Jennifer sat on the edge of the window seat in the bedroom looking out at the city below. The lights below were beginning to twinkle as the evening traffic increased. She had always loved Washington DC, the memories of the times she had spent there as a child with her father had always brought her so much joy. Visiting his gallery, walking in the park, just being together. Tonight she longed to be at her family home, just a mere 30 miles away, sitting in front of the fireplace listening to her father's stories, with Jonathan by her side. Laughing and smiling as they always did when they were together. She hoped that there would be many more evenings like that in their future, that they would make many more memories together. Instead, she found herself sitting alone in the dimly lit room, trying to absorb everything that she had learned today and feeling that there was a lot more to come. The last few days had been like living a nightmare, though she found herself unable to wake from the horror. She had excused herself to be alone while Jonathan and Conny were trying to develop a plan to rescue her father. She hoped that by the time they came up with something it wouldn't be too late. She couldn't lose her father, not now, and not like this.
Jonathan quietly entered the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. He looked at his wife, sitting there so still, and knew that somehow he had to make this right for her. He came up behind her, taking a seat next to her, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, drawing her back close to his chest. He kissed her lightly on the neck, just below her ear, and snuggled close to her, breathing in the scent of her hair.
She turned her head to the side, to enable her to look at his handsome face. "Were you and Conny able to come up with any ideas?" she asked, full of hope.
"Actually, it appears we do have a bargaining chip after all. Remember how Claire told us about the last time she and Conny saw each other?"
"Yes, I remember," Jennifer answered, "But what does that have to do with getting my father back?"
"When Conny visited Claire that last time, he removed the plans from the mother and child sculpture, remember? I guess I just assumed he would have gotten rid of them, but he didn't. He was afraid that he would be caught if he tried to return them, or sell them, so he placed them in a safety deposit box, where they remain to this day."
Her eyes brightened for the first time in several days and Jonathan hoped that her optimism wouldn't end in disappointment. He continued telling her what he and Conny had decided to do. "Unfortunately, the bank is closed until 9:00 tomorrow morning so until then there is really nothing we can do. And we have to wait for Rothenberg to contact us anyway. First thing in the morning, Conny and I are going to go to the bank and retrieve the plans. We thought that maybe you and Claire could stay here in case Rothenberg calls. I don't want Conny to go for the plans alone, as Rothenberg is undoubtedly having us watched and I don't want him to make a move on Conny without me there."
"So we wait..." She sighed, a feeling of helplessness overtaking her. She turned around fully and pulled herself into her husband's arms, taking what comfort she could from being close to him. "Is Conny still here? I sense that there is a lot that he and Claire need to discuss privately."
"He and Claire went downstairs to get a drink at the bar, I think they needed to be alone for a bit. I have a feeling that the relationship that they had between them was more complicated than we had imagined." Jonathan looked at his wife and wondered if Conny had felt the same way about Claire that he felt toward Jennifer. He couldn't even imagine being away from her for all of those years. Unbeknownst to Jonathan, Jennifer was sharing those same thoughts.
They sat there for nearly an hour, just holding each other, deep in their own thoughts yet finding peace in the fact that they were together. No matter what had happened in their lives, they had always been able to comfort each other. Together they could get through anything that life could hand them.
He gently lowered his face to hers and kissed her gently. She responded, tentatively at first, and then with more passion as her need for him grew. She pulled herself onto his lap, straddling his legs, and feeling the warmth between them. She eagerly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, tugging at the bottom to release it from where it was tucked inside his pants. Gently sliding his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, she dropped it on the window ledge where they still remained. He reciprocated, peeling her silk shirt away from her soft skin, and replacing it with a trail of tender kisses, from her neck downward. She ran her fingers through his hair and carefully kissed the bandages which still remained on his arm.
"Does it still hurt?" She asked him, a concerned tone in her voice. She felt guilty for a moment. With everything that had been going on, she had almost forgotten about her husband's brush with death. She gently rubbed the area around the bandaged wound as if her fingertips held some magical healing power.
"No darling, it's fine...really," he replied, placing his index finger under her chin and lifting her face up to meet his. He tasted her mouth, savoring each moment. She instinctively opened her lips, deepening the kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other, the need for each other growing with each passing minute.
The sound of a car horn from the street below brought them back to reality. The realization that they were in full view from the street below caused Jennifer to giggle with embarrassment. She reached for her shirt, holding it up in front of her to lessen her exposure. She leaned forward, burying her face in Jonathan's chest, in an attempt to stifle her laughter.
"Perhaps we should move this to a more suitable location?" he asked suggestively, glancing in the direction of the large king-size bed in the center of the room, eyebrows lifted.
"You don't think Aunt Claire is back yet, do you? She seemed rather upset this afternoon...she might need to talk to someone....she might need me."
"I think Aunt Claire is in good hands. She and Conny won't be back for hours, I suspect." He smiled at her seductively. "And the only one who needs you right now is me." Stretching his arm outward and pretending to moan in pain, he added, "Ooh, maybe my arm is a little sore after all. But I have a feeling that you could make it feel better in no time at all."
She rolled her eyes at him, knowing she couldn't fight her desire to be with him at that moment. "Shall we then?"
He stood up, lifting her with him, her arms tightly around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to the bed, lowering himself, and her, onto the soft comforter. They stripped away their remaining clothes and slipped under the covers, snuggling close to each other. Their bodies comforted each other, releasing their tensions and easing their worries. When they finally drifted off to sleep, they felt not only calmer, but also stronger, and more able to deal with what the next day might bring them.
Constantine Wainwright arrived promptly at 8:00 the next morning with an air of determination about him as he walked through the door. He was dressed as he always was, in a very business-like three-piece suit, but was accessorized with a small handgun concealed in the belt of his pants. He placed the gun in Jonathan's hand, explaining to him that it was his "piece" from his days with the CIA and that it had gotten him out of many sticky situations. He was concerned about what they might face that day and felt better knowing that Jonathan was prepared for any predicament they might find themselves in.
"Thanks Conny, we may just need this," Jonathan told him, hoping that he was wrong. He placed the gun on the small oak table inside the door of the suite, where he would remember to take it when they left for the bank. "We might as well join the women for a little breakfast, the bank doesn't open for another hour anyway. Jennifer and Claire are in dining room."
As Jonathan and Conny entered the room, Jennifer and Claire abruptly ended their conversation, exchanging a look very much like one that would be exchanged between two schoolgirls who were discussing the new boy at school. Jonathan looked at Jennifer and rolled his eyes, he knew his wife too well--She had been gathering information about Claire and Conny's talk the previous evening to use in her "matchmaking" attempts. Jonathan had suggested that she let things work out for themselves but he knew she wouldn't be able to help herself. There was no point in arguing with her, whenever she made up her mind that two people were "perfect for each other" she would jump right in. She had been rather successful in her previous attempts, he had to admit. Whenever he had given her a hard time about it she would reply that "I just want everyone to be as happy and in love as we are." It was hard to argue with logic like that.
Claire lips turned up into a smile the minute she saw Conny, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by Jennifer, who turned to her husband and winked. "Good morning, Conny," Claire greeted him, quickly getting out of her seat, straightening her floral dress, and filling an empty coffee mug full of the steaming brew for him.
"Good morning, Claire, Jennifer," he said as he took a seat at the table. "Something smells good in here. Croissants?"
"Here Conny, have one," Jennifer answered, holding out the plate to him.
"Thank you," he responded graciously, though he wasn't really all that hungry. He wanted this day to be over with and for his friend, Steven, to be here with his daughter, where he belonged. Ever since he had woken up that morning he had been plagued with a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling that something was wrong, really wrong.
The phone in the living room rang, startling everyone. All four of them rushed into the other room, wondering if it was Kyle Rothenberg feeling anxious to get his hands on the elusive plans.
"Hello... Yes, this is Jonathan Hart. Oh, hi detective." He shook his head to the others, indicating that the call was not the one that they had been expecting. "Uh-huh...You're sure about that? I appreciate the information. Thank you." He placed the phone back down in its base and turned to face the others before speaking.
"That was the French detective that took our unexpected guest into custody. He just wanted to update me on what his investigation had uncovered."
"Darling, what did he say?" Jennifer was uncomfortable with the look on her husband's face and it scared her. "Did something happen?"
"No, darling, nothing happened. He just had some new information for me that he thought might be helpful to us. Some additional information on this Durenga character."
"Don't keep us in suspense here, Jonathan. What did he say?" Conny wanted to know and patience wasn't his strongest virtue.
"Well, we already knew that Durenga was able to escape from the French authorities and it would appear that he has been able to make it back into this country. He has used several aliases in the past, as most professionals do, but this time he apparently used his legal name at customs. Even the best of them eventually make a mistake."
"More than likely he doesn't have a criminal record connected to his real name and thought it would expedite his re-entry into the US," Conny explained, as he was familiar with the workings of a criminal mind.
"Darling, what does this mean? It doesn't matter if we know his name, does it? He is still out there...and probably watching us right now." Jennifer looked to her husband for answers. "I don't understand."
Jonathan continued his explanation. "It would appear that the hit man is the son of a former high-ranking CIA official. He is known by several different names, two of which have been previously connected to illegal activities by Kyle Rothenberg..."
Conny cut him off in mid-sentence. "A CIA official? Who? I must know his father then. We can get the bureau involved in this."
Jonathan chose his words carefully, knowing that what he was about to say would wound the elder gentleman deeply. "Conny, I don't know how to tell you this, other than to just say it...The real name of Jack Durenga is Alexander Wainwright, your son."
