Authors: Ara Grigorian
“Yes,” Tish said, “like criminals on the run.”
Andre studied Gemma. “That bad?”
“It’s almost comical now. Particularly with my injury. There’s apparently a large bounty for any photographer who can get a picture of me in a wheelchair. And if I had been in one, someone would have been wealthy by now because those bastards seem to know where I’m going even before I’ve decided.”
“How’s that possible?”
“She’s exaggerating,” Tish said.
Gemma glared at Tish.
“Okay… how’s your therapy coming along?” Andre asked.
“Fantastic, thankfully. The injury was significantly less traumatic than originally diagnosed. I’ll be able to play a few practice rounds tomorrow to test my strength.”
“That is excellent news.”
“She’s a machine,” Tish said. “She’ll fight through anything. Stubborn as a mule, this one.”
Gemma turned to Andre. “If you’re looking for a smartass assistant, please tell me. This one,” she said, pointing to Tish, “will be available very soon. Although I must warn you, she is more ass than smart.”
Gemma had been right, the food was divine. An exquisite blend of French dough mastery, Italian sauces, and Asian spices. This restaurant had it all. They even had fresh
Lahmajoun
, or what his grandmother, who was of Armenian descent, called Armenian Pizza.
“Small world, isn’t it?” Tish said, glancing at Andre. “You two bumping into each other at the airport and then on the same flight to Los Angeles?”
“I still think she’s stalking me. On the other hand, maybe it was predestined. Depends on what you choose to believe,” Andre said.
“What do you believe?” Gemma asked.
“I believe all the planning, preparation, and dreaming sometimes makes no difference. In other words, anything can happen at any time. Does that mean everything in life is random? Is coincidence a way of life? Maybe. Then again, in chess, the masters know how the game will end after the first few moves are played.”
“I’ve heard that before. Why’s that?” Tish asked.
“In chess, each move has a finite number of counter moves, and most are predictable. The great ones can practically fast-forward the game through its various permutations and predict what will happen next. In life, as in chess, we can also guess what our actions may cause down the line.”
“But chess has rules,” Gemma said.
“You’re right. And typically, unlike in the game of life, no one makes unreasonable moves. The challenge is everything we do sets off countless events, building on trillions of events that happened in the past, unnoticed or forgotten. For argument’s sake, imagine if we could calculate and track every little detail, then maybe we could fast-forward to see what would happen next. Of course, we don’t have the intellect, or the technology, so we can’t predict it. Yet. But just because
we
can’t do it today, doesn’t mean it’s not predictable. So, having said all that, who knows what this little dinner may cause?” Andre speared a forkful of sun-dried tomatoes and goat cheese. He glanced up. “Any guesses?”
“The way you’re putting away that cheese,” Tish said, “I predict heartburn and gas.”
They had polished off the pizza and waited for their desserts. Tish typed away on her phone.
“How long have you known each other?” Andre asked.
“We met at tennis camp when we were ten,” Tish said.
“You play also?”
“
Played
. I got tired of getting embarrassed by the great one. Would it have killed you to throw one lousy match?”
“I took pity on her and now I don’t know how to get rid of her,” Gemma said.
“Bollocks!” Tish said, grinning ear to ear, still looking down at her phone. “You’re lost without me.”
Andre eyed Tish. “Were you born in Ethiopia or North Wales?”
Tish’s jaw dropped slightly, and her eyes rolled up to meet his. “Ethiopian parents, born in Wales. How’d you manage to figure that out?”
The waiter brought the coffee and tiramisu. Andre took a large serving. “Shot in the dark, lucky guess.”
“Bullshit. Explain.”
“Your last name is a dead giveaway: Nigist means ‘queen’ in Ethiopian. Also, your long, narrow facial features are regal. High cheekbones, long neck. Classic Ethiopian. Then there’s your accent. The Welsh have a melodic way of speaking. When you speak, you’re practically singing. The Southern Welsh accent is barely English.”
Tish considered him for a moment then brightened. “So you think I’m regal and sound melodic? I’ll take that compliment.”
“Now she’ll think she’s the queen incarnate,” Gemma said, shaking her head. “But don’t hesitate to ask Her Majesty for anything you may need. Tomorrow’s a bit of a mess for me. I’m booked with therapy, training, and interviews.”
“It’s not a problem; I know people in London. I wasn’t expecting you to take me sightseeing. I’m here to watch you win the whole thing.”
Gemma blushed. “Don’t hesitate to call Tish. She can arrange anything for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. In fact, there’s a couple I have to visit while I’m here, otherwise they’ll disown me. I’ll see if they’re free tomorrow night.” He would visit Jeffrey and also apologize to Emily in person. Just because he couldn’t make it to her engagement didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of the situation and visit them.
“Oh,” Gemma said, a ring of disappointment in her tone.
“Which of course can be changed instantly if you had something else in mind.”
“There’s a little celebration tomorrow night. I thought maybe you’d like to join me.”
“She’s being elusive,” Tish said. “The Prime Minister has invited her and a few others to celebrate her Aegon championship. It’s a big deal.”
“The Prime Minister? Well, that’s perfect. I’d be honored.”
“Okay,” Tish said, “I’ll call the PM’s office and let them know you’ll be joining. Any instructions?” she asked Gemma.
“Tell them Andre is a friend from the States. No need to give more details.” She studied Andre. “You don’t have a criminal record, do you?”
He shook his head. “Not a record.”
“So Mr. Andre,” Tish said, “do Yanks travel with suits, or do I need to make arrangements?”
“Some do. And some even travel with clean underwear.”
A large crowd had already gathered outside the restaurant. They had found her. Gemma’s security had also been contacted. As soon as they stepped out of the building, her security enveloped their group and moved them quickly to her car. Andre scanned the faces of the people. He paused, staring at one guy in particular who held a cell phone outstretched. Andre recognized the face. He was sure of it now. He had seen him at both the airport and again in the hotel lobby.
“In the car, sir,” the security said.
From inside the car, Andre tried to find the man, but the stalker was no longer there. If his suspicions were right, then he’d have to alert both M&T and local authorities.
They drove off, and as soon as Glen lost the tail, he immediately took Andre to his hotel. Andre and Gemma stared at each other for a few moments, but it was clear Tish didn’t know everything. They hugged when he left. Nothing more.
Later, from his hotel room, Andre called an old friend.
“This is Frank Maloff.”
“Mr. Maloff, it’s Andre Reyes.”
“Dr. Andre? What a great surprise. How the hell have you been, kid? When will we have you back at the NSA?”
A good question. Something he would consider in the coming months. The National Security Agency was responsible for collecting and analyzing communications from foreign entities. They secured the U.S. government’s communications and related systems. Frank was the deputy director of the agency, and Andre had worked with Frank for years.
“You know my situation. I’m married to M&T with a solid prenup.”
“I know. But I want you to know mine is a standing offer. We could use you here.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you on that someday. For now I need to ask you for a favor.”
“We don’t do favors. We repay debts. What do you need?”
“I need the source code of the utility we wrote for monitoring the sleeper cells in Madrid.”
“Whoa! Are you tracking terrorists?”
“Close.”
Thirty minutes later, Andre had the source code and was developing a new tool.
“Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome.”
~Arthur Ashe
emma’s car arrived at Andre’s hotel at 7:30 p.m. She had hoped they would have spent more time together the night before, but when the paparazzi found her, the only choice was to first lose them and then covertly drop off Andre. Today was a new day, with new possibilities.