Devlin's Defiance: Book Two of the Devlin Quatrology Read online

  - 12 -

  November 12, 2012

  2:21 p.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  "Hi, Rosemary, and welcome back. How ya doing?”

  “Hi, Gordy. Good, thanks. You?”

  “On a day like today,” he said, pointing at the clear sky, “and with the seabreeze warming the water, I'd say maybe a B plus, A minus.”

  “It is nice.”

  “Good summer?”

  “It was, eh, okay. You?”

  “Great.”

  “I'm glad.”

  “How's Kevin?”

  “He's okay, but he's frustrated with closing down the Chicago warehouse.”

  “You're closing it down?”

  “Yeah; the unions are killing us, and Chicago politics, too. It's all so corrupt.”

  “For sure. Gonna drive the city into bankruptcy, right after Detroit takes the plunge. And then the whole state of Illinois will probably follow.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Well, corruption is part of all governments, always has been, always will be.”

  “You think so?”

  “Well, I'd bet no one could find any government anywhere in the world or at any time in history that wasn't corrupt in some way.”

  “Don't think I'd take that bet.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Even here in Bonita?”

  “Probably, if someone looks deep enough. I haven't, but some folks are. And you can just watch or read the news.”

  “Wow.”

  “Nothing compared to Chicago, of course. I can only imagine how that's affected your business and Kevin.”

  “I think hitting 50 is stressful, too. I worry about him.”

  “Well, that's a mom's job, isn't it?”

  “Yeah, but I remember how tough 50 was for me.”

  “You made it through okay, though, at least from what I can see.”

  “Thanks, Gordy. You always make me feel good.”

  He chuckled. “Missed me, huh?”

  “I did.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You missed you?”

  “No, you know what I – oh, good one.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “One for Rosemary. Bravo.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was nice to get to know you better, without the whole winter bunch around.”

  “Me, too. I enjoyed that week; July's a nice time down here. And I enjoyed how I got to know you better, too.”

  “By the way, Janet said you were back, asked if I'd seen you yet.”

  “Uh-oh. Do you think she suspects?”

  “Not sure; it sounded innocent enough. And they were away on a cruise that week. But you know how she giggles all the time, makes it hard to figure her out.”

  “Yeah. At least she's not a gossip.”

  “Far as I can tell, no.”

  “But she and Norm do sit with Ron and Jenny and the rest of that bunch.”

  “True, but they all take Ron with a grain of salt.”

  “He is such a know-it-all jerk.”

  “Yeah. He tells everybody he was a captain in Vietnam, but I know for a fact that the closest he got to 'Nam was an R&R base in Japan, and he was only a PFC, and a janitor there.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. And Dave told me he's out taking advantage of all the free Veterans Day stuff, getting free meals, a free haircut and whatever else he can scrounge.”

  Rosemary laughed, but then glanced up and saw Norm and Janet and two of the other couples that usually sat together looking at them curiously, so she nodded and waved.

  “Guess I'd better go say hello, play Miss Naive again.”

  “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”

  - 13 -

  November 13, 2012

  2:47 a.m. local time

  100 feet above the Aegean Sea

  As the door hit the wall, Cam again swept the room on full auto, but the lone occupant was prone on the floor and fired back, forcing Cam to pull her weapon back from the doorway.

  Becky dropped to her knees, shot around the doorframe at floor level and was rewarded with a loud scream and another clattering of a rifle on the floor. Cam ran in and head-bulleted the man.

  “What's that, Becks, all of 'em?”

  “Two below, two up here; yup, that should be it. But stay alert; we might have more.”

  “Let's go; looks like, ah, six doors to go.”

  They repeated their procedure six times, finding all the rooms empty.

  “Where's the target, Becks?”

  “We must have missed something. But where? No outbuildings, solid rock underneath, no third floor, just that big empty room be- – wait, where's the kitchen, bathrooms, storage?”

  “Not expecting stainless appliances, are we, Becks? This was a monastery, after all.”

  “But they must have had some place to cook and poop and keep stuff. What are we missing?”

  - 14 -

  November 12, 2012

  3:15 p.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  On the Red Sea

  "Yes, Captain?”

  “Sir, we found one survivor, photoed and printed him and we're patching him up now. Do you want to see him?”

  “I sure do. Does he speak English?”

  “I don't know; he hasn't said anything since we pulled him out.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Not a word, just moaning.”

  “Is he stabilized?”

  “Doc says he will be in about five minutes. But he doesn't think he's gonna survive for long.”

  “Okay. Don't give him any painkillers and don't speak to him at all until I get down there. He's in the infirmary?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, Captain. I'll be right down. Out.”

  “Out, sir.”

  “Pam, JJ, either of you want to join me? I think it'll be helpful.”

  “No problem, Jake. We'd love to.”

  “It won't be just for your looks, but we'll start with that, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “JJ?”

  “Happy to help.”

  “Good. Best if you stay in your suits, I think, but bring the coverups along.”

  “Okay. JJ, throw mine over, would you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just follow my lead, okay? Here's how I think it might go.”

  Jake outlined his plan in the five minutes it took for them to reach the door to the infirmary.

  “How's he doing, Doc?”

  “He's coming around, but slowly, and he won't live for more than maybe half an hour. I wouldn't expect to get too much out of him.”

  “Has he said anything yet?”

  “No, sir, just the moaning. I haven't given him any painkillers.”

  “Good, good. Any results from his photo or prints?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay. Let me know as soon as the Captain gets anything back.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Thanks, Doc.

  “Okay, girls, let's go.”

  - 15 -

  November 13, 2012

  2:56 a.m. local time

  100 feet above the Aegean Sea

  Becky and Cam retraced their steps, examining each and every room on the second floor with extraordinary attention to detail, but found nothing that could be an access to the roof or a third floor, nor any hidden compartments, nothing but monks' cells with solid stone walls and sparse furnishings.

  “Back below, Becks, I guess.”

  “Yup.”

  They headed carefully down the stairs to the big room below, stopping on the bottom step, weapons at the ready, before moving through the archway. No gunfire greeted them.

  “Let's check that other arch, Cam. I must have missed something there.”

  “Right behind ya, Becks.”

  They ran to and through the archway in the southeast corner of the room.

  “There's the desk
, right up flush to the wall behi- – ah, wait one.” Becky looked up. “See how it goes up to the floor above, and how far out from the other end of the stairs it is?”

  “Yeah, must be 15, maybe 20 feet of space in there.”

  “Let's find out.”

  Becky started to pull the desk out, but it wouldn't budge.

  “What the hell?”

  Cam joined Becky in pulling at the desk, but it was impervious to their efforts and still didn't move.

  “Wait one, Cam; something's hinky here.”

  They backed away from the desk and out through the archway into the main room, still at full alert.

  - 16 -

  November 12, 2012

  3:15 p.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  On the Red Sea

  Entering the infirmary, Pam and JJ in the lead, they saw a bony body barely raising the sheets on the bed, swathed in gauze from head to chest, only his left eye, mouth and part of the left cheek visible, with a few scraggly bits of a dark brown beard poking out between the strips of gauze.

  As Pam and JJ came into his view, his eye first widened and then squinted at them, and a wheezy moan gurgled through his bloodied, swollen lips.

  Pam slipped to his left side, leaning over his chest and looking deeply into his eye, her perky breasts barely contained by her skimpy bikini top. JJ slid to the right side of his bed, near his feet, her thonged backside to him as she reached up to stash the coverups on an upper shelf. Jake stayed at the door, watching the man's face closely as his open eye swiveled back and forth between JJ's bottom and Pam's breasts.

  Pam reached down and gently ran her index finger over the man's lower lip.

  “Does that hurt?” she whispered. The man nodded and moaned. She reached down to his chest and pressed lightly.

  “How about that?” He nodded again, moaning until a coughing spasm overtook him, and blood began dribbling out of his mouth. Pam took a tissue from the nightstand and gently dabbed the blood away.

  “Better?” she asked. The man nodded, but kept coughing.

  “Want some water?” The man nodded again. Pam turned away, stepped back and Jake moved in.

  “Well, well, well, so you speak English,” he said in the gruffest voice he could manage. The man's head swiveled so he could focus his eye on this new presence, but his coughing got worse.

  “While she's getting you some water, I've got a few questions for you.

  “First, what's your name?”

  “Allahu Akbar,” the man whisper-chanted, glaring cyclopseanly at Jake. “Allahu Akbar.”

  “No, no, no; your name.”

  “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.”

  Jake pressed on his chest, much harder than Pam had. The man cried out, until another coughing spasm drove more blood out of his mouth.

  “Want some water?” Jake asked gently. The man nodded weakly, still coughing and spewing blood.

  “As soon as you tell me your name, I'll give you some.”

  “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.”

  “Okay, so that's how you want to play it? Fine.”

  Jake pressed even harder on the man's chest, then slapped him on the left cheek, ignoring the man's cries of pain, then again on the right cheek. The man moaned once and went silent.

  - 17 -

  November 12, 2012

  3:12 p.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Four or five a week? Really?” Rosemary asked, incredulous.

  “That's what I heard. Think it was on one of those medical shows I clicked into accidentally.”

  Dallas, a pretty 50-ish brunette who'd been noodling nearby, cut in, “I can have four or five an hour. Sometimes in ten minutes with the right guy.”

  Gordy chuckled. “Or the right batteries.”

  Rosemary blushed through her tan, almost, but not quite, stifling a nervous giggle.

  “Sorry, Rosemary, couldn't resist. That was too good a setup to ignore. But that's what they said, that it was healthy and helped women live longer. So, Dallas, you'll probably live a couple hundred years.”

  Now it was Dallas' turn to blush, but she did no such thing. She laughed a hearty belly laugh instead. “Got that right, ol' man. Maybe three hundred.”

  “Okay, three hundred. And in twenty years, when you get to be our age, you just might have a chance to be as sexy-looking as Rosemary is.”

  As Rosemary blushed even more, Dallas glanced over at her and said, “I sure hope so. What's your secret? How do you keep that great figure?”

  Rosemary, still blushing, stuttered for a moment, but finally said, “I graze.”

  “You what?”

  “She grazes,” Gordy said, “eats a little bit all day long, not ever over-eating. So her stomach doesn't expand three times a day, like most people's do, and she doesn't have those mid-morning and mid-afternoon and evening hunger pangs that most people get.”

  “But how does that work?”

  “When I do get a little bit hungry, I nibble a tiny bite of something, but never very much.”

  “But – but what about when you go out to dinner? Or do you?”

  “Sure, I do, but again I only nibble, and I almost always take most of the meal home; sometimes it can last four or five days, and I always order stuff that'll keep that long.”

  “I'd guess she gets about a hundred, maybe 125 calories an hour.”

  “That's all? Wow.”

  “Never counted, but Gordy's pretty good with numbers, so I'll take his word for it.”

  “I've started doing the same thing, thanks to Rosemary. And I've sorta figured out that weight control or loss – and I'm only talking about weight, not any medical issues; that's a whole different ball game – is about four percent food choice, four percent exercise and 92 percent portion size and timing, like grazing.”

  “You DO do numbers, like she said, huh?”

  “Guess so, some of the time. But right now, I'm 92 percent sure my body temp has dropped a full degree in this 79-degree water. And I think I need a nap. So if you lovely ladies will excuse me?”

  “Sure, Gordy; nap well.”

  “Thanks, Ro. And Dallas, nice meeting you.”

  “Same backatcha.”

  As Gordy headed to shore, he overheard Dallas say, “You've never had any work done?” and Rosemary answer, “Nope, none; cross my heart,” and he smiled to himself, lay down on his lounge and fell deeply asleep.

  - 18 -

  November 12, 2012

  3:19 p.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  On the Red Sea

  “I think he's gone, Jake.”

  “Ah, shit, Pam.”

  “I don't think you were gonna get anything outa him, anyhow.”

  “Hey, Doc, we need you back in here.”

  “Be right there.”

  A few moments later, the doctor finished checking the survivor, then shook his head.

  “Time of death, 3:21 p.m. Sorry, Jake.”

  “No problem, Doc; we knew he wasn't gonna last. Pack him up and prep him for an overboard drop. Full weights.”

  “Will do, Jake.”

  “Okay, Pam, JJ, let's head back up. Thanks for your help. Good work, Doc.”

  “Thanks, Jake. Wish I coulda kept him alive longer.”

  “I do, too. But nothing you could have done, I'm sure.”

  Ten minutes later, back up on the foredeck, as Jake, Pam and JJ were once again reclining on their lounges, Jake's walkie buzzed.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Sir, we have an ID. Rashid al-Sharadi, formerly known as Paul-Noel D'ortagnon, French citizen, 24 years old, only a midlevel AQ, but he's got a million-dollar bounty from the US. I've stopped the body drop, awaiting your orders.”

  “Well, well, well. Give me a minute. Okay. Send a message to Keegan at CIA, let him know we've got the body, but don't give him our identity, location or the circumstances. Let him know we'll get it to him in … ah … Cyprus in two days, if he wants it;
but if the photos and prints will do, fine, and we can drop the body. Have Amber set up a new account for the bounty, then donate it to the micro-loan programs. I'll leave it all in your hands.”

  “Yes, sir, will do.”

  “Thanks, Captain. Out.”

  “Well, that's some good news, isn't it, Jake?”

  “I guess so, JJ. But I was sorta looking forward to the rest of the interrogation. Got a little rusty on that after all that time in Bonita.”

  “Not too much interrogation to do there, was there?”

  “No, Pam, just you. And I used a different technique.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “And I knew back then.”

  “You knew?”

  “I knew. But I didn't want you to know I knew.”

  “But I knew.”

  “You knew I knew?”

  “I knew you knew, and now you know I knew you knew.”

  “I thought so, but I wasn't sure, at least not till now.”

  “Well, now you know that I knew you knew and I also knew that you didn't want me to know that you knew.”

  “Wow. That's new.”

  “No, you knew that. I know you did.”

  “I knew? No, not then. You were good.”

  “So were you.”

  “I know. But it was just my training.”

  “Oh, Pam, don't be modest. You were top of your class, weren't you?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don't know know it, but I'm right, right?”

  “Yup, you're right.”

  “But I was a close second.”

  “That she was, Jake, and by only half a point.”

  “Really, JJ? Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, but it was a long time ago.”

  “Class of '81, right?”

  “Nope, '80.”

  “And then the advanced courses in honey-trapping, right? And out to the field by early '81?”