The Private Spy

The roar of the jumbo jet’s powerful engines as it throttled back for its landing at Dulles startled Steele Wolfe from his fitful sleep. Steele jerked himself erect, glanced out the window to make sure they were landing upright, and grasped the chair arms tightly. An experienced traveler whose career took him to some of the strangest airports in the world, Steele had long ago adapted to the embarrassing fact that his body always tensed when his senses warned that his impossible chariot was approaching its earthbound objective. Suddenly, the wheels hit the earth with a loud, shrieking protest from the heavy tires, bounced once, and then settled down. The pilot reversed the engine and Steele relaxed, relieved to be home after what he hoped would be his final flight for a very long time. He checked his watch. Ten PM. It was late, but he had no doubt about what he had to do next. Steele had arrived at a pivotal point in his life. Although privately proud of what he had accomplished over the past fifteen years, Steele after several months of internal debate had woken after a churning night in his downtown Athens garçonnière with a decision. Two weeks later he had impulsively surrendered his lease to a forty -year old Athenian playboy, who had been seeking a haven for his rotating afternoon sessions with one or the other of his many mistresses, and had booked his flight home without announcing his return to another soul, particularly Marty. Steele assumed that Marty, Martha to her female friends, would be delighted. He privately and reluctantly admitted that he had selfishly allowed their ten-year relationship to wither. They had been involved as spirited lovers when the Tribune had dispatched the thirty-year old Steele on what had been assumed by Steele and his editor as a temporary assignment as an assistant to the ¬ elderly but highly respected correspondent who covered the volatile Middle East that stretched from North Africa through India. To everyone’s surprise, including Steele, Marty, the editor, and the older correspondent, fate intervened; the correspondent suffered an unanticipated heart attack; Steele had thrived in the temporary assignment, had astonished everyone with his spectacular early performance, and after six months had enthusiastically claimed the position as his own. Marty initially shared Steele’s delight at this unexpected development, particularly after he acquired his own byline. The shared prestige and the increased salary softened the romantic chill of the extended separation caused by Steele’s required move to Athens. The turbulence and strife of the volatile Middle East with its angry rebellions, factional disagreements, and physical violence required Steele’s constant attention. As the years passed, the separation eroded the intimacy of their relationship. Steele concentrated on the challenge of his demanding career and surprised even himself with his rapid ascent to the top of his profession. Time on the other hand was not kind to Marty. She did not age gracefully; her chin sagged slightly and wrinkles became troublesome while boredom and solitude soured her disposition. Without their knowledge, time and distance transformed the two lovers into casual friends; only habit perpetuated the tenuous plan of marriage. Unfortunately, tri-annual visits did not cut it, particularly for Marty who after years of separation began to sprinkle her communications with whining complaints which Steele graciously ignored. Inevitably, their relationship deteriorated, but Marty had no options and the distracted Steele did not notice. He was comfortable with the notion that one day he would return to Washington, assume another eminent journalistic position, and resume his intimacy with Marty. Gradually, the ten years of war and constant travel progressively turned tedious; ultimately, the accumulating disenchantment culminated in a dramatic decision. Following his most recent trip to the war zones of Afghanistan where he found himself treading in footprints he had planted on previous visits, he impulsively decided to call a time out on his career, to take a sabbatical, and to write that definitive book on the Middle East. Steele arbitrarily cancelled all work related travel plans, declared finis to his life in Athens, said goodbye to his Greek friends, and climbed on the airplane convinced it would be easier to discuss his decision in person with his seniors at the Trib than try to handle their objections from long distance. He had alerted his superior at the Trib with a heads-up, that’s all, no explanation. He also assumed that surprising Marty would be more fun than warning her with a phone call. Just the thought of seeing the excited expression on her face when he suddenly appeared at her door was appealing. When the door on plane opened, Steele, experienced traveler that he was, quickly made his way down the steps and rushed to the head of the returning citizen line. After clearing customs, he continued on to the baggage claim area and was surprised to find that all three of his bags were among the first to arrive. Shunning the assistance of a porter, he tucked the computer under one arm, the smaller suitcase under the other, and stubbornly wrestled the two larger cases to the taxi line. Normally, Steele made do with one bag and his computer, but this trip was a terminal one marking the end of his transient life. He stubbornly carried the only possessions he carried about into the future. The trip from National Airport to Marty’s apartment on 16th Street, about a mile from Dupont Circle, was a quick one that surprised even Steele who knew the area well. Marty had lived in the same sixth floor apartment for the entire twelve years Steele had known her. In fact, during his elongated overseas tour, Marty’s apartment had mutated into his home base. Instead of buying Marty a ring, Steele had declared his love by jointly acquiring a mortgage on the apartment. As part of his homecoming celebration, Steele planned to convert his virtual fiancé into a bonafide spouse. Steele, weary but in a state of near intoxication at the thought of sharing his plans with a surprised Marty, over-tipped the driver and eagerly shouldered his bags as he made his way to the elevator and the sixth floor. He paused outside the familiar apartment door, smiled as he dropped the heavy bags, and actually felt the weariness lift from his shoulders as he took the key from his pocket. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Informing Marty the details of his life-changing decision—she, of course, would be sharing its impact—was an occasion that would reside forever in his memory. Steele took a deep breath, forced himself to relax, and slid the key into the lock. He grinned with pleasure when it turned easily, and he stealthily opened the door hoping to surprise but not frighten the unwary Marty. He peeked in and was startled by the angry yap of small dog with long, unruly white hair. The arrogant creature with sharp white teeth audaciously challenged Steele’s right to enter his own home. This was a development he had not anticipated. Marty had never mentioned a dog; she knew he was not a canine person. Granted that two maybe three months had passed since her last letter, but that had not worried Steele. It was only natural that the passage of years combined with the distance between them to retard the frequency of their correspondence; both were preoccupied by the demands of their careers, and it was natural that after a decade each had attained a level of maturity wherein one comfortably took the other for granted. Before the surprised Steele recovered sufficiently to admonish the angry creature, it advanced.