeful resolve. Over bagels and eggs, I shared my proposed plan with Dawn.

"Ya, that might work. At least we would be surrounded by others. I like that. And I do know someone who could keep an eye out and tell me if they see his name on an inbound flight. We could hand him his jewels and stamps and what not along with a prepaid ticket right back from wherever he flew in from. I think with you there as a witness to the whole thing would temper his response."

Those were two of the longest weeks in my life. Dawn returned to working her normal hours so as not to call any undue attention to herself. Though we waited for a phone call either to the house or to her place of employ, it never came. It seemed as if the fox was just as weary as the hunted were of displaying any hints of impropriety or inquisition because of it. It was a surreal moment in time that I could see was wearing on my new found friend.

Because of the nature of the beast, we had remained a couple. Either I was sleeping at her house or she at mine. I was embarrassed that my place was thread bare in amenities. But Dawn seemed happy to stay with me because it hid her away from that which reminded her of that which had sent the proverbial snowball down the hill and over the bridge --signing the house over to her daughter. Surprisingly, though not purposefully hiding the recent events from Audrey, it had gone unnoticed by her.

The day finally arrived. Dawn had been notified that Max was listed as being on the five-thirty wide body. I had made her breakfast but she hardly touched it. I was thankful it had come to fruition on a weekday. Work had kept her busy. However, even so, the drive to airport had her all twisted in knots, second guessing everything we had planned for about every response, even giving everything back to him, including the money. I let her ramble. She needed to talk it through and work what she could out of her system.

So here we found ourselves standing in the main corridor looking up at the board at arrivals and departures. Max's flight was on time. Due to all the security restrictions, we would be unable to directly watch for Max departing the plane. Dawn had informed me that he always traveled light, only bringing carry-on with him each time. No need to go below to baggage. He'd head straight for the car rental. A Lincoln Navigator had been reserved in his name. They only had the one and it was the same one that skidded to a halt that night on the bridge.

As people began to crowd around us, also looking anxiously for their loved ones, business partners and the like. I took Dawn by the arm and scooted her off to one side behind a big'n tall family and waited as the first passengers began to appear down the aisle. The trickle began to grow into river of people of every size and dress. Then there he was. I didn't need to have him pointed out. With a dress coat draped over one arm and the carry-on rolling behind him with the other hand. Indeed, he was a deeply tanned man with jet black hair tightly pulled into a short pony tail. Standing out from everyone else, he was a prince among paupers, an Arabian among beef cows, walking with a confidence that set him apart from the herd.

Having verified that he had, indeed, arrived we turned and headed down the corridor to await his arrival at the car rental. It was there that Dawn would stand alone while I either leaned up against the far wall or on the other side of the large circular counter. She stood there all alone holding the purple and gold draw string bag and an eleven by fourteen manila folder.

Just then three large men in business suits hustled in from outside, walking past Dawn and toward the main corridor when Max rounded the corner. Apparently he knew the men. The confidence that I had seen just moments before suddenly morphed into deep concern if not fear. He stopped. Looking about, it seemed he was an animal who knew there was no escape. The three men quickly surrounded Max. Not more than twenty feet away, the muted conversation had an air of official reckoning about it even before the badges came out. I turned to look at Dawn, shrugging my shoulders and holding out my hands in a 'now what' gesture. She just stood there dumb struck, unable to move as the three men turned Max away to head him back up the corridor from which he had just come. But just as they turned him back, he caught sight of the woman he had thrown off the bridge. A brief struggle ensued as the raven haired man sought to believe his eyes. Then he was gone.

"What was that all about?" Dawn shouted over to me as we looked in unbelief at one another.

"I don't know. But it appears as if he was being arrested. For what, I couldn't hear."

"Did you see him look at me?" Dawn asked.

"Yes I did. That is going to haunt him," I assured her.

As we were about to turn and leave, there stood in front of us yet another man in black suit and tie.

"Mrs. Clarke?" the man inquired as Dawn stood there blank faced and unanswering. "I wasn't aware that you were summed here to meet your husband. I'm sorry for that. He had a car reserved so we didn't figure on you being here to witness his arrest." Maybe it was her blank stare that extruded further explanation. "It seems, ma'am, that your husband has been involved in high level corporate espionage" the man confessed before clearing his throat, continuing, "that involves international concerns."

"What? Espionage? What's going to happen to him?" she asked with sudden concern.

"Well ma'am, I don't rightly know. But these are serious charges, all of which have been carefully followed, substantiated and documented. Mind you, it's none of my business, but if I may, I would advise you to find you a good lawyer and consider filing for a divorce. It's just a guess, though an educated one, I doubt your husband will, anytime soon, see the light of day except from behind bars --even if he does cooperate. He's ours now, ma'am."

The man in government issued suit and tie looked quizzically as Dawn slid her hand with in mine as she asked him, "Do these things really belong to him?" Dawn held the purple velvet bag out to him. Opening the bag, looking at the articles within, the man looked back up, drew the string and handed the bag back to her.

"Ma'am, it's not for me to say --officially. But, if I were you, I'd just hide those things away for the time being. If you're not contacted about them anytime soon, then I guess they'd be yours to do with as you please. I don't see it making any sense in having them locked away somewhere where they wouldn't be doing anyone any good. Do you? I reckon you could say they are your severance package." The man then tipped his hat and said, "Good day to you ma'am. I wish you all the best" after which he gave me yet another up and down measurement before turning away to follow his three companions.

"What the fuck just happened, Chance?" It was the first time I heard Kendel Dawn swear.

* * * * *

It's been nearly two years now since they carted Dawn's husband off to God knows where. There was an official letter sent to her several months later merely stating that he had been tried and convicted. There was no detailing to what he had actually be charged with or how long his sentence was. Along with that government letter head letter came another document, a writ of divorce signed by Max's own hand. There has been no other correspondence since then. No men in black suits have been seen. Nor have there been any dark windowed SUV's dogging Dawn's day-to-day travels.

I still see her occasionally. About a week after the airport incident, Dawn's daughter came back asking if she could stay at the house for a while. I think Dawn and I both understood what had happened between us. I'm not saying that she is gone for good. The truth of what happened that night on the bridge eventually came to bear its full weight on her shoulders. It was something that I seemingly couldn't help with. Soon after that she began seeing a therapist who, so it seems, thought it best that she not see me for the time being as I reminded her too much of her brush with death in those deep, cold, black waters of Witch Candle Bay.

She and I have scheduled a date on the last Saturday of the month. I have patiently waited in hope. She sounded strong and encouraging on the phone. As Red wondered as the bus headed him across the border, "I hope the ocean is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope."