Collaborative mystery? action?

There I was again, laying on the dirty, hard box of material that those folk behind the counters of those 'L' shaped, two story motels, sometimes refer to as a bed. lost in the swirls of familiar hazy orange neon shadows, that ebbed liked tides across the popcorn cieling.

I stood for the window. "Those things are going to kill you", I recall my wife saying once, or a hundred times. She was so happy when I quit—those were the days. There was no guilt as I opened that small box that fit so well in my hand. I folded back the crisp, aluminum covering, and withdrew the very center cigarette. For a moment I thought of reinserting the cigarette upside down, you know, for luck, but shrugged off the childish thought and brought the butt to my lips. "Sweetheart", I said aloud. "If you'd seen what I'd seen today, you would light this for me."

I cracked the window, smoked, and watched a police officer across the street, place a handcuffed suspect into the rear of his squad car. The black cat that had stared me down yesterday on the stoop was there, below, watching from the tops of the cars. "That cat sure gave me the creeps" I thought, and caught a glimpse of it darting across the parking lot. Undoubtedly after some rodent meal.

My cellphone rang from the bathroom. I was expecting a very important contact and turned to run and grab it. Immediately after I turned, the door to the hallway blew off it's hinges, smashing squarely into me, knocking me to the floor.

"Seth...Seth!!"

I swear, I would leave this woman if I wasn't so damn in love with her. Fourteen years. Fourteen years I've loved her. I've known her fourteen years and a day. The first day I hated her. Hated her as the sun hates a cloud. It was the kind of hate that burns the soul, and can be felt in ones extremities. The wrong she committed against me was as vicous as the devil himself. Then it happened, and the rest is history.

"Everyone of those takes an hour off your life you know?"

An hour? Who came up with an hour? The woman is incessant about the smoking. "It takes five seconds for you to tell me that each time I come out her. Imagine what you could do with the days you've wasted educating me on the effects of smoking." With that the door slid shut with a modest bang and I heard the latch lower into place, securely leaving me on the balcony, seven stories up, with some leftover rain water that had puddled in the center of the chair, for me to drink.
I really don't think I could love this woman any more. I leaned over the railing to get a good view of the street below; flipped on my cellphone, and dialed (#)(3). "Hi Louis, it's Seth..Good, good thanks..a dozen is fine Louis..yep, 10 minutes?..great, see you then."

I waited impatiently on a kitchen chair for the man. Louis was always loyal and trustworthy, I was sure that he would bring me the goods. I mean, I paid him well enough for what they're worth, besides, he's not the type to change deals at the last minute. My cigarette was dying as the flames approached the filter. Still, no sign of Louis. What could have been taking him so long? I started to pace back and forth, even had to tell the cleaner lady to skip my room out of a pretext that I was awaiting a woman for some daytime romance. She shouldn't know about my private deals, the least anyone knows the better. I waited another half hour, and finished 3 cigarettes. It was like the good old times, when I was young. I used to smoke 2 packs a day, it was ruining my lungs. I eventually quit, only to start up again, because of this stinking job. I should have never even bothered to be involved. My thought came to a halt with a knok on the door. I looked through the small hole, it was Louis, he had the pakage.

Louis stood there, stringy hair to his shoulders; receding at the temples. Wire-rimmed glasses left a permanent dent on the bridge of his nose, always speckled with grease and dandruff, I wondered how he found the resignation to ignore them. His pallid complexion twitched with obvious strain. I opened the door.
"Jesus, what happened here?" Louis stammered when he saw the splintered door in the hallway. "You look like hell. I could smell the cordite on the elevator, you've got to get out of here."
"That's right mama, tell me something I don't already know," I answered. He handed me the package. It was heavier than I expected. Inside were two sealed bubble envelopes.
"I need your car." I stated with over-confidence, hoping to avoid any protest.
"Here, take the keys. I drove the old souped up camaro, had a feeling you might ask me that." Louis's watery taupe eyes peered at me through his wire-rimmed glasses. "You need some cash?"
"You join the church or something?" I asked, shocked at his sudden generosity.
"Nah, I just know when I'm looking at a dead man." He shot back. "Does Kath know what's going on?"
"No, and I want to keep it that way," I answered.

Why did Louis have to mention Kath? I knew I would need her assistance. I always need her assistance, but this time, I'll callt her when I'm ready for her. She'll be ready, she always is.

Louis' Camaro was the same as I remembered it. '67 I think he said. It was a stunning metalic blue, with a custom, three shade Z-28 striping of red, orange and white. It was fast. Fast like I like cars. "Thanks Louis" I said to the radio, looking for a good oldies station. I had to get to the bank first thing. It's been awhile since I've seen what's in the bank, let alone hold them again. I promised. I promised her, I promised myself; though I can't deny it. Part of me wants to hold them again. Afterall, they once defined who I was.

My phone which I had laid on the console began to vibrate; "Seth." I answered on speaker phone. "Mr. Rickson? Mr. Seth Rickson?" The man on the other end sounded somewhat hurried, and somewhat younger. "Yes, I am Seth Rickson" I replied. "My name is Ryan Pichow. I am concierge of The Grand Hotel in Stockholm. Ms. Beran has asked that I contact you, because she is away on most urgent business. She gives her apologies for the impersonalness of the decision, but insists I tell you that she had no other choice." "Kath?" I asked myself. "Could she know what's going on already? Is it possible?" No, it had to be something else, had to be. "Mr. Rickson are you still there?" Ryan asked over the lobby phone, as he looked at the two men sitting on the couch, wearing Fioravanti suits, keenly listening to what he was saying. Ryan Pichow was a short, thin man. His hair was short and thin, his patience was short and thin, and his courage was short and thin. "Mr. Rickson?" He asked again politely. "Are you still on the line?"

"Yes, Mr. Pichow?..What is the message that you carry?" I asked straight to the point. "Mr. Rickson, Ms. Beran wishes you to come to Stockholm right away. She has arranged a flight for you from Eppley to La Guardia, and then onto Stockholm. The flight leaves tonight at 02:00 GMT. You will arrive in Stockholm Tomorrow evening, 6:30 local time. A car will be waiting for you. Mr. Rickson, this is the only information that I have. If I may jump forward a bit sir, I've been asked to give you reason to believe the credibility of the message. Ms. Beran said to say to you, 'Ring around the roses, pocket of Posey's. Ashes, Ashes we go undergound."
I had to pause for a moment. It was a long time since Dulce. I responded to Mr. Pichow confidently and eagerly, "Mr. Pichow, please tell Ms. Beran that I will see her tomorrow evening..and please aske her to wear 'the' dress. She will know what you mean. Good day to you Mr. Pichow." "You as.." I hung up the phone and placed it back onto the console.

I enjoy Stockholm. I was stationed there for a couple of years at the beginning of my career. Researching military files, learning the trade. I met Kath at the Gathering. We hit it off right away. Something about our personalities just fit well. Later we found that our skills complimented each other as well, and logically we became a Katet. Katet is a Stephen King term I am told, and the Group adopted it for team designations. I like it personally, and Katherin and I were one hell of a Katet. It wasn't until Dulce, that Katherine preferred to be addressed as Kath. The only thing she has ever told me about it, is that Katherine died that day. I've never pushed it. We had done a few Outings together as a Katet after Dulce, but they few and far between. Eventually we came to where we are now. Hearing about each other in the annual Group Gathering. The Group's global membership has risen substantially in the last decade, so it was found to be necessary to hold to Gatherings. One in the Western and one in the eastern hemispheres. Kath and I have'nt attended the same Gathering for the last 4 years. I need her here in Omaha, but she needs me in Stockholm for now. I can delay my work a little longer. Now, I need to return this car to Louis, and getting ready for my flight.

The flight into Arlanda was pleasant enough. Some turbulence over the Atlantic a couple times, and a diversion around a storm. A pretty big storm actually. Big for February. Back in '05, early Janurary, on a trip to europe, me and my wife got caught in a tropical storm. It was a real rough flight. Oxygen masks came down in a panicked manner, children were crying, and a couple people were yelling. The plane kept jolting around severely, giving everyone a scare to remember. It lasted a few minutes but the good pilots turned away and led us out of the terrible winds. Zeta I think the name of that storm was.

I retrieved my luggage from the carousel, which wasn't much. One large bag and a duffle. The laptop I carry with me most of time, fit nicely in the large bag, and I eagerly rid myself of it's burden. There was quite a variety of folk standing around the carousel, waiting for their bags. A larger diversity than what I expected, for it was definitely greater than before. I lost myself in a family of Russians quarreling about something, then decided to hurry outdoors to find a conspicuous place to smoke. On my way out, I was approached by a man and a woman who were coming down the stairs that led to the first class lounges. "Mr. Rickson I presume?" The lady said firmly, yet delicately and feminin. She reached her hand out to shake my hand and I obliged while smiling and replying, "Yes, you've found me, my invisible cape must not be working properly, for I was on a beeline for a nice outdoor spot to have a smoke." The fair lady smiled, relaxed a little and responded, "No need Mr. Rickson, there is an ashtray in the car. Mr. Renault here, will be driving you and I to see Ms. Beran. She is shooting pidgeons with Mr. Anders Björck, Over governer of Uppsala, and will meet us for dinner at Spisa Hos Helena. Come, I'll introduce myself on the way."

We arrived as the sun was going down. It was close to eight o'lcock, and Spisa was bustling as I remember. Lights around the buildings and in the buildings were turning on. By the time the restaurant was in view, and we entered, it was almost entirely dark, and the city was bright with artificial light. Ms. Forinasse, as I found out was the gracious host whom of which has accompanied me thus far, apparently has worked very close with Kath, and has so, for the last 4 years. Ms. Forinasse informs me that she has no ties to the Group. Has never had any relations with them, nor anyone associated with them. She left the details for Kath apparently, as a few minutes into the ride, Ms. Forinasse felt the necessity to take care of business on her laptop. I didn't mind really, it had been four years since I'd seen Kath and I really just wanted to relax from the flight and reflect on some history, with a little playful guesswork on what she may look like. After our short conversation, I got the impression Ms. Forinasse was a woman not to be played with. I don't recall her making any slight errors in our conversation. She spoke in a pleasant, but slightly passive/aggressive manner. She wore all black, which complimented her dark, shiny black hair I guess, and everything was tight. A professional look, but at the extreme end of the conservative scale. The collar was a couple inches high and went straight up the neck. The buttons, which were the only non-black item in her wardrobe choice, were a mid-size, dull ivory, that formed a line straight up her mid-section to the middle of her neck. The only visible skin was her hands, and face. In certain company, I may share the intimidation I felt with her.

"To a tee..to a tee!" Exclaimed the hostess excitedly as she came running over from across the room, smiling largely with a skip in her step. "Seth, Kath is in here. Please follow me" The cute little hostess with the large dirty blonde curls and colorful ribbons, said to me as she turned to take the lead. With a quick inside look to Ms. Foranasse, she said in a semi-whisper, "Just like she said. Exactly! Hehe." Ms. Foranasse gave an aknowledging nod and raise of the eyebrows complimented with a slight smile, and we followed the little girl into the dining room.

"Ring runt omkring stegarna , ficka full av position , aska , aska , vi all gå under jorden" The lone lady in the booth shouted as she stood and walked over to me. she didn't look all that different from what I remember. Tall, slender build. Straight, light brown hair, parted just off center. Tonight she wore it long, down to her midsection. I remember it being chin length last I saw her, but the long hair by no means diminishes her natural beauty. She wore a traditional business suit, and as far I could see, no jewelry. But, something in her walk was unusual. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was there. It has been four years, maybe the anticipation of renewing my work with Group has given my senses a false restart. "Ja , ring runt omkring stegarna. Min raring vän , den har blitt alltför lång." I said outstrecthing my arms with full confindence she would welcome the embrace. "It has been too long Seth, you look wonderful." Kath embraced me as expected. She smelled like a Poinsettia. Christmas was months ago, and I can't recall the last Poinsettia plant i saw in Stockholm.—I really should have gotten Dominguez a gift. He looked so..so..hurt when I told him I didn't have anything to reciprocate. "Sit down my dear," Kath said as warm as I've ever heard. "I just ordered firsts, you must be hungry after your hurried flight. I'm terribly sorry about the haste, and the concierge's phone call. It was important that you got here immediately, and I just couldn't contact you myself. I'll explain everything later, but for now, lets eat and catch up on the last four years" "Of course, Kath," I replied with an attempt to sound as warm as I felt. "Its terribly good to see you again." The waiter came to the table with an order of Grillat Scampispett; offered a bottle of Pinot Grigio, I obliged and we began where we left off. I started on about her dress.

[edit on 9-12-2006 by nextguyinline]

"Your check, Ms. Beran." The friendly, helpful waiter reminded Kath as he set his pad with the bill on the table. "I hope your experience was pleasurable as always." "Of course Rene, your service is what brings me here week after week." Kath sincerely reported. "After Roffe died, the penne just hasn't bee the same." "Ahh, for sure Ms. Beran," Rene agreed, "Roffe is missed heartily around here." I heard he died with a smile on his face. If only we all, eh?" "Yes, Rene, If only we all" Kath replied with a slightly intoxicated somber. "I'll be right back Ms. Beran" Rene stated, and turned to take the credit card Kath handed him, to the machine in the waiter station. "Don't worry about the check Seth." Kath said to me, her eyes focused sharply on mine. "I owe you much more. Seth, I have a room ready for you in my home, in Lilla Vartan. If you prefer, I can arrange a room at the Grand." "No Kath, your home would be delightful." I said slightly slurred. "Wonderful, because you know, I wouldn't of had it any other way." Kath remarked as she leaned back in her chair and gave me a grin. I chuckled and replied, "I imagine that I knew that."

"Melony." Kath was addressing Ms. Forinasse. Thank you for looking after Mr. Rickson this evening. Melony Forinasse replied, "Anything for you honey. Besides, it was a pleasure to finally meet the other half or your Katet." Melony Forinasse looked over to me and said, "Quite refreshing company I must say, Mr. Rickson." With that Melony placed her napkin on her plate and stood for the door. Gave a little slight bowing gesture of departing, said some final words to Kath, and disappeared behind the large patronage inside the Spisa.

Calmly and elegantly collecting her belongings, Kath said to me, "The wine is gone Seth, the candle is about to die. Let's get on home. I owe you an explanation for your journey. I'm very happy you came Seth. Come, let's take my car."

Kath's home revealed a level of wealth higher than her suit revealed. The drive from the road to the house, was at best guess, three-hundred yards. The house was surrounded by a large, wood deck that seemed to wrap itself around the entire property. I couldn't see any rails or railings, and it was only two steps high. The house itself appeared to be made entirely of glass windows. I couldn't see the sides of the house, but the front two stories were glass, that apexed above the center. Kath stopped the car right in front. Turned off the ingition, remarked about the bottle of Cakebread in her cellar, that we discussed earlier, and proceded to exit the car and enter the home.

I was a little shocked by what was in the house after we made our way through the front door, and Kath switched on the light. Rather, what was not in the house. It was absolutely bare. The natural wood floor that appeared to run throughout the first floor, with the absolute lack of wall furnishings, made our voices, and footsteps echo; giving the room a very hollow feel. The walls were stark white. The ceiling was a labrynth of unfinished wood beams, and for the first time, I could see that the rear of the house was mostly windows as well. "I bet cleaning in here is quite the hassle, huh?" Is all I could come up with. With a laugh Kath replied, "It sure is smartass. I'm rarely here Seth. I inherited the home from a dear friend who took his cancer and left. I've only been in here for the last year or so, and have maybe spent a quarter of those nights here. I've been working really hard. Like I said in the car, the Group has had me running alot of Outings." "Yeah so you mentioned." I said, "How has that been? You like calling the shots? Drawing the board?" "No I don't Seth." Kath replied with a growing, stern look on her face. The conversation has led us to the master bedroom which appeared to be the only room in the house with anything in it.
It was a large bedroom. Large enough to comfortably hold the oversized desk, massive plush couch with matching recliner, and of course, what appeared to be a queen size bed, with no head or foot board. The mattress and boxspring lie flush with the floor. "Working as Lead required meeting with, and building relationships with some higher-ups in the Group you know, Seth" Kath continued. "The work I was asked to do, came directlly from the head of the Group himself. I was required to meet with him on multiple occasions, until the work was done. Seth, you'll be as surprised as I was, when I tell you whom the head of the Group is. His name is Javier Ribeiro. He's a Brazilian national, residing currently in Germany. Seth, you know, what I just told you is dangerous for my well-being right? What more I have to tell you, will be dangerous for yours."

My head started to hurt, I knew where this was going, and I didn't like it. Nausea started to run from my stomac all the way to my head. Before I could hear what she had to say, my body fell stiff on the floor.


I found myself in some sort of room, it was blurry and I couldn't make out much. I heard a voice call my name, it was Kath, but I couldn't see her. The voice came from somewhere beyond the door. I looked around, a weird feeling of recognition came accross my spline, goosebumps, I've been in this room before. It was my sleeping quarters, I was back at Dulce airfoce base. What was I doing here? I went into the bathroom to wash up my face, I looked in the mirror, I was dressed in uniform. What the hell was happenning? I went back into my room, only to see... myself get off the bed and walk towards the hallway. Weird I thought, I decided to follow myself thinking about just what in the hell was happenning to me. God, if I only had smokes on me at that point. The blurryness started to cease, I was able to see more clearly now. As I followed the impersonation of myself, I could but wonder what was happenning to me. Have I finally lost it? This wasn't the first time these weird flashbacks happenned to me, this is the reason I met with Louis a few days ago. I needed my papers and my gun, just in case, at least untill I got to the bottom of all this. The problem with these flashbacks is, I don't remember them happenning, not like this anyways. I saw him walk towards the cafeteria as he shook hands with Kath, I guess this was the first time I met her, weird, I thought I met her differently... I heard her voice again coming from the walls, what was happenning to me?