Love Isn’t Just Blind, It’s Ludicrous

Jammed like a pickled sardine on the express train to 14^th Street with thousands of other commuters, Ryan Random knows there is more to life than assembling computer components and drinking mochaccinos with his co-worker.

As platforms and people flash by in a dizzying blur, Ryan closes his eyes, his mind conjuring up a cozy villa in Greece with a passing stream surrounded by fig trees and grape leaves. Standing in front of the villa, her features a misty blur is a woman.

Opening his eyes, Ryan finds himself next to a grey-haired old man no taller than five feet who bears a striking resemblance to Popeye the sailorman. He nods at Ryan pleasantly, winking at him with his one good eye.

Holding onto the pole across from Ryan is an exotic olive-skinned beauty with wavy black hair. She has dreamy blue eyes, a sharp Roman nose, and a bountiful figure.

Their eyes lock. Ryan feels a calming wave of warmth overtake him, even as his heart rate accelerates.

Ryan manages to say hello.

She replies “Yassou” in a low sensual tone.

Popeye looks at Ryan. He looks at the woman. He looks at both of them again as if to confirm what he’s seeing.

Ryan sweeps back his mane of dark hair, hoping she finds him as attractive as other women do.

“You like her?” Popeye asks Ryan.

“Yes.”

“You like him?” he asks the woman.

The woman nods.

The subway grinds to a halt. The doors open and Ryan follows the crowd onto the platform, where he waits for the girl. He looks left, right, and up the stairs.

The doors close and the empty subway speeds out of the station.

F.B.I. Agent Sloan Pickering examines the corpse lying in the parking lot.

Her partner, Agent Mick Devlin, studies the boxes strewn across the ground.

Sloan huffs. “Between the eyes. Looks professional.” 

Sturdy and serious, with a short undercut blonde hairstyle, Sloan, and her lanky, laid-back clothes horse partner have been working together for over a decade.

Mick scans the small parking lot, which is surrounded by blossoming cherry trees.

“Looks like he came to Cherry Street Station to take a break and rearrange his truck.”

“He should have known better There isn’t even a railroad station here, just a platform.”

Sloan stops to check the ground next to the platform’s sidewalk.

“Bingo.”

“You find something, Sloan?”

“Footprints. Heels.”

Ryan positions his drink in the tray, careful not to jostle his co-worker’s bagel and vanilla swirl coffee. Stepping into the street, he skillfully avoids two rapidly moving commuters texting on their phones.

Turning to laugh at them, he nearly plows into a stylishly dressed woman in high heels.

Looking up, Ryan swallows hard, smiling sheepishly at the exotic, olive-skinned beauty with wavy black hair.

His body temperature rises as he melts into her hypnotic eyes.

“I…I never thought I’d see you again…”

Her accented, smokey voice sends him deeper into a euphoric trance.

“Must be destiny.”

He holds up the tray.

“Would you like some breakfast? Maybe we can sit in the park and talk for a while?”

“Handsome and polite. How can I resist?” she replies. “By the way, my name’s Selene. If you don’t mind, I have a quick errand to run, then we can go to the park and talk.”

Ryan follows Selene to a UPS store.

“Wait here. I’ll only be a moment.”

Ryan watches Selene strut into the store. She follows the lone cashier into the backroom.

Moments later, she exits, carrying a pocket-sized envelope.

The pair find a bench under a tree in the park.

“I like talking to you. But shouldn’t you be at work?” Selene asks.

“I already emailed Sandy, my co-worker, that I found you and I’m going to be late.”

“What do you do?”

Ryan smiles proudly. Putting his finger to his lips, he says, “Sssh. It’s supposed to be hush-hush. We assemble motherboards and other computer components for the government. Our office, Kramden Electronics, is a few doors down from where I ran into you. And you?”

“I’m an exporter.”

Ryan wonders if his broad smile makes him look stupid but plows ahead.

“Can I tell you something? I know this is going to sound like the lamest pickup line you’ve ever heard, but I was immediately attracted to you when I saw you on the subway…”

Selene blushes. “…And I was attracted to you…”

“My heart rate quickened, my body temperature shot sky-high, and I got the jitters. Does that sound silly to you?”

“No. It’s chemistry, a physical attraction. I felt the same way.”

“It’s more than that it’s like we’re…”

“Soul mates,” Selene says.

“I bet you’ve had a lot of admirers.”

“Rich men, even princes,” Selene replies. “But I don’t want to be a trophy wife. And I’m getting tired of this life.”

“I know what you mean,” Ryan says. “I’ve always had the same dream, the same goal in life. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve dreamed about living in a villa by a stream…”

“…With fig trees and grape leaves…,” Selene whispers.

The pair stare blissfully into each other’s eyes.

The sound of a siren breaks the magnetism between them.

“Hey, check it out,” Ryan says. “There’s a bunch of cop cars in front of the UPS store you were in.”

“I still think his wife did in the UPS driver,” Mick says. “They were going through an ugly divorce. She wanted the kid.”

“She’d already been in Ontario for ten days when he was killed.”

“I didn’t say she did it herself. You even said a pro killed Ellis Page.”

“I’ll give you that,” Sloan replies, showing Mick a jam-packed file. “We may have caught a break in the case. There was a fingerprint on the side of the truck. It belongs to Selene Savalas. Born in Greece, she’s used the alias’s Maureen Moustakis, Zina Zervas, and Constance Constantinides. She lived in Italy for twelve years, where she became a contract killer for the Demos family.”

“I’ve heard of them. They’re ruthless.”

“They steal anything, guns, drugs, technology, cryptocurrency, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

“So, what was Ellis Page carrying that got him killed?” Mick asks.

“I dunno, at least not yet. But I do have a copy of his route and manifest for that day. Savalas probably used her looks to distract him.”

Mick pulls a mirror out of his desk, checking his expensive haircut. “You sound a bit jealous.”

Sloan grits her teeth. “I hate women that do that. I want this one bad, Mick. I knew Ellis.”

“I don’t want to stake out a dozen locations, hoping she’ll show up,” Mick replies. “Let’s cut out the middleman. Where does she live?”

“According to the Bureau’s records, in the East River.”

Mick rubs his eyes, staring at the video screen.

“This is a one in a zillion chance, Sloan,” he says, sighing heavily.

“Three people near Fourteenth Street that we questioned said they’d seen Savalas or a woman that fits her description. They saw her walking toward the apartments in the area, so there’s a chance she’s living near the subway station.”

“All we’ve got so far is a glimpse of her at the UPS store before she shot the camera. Wait…”

Mick points at the screen.

The pair slap five as the surveillance camera at the 14^th Street Station shows Selene Savalas getting off the subway train.

Sloan pretends to be a jogger stretching as she leans against a stop sign on 14^th Street. At the other end of the block, Mick kneels next to a feeble tree picking up after a police dog.

“Yuk. Next time you get dog doody patrol,” Mick whispers into his communications device. “Amos likes you a lot more than me anyway. This mutt just soiled my Cole Haan’s.”

Mick looks up in time to see a stunning brunette breeze by.

“Subject sighted… Heading in your direction… We’ll nail her at the corner…”

Selene approaches Sloan. Sloan pulls her service revolver out from her jacket and shows her badge, identifying herself.

Selene considers turning around and running.

“Don’t even think about it, you Kardashian clone, or you’ll get exactly what you gave your victims.”

Mick runs up the block yelling at Amos. The dog has gotten free from his leash and is running toward Sloan.

Amos jumps into Sloan’s arms, knocking her off her feet.

Selene takes off, putting a block between herself and the agents in a matter of seconds.

Helping Sloan to her feet, the agents and Amos sprint after Selene, rapidly losing ground.

Selene turns a corner, disappearing.

Puffing and wheezing, Mick and Sloan scan the empty street.

“She moves pretty well for a chick in high heels,” Mick pants.

“There,” Sloan says, pointing at The White Whale Bar. “Perfect place to hide among the locals. Check the back.”

Sloan enters The White Whale. A short, grey-haired old man resembling Popeye buffs a few glasses. Three red-faced soused seniors rearrange their rumbled clothes and whistle at Sloan.

“Any of you Neanderthals see a pretty brunette pass through here?”

“You mean prettier than you?” one drunk slurs. “That’d be a miracle, sweet pea.”

A tall, sloshed blonde woman who’s seen better days bellows, “This is my bar toots. Get your own boy toys.”

“Cállate. Gretchen. Shaddup,” Popeye mutters.

Mick enters the barroom. Brushing dust off his suit, he says, “Nope. I even checked the garbage cans.”

Approaching Popeye, Sloan asks. “Did you see her?”

“No entiendo,” Popeye responds.

“What?”

“That means I don’t understand you.”

“Looks like she’s not only a top assassin, she’s also a magician,” Sloan huffs.

Sandy Shopmaker downs his fourth glass of Guinness beer. Focusing on the football game, he absentmindedly glances at the woman sitting down next to him.

He does a double take, staring wide-eyed at the exotic olive-skinned beauty with wavy black hair.

“What’s?...”

“Yes, I know. What’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this? My name’s Selene.”

“I work with a friend who’s head over heels for a girl with that name. Would that happen to be you?”

Selene gives Sandy a seductive smile.

“I’ve been watching you. I was hoping Ryan would introduce us, but since he hasn’t, I thought I’d take the initiative.”

“You mean, I’m the guy you really want?”

Sandy calls over to the bartender. “I’m stunned, awestruck, dumbfounded! I need booze and plenty of it. Two shots of Jameson. Give Selene whatever she wants too.”

Selene’s eyes sparkle. “So, do you assemble computer parts too?”

“Yeah, I’m one of the best. I’ve got a lotta motherboards and parts at home, too. I know it's against the rules to take sensitive equipment out of the building, but I like tinkering with them at home.”

“Well, maybe you can show me some of your work.”

Ryan punches in his security code, opening the door.

Padding along the carpet into the workroom, Ryan gasps when he sees a well-dressed man and a butchy-looking woman waiting for him.

They introduce themselves, with Mick adding in an understanding tone, “Why don’t you sit down.”

“Where’s Sandy?”

“That’s what we’re here about,” Sloan says. “He’s dead.”

Ryan guzzles at his mochaccino, unaware of the foam on his lips as Mick and Sloan give him the details of Sandy’s death.

“We’re sure your office is being targeted,” Mick says. “The employees in your office in Ann Arbor have already been killed.”

“Do you know a woman named Selene Savalas?”

Mick and Sloan notice Ryan visibly twitch.

“Why?”

Mick runs his manicured nails across a three-thousand-dollar suit.

“Savalas is an assassin for hire. She murdered a UPS delivery man to steal a shipment of computer chips bound for this office that are encrypted with sensitive information.”

Ryan snickers. “I thought we were assembling motherboards for school and businesses. Why send sensitive information by UPS?”

“Less conspicuous. And the information is useless unless you know the access code,” Sloan replies. “We think your girlfriend’s employers have it.”

“The driver, Ellis Page, was an agent with the Secret Service and was armed. Savalas still managed to kill him. So where is she, Random?” Mick asks.

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

Sloan grabs Ryan, pulling her toward him. “Okay, play stupid, Random. Maybe you’re in love with her. She’s made you think she’s in love with you, but she’s playing you for a patsy. Savalas is a threat to national security. She’s killed a dozen people or more in the name of money. You want to see the hole she put in Sandy Shopmaker’s head, Random?”

“…. I don’t know her…”

“Fine,” Mick says, heading toward the door. “By the way, this office is closed. You’re on paid leave. That’ll give you more time to spend with your girlfriend.”

Sloan picks up the bagel meant for Sandy.

“You eating, this? No? Keep protecting her, you lovestruck fool. Just remember, Random, you’re next.”

Sloan slams the steering wheel of their undercover car.

“We’ve got the subway covered, the UPS store, and Random’s office. Where is she?”

“Probably watching us,” Mick says playfully.

Sloan gives Mick a searing look.

Standing near the corner, Selene hands Ryan a pair of binoculars.

“Yeah, those are the two agents who came to the office.”

“They lied about me.”

“Did they?” Ryan asks. “You killed my best friend.”

“He was going to turn us in. He came at me. He tried to kill me. I had no choice.”

“And this life you lead…”

“It was over the moment I met you,” Selene replies.

He looks into her eyes. “I believe you. We could go back to my place, wait a while, and then make a run for it.”

Selene kisses Ryan on the cheek. The warmth of her lips conjures up visions of a villa in Greece.

“I’m thinking about our villa too,” Selene says. “There’s a way we can get inside and get away. Are you ready?”

A Cadillac SUV with tinted windows and an extended bumper pulls up in front of The White Whale. The diver honks the horn.

A statuesque brunette steps out of the bar and is bathed in the bright luminescence of the nearby streetlight.

“There she is, your Moby Dick,” Mick utters.

“I bet that’s Random behind the wheel,” Sloan declares.

“Love isn’t just blind, it’s ludicrous,” Mick replies.

“We’ll stop them at the corner,” Sloan says.

“We’d better. Once they get to the West Side Highway, they’ve got a clean route upstate,” Mick replies. “We may never catch them.”

“Well, stop fixing your tie and follow them!”

Picking up speed, the SUV breaks through the barricade, splintering it. Turning the corner, it sideswipes three parked cars.

Sloan barks commands into the radio. “All units, black Cadillac SUV, License plate VOODOO, headed south on Fourteenth Street.”

“Jeez. He’s driving like he doesn’t know how to drive,” Mick comments.

Accelerating, the SUV runs a red light. Mick follows, slamming on the brakes when a lumbering UPS truck pulls out in front of them.

Passing the truck, Mick steps on the accelerator, closing the distance between them as three police cars flashing their lights and blaring their sirens join the chase.

“He’s headed the wrong way,” Sloan notes. “We’ll have him soon.”

The SUV spins in a tight circle, the rear of the car turning around to the front. It speeds past its pursuers, turning onto the highway.

Selene and Ryan wait until the F.B.I. and the police have cleared the area before making their way to The White Whale.

The old men at the bar cordially wave at Selene and return to drinking their free liquor.

Opening the door to the basement, the couple hustle down the stairs to the concrete wall across from the oil burner. Ryan pushes against it, revealing a set of stairs leading to Selene’s hideaway.

“I bet you're going to miss these expensive-looking digs,” Ryan comments, looking at the opulent rugs, furniture, and art.

“We’re trading a hideaway for a home,” Selene says.

The couple pick up a pair of duffle bags sneaking out of the hidden exit.

A large barricade has been set up across all three lanes of the highway. Behind it, half a dozen F.B.I. and police vehicles with their emergency lights blinking form a second barrier. Two dozen agents and officers with rifles and automatic guns draw a bead on the approaching SUV.

Sloan’s voice crackles over the radio. “…Stop them any way you can…”

The SUV slows.

Mick slams on the brakes of their unmarked car. Jumping out and pulling their weapons, Sloan and Mick surround the SUV.

“Get out with your hands on your head!” Sloan screams.

A short man with bulging forearms resembling Popeye hops out of the driver’s side. An intoxicated woman stumbles out of the passenger’s side.

Mick rips off her brunette wig, revealing she’s a blonde.

“…Gretchen, the lush at the bar,” Sloan grumbles.

“Some Italian babe paid me five grand to take a ride. I didn’t know it would get this crazy,” Gretchen says, staggering.

Sloan inspects the inside of the SUV. Popeye used an accelerator extension to reach the pedals.

“Why did you help them?”

Popeye winks his one good eye. “True love can cleanse a person. Even someone like Selene.”