The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 13

Frank was never one to sleep late. For him, time was a valuable commodity, and it was important to make as much use of it as possible. But this morning was different, and with the chilly air surrounding him, he found another sensation pulling him from sleep. Sitting up, he noticed the strong smell of bacon lingering in the air, coupled with the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen. Getting up from the couch, he wrapped the sleeping bag around him

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in an effort to stave off the cold and, staggering to the kitchen, was surprised to see Ava cooking breakfast. What surprised him more was that he didn’t remember buying bacon.

“What’s all this?” he said.

Ava continued preparing what seemed like a king’s meal as she replied to Frank.

“Tell me something,” she began. “Why didn’t you come to bed with me last night?”

She wasn’t angry but was curious as to why he had slept on the couch when he knew how much she wanted him.

“You don’t remember?” he asked. “You passed out last night. You got up to leave and could barely walk. If I hadn’t moved so quickly, you would have ended up on the floor. You were in no condition for fun and games, so I thought it was better to just let you sleep it off.”

Ava had not been with many men, but by her experience, it was rare to find someone who had standards—a moral code. In her eyes, Frank might truly turn out to be her soul mate—the one. But she would keep this impression to herself so as not to scare him off. There were still many things she didn’t know about him—his parents' names, siblings, where he went to school, and what his childhood was like. Hearing his response lit the spark of the romantic in her, and as breakfast cooked, she walked around the kitchen table, threw her arms around him, and kissed him deeply.

“Do you know how many guys would’ve done what you did?” she asked. “I’ve dated some real losers -- guys who give the impression of being complete

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gentlemen, then turn out to be assholes. But that’s not you, is it?”

Frank smiled as he pulled her in, and while she tucked the side of her face into his chest, a rather sinister thought occurred to him. If she only knew the person he was becoming, what his goals were, and what he might have to do to attain them. She might see him as a psychopath, a monster, someone with delusions of grandeur, someone to avoid. Certainly, she would not be placing herself in such a susceptible position. But as long as Ava was willing to get this close, he would enjoy it and never tell her the truth about what he wanted in life.

An extravagant meal was something Frank was not accustomed to. Although the scholarship he received paid for everything, including living expenses, he was forced to budget carefully, and most of the time food was purchased at a slight shortage. The breakfast that lay sprawled out in front of him seemed unnecessarily large, and as the bacon continued cooking, he asked about the amount Ava had purchased.

“The fact is,” she began. “I make good money teaching, and you’re a first student. The way I see it is, you need this, and you probably can’t afford to buy a lot of food. So, I decided to treat you. Is that okay?”

Frank was stunned. Outside of his parents, he could not remember anyone doing anything for him. Now, here was this woman who really didn’t know much about him preparing a meal that would likely feed a family of four. He was not only thankful but impressed.

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“I think that's great,” he replied. “And it smells really good.”

With an arm around her waist, they walked over to the kitchen table where Ava had already set out most of the morning meal—orange juice, waffles with maple syrup, blueberries, grapes, and melon wedges. Still on the stove were bacon and hash browns. The smell was glorious, and leaning down to where the bacon was still frying, Frank took in the aroma as his mouth began watering. This was going to be a fantastic start to what would hopefully be an equally fantastic day.

“I think we’re going to have a few leftovers,” he said.

Having also been a student at one time, Ava was very aware of what college ate, and the amount of food she had purchased was by intent. “Well,” she began. “The leftovers are for you, right?”

It was about that time when the smell of burning bacon began to permeate the air, and hurrying to rescue what Ava felt was the best part of the meal, she turned off the burner. Transferring the sizzling strips of pork to a nearby plate, she turned her attention to the hash browns and, deciding that they were done, removed them from the stove as well. “Let me know if the bacon is too burned, okay?” she asked.

Burned or not, Frank would eat like there was no tomorrow and wasn’t about to complain about a bit of charred meat. Having grown up in the Midwest, his family always had access to fresh bacon as well as other meats. But it had been some time since he had been able to eat anything close to fresh. As they

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sat down to eat, he made it a point to first try the bacon. Nothing was better than fresh bacon, and taking his first bite, realized that it was, indeed, fresh. He was stunned. Outside of a few politicians, there weren’t many places in DC where one could find pigs.

“Where did you get this?” he asked. Ava had been living in DC for several years and knew the town intimately. If there was something she wanted, she knew where to get it, and if it was bacon, she knew which butcher to go to. “There’s a butcher a few blocks from here,” she replied. “Everything he sells comes from farms. Sometimes someone will bring in a whole pig or a few rabbits—they go fast. So he cuts them up in the back of his shop.

There aren’t many butchers in DC, so this guy probably makes a shit ton of money as a butcher.” They ate like pigs—or, perhaps, politicians. Yet, when they were finished, there was still plenty left, and Ava, being the gracious chef, helped Frank wrap up the leftovers and organize them in his refrigerator. Slowly, they made their way to the living room and sat on the couch. Too stuffed to do anything but sit, Frank and Ava engaged in small talk, beginning with his appreciation for the meal she had prepared. “Ava,” he began. “Thank you so much for all of this. I’m not much of a cook, so I can’t imagine doing this myself. Thank you.”

She turned towards him and kissed him gently on the lips, whispering only two words. You’re welcome.

With stomachs heavy and minds drifting, the two shortly laid down on the couch and fell asleep

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together. A few hours later, it was Ava who woke first, and remembering the reason for their date nudged Frank to wakefulness.

“Hey,” she began. “Come on, wake up. We have to go.”

Rising from a deep morning rest, Frank stretched and groaned as both body and mind came back to life. “What?” he asked. “Where are we going?” It was ten o'clock, but in spite of the earliness of the hour, Ava knew that touring the National Archives would be time-consuming and wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“We’re going to the archives, remember?” she replied.

Taking a deep breath, he stood and, grabbing his coat, headed for the door.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Now I remember.” But something suddenly stood in the way. As he passed Ava on his way to the door, a waft of body odor drifted behind him, attacking Ava’s senses. She stopped him immediately.

“Wait a minute,” she began. “Let me be really honest. You stink.”

Frank stopped and, raising an arm, turned his nose towards his shoulder as he tried to detect the odor for himself.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked.

Sniffing at his armpit, he jerked his head back, repulsed by the stench that rose up to assault his senses.

“Oh,” he said. “Holy fuck. I need a shower.” As he walked to the bedroom to obtain a clean set of clothes, he turned back to Ava and requested that she join him.

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“If I do, we’ll never get to the archives,” she said. “There’ll be time for that later. But right now, we need to get going. So this needs to be the fastest shower you’ve ever taken, okay?” Frank was looking forward to spending the night with her but also wanted very much to see the archives, and knowing they would likely be intimate later, headed off to the shower. Five minutes later, he returned clean and fully dressed.

“That was quick,” Ava said.

Retrieving his keys and coat, he headed toward the door where Ava was waiting, and opening it hesitated.

“We’re going, right?” he asked.

Ava had never thought of him as being excitable and was surprised to see him demonstrating such childlike exuberance. But there was something missing, something she was quick to point out. “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked. Stepping closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. His excitement suddenly waned as he realized what she was referring to. “Oh,” he replied. “How could I forget?” He brought his hands up and gently holding her face, they pressed their bodies together as they shared a morning kiss. With a slight distance from each other, Frank looked into her eyes as Ava’s long, curly blonde hair fell over his hands.

“You are such an angel, you know that?” he said. Now he felt himself being swept up in something he did not expect. A simple night in bed was one thing but what he was feeling was something he was trying to avoid and didn’t know quite how to deal with it.

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Such an emotional compliment left Ava with a smile as she gave the only response she could think of. “I know. But we need to go.”

Throwing on his coat, he opened the door and, letting Ava down the stairs, first noticed something odd about her.

“Hey,” he began. “How come you don’t smell?” Ava’s retort was a demonstration of both a quick mind and a sense of humor.

“I’m a girl,” she replied. “Us girls don’t stink. Didn’t you know that?”

Holding the rail, she turned to him slightly, waiting for a response.

“Okay,” he answered. “Mental note: girls don’t smell in the morning. Who would have known?” Leaving the building, Ava unlocked her car and, climbing in, reached over and unlocked the passenger’s door. As soon as he was belted in, they started off for the National Archives. Frank’s studies left him too busy to tour DC alone, so he was grateful that Ava was willing to show him such wonderful places. For him, the archives was the perfect place to visit, as it appealed to his appreciation for history. In time, Frank would discover that DC as well as its outlying areas were brimming with history. As they pulled into the parking lot, he was already considering exploring them during the brief time he would have during the summer.

Walking around to the front of the building, Frank saw Pennsylvania Avenue stretched out in front of him. For a moment, he thought of the people he knew back home—both former students and adults.

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How many of them would ever get the chance to see such wonderful places as the National Archives or the Library of Congress? He did appreciate the solitude of small town living, but the opportunity to step into living history was so much more attractive, especially when accompanied by an equally attractive woman. Before turning into the main walk, Frank stopped and stared down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of another famous landmark. Seeing his curiosity, Ava immediately knew what he was looking for.

“Looking for the White House?” Ava asked. Pennsylvania Avenue wasn’t some small side street. In fact, it ran through a large portion of the DC area. “You’re not going to see it from here,” she continued. “It’s way down. We can go there too if you want.”

Frank was overjoyed. The idea of standing in front of the nation’s seat of power was so strong that he developed goose bumps.

Approaching the archives façade Frank quickly noticed the building’s architecture with marble steps meeting evenly spaced Greco-Roman columns across the front. Just beyond were the double doors leading into the rotunda. Frank’s head could have been on a swivel as he paused looking in every direction. The design of the rotunda was a work of art with no comparison. In the middle was the map pointing out different research rooms. The fact that the archives was more than one floor made exploring it that much more confusing. Ava, however, had been there before and serving as tour guide posed one question.

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“So,” she said. “What are you interested in?” It was strange how such a simple question could be so cryptic under the circumstances and given his interest in history didn’t seem to make his decision any easier. After all, the National Archives is the country’s depository for all things historic. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I’ve always been drawn to American history but now I’m standing in the middle of it. Any suggestions?”

Ava knew exactly where to take him and given his interest she pointed the place out on the map. “How about the research center?” she began. “You can look up records on your family history – if they’re here. Wait, I know.”

With Frank’s interest in mind she decided to show him what she believed to be the most important area of the archives.

Referencing the map, Ava gained her bearings and taking him by the arm they walked at a modest pace until arriving at ‘The Charters of Freedom’. Here were three documents critical to the development of the country’s foundation: the Declaration of Independence, The Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. All three documents were authentic and kept in vacuum sealed, environmentally regulated frames. Frank stood examining them with the eye of an artist, noticing how one section was faded yet another was clear and easily readable. It seems that time had not been kind to what the founding fathers had taken so much thought in piecing together. From the education he had received thus far Frank was aware that the Bill of Rights serves to define the citizens’ and states’ rights in relation to the

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government. The Constitution, overall, is what defines the framework of the Federal government. The Declaration of Independence, however, services as an expression of the ideas the nation was founded on as well as the cause for separation from Great Britain. Some fanatics not seeing it for its true purpose and value might consider it a declaration of war opening the floodgates for a near losing battle with Britain. Leaning towards Ava, Frank offered a small history lesson.

“Did you know,” he began. “If the French didn’t get involved, we would’ve lost the revolutionary war.” Ava seemed stunned. This was obviously a point of history she had not been aware of. “Are you serious?” she asked. “What about George Washington and his troops? I thought they won the war.”

Frank felt compelled to offer a correction, telling her that Washington’s men were starving and suffering from malnutrition and frostbite. The French, however, had their eyes on the war from nearly the beginning and, with a deep hatred of Britain, decided to intervene. Parking their ships off the coast of the colonies, they shelled the British into submission, with the last skirmish of the war taking place on the outskirts of Johnstown, New York. While history records these events, not many people read history and therefore learn nothing. With this willful ignorance, Frank believed that the country and its people were incapable of advancing forward into the new Age of Enlightenment he saw as being desperately needed. And if the people of this country were unwilling to govern themselves, then someone would have to do it for them—rights be damned.

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Standing in front of these documents, Frank was reminded of what this country should have been, but seeing what it had become reminded him of the occasional necessity that one should rule, not lead. He had experienced an epiphany of sorts, realizing that people are, by and large, sheep prone to violence and that the only way to get sheep into the corral was to kill just enough of them that the rest move. He found himself struck by the harshness of this thought, but life is harsh; reality is far more so. What he needed to do was read up on a different branch of history, and he could think of only one.