Chapter 10: The Discovery
After she drove off, George pulled out his phone and redialed the number. It was Harry's work line. Casting a cautious look around the car park to ensure no one was within earshot, he went to stand beside the landlord's old Pathfinder in the parking lot and put the phone near his ear when he heard Harry's voice float in.
"Boss," Harry greeted, his voice devoid of the familiarity associated with their friendship. George loved the fact that Harry and Chris could separate their work relationship from their friendship when the situation called for it.
"Speak," he ordered, assuming the same serious tone Harry addressed him with.
"There's good news and a problem, boss."
George gritted his teeth; he hated problems, but with a job like this, it was inevitable. "Spill it, Agent H." The code name was necessary for their safety.
"Richard's boys have all been rounded up. Their trial begins this week. The captain orders your return to base."
George almost did a victory dance at hearing that. Almost. The thought that Martin Hu, their captain, hadn't bothered to call him and inform him first-hand irked him. He had risked his whole life and even his mental stability for this operation, gone undercover for over a year as one of Richard's lackeys. The things he had been forced to do so as not to blow his cover still gave him nightmares to this day. It was how he began smoking in the first place, and yet the man couldn't appreciate hard work. It was getting clearer to him now that he could never please Martin; he might as well stop trying.
"That's good news, H. What's the problem then?"
A deep sigh could be heard over the phone. "We have finally gotten personal information about Richard. He has a brother who's a waste as well. Only this time he wastes away his own life by drinking. They seem to be twins too."
George couldn't see where Harry was going with this; he seemed really hesitant to get straight to the point. He was already losing his patience; his stomach was beginning to protest for not having breakfast yet. "How is that a problem? Maybe if I should guess, his brother threatened to come over here and kill him for sending his precious twin to a holding cell." George smirked at the thought; such threats were common as well, but nothing that couldn't easily be handled.
Harry cleared his throat. "His father is Peter Jackson."
The name tingled in his head with familiarity but he just couldn't place it. George didn't have to think too hard about it though, as Harry quickly supplied, "Peter Jackson, the tenth biggest business mogul in Chicago. He donated thirty patrol cars to the force last two years."
George's eyes widened involuntarily with the shock of the news. If Peter Jackson was Richard's father, then keeping Richard locked up for good might be a tougher battle than he anticipated. The man had won the hearts of top officials in the justice sector with his generosity.
"That's not all, boss," Harry breathed in. George's hands tightened on his phone, dreading whatever Harry wanted to say next.
"You know I looked up your recent fixation as you asked me to. You are right, she's not your average lady at all."
Heart dropping into his stomach, George shook his head in denial. God, please let it not be. Let it not be.
"She's the only daughter of Peter Jackson."
The swear words that left George's lips echoed throughout the neighborhood.
George sat on his bed, elbows planted on his desk, and head in his palms. His eyes followed the fanciful pattern of the tiles that floored his room. It had been over an hour and he was still drawing blanks on what to do.
As soon as he came in after the bomb Harry dropped, he had rushed to his laptop and went to search Isla Jackson on Google. The search results were the same as the first time he did it, mostly talking about her writing career, books she had written, accolades won, her educational background. It seemed like her family background was deliberately omitted in all of them until he clicked open the last article on the last search result page.
The site opened to a picture of Peter Jackson hugging a teenage version of Isla. They seemed to be in an airport, the heading read in bold letters 'FATHER-DAUGHTER TENDER MOMENT, JACKSON SEES DAUGHTER OFF AS SHE DEPARTS FOR COLLEGE.' It struck George like a hard blow how careless he had been; his distaste for reading had gotten the better of him this time.
If he had possessed the slightest clue of her connection with Richard, George wouldn't have let the relationship go further than a 'hello neighbor—hi neighbor' basis.
It was odd as well, Isla alone without her father's influence had enough money to buy a condo in the heart of the city. It didn't make sense that she lived here. Was she perhaps disowned or unable to fully access her funds due to a crime? Was she hiding from something? That made little sense too, considering she was actively writing; anyone could trace her with that alone.
What was he even supposed to do now? Telling her what he did for a living was totally out of the question for now; who knows what she would think? Probably that he knew her identity, and came here to spy on her and get more information on her family. She could even rat him out to her dad. The man had enough connections to make his life a living hell in just a day.
Perhaps ending the relationship was the best option for George. Yet, he knew he was already in so deep that it would tear at his heart to do so. He was also even more curious now to know more about her. Why was someone like her living here of all places? What if she was running her own underground business here and just using the books she wrote as a cover? He hadn't seen anything implicating in her apartment that night, but then again he hadn't been looking for such.
Nodding to himself, George reached a conclusion. He would keep his work affairs secret; pretend he didn't know anything about her family. See how much she could unwittingly divulge. He had to know if he could eventually trust her enough to tell her what he had been up to.
He prayed she would believe him when the time came. That she would believe he was completely ignorant of her background when he moved here. For sure, she would be angry when he eventually informed her, but he could lie and say he didn't find out until recently, whenever that was.
"God above," George whispered, "may she be innocent of all the crimes her brother committed so she wouldn't be caught in the crossfire."
Given the nature of his job, perhaps he would get a bullet to his chest before he even needed to tell Isla the truth.