She picks up her phone again. This time she taps out a response.
Charlie Ross
Don’t care about the pay.
Declan Davidson
Good answer.
Charlie leans forwards to make eye contact with me again. Ana hasn’t noticed yet. Then Charlie pointedly puts her phone face down on her lap. Conversation over.
Oliver steps to the middle of the crowd and delivers a fifteen-minute company-wide update. The new race in Finland. Our annual championship event on the horizon. “A delegation from our office will be going to the World Games in Rome – keep an eye out for an email from Charlie.” Our colleagues all look her way. She gives a sheepish grin and nervous wave.
Oliver dismisses us and Shauna from HR chimes in that there are complimentary bagels, donuts, and coffee in the break room. Our hardworking and hungry coworkers jump up and make for the elevators. Ana and Charlie stand up together.
“Charlie?” I call out. “Can you stay back for a second?”
Charlie looks annoyed. Ana appears confused but gives a small wave and heads upstairs with the rest of the staff.
“Let’s go for a walk to Caffeine Corner,” I suggest. It’s a little off-brand café that serves most of this office park, about a five-minute walk on the other side of the complex. “My treat,” I add. “We need to talk.”
To her credit, Charlie may very well be as stubborn as I am. “I’m too keyed up for caffeine.”
“Tea then.”
“I’m allergic,” she counters.
“Will you just go for a walk with me?” I am exasperated and running on too little sleep for these games.
Her stoic expression breaks and a small smile sneaks up her lips. It’s a slight shift, a playful adjustment in her demeanor. It feels like a win, a small victory. I can’t help but mirror it and my own lips curl too.
“Let’s go,” Charlie says and leads the way.
The morning sun has relented behind a dense arrangement of clouds, threatening to let loose their cargo of rain any moment. We’re halfway to Caffeine Corner when Charlie stops on the sidewalk. I pause and face her.
“Who was shooting at us and why?” she asks. I guess she’s finally fed up with not knowing.
“Can we get coffee first?” I ask. My head is starting to ache; my muscles are sore. I am in need of serious caffeine.
“I thought that was a ruse so we could talk without anyone overhearing?” Charlie is much sharper than I ever gave her credit for. I’m suddenly realizing that all of my first impressions of her were wrong. Well, except that she is beautiful, that is undeniable. Even sweating in the midday sun that first day, she was a stunner.
“It was,” I confirm. “But I’m also exhausted. I was on a stakeout all weekend,” I confess.
“Were you tracking the guy who shot at us?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her. “I was making sure he didn’t show up at your place.” She takes a half-step back and wraps her arms round her body again. Charlie’s blue eyes dart to the ground, her face sober. Her lips disappear, as she pulls them into a tight line, biting back some comment.
I thought it would have been obvious that whoever shot at us would have tried to come back. It seems Charlie hadn’t considered this at all. I didn’t mean to scare her, but maybe a little fear will help her understand how serious this is. How committed the Order is to their precious plans.
I continue walking and she follows in silence.
I have a hot coffee in hand. Charlie finally caved and ordered a decaf iced latte. We find a seat in the back of this small café. It’s empty, except for a few of the staff changing out the morning breakfast for their lunch set. No one else is here, and with the clouds pouring their deluge outside, I don’t expect anyone will arrive any time soon.
“Start talking,” Charlie commands before taking a sip of her drink.
“What Oliver said was true. Endurance events are where these nefarious plans can often go down. In the aide tents, jogging alongside each other on course. No wires, no eavesdroppers, just open road and an alibi. ‘I was running an ultra-marathon.’” I watch Charlie’s reaction, how she fidgets. Her worldview of happy finish lines tarnished. “These heads of crime syndicates, arms dealers, they aren’t lazy thugs sitting around. While they may not be the muscle of their group, they want to show how strong they are. How powerful they are.Andhow rich they are. How better to do that than rolling up to a cycling event with a ten-thousand-dollar bike, another couple thousand for the bike fit. Show off their muscles, flex on their splits, intimidate their potential buyers into giving them asking price. International sports events are the best opportunity for sharing intelligence, brokering peace, and occasionally running down a bad guy or three.”
Charlie considers my words. “So why are they after you? Shooting at you?”
