Chapter 7
Damien
Play - West Coast by Lana Del Rey
Old Floors
I'd expected St. Ellesta to feel like a fortress, but it wasn’t the case.
There was something unsettling about how ordinary it looked.
The grey brick, the trimmed hedges, the students laughing on their way to class.
If someone had dropped me here blindfolded, I'd have guessed Ivy League before the FBI. The official part of the arrival takes less time than expected. Paperwork, a name badge, a brief tour I don’t really need.
By the time it’s over, I’m already in the professor’s suite set up for my cover.
I can see the sea from my window; the cliff opposite is high, but it's special to be here and look at it. A far cry from where I grew up, the noise, the people, the heat, and the memories and loneliness.
Many people would find it beautiful and calm, the way the ocean moves irregularly, the sound of the waves crashing against the island's high rocks. For me, it was more of a violent and cold landscape, maybe that’s why I like it that much.
“Mr Caldwell, do you like it?” The headmaster, Spencer Porter, smiled as he handed me the last papers to sign.
“The apartment is very high up, you have a very nice view from here,” I replied as I turned to face him.
He approaches me, gazing out the window.
“St. Ellesta was just a small-town college before the former headmaster, over forty years ago, decided to turn it into an FBI-affiliated academy. The view from here is spectacular. The student campus is just a few meters away, and the training facilities are at the end of this driveway,” he says, pointing to a large reddish building.
“You were probably given the schedule before you arrived.”
He hands me the sheet of paper again, which I take and read. “I received all that information this morning. I also took a residence further away to ensure the sealed files weren't left unattended.”
He nodded before chuckling, “I’m not entirely sure what the FBI is looking for in our small Seraphin Bay town, but I hope you find it. As long as our students learn things, I’m happy.”
“Perfect then, I’ll sign this. You can put it on the desk.”
He smiled, then did as I asked and went to the door. “I’ll leave the keys in the entrance, Mr Caldwell. Or should I say, Professor Caldwell?”
“Thank you, Mr Porter.”
“Welcome to St. Ellesta,” he said before disappearing from my sight.
I didn't bring that much, but I'm leaving everything here. The apartment has fairly high ceilings, and it's rustic, with lots of brown tones. The office is opposite the bedroom, the kitchen is simple, and so is the bathroom. But it's enough; everything seems comfortable.
All I need is to check if the apartment is clean. No microphones, no cameras, nothing. After a few minutes of searching, my phone vibrates. I fish around to retrieve it, and glance at the caller ID before accepting it.
“Go for Caldwell,” I say into the receiver.
“It’s Kyle. All relevant case files should have been sent over to you by now. Look for anything that might be relevant to the case.”
“I'll check it out, thank you.”
“So, how are you doing? What's it like over there?” Kyle asks.
“Cold, and dark too, it's practically nighttime already.”
“You'll take care of yourself, okay? Lena, Rylan, and I are handling the missions here.”
“I know. I'm going to drop off everything you left me at a house I bought further from campus.”
“Great, you'll send us pictures, right?” He laughs.
“Yeah, right. Well, I'll let you go. The apartment on campus is clean. I'll send you a message with the address information if needed.”
“Okay, that's all good. Take care and come back in one piece. We'll keep in touch, and don't miss any of my calls, or I'll worry about you.”
“I’m your boss, Kyle. You should never miss any of my calls, or I’ll be the one worried. Take care of the team.”
“You’re also my friend so don’t fuck around. Bye, Boss.”
I put my phone back in my pocket before leaving.
My files are in my gym bag, along with everything else that matters. There's a second backup phone connected to my workstation in my unit office. Kyle can locate it if something happens and the files are compromised.
I take the car and head toward the house I bought farther out on the island.
The night has already swallowed the shoreline, and the sky is hazy.
Sea-salt air slips in through the open window as I light a cigarette.
I really should quit, but nothing settles my nerves faster than a lungful of smoke before starting over.
Small pole lamps lit the streets; the houses were quite rustic, with sloping roofs.
Some children were playing on their way home.
It was quiet and soft, as if life here was different for some reason.
I pass a house and notice a woman sitting on a tilted rooftop. Cigarette burning between her fingers, like she’s been there too many times to fear falling.
Her raven hair keeps getting blown around by the wind, half in her face, half not, but she doesn’t really move to fix it.
Without realizing it, I slowed down the car. I wanted to get out and see if she was alright, but at that moment, she raised her head, and I realized she was crying. She had the saddest and loneliest gaze I’ve ever seen, free of feeling as if being here by herself was her only escape.
Immediately afterward, a child's voice came up, and I saw her turn her head toward the open window to answer, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand and crushing her cigarette on the tiles. “I'm coming,” she shouted before climbing back up and going back in.
Strange.
I resumed driving until I finally hit the location.
The house was secluded, small, and simple, but the view was beautiful. It was just steps from the edge of the cliff, where the waves crashed angrier against it.
I parked the car, took out my bag, and pushed the door open.
Inside, there was nothing luxurious: a brown sofa, an old fireplace, and large windows that let in the moonlight.
The house had been cleaned before my arrival, and the air still smelled of cleaning products.
I put my bag in the safe; it was what had convinced me to choose this house in the first place, then checked the other rooms. Again, no cameras, nothing, this place is also safe.
Then I hit the road again to return to campus.
Tomorrow is a new day, and a huge amount of work awaits me.