Room 702 (6 page)

Doug Lewis is disoriented when he awakes to the sound of birds chirping.
 
The first sound he usually hears is his alarm radio clicking off to Kevin and Bean on KROQ.
 

 
Where then, are the birds coming from?

In a flash he realizes where he is and sits up.

Having not dressed after his shower, he still wears the towel from last night.
 
The remains of his dinner sit by the desk.
 
He scrambles to check his phone – to see if there were any calls made last night.
 
Typing in the password to his iPhone, Doug is relieved to see he did receive a call last night.
 
Walking out onto the small porch he looks out into the golden sunrise.
 
The streets are being cleaned, deliveries are being made – all in all just another day in Los Angeles.

And yet, the day has never looked better.

 
Walking over to his bag he pulls out the suicide letter he had prepared, then rips the paper into many pieces and flushes it down the toilet.
 
Deciding he wants the rest of his life to start now, Doug packs his things up and looks around the suite.
 
Feeling he cannot leave the room without some sort of mark, Doug sits down at the desk and pulls out one of the free postcards.
 
With pen in hand, he writes a brief message:

 
You are important.
 
Someone is thinking about you.

He searches the room for a good place to store the note and decides inside the Bible will be the best option.
 
Perhaps the housekeeping staff will throw away his note later today, but maybe someone else will read the message and feel better about themselves.
 
Hopefully, his message will get through to a person who needs to hear what Kate has more or less reminded him of.

After ensuring the minute strand of hair
sealing the door to the suite has not been broken,
Agent M walks into the room.
 
To the front desk, she’s known as Sally Kessler, a stay at home mom in town for a shopping trip with girlfriends.
 
To her employer, she’s a mole, someone who’s been in place for months gathering information from the R&D department of a high stakes telecommunications company.
 
In the past six months, her work has paid off.
 
Although the research is not allowed off site, with a nearly perfect eidetic memory, she can reproduce the plans of the prototype that is prepped take the industry by storm.
 
She’s kept the company who’s hired her in the loop about developments, but today marks her final payment and delivery of information.
 
To the company she’s been clocking in for, well, no one said corporate espionage was fair.

Hopping on her highly secure computer, Agent M finalizes the last details of the file.
 
Saving the information on an external thumbprint zip drive provided by the company, she opens the details to her Swiss bank account on her iPhone.
 
She has already received one million dollars as a deposit and increments of $250,000 as and when various reports were delivered.
 
Today will mark the remainder of her complete fee of five million dollars.

Her handler, someone she knows only as Mr. S, should arrive in less than an hour to complete the transaction.
 
She does not know what will become of her contributions, nor does she know how the opposing company will react when they realize she’s not returning from the weekend.
 
For either outcome, she cares little.

Finally freed from her alternate persona, Agent M goes to the bathroom and takes off her wig.
 
For months she’s been living as a brunette.
 
Allowing her blonde hair to be free feels liberating.
 
She also removes her color contacts, steps out of her heels, and then peels off the rest of her corporate uniform.
 
As of this moment, ‘Charlotte Martin’ is a person who no longer exists.
 
Pulling on the fluffy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Agent M opens the sliding glass door and brings the trash can from under the desk outside.
 
Although she doesn’t like damaging hotel property, she has no choice and goes through her ritual of burning what evidence remains, all while sipping champagne from the mini bar.

Today is a day for celebration.
 
Having absolutely no contact with her former life for the past six months, Agent M looks forward to reconnecting with her friends and family.
 
Her lifestyle is an unorthodox one, but the important people in her life are used to her coming and going and dropping off the face of the planet for months or longer at a time.
 
She did have to miss an important wedding, but there was no way to go without compromising her cover.

With everything burned and smoldering, she goes to the closet.
 
Knowing she is going to check out of the hotel as a new woman, Agent M brought two bags up to the room – one full of her office attire and the other filled with garments she feels comfortable in.
 
Pulling on a pair of Seven for All Mankind jeans and a colorful Tory Burch tunic shirt, she tucks a small blade into her waistband and begins to feel more like herself again.
 
Opening the safe, she takes out an envelope and looks at her identity and corresponding documents – everything is ready for her seamless departure.
 
By this time tomorrow, she will be in her hometown, sipping sangria with friends.

A knock on the door catches her attention.
 
She places her original identity back into the safe, locks it again and looks through the peephole.
 
Checking to make sure the blade is still tucked at her back, she breathes out in relief as she recognizes the person on the other side.
 
Still, to be safe, she asks, “Are you picking up the budgets?”

“Yes, we need them for the quarterly report.”

This is the agreed identification, so Agent M opens the door.
 
Mr. S, carrying a slim briefcase, walks in and she closes the door behind him, securely locking the device.
 
He makes no comment about her changed appearance.
 
Prior to this meeting, they have only seen each other once before.
 
For privacy and security reasons, the pair communicated via e-mail addresses which they will never use again after today.
 
Additionally, they each have simple ‘pay as you go’ mobile phones which will be destroyed after the money is transferred.

She shows him to the desk, where she’s laid out her report (complete with plans and supporting documents).
 
Taking a seat, he loosens his tie and asks, “Do you have everything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they suspect you?”

“I haven’t given them any reason to.”

“What is your best estimate of when their product will go to market?”

“Six to eight months.
 
They want to launch it in time for the holiday season.”
 
She does not particularly care if Mr. S’s company can get to market first.
 
She motions to the desk and says, “If you’d like to review the schematics?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Water?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Agent M busies herself at the mini bar.
 
Out of habit, she’s tried to glean details about the man occupying the room with her.
 
She’s deducted he is well educated and from somewhere in the Midwest.
 
He is not married.
 
Not only is he not wearing a ring, he has no tan lines to show he’s removed one either.
 
This conflicts slightly with his age, which she believes to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties.
 
His hair has already gone completely silver, but it suits him in a masculine, Anderson Cooper type way.
 
His eyes are a peculiar washed out color, almost the exact grey of his hair.

And yet, for all her abilities, she hasn’t been able to find out his name.

Always one to keep one step ahead, Agent M has spent more hours than she would care to admit looking through various corporate websites and communications to try and identify the man in the lounge, but hasn’t been able to.

For this second in person meeting, she looks over at him and attempts to gather further details.
 
He cares about his clothes.
 
He is wearing a bespoke suit, which complements his large muscular frame.
 
Agent M believes his attention to detail and perfectionism proves he is someone high up in the company – perhaps vice president of research and development, or similar.
 

“Agent?”

“Yes?” She walks back over with the beverage and places it next to the laptop.
 

“Just a few questions.”

They spend the next half hour discussing various details of the plans – how they can be implemented, which factories the competitors are using.
 
Seemingly satisfied with her conclusions, Mr. S opens the laptop he’s brought with him.
 
Connecting to the internet, he types in a few buttons and her iPhone dings letting her know the money has arrived.
 

Looking at her, he asks, “Everything is satisfactory?”

“Yes.”

“We appreciate your professionalism throughout this process.”

Mr. S has been careful.
 
Throughout their transactions, he’s never once referred to his company, used a company e-mail address or even his full name, title or referenced anyone within the organization.
 
In the event of legal action, Agent M has kept copies of their transactions, but as of now sees no reason to have to use them.
 

“I don’t suppose I could ask for a reference, could I?” she asks, smiling and allowing some of her true personality to come through.

Apparently unused to such humor, Mr. S looks alarmed for a moment and answers, “My apologies, but such arrangements were not written into your contract.”

“I was kidding.”

“Oh.”

She wonders if they had met under different circumstances how they would interact.
 
In her job, she doesn’t get many chances at long term relationships.
 

They silently put their laptops away.
 
Collecting his briefcase and standing up, Mr. S shakes Agent M’s hand and says, “A pleasure doing business with you.”

“Happy to help.”

Mr. S moves to the door and in the vestibule stops and before he reaches the door, she comments, “I wonder…”

He turns around and she finishes her thought, “If you might like to join me at the bar downstairs for a drink, now that we’re officially off duty.”

Against his better judgement, he looks her over for a moment and says, “That would be… nice.”

“Greetings, Oscar, how are you today?” Nancy asks from her seat at the desk.

“Pretty great.
 
Thanks for talking to me on the phone last week – my schedule was a little hectic over the past month.”

“My pleasure.
 
However, please let me remind you that you’re not going to get better until you make time for yourself.
 
When all the other people in your life demand time of you, and you do not firmly create time for you, or you and Dani, then we won’t be able to make much progress.
 
I know there are excuses you can give me, but think hard about what you want to accomplish.”

“Okay.”

She looks at her file and says, “On the phone, we last spoke about your relationship.
 
Can you tell me what progress you’ve made in the past couple of weeks?”

“I’m trying to communicate more.”

“How specifically are you doing that?”

 
“I’ve been texting her more, and—”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no?’”

“What I mean, Oscar, is that while we may live in an age of technological advancement, your wife is worth picking up the phone for.
 
I’m sure you have the technology to Skype or video chat with her when you’re on the road.”

“Oh, we do that.”

“Good, now, what have you been telling her exactly?
 
Have you told her that you are meeting with me?”

“No!”

“I understand these are private sessions, Oscar, and that you would like to keep some of the details to yourself, but I think Dani would be hurt if she found out about our meetings and you hadn’t told her.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell her.”

“What are your concerns about?
 
She is your wife.
 
From what you’ve told me about her, she’s a very compassionate individual and one that you love very deeply.”

“I’m supposed to be the one in charge.”

“Says who?
 
The media?
 
Gender stereotypes?
 
So far, you’ve struck me as a bit more evolved than others, Mr. Carlton.”
 
“Fine, I know we’re supposed to be a partnership.”
 
“Are you not?”
 
“Sometimes.
 
But sometimes she’s just so independent – I feel like I’m not even needed.”
 
“Have you expressed this to her?”
 
“No.”
 
“Are you intimidated by her?”

“No.
 
Her attitude is one of the things I love most about her.”

“So, let’s go back a few steps, why are you ‘supposed’ to be in charge?”
“I guess I’m not, but what if she finds out I’m seeing you and she thinks I’m a puss— sorry, less than a man?
 
What if she doesn’t want to be with a guy who goes to a therapist?
 
Who can’t even handle his well funded life?”