The Current Between Us (4 page)

Moving his hands through his hair
, he got the look he liked with a little bit of gel and a little bit of the blow dryer’s help. He decided to keep the five o’clock shadow, which always made his features look more masculine, and he did a quick trim job on the growth to keep it neat. His nose seemed a little too wide to him, but no one else ever seemed to notice, and there was just nothing he could do to hide his lips. They were big, full, and wide, spreading easily into a smile. Gage’s reputation categorized him to be no nonsense, a total hard ass. That irony meant that most people in his life didn’t know how much he loved to laugh and smile.

He decided on jeans and a white with blue plaid, lightweight button down. Gage flipped on the lights to his bedroom, dressing in front of his mirror. He left the shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the top and at the bottom. Gage stood tall and muscular with a solid six pack. One he got from real work, not the gym. He
’d carried his own equipment during every report throughout all the years, but his body looked more like a swimmer’s body, lean and long. Nothing about gallery or desk work gave him the workout necessary to retain any sort of muscle, anywhere along his body. If he intended to maintain this body, he needed to reconsider the gym option.

He added a few accessories to finish off the look before checking his reflection one last time in the mirror. He liked real clothes and spent a fortune on them once he
’d gotten back in town. He packed his closet full of casual, easy wearing clothes. He loved the surfer guy look of today, but he also grooved on Prada’s spring collection, buying every piece shown to him. The khaki shorts, T-shirts, and work boots he wore in the field were never going to find their way back into his wardrobe again. He liked color and style, something he didn’t know he liked until he’d done without it.

He took the stairs back down to his office located to the right of the front doors. He chose an ultra-cool design and spent the most money on the walls of his office. They were newly synthesized sound and bullet proof smart glass panels. They darkened with
a simple touch of the remote control. He loved the look of them and would press the buttons only to watch them darken during the long boring hours of watching the construction men work. The glass panels, along with his security staff, helped make his workplace secure. His office turned out to be his own little panic room, right there in the front of the building.
How cool is that?

He took a seat behind his chrome plated desk and booted up his
laptop. He flipped on CNN by remote control, but his gaze was drawn to the street. The rain had come to an end and the morning barely began to make its presence known. The outside windows in his office were the same glass panels, but the panels opened to the street for those times Gage felt trapped. It was one of the only drawbacks to returning to the real world. He loved wide open spaces, for the breeze to blow across his skin as he worked.

He released the security on the window beside him and opened it to let the fresh smell of rain fill his office. The breeze this morning blew crisp and a little chilly. The rain must have blown in a small cold front as it drove through this morning. Chicago in May could go either way
weather-wise and you never really knew what to expect or how to dress for it.

The only other
drawback he found to retiring lay in the photo frames now scattered across his desk. All of his family stared back at him. His mother had brought these photos by yesterday to help remind Gage he needed to spend more time with them. One of the pictures sitting in front of all the others must have been more of a dig than a reminder. His entire family stood in front of the building which housed their family-owned business. He was the only one not there to stand in the photo.

The Keurig sat strategically close to his desk, within easy reach
, and he leaned over, clicking the button on. Within seconds the faint rich smells of coffee filled the room, dominating the earlier scent of rain. With an effort, he forced his mind off his family and back to the schedule lying on his desk. From now until the grand opening his schedule looked packed with appointments, meetings, and contractors. The laptop went through its motions and finally dinged to let Gage know it waited for him.

He pulled up
his email and market reports, hating them both with a passion. Throughout the years, he pretended to be electronically dumb merely to avoid replying to the many messages and reports sent his way. Today turned out better than expected, every email in his inbox dealt with his last investigative report. He gave a big smile at the screen. This investigation held every bit of his interest, more than anything else these days. After six long years in the making, at a cost of several hundreds of thousands of his own personal dollars, it really looked to be coming to an end. Gage footed the entire bill and as the story grew, he knew this would be the pinnacle of his career.

In the beginning it was all about the hunch and then over the years as the pieces fit together, he knew, he needed to end on this story. It became a
go-out-on-top-in-a-blaze-of-glory kind of deal, because he definitely didn’t see it getting any better than this from a news reporter’s stand point. Some of his top employees knew portions of the story, but no one knew the whole thing. Gage did all his own videotaping and photo work. He never left it to anyone else, because that was where the story always came from. The thousands and thousands of photos taken were reviewed over and over again until the pieces came together and the interview questions were formed.

Gage sifted through the messages in the inbox until he found his
director of security’s latest email. He pulled it up and launched the latest video on his subject. They were in surveillance mode now. The target found and watched, twenty-four/seven. A smile crossed his lips at the images he saw. Regular plastic surgery over the last couple of years, small nips and tucks here and there with ever changing hair and eye color, had made it a challenge, but they’d finally made a positive ID. Now they were fully in undercover mode and infiltrating the area.

As Gage sat there watching, his palms itched to be on site doing this work himself, but he
’d become too famous, too recognizable; forced to sit on the sidelines, he watched from a distance. It killed him, but nothing was worth the risk of getting recognized while undercover and blowing the entire operation.

Even not being there, Gage made sure he still held all the control. He watched every detail closely, calling the shots from this laptop. He
viewed the videos and photos over and over again, exactly like he did while in the field, piecing it all together. With a little more patience, he would be moving in, blowing the doors off this guy and all those supposedly civilized countries paying him to do their dirty work.

After only having the dozen or so alias
es the guy used around the world, Gage recently stumbled on his birth name, Ahmed Abdulla. Abdulla was a professional and his attacks weren’t about any religion or political view; it was only about the money. Once hired, Abdulla could successfully move from country to country, changing his look, his speech, and his alias while creating a new documented past, then infiltrating the different militaries across the world. He could strategically place himself where he needed to be to get the job done while always falling just under the radar.

Only on a stroke of luck
had Gage even caught on to Abdulla. It came in the way of a missing person from one photo frame to the next, and now, after all this time, Gage had this guy within his grasp. Constant surveillance would track Abdulla’s every move, but they would have to stay completely hidden until Gage was ready for the next phase.

If everything played out
as planned, they would expose Abdulla by airing this report sometime in the next ten days to two weeks. And Gage would be all up in the middle of it, bringing Abdulla’s name and face for the entire world to see. The United States military would be scrambling, but he would give them enough lead to get them in the general area before he broke the story. If he told them too much, they would take the story, pulling him out of it, and no way would he let it happen.

Gage kept his eyes trained on the monitor
while leaning over to take the coffee cup from the maker, and then took a long drink. The hot brew burned its way down, giving him the jolt he needed. After watching the video in its entirety, he sent a few quick emails and made a few notes, moving the video to the corner of his screen in order to watch it all again later.

The sun lifted fully and he heard a truck pull to the front of the building. It was already seven in the morning. The crews were arriving, ready to start their day. Gage checked his calendar again, the new electrical contractor would be here around nine and he palmed his phone to alert him of the time. He couldn
’t afford any more mess ups and changed a couple of things on his schedule to be available when the new electrical contractor got there.

Chapter 3

The Coop Electric double cab pick-up truck pulled to the front curb of The Art Gallery, the name pretty much said it all. From what he
’d been told of the area, he now sat parked in the newest, most trendy part of Chicago. It wasn’t all that long ago this area of town was considered straight up hood, but over the last few years the city of Chicago dumped tons of money and tax incentives in to help revitalize its south side. From what he could see, it worked. All along the walkway, bistros and cafes were littered in between several vintage book stores and coffee shops. He saw several high-end, ultra trendy retailers were also opening up shops, changing the whole feel of the area.

The drive wasn
’t too many miles away from his house, yet a world of difference existed between here and his little neighborhood in Overland Park. Today’s traffic hadn’t absolutely sucked, and he’d gotten to the job site a little bit early. Trent tugged the rearview mirror down and worked his fingers through his hair, making sure it all lay down close to the way it should. Then he checked his teeth for anything lingering from breakfast. He realized then he forgot to go back inside and shave after the kids woke up this morning.
Damn!
The need to give a good first impression had him quickly weighing his options.

Ten minutes early didn
’t leave enough time to run to the local drug store and do a quick shave, but this was a new general contractor to him, one he’d been trying to get his foot in the door with for years…
Shit!
Trent looked hard at himself. He didn’t have much more than a five o’clock shadow and many guys purposefully wore their beards like this…
But dammit
!

He
’d finally won a bid with Layne Construction, and he wasn’t stupid, this would be the trial job to judge his performance. Nothing too big, but fast-paced and they’d be watching him closely. If he could pull this off while doing a good job, it might work his little electrical contracting business fully in the door of Layne and turn the tide for his baby, Coop Electric. It might even get him out from underneath doing so much of the day to day electrical work himself and would definitely help keep the receivables steadily coming in.

One last look in the mirror brought him to the decision to ignore the stubble on his face. Being on time should be more important than what he wore on his face
…
Right?
Forcing it all from his mind, Trent jumped from the truck and took a look down, making sure his short sleeve button down stayed tucked into his new blue jeans and everything lay just right with his clothes. He grabbed his clipboard and phone as well as the estimate he’d given when bidding this job before giving a kick with his foot to slam the truck door. He pivoted seamlessly, turning in a full circle to open the truck door again. He grabbed a pencil and tape measure before making his way to what he thought might be the contractor and a very nicely dressed woman standing at the front doors. They looked to be in a deep conversation.

“
Hi, excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Trent Cooper, Coop Electric. Are you Roger McCall?” he asked and fumbled with the items in his hands, trying to free his right hand for a quick shake.

“
I am. Nice to meet you, Trent,” Roger said, never fully taking his eyes off the woman in front of him, but stuck out his hand and shook Trent’s.

“
It’s nice to meet you.” After releasing Roger’s hand, he automatically made the same offer to the woman standing beside McCall when he didn’t appear willing to make the introductions.

“
I’m Jacquelyn Ballinger, The Art Gallery’s new curator,” she said, shaking his hand. Trent could see he’d interrupted a moment. He could tell from the look on her face it wasn’t necessarily a good moment. Turning back to McCall, Trent held in his laugh. McCall’s expression screamed hell bent on finishing the private conversation. The poor man wasn’t picking up on a single clue the lady laid down that she wasn’t interested in continuing whatever it was they’d been discussing.

“
Ms. Ballinger, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t want to interrupt. I’m just here to do the walk-through before we begin work Thursday morning. Sir, I can get started and report back on anything I see different than the specs,” Trent said, moving around them to the front door.

“
Yeah, that would be great. We have a couple of minor changes to Jacquelyn’s, I mean Ms. Ballinger’s, office. I’ll get with you in a few minutes, Cooper.” The project manager looked like any typical foreman for this area. Older, receding hairline, hard Northern accent, and a beer belly requiring suspenders to keep his pants up, but it sure looked like he tried hard to suck that gut in to impress the lady.