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The Real Deal	By : Gallivant Category: M through R > Red Eye Views: 3200 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Red Eye. I am not making any money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Novelli
It all seemed so surreal.
Lisa could barely believe that in the short time since she had last seen Officer Kirk Novelli, she had been threatened repeatedly by psychopathic assassins, evaded capture and certain death by a man dead-set it seemed on murdering America's next president, been witness to a great deal of gruesome bloodletting and loss of life, and in spite of all of this, had likely fallen in love with the one man she had once feared above all others.
Novelli seemed similarly perturbed, though for markedly different reasons, and was more than a little wild-eyed and twitchy throughout his meeting over dinner with both Lisa and Jackson.
Luckily Novelli had been visiting his 'folks' in New York, so the drive to Cape Cod, where they had elected to meet, was really not too onerous a journey. They chose to dine at a traditional-style seafood restaurant, which to Novelli's immense satisfaction also served meatier fare.
After dispatching his steak and fries with what seemed to Lisa to be undue haste, Novelli spent the remainder of their meeting listening attentively, arms folded against his chest, lips tightly pursed, as Lisa, with the occasional interjection from Jackson, related the entire sequence of events from when she had left Miami, to here. To now.
Jackson toyed aimlessly with his food, his eyes occasionally flicking to Novelli, who in turn, eyed Jackson with unguarded suspicion throughout.
Novelli only interrupted Lisa the one time to signal to a waitress for a refill of his coffee. Once Lisa had finished speaking, he heaved a sigh, then proceeded to overload his drink with four brown sugar cubes. He disconsolately stirred his coffee, his teaspoon clinking loudly against the sides of his china cup.
Finally he spoke, puffing out his cheeks first and exhaling deeply.
'Boy oh boy. That's a lot of heavy shit you've got going on there.'
Lisa flushed a little. She frowned at Jackson, who was smirking.
'You see then why we could do with your help?' Lisa asked tentatively.
Novelli's twinkling brown-eyed gaze was a penetrating one. Lisa suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. Had she done the right thing to turn to this guy? After all. He was right. This was heavy shit. In so many ways. Why would he possibly want to get involved?
Novelli seemed to be lost in thought. 'You know, by rights I should be frog-marching your friend here,' and he gestured to Jackson, 'down to the nearest police department ... if what you tell me is true?'
'Every fucking word,' Jackson said, a bitter snarl on his face. He didn't like the direction of the police officer's thinking one little jot. Lisa shot him a warning look, then smiled winningly at Novelli.
'Which means,' she said, emphatically, desperate to force the deal, 'Jackson can help you guys out.'
'Come on Novelli,' Jackson urged. 'With all the shit I know, you and your fellow officers will be thinking Christmas has come early.' He fixed Novelli with a smarmy grin. Novelli seemed to recoil a little.
'So you're saying you want some kind of protection in return,' Novelli said ponderously.
Jackson's face darkened. 'Not just some kind,' he sniffed. 'Very specific, very secure kinds of protection. And for Lisa too.'
Novelli's face twisted a little at this. He smiled, a strange, pitying smile.
'Oh Miss Reisert. How did you ever get yourself into this mess?' he said.
'Well I have,' she said bluntly. 'And I'm pleading with you, to help me get out of it.'
XXXXXXXXXXX
Outside, the dusky sky was inky-blue. The inn where they had dined was a short walk from a small harbor, where a cluster of boats bobbed uneasily in choppy waters, bumping and crashing, the occasional bell jangling in the violent breeze.
'Not a night for a romantic stroll,' Jackson said in dry, laconic tones. He pulled his jacket close around him, as a defence against the increasingly biting wind.
'Novelli said they're expecting a big storm in the next few days. Along the entire Eastern seaboard,' Lisa remarked. She huddled close to Jackson, unable to suppress a cold shiver which chilled through her.
They started walking, at a brisk pace, away from the inn, towards their parked Subaru. Lisa was a lot less confident using the Subaru now they were so close to Boston, but Jackson said it'd do for a few more days. Which, all being well, was all they needed.
XXXXXXXXXX
They were staying at a small, low-key motel with pretensions to prettiness which had faded to tawdry over the years. Jackson had paid in cash, and the broad-faced landlady with gappy front teeth and a hairdo resembling an overgrown marmalade cat recently stricken with mange, had asked no questions, expressing minimal curiosity as to why they had chosen to visit this particular neck of the woods, dressed in smart working suits, amidst such inclement weather conditions.
The room was sparsely furnished, dominated by a flimsily-constructed pinewood four-poster bed, adorned with a grayish-white frilly comforter, seemingly made of finest polyester, which cruelly chafed the skin, as Lisa and Jackson soon discovered. They had proceeded to 'christen' the room, as Lisa had rather euphemistically described their frantic lovemaking, within the first ten minutes of arrival, finding to their cost, an hour or so later, that their skin was pink and sore from friction burns.
Jackson suggested they spread De Bowen's ghastly fur cloak over the comforter instead. At least it made for a softer landing.
They needed to talk about Novelli. Their plans. Their concerns. But neither really wanted to, preferring to string out the next few hours without worries, without news.
XXXXXXXXX
Lisa realized the next day that it had probably been a mistake not to discuss upcoming events with Jackson at the motel. Not that she'd minded the alternative, although she felt as though every muscle in her body was aching. But conversation with Jackson was always somewhat stilted when they were driving she found. Particularly now, when Jackson's already heightened sense of vigilance was being stretched thin, Lisa thought, by their perilous circumstances.
And the strain was increasingly apparent on his face, which was more pallid than usual. The thin sprinkling of freckles dashed across his cheekbones, were starker than ever before.
Novelli had called this morning with good news it seemed. He had made a tactful approach to the Keefe campaign, speaking directly with the main man himself, once it was established his reason for contacting Keefe was a security issue. This preliminary inquiry had born fruit quicker than they could have hoped.
Clearly Keefe was pretty shook up by the death of Talbot Haynes, Lisa guessed, hence he had agreed to talks with Novelli as soon as possible. Preferably face to face.
Novelli had advised Lisa and Jackson to rapidly head South. Keefe was attending a three-day conference at some swanky country club hotel in Maryland – some place near Annapolis. Novelli was set to meet him there, and even sounded a little thrilled at the prospect. This was probably the greatest adventure of his life, Lisa thought wryly.
It was hoped that Novelli would quickly open lines of communication between Keefe and Lisa … with Jackson the prize … the bounty.
He was the one who really counted in all of this. And they all knew it.
Certainly Jackson had not expected such a swift result, and the tight lines around his mouth indicated to Lisa that he was not entirely happy with this arrangement either, viewing it as an unwelcome but necessary evil.
She, however, was desperate for something, anything, resembling security, protection, and was glad that Keefe had recognized her plight and had shifted into action so quickly.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Several hours later, Lisa was jolted awake as Jackson finally pulled the Subaru into a parking lot outside a motel close to the outskirts of Annapolis. She had been dozing on and off for a substantial part of their journey, and was now nursing a sore neck as she had lolled uncomfortably against the window for most of that time, bending her head at an awkward angle.
'Where are we?' she groaned, feeling a little hung-over from this sudden rude awakening. She tried to gather her thoughts, mindful of the sudden stabbing hunger pangs gnawing at her gut.
Jackson had already exited the Subaru, his holdall in hand, and was striding purposefully towards reception.
Lisa grimaced inwardly. She could see that Jackson was all business, which was all well and good, as long as his idea of getting down to things involved a slap-up meal, preferably at the adjoining Rib Shack which looked to be a mercifully short thirty second walk, door to door.
XXXXXXXXX
Luckily Jackson's plans did incorporate eating. Novelli called again, just as Lisa was scaling an impossibly large spare rib, dripping with a sticky brown goo which tasted like molten lollipops. Not that she was complaining, and was even amused at Jackson's peeved scowl as she smeared sauce on the cell phone Novelli had given them, for the sole purpose of quick, easy and, most crucially, secure communications.
'Can you get to an Internet connection?' Novelli asked. There was a vague tremor to his voice which alarmed her.
'Internet?' Lisa asked. Jackson nodded. 'Sure. I think so,' she said.
'You … you might wanna snatch a peek at what the Miami media's been saying about you,' Novelli said in grim tones.
'Aboutme?' Lisa screeched. Oh shit. Oh shit.
'Yeah. Looks like the papers have caught wind of how you've gone missing – and they're making the connection to your artist buddy's murder too.'
'Charley?'
But of course. Charley enjoyed a certain minor celebrity, in and around Miami. Her recent successes in the art world hadn't gone unnoticed. It was only natural that her murder had been covered by the local news.
Lisa was worried that these news events might spark renewed interest in the attempted assassination of Keefe at her hotel. That was not the kind of coverage she wanted right now when she was set to beg for Keefe's help, both for herself and the guy who'd tried to kill him.
Jackson was clearly listening attentively to this conversation, and his face was rapidly darkening.
'Your friend was quite the character from what I gather. Darned shame,' Novelli said. 'If you're right about this Buchanan guy having whacked her, then I'm only too glad to try and nail him.'
Lisa raised an eyebrow in surprise. If she was right? Did this mean Novelli didn't, as yet, wholly believe them?
An unsettling trickle of queasy fear iced her insides. Something didn't feel right.
But it was too late to change course. Novelli had set the wheels in motion. They were all but uncovered and ready, it seemed, to meet with Keefe tomorrow.
Novelli told them to wait for his call before visiting Keefe themselves at Drummonds Country Club.
XXXXXXXXXX
'Hey Lise, come on. Fretting about this business isn't going to change anything,' Jackson said. He slipped a protective arm around her shoulders and held her close, although Lisa was perfectly aware that his main aim was to coax her off the bed, to shut down his portable, and to get the hell out of the motel room so that she didn't spend any more time trawling the Internet for news and speculation on her own whereabouts.
'I can't believe what they're saying about me,' she said, gulping back a sob which had been half-choking her these last few hours – ever since she had been online.
'I mean … my own therapist. Miriam. She makes me sound like some kind of crazy. Says I was obsessed with the Keefe case. With you. That I had become paranoid and neurotic,' she sniffed, nestling herself into the crook of Jackson's arm.
However, the small, mocking smirk which lit up Jackson's face soon banished any vulnerability she might be feeling, as a burst of irritation dashed through her instead.
'You find this funny do you?' she shrieked. 'Have you thought what my poor Dad must be going through?'
Jackson instantly sobered, although his eyes were glowing with furtive merriment and a strangely seductive warmth.
'Youwere kind of hung up on the case Lisa,' he said. And then his smile was back. Broader than ever. Irrepressible. 'On me,' he added proudly. 'I mean, let's face it. Not only did you needtherapy, but you even resorted to full-on stalking.'
Lisa pouted. 'How can you be so flippant at a time like this?' she groused. 'You're a fucking egomaniac, do you know that?'
Jackson grinned. 'Sure. Which is why it really turns me on to be reminded just how much you fucking dig me. How much I affected you.'
He pulled her even closer, lip curled mischievously, twisting her around so that she was straddling his lap. He fell backwards onto the bed, pulling her across him.
'I hated you,' Lisa hissed, although her eyes were shining with sudden excitement. 'So don't go getting any big ideas.'
He pushed her skirt upwards, over her thighs, so that it was pooling around her waist, and smoothly stroked her exposed skin.
His clear blue eyes caught her in an intense mutual gaze.
'I thought you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible,' she breathed.
'I've changed my mind,' he said hoarsely, fisting his hands into her hair and pulling her face closer to his own.
XXXXXXXXXX
Lisa tentatively unraveled herself from Jackson, both still struggling for breath. They hastily rearranged their clothes. Lisa flopped into the passenger seat beside Jackson, while he pulled his seat forwards so that he was restored to a normal driving position.
Lisa pulled the hair from her face where it was clinging uncomfortably to her damp forehead. She relaxed into her seat, and closed her eyes, listening in rapture to the soaring vocals from 'Rigoletto' which Jackson had discovered that morning, stuffed into an outer pocket of his holdall. Lisa remembered how they had grabbed the CD box-set from his apartment.
It felt an age away, although in reality it was merely a matter of days.
She was suddenly acutely aware that they were being watched.
A fond smile stole across her features.
'We've got company,' she gasped.
Jackson immediately peered through her window, splattered with a fine, steady drizzle, only to find himself staring at a shaggy, brown pony, which was eyeing them curiously. The pony was standing just a few feet from them, nuzzling a grassy bank which bordered a wide tract of sandy beach. A further straggle of wild ponies were ranged across the bank, too preoccupied by feeding to pay much heed to the parked Subaru, facing the ocean.
'They seem harmless enough,' Jackson murmured.
Lisa sighed. 'This is a lovely spot.'
She gazed out at the sea, which was raging itself into a frenzied froth, lapping the shore in an ever more threatening manner. Yet somehow she felt perfectly safe. This same stormy sea, wild and brewing, had kept them company for so many miles. The Greek chorus to their unfolding narrative.
Her eyes trailed the length of the beach; pale graying sand, littered with driftwood and grim black boulders, until they alighted on a small whiteboard house, crouching against a rocky outcrop.
'That'd be a fun place to live,' she said, gesturing towards the house.
'Kind of lonely, don't you think?' Jackson scoffed. 'And probably not around for too much longer either. Haven't you heard of coastal erosion?'
'Spoilsport.'
'No. Just a realist.'
'So … what's your ideal spot then?' Lisa asked hesitantly. She held her breath. What if his dreams were so outlandish, so very different from her own?
Jackson chewed his lip thoughtfully. He slanted his eyes sideward, studying her carefully.
'This is nice,' he said, with a casual shrug.
'I thought it was too lonely? Too exposed?'
'I meant next to you,' Jackson said with a suave grin. He ducked his head towards her, glancing a kiss across her cheek.
'Smooth,' Lisa joked, although she thrilled inwardly. 'But I'm serious Jackson. If … if you're quitting your current business, what do you plan to do? Where do you want to be?'
'I'm open to suggestion.' He pondered a moment, watching the swirling white-tipped waves crest and fall with a pensive expression on his face. 'What do you want?'
You, Lisa thought. But thought better of flattering him unduly.
'I wouldn't mind a bit of traveling,' she said.
'Could be awkward.'
'I know. But there's all those art galleries you have to take me to.'
'Of course,' Jackson said, beaming. 'Now that's something I could do.'
'What's that then?'
'I could become an art critic,' he said. 'Sitting around, pontificating all day. Sounds like fun. And I'm ideally qualified. Truly committed.'
'How so?'
'Well. I genuinely do believe that art, in all its forms, is more important than real life.'
'Oh. Really?' Lisa arched a skeptical eyebrow, glad to see that he was smiling. 'That's kind of insane.'
'Not at all,' he said. 'Just think of all the super-famous imaginary characters there are, and how much they mean to so many people.'
'OK. But just because someone loves, say, Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, doesn't mean he's going to impinge on their everyday life. He's made up. A fiction. You can't meet him for real,' Lisa argued.
'Sure. But in that case, he isn't any less real, than some famous living person you see on the TV but are never likely to meet either, or the billions of flesh and blood people who share this planet who you'll never even hear of,' Jackson retorted. 'And you know what Lisa? I bet there's plenty of characters from books and films, from your favorite TV shows, who you probably know better than your own goddamned neighbors. And who you care about, a whole lot more too. Come on. Admit it.'
Lisa was stumped. Not because she agreed of course. How could she? His argument was ludicrous. But she couldn't frame a worthy response, and was relieved when he flipped back to his earlier point.
'Or … maybe I could be an art dealer?' he mused. 'That'd entail a fair bit of travelling. And maybe a bijou little gallery in some pleasant seaside town. How'd you like that?'
Lisa wasn't sure he was being serious. Something about he way he'd said bijou, with a vaguely derogatory sneer.
She'd never really know where she stood with him, she thought mournfully.
They lapsed into silence, both listening to the soaring dramatics of the soprano warbling through the car's speakers.
'Anyway. It all means jack shit if we don't get through this Keefe business,' Jackson said in a harsh, tight voice.
Lisa flashed him a reassuring smile. She didn't want to give him the remotest hint of her own growing misgivings on this matter. Keefe was their best, their only way out of this jam.
'OK. So there might be a little bit of embarrassment to start with,' she said.
Jackson spluttered angrily. 'A little bit! You gotta be kidding me. I tried to fucking kill the guy, remember?'
'Well. You failed.'
'Only thanks to you.'
As if reminded, Jackson rooted in his jacket pocket for Novelli's cell phone, checking for a signal, for what Lisa surmised was the hundredth time that day.
All this waiting was beginning to fray their nerves.
'And don't forget Lisa,' Jackson said, once he was satisfied that they were still contactable. 'The mere fact I was hired might raise a few awkward questions that I don't know the answer to.'
Lisa looked puzzled. 'It's kind of obvious Jackson. Like you said. Someone wanted to send a big, brash message and Keefe was playing hardball with the bad guys. Wanting to take on the terrorists. Face them down. And his murder would have been hugely destabilizing. It's not rocket science, you know.'
Jackson shook his head. 'No Lise. I've told you before. It takes a long time to plan these things. The hit on Keefe must have been in the works long before he ascended to the Department of Homeland Security. But it wasn't my gig, so I don't know how or why the plan got off the ground in the first place.'
'So … might it have been someone else? Some other interest group who wanted to fix things, and you were simply guns for hire?'
Jackson shrugged. 'Perhaps. Keefe once pissed off the gun lobby if I remember correctly, some years back. Wanted to pursue anti-gun laws.'
'Well, he's sure changed his tune on that one,' Lisa exclaimed in genuine surprise. Keefe was seen as fair and honest – but was far from liberal in his political leanings.
'Maybe there's something we don't know,' she said softly.
'Heck Lisa. There's a lot we don't know,' Jackson countered. 'I've more questions than answers, that's for sure.'
Their conversation was brought to a sudden halt by the shrill ringing of Novelli's cell phone.
Jackson cut the volume from the CD player. The sounds of the churning sea and the steady drumming beat of rain on their windshield, served as a backdrop to the cell phone's insistent chime.
He grabbed the phone, studying the caller display screen.
'It's him. It's Novelli.' He stared at Lisa, his eyes burning into her. 'They must be ready for us.'
OK,' she whispered.
'You … you still want to go through with this?' Jackson asked.
'Do you?'
The phone continued to ring. Incessant. Distracting.
Jackson looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he broke eye contact, his eyes flicking to the phone in irritation. He frowned deeply, jabbing his finger at the receive button, before pressing the phone to his ear.
'Novelli,' he said in a tone of weary resignation. '… Sure. We're all set at this end.'
He smiled wanly at Lisa and then looked away from her, out of his side-window, across the sands, to the little beach-house, which was being subjected to an increasingly furious assault from a barrage of steep, crashing waves.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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The Real Deal