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

  “Yes, we will. It was great to reconnect with you after all those years, sis.”

  “Hey, Pam, government, private sector, you know.”

  “I know, but I should have reached out more, especially after Mom and Dad died.”

  “I could have done the same; please don't worry about it, okay?”

  “I'll try,” Pam said, brushing a small tear from under her eye.

  JJ leaned over and took Pam in her arms, then waved Jake over to join them.

  “This was the nicest and best farewell party I've ever had. Thank you both. And thank you both for these past weeks; it's been super.”

  “Except for that attack yesterday morning,” Jake said.

  “Even that. It was like being back in the field; I had a flashback or two.” She kissed them both on the cheek and stood up, brushing tears from her own eyes. “Guess I'd better go start packing.”

  “Oh, the stew- – what? You haven't packed yet?”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Good one, JJ,” Pam said.

  “Yup, you got me,” Jake said, laughing. “Got me good.”

  “And you got me good last night,” JJ said, “several times.”

  “Ten in ten,” Pam added.

  JJ sighed. “I'm really gonna miss you, both of you.”

  “And we're gonna miss you, too,” Jake said, his arm still around Pam's shoulders.

  “Absolutely,” Pam added.

  “But you have an open invitation to come back whenever you can or want to, okay?” Jake said.

  “Whenever, really,” Pam added.

  “Oh, thank you both; I'd like that. Thank you.”

  “And maybe, just maybe we could even give you two a chance to work together again,” Jake said.

  “Oh, I'm not sure I – I'm pretty rusty.”

  “I don't know; you weren't at all rusty last night. I should have guessed you'd be as – uh – flexible and dynamic as Pam, but it was still a surprise, a very nice surprise.”

  “Oh, no, I meant with the weapons and hand-to-hand and all the other stuff, not that.”

  “Oh,” Jake said. “Well, we could take care of that in two or three weeks, at most, I'd bet.”

  JJ glanced over at Pam. “We did make a pretty good team back then, didn't we?”

  Pam nodded. “Yeah, sis, we sure did.”

  JJ looked back at Jake. “Thanks, Jake; I'll think about it.”

  “No promises, JJ, but if it works out, maybe, okay?”

  “You got it, Jake.”

  “Oh, Jake, listen; I think I hear a helo,” Pam said.

  Jake looked at his watch. “Even earlier.

  “Oh, JJ, if you want, just for your memories, once we get the faces blurred out, we can email you the video from last night.”

  “You videoed it?”

  “Yup. We video everything.”

  “Was anybody watching?”

  “Nope; that was all internal, in the suite, no crew.”

  JJ breathed a sigh of what Jake had previously breathed a sigh of and said, “Okay; I might want to relive that some night back in the States.”

  “Your eyes only, okay?”

  “Oh, Jake, if I do watch that, I'll have a lot more than my eyes involved.”

  Jake and Pam glanced at each other and smiled. “She's baack.”

  “Got that right, Jake.”

  As the helicopter hove into view, the three of them hugged.

  - 33 -

  November 13, 2012

  4:24 a.m. local time

  80 feet above the Aegean Sea

  The helo took off in a very light mist, with Craig at the controls and Becky next to him. The doctor sat in the back, his hands once again flex-tied, between two large members of the cleanup crews. The 3D printer and its associated equipment and supplies sat securely tied down in the middle of the passenger bay. The rest of the crew sat on benches or on the floor, all safely strapped in.

  “Faster, Craig, faster. We've got to find Cam.”

  “I'm going as fast as this baby can go, Becks. We'll find her.”

  “Fiona, any luck yet?”

  “Sorry, Becks, nothing.”

  “Shit. C'mon, Craig.”

  “Easy, Becks. We'll find her. I'm on the same bearing she woulda taken back to the launch.”

  “Shit, shit, shit! Fiona, keep trying.”

  “I have been, Becks; still nothing.”

  “How about her chip? Can you get a reading on that?”

  “I've been trying that, too. Nothing.”

  “But that's impossible. Have you checked your settings?”

  “Yup, Becks; it's set to her chip and it's working fine. Just no signal coming in.”

  “Check mine, just to be sure. 4639807.”

  “Got it. Yeah, you're coming in fine. And you're heading in the right direction. Not the equipment, okay? And … nope, still nothing from Cam.”

  “8974395, right?”

  “Right. Still nothing.”

  “Shit.”

  “I've just put the drone back up, on a rear azimuth, but I can't keep it up for long with this incoming weather.”

  “Okay, copy that.

  “Craig, any more speed?”

  “'Fraid not, Becks; I'm at full throttle. And that storm is moving in faster now. Look at the radar.”

  “Double shit!”

  Ten minutes later, as the rain and wind picked up, Becky shouted, “Hold up, Craig. Look! Two o'clock, 200 yards.”

  “Where? What?”

  “There,” Becky said, pointing. “It's one of the jet skis.”

  “Ah, got it.” Craig veered the helo and hovered. Becky undid her seatbelt and headed back to the passenger bay.

  “Where do you think you're going?”

  “I'm going down there. Get the winch out!”

  “We don't have time, Becks; that storm is moving fast and we'll go down if we stick around.”

  “But Cam is down there somewhere!”

  “Maybe not; there's only one jet ski down there. She may have had to abandon it.”

  “Maybe. But if she did, she should already have gotten to the launch.”

  “No such luck, Becks; she's not here. And still nothing from her chip.”

  “Shit, Fiona.

  “Craig, I don't give a shit. Lower me down there, NOW! That's an order.”

  “Okay, okay. But you've only got two minutes, max.”

  “Then get me down there fast!”

  Fifty seconds later, Becky splashed down next to the jet ski, swam over to its bow and saw a rope tied to the tow ring, running down into the increasingly choppy water. She tugged on it, but it wouldn't budge. She disconnected from the winch line and hooked it into the rear tow ring. She then climbed aboard, tied herself on and held on tight.

  “Bring it up, Craig.”

  “What?”

  “Bring it up … now. That's an order.”

  “But” –

  “NOW!”

  “Okay, okay. Bringing you up.”

  A moment later, as Becky reached the floor of the passenger bay, she climbed aboard and then looked out and down.

  “Oh, fuck! The other one is hanging below. Shit, shit, shit.”

  “Becks, we've got to go now!” A bolt of lightning far behind them startled everyone on the helo. “NOW! Buckle in.”

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Becky said, wiping either tears or rain from her face. “Got a GPS reading, at least?”

  “Of course. We'll come back and search after the storm passes.”

  “Shit. Okay.”

  The helo, with its dual cargo hanging below, rose up and raced the storm and the drone toward the launch.

  - 34 -

  November 13, 2012

  7:27 a.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  On the Red Sea

  The helicopter approached, its cargo net bulging with a dozen 55-gallon drums, hovered over the aft helipad until the yacht crew had unloaded and stowed the drums, and then settled dow
n on the pad. The side door slid open, revealing a large wooden crate and six men, four in unmarked drab uniforms, two in khakis and polo shirts, with hoods over their heads.

  “Ah, at last,” Jake said, smiling.

  “What's that?” Pam asked.

  “A new toy; let it be a surprise once it's installed, okay?”

  “Okay, Jake, if you insist.”

  Six men from the yacht crew picked up the crate and took it below. One of the uniformed men gently escorted the hooded men off the craft and below, following the crate; two more followed, carrying two duffel bags, two backpacks and two suitcases.

  The fourth walked over to Jake, Pam and JJ, nodded at Jake and said, “Sir, we'll be ready to leave as soon as the equipment is unloaded and the techs get started installing it; should be less than ten minutes. We'll return for them once it's up and running; should be two or three days.”

  “Very good. Second cell in the brig, correct?”

  “That's where I was told it was to go, sir, yes.”

  “And the techs understand the reasons for the hoods and their isolation while they get it installed, right?

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Very good.

  “And this is your passenger,” Jake said, indicating JJ.

  “Pleasure to have you aboard, ma'am.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you been in a copter before?”

  “Sonny, back in the '80s, I piloted 'em.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And those were a lot more bare bones than this one.”

  “Well, we'll try to make you as comfortable as possible until we land and transfer you to the jet to the US. That will be much more comfy.”

  “Or wouldn't that be 'comfier'?” Pam said, chuckling and nudging Jake.

  “Pardon me, ma'am?”

  “Inside joke,” Jake said. “Never mind.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When everything had been unloaded and taken below, and JJ's luggage had been loaded, Jake, Pam and JJ shared a final hug, JJ got into the helicopter, and it took off in a light mist.

  Jake and Pam, wiping either the mist or tears from their eyes, gave a final wave and, once the helo was out of sight, headed below.

  - 35 -

  November 13, 2012

  4:41 a.m. local time

  On the Aegean Sea

  The helicopter lowered the two jet skis onto the aft deck of the launch, then landed and was tied down securely. The passengers debarked, followed by Becky and Craig, and all hurried into the main cabin as the storm hit with all its fury.

  Four hours later, as the storm passed and the skies cleared, both the drone and the helo searched for Cam until dusk, finding nothing.

  The jet ski at the end of the rope had a foot-long, shredded hole in the bow, just below the waterline, with what was later determined to be pieces of bull shark skin embedded in the edges. The jet pack was still locked in place, but no sign of Cam was ever found, and even Becky was finally forced to come to the inevitable conclusion that she never would be.

  The storm had washed all signs of the battle at the monastery into the sea, but a small crew returned to repair the front door and do a final inspection to be sure that nothing inside or outside indicated anything other than abandonment.

  The following Sunday, Becky and Nate did their best to console Armando about Cam's loss, while keeping from him the full story of her disappearance. Becky and Nate, per Cam's will, were given sole custody of Cam's son, Blake, and cared for him as if he were their own. When he turned ten two years later, they told him his mother had died a hero, serving her country; he believed that until he died at the age of 83.

  On the upside, the dish that Armando brought to the pot luck was even better than Cam had told Becky it would be, and several of the female guests (at least the ones who hadn't fainted upon taking their first taste while looking at him) offered him multiple inducements with the ostensible motive of getting the recipe. In the weeks to come, many of them helped to “console” him enough to push Cam into the deepest recesses of his memory.

  Becky never collected the 55,000 euros that Cam owed her from their word game, nor did she care in the slightest.

  - 36 -

  November 13, 2012

  11:05 a.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Hey, Louise, you made it back. Bravo.”

  “Oh, yeah, Gordy, but this was a tough one; high tide and only soft sand to run on. I should get double points. Hi, Rosemary.”

  “Hi, Louise.”

  “So did you have a good chat with Steve and Bruce?”

  “Oh, yeah, real good. I like their ideas a lot. Thanks for doing all that.”

  “Welcome. It was hard to get 'em to read it, but once I got 'em started, it was a piece of cake.”

  “I'll get back to 'em in a week or so and we'll go from there. Thanks again.”

  “Good. Well, gotta run; department meeting at one. Nice to see you again, Rosemary.” She picked up her chair and bag and headed toward the showers.

  “Hey, Louise, one of these days you're actually going to sit in that chair.”

  Louise laughed, “I know, I know, Gordy.”

  “When you do, I'll alert the media.”

  She laughed again.

  “Have a good meeting.”

  “Thanks, Rosemary. See ya.”

  “Nice woman, Gordy.”

  “Yeah, she is. And bright, too.”

  “So to get back to Dallas, did you know she's a writer, too?”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “After you left, we had a nice chat. She writes erotic romances.”

  “Not that you read that kind of stuff, of course.”

  “Of course not,” Rosemary said, blushing slightly.

  “Of course not.”

  “Anyhow, I told her about your book and she said she was gonna get a copy. She seemed very interested. Too bad you were sleeping when she had to leave. But I dug a card out of your bag and gave it to her, told her where she could pick up a copy, and if she brought it back to you, that you'd sign it.”

  “Nice. Thank you.”

  “Not at all. I know how hard you worked on it.”

  “You mean 'we,' how hard 'we' worked on it.”

  “Aw, I didn't do that much.”

  “Yes, you did. I didn't think that much about building their intimacy and trust before they got into the sex stuff. Needed a woman's point of view to get me to do that. And I'm not sure I even did it enough.”

  “Well, you were more focused on the Donne part, the economics and the policy stuff.”

  “Yeah, the stuff those profs got focused on.”

  “But you said they called all the rest 'fluff.'”

  “Yeah, well, everybody brings their background to every book they read.”

  “And everything else. Movies, music, everything.”

  “Got that right. Each one sees what they're capable of seeing.”

  “Kinda like a Rorschach test?”

  “Hmm. Yeah, I guess so.”

  He reached into his cooler and pulled out a sandwich bag, zipped it open and held it out to her.

  “Want a cookie, little girl?”

  Rosemary laughed and said, “Don't mind if I do. Chocolate chip?”

  “Of course. The buck-a-bag ones.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Take two, if you want.”

  “Nah, one's enough.”

  “Same here; I like that grazing idea.”

  “Glad you do,” she said, taking a bite. “Mm, that's good.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Gordy said, chewing with his eyes closed.

  “Uh-oh,” Rosemary said.

  “Mmff?” Gordy said, as he finished swallowing.

  “Hey, schlub,” a high, squeaky voice came from behind Gordy.

  “Oh, geez, Ron, what the hell do you want now?”

  “Janet told me you're putting me in the sequel, too.”

  “Yeah, so?”<
br />
  “So you gonna make me an asshole in that, too?”

  “Only if you keep acting like one. And so far, that's what you've been doing.”

  “Bullshit. I'm not an asshole.”

  “Actually, Ron, if you look that word up in the dictionary, you'll find your – oh, never mind; old cliché.

  “You still haven't figured it out, have you?”

  “Figured what out?”

  “That most of the people on this beach really do think you're an asshole.”

  “No, they don't.”

  “And that you're infantile.”

  “Aw, that's bullshit.”

  “Think so? You've been pouting ever since you found out you were gonna be in the first book.”

  “Pouting? Aw, bullshit.”

  “Can it, Ron; you know exactly what I'm talking about, and you've been bitching to Norm and Janet and George over the whole damn summer, to the point where they don't even answer or return your phone calls anymore. And I'll bet you haven't even read the book.”

  “Got that right. And I won't be reading it.”

  “That's fine with me, Ron. It'll survive without you. But now, IF you don't mind, I'll be getting back to my conversation with Rosemary, and I expect no further interruptions from you.

  “Wait; I've got more” --

  “Well, Ron, back to our original deal. Jenny's baking for my time. Remember that?”

  “But” --

  “Sorry, Ron; that's the deal … same as last season. Got it?”

  “But” --

  “Got it?”

  “Are you gonna kill me off again?”

  “Well, Ron, the answer to that'll cost you a dozen brownies. Up to you.”

  “But” --

  “No more buts, and get yours away from us … now, please.”

  Ron glared at Gordy, then looked imploringly at Rosemary, who ignored him, and then huffed and puffed his way back to Jenny and sat down, sulking.

  Gordy looked at Rosemary, shrugged and said, “Sometimes life intrudes.”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “By the way, did you notice his haircut?”

  Rosemary coughed to stifle her laughter.

  “Guess it's true.”

  “What is, Gordy?”

  “You do get what you pay for.”

  At that, Rosemary could no longer stifle her laughter, especially when she saw Ron glaring at Gordy and the rest of the group chuckling.