12.

I loved Washington, but found it a city of contrasts. The city centre was really nice and all the various historic buildings were really cool. But beneath the surface, there was almost a third world lurking behind the thin veneer. It was strange to me to see the difference between the rich and the poor, mainly 'African-Americans', and in a land which was supposed to promote fairness and freedom, there was a real gulf between the rich, mainly white, and the poor, mainly not.

The fashion show was a success, and as we wrapped up after the second and last day, I felt very melancholy. It was about five in the afternoon and I was sitting in my room, just reflecting on the tour and looking at some of the many photographs that had been taken of me by Natasha's photographer. I was going to be able to use these in my portfolio, and I was very pleased with them. There was a knock on the door. I frowned, as this was unusual. I went and looked and there was a man in a suit on the other side.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"FBI, Miss Lake."

"Badge please."

He put the badge up so I could see it through the spy hole.

I opened the door.

"His, I'm Special agent Jim Ryan. Deputy Director Garside send his regards and thought you would like to see this." he said, handing me a single piece of A4 paper.

I invited him in. He came in and looked at my case and clothes on the bed.

"Going home now?"

"Yeah, it's been fun." I said, and started to read the paper. It was a report.

Re: Case GD/94658/02

Director of the FBI.

1. On the 20th July 2002, I was approached by one Jonathon LAKE, a UK national, who stated he wished to supply information relating to the illegal importation of narcotics into the United States by one Francis HOLLAND, another UK national. In return LAKE requested immunity from prosecution and entry into the Witness Protection Programme.

2. I initiated background checks of both men, and HOLLAND has a lengthy record with the UK Police, for offences as diverse as armed robbery, prostitution, supply of drugs and extortion. LAKE has no convictions but is currently under investigation for three homicides of men believed to be working for HOLLAND.

3. LAKE is also suspected of various business dealings which are spurious in nature, and UK Trading Standards Officers are anxious to talk to him. It is understood that HOLLAND lost a deal due to LAKE, and believes LAKE owes him a substantial amount of money, in the region of $8,000,000.

4. LAKE has one daughter, Alexandra(Sandi) who is 17. His wife is deceased, and he has no current partner. HOLLAND employed three men to locate LAKE's Daughter, and whilst holding her, the three men met their deaths at the hands of a person unknown, but suspected to be LAKE.

5. LAKE then provided the British Serious Crime Squad with information, using his daughter as a courier. I stress, his daughter has no knowledge of her father's activities, except she guessed them to be illegal. As a result of this information she was given protection by the Metropolitan Police.

6. In order to attempt to force LAKE to hand over the money demanded, and force him to reveal his whereabouts, HOLLAND ARRANGED the abduction and kidnapping of ALEXANDRA, which was witnessed by police, and armed units contained the stronghold. Miss Lake was freed by police, and one perpetrator lost his life having opened fire on police.

7. Now wanted by the UK Police, HOLLAND fled to the US under a false passport. LAKE's information related to a single shipment of Cocaine estimated to the value of $16,000,000, which was expected to enter the US through Florida.

8. HOLLAND attempted the abduction of Miss Lake as she was in the US working as a model. This was thwarted by the brave and quick thinking young woman, and the FBI undertook close protection of her.

9. LAKE's application for the witness protection programme was considered and approved, pending the successful execution of the operation against HOLLAND.

10. HOLLAND made contact with Alexandra, who, in conjunction with the FBI and her father, initiated the first phase of the operation. LAKE attended the parking lot of the Miami Sands Hotel, and initiated a staged argument with his daughter. Police officers interceded, and LAKE attempted to draw a concealed weapon, and was shot twice by one of the officers. A decoy bag of marked money($2,000,000) was left and HOLLAND collected it during the confusion.

11. With LAKE now believed to be dead, HOLLAND proceeded to import the Cocaine. However, undercover agents tracked the shipment, and there was a large-scale interception made at the point of pay off.

12. Eight men we killed, including HOLLAND, two of his lieutenants, Winston GALE and Michael MOORE. Five unknown Jamaicans were also shot dead and four men were arrested.

13. The Cocaine was seized, and was in excess of the initial estimate and has a street value of over $20,000,000. The cash picked up by HOLLAND was also located intact together with a further $10,000,000 in used $100 bills.

14. I wish to bring to your attention the courage and selflessness of ALEXANDRA LAKE, who for a young woman of only 17 years, has displayed enormous integrity and loyalty in the face of personal danger and difficulty.

Her relationship with her father is difficult as she distances herself from his dishonest and amoral dealings. She is, in short, one heck of a girl.

15. JONATHON LAKE is now in the witness protection programme, and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, died in the parking lot that evening.

Submitted for your information, and dissemination as appropriate.

Robert L. Garside.

Dep. Director. FBI.

"So, it is all over?" I said, giving the report back to him.

"Looks that way. I have to give you this."

He handed me a death certificate. My father's death certificate, and it was signed by the official in Miami.

"What about a funeral?"

"We are arranging for his ashes to be delivered to your home address. That is the official line, as you requested cremation."

"I did?"

"So my boss said."

"Then I must have done. Do I have to report this to my consulate, or

something?"

"There is a covering letter, we have notified the consulate, but you'd be

advised to drop into the British Embassy here in Washington before you fly out."

"Thank God. Am I allowed to get on with my life now?"

"Sure. And my boss says, 'Thanks and good luck'."

I smiled, feeling very weary. It was all so clinical, just seeing it written in a report like that. It was rather an anti-climax somehow. The agent left, and I went to find Simon. He was on the phone in his room. I frowned, as he hadn't used his room at all, since he slept with me. He finished his call and smiled.

"Hi, I saw you had company, was he FBI?"

"Yeah, it's over at last. Holland is dead."

"Oh, great. So life can carry on as usual."

"Some life! I am going back to an empty house, and an empty life without you."

"When does school start?"

"Next week. I think I am going to drop out. I have enough money, maybe I can

get a job near you?"

He held me in his arms.

"I don't know where I am going to be."

I frowned, he was being uncharacteristically secretive, and having lived with Dad for so long, I knew when things were being kept from me. But I let it go, as I was too tired to make an issue of it.

"Fancy a walk?" I asked, and we went for a last walk.

"I am going to miss you so much," I said, with my arm wrapped round his waist.

"You'll get stuck into your studies, so you won't even notice the time."

"I bloody will! Every night, as I go to bed alone."

He smiled, and held me close. I appreciated his size now, and smiled as I had

not fully appreciated it when I had first seen him.

"What time is your flight?"

"Eight in the evening, it gets in at seven am UK time."

"Well at least you can get some sleep."

"Wow. What fun," I said, and he laughed.

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" I asked.

"Mom flies back to New York, and I am flying to my new job."

"Oh yes, what is it?"

"Teaching art in a high school."

"Lucky buggers. I wish you would come to Britain. I'd stay on at school if you

were my teacher."

"That would be cool, but hardly professional."

"What?"

"Sleeping with a student."

"We wouldn't do much sleeping," I teased and he laughed.

"I am going to miss you so much," I repeated.

"I know. Me too. But, we will get together real soon."

"Yeah, fat chance."

We looked at the White House, which was all lit up, and walked back. I didn't feel like talking, as I was feeling bloody miserable, for two reasons, my period and I was leaving.

We went to bed, and I just wanted to be held, and Simon cuddled me all night. I cried a little, but eventually dropped off to sleep. The next day, after breakfast, Natasha came and hugged me, and gave me a huge cheque.

"I want to book you for next year. And if you ever get qualifications in design, you will come and work for me," she stated, and I smiled. Simon certainly knew his mother.

She gave me any of the clothes from the collection that I wanted, and I took eight. It was very generous, but she explained that this show tour had gleaned record orders, and she felt that it was wholly down to me.

"I can't guarantee the same publicity next year," I said, and she laughed.

"Next year we will be planning a wedding," she said, and I laughed, but uncertain whose wedding she referred to.

Simon held me for ages, and I wept unashamedly. I watched them all depart, and felt really miserable. I packed, and went to the Embassy and registered my father's death. It was surreal, as the clerk was very sympathetic and obviously was only aware of the story from the newspapers and TV. It had made the TV news in the US, and also in the UK. I then spent the rest of the day wandering round the Smithsonian.

Finally, I took a cab to the airport and checked in. I had to pay excess for my heavy luggage, but what the hell, my dresses were worth over $15,000. I went to the first class lounge, and waited for my plane. A couple of people recognised me, and I signed autographs, but I was mainly left in peace. The flight was announced, and the first class passengers were boarded last. I made my way to the aircraft, and was shown to my seat. The seat next to me was unoccupied. I hoped it would remain so.

I sat down, and leafed through the magazine. Someone arrived and put their bags in the overhead locker. Damn. There went my solitude. I looked out the window at the ground crew getting ready to push back.

"Does this plane go to London?" this voice asked.

Silly fool. I thought, and then recognised the voice. I spun round and saw Simon smiling at me.

"Surprise!" he said, and I punched him on the jaw.

He rode the punch, and I hurt my hand.

"You bastard!" I said. "I was bloody miserable, and you fucking well knew!"

He grinned, and opened his arms, and like a complete idiot I went to him.

"I couldn't tell you, I wanted to surprise you."

"One thing you need to know about me. I hate surprises."

"And you have a mean right hook."

I smiled, and kissed him better.

"So, how come you are on this flight, I thought you were heading south?"

"Well, I am taking a little detour."

"Why?"

"So I could be with you."

"Some detour."

He took out a piece of paper.

"Here, this is my temporary appointment to teach art at a high school during a female teacher's maternity leave. I am there for three terms only. Is a term the same thing as a semester?"

"What is a semester?"

"It is what we have in American schools."

I frowned, I was being a bit thick, but the penny slowly dropped.

"It is for the Brighton High School, Sussex, England."

I stared at him, and broke down into tears. He held me, as I was just overcome. A stewardess came over.

"Is she all right sir?"

"She is fine, we have just become engaged," he said.

"Oh, how wonderful, congratulations."

That stopped me crying. I sat up and stared at him.

"What did you say?"

"Well it stopped you crying."

"Simon."

"What?"

"You can't go around saying that."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't true?"

"Will you marry me?"

I stared at him.

"Well?"

"I'm six years younger than you."

"So, marry me?"

"You are my art teacher for God's sake."

"So? Marry me."

"I'm going mad."

"Then marry me before they lock you up."

Everything that was in me that was labelled 'Common Sense' screamed 'NO' at me.

But everything else wanted to be with him forever.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"Yes you can."

I looked into his eyes, and saw all the love in the world.

"Simon?"

"What?"

"Why?"

"Because I love you with all my heart, all my soul and all my lower intestine. I want to grow old with you, and hide your teeth."

I started to laugh, and he held me close. I only just realised, we had taken off.

"Well?" he said.

"Oh all right, but we can't make it official, the school wouldn't allow it."

"I don't have a problem with that. As long as you wear the ring."

He handed me a box, and opened it. I gasped in surprise, for inside lay the most enormous diamond I had ever seen.

"Simon, I can't wear that. It's massive!"

He took it out and slipped it onto my left ring finger. Then he gently kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you. You have just made me the happiest man alive."

I went from an extreme low to the dizziest high I had ever experienced. My brain was telling me that I was a fool, but my heart and soul soared along side the Boeing 747. The cabin crew brought us champagne, and I showed my ring off, I had a huge grin stapled in place. I was so much in love that I ached inside. I had a fleeting thought of Dave, and with it came a pang of guilt, but then I realised that he knew me better than I had anticipated.

The flight went like a dream, and Simon and I just talked all through the night. We made no plans, as both of us knew that plans were fickle things, we just were prepared to take one day as it came.

"So, I take it you are going back to school now?"

I grinned.

"I hear there is a really hunky new art teacher, so I'll have to check him out."

"I'm jealous," he said, and I kissed him.

"Where will you stay?"

"I hear there is a nice house on the Eastbourne road, some girl is looking to take a lodger."

"Oh, I don't know, her fiancé is a real big guy, he might get jealous."

"Settled then," he said, and grinned.

"The school are going to go spare. I'm still only seventeen."

"Going on twenty-five. You haven't looked in a mirror recently, obviously."

"What do you mean?"

He picked up the Washington Post, and turned to the fashion pages. He folded it and passed it to me.

"Look."

I looked at it. I was on the catwalk, and was wearing a dress, which was now in my suitcase. I looked very different to how I thought I looked from the inside, and he was right, as I looked over twenty. It was the eyes more than anything else. Those eyes that had seen people die, and they reflected the pain that I had undergone over the past few years. But there was a confidence and joy, which sprung out of being the person I wanted to be, and the girl in me was just ecstatic to be just that, a girl.

"Hardly a schoolgirl, huh?" he asked.

I smiled.

"Inside I am."

He gently kissed me.

"You know it and I know it, and we both know you have seen and done more than most thirty year olds."

"Maybe, but I haven't had much time as being me."

"Then we can enjoy that together."

I snuggled against him, and just enjoyed him holding me. I actually dozed off for a while. We landed on schedule, at Heathrow Terminal Three, and slowly walked along the piers towards the immigration desks.

We had to split up as he went through the long queue for Non-EC passengers, and I whizzed through and went to the baggage hall. He wasn't that long, and soon we were locating and heaving the cases off the conveyor. He laughed at the amount of luggage I had, but then realised that he was going to be the one pushing it. We managed to balance it all on one trolley, and went through the 'Nothing to declare' door, and onto the concourse.

"I'll hire a car," he declared, and he made for the car rental desks. Being twenty-three there was a real problem, so we took a cab in the end. The black cab driver was delighted, as he would make enough from us to take the rest of the day off. I negotiated a reasonable fare with him, and while we were doing so, he looked closely at me.

"'ere, are you that model they call Superbabe?"

"Yes, I'm Sandi Lake."

"Shit, you made the papers over here, your old man was shot by the old bill, or something?"

"That's right. Look, do we have to go through all this again?"

"I'm sorry, but my son has your pictures all over 'is bleedin' wall at home.

He'll be chuffed to know you've been in my cab."

"What is your son's name?"

"Mikey."

I signed the photo from the newspaper, and gave it to him. I had written, To Mikey, with love from Sandi Lake.He then knocked off a few quid from the agreed fare, and we were off. Fame has its advantages. Simon was still cross about not being able to rent a car. I smiled, and thought of the cars in the garage back home.

"Simon, do you like Jaguars?"

"You bet. Why?"

"There is a brand new one in the garage, it's mine now, so all we have to do is get a mortgage for the insurance."

"Do you drive?"

"Only a motorcycle. I've not had a chance to drive a car. I do have a provisional licence."

"I'll teach you."

"I take proper lessons first, you may find driving in England very different to America."

He grinned, and held me close as we sped out of the London sprawl, and made our way south.