'Nobody is.'
'I would think the Messiah would be pretty damn close to perfect, wouldn't you?'
Jim looked at the photo of Mark. No, the guy wasn't perfect, that was for certain. Someone who was accused of being the next Jesus wouldn't have the temper that Taylor had shown on more than one occasion. Most of all, he would have had the power to prevent 9/11.
'I'm just giving you a hard time. However, it is important that I reach him. With his name all over the news, he could be in jeopardy.' He traced a pencil line around the photo, darkening the edges.
'You mean his status as your asset?'
Jim would never acknowledge that kind of question, but he couldn't stop her from guessing. 'I mean, there are a lot of nuts out there. I'm concerned about his well-being and if there's anything I can do to help keep him safe, well, I guess I owe it to him.'
'Unfortunately, you're a little late on that.'
The pencil traced through the paper. 'What do you mean?' Had something happened and he hadn't been notified? He had contacts in the Chicago P.D. and other places. Someone should have informed him.
'He had a run in with some cult. He's okay, just a few cuts and a concussion, but it wasn't a good situation.'
'What the hell happened?'
Jim rubbed his forehead as she related the details. Just what he needed, a loose-cannon asset who thought he could save the world all by himself.
The minor saves took longer than he'd anticipated because someone would recognize him on the street and try to question him. Mark tried to be polite, but he was sure that many of the people were left in no doubt that there was nothing saint-like about him after the encounters.
He entered the studio through the back door, shutting it in the face of another reporter. The smell of burgers made his stomach growl, and he hurried into the office.
'Hey Mark. I hope you haven't eaten because I ordered you a burger from next door. With your fan club camped outside the studio, I thought I'd save you the hassle of wading through them to get dinner.' Lily lifted a bag from her desk, the scent wafting to him hinted of a side of fries.
Mark gleefully rubbed his hands together and took the bag. 'Thanks. I'm starving! I didn't have time for lunch.' He reached in and popped a fry in his mouth. It was hot and greasy with just the right amount of salt. Pure heaven.
Lily nodded and pulled out her top drawer, rummaging around for a few seconds before shutting it. She gave a delayed, 'You're welcome,' while lifting a stack of photos. She checked the spot beneath them, and did the same with the appointment book, her brows knit together. 'Do you see the spare keys lying around here somewhere?'
Mark set his burger down, and rolled his chair back to check under the desks, then stood and turned in a circle, scanning the floor and the top of his own desk. 'Nope. When did you have them last?'
'I can't remember.' Lily put her hands on her hips in exasperation. 'Where could they have gone? I was going to lock them in my desk drawer. I don't put it past one of those reporters out there getting it in their head to sneak in and bug the office or something when nobody is around.'
'Bug the office?' He couldn't help laughing. 'Isn't that just a little paranoid?' He sat and resumed eating his burger.
She crossed her arms. 'That's easy for you to say. You've been gone all day and haven't had to deal with keeping the pack at bay.'
'Sorry.' He swallowed. 'I'm sure the keys will turn up.'
She sighed. 'Yeah, I hope so.'
He dipped a fry in ketchup and ate it, thinking back and vaguely recalled using them a few weeks ago when he'd left his own keys in his kitchen and used the spare keys to lock up rather than run up to get his own. It's possible that he left them up in his loft. 'I think maybe they're upstairs.'
'Oh, okay. Well, as long as you have them.'
'So, how did the interview with Judy go?'
Lily's brow furrowed. 'Strange.'
Mark paused with the burger half-way to his mouth. 'Strange? How?'
'I don't know. I just…sensed that she really wasn't all that interested in coming to work here.' Lily turned in her chair and began re-organizing her desk. Everything had a place, and she knew exactly where it all went.
Mark was always amazed at how organized she was. It was at total odds to the edgy look she preferred. 'Could she have changed her mind and just didn't know how to tell you?'
She shrugged. 'Possibly.' In less than a minute, her desk was in perfect order. 'So, are you done for the day?'
Full, he pushed his wrappers away. 'Pretty much. I thought I'd tackle some photo editing this evening. I'm almost caught up, then I have to develop my other film.'
Lily shook her head. 'No.'
'Excuse me?'
'Mark, when was the last time you had a night off? A night to just relax and not think about anything?'
He scratched the back of his neck. 'I don't know.' Probably before Jessie had left, but he didn't share the thought with Lily.
She tilted her head, her expression softening. 'You've been really stressed with all of this attention lately, and you haven't even had a chance to recover from your concussion. Will the world end if you don't develop your film tonight and just got a good night's rest for once?'
'I'm fine, Lily.'
'So you say, but it couldn't hurt to take it easy tonight. Aren't you a classic film geek? I saw a commercial for some old black and white movie on tonight. I think Jimmy Stewart was in it.'
It sounded tempting. Really tempting and, as though to seal the deal, he was overtaken by a monster yawn.
Lily smiled and raised her eyebrows.
'Fine. You don't have to convince me anymore. I'll see you tomorrow.' Mark gathered his trash and deposited it in the garbage can. Now that he was on his way to his loft, the fatigue that he'd kept at bay by sheer willpower swept through him. Maybe he'd just go straight to bed. He glanced at his watch. It was only seven o'clock, but he was beat. Before he could put the plan into motion, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and groaned, wanting to ignore it, but knew he couldn't. He'd agreed to this arrangement.
'Hello, Jim.'
'Why aren't you carrying the phone I issued you? I tried calling you earlier.'
Mark entered the loft and kicked his shoes off. 'Now you're starting to sound like my mother. Yeah. I guess I forgot to grab it this morning. I had a lot on my mind.' He refused to apologize – not when he'd never wanted the damn secure phone to begin with.
'Yes, I saw that. All the more reason to keep the other phone handy. You're supposed to avoid attracting attention. I would hardly call this article as keeping a low profile.'
'I had nothing to do with the article. I spoke briefly to the reporter, but I told her nothing that she didn't already know.' He eased down on the couch and let out a sigh as he relaxed. His back was still sore from yesterday's adventure.
'Why didn't you tell her to forget the story?'
'Listen, Jim, the last time I checked, the press had the right to free speech, or is that is that not true anymore?'
Jim was silent for so long, Mark pulled the cell from his ear and checked to make sure they were still connected. He knew it still rankled Jim that judicial process hadn't been followed with the enemy combatant thing, but Mark didn't care. It was nothing compared to the anger he'd been forced to bury away.
'Nobody is talking about taking away any rights. It's not even about free speech, it's about maintaining
