Mystery Message


Mystery Message


Mystery Message

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After the excitement of the last few days had calmed down, I spent most of my free time at home with my parents. They were both very busy people and hardly ever stayed in one place for too long, which meant that they rarely saw each other except when it was necessary to work or on weekends.

I would join them from time to time if there was a meeting somewhere or a party, but otherwise, we didn’t spend much time together just like this. My father was often traveling overseas for his business and he really couldn’t afford to take any more time off right now since things at work were so bad.

So instead, I went to see him whenever he came back early. He’d been here about three weeks already and my mother hadn’t seen him yet because she had a big project coming up with his clients over in Europe. It was going to be an important presentation and she wanted to make sure everything looked perfect before showing it to anyone else.

That meant that she needed as much time away from the office as possible to prepare for it.

So I’d come home every day after school and visit them until dinner, then go out with them again after dinner and stay with them all night. This happened four nights a week and it was nice to see them so much. I enjoyed spending time with them like this.

It reminded me of how wonderful they were and made me feel closer to them than I had in a long while. As far as I could tell, they weren’t getting sick of having me around either.

Not only did I get to spend time with my parents, but I also got to see my grandfather several times during these visits. He lived nearby in their old family house. It was located about thirty miles outside the city and belonged to my great-grandfather when he was alive.

When my parents bought the apartment building downtown, they asked my grandfather if he would allow us to move our offices into the old family house and let them rent space out to some of his tenants. He agreed without hesitation, and now we used part of the place for the company’s main headquarters.

The rest of it had become the living quarters for my grandparents and I loved visiting them there.

They lived in a large two-story Victorian-style house built in the late 1800s. It was probably even older than that though and had been restored several times in its lifetime. It had high ceilings and large windows that brought lots of light inside. Most of the rooms were spacious and comfortable looking, although the kitchen and bathrooms needed updating badly.

They used the house as their personal residence since they owned nothing else, but my grandfather allowed us to use the first floor for our business operations. It worked out very well because not only did it give us access to the house anytime we needed to talk to my grandfather, but it gave us a lot more room to work in and store files and equipment.

We’d done extensive remodeling on the house over the years, but it still felt like something was missing. Even though I liked the house, it wasn’t what I pictured when I thought of my hometown. It seemed dated and old-fashioned compared to the modern buildings surrounding it. In fact, it was almost like the entire neighborhood was stuck in the past.

There were no new buildings anywhere near us and hardly any cars driving by. It was very quiet and peaceful, but somehow it made me feel uncomfortable. I guess you could say that I missed the energy and vibrancy of the city.

On the first day that I went to see my parents, I decided to bring my camera along so I could take pictures of them together. When I showed them the first few photos, my mom said, “That’s good,” and my dad smiled. But then my grandfather started laughing and saying, “You can do better than that.” After that, I tried taking a few more shots and he kept giving me pointers.

At first, I didn’t know how to respond, but then I finally realized that he was trying to help me improve. He’d always been supportive and encouraging toward me, but I never knew he had such an eye for photography. By the end of the evening, he’d taught me a few tips and tricks that I wouldn’t have figured out on my own.

I thanked him for his help and told him that I’d try to remember what he’d said. He smiled and nodded, but then he frowned slightly and said, “Don’t forget what I said about the light.”

“It’ll be harder to take photos without sunlight,” I admitted.

He shook his head and sighed, “No, that’s not what I meant. You need to learn to understand the light in your photographs. Understand how it moves through the frame and how it affects the subject. Learn to see the light and you can make anything look beautiful.”

I smiled and looked confused, “But how will I ever figure that out?”

My grandfather laughed and patted me on the shoulder, “Just keep practicing. The more you practice, the easier it gets. Besides, you’re a fast learner and I think you’ve got potential.”

I stared at him for a moment and then asked, “Did you know that I took a photography class in college? Do you remember? I told you all about it before I left for school.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Of course, I remember, but it doesn’t matter. You can take classes and read books until you fall asleep, but until you put the knowledge into practice, none of it will mean anything. You might as well have learned nothing at all.”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, “That sounds like something my mother would tell me.”

When I continued to stare at him, he added, “I’m just messing with you. Don’t worry about it. Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Eventually, you’ll learn everything you need to know. Meanwhile, don’t be surprised if your father wants to hire you to do some photography for him.”

“Really?” I asked excitedly.

He nodded, “Yes, really. And if he does, I want to hear about it. Maybe I’ll even ask him to show me your portfolio.”

After that conversation, I spent the rest of the night showing my parents around their home. I showed them all the places where they could relax and spend time together while giving them a tour of the town. On the way back to my hotel, we stopped at a local restaurant for dinner.

My parents insisted on paying, so I ordered something simple—a sandwich and potato chips. As usual, my mom asked me how my job was going and whether or not I enjoyed working for my grandfather. I told her that I loved it and that my boss was awesome, which made my dad smile.

He explained that I’d originally applied for a position at the FBI, but after meeting with my grandfather, I was offered another job opportunity instead.

“What kind of job is it?” my mom asked.

“A special assignment,” I said. “Something that has to do with homeland security and national security.”

“And this assignment involves the FBI? How come I never heard about it?” she asked.

I shrugged and didn’t answer right away. Instead, I looked down at my hands and asked, “Mom…is there something else you wanted to tell me about?”

She hesitated for a moment, but then said, “Oh yes. It’s about your father.”

“Dad?” I asked, but then I saw the expression on her face and quickly replied, “You mean Dad’s job?”

Her frown deepened and I said, “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything before now, but your father has been given a promotion. He’s being transferred to Washington D.C. and will be starting work soon.”

“Washington D.C.? That’s in America, isn’t it?” I asked.

My mother nodded, but then shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you any more than that. Your father asked me not to. If you want to know why I’ll give you his reasons, but only if you promise to keep it between us.”

“Why can’t I know the details?” I asked.

“Because it’s a secret,” she answered. “Your father wants to keep it that way.”

I nodded and then asked, “Is it because he’s working undercover?”

She sighed and shook her head, “No, that’s not it. This is something else. Something quite important. All I can tell you is that it’s an operation that will benefit our country greatly. That’s all I can say.”

When I glanced over at my father, who was staring at his plate, he shrugged and said, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Do you mind if we talk about it later?” I asked.

He nodded and stood up from the table. Then he said, “Sure. Sure, we can talk about it. We’ll see each other again before you leave, right?”

I nodded. “We’ll probably be here for three days. After that, I’ll be leaving for Europe.”

***

The next morning, my father dropped me off at the airport. Before he drove away, he gave me a hug and said, “Call me when you get there and let me know how things are going. If you feel like talking about anything, call me.”

I smiled and hugged him back. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

Then he returned the hug and said, “Love you too.”

Once he drove away, I headed towards the check-in counter. I had two carry-on bags. One of them contained all of the clothes that I’d packed, while the other one held my camera equipment. The flight wouldn’t take long, and once I landed in London, I would be able to catch a train to Paris. From there, I’d hop on a plane to Berlin and finally reach my destination—Vienna.

Once I got through security and checked my bags, I walked out into the main terminal and found a café. As I waited for my coffee, I texted my assistant and told her to have a driver pick me up outside the airport. Once I finished my drink, I headed towards the exit. When I turned back around, I saw a man standing behind me.

He was tall with dark hair and a short beard. His eyes were a light brown color and seemed to glow whenever he smiled. There was something about his smile that made me think that he could make anyone forget their troubles. The man stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder, so I turned around and smiled.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied. “Are you…?”

“You must be Leif,” he said as he smiled.

I laughed and said, “Sorry. You look just like someone who works with my dad, but I don’t know who you are.”

He chuckled and said, “That’s okay. I guess we’ve never met before.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember seeing you before either,” I explained.

He shrugged and said, “I’m afraid I’m famous and people don’t always recognize me.”

I laughed again and said, “Well, you’re not famous here. In fact, most people won’t even recognize you. They’ll think you’re some stranger trying to get close to me.”

His grin grew wider and he said, “That’s exactly what I want.”

I stared at him for a moment and then glanced down at his hands. He was holding mine and staring into my eyes with a smile. There was something strange about his touch and the way that he looked at me. I felt like he knew me somehow. My fingers were tingling, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I squeezed his hand and said, “What’s your name?”

“Leif,” he answered.

“Leif,” I repeated. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. “Are you heading somewhere?”

I nodded and said, “Yes. I’m headed to Vienna.”

“Me too,” he said. “There are many cities in Austria, but they all mean the same thing: city of music. That’s where I’m headed.”

I nodded. “So am I.”

We both smiled and then he said, “Shall we go together?”

“I guess so,” I answered. “How about this? Let’s grab a taxi and head to the train station. It’ll probably be faster than taking a bus.”

He nodded and said, “Sounds good. Here, hold onto my luggage. I’ll walk you to the taxi.”

I took the bags from him and handed them to the driver. Then we climbed into the cab and rode to the train station. After we paid for our tickets and boarded the first carriage, he sat across from me and held out his hand. I noticed that there was something written on his palm.

I reached out and touched it, and when I did, I felt his grip tighten on my hand. I stared at his hand for a second and then looked up and saw him staring back at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head and said, “Nothing. Why?”

He shrugged and said, “It looks like you’re having a bad day.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Not really. Not anymore.”

He smiled and said, “Would you mind if I gave you my number? If you ever need anything, or just want to talk, send me a text message. You can always call me too.”

I hesitated for a few seconds and said, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’d like to help in any way that I can. I’m not sure why yet, but I feel that we’re bound to each other somehow. I see the same things in you that I see in myself.”

Then he gave me his business card and said, “My name is Leif. Call me anytime.”

I slid his business card into my pocket and said, “Okay. Thanks.”

He nodded and said, “Glad to hear it.”

The train pulled out of the station and we fell into silence. I couldn’t believe how strange everything had been. Everything from the way that he looked to the way he behaved, and even the way he kept staring at me. He seemed like a nice guy, but I still wasn’t sure why he would say that we were connected.

A few hours later, the train came to a stop and we disembarked. We grabbed our luggage and made our way through the streets of Vienna. When we finally found a taxi, I climbed inside and looked at him one more time. He was standing outside watching us until we drove away.

The End

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