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103. Blind Spots “Good evening, honey,” Brock called from the hallway. “I guess it’s my turn to make dinner today. Did you have a good time with your little friends?” Isadora just froze; she didn’t know what to say. She found herself immediately trying to separate the things he was saying because they fit his cover identity from details that were supposed to be an actual message for her. He called her friends among the Evergreen Girls ‘little friends’; was that an attempt to sound dismissive towards his wife’s activities? Was it a sign that he wanted to baby her now, or that someone was listening in who would expect him to? Was he indicating that he didn’t actually care about her response? He could have been indicating that he expected what she had heard from Nina to be the most interesting detail; or he could have been hinting that Nina wasn’t the only woman in this town who had been through the unusual treatments offered by the Pink Room. And as soon as she started treating his words as a code, rather than a casual comment, more questions started popping up in her mind. Like, did he assume that she’d been to the Fairhaven Exchange with her friends because he had told her about their trip last night? That seemed possible; he had referred to them as ‘little friends’ last night as well. Or was he trying to indicate that he knew where she had been? She could imagine that one of his friends could have passed on what their wives had said about the Exchange trip, if they had all been socialising while Isadora had locked herself away in the nursery with her computer. Or maybe he was indicating that he had been tracking her location throughout the day, just like she had tried and failed to see where he was spending his time. Had he been back home? Or had he messed with the system somehow so that he could access safe-base information while he was out? She didn’t want to believe it, but to an operative who was widely regarded as a lone wolf and a loose cannon, it wasn’t beyond belief. Isadora pushed all those thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn’t need to be paranoid now. She needed to figure out what Brock was doing, but she couldn’t get lost in a labyrinth every time he spoke to her. Best to focus on the case in front of her, and hope that when she proved herself, he would actually open up about some of the things he had been hiding. “Hey, honey,” she offered with a smile, opening the nursery door. She had so many questions to ask, things she needed to talk about… but right now she wondered if she might be more likely to get a meaningful answer if she caught him off guard first, talking about something that didn’t matter if it was overheard, but something that would confuse Brock as much as the character he was playing. “Do we have a Christmas tree yet?” “I haven’t even started looking,” he answered. He turned to face her, a slight puzzlement on his face. And that was an expression that Isadora found strangely gratifying. “No, it’s too early to get something like that. It would–” “Want to bet?” she answered, and she couldn’t resist a little smirk then. It was probably a very childish way to say that she’d bought one; but she would rather be childish than childlike. And maybe she was starting to imagine how it would feel to be a ‘brat’ for her husband, like Nina had mentioned. “You bought one?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I think that might need a lot of watering before it’s close to Christmas, and I’m not sure how long they actually last once they’re cut.” “You’d prefer a real one?” Isadora answered, effortlessly feeling her way through how Stella would have treated the conversation: still wanting to organise, but overwhelmed by the need to please her husband. “I didn’t think of that. Maybe this one’s a bit avant garde for you, but we can put it in the nursery if you’d prefer a real one for the lounge.” “I’m sure whatever you’ve picked will be fine, little one,” he answered with a soft smile. “I might have assumed a live tree because I remember some rather tasteless plastic ones from my youth. But… I suspect that if you’ve bought one so soon, that means you saw one that you liked. And I always want to see my little one smile, don’t I?” “Thank you,” Isadora mumbled, and it took a second for her to remember that the relief she was feeling was all Stella’s; she didn’t really care whether Brock liked the tree or not. She should have been more bothered by him talking to her like a child, but she really couldn’t complain so long as that was a real part of his character. “I put it in the attic for now. You can take a look if you want… see if you like it.” “I’ll take a look,” he said, and then hesitated. “Tell you what, I’ll make dinner tonight. Jim Carter suggested a business lunch in Fairhaven, but it was one of those fancy European-style places where you get a pork rib decorated with three or four exquisitely carved slivers of carrot and a single nacho. Now I’m really in the mood for something more filling.” “I could do baked potatoes?” Isadora offered, but she knew that Brock was so much more talented in the kitchen. She still had Stella’s urge to impress him, but she was more interested in seeing what he could conjure up. “You can be the sous chef,” he answered. “Daddy’s little helper. Let me show you something that will warm you through after a long day, and you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.” He hung his coat up, set his shoes tidily in their cubby, and then marched purposefully into the kitchen. He apparently didn’t need to look around to see what they had on hand; everything would be exactly where he had left it. Isadora guessed that would be a similar skillset to planning a missing; keeping all your resources in mind. From the fridge he lifted out a large fish that Isadora hadn’t even realised was in there, and a whole selection of greens. And pretty soon he set Isadora peeling potatoes and dropping them into a pot of water that was fast coming to the boil. Meanwhile, a knife flashed between Brock’s hands so fast that she could barely see it move. “You’re really good at that,” she said, comparing her partner’s fluid movements to her own attempts to get the skin off the potato. “Lots of practice?” “Yeah. Knowing where your hands are is the important thing when it comes to cooking. I wanted to be a chef when I was younger, you know? And somehow the skills are transferable.” “Knife skills help you out in the boardroom?” she asked, eager to see how much he was trying to stay in character now. He had talked down to her a little as he entered the house, and she wasn’t sure whether that comment was part of Bernard’s backstory or Brock’s. It just made her realise that she knew almost nothing about the life that had led him to become such a successful agent; but she guessed that the ability to effortlessly juggle a knife would be helpful whether he needed to skin and fillet a large fish, slice radishes so thin they were almost transparent, or mortally wound four elite yakuza enforcers. She shivered when she remembered one of the stories that had circulated in the mission analysis officers when her job was just sitting behind a computer. “Kitchen management,” he said. “A good chef needs to keep an eye on everybody at once, know who is doing well and who is running slow, to ensure that all the ingredients are ready at the same time. Estimate how many hands, and which hands, will be necessary for each task, and always be ready to step in if someone needs a little help to make the whole process run more smoothly.” As he spoke he reached one hand past Isadora to slightly adjust the heat on her pot of potatoes, and then quickly returned to his fish. “I never thought about it like that,” she said. “So, did you have a successful meeting today?” She wondered how easy it would be to steer his conversation back to where he had got lunch. He’d been in Fairhaven, he said, so he was probably investigating the area around the ULF’s supposed headquarters. It was another sign that she was on the right path, but if he was willing to drop any more information she needed to be ready to catch it. “Nothing important,” he said. “Been looking into joining a local group. Collective of businessmen who like to look after each other’s interests. I don’t have any business in this area, but I figure it would still benefit me to keep my finger on the pulse, and to know who is who. Who I can trust, if I need a little favour.” “You said you were going to see Victor today, didn’t you?” she asked, knowing that he hadn’t. But he’d allowed her to see him getting pretty close to Victor and Nina’s house before he turned off his tracking. “Was it golf today, or hunting? Did you win?” “This morning was just hanging out with the guys,” he said. “But I did run into Victor on the way to the club. He’s been curious about getting into fishing, you know? A little more relaxation in a busy life. Asked if I could recommend the best place to pick up the gear. I said I’d show him some places while I was heading to Fairhaven anyway, maybe help him understand the best equipment for a beginner.” Then Isadora’s eyes darted around the room. Steam was rising from the pots on the stove now, and the clatter of Brock’s knife on a chopping board filled the air as he set his fish pieces on one size to rest and moved on to the vegetables. The chance of someone listening in on their conversation was probably as low as ever, outside of the nursery. “I saw Nina today,” she said, and as much as she tried she couldn’t stop a harsh edge creeping into her voice. “She said she overheard you talking at the poker game. About us all doing something together. You didn’t tell me about that.” “Yeah, Victor was quite enthusiastic about doing something as a group. Daddies and their girls, you know?” “Like a playdate,” she said, voice steady but the lack of emotion showing her opinion of that idea. “Yeah, something like that. It’d be good for you to play with another little one your age, don’t you think?” “I don’t think so,” she answered, and shook her head. Brock gave a half shrug, and then focused his conversation purely on how to prepare dinner for a while. It didn’t take very long at all, before they were both holding plates of pan-fried pollock steaks on a bed of mashed potato and mixed vegetables; something hearty and filling that seemed perfect for winter. Isadora took hers towards the nursery, and was glad when Brock followed her without a word. Waving the sensor wands over their bodies only took a few seconds, while the food was set down on the bed to cool, and then they could sit beside each other knowing for sure that there was no way they could be overheard. “Don’t tell Nina’s daddy that she was listening?” Isadora asked, while Brock took his first bite of the fish. “I mean… I don’t want to get her in trouble.” “I did wonder if she was going to tell you,” Brock answered. “I’m pretty sure Victor hasn’t noticed how much she’s still taking in. She doesn’t object so much, but she still notices.” “Yeah, she warned me,” she said. There was a pause, and she decided to at least start on her dinner while they talked. The fish fell apart as soon as she sunk the fork into it, and the sauce Brock had made was heavenly; but she wasn’t about to get distracted complimenting him right now. “I think she was enthusiastic about the idea, but…” “Don’t worry,” Brock said. “No surprises. That’s what I promised. I’ve been playing Bernard as excited about being a part of a larger community, but still not sure if he’s willing to share his wife in that way. So when we can’t keep talking about some abstract future date anymore, I can decide that it doesn’t appeal to me after all. I’m not actually going to spring anything on you.” “You’re not going to tell him my trigger?” she asked. In the back of her mind was a tiny fear that Victor Solomon was the kind of man who needed to prove his dominance; and even if Bernard hadn’t agreed a specific setting or time to play with their helpless babies, he wouldn’t be above surprising her. “He already knows.” Brock sounded a lot more serious for that. “He told me that after the sportsball game. I think he ended up having a few beers with young Eli one day, and it slipped out there. But you don’t need to worry, because you haven’t told him. The trigger should be anchored to your Daddy now, so it only works if I say it. You shouldn’t feel any need to react in that way unless it’s me, or if you give someone else permission yourself.” “Yeah, I…” she mumbled. She should have been reassured, but right now she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted herself to follow the suggestions correctly. “I guess I should have known that. It’s just… there’s all these gaps in your recordings. I don’t know where you’re going, or who you’re talking to. How am I supposed to make my reports when you won’t even tell me what’s going on? Isn’t it natural to think you’re going behind my back somehow, when you won’t share anything?” “I promised you, Folker,” Brock spoke sternly this time, and turned his head to look her in the eyes as a gesture of sincerity. “I will not treat you like a child again unless it’s unavoidable. And I won’t lie to you.” “That’s not the point!” she found herself almost yelling now. “It’s not even about the baby thing. I mean… if it helps sell the role, we can have a playdate. It might even help Nina to trust me more. But… you’re not telling me everything. You’re not telling me anything. How am I supposed to trust my partner, when you seem to be taking every opportunity to push me out of your investigation? You need to trust me, Brock, and let me be a part of this team. Two heads are better than one, aren’t they?” “I don’t want Kane to know about the baby stuff,” Brock said softly. “I don’t want your records to be tainted by this. But I’ll tell you what Victor asks for if that makes it easier. If you can promise that you can fake surprise, if and when it becomes necessary.” “It’s not about–” Isadora started, but her partner was still talking. “And if you want to know about the other stuff? You trust Arrencani too much, when he’s our target. And this is a serious case, that could end up being dangerous. You need to understand the importance of our mission, the complexity of the web of connections I’m building. And I can’t bring you up to speed on all that now. Not until I can be sure you know what you’re getting into. Your job here is to maintain our cover and tell Kane whatever is needed to keep him happy. You don’t need to be on Arrencani’s bad side, trust me on that, and I don’t think I can tell you any of my suspicions until I’m sure it would be worth the risk.” “Worth it for me?” she asked. “Or for your misguided vendetta against Lorenzo? Listen… No, no. I don’t want to be arguing over this. I’d like you to tell me what’s going on, but I know it might be hard for me to show surprise. So if it’s something like an unexpected playdate, I can cope with that. That’s fine. Just so long as you’re not trying to sideline me from an actual investigation. And you’re not locking me away in a basement, or drugging me again.” “I doubt it will be necessary,” Brock answered simply. “But if it is… that’s not a problem. But! But I want you to trust me on this investigation, and put some weight on my ability to assess the situation. You want me to prove that my brain is recovered and I can analyse properly? Fine. What do I have to find? Would the address of a certain location in Fairhaven prove that I’ve got what it takes?” “Have you got that?” his tone shifted suddenly. Now Isadora knew that she was on the right track; and also that Brock hadn’t expected her to work out so much so fast. That made it a little easier to believe that he’d only recognised the place because he had been there before. If he’d seen it through sheer luck but she could deduce it, that would have to be a big enough demonstration to impress him. “Not yet,” she said, and saw the excitement in his eyes quickly fade away. “But I know how to find it, and I’m sure I’ll have it soon. If that’s something that would be of use to you.” “The place from the video?” he asked, to which Isadora gave a quick nod. “I expect that would be the first step towards finding their meeting place. If you can identify that, then I would have to acknowledge your skill. And if you can get that far without alerting Arrancani, I suspect we would have to properly compare notes.” “So you’ll stop hiding things from me then?” “If you can find that address. And if we can agree that we both have things which Kane doesn’t need to know about.” They both nodded then. “I’ll have it in a week,” Isadora said. “Pretty confident about that one. And then you can finally stop hiding things from me.” “Perhaps. And is there anything else we need to discuss?” “There is one thing…” Isadora said, and turned her gaze down for a second as she pushed one last piece of mashed potato around her plate, mopping up the last remains of the sauce. “This sauce is incredible. You have to teach me how to make it before I end up cooking for myself again.” And a laugh was just what they needed then, to set all of the recent tension aside.

Hi Welcome! I'm finding my way around the forums too.  Have you tried wearing one yet, or a pair of pullups, or still at the curious stage? Feel free to pm me.  Xx

Right here Raggy I win.

Magda: Hearing the word “délicieusement”, I smiled and nodded. I recognized the similar word in Slovak “delikátne”. Jo looked at the picture book and tried to understand the words and relationships, “Peter je otec, Magda je matka, Milan je syn,” I nodded and told the simple sentences in Slovak. However, her last words made me stop. Was it her mistake or did she want to be the daughter? “Ty si dcéra?” I looked at her with a big question in my eyes. Something moved in my heart. I never had a daughter. Did this transformed girl want to become my daughter indeed? I kept looking at her, expecting her reaction. I instinctively put my hand on my chest. The next words were simple, and I repeated the words and added the Slovak terms, "Une louche – vareška, Le pot – hrniec, La soupe - polievka. Le tableau - stôl." After the meal, she offered to help and I nodded slightly, “ďakujem,” and moved to do more chores while she continued studying the picture book. Milan: “Ahojte,” I exclaimed when I closed the door behind me, coming back from the school. To be honest, I was looking forward to seeing the girl again. I even didn’t know her name, but remembered her smile. “Čo ste robili, mami?” I turned to mommy. “Boli sme hľadať stratený telefón a kupovať oblečenie pre Jo,” she answered. “Našli ste ten telefón?” “Nie, pôjdeme ešte raz, keď sa otec vráti z práce. On vie, kde ju našiel, Jo si to nepamätá.” “Bodaj by, v tom stave, ako ju doniesol,” I laughed shortly. I headed towards the kitchen, smelling the food, but I spotted the girl … Jo, studying my old picture book. I almost burst into laughter but realized what she was doing. She was learning. “Ahoj, Jo,” I greeted her and smiled, “učíš sa?” I looked at the picture book. However, the phrasebook on the bench caught my eye. It would be even better. I lifted it and realized it was drenched by the wine, the pages stuck together and illegible. “Ach nie!” I sighed heavily and showed it to her, “zajtra ti kúpim nový. Mami, dáš mi na to peniaze?” I turned to mom. “Isteže,” she nodded. I sat down next to Jo and watched her as she was studying the book, blushing again. However, I wanted to help her.

Work at the moment. I did wear a boys XXL Goodnites for church. I was awake far earlier than I wanted to be, so I decided to go to church for Wednesday night service. I wet it a little bit, as not to waste it.