The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 23

Returning to his apartment, Frank continued his daily routine—a brief dinner then studying. He tried to put the evening’s events out of his mind when his phone rang. Normally, he turned the ringer off while he studied so as not to be bothered, but putting it to his ear, he heard a familiar voice. “Frank?”

It was Ava. He had forgotten that he had given her his phone number, and hearing her voice, suspected he might get repeated calls from her. But in order to avoid a confrontation, he exercised both patience and attentiveness. However, he would not tolerate any escalation of what he had discovered to be some deep psychological issue. He would not be her lover, and he would not be her therapist. “What is it, Ava?” he asked.

He wanted their conversation to be brief, not just because he had work to do, but because he simply didn’t want to deal with her.

“I saw you holding her,” Ava replied. “What are you doing with her? She’s there with you, isn’t she? I swear to God, if you’re fucking her…” Frank had already had enough and, lacking patience, snapped at her.

“You’re fucking dead to me!” he said. “There’s no one else here. Even if there was, it wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. Now, you don’t call me again, got it?! You fucking stay away from me. Do you understand me?”

It was as though she had heard nothing, and continuing to rant about how much she loved him

79

forced Frank to not only hang up, but also block her number. He would later discover this to be a mistake.

He continued to study late into the night, dividing his time between textbooks and writing his paper. It was around midnight that Frank began to drift off and putting away his books and organizing his files turned in for the night. Tomorrow was Saturday, and as in every weekend, he had reserved the next two days for studying. However, he did see the need to take a break once in a while. One can only spend so much time cramming knowledge into ones head and too much of anything can lead to issues of stress.

Sleep proved to be somewhat tumultuous as the brief conversation he had with Ava rolled through his drowsing mind. Of course, the frigid January air was of no help, and Frank struggled against it using all the covers available to him. By the time morning arrived, he appeared as a chrysalis wrapping a butterfly just before its emergence and throwing off the covers, became wrapped instead by the freezing temperature of winter. He supposed he could have chosen a better place to live, but the stipend included in his scholarship offered a limited amount, forcing him to settle on what he could afford as opposed to what he wanted. As long as there were no mice creeping about, he could be satisfied with what he had. As the sweat that had built up on his skin during the night began to lose its heat, Frank grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his chilled body. Walking out into the living room, he was stopped by something unfamiliar. Stepping up to the door, he looked down to find a folded piece of paper. His first

80

thought was that Ava had made a visit during the night. But he thought it ridiculous that anyone should be out at such a late hour in inclement weather as what DC offered every winter. Picking it up, Frank unfolded it, and not much to his surprise, it was from Ava. Her handwriting resembled that of a near tranquilized psychiatric patient, and taking the note into the kitchen, he turned on the ceiling light. Examining it closer, he managed to read most of it. Ava had become far more irrational than he could ever have imagined as she ranted on about the choice he had between her and the yet-to-be named girl in the library. She seemed absolutely fixated on the image of the two of them together in a fictional relationship and was highly resentful of it. “You have no idea what you’re missing,” the letter read. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. Get rid of that cunt or both of you could find yourselves in a world of hurt.”

The letter rambled on from there with almost unreadable scribbling. This was something that Frank took as a serious threat, and sitting on the couch, considered his options. Should he take the letter to the dean? Not wanting things to get any worse, he decided to wait on that course of action until he could think of something that would not jeopardize his education. If he could only demonstrate how irrational she had become, the college administration would handle the rest. But even if she were stripped of her tenure and dismissed, she might still pursue him, possibly doing more harm than if he were to simply leave things as they were. He also considered the possibility that the young woman at the library could be pulled in as

81

well. Now, Frank felt responsible for her safety and planned to talk to her about the situation. He didn’t want to scare her, only to provide a gentle warning, hoping not to upset her. The last thing he wanted was to see her drop out of the program and run off to another college out of fear. No one has the right to scare someone to the point of terrorizing them into running away.