Page 44 of Jacking Jill

Finally, Nancy broke the silence. “What happened to Kay seven years ago, John? Paige and I found nothing on the record. And we checked everything from court cases to local police to newspapers to the damn FBI.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Kaiser got you access to something that was sealed? Is that it? Department of Justice records that were locked down so tight that Paige couldn’t even find a trace of their existence, let alone their contents?”

Benson sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, massaged his throbbing temples. He saw Nancy cast a concerned look in his direction, then knowingly flick her gaze towards Paige, who also looked concerned.

“John, if you’re still having those headaches . . .” Nancy started to say.

“I’m fine, thank you very much, Florence Nightingale,” Benson snapped, his tone sharper than intended. Or maybe not. Maybe the anger was directed at himself for how he’d handled the call with Kay Steffen.

Shit, that call was a cry for help, Benson realized as he shot a furtive glance at the phone which was still turned off. Kay was reaching out to him, to them, to Darkwater. She might not completely understand why she’d made that call, might have just done it on instinct instead of intelligence.

Following her heart instead of her head.

And Benson had turned her away.

Every head in the room was turned in Benson’s direction now as Nancy’s question about the headaches seemed to linger in the air, reverberate off the walls. He realized he’d been rubbing his temples, grinding his teeth, tapping his foot incessantly on the stiff carpet beneath the table. He glanced around at the concerned faces of his team, meeting each gaze sternly. The past couple of months ranked amongst the hardest of Benson’s life—topped only by the horrific emotional aftermath of Sally’s death on that first Darkwater mission. This challenge, however, was more physical than emotional. Benson had been injured in the field before, but being so close to that blast had rattled his cage in a way he didn’t think was possible. He’d always bounced back from injury stronger than ever, but this felt different.

Maybe he was just getting old. Maybe this was the universe reminding him that life was lived in the flesh, that your soul is eternal but your body isn’t going to last forever. The orthopedic surgeons had fixed up his leg all right. The pain was no problem, really. But the headaches hadn’t subsided at all. He knew that the force of that blast would have bounced his brain back-and-forth against the inside of his skull multiple times—each hit technically a separate concussion. He’d been ignoring the signs of post-concussion syndrome for two months now, but it was clear that nobody else was ignoring it. Benson had built his reputation in the CIA for being the coolest snake in the den, but ever since the accident, his temper flared with uncharacteristic quickness, his wisecracks carrying far more bite than before.

Maybe his judgment was compromised too.

And that was a big fucking problem.

Because Benson needed his judgment to be spot-on for Darkwater to keep winning at this pulsing, throbbing, seething game of choice and circumstance, sex and violence, fate and destiny. Every man, woman, and child in Darkwater depended on the Captain to steer this cosmic ship through the storms of serendipity, navigate the currents of chaos.

And right now it was Jack and Jill’s mission, which meant they needed him the most.

Benson glanced towards Jill now. She’d barely been an afterthought to him so far. Benson had been so focused on the bigger picture with Senator Robinson and the Presidential election that he was losing sight of the deepest truth of the great game:

That there is no bigger picture without the smaller picture.

They say the Devil is in the details, but God lives in the details too.

Spirituality lives in the flesh.

Enlightenment is found in the daily work of the laborer.

There is no tree without the seed.

And the seed of human existence lies in the union of man and woman.

This man, and this woman.

Jack and Jill.

Benson needed to focus on them, on their story, their choices, their challenges. That was the only way to play this game when nothing else was clear. Hell, thatwas the game, remember? The only game the universe ever played.

The game of man and woman.

“This isn’t a game,” came Jill’s voice through Benson’s throbbing thoughts like an answer from not his mystical mind but the physical world. Benson was startled to feel her brush past his shoulder, reach for Jack’s phone on the table, snatch it up and turn it on to call Kay Steffen back. “Nina’s all alone back there, and maybe Kay can help her. Clearly nobody else will.”

“Give me that damn phone.” Benson struggled to his feet, grimacing from the stabbing pain in his left shin. “Jack, stop her.”

“She can’t unlock it without my fingerprint.” Jack strode over to Jill to snatch the phone away from her hand, but she sidestepped him and ducked beneath his arm and scurried out of the room like a rabbit on the run. Jack sighed and then strode after her down the labyrinth of corridors and cubby-holes and conference rooms of the unfinished Darkwater HQ.

Benson hesitated, then smiled. Get back to the basics, he reminded himself. Trust the process like you have on every Darkwater mission so far. There is no bigger game than the game of one man and one woman, so let it play out with this man and this woman.

“Unlock the phone for her,” Benson called to Jack, who stopped in the hallway, turned his head halfway, flashed Benson a curious look, then shrugged and disappeared around the corner after Jill. Benson looked at Paige, his eyes lighting up as he felt the game spin back into play. “I presume you can get that conversation on audio in here?”

Paige nodded quickly, tapped a few keys on her laptop. Moments later the in-ceiling speakers crackled to life, filling the conference room with crystal clear audio of Jill and Kay’s conversation.

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