Haggai Carmon - Triple Identity

I went out to the street and decided to walk to my hotel. I had earned the right to be a worry-free tourist. Both my assignments were over, and yet I still felt a weight on my shoulders.

As I walked I began to notice something odd out of the corner of my eye. Each time I passed a store window I could see a black BMW just slightly behind me, driving slowly. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. Here we go again. Someone was clearly following me. I continued walking as my mind clicked through the possibilities. Who would be following me now? DeLouise was dead. The Colombians, the Iranians, and Guttmacher were all in prison in one place or another. Was a reserve force sent out? Was it the check? I'd already given it to Ron.

I had two choices – to dry clean it by entering a narrow street against traffic where the BMW couldn't enter or to turn back and confront the driver.

I suddenly felt as if I'd had enough of all this. I was not in the mood for games. I stopped, turned around, and walked directly to the car. The windows were tinted so I couldn't see who was inside. As I got closer, the car stopped and the passenger door opened. I stepped up carefully, ready for anything – gun, fist, or foot.

“Please get in,” I heard Ariel's voice from behind the wheel.

My jaw dropped as well as my defenses. She was the last person on earth I'd expected to follow me, and yet the first I could have hoped to see on my lonely walk. But I wasn't ready for more berating, not even from Ariel.

I hesitated. “Come on. I promise I won't bite,” Ariel said.

Why was I holding back? Who was I kidding? I got in and Ariel drove off. “I just rented this car yesterday and I still haven't figured out all the buttons.”

I said nothing.

Ariel drove onto the autobahn. I was still quiet. She didn't speak either. I remembered how nice it had been when we were together without the need to talk. Though there were some questions on my mind, I began to relax, and smiled at how easily that wonderful feeling came back between us.

Ten minutes later Ariel took the first exit on the outskirts of Munich and, after driving for several minutes through a beautiful neighborhood, entered the courtyard of a villa. I had no idea where we were.

She parked the car and got out. I didn't follow, maybe in something of a daze. Ariel walked around to my door and opened it. “Come,” she said softly.

I followed her as she entered the house. The place was gorgeous. The foyer was huge with a high ceiling, crystal chandelier, and soft Persian carpets. Some very good oil paintings hung on the walls; gleaming mahogany and glass cabinets displayed pre-Columbian artifacts and antique English silver hollowware.

“What is this place? Why did you bring me here?”

Ariel came closer to me. I smelled her light perfume, the one I had missed so much.

“Don't make me beg,” she said.

I was surprised, “Beg for what?”

“For you to notice me,” she said.

“Notice you?” I asked in utter disbelief. “Ariel, I can't get you out of my mind. You haven't left me since the day we met.”

Ariel held my arm. “Come, let's go into the living room.” I followed her.

A fire blazed in the fireplace; Rubinstein's recording of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 played softly in the background.

“What is this place?”

“It's mine,” said Ariel. “It's one of the assets my father left me. Until recently, the ambassador of a South American country used it as his residence. I wanted you to be the first to see it, before I helped the staff find other jobs and put it up for sale.”

Was she flashing her riches at me? That didn't fit the Ariel I thought I knew.

“Why me?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

Ariel didn't answer. She went to a table and poured red wine from a carafe into two crystal goblets. She handed me one and raised hers. “This is to the future, for the good things that are about to happen.”

Ariel was clearly toying with me again. I felt sucked into her game, not knowing what would come next.

“I'll drink to that,” I said and sipped.

She came to me, took the glass from my hand, put it on the table, and kissed me. First lightly as if she were testing the waters, then passionately.

We moved to the sofa. “Hold me,” she whispered in my ear, “just hold me. I need to get used to you again. I saw you every night in my dreams, and now you're here.”

Ariel curled up in my arms. I looked at the fireplace, touched her soft hair, her face, her body, while the music conjured vistas of natural landscapes and a vast expanse of surging waves. Ariel closed her eyes. I bent to kiss her again, but she was already asleep.

“Nice beginning,” I said to myself.