Back in the Game

2.

“The Old Man wants to see you, 1645, usual location.”

He was a touch concerned that this extraordinarily delicate communication would be so brazenly shared. After all, the High School track that day, although sparsely populated, was as exposed as it gets. Might as well just call on an unsecured land-line. Oh, well, the more things change - the more they remain the same, he thought as the courier complemented him on his mile time and turned to go. 

Deciding that the meeting later in the afternoon with TOM was important enough to prepare for, he curtailed his final laps, suited up and rode his fixed-gear bike home. He knew from painful experience that the effort required to safely negotiate the five hilly miles, in direct-drive with the bikes power-train system, took Zen-like relaxed focus. One wrong move, what he called a ‘geared-moment,’ -relapsing into the normal alternation of optimal pedal torque and soft pedaling - or even an errant, distracted, random passing thought, the very things cyclists crave, could, in this case spell disaster. Or at the very least an embarrassing liaison with the local asphalt. It was one of his many ways to keep his chops up, to practice with laser-like focus on the task at hand. He chuckled at the irony that included the reality that in his line of work, focus usually meant riding a fixie while juggling a half-dozen tennis balls, in high-speed surveillance of one, or several, bad guys. 

Once home, he considered what TOM might have for him. Things had progressed, or rather regressed, since his last assignment, now almost ten years past, into global disarray, political instability and a power paradigm ripe with corruption, greed and an escalating degree of international and domestic social unrest. In other words, a volatile cauldron overflowing with back-channel, black ops and five-alarm firestorms. 

He looked around his meager rental cabin and wondered if he would ever see his guitar again, walk along the beach, or sit on the plastic pail to clean his bike. Everything was disposable, ready to be jettisoned and abandoned at a moment’s notice. A decade ago arson was the cover. 

This was his current situation. He glanced at his watch and began shut-down operations anticipating the result of his conversation with TOM. 

A moment’s notice. Back in the game. Almost.