Elisabeth Auld

Trouble - A Novel Excerpt

*Jo*

Rainy gray day, packed metro. Jo had no interest in being awake today, much less going to work. The couple next to her were whispering, but Jo could see this was not a friendly conversation. The man looked a little rough–clothes a little askew and some faded bruises on his chin and temple. The woman was the opposite–decked out in a well-made coat, slim tailored pants, and ballerina flats with that distinctive sole that Jo recognized from Instagram. Her bag was enormous–some designer too chic for Jo to recognize–and appeared to be moving. 

Jo gave herself a mental shake. Surely she was imagining things. But then it happened again, and she swore she heard a soft mewling. Jo pulled out her phone and pretended to study something, hoping her curiosity wasn’t too obvious. 

The couples whispering took a more urgent tone and became loud enough that Jo realized it was not English. Interesting. What language? Jo had only long-ago middle school German, barely remembered high school Spanish and some world travel to rely on. What could it be? This was way more exciting than anything on her phone, but she continued to study the screen intently to hide her fascination. 

Jo's thoughts immediately filled in their back story–was it a personal or a business relationship? Were they related? Hmmmm. Definitely something personal. The man kept touching her as he talked, in that unconscious and comforting way of a long-term relationship. But they seemed so mismatched. Or a long-lost father and daughter? Maybe he's a starving artist? Maybe she was his model, his muse? Jeez, Jo, watch soapy TV much? 

The metro popped out into the open and the bright sunshine caught her attention. The change in the weather didn't change her mood as the metro pushed on towards her windowless cubicle. A distinctive growl snapped her attention back to her couple. Hers–ha! Already she felt they belonged to her. 

The woman's hands darted into the bag as the movement inside it became much more obvious. 

“Ow!” She yelped and pulled out a hand that now had a long scratch on it. 

Cat, Jo thought, ugh, who needs that? Jo was definitely in the dog camp. The man raised his voice–clearly he was scolding the woman–and tears were beginning to form in her wide, beautiful eyes. 

Jo's phone rang. Her boss. Why couldn't she be going through a tunnel right now? Jo answered, but only heard her boss' muffled voice. He always did this, started a conversation with someone else while the call was connecting so the call-ee had to wait for his attention.

 “Jo! Dan here.” (No kidding). What time are we meeting today?” Jo tried to hide her sigh. They met every Thursday at the same time and had been for months. Yet every week she got the same call. 

“At 9:30.”

“What are we discussing?” Dan asked. 

The same damn thing, Dan! She took a breath, “The status of our project.” 

“Oh right.” Then Dan launched into another topic. Thankfully, the metro darted back underground and the connection was cut. Yes! 

Now back to her couple...but they were gone! Jo didn't remember the metro stopping while she was on the phone, but it must have. She looked longingly at the seat next to her, now occupied by a clean-cut guy carrying a military-style backpack (Pentagon dweller, obvs.) and a nice looking, well-dressed older woman, put together in a way Jo very much admired. She would look totally at home anchoring a news desk or running some federal department–what was she doing on the metro? The woman gave the guy a look and they stood up and moved down the car towards the door.  Weird, she didn’t picture them together. The guy seemed familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why.

The metro continued downtown, and the occupants filed in and out. Jo’s thoughts wandered. Then she heard the mewling sound again. Wha–? Pushed way under the seat was the swanky bag–it had been left behind. No one else seemed to have heard. Jo quickly changed seats and nonchalantly moved the bag far enough out from under the seat so that she could see inside. The only thing in the bag was, as she guessed, a kitten, swaddled in a soft blanket. The metro pulled into her station and without thinking, Jo grabbed the bag and walked out like she owned it. 

Now what? Jo's brain quickly scrolled through the many ‘complicated’ situations she had gotten herself into by going with her gut. The bag and its occupant would not end any better, she was sure of it. Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the time–9:15. Shit. She ignored the text, flipped her bags on to her other shoulder, and began dialing. Please oh please pick up pick up pick up! 

“Christopher Williams, Sloaner-Stone, may I help you?” 

“Chris! Help!”

“What now?” he snarked.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Can you turn on the computer and projector in the conference room and start the coffee?”

“Isn't it your turn to do that?”

“Yes…but Metro’s made me late. I promise I'll set up the next ten meetings for you if you cover for me.”

“You already owe me,like, for the last two weeks.”

“I'll bake you cookies.”

Chris' tone turned serious, “Like chocolate and everything?”

“Yes!”

“Done,” he said and he hung up. 

Jo raced through her building’s security and punched the button for the basement. She dashed into the building’s minuscule gym and hoped her gym locker would get sufficient air for the kitten. She never saw anyone else there, so this seemed like a good idea.  Putting the bag under her desk wouldn't work, not even. Her office was like a tomb and any sound louder than a whisper would get noticed. 

Her phone buzzed, text from Chris: Conf Rm ready, Dan running late, can't wait for cookies. Hallelujah! Dan was always late, bless him. 

“Sorry dude,” Jo whispered as she gently folded the bag into her locker then dashed back to the elevators. She popped out on her floor, threw her coat and bag on her chair, and ran into the conference room, ten seconds before her boss.

On and on her boss talked, deep in the weeds and nowhere near the end of the weekly agenda. Jo began to fidget in earnest. She had been thinking about leaving Sloaner-Stone forever. It was the exact opposite of what she was hoping to do with her hard-won, high-dollar college degree. But it wasn’t awful enough (yet) to take a chance at potential unemployment.

“Jo, hello Jo?” 

Awesome, now she was caught not paying attention. 

“Next slide please?” 

Got it. Jo hated feeling ungrateful.  She had a safe, comfortable job, she was financially independent, and so many others were struggling. Yikes, where has this black cloud come from? Jo put her best ‘I'm paying attention’ look on her face and focused on her boss. Finally, finally, the meeting ended, and Jo tidied up quickly. As casually as she could she headed back down to the gym to check on her ward.

“Hey sweetie, how are you?” The little ball of fuzz blinked its eyes in the bright light and gave a little shiver. Jo picked him–her?--up and walked over to the sink to give it some water. She had nothing cat appropriate but held out some tiny crusts of donut she had swiped from the morning meeting. 

“I really hate cats,” she cooed as she petted the softest, fluffiest fur ever. Jo was a goner, and she knew it. Carefully she put the kitten back in the bag, stuffing in lots of paper towels since she had no litter box to offer, and gently put the bag back in her locker. She was going to develop a strong migraine or perhaps cramps (her boss was squeamish about any ailment, especially anything uniquely female) and head home as soon as she could get away with it. Way to be lean-in-Jo, she chided herself.

By lunch Jo was back in the locker room, collecting her charge, and practically skipped out of the building. She loved riding the mid-day Metro. All the dull worker bees were replaced with cheerful tourists and families. There was room to breathe and playful chatter. Jo sat down, picking a seat near a boisterous group of kids, and tucking the bag carefully behind her legs. While she normally wanted the quiet, right now she needed cover. She assumed her best too-cool-for-tourists seat slouch and wished the metro was faster.

Her phone buzzed. 

Where are you? Why aren’t you answering my texts?  

Oops. In all the hubbub she had been ignoring her phone and now saw all the texts from her mom.  She had agreed to meet her sister and mother for lunch. They were in town scouting wedding locations for Sally's upcoming nuptials. Her sister had no interest whatsoever in adventure, much less leaving her hometown, yet somehow had snagged the attention of Ben, Jr., son of Senator Ben J. Wilson, Sr. Now Sally traveled in the innermost circles of DC, ditzily unaware that the crowd she ran with now included many of Washington’s elite. 

Jo was happy for her, really. What aggravated her to no end was that both Sally and Ben Jr. had no interest in using their now elevated social status to do anything but party. Sigh. And her Mom worshiped the Wilson family–worshiped–despite the Senator’s far-from-progressive reputation. Stop! Her sister was happy, everyone was happy, Jo should just be happy. Sigh. 

Sorry, went home sick, she texted back.

Finally, the Metro got to her stop. She made her way to her car, swiped out of the garage, and pointed her car towards the nearest Petco. Her wallet was $238 lighter, but she left with enough to get by for the next few days and an appointment to come back and get the kitten checked out by the in-store vet. As she pulled into her apartment her heart sank. Her mom's aging minivan was parked in her space. Her youngest sibling was twenty-five, yet her mom still drove that beast. Why wasn't she at lunch with her sister? 

Jo took a quick left and pulled around the back. The last thing she needed to do was explain the kitten, so she parked in a shady spot, cracked all the windows, and cut through the building to her front door. 

“Hi, Mom.”

“Jo...” Her mother began with the tone that she always detested. It was all about missing lunch and her lack of support for Sally and how Sally wished for Jo's involvement in this momentous time in her life...which was a complete crock. Sally wanted Jo's involvement in her wedding about as much as Jo wanted to wear the monstrosity of pink that was her bridesmaid dress. Jo was one of ten bridesmaids–she felt so special! 

She gave herself a mental shake and turned her attention back to her mom. “And then when I called your office and talked to Dan–such a lovely man–said you had gone home sick over two hours ago. I was worried to death!” 

Jo tried and failed to hide a large sigh. “Mom, the Metro is slow midday. And I was feeling crappy. I stopped at CVS to see if they had something for me.” 

“What's the matter?”

“I have a killer headache.” Did she ever (metaphorically) although an actual throbbing was now growing at the base of her neck. 

“But we have dinner with the Senator tonight.” Her mom had paused breathlessly on "the Senator". Jo tried to hide her eye roll. 

The dinner was going to cost her a week’s lattes in valet parking and was sure to be eye-numbingly boring. Awesome. 

“Give me a chance to take some Motrin and lay down for a bit and I'll rally.” That seemed to placate her mom. With a last little bit of motherly cooing, her mom roared off in her van and finally Jo could get her new charge out of the car and into her apartment.

As she closed the door behind her, Jo sighed with relief. She was finally alone with her mysterious companion. She pulled the sweet ball of fluff out of the bag. The wide blinking eyes instantly melted her heart. The kitten had long soft fur, as black as coal, intense blue eyes, and white around his front paws and on the tips of his ears. 

First things first, boy or girl? Yep, boy. A wild looking boy with blue eyes and a mysterious past–no wonder she was a goner. She picked him up and set him down in the litter box. Jo really had no idea what she was doing, but cheered enthusiastically when he performed on command. She opened some food for him, and he attacked it hungrily. 

Now what to do with him tonight? Maybe the bathroom–no carpet and limited upholstery to shred. Jo picked up the bag to set on her kitchen table, and it made a clunk sound. Huh? She pulled out the baby blanket and all the shredded paper towels. No sign of anything in the main compartment. She opened the inside pocket zipper–nothing in there either. Pulling the pocket inside out, she noticed a hole at the bottom which someone had tried to repair. Hmmmm. 

Jo carefully ripped open the seam. She pushed the pocket back in the bag and her hand down inside the bag. Her finger brushed against something which she carefully pulled back out of the bag. She started unwrapping the item, but her mind had already leapt ahead. A pistol. Jo dropped it like it was on fire and ran out of the kitchen when it tumbled off the table. 

Jo gave herself a mental kick and returned to the kitchen, using the wrappings to carefully pick up the gun. What to do now? Hiding it seemed like the best option, then she could deal with it later. Looking around, her eyes landed on the lunch boxes on top of her bookcase. The Wonder Woman one would be perfect. She slid the gun carefully into the lunch box then pushed it back behind the others. Jo went back to the bag and gave it a good shake to see if there were any more surprises. Out dropped a thumb drive. Hmmm. Something to look at later. She put the bag in the back of her coat closet for safe keeping. 

The kitten suddenly brushed against her, making her jump, which made the kitten hiss, sending Jo into a fit of giggles. "Oh Trouble, what are we going to do with each other?" Trouble curled up against her and started to purr. Yep, she was a complete goner.

*Sam*

“Sam, you’re with me.” 

Multiple deployments, eliminating terrorists and protecting high-value personnel, and today he’s assigned to surveillance with Robin, who was probably the same age as his mother. And she was always dressed “fancy.” Not “girly,” but definitely not clothes you would take someone down in. Seriously. How is it possible she’s an agent? Sam had been looking forward to this assignment, his chance to do the work he loved, but back on home soil. There was only so much dust, heat, and body armor you could take in a lifetime. 

“Let’s go.” Robin gathered her enormous satchel after switching shoes. 

He didn’t get this about women. Why wear shoes you can’t walk in, and carry a second pair you can walk in? 

They made their way to the metro and took their positions. Their target was a Russian named Max who was making a drop to a contact. They didn’t know what, but given Max’s track record they knew he was up to no good. The agents tagged to follow Max overnight had just reported he was on the Metro and traveling with a woman, so they took positions along the station platform, studying their phones like everyone else. 

Sam got a text: On the red line, 4th car.  He saw Robin glance up and over his head to the Metro status board.  The sign flashed, Red Line, Fort Totten, 3 mins.  Sam plugged his headphones into his phone and edged closer to the tracks. 

 “Catch that?” he heard in his ear. 

“Roger.” 

Sam and Robin entered the car from different doors with the rest of the commuter crowd. The car was packed. They scanned the car unobtrusively.  The doors shut, and Sam pushed towards the front of the car.  

“See them?” Sam whispered.  

“Yes,” he heard back.  

Sam turned towards the window so that the reflection gave him a clear view of Max, and the striking redhead with him. Suddenly they stood up and moved towards the other end of the car.

*Nadia*

Nadia could not believe it. He had found her. Everything she had done to hide–all the way on the other side of the globe–and the least technically savvy Neanderthal in the world had found her. Bastard. She had been meticulous in her planning but didn’t expect to have to play along with Mr-No-Brains-All-Muscle. And she would probably ruin her new shoes in the process–that was unforgivable. Max touched her arm to get her attention. 

“What?” she said.  “And don’t you dare touch me!” 

“Calm down. The girl next to us is watching–play nice.” 

Nadia tried to put a pleasant look on her face. “She wouldn’t be watching us if you hadn’t dressed like a slob, and,” she sniffed. “Showered. That girl can’t possibly speak Russian.” 

“You never know,” he shrugged.

Nadia’s bag moved and she dipped her hand in to quiet the kitten. “One of his kittens, why?” 

“Because it was handy.” 

“Ouch!” Nadia’s efforts had resulted in a nip of her fingers and a long scratch. The woman had looked up when Nadia yelped, which only made Max glower more. 

“Why did you come find me – what could I possibly do to help you?” 

“You are my protection,” Max said.  

“From what?” 

“From the people who are after Viktor.”  

The Metro stopped and people shuffled off and on, but Nadia wasn’t paying attention.  She was fuming and felt trapped. No one should be allowed to do this to her. The Metro popped out of the tunnel and the sudden sunshine caught everyone’s attention. 

“Put the bag down,” Max said.  

“Why?”

“Only Viktor knows.”

As the Metro approached another tunnel Max jerked her up and pulled her towards the other end of the car. The car was pretty full, so Nadia got her fair share of glares and “Oofs” as she snaked her way after Max. The car came to a stop and the doors opened, and Max pulled her out of the car and on to the platform. 

*Sam*

“Go!” Sam heard in his ear.

He bolted across the car and through the closing doors. How did Robin get out ahead of him? When they had first sat down on the Metro, he had glanced at the girl chatting on her phone. His jaw figuratively dropped. It took a couple extra beats because he hardly recognized her–the last time he had seen her was a million miles away, literally and figuratively. He stared straight ahead, not wanting her to recognize him.  He was so busy not being noticed he completely missed Robin’s quick exit.  He had jumped out of his skin when she yelled, “Go,” in his ear, and he hated that.

*Nadia*

“Why did you just yank me out of the train?” Nadia had moved from annoyed to irate. 

“I saw two get on at the last stop that we need to avoid.” 

“I thought you said that this was a simple drop?” Although when Max had said so earlier, Nadia knew he was lying. 

“It is, but it will only stay simple if we avoid certain people.” 

Max started walking and then stopped in his tracks when he felt her tug on his jacket. “What?” He spun around. 

He was completely taken by surprise when he heard the thwack of a hard slap across his face.  “What the hell was that for?” He said through clenched teeth. 

“Because I hate you!” she spat back.

Max glanced around the crowded metro platform and all the attention they were now getting. “You stupid bitch,” he growled, and shoved her hard towards the escalators. Nadia continued to fight back, when she felt someone bump her hard from behind. 

“What’s going on here?” Nadia turned her head and caught sight of a well-dressed woman, clearly intent on rescuing her. Max instantly dropped his hands and released her. 

“I will find you,” Max spat in Russian, and turned and fled.

Someone Nadia hadn’t noticed before, a clean-cut young guy, took off after Max. 

“Come with me,” the woman said. “I promise we’ll take care of you.”

*Sam*

Sam bolted after Max. The commuter crowds in the station were not helping. He stopped for a second to see if he could get a better sense of where Max went. Another Metro pulled up to the platform, and commuters buzzed around him getting on and off. He looked up and down the train and caught a glimpse of Max a couple doors down. Sam darted and dodged as best he could and was almost at the door as it shut. Dammit dammit dammit! The only time the Metro was timely was when he needed it to be slow. He looked up and locked eyes with Max as the train pulled away, catching a glimpse of his smirk and his middle finger salute. Apparently, a universal greeting.

*Nadia*

“My name is Robin,” the woman said as she smoothly flashed a badge at the sleepy metro employee and pushed through the gate.  “And you are…” 

“Allison. Allison Simpson.” 

“Okay Allison, we’re headed this way.”  Robin pushed into a nondescript office building and ushered Nadia into an elevator from the bright and well-polished lobby.  Robin used her badge to swipe the reader in the elevator and pushed the button for the 8th floor.  

Interesting, Nadia thought.  In her country, people who wanted to ‘take care of her’ by escorting her somewhere never took her to a building this nice. And they certainly didn’t look like Robin.  Nadia had to admit she was stunning, almost exotic looking, and impeccably dressed. 

The doors opened on an unnumbered floor, to a hallway with lots of closed and non-descript doors.  Ah, now this was looking more familiar, thought Nadia.  Robin picked one of the several unlabeled doors and waved her badge over another reader. They entered a room with a table and chairs, and of course, no windows or other identifiable characteristics. 

 “Would you like a coffee, Allison?” Robin asked.  

“Yes, black please.” 

“If you could give me your purse, for a quick look?” 

“Of course.” Nadia had nothing to hide. All that was in her purse was a phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss. Her IDs and credit cards all said Allison Simpson. 

“Let me keep your phone for now, and I’ll be right back with the coffee,” and she disappeared out of the door they entered through, the lock clicking. Nadia was not surprised. 

*Robin*

Robin swiped into another door in the hallway which opened into an open plan office, and made a beeline for her cubicle, one of the only ones with family pictures and actual living plants.  Robin had lived and worked in a lot of places in her life and insisted on making every new space her own. She grabbed a couple coffee pods out of her stash, two cups, and headed to the kitchenette. 

Sam came in the door looking winded. “I lost him.” 

“Figured,” Robin said. 

“I tried to catch up to the metro at the next stop but no joy. Metro is running without delays today. Weird.” 

“You tried to run to the next stop?”

“Sure.  It’s not that far and metros are slow. At least usually. You taking that coffee to the girl?” 

“You mean woman? Yes, and while I chat with her why don’t you connect with the night crew and figure out where we should go look for Max. Also, we need to find the woman sitting next to them.” 

“Who?” Sam said, avoiding her eyes.

“Young, white, five feet, eight inches, fit, khaki pants, peach sweater, knock-off Tori Burch flats? You didn’t see her?” 

He sighed. “I saw her, and I think I know her.” 

“Oh really? Do tell!” Robin wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Some former fling?” 

“Not exactly–she was deployed to the same place I was a couple years ago.” 

“I thought you were a special ops behind enemy lines kinda guy. What would she be doing there? Medical? USAID? Opening those units to women hadn’t happened yet.” 

“It’s a long story.” 

Hmmmmm, she was going to love this. Getting to needle Sam, who thought she was slow and out of date, would be awesome. 

“I’ll be in with Allison slash Nadia; you get cracking on finding Max and our mystery woman.” 

*Sam*

Sam wound his way to his desk, past Robin’s fussy desk to his own, which if not for a crusty and chipped coffee cup, would look unoccupied. He liked it that way–clear of clutter and easy to evacuate from. He pulled his lap top out of his backpack, snapped it into the docking station, and stuck his ID card in the reader. 

The night crew would be down for a few more hours, so Sam decided to start with Jo.  He was curious to see how the Army soldier he met in Afghanistan morphed into who he saw on the Metro.  

Let’s start with Google. He typed in Jo Campbell, Joanne Campbell, Josephine Campbell...he couldn’t remember what Jo was short for. He got a few Facebook, Twitter and other social media hits, but nothing seemed to pop. If Jo had accounts, she used handles that didn’t make it obvious who she was. He dove into the usual law enforcement databases, searching all the variations of her name but still nothing obvious popped. Weird. Snippets of memories were coming back to him. Didn’t Jo have a sister? Sally something? Sam googled Sally Campbell and instantly got a ton of hits. Sam clicked the link Senator Ben Wilson’s Son to Marry Local Girl from the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Unexpected and interesting. His favorite. 

Ben Wilson, Jr, son of Senator Ben Wilson, Sr (R-Connecticut) and Mrs. Suzanne Wilson of Washington, D.C., is engaged to wed Sally Francine Campbell, daughter of Molly Campbell and the late Saunders Dillion of Union Hill. The bride-elect is a 2009 graduate of Armstrong High School and a 2013 graduate of the University of Richmond. She is employed as a hostess at the Willow Oaks Country Club. The bridegroom-elect is a 2011 graduate of the University of Connecticut and a 2014 graduate of the University of Richmond School of Law. He is currently taking time off to study for the bar and plans to practice in Washington, D.C. A wedding is planned for September 1st at the National Cathedral in Washington D.C. followed by a reception at the Congressional Country Club.

Interesting, thought Sam. He googled some more and found Sally’s Facebook and Instagram pages. Tsk, tsk Sally, you really should be careful what you post. Sam skimmed through the posts, looking for some reference to Jo. No such luck. All Sally posted about was her fiancé or her wedding, or any combo of the two. Her mother Molly was tagged a couple times, so Sam followed the links to see what he could find. 

“So happy for my Sweet Girl Jo–graduated from Georgetown today!” 

Jackpot! Still no link to any account of Jo’s, but maybe the Georgetown link could help. He googled all the combos of Jo’s first name and Georgetown and finally, finally, got a hit on a small article with her picture and her name: 

Joanne C. Dillon, graduate of the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service, high honors and winner of the Louis McCahill Award. 

Huh.  Wonder why she is using Dillion now? Sam was ninety-nine percent sure she went by Campbell in the Army.  And Georgetown?  He knew Jo was smart–she always had her shit together–but jeez, this was surprising. Sam laughed to himself. Everything about Jo was surprising.