Black Angel

by Jack Dayton

  The Colonel laughed. “Oh that’s true . . . we all have something we’d rather leave in the forward area.”

  They both laughed then but the Norwegian went on. “I want to see if you can join us for the party this year as a surprise for Aksel. I know he would love to see you again and it would be a real treat for him to have you come in without him knowing it. What do you think? Can you make it?”

  “What’s the date, sir?”

  “It will be on December 9, a Wednesday night.”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar and see if my boss has anything going but from what I see, I should be able to make it.”

  “I know it is the middle of the week and Quantico is a long drive, particularly with the traffic but it would mean a great deal to me and, I’m sure, to Aksel if you could be there. Not a long night though. Just 7 to 9.”

  Vance didn’t need to check his calendar for the evening. The evenings were always open. “Nothing could keep me away, sir.”

  “Good! So great to know you can make it. I have one more request though, Gunny. Do you by any chance have the opportunity to talk to your other great friend you share with Aksel, Captain Guidry?”

  Guidry.

  “Sir, I absolutely do have contact with Captain Guidry, although he’s a Major now.”

  “Oh, that is very good news. Can you do me a favor and ask Major Guidry to come, too? I know the three of you are quite close from your time in Afghanistan and I think also you were at Mountain Warfare Training, ya? If you could both be there it would be a very special night, I think. What do you think, Gunny?”

  Vance’s smile broadened. “Oh, yes, sir. It would be very special. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Wonderful! Let me know, will you, if he can make it, that is? You can just call Anya here at the desk, okay?”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “I don’t think I would be saying too much if I would say that Major Dahl could benefit from having you both here for him, Gunny.”

  Vance noted the conversation had taken a serious tone. “We won’t let you or Aksel down, sir.”

  “Thank you, Gunny. See you at the party.”

  Vance shook his head as he hung up the phone. Major Lestat Guidry. He had just gotten a text from him a few days before checking in to make sure he was still shaving his head with Venus blades for sensitive skin. This would be good.

  * * *

  Major Lestat Guidry opened the door of the Toyota Prius and scanned the small space he was going to have to fit into. “Really, Gunny?” He grinned as he slid his 6’2” form into the passenger seat. “If I’da known you were gonna make me sit in this jump seat all the way to McLean, I would have driven myself.”

  “Well, maybe you’re overestimating your size, sir.”

  “Well, ain’t you purty.” Guidry eyed the Gunny’s business suit. “You are almost ready for the big leagues. What is that anyway . . . JC Penney? Your arms look a little tight in that sleeve though.”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s Macy’s and the tailoring there is probably not up to your standards. Why don’t you just worry about what you’re gonna say to Aksel when you see him. As I remember, he was still mad at you about that last practical joke you played on him before you got on the plane at Kandahar. He was picking pieces of unpopped popcorn out of his gear for weeks after he got back to Oslo.”

  “The only reason he was mad was because it was a first-class joke and he didn’t have the chance for payback. Besides, he’s in a way better gig than either of us now so who got the last laugh?”

  Vance had to admit that was true. Their friend, Major Aksel Dahl, was now on the staff of the Defense Attache at the Norwegian Embassy in Washington, DC, a job that was probably a little too close to the flagpole for either of them but one that did have its share of advantages. Good food, good people, good smells. Vance was stuck in the basement of a building with black mold and Guidry was over at The Basic School wet nursing butter bars fresh from commissioning.

  In any case, they were all better off being away from Helmand province. They had been there together and experienced some things they would never want to go through again but would never forget. They had all met at Mountain Warfare Training Center and then reconnected in Helmand and then again at the University. The bonds formed there were strong and had been sustained long after they had last seen each other. The thought of being back together for a party, even one at which they’d be expected to behave, had both Vance and Guidry eagerly anticipating the reunion. The fact that Major Aksel Dahl - or Blow-Up Dahl, as Guidry called him - didn’t expect their attendance made it all the more exciting.

  Guidry in particular was amped. Vance knew Guidry and Dahl had a special friendship but didn’t begrudge them that. It was odd enough that he would be allowed to socialize with them given the boundaries between enlisted and commissioned officers. But this was a request being fulfilled on behalf of the Norwegian Attache himself so a little latitude was in order. Vance genuinely like Guidry, a Louisiana boy with a spooky background. Who wouldn’t be a little out there growing up in NOLA with a name like Lestat? Guidry’s mom had read all the Ann Rice novels about vampires and thought the name Lestat was just exceptional enough for her son. Guidry himself would never admit it but hinted that the name offered unique protection. He always said that he might not live forever but he would be extra hard to take out and then he’d wink like he was sharing a secret only you and he were in on. That sense of whimsy and creative energy had made him a good rack mate in Afghanistan, as long as you could put up with the Oreos that had had the crème replaced with toothpaste or coming back to see a bunch of boy band posters with intimate messages plastered all over your rack. He had a knack for keeping things interesting.

  “How’s Annie?” Vance asked as he slowed in the approach to the gate leaving the base.

  “Oh, she’s fine. You know, the usual. ‘I have no life. Why do we have to move again? The kids should be able to stay in one place long enough to have friends.’ Same old, same old. She’s happy though, I think. She likes the house, has some friends she can bitch to so it could be worse. How about Patsy?”

  “Fine . . . okay, I guess. She’s still in Florida, close to her mom and dad.”

  “Yeah, I heard. How’s it going?”

  The Gunny shrugged, waving at the Marine guard at the gate headed out to I-95. “Who knows? She’s tight-lipped when we talk on Hangouts. It’s hard with the kids.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t get easier, I hear.” The Gunny gave him a sideways glance as he swung into the 70 mile per hour traffic headed north. “So you’re in the house in Fredericksburg then?”

  The Gunny inhaled deeply, pausing before he answered. “Well, not exactly. The numbers didn’t work so I’m renting it out to a professor at Mary Washington. I took a sublet on Caroline. You know - over J. Brian’s Tap Room. I take the train up most days. If it gets late I have a deal with the Sergeant Major at the Staff NCO Academy that I can bunk in Jordan Hall if need be. It doesn’t happen often but it’s better than an aerobed on the floor in the office.”

  “Man, I am sorry. What’s going on? You wanna talk about it?”

  “It’s just like you said, multiplied by two. All the moves, the deployments, the crap they dish with Tricare. She just wants things to be like everyone else, like the rest of her family. She thinks she’s getting a bad deal. Stuff I really can’t fix unless I walk away and then what? What am I gonna do with an 03 MOS out there? Sell insurance?”

  “I hear ya. Shit . . . ”

  “Yeah . . . crap.”

  The rest of the drive they listened to ESPN on the satellite radio and trash talked the college football rankings, Guidry was a die-hard LSU Tiger and could do a passable imitation of Coach O saying “Go, Tigers” in that gravel voice. Gunny was loyal to the Buckeyes. His degree was from a solid online school but he’d grown up in Dayton, Ohio, and had little choice in his allegiance. They’d been good to him so he had no complaints.

 
They arrived at the neighborhood in McLean where the attache lived and were duly impressed. Each house on the street was more opulent and appealing than the next. The house they were looking for was on a curve that led to even more elaborate homes. It appropriately had a small grouping of lighted reindeer in front of the home. It was a clear, cold night, their suit jackets offered minimal protection from the winter air.

  “I’d love it if those reindeer were real,” Guidry mused, as they walked up the drive, ice and salt crunching under their dress shoes.

  “Well, hell, yeah,” countered Vance. “And I bet you want Santa to open the front door.”

  “Did I hear you say ‘hell?’ You kiss your mother with that mouth, Gunny.” Guidry enjoyed the chance to point out the gratuitous use of an expletive by the Gunny.

  “I bet you are proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Vance asked him as they walked up the drive.

  “Gunny, I am always proud of myself.” There was that wink. The Gunny laughed in spite of himself.

  * * *

  Dr. Serge Kovak sipped delicately from his champagne flute. He was tired after a long day of meetings, phone calls, TV appearances and traffic tie-ups. He accepted the reality of life in the nation’s capital but it regularly took its toll. The fact that he had to drag all the way out to McLean for this party was just another annoyance. But this party needed his presence for significant reasons.

  He had seen a few people he recognized, embassy social regulars, a few people from the University but it was largely a different crowd from the one he typically sought out and had found a comfortable place among . . . the think-tank talking heads, media types, deep state hierarchy. That was where the real advantages were to be found and this party had few if any of the people who could help him advance himself in place here. So the champagne was free, if not the quality he preferred, and he accepted his role as an observer for a change.

  Kovak hung back in the space on the first-floor family room waiting for the party to fill. He checked his look in the reflection of the patio window. His light brown comb-over was holding up, poofed just the right way to minimize his creeping hairline. He lightly groomed his mustache and goatee, ensuring no stray crumbs were lurking. His collar stays kept his shirt in place, his suit perfectly tailored and lint free. He paused a moment longer confirming that he was up to standard tonight.

  The house was as magnificent inside as out. A marbled-floored front hall with a formal living room on the right and dining room on the left was open to the second floor by a grand staircase and overhead walkway. The hall gave way to the elaborate chef’s kitchen at the rear of the house opening to the comfortable family room. The stone fireplace in the family room had a nicely warming fire going so Kovak stationed himself close to it, allowing him to oversee the comings and goings of the party attendees. Staff moved unobtrusively among the group with trays of champagne, collecting empty glasses and offering fresh rounds.

  Kovak could see from the family room to the front door where Col Siggordson and his lovely wife, Kiersten, greeted guests. The colonel in a suit out of GQ was complimented by Kiersten’s lace off-the-shoulder gown. Her blonde hair rested softly on her bare shoulders and her charming smile was as authentic as it was disarming. Kovak could see how Col Siggordson had ascended to his position with a wife as beautiful and appealing as she. He had always believed that the assessment of military officers was either enhanced or diminished by the opinion their peers and superiors had of their wives. In this case, Siggordson was well-served.

  After a number of arrivals had made their way through the greeting process and hung their coats, Kovak was beginning to tire of the process and was ready to go downstairs where the rest of the group was moving when he noted the arrival of two men whom he had not expected to see. He knew these two men and despite his studied composure, their presence triggered a slight twinge of apprehension.

  Chapter 2

  All Thor Siggordson needed to live up to his namesake was the hammer. Standing in the double doorway of the McLean mansion, he more than fulfilled the image of the hero of Norse legend. Towering over his staff, he managed to greet guests and keep the line moving, subtly directing activities and keeping to schedule. All that while making sure none of his guests was neglected or overlooked. His wife, Kiersten, at his side adroitly taking each person from her husband’s welcoming handshake to her demure smile and casual direction to the servers waiting with trays of champagne.

  Guidry and Vance, both over six feet, rarely had to look up to other men but Thor Siggordson had them handily with his 6’8” stature. Like many of the attendees, Colonel Siggordson didn’t recognize either of them so they gamely made the introductions.

  “Ah, Major Guidry and Gunny Vance, yes, of course!” The greeting was more projected than spoken. Accompanied by the hearty handshake, both Marines found themselves mildly surprised by the unaffected warmth conveyed. The exclamation point was perfectly provided by Mrs. Siggordson’s lovely smile and nod to each of them. “Major Dahl will be happy to see you, I think. He hasn’t any idea that you will be here tonight. I only hope I can catch the moment when he recognizes you.”

  “Oh, now what mischief have you planned for poor Aksel?” Kiersten Siggordson was clearly a game partner in her husband’s charm offensive. She winked playfully at Guidry who couldn’t keep from shooting a look at the Gunny.

  “Oh, nothing, dear,” Siggordson chuckled. “Just an early Christmas present for Aksel.”

  “Well, gentlemen, I hope you can allow yourself to enjoy every aspect of our hospitality as you plan your ‘ambush,’” she whispered to them conspiratorially.

  “Sir, thank you for your very gracious invitation and we will enjoy this as much as Major Dahl, I’m sure.” The Gunny took care of the formalities.

  “And, Ma’am, we promise to be the best guests you have ever hosted here,” said Guidry as he bent slightly and left a light kiss on the back of Kiersten’s extended hand.

  “Oh, my, Major, I can see you have been well-trained by Aksel,” joked Siggordson whose eyebrows seemed permanently raised and locked in the upright position by Guidry’s move.

  If Mrs. Siggordson was put off she left no indication. She dipped her chin a bit but her light giggle told Guidry his Louisiana magnetism had worked.

  The Gunny succeeded in moving Guidry to the next station to get some champagne. “What the heck was that?”

  “Gunny, fortune favors the bold,” Guidry raised his flute in a salute to himself and all over-confident males.

  “So said Pliny the Elder as he told his boatman to get closer to Vesuvius.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Gunny, it’s Christmas. When the day comes that it’s a crime to please a pretty woman, I’m gonna resign my commission.”

  “You keep pushing the boundaries, Major, and you may be asked to make that decision before you think.”

  Guidry took another sip of champagne and scanned the house. “Look at all this, Gunny. Can you ever see yourself in a place like this?

  “To be honest, no, and I’m sure I wouldn’t want to, knowing what goes with it.”

  They stood there drinking champagne and taking it all in. The grand staircase sweeping down in a gentle arc, the living room to the right, lit by lights on the massive Christmas tree and complemented by the gentle glow of a dozen or more candles, the dining room to the left with a table laden with the Norwegian classics they had seen Aksel eat with such relish. Meatballs, lingonberries, noodles, butter cookies. “You suppose there’s any pickled herring on the table?” Guidry tilted his head quizzically.

  “I’d bet on it,” answered the Gunny. That had been one delicacy they hadn’t been able to manage.

  They had just begun to scan the crowd when Guidry nudged Vance in the ribs and nodded to the hall way. “Eleven o’clock.” The Gunny glanced over and then shot Guidry a look as Dr. Serge Kovak raised his glass to them across the room. They both returned the gesture smiling. “This is why I hate these things,” said Guidry through his locked
-jaw smile. “Is he still peddling that ‘white guys are the coolest’ shit?”

  “That’s his jam. He’s got a following, too.” Vance was no more pleased with seeing Kovak than Guidry but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have to spend much time with him. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with.”

  They moved toward him through the central hall just behind Colonel and Mrs. Siggordson still greeting guests. “Gentlemen, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Kovak opened.

  “Well, we managed to clear a space on our calendar by ducking out of the White House Christmas Party early,” Guidry returned.

  For a moment, Kovak wondered. You never knew when some White House aide might dangle an invitation like that but to these two? Not likely. He nodded and laughed. “Very good, Major. I was almost quite envious of you but now there’s no need of that.”

  “What about me, Dr. Kovak? Weren’t you envious of me, too?” The Gunny was determined to enjoy every aspect of the hospitality.

  “Gunny, to be honest, I still am,” Kovak returned. “You have always been someone to envy. Seriously, though, how do you find yourselves enjoying the hospitality of the Attache?”

  “We won the chance to attend in a raffle,” Guidry shot back. “Or was it an essay contest? I can’t remember now, can you, Gunny?”

  Vance ignored Guidry’s attempt to up the ante. “It’s a surprise for a member of his staff. We served together a while back and the Attache thought it would be nice if we were reunited for the holidays. That’s all.”

  “Which one?” Kovak probed.

  “Major Aksel Dahl. You know him?”

  “Hmmm . . . I don’t think so. I know several of the officers on the staff but his name doesn’t register.”

  “Well, we should go,” interrupted Guidry. “We want to hook up with him before it gets too late.”

  “Right, of course. Don’t let me delay your happy reunion. I know what it’s like to be reunited with old mates.” Kovak continued “I’m sure you will have much to reminisce about.”