White Death (22 page)

Miami, December 1969

Jamie stood up and announced, “I need to go. You both stay here tonight. James, don’t forget the paperwork tomorrow regarding Sterling and other matters. Come by after work, pick up your clothes, and say goodbye to me.” She stood motionless, tears coming freely now. Jamie ran to me and hugged tightly. I hugged her back.

“Damn you, James! Why weren’t you another asshole? I’m going to miss you so badly. You son of a bitch! You walked out of a prison and into my life, and now you’re leaving me. Who will I talk to? They don’t make men like you.” Jamie turned to Karen immediately.

“Karen, I’m so sorry. I have no right to say these things in front of you.”

“Everybody, please sit,” said Karen.

“Jake tells me everything, including the initial sexual interest in him and the massage incident.” Jamie sat, eyes wide, frozen in place as Karen continued. “But an important change in your relationship with Jake occurred when you apologized for the seduction attempt. To me the apology was a broader statement, saying, ‘I now view you as my partner, friend, and even a confidant.’ Jamie, I deeply appreciate the candor and willingness to confide in me after Jake was tortured, despite the profound career risk it entailed. Most importantly, you learned how to honor our marriage as well as respect and love Jake in a different way – something that has eluded you in prior relationships with male friends. Both of you share a much deeper friendship than you have realized. The demands of your work, combined with
the realization it must end at some point, pulled you together and pushed you apart simultaneously. In many respects, it was an affair without sex. I suppose this should threaten me more than an episode of casual sex.

“With time on my hands, I thought about this situation quite a bit, especially after Jake’s rescue from Colombia. An interesting article I discovered during my research is titled:
Urban and Undercover Police Work: Marriage Killers
. The short version is that policemen are afraid to confide in their wives about their fears and emotions. More than a handful are even incapable of accepting and owning their own feelings; they are a lost cause, usually to alcohol. For those who approach their wives, many are rebuffed because this is such an alien world to the wife or, perhaps, she cannot accept such raw feelings from her macho husband. Either way, a communication barrier is erected that becomes self-reinforcing, and the marriage ultimately fails. Jake’s love for me is different from the love he has for you, Jamie. I like you; and you could teach me, as a woman, a few of the skills and realities necessary to help preserve our marriage in the future, if you are willing.”

“Yes, Karen. But I don’t know what I know.”

“More than you can imagine. I come from privilege. The worlds you two inhabit on a daily basis are alien to me.

“Jamie, I also want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the care you gave Jake after he was tortured. You tended his physical wounds; you slept beside him at night to calm him when the nightmares came; you bathed and cared for him; most of all you were a rock for him during such a critical time. Your support was vital in helping Jake overcome his violent treatment and not succumb to it. I may have been too emotional to do such a great job.”

“You give me undue credit, Karen, but thank you for your kindness.”

“Finally, my feelings are conflicted about an abrupt
separation of you two. Having lost friends who moved because of work, I often wish a few of them were close. Letters are not the same as dinner. What if the FBI transferred you to Washington? Your friendship continues, and you help me understand your world. All three of us win. Besides, Jake would be morose and a pain in my ass without you. After such a successful operation, the transfer might be justified as an award.”

“I’d like that,” answered a stunned Jamie.

“If the front door approach doesn’t work, then talk to me. Getting things done in Washington often depends on connections.”

She paused, clasped her hands, and looked up toward the ceiling. “Mother will kill me. First, I marry a cop, and later bring his Miami wife to Washington.” The wisecrack brought restrained chuckles.

Jamie and I were both in shock after the conversation with Karen. I discovered new respect for Karen’s intellect and shrewdness.

Jamie gave Karen a hug and, releasing her, said, “You are an amazing woman. I am not sure who will be the teacher, and who will be the student. Goodnight.”

“Where’s my forehead kiss?”

“Coming up. Such a pain in my ass!”

After Jamie left, I turned to Karen and said, “Let’s sit and talk for a few minutes on the bench outside.”

We walked out holding hands and sat down, Karen looking at me expectantly.

“Although I love Jamie’s company, I can foresee problems if Jamie comes to Washington. You are my only wife, and this decision may create a rift between your mother and both of us. Three is an awkward and somewhat unstable relationship, with one person on the outside. In this situation, Jamie will feel excluded. She can’t live with us; she will be one more agent
assigned to the Washington field office or headquarters and living by herself. Despite the pain from losing a dear friend, I’m not sure this is a good plan.”

“The beauty of love,” began Karen, “lies in its ability to flourish on many levels at the same time. It is not a one-dimen-sional emotion. We love flowers, parents, spouses, children, pets, and friends all at the same time, but in different ways. Your affection for Jamie got off on the wrong foot. Both of you were undercover, living together, and emotionally needy. Mutual physical attraction was a natural first step, which would have caused significant damage to our marriage if you had not recognized and corrected the problem. In the beginning, drifting was easier than painting a brighter line for Jamie. Perhaps, with the challenging work problems demanding your time and attention, you did not want to quarrel with your housemate, someone you cared about and depend upon. Jamie deserves a lot of credit for her unsolicited acknowledgement about how toxic further seduction attempts would have been for all of us. The point is both of you worked it out and were rewarded with a deep and unusual friendship. In fact, it is an ongoing and mutual gift of love between you. Our marriage is a mutual gift of love of a different type.

“I don’t take this step of supporting your friendship with Jamie reluctantly. You two are exploring new ground together. I am a bit envious of the experience, never having had the opportunity. But envy of an experience and jealousy are not the same. I’m proud of what you accomplished, and the time away from you has strengthened my love for you. By the way, I will take care of Mother. Jamie doesn’t know it yet, but she is going to help me do that.”

I looked deeply into her beautiful green eyes. “I’m so lucky to have you, and I’m a little lost for words.”

“Well,” she said, “you can begin by giving me a nice kiss, and think of something to say later.”

The first kisses began tentatively, but rapidly grew longer and lustier. We raced each other back to a former safe house. Clothes began flying off as soon as the door was closed.

“Where’s the bedroom?” I asked. We laughed and ran naked through the house until we found one. Karen was in my arms again. Yes, this was a different love.

Miami, December 1969

Jamie confronted me outside of the Miami’s FBI Field Division offices. With a curt motion of her head, she directed me to a bench under one of the palm trees and away from normal foot traffic.

“You shot him down in cold blood! Didn’t you? We are law-enforcement officers. Our standards and conduct are what separate us from the scum we pursue. And now you want me to cover for you. Right!”

“I have always liked the way you come directly to the point. You were not there. Nobody can contradict my version of events.”

“That’s because you requested the two agents behind you to check the perimeter again. They also suspect Sterling didn’t go for the AK on the table. Both of us know that Sterling never touched guns, even less a gangster gun like an AK. James, you have put me in a thorny bind here.”

“Sterling kidnapped and was about to kill my wife. I confess to nothing, and he got what he deserved. May he rot in hell.”

“I don’t want a confession, unless you enjoyed your time in Coleman.”

“What do you want?”

“To vent at you before I sign official papers as the Supervisory Special Agent in charge of the Barranquilla case saying your use of deadly force was reasonable and necessary. Do you agree we cannot speak of this matter again?”

“I agree, Jamie.”

She kissed me on the forehead and left wordlessly.

Washington, D.C., December 1969

Karen pulled back the curtains of the master bedroom, and stood at the rear window overlooking the manicured lawn and garden. The leaden sky was producing a few harmless flakes of snow. She watched Jamie and Jake walking, talking, and occasionally gesturing. She was thinking:
I’ve grown quite fond of Jamie. When I heard her real name was Lucy, I asked to keep calling her Jamie, a name she now prefers. I don’t yet understand their worlds, the management of fear, the unspoken assumptions and arrangements, the secrets
.
Something happened regarding this outlaw, Sterling, which involved Jake. They change subjects, however, if they suspect I am around
.
Perhaps some things are best left alone
.

Mother is outraged they sometimes hold hands “where others can see.” Although I understand her view, no competition exists between Jamie and me. I do not want to take any steps hinting at competition
.
This friendship does not humiliate me, nor has it affected our marriage
.
In fact, Jamie possesses remarkable depth and is a good friend to do things with, especially when Jake and Mike visit their civil war battlefields, or go flying together. The ultimate course of their relationship lies in uncharted waters and is between them. Jake, and even Jamie, remain comfortable in talking with me about bumps in the road
.

Jamie’s physical attraction to Jake is still a potential problem, and he cannot meet that need. She is a young woman, and needs a man who can understand her life. Their friendship will survive the transformation caused by Jamie’s marriage someday, and the odd triangle will continue
.
I could never love another man the way Jamie loves Jake. I don’t know how, and the ingredients are missing. I am not an urban or undercover cop. I just married one
.

Washington, D.C., December 1969

Karen’s parents threw a catered, annual Christmas party. Surrounded by their closest friends, the liquor flowed, and the chatter was loud. The gossip about Jamie and me had died down except for a few sanctimonious old women. Jamie had even charmed Mother, a feat I never thought possible. Like most of these parties, it was interesting at times, but mostly boring. I noticed frequent eye contact, however, between Jamie and Mike.

Sitting next to Karen, I whispered in her ear, “Do you see what I see?” She nodded her head.

When nothing else happened, I stepped up to Mike and said, “She likes you. Don’t be a chump; go talk to her.” He finished his drink, a little too fast, got another, and walked over to her. She lit up, what a smile! I suppressed a pang of jealousy while I hoped they would become an item someday.

High-Altitude Bonding

Mike and I had the same days off not long after the party. I asked him if he wanted to smash some bugs the next day over the snow-covered mountains of West Virginia.
(Smashing bugs
is pilot talk for having fun with no particular place to go, flying for the pleasure of flying.)

“Yes, but no drug runs,” he said. “I can’t handle the stress.”

We departed Frederick, Maryland, in the same Cessna 182 that landed in Baltimore a lifetime ago. The winter day was beautiful with unlimited visibility. We flew low toward Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, a picturesque town sitting above the
confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers. I turned southwest, roughly paralleling the Shenandoah River, and climbed to sixty-five-hundred feet for a better view, including one of Hawksbill Mountain at forty-one-hundred feet. Sunglasses allowed us to take in the stunning snow-covered landscape from the valley floor to mountain peaks.

“Mike, I noticed the way Jamie lit up when you walked over toward her. Did you ask her out?”

“Yes, for dinner. Both of us had a great time.”

“Jamie and I became close friends in Miami. She is a first-class lady. Don’t let this one slip through your fingers.”

“Jake, it’s strange how she was reassigned here after the operation. Stranger still is Karen and Jamie have become very tight. They are probably together now. You have told me some of the highlights—if that’s the right word—of your undercover work. Can you tell me more about you, Jamie, and Karen? I want to keep seeing her, but I need to know where my best friend and his wife stand regarding Jamie.”

Of course, this was the main reason for the invitation to go flying with Mike. Despite knowing the question was coming, I experienced a flash of discomfort at the level of intimacy required for a complicated and personal answer. I looked around. The beauty of the land and scenery fortified my resolve to be direct with Mike.

According to the Cherokee creation myth, a Great Buzzard was sent from the sky to prepare the wetlands for the people. As he got tired, my mother told me, his giant wings would touch the ground and carve out vast mountains and valleys, which remain to this day. The valleys, mountains, and land are eternal, she said; individual trials and triumphs are fleeting.

“Jake? Are you still here? Remember, I can’t fly.”

“Mike, I’m going to give you the unabridged version. I’ve never had to organize thoughts on these events for someone else. Telling a personal story is difficult, especially to a hard-edged,
ass-kicking cop.”

Mike smiled at the jibe. He had sensed my discomfort. “Stay in your comfort zone, Jake. I don’t need all of it.”

“The bottom line first. Karen and I both hope you and Jamie explore this new relationship and, we want to assure you there is no problem, nor will it change anything between us.”

I gave Mike the unabridged version, which spilled over into lunch at the airport café in Elkins, West Virginia. As we departed Elkins on runway 32 for the trip home, Mike seemed quiet.

“Jake, you can make a crowbar complicated. This story raises my esteem of all involved. In your case, my esteem for you normally hovers at an all-time low, so a boost was sorely needed.”

“Fuck you, Mike. This crowbar was complicated. Although we began with different agendas, we ended up getting it right. I remembered how much I missed your abuse.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. I had started to worry,” he said. “I’ve seen you and Jamie holding hands.”

“I’d offer to do the same with you, but you’re not an Arab and you’re way too ugly.”

Mike smiled and flipped me off.

“I still love Jamie in a platonic relationship,” I said. “Having a female friend who is a confidant, who understands our world, who views things a little differently because she’s a woman, and who likes my wife, is a rare gift.”

“I can tell she loves you too. I didn’t want to cause problems.”

“Go for it Mike.”

“I’d like that.”