Mary McDonald - No good deed

“Okay. Give me a couple of minutes to go over these, please.” Cox accepted the packet and turned his attention to Mark. “Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. I have to tell you, I had my doubts that you would be released. The government has been hellbent on keeping enemy combatants locked up without even a trial.”

He flipped through the papers. “These look like standard documents. There’s one about your personal and business bank accounts. It looks like it might take awhile to unfreeze them.” Cox frowned. “Wait a minute…” He glared up at Jim. “What’s this? You want him to sign a statement waiving his right to pursue a lawsuit against the government?”

A muscle near Jim’s jaw tightened for a second, his mouth set in a hard line as he glanced over to Bill, who nodded in response to some unspoken question. “Apparently so.” His voice was calm.

Cox shook his head in disgust. “Could you give me a moment to confer with my client?” It was not a request.

“Certainly.” Jim moved over near Bill, but continued to observe.

“Think it over, Mark. They’ve taken away more than a year of your life, and I don’t even know what else might have happened in there.”

Jim’s face remained impassive as he waited, but his hand tighten on the handle of his briefcase. If Mark signed, it meant never getting a chance to get justice for what they did to him. Would they send him back to prison if he refused? Could they do that? He glanced over his shoulder. The guards were gone, but they could be lurking out in the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice. In fact, it was no choice at all. His heart hammered and he looked from Jim back to Cox. He couldn’t take a chance when freedom was so close.

“Give me a pen.”

When he finished, he set the pen down and ran a hand through his hair. It was official. Mark let out a shaky breath.

Jim set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a lumpy envelope and extended it towards Mark. “Here.”

Mark flinched, but didn’t take the package. He wanted to ask what was in it, but his throat spasmed as the possibility that he might truly be free began to sink in.

“Go ahead. It’s just your wallet and personal effects you had when you were taken into custody.”

Mark’s hands shook as he tore the envelope open and flipped it over. His wallet, keys and even some loose change tumbled onto the table, along with a white letter-sized envelope. Thumbing through his wallet, he was surprised to see that there was about eighty dollars in it. He pocketed the billfold, keys and change. He stared at the envelope for a moment before pushing it back towards Jim. “I don’t think this is mine…sir.” What if they had planted some evidence in there? As soon as he touched it, they would say that he claimed it, and must be guilty.

Shoving it back, Jim snapped, “Take it. You’re going to need it.”

“Yes, sir.” Swallowing hard, Mark picked it up.

“I’ll see what it is.” Cox reached over and took it from him and opened it. “There’s a plane ticket to Chicago.” He squinted at the ticket. “The flight leaves in just a few hours.” He pulled out a stack of bills. “And some cash. Eight hundred dollars.”

Mark shot a look at Cox. “That’s not mine.” He rose, backing away with his hands raised, palms outward.

“Listen, it’s just money for food and lodging for a few days until you get settled.” Jim clicked his briefcase closed.

Cox snorted. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll cover all his expenses. You know he’s going to need more than that.”

Jim shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

Stepping forward, Mark took the envelope. Despite the limited amount, he realized he would need it. “Thank you.” The words lodged in his throat.

Nodding, Jim drummed his fingers on top of his briefcase and looked at Mark as if he had something he wanted to say, but instead, he swung the briefcase off the table and put his hand out. “You’re welcome.”

Confused, Mark looked at the hand, then up at Jim. He couldn’t do it. Even if they put him back in prison. “I…ah-”

“Never mind.” Jim dropped his hand and strode to the back of the room, disappearing out the door.

In the sudden silence, Mark tried to focus, but his mind was whirling, and he remembered Cox had said something about his assets. “My bank accounts?”

“Yes, they were immediately frozen when you were designated an enemy combatant. I wish I could tell you when it’ll be all cleared up, but I can’t say for sure.”

The eight hundred dollars didn’t seem so generous now. What would he do until his accounts were available? Mark pushed it from his mind. He could deal with that back in Chicago. Right now, he just needed to get out of here.

At the airport an hour later, Mark approached the security checkpoint. People were taking off their shoes, and some were pulled out of line for no reason that Mark could tell. His hands began to sweat, and he swiped them on his thighs. He didn’t want to take his shoes off. Glancing at the man behind him, he started to ask what was going on, but that man had a cell phone to his ear, and just glared at him.

Mark’s mouth went dry as his turn approached, then a security guard tapped him on the shoulder. “Step to the side please.”

He hesitated. Freedom was so close. “Is…is something wrong?”

“No, sir. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

The phrase sent a chill through him. Jim and Bill said they were just going to ask a few questions. It was stupid to be worried. He had nothing to hide and others had been questioned. “Okay.”

It took only a few moments even though it felt like much longer, but in the end, they let him pass through. He tugged his shirt away from his body, feeling like he had just run a few sprints. With no bags, check in went quickly. Mark sank onto a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He tried to relax as he waited for the flight to be called, but he couldn’t keep still. His leg bounced and when he noticed, he stopped, but then began drumming his fingers on the armrests.

A harried looking woman approached. With one hand, she dragged a small suitcase on wheels, and a huge purse hung off her shoulder. Her other hand clutched the hand of a little girl.. The child poked a finger in her mouth and stared at him with wide brown eyes. “Sit in the chair, Olivia.” The child didn’t budge, just kept her gaze on him. Mark squirmed.

“It’s okay, honey.” She lifted the girl and set her in the chair. Mark gave her an encouraging smile. He’d always been good with the children that came to have their portraits taken. The girl scooted as far from Mark as she could. The woman stood beside the chair and looked at her watch before tugging on the straps of her purse. It looked heavy.

He saw that all the other chairs were taken. The woman should sit beside her child. He stood, waving towards the chair. “Here, you can have my seat, ma’am.” Mark shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped away. His heart raced, and he tried to shake off his nerves. It was just a mom and her kid. Nothing scary about that. Except that he had only spoken to a handful of people in the last year, and most of them had been interrogating him.

“Oh no, that’s all right. I don’t mind standing.” She plunged her hand into the depths of her purse, but one strap came off her arm, upending the bag. The contents tumbled out onto the floor. “Shoot!” Mark gaped at the pile of miscellaneous items. He was sure that MacGyver could build a whole car with the contents of that purse. Bending to pick up the items, the flustered woman knocked the handle of her suitcase, and it tipped, resulting in more angry words from the mother. The little girl began to cry. “Olivia, hon, it’s fine. Don’t cry.” Her voice shook.