Chapter Two

Living the Dream

Chicago: Present day

Rain splattered the streets of Chicago, making downtown look like a black-and-white photograph. From his seat at a café, Herrison James scanned the crowd, one hand wrapped around his walkie-talkie, the other holding the binoculars to his eyes. A black Range Rover stopped at the traffic light in front of him.

Herrison frowned and adjusted the zoom on his binoculars. Someone in the front seat of the car seemed to be drawing on the foggy window.

He brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Target is on the move. I repeat. Target is on the move."

For a few seconds, there was only static from the other side, then a voice acknowledged the message. "Roger that."

"Is the decoy in place?" he asked, following the Range Rover with his gaze as it continued its way toward a glass office building.

"Yes, sir. Our insiders will let us know when it's clear."

Herrison sighed and shoved the binoculars in a fancy leather briefcase. It was show time.

* * *

"Quit drawing on the windows. What are you, five?"

Sam jumped, and the line he'd been carefully drawing cut the rest of his symbol. He'd almost had it right this time. "I'm not drawing. I'm writing." His passenger side window was filled with pre-Columbian symbols.

Freider Grant chuckled. "I thought that with your scores in school, you'd have learned how to write by now. How on Earth do you keep getting straight A's?"

"Very funny," Sam mumbled, trying to correct the mess he'd made. It didn't do much good, so he started drawing another hieroglyph.

"Really, now, son. You should quit all the daydreaming about finding treasures and focus on real life."

Sam's muscles tensed, but he didn't answer and continued drawing.

"You're almost eighteen. You should be busy practicing your driving."

Oh, yes, of course, drive. No way in hell was Sam driving his father around. Not since the one time when Freider almost had a heart attack because Sam didn't break fifty feet before a crossing. That lecture alone was enough to last him a lifetime. And, if he was completely honest, he didn't mind being driven around.

"Or you could think about getting a job," Freider continued,

"I should think about getting a girlfriend, while I'm at it." Sam turned away from the window, his full attention on his father. He'd heard the nag routine so many times, he could repeat it word for word.

Freider's eyes narrowed and he squeezed the wheel tighter. "You'll have enough time for that when you're older. Right now, you should strive to improve your school work."

Sam's jaw dropped. School? He'd taken his final test of the year and came home with 112 percent. What more did his father want?

"And maybe help around the agency more. It could be your future career path, and I want you to be ready when it's time for me to retire."

There it was. The real reason for "the speech". Sam leaned his head against the window and looked at the grey clouds moving among the skyscrapers. Being a private eye specializing in providing divorce material was the last thing he wanted in life. His father was so thrilled with his job, but it made Sam want to throw up. He didn't want to deal with lying, cheating people all the time. If he had things his way, he'd become an explorer or an archeologist. Ugh, I can't believe I gave up jogging today for this.

"Where'd you learn how to draw those things anyway?" Freider asked.

"School," Sam answered. The second the word was out, he winced.

"School? I thought we sent you to a serious school, not one that would have such nonsense in the syllabus." They reached a traffic light and stopped. Freider turned in his seat. "What subject is this, anyway?"

"Ancient civilizations. And it's not exactly in the syllabus. I'm taking the class for extra credit." There was nothing Sam's father loved more than extra credit.

Freider's frown only deepened. "Couldn't you have chosen something more useful? Like accounting or home economics. What other subjects I don't know about are you taking?"

Cryptography, map reading, basic survival. Sam shifted in his seat. "None."

"Hmpf." His father turned his attention back to the traffic. "You should stop caring so much about what happened thousands of years ago and concentrate on what's going on now." He reached back, picked up the day's newspaper and shoved it at Sam. "Read the paper."

Eager to leave the conversation, Sam opened the paper at random and disappeared behind it. The headline on the page made his heart jump into his throat.

Bringing archeology back in spotlight - a new generation of history experts needed. Sam perused the article, drinking in every detail. A team of 14 youngsters had been recruited for an expedition meant to reignite public interest in a field many considered dull and dead. The more he read, the more Sam's stomach clenched. It sounded perfect - an opportunity to get first-hand experience in what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, the recruitment taking place in elite schools around the country, an all-expenses paid trip. There were only two major problems: he wasn't in on it, and even if he were, there was the issue of his father who would probably just laugh and dismiss his dreams.

Bitter disappointment had Sam folding the paper and throwing it in the backseat.

"What, bored with modern-day politics already?" Freider asked, pressing the radio preset buttons as if searching for something in particular. "Why does your brother listen to this crap?" he complained as the opening riff to Sweet child of mine by Guns 'n' Roses blasted through the speakers. "Not a single news station on here."

"Dad, it's bad enough that you took Kyle's car without asking. Don't mess with his music." Which, as far as Sam was concerned, was pretty awesome.

"This should teach him to listen to his father." Freider gave up on the stereo and turned it off altogether. "I told him to take my piece of junk into service weeks ago."

"Why should he take it? It's your car?" Sam asked, but Freider either didn't hear or didn't care enough to answer.

They finally reached the office building and Freider struggled with the speed gear before finally putting the car in reverse and parking it half-an-inch from a sturdy concrete pole.

"You're either very skilled or very lucky," Sam said hopping out of the car. He opened the back door to grab his father's files. For a fraction of a second he hesitated, then picked up the paper, too.

"Lucky." Freider grinned, but then his mouth twitched as if something mildly annoyed him. "Last time I let your brother configure his car. Why on earth did he go for manual? Or why he refused to get parking sensors?"

Because that's what real drivers do - they drive. Not rely on gadgets to do it for them. As lousy as his driving was, Sam could at least shift gears properly.

Dropping his rant on Kyle's driving choices, Freider launched into an explanation of one of his most recent cases while the two rode the elevator to the seventh floor. Sam tuned his father out, trying to identify a sudden nagging feeling that had taken hold of him. It wasn't "the speech" or the talk about stalking married people, but something else, something more subtle which had bothered him before, but he could never tell what it was.

Freider stopped abruptly and Sam almost walked into his back. They'd reached the agency and his father froze in the waiting room, in front of his secretary's desk. Mrs. Martin had retired a year ago, not before bringing a replacement in the form of her niece, Alice. Even if she didn't bake cookies, Sam liked Alice more. She was young, fun and spunky. Which also seemed to be the reasons Freider wasn't fond of her. That and the fact that she was beautiful.

"For God's sake, girl. Do I have to give you a list of clothes that are appropriate in the work place?"

Alice shook her head, keeping her eyes on her knee-high black boots. Blue jeans tucked into them and a white shirt with chains dangling from the sides completed her outfit.

Sam tilted his head at his father. He'd seen Alice in more office-inappropriate clothes. This was actually tame for her, and while sitting down, since her chains weren't showing, she actually looked presentable.

Freider let out a loud, dramatic sigh and stalked toward the office. Sam lagged behind a little and caught Alice cursing under her breath.

"Don't mind him, Alice," Sam said. "His car broke down this morning so he had to take Kyle's and he almost rammed it into a pole in the parking lot." That wasn't it, Freider was naturally grumpy when it came to Alice, but Sam wanted to make her feel better either way.

Alice smiled. "Thanks. How did you turn out so nice?" She looked left and right as if afraid someone might be listening, then rolled her chair closer to the desk and leaned on it. "Speaking of Kyle, when's he coming over again? Or Jerry?"

She'd said Jerry's name so nonchalantly, as if it were an afterthought. Sam pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing. Poor Alice tried so hard to get Jerry's attention, but his brother was still oblivious to any and all manners of flirting.

"Jerry, I don't know. Kyle, most likely never. He doesn't let Dad boss him around." Unlike some other people I know. Namely himself.

Like a given, Freider called his name from the office.

"His highness calls," Alice muttered.

Sam gave her one last smile and hurried after his father. The office furniture hadn't improved over the years - still corny, still too many chairs and cabinets, and the plush carpet was only good at gathering dust. Mountains upon mountains of solved files rested in open library cases as if to show off the company's level of activity. Sam dropped the files he'd been holding on the desk.

"Was about time." Freider drummed his fingers on the desk. "I wish you'd stop chatting up the secretary."

"I wasn't chatting anybody up." Alice was cute, but not his type. And unlike Jerry who seemed just as uninterested in girls as he had been years ago, Sam was now certain there was nothing wrong with him. He did have a type, and it consisted in a gorgeous girl he ran into every morning when he went jogging. He had no idea who she was, where she lived or where she went to school, but the few seconds he saw of her every day were enough to send his mind spinning.

"Good," Freider said reaching out under the desk and pulling out a huge box filled with more files. "Because you'll have enough time for that when you're a responsible, self-sustained adult."

"Where's the fun then?" Sam mumbled.

"As long as you live under my roof, you're doing something else for fun. Arranging these files alphabetically, for instance."

Oh, the joy! Why did I come here again? Because Freider had asked and he couldn't say no. Even if he had a damn exam in three hours. "I have to get to school."

"You will." Freider picked up the files he'd brought from home and headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour and take you to school."

"And so starts the bore-fest," Sam said to an empty room. How did his father keep guilt-tripping him into these things? If it were Jerry, Freider wouldn't dare disturb him during exam day. Sam had the feeling his father considered Jerry the smart one while he was the... Moron he can always count on to help.

With a groan, Sam dropped on his father's leather chair. The box of files stared at him, begging to be tossed back into the depths of hell, where it had come from. And he did just that. He gave it a good kick under the desk as well, just to make sure it wouldn't try to crawl out. He'd just think of a reason why he didn't sort them later.

As he bobbed back and forth in his father's seat, Sam's gaze kept getting drawn to the newspaper, left on the corner of the desk. Though he'd already read the entire article, he picked the paper up and read it again. Each word seemed to draw the air out of the room, leaving him with a heavy knot in his chest. Every line, every promise of what could have been - it felt like someone else was living his life.

It's so unfair.

Yes, life was unfair.

"At least someone else's isn't," he mumbled and tossed the paper into the trashcan.

So here we are, three years later. Sam's obviously about to get into some serious trouble. Will he get to live his dream, or will it go down in flames?

I'm also curious what you think about his dynamic with Freider. What kind of dad do you think he is?

Thanks for reading and considering leaving a vote or comment.