(Note: I plan to make this a slow seduction, so be patient.)
*
Jessica first came into my life four years ago. Actually, Jessica is the Americanized version of her Middle Eastern name, but we'll stick with Jessica. About a year before I met Jessica, I had first done a stint in the Marines and then had gone to work for one of those government agencies that you never hear about unless they screw the pooch big time. Otherwise, their continued success only brings anonymity.
Anyway, I separated from that particular agency five years ago. I had lined up a fairly lucrative job for a security firm that did work for oil and natural gas companies. About that time, a buddy of mine and his wife had died in a car accident. For whatever reason, they had named me as guardian of their four year old daughter Kate. Why, I haven't a clue. I've never been a particular "touchy-feely" kind of guy. The kind of work I had done in the military and for the spooks hadn't done anything toward making me a more sensitive kind of guy. In a way, getting custody of Kate was sort of a blessing. Ten more years, and I would have been a soulless killing machine.
So, I get a job in the private sector doing risk analysis and setting up training programs. Nothing that requires me to go overseas or get my hands dirty. But my years of expertise earn me a pretty penny. I got a home in suburbia, hired a part-time housekeeper/nanny and went about the business of learning how to raise a four year old girl. And then Jessica came into my life.
It was a week after Kate's fifth birthday and we were having Sunday breakfast at Mickey D's. Not my choice for breakfast, but a happy meal toy and a half hour on the plastic jungle gym was heaven on earth for Kate, so who was I to complain? A year of living with Kate had introduced me to the joys of making a little girl happy.
About that time, Jessica sat in a booth not for away from us. She was wearing a baggy coat (it was winter time) and a handkerchief over her head. Not the Muslim kind, but one you see on women forty years older than her during inclement weather. I didn't give her much notice. She was a darker-skinned girl, who I estimated to be in her early teens. As I said, I didn't take much notice of her. I was paying attention to Kate; the part of my brain that categorize and determine risk potential of strangers had analyzed her and then just as quickly dismissed her.
She was looking around, though, as she ate her meal. I don't know if some part of my brain warned me that this signaled potential trouble. But I decided to go ahead and signal to Kate that it was time for us to go home.
That's when trouble began. Kate was in a tube near the top of the gym, so it took her a few minutes to get down to the bottom. Jessica sat straight up as two dark skinned men also came into the restaurant. They quickly scanned the tables and booths and immediately bee-lined to Jessica's table. A quiet but heated conversation between the three ensued. Kate came down from the gym. I quickly scooped her up and headed to the parking lot. If it sounds like I didn't want to get involved with an argument among strangers, you're right.
Unfortunately (though it became fortunately later on), one of the men was trying to yank Jessica out from her booth. When Jessica resisted, he slapped her with the back of his hand. The following 'crack' brought immediate silence in the restaurant.
The man who slapped Jessica looked up at the accusatory stares being leveled against him by the other customers. More than one cell phone had been brought out, undoubtedly punching in 911. Good. The cops would be on the way and could take care of the situation.
"This is none of your business. This woman is my wife and I will discipline her as I see fit."
I think there was more than one shocked look on the faces around him when he announced that Jessica was his wife. The man in question was in his late 40's, and Jessica definitely looked her fourteen years of age. But again, this was a problem for the cops. My business was to get Kate out of there.
A young man, maybe in his early twenties and wearing a small name tag that read "Assistant Manager", walked over to the table and announced to the two men, "I think you gentlemen should leave now. The police are on their way."
The 'husband' rewarded this announcement by pulling out a knife and stabbing the young man. I was keeping Kate turned away from the scene, but the noise was still getting to her. She whispered into my ear "Daddy Jim, please help them." That little voice I couldn't say no to.
I put her down, told her to close her eyes and crawl under a table, then turned back to the disturbance. The 'husband' was brandishing his knife, the assistant manager was curled up on the floor bleeding, and the 'husband's' friend was pulling Jessica out of her booth while Jessica was silently struggling. I rushed them, expecting one or both men to pull out a gun at any time.
There was only one knife between the two of them. I was a little out of practice, but it still wasn't a challenge.
Skip five minutes ahead when the cops and the paramedics show up. Fortunately for our assistant manager, the cut was shallow. Jessica (I still hadn't met her officially yet) was curled up in her booth, and no amount of coaxing was getting her to talk to the cops.
I was giving my statement to the senior officer (who I had vaguely knew, having met him through mutual professional acquaintances) when Kate, who had been watching the cops trying to unsuccessfully communicate with Jessica, piped up. "Daddy Jim, maybe she doesn't speak English. You speak a lot of languages!"
The cop raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. "I pulled a lot of embassy time in the Marines. I know a couple of languages from the Middle East and Central Asia." Actually, I had picked up the languages through other avenues, but there was no reason to go through that. The cop looked at me. "You mind, Jim? At the very least, I can know what kind of translator for the department to send out."
