Part 3 - Brian's Story

Brian's Story - Part 3

3-July-2002

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the remains in the trash can and realizing she still had to attend the dinner even if she didn't have the required package, Becky formulated a plan. Her first thought had been to go into the restaurant and take the gentleman sent to meet her hostage at gunpoint. She had rather liked the idea, pulling a gun from her garter belt and catching the man completely off guard, blasting her way out if any others had been sent to assure the delivery. However, that sort of thing was only feasible in those action movies where the heroine has no training, but is driven by love and the support of the ruggedly handsome hero. Or those big-busted superwomen based on video games that geeks are prone to fantasize over.
    She couldn't reduce herself to crying, pleading and begging because the package had been destroyed. If she admitted that, she lost her only bargaining chip in finding her father, and that was unacceptable.
    After a long minute of staring at the charred remains of her hopes in the trashcan, Becky decided to go empty handed. Well, she'd still take her gun, of course.
    Arriving at the restaurant a few minutes late, she quickly composed herself in the foyer, and entered with all the splendor and confidence she could muster. As the maitre d' escorted her through the restaurant to the back patio she was delighted to see that her appearance was turning heads. Clutching her small purse in both her hands, she graced the gentleman in his white formal suit with a kiss on the cheek before she gracefully took her seat.
    Becky took advantage of the few seconds it took for the minion to compose himself after the unexpected greeting to take in her surroundings. Shifting in her chair to adjust her provocatively short dress, she counted at least three likely candidates that were there in support of the gentleman seated across from her.
    Knowing the actual topic they had both come to discuss would not be broached by the dark-haired, dark eyed "date" until part of the way through the main course, Becky took advantage of the cocktail, soup and salad courses to create the image she wanted. Leaning over to brush his hand here; laughing earnestly, but not annoyingly, at his witticisms; looking shyly up at him with a seductive smile; and looking for all the world as part of a true couple meeting for a romantic dinner on the Nile. Becky was delighted when Matthew, as he whispered in her ear he was to be called, had picked up on her show for the remainder of the world, and joined in with his own romantic touches.
    As the salad was being cleared away, and sorbet left to clean the palate, Becky took the initiative to bring up business. Leaning over to catch smooth, well-groomed hands in her own, she met his eyes. Smiling, she said "I like you. I can see why such a charming man was sent on such important business, but I have a confession to make."
    Matthew clasped her hands between his own and leaned closer, gazing into her eyes. The only indication of his surprise was his right eyebrow crept up slightly, encouraging her to go on with her confession.
    Becky half-stood, leaned closer still, placing Matthew's head between her and the rest of the restaurant patrons, and whispered in his ear "I don't have the package you were sent to pick up." She brought her face directly in front of his, graced him with a small smile of apology, and kissed him.
    As she moved to resume her seat, she found his hand had taken gentle hold on the back of her head, preventing her from doing so. Stroking her hair in a loving manner, he whispered quickly while his arm blocked their mouths "What are you trying to pull?" and pulled her in for another, more passionate kiss.
    Finding herself suddenly released from his hold, Becky slowly sat down, retrieved her small purse from the floor, and set it on the table with a small smile. Pulling our her compact, she made a show of realizing her lipstick was smudged, and as she reapplied it, she indicated to her small purse. "Couldn't fit it in THERE, could I?" she asked innocently. Replacing her makeup into the small bag, she made sure he followed her motion with his eyes so he could evaluate the size of her purse. He looked up at her suspiciously as she returned her purse to its spot on the floor between her feet. Sitting up and readjusting her jewel green wrap, she said with a smile "It's the only bag I had that matched my new scarf."
    At that point, the main course arrived. They ate in silence for a while, still sharing loving gazing, and caresses, though Becky could tell Matthew was less at ease now. About halfway through the meal, he set down his silverware, and leaned forward, a serious look on his face. "You know I can't give you any information about your father until I receive what I came to get, right?"
    Becky felt the tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, she nodded. "You also know that I have to ask for it now." Nodding again, Becky opened her hands wide to show they were empty, indicating that she obviously didn't have what he was looking for. A tear slid down her cheek.
    Leaning closer, she braved a smile, and clasped Matthew's hand in her own, pressing it to her cheek. He obligingly wiped the run-away tear from her face. Not meeting his eyes, allowing another tear to fall, she desperately whispered, "It's not my fault. It hasn't been delivered yet." She looked into his dark, deep eyes, pleading with her own watery ones to understand. "It was supposed to arrive today, but with all the trouble with the post lately, it must have been delayed."
    Taking back his hand, Matthew removed the napkin from his lap and set it on the table. Becky realized she had to act quickly, her ruse obviously not convincing enough. If he left now, she feared she wouldn't see him again, wouldn't find out about her father. "You know where my hotel is, don't you?" she asked in her best emotion filled whisper.
    He slowed, nodded, but did not settle back in. "So they probably do, too" she surmised, giving a slight indication to the remainder of the restaurant patrons in general. He nodded again, realizing that she knew they were not alone. "Can I convince you to stay long enough to explain?"
    Matthew rose from his place, swept over to her side of the table, and leaned right next to her. His breath warm on her face he sighed, "Have to check in now," graced her cheek with a kiss, and headed in the direction of the men's room. Becky leaned over to fetch a handkerchief from her purse, and was not surprised when one of the gentlemen she had picked out earlier also excused himself.
    The next few minutes Becky lived in agony, hoping that her plea had not fallen on deaf ears, knowing that it most likely had. She had forced herself to eat a few more bites of her meal, and to get her heartbeat to a manageable pace. The man known as Matthew surprised Becky, scooping up her hand as he passed, planting a gentle kiss on it before he resumed his seat. He finished the meal with cordial chitchat, pointedly not bringing up Becky's father, or the lack of package. She suspected he was trying to make her more uncomfortable than she already felt.
    Finally, over desert, he leaned back and said "I think we should go for a stroll after this. It is such a lovely evening after all, and I would be honored to have such a lovely woman at my side." The smile he gave her made it clear that refusing his offer was not an option.
    As they left, Matthew pulled out Becky's chair, and held out his arm. Once her hand looped through, he clasped his hand over hers. Out on the main streets in Cairo, they strolled in silence for a few moments, and Becky could almost pretend that she was just a young woman enjoying a pleasant evening stroll with a loved one. Giving in to impulse, she rested her head on his upper arm, noticing not for the first time how much taller, and stronger, he was than her.
    Passing the street where the young boy had given Becky the scarf that she now clutched to her, Matthew abruptly stopped and turned to face her. She noticed his eyes glanced down the street behind her before they settled on her face. He studied her for a moment, then pulled her chin closer, closing the distance for another kiss. Keeping her chin cradled in his hand, he pulled back a few inches and whispered "Not all of those at the restaurant were ours. Not sure we've shaken them yet, so we'd better keep walking." He kissed her again, smiled, and placing his arm around her shoulders, guided her on down the street.
    Becky leaned her head on Matthew's shoulder, a sudden chill overcoming her in the warm night. Not all theirs. Who else was watching the transaction, and why? Did they notice that anything went wrong, that she hadn't delivered the package? Would this affect her father's safety? She shivered as the last thought played across her mind. Matthew protectively drew her closer to him, letting his body warm and comfort her.
    Twenty minutes and several leisurely directed street turns later, Matthew turned to face Becky, once again assessing the situation. Her mind on her father, Becky preempted the kiss she knew was coming, and hugged Matthew's strong body, allowing him more time to take in their surroundings. Gently pushing her away from him, he beamed a genuine smile at her. She mouthed up at him "they're gone?" He nodded, and kissed her once more.
    "I think they got bored of following us around, maybe even started second guessing that we were who they thought we were." She could tell he was proud of his work in this situation, indicating he must be relatively new to the job, but felt it was not her place to compliment him on a job well done when technically he still had her in a semi-hostage situation.
    "We're heading to check your mail now, see if anything has been delivered since earlier today. Those are my orders." He took her hand, a little less than gently this time, and started in a beeline for the Western Union. Becky stubbornly sunk her feet in, forcing Matthew to slow down to avoid wrenching her arm out of it's socket. He looked at her, and she flashed him her biggest, most inviting smile. "Let's take our time. I enjoy your company. Besides, if we take longer, it'll afford more time for late deliveries." She slipped her arm around his waist, resuming her spot against his shoulder, and restarted their leisurely pace.
    As they walked, Becky let the tears start up again, and a brief sob escaped her lips. Matthew slowed down, and turned her chin up to face him, a look of concern on his face. "What if... what if there isn't anything there?" Becky could hear the real fear she felt enter her voice, "what's going to happen to my father?" Sympathy flashed across his face, and Matthew cradled her head back against his chest as they finished the walk back to the Western Union.
    Of course there was nothing there. Upon confirming this with the clerk, she gasped back a sob, and rushed for the door. Matthew caught up with her just outside, and rather than saying anything, put his arm back over her shoulder, and started walking.
    A few blocks from the hotel where she was staying, Becky slowed down, and turned to face the handsome gentleman across from her. "I don't want to be alone" she whispered, pleading with her eyes, "not tonight."
    "I can't come in with you. You're smart enough to know that. I'd be seen." Yet there was sympathy, mixed with longing, in his eyes that reflected the longing and desperation in hers.
    "I know," she said, and burrowed her forehead into his chest, "I just..."
    Putting his arms around her, Matthew leaned in, kissed her hair, and mentioned the name of a hotel five blocks away from her own, and the last name that a room reservation would be under. She looked up, gratitude filling her watery eyes, and left him to go to her hotel room.
    Slipping out of her hotel was not a problem, as she kept irregular hours, and sometimes did not return for a few days as she visited acquaintances and explored Egypt. Another night away would not arouse suspicion. She packed her overnight bag, and headed for the train station in the northern part of the city, taking a winding route. Having changed in the bathroom of a train, she got off at the station in the south of the city, and caught a cab to the specified hotel.
    Seducing Matthew was easy enough, playing up the scared, helpless girl act; she let him believe she sought comfort in the arms of a big, strong, and admittedly handsome, man. As he slept, she rolled and moaned, as if dreams were disturbing her. He had woken up, and assuming she was asleep, murmured soothingly, trying to get her to calm down. "Don't worry beautiful. Your father is safe. (moan) Shhh, Tilley won't hurt him over this, I promise. Your father is safe. Shhh." She allowed the gently rocking of Matthew's arms to really lull her into sleep.
    In the morning he left early, saying he had to make his official report, and she'd understand that he couldn't tell her anything about her father until she delivered the package, right? Another meeting time, probably for a few days later, would be sent to her hotel.
    With a heavy sigh, Becky fell back onto the unmade bed weak-kneed with relief. She had bought herself some time. Not much, but some. As she finished packing her things and headed back to her own hotel, she hummed under her breath, relishing the other treasure her efforts had won her. A name. Tilley. Jackpot.