Chapter 1
The buzzing of the digital clock signaled Camille Blackwell’s anniversary at International Jewelry Distribution Company, her faux employer and the source of one of the most challenging cases she had accepted since joining the Federal Bureau of Investigations six years ago.
Thank God, it’s Friday, she thought, rolling onto her stomach and hiding her face underneath her pillow. She almost dreaded the day ahead. It would start early and end tonight with the office happy hour to celebrate her anniversary and latest promotion.
Camille pulled back the satin covered haven determined to end the obnoxious siren beckoning her to begin her day. She squinted, until the red, glowing numbers came into focus. It was 4:40 am. She grunted upon realizing she had hit snooze one time too many. Her morning routine was simple, but required that she start her day early. She would run for an hour and then spend some time reading the Houston Chronicle newspaper and browsing the Internet, hoping to find anything to close a case that seemed endless.
Camille grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and tossed back the covers, exposing her to the cool air. She placed her sock-covered feet into her slippers and plodded to the small corner desk. She started her computer before dragging to the kitchen to brew her morning coffee. She selected Southern Pecan coffee, her favorite, and mindlessly added the filter and ground flavored beans as she contemplated the state of the current case.
Camille was an undercover agent assigned to investigate the suspected illegal dealings between International Jewelry Distribution Company, or IJDC, and stateside trafficking of conflict diamonds. The Bureau suspected that one of IJDC’s key suppliers obtained its stones from diamond mines in South Africa. Her directives required that she observe company relations, identify the major suppliers, and form relationships within the company to determine whether they were in fact, obtaining their merchandise through illegal means.
Her degree in international business and minor in fashion merchandising made her the Bureau’s prime candidate to pose as an account representative responsible for purchasing precious stones. Initially, she welcomed the assignment away from DC and him. Now, she realized she enjoyed working at IJDC and for the first time, in a long time, her life seemed somewhat normal.
Her job as an agent required much of her time and when not on assignment, Camille spent her free time trying to stay connected with her family back home in Dallas. Since taking the assignment in Houston, she went to work and socialized, but what she thought would be an easy, four-month assignment soon became complicated. Her initial position did not provide the necessary access to internal records of wholesale accounts, which left her working double duty to prove herself to the Bureau and IJDC.
A significant change began six months ago when she had been promoted to senior account representative for International Accounts. She now had a few subordinates and things were beginning to look up. She only hoped she’d uncover something soon or she was sure Derek would remove her from the case.
Camille looked at the clock on her microwave. She needed to get a move on and start her run. She pressed the timer on the coffeemaker and dashed out of the kitchen to her bedroom to change out of her nightclothes. She adjusted an accent pillow as she passed the living room. Her furnishings closely resembled the crimson-colored sofa covered in velvety plush microfiber in her home back in DC. The Bureau had spared no expense to make her comfortable once they agreed she would invest more time on the case. The two-bedroom condo placed her in the heart of Houston and she was less than twenty minutes from nearly everything, including IJDC’s headquarters.
She quickly dressed in a sleeveless top and a black running skirt and then tamed her unruly, curly tresses into a ponytail. Camille locked the front door, securing her house keys and cell phone in the hidden pocket in the lining of her skirt. She powered up her heart rate monitor and started her stretching routine while scanning the street, noticing the normal unoccupied vehicles.
Camille positioned her earplugs in her ears and selected her favorite hip-hop playlist. She pressed play, heading north at a slow jog. She loved running. There was something about the burn in her muscles and the ability to exert power over her body, moving beyond her comfort zone.
This case was much like every other case she accepted. They challenged her aptitude to find the bad guys causing unknown harm to the country. For that she was proud, however, she paid a great cost for serving her country.
Camille slowed her pace as she approached a red signal light. Labeling her a hermit would be a compliment; she had no life. Her last intimate relationship ended months before she accepted the IJDC case. She had a few friends from college and a supportive family, but she limited her contact with them to minimize their potential exposure to her cases. The rest of her friends did not know her true identity, leaving her to live a lonely, isolated life.
Dismissing that thought, Camille increased the volume on her iPod as Marvin Gaye crooned and Jay-Z rhymed about the deceptions of American Dreamin’. She decided to take the long route. Her run would serve two purposes; physical activity and to pass the IJDC grounds. She would run the extra five miles, hoping something, anything, would appear out of place on the premises because she was ready for this case to end.
* * *
All work and no play made Marc Fulton a boring man. But not for long, he thought as he zipped the last suitcase closed. He decided to travel for a few months with no definite plans other than visiting his home of Houston, Texas. Marc grabbed his bags, placing them by his front door. He expected the car service shortly and still needed to walk through his house once more before heading to the office for the morning meeting.
The Central Intelligence Agency had managed to tame the beast in him for twelve years, but he was itching to be set free. He stood at his patio doors checking the locks. Next, he ensured the fridge and trash were empty and that his furniture was covered.
His career had afforded him a smorgasbord of all that life had to offer, whether the best foods and wines or beautiful women. He had the luxury of traveling the world while tracking down the bad guys. While most Americans slept soundly, he was investigating leads, identifying the movements of international terrorist groups, particularly those operating in the Middle East.
Throughout his career, he worked in many departments, but following 9/11, things had gone south. His caseload increased and the necessary manpower had decreased. He had worked at an unreasonable, and unrealistic pace leaving his home feeling like a ghost town and his family wondering if he had evaporated into thin air.
Moving across international borders and spending months and months away from his family was taking a toll on Marc. He thought he could continue until retirement, but he felt a break was in order to reevaluate his life and future plans. His original career aspirations were to train new recruits for the agency. However, he changed his job classification after his divorce to get away and submerge himself in his work.
That was ten years ago, and he had saved up a nice little nest egg, but the lure of retiring from the agency almost guaranteed a successful transition into another career. Maybe he would reconsider teaching and continue to accumulate his time towards retirement.
He made his way through his single family home and shook his head in amusement. Marc could still hear the excitement in his mother’s voice when he called last week to tell her of his plans. It had been more than three years since his last trip home. He would use the time to catch up with his parents, hit the beaches in Galveston, and try to imitate life as that of a normal person. Marc chuckled, he knew Houston would easily bore him, but his mother would be elated.
Marc answered his ringing cell phone. It was the front guard telling him his driver was outside the community gate.
He grabbed his bags and with a sweeping glance, he walked out the door meeting a female driver dressed in a tuxedo-influenced business suit. She grabbed his bags and placed them in the trunk as he activated his home’s security system. He stopped a foot from the rear passenger side of the white Lincoln Town Car, appreciating the slow sweep she gave him from head to toe. Her gaze stopped at his oblong face and deep, rich brown eyes and he flashed his signature-crooked smile. She averted her eyes; she had been caught.
“Hello, Mr. Fulton. Where to first?”
Marc hid his fascination with the slight feline purr in her voice.
“I need to stop by my office and then the airport,” he said, as they stood face-to-face. “I‘ll need you to wait at the office while I run in. It should take about twenty minutes or so.”
“Yes, Mr. Fulton.”
“Please call me Marc. Mr. Fulton is my father. And you are?”
With a slight nod, she opened the passenger rear door. “Yes, Marc. I’m Aisha. Nice to meet you.” She grasped the hand he extended. Her husky tone made him smile again.
Yes, this little break is starting on a good note, he thought. He didn’t have a specific type of woman that interested him, but he valued the chase.
“Nice to meet you Aisha. Let’s get moving.”
At his curt response, she snapped back into professional mode. She closed the door behind him and rounded the car. The car started with a soft hum. He caught her gaze in the rear-view mirror as she stole glances at him during the drive.
Marc was ready for this break from his normal pace. He worked for the past month clearing his cases and transferring the remaining ones to a co-worker. He would spend a few months away and explore what he planned to do for the rest of his life. Working for the agency curbed his need for adventure, but the hours were long and the politics of it all was becoming a bore. He didn’t like bullshit, and the more he advanced, the more it seemed to become a bigger part of his job description.
He caught Aisha’s glances several times. He knew most women found him attractive, but he had played and failed at love. He married early and divorced before celebrating his third anniversary after learning his wife was unfaithful. He decided to cut his losses, knowing that he could not sit around babysitting his young bride and still stay focused on his career.
That was nearly twenty years ago and his mother, God help him, was hinting about grandchildren. He loved his mother, but he didn’t see having children without a wife. He had done that once and didn’t plan to subject himself to such chaos again. He knew people that enjoyed being married, like his parents who had recently celebrated their fortieth anniversary. His pops seemed happy and so did his mother. It was possible for some, but not for him.
His cell phone interrupted his musing. “Fulton.”
A smile spread across his face. “Yes, Mom. I have to stop by the office and check in and then I’m headed to the airport.”
He watched the scenery roll past as his mother went on and on. She wanted to pick him up from the airport, but he planned to go straight to the hotel before seeing his family.
“Don’t worry about meeting me at the airport. I need to get a rental car and I have some plans to meet up with a few college buddies. So, I’ll come by for dinner later tonight.”
He caught Aisha’s eyes again as the car stopped in front of the CIA office. He pointed to an open parking space, and she maneuvered the car into it as he reached for the door handle.
Marc bid his mother farewell as he walked into the discreet field office. He was excited about the break awaiting him in Texas. He increased his pace adding pep to his step and began the silent countdown to his much-needed vacation.