Target:
Howard Marks
By Miki and Pete
Schulte
Kellen
Conrad was still entry-level at the agency. He’d done nothing to esteem
himself, but not given the chance either. His job was to keep surveillance
after retired workers with the agency, to make sure they still knew how to keep
secrets following their tenure of service. This was important. They knew a lot,
and could still do ample harm to the agency despite advancing age and
circumstance.
To
Kellen though, the position had plenty of downtime, weeks of unadulterated
boredom. He often fell asleep at his desk. The retirees, after all, weren’t all
that active. They’d take walks, go to the park, the mall, and then eat an early
bird supper. And that was on a busy day. Some days they’d just putz around in
their underwear and do nothing at all.
But
one day at the office there came a call with a tip. A double-agent, Boris
Karkov, wanted Kellen to know that one of his possible charges, a Howard Marks,
had chatted him up at the park and mentioned he’d worked on the 3.14 Project
Series back in the day. Karkov thought the old man knew what he was taking
about, though he appeared confused at times and was possibly suffering from
Dementia.
Kellen
studied up on Howard Marks and the 3.14 and found most of the documents
blackened out. This was serious stuff, he thought, serious enough to kick it
upstairs to Mr. Smith. Not doing so would be risky. Though this was probably
nothing, a mistake and the wrath of Mr. Smith could end his career, or worse.
That
same afternoon, Kellen was let into Mr. Smith’s office. He cautiously
approached his intimidating boss. He was not invited to sit. “What have got,
Conrad?” said Mr. Smith. “It’d better be important.”
“I’ve
got a former, sir,” Kellen replied. “Howard Marks, age 91.”
“Never
heard of him.”
“I
did some checking,” said Kellen. “He’s in good physical health, this Marks, but
mentally he’s slipping. Perhaps symptoms of dementia.”
“Keep
going…”
“Anyway,
Marks talked to my double, Karkov, in the park over a game of chess. It seems
he mentioned something called the 3.14 Project Series. It sounded familiar to
Karkov and he became concerned. What is the 3.14 anyway?”
“What
that is, Conrad, is none of your concern. Understand?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Now,
go about your business, okay Conrad? I’ll call you if I need you.”
With
that, Kellen was dismissed from Mr. Smith’s office and returned to his own. The
call from Mr. Smith came within the hour. He was ordered to return at once.
This time he was asked to take a seat. “Conrad,” said Mr. Smith, “this is what
you need to know. Marks must be terminated at once, and you’re going to arrange
for this to happen. With his advanced age and dementia, he cannot be trusted
with information regarding the 3.14. The 3.14 still has repercussions to this
day. Is that clear to you?”
“It
is clear,” replied Kellen, “but termination, sir? Is such an old man really
that dangerous?”
“Now
don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Conrad. Marks has lived a long life, a good
life. But he signed on for this just like we did. Rule number one: If you spill
the beans, the beans spill you. You have a problem with that, Conrad?”
“No,
sir.”
“Now
your mission is to go to the West End Seniors Center. You will ask for Andy --
no last name. When you make contact, you will inform Andy that there has been a
breach. You will provide the name Howard Marks. That is all. Also, you will be
in full disguise. This will be an in-person contact. No calls or computer, no
trace at all. Clear?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“And
Conrad,” continued Mr. Smith, “you must not fail. Failure would be highly
detrimental to the agency, and to you particularly. Got it?”
“Yes,
sir. I‘ve got it.”
Kellen
felt ridiculous in disguise. He never wore a ball cap and this one seemed to
sit funny on his head. His glasses were too large for his face and his fake
mustache made him look like a 70’s era porn star. His limp felt forced and the
artificial cast on his arm itched. He couldn’t wait to get this over with.
After
arriving at the West End Seniors Center, Kellen waded through walkers and wheel
chairs to get to the reception desk. He’d given up on the limp already. He was
met at the desk by a young women wearing some kind of nurse uniform. Her name
tag read ‘Paulette.’
Kellen
Conrad had always thought himself too smart and cautious to believe in such a
silly concept as love at first sight. That is, until he looked into the
gray-green eyes of Paulette. Oh, he was smitten all right, but he had a job to
do. He had to help kill an old man.
“May
I help you?” asked Paulette.
Kellen
didn’t know whether to ask for Andy right off or poke around for him first. So
he said to Paulette, “My parents are aging. I wanted to get a look at your
establishment.”
“Our
establishment?”
“Well,
I wanted to see if it was a nice place. That people are cared for.”
Paulette
thought for a moment, then said, “They are cared for here. I see to that. They’re
like family to us, all the way to the end. Would you care for a tour?”
“Yes,
that would be nice.”
“But
first,” said Paulette, “you must tell me where you got those glasses. They’re
fantastic. You look like Elton John.”
“Oh,
thanks. My usual ones broke.”
“Like
your arm,” she continued.
Kellen
glanced down at his fake cast. “Yes, like my arm.”
“What
is your name anyway?”
“My
name?” he said, buying some time to think of a good one.
“Yes,
your name.”
“My
name…is Ben Sterling.”
Paulette
smiled and thrust out her hand for him to shake. “It’s very nice to meet you,
Ben Sterling.”
Paulette’s
tour was thorough and very detailed, but Kellen wasn’t listening to a word she
was saying. Instead, all he could think about was wanting to hold her hand,
wanting to kiss her lips, wanting her, loving her. It was the best tour he ever
had, this tour of the old folks home. Then she came upon a room and poked her
head in. “Mr. Marks, how are you feeling this morning?”
“Well,
I’m not dead yet,” he said from his bed, this tiny old man under the covers.
“No,”
laughed Paulette, “of course you’re not dead. I’m afraid you’re going to be
with us for quite some time.”
“Oh,
don’t tell me that,” replied Howard Marks. “Please don’t tell me that.”
“Now,
Mr. Marks, please don’t joke around like that. I’m giving Mr. Sterling a tour,
and we don’t want to give him the wrong impression. This is a happy place.”
“Sterling,”
said Howard Marks, “run -- don’t walk. That’s all I’m saying. This one’s
beautiful, but I trust her about as far as I can throw her. The pretty ones are
deadly.”
“Oh,
Mr. Marks,” said Paulette, “you tease me so much.”
They
soon left his room and resumed the tour. When they got back to the desk,
Paulette checked her watch and hinted to Kellen that their interaction was
over. Kellen quickly gathered his senses. “I’m wondering, Paulette, if an
acquaintance of mine is still working here. His name is Andy. Do you know him?”
“Andy?
Of course. I’ll call him in.”
Andy
came in and looked Kellen over warily. Kellen greeted him as if he were a long
lost friend and did his best to find them a place out of earshot from the desk
and Paulette. Satisfied, he whispered to Andy, “There’s been a breach…”
It
was well after midnight when Andy entered the room of Howard Marks. He found Howard,
wide awake, sitting at his desk by the window. “You’re still up?” inquired
Andy.
“Yes,”
replied Howard. “I knew there was something screwy going on when I had two
visitors today. That’s two more than I’ve ever gotten.”
“You
mentioned the 3.14 to somebody at the park. You know you can’t do that.”
“I
did?” said Howard. “Well, maybe I did. I can’t keep track any longer. It‘s all
so confusing.”
“I
know,” said Andy. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Wait,”
replied Howard. “Before you do you worst, let me have one more drink -- and you
have one too, with me. For old time‘s sake.”
“That’s
fine, Howard. One more drink.”
“What
will it be,” asked Howard, pulling two bottles from the lower part of his desk,
“whisky or gin?”
“Whiskey
is fine,” said Andy.
Howard
poured two glasses and passed one of them to Andy. They toasted to good times
and then it was down the hatch. Andy was fine for a moment and then felt
something burning deep inside. Then he went to breath but couldn’t without
gasping. Then he knew he shouldn’t have taken that drink.
“Why
did you choose whiskey?” asked Howard. “Doesn’t anyone drink gin anymore?”
Kellen
got word that Andy was found dead. He had no choice but to give this
information to Mr. Smith. Needless to say, he was not pleased. “Andy is dead?
That fool. I should just hire senior citizens for these positions. Everyone
thinks they’re so stupid, and yet, look what happens? Marks is alive.”
“I’m
sorry, sir.”
“You’re
sorry? Well, Conrad, I have no use for your sorrow. I need you to contact the
one person who will not fail, the one person who has never failed. I need you
make contact with… Paulette.”
“Paulette?”
questioned Kellen.
“Yes.
Paulette.”
The
end.
