Black Angel

by Jack Dayton

  He turned then, his quizzical look shifting to exasperation. She caught up to him, ignoring his condescension. “Dr. Kovak, I know you’ve been reticent to talk about that night at the attache’s house but there’s something else you might want to be aware of. I spoke with a staff officer at the Norwegian embassy.”

  Kovak’s reaction was all Dacey could have hoped for. She had his complete attention now. “And? Why is this something that would mean anything to me?”

  “He was helpful. He referenced a number of factors that might resonate with you. Things that, if we compared notes, might connect some dots.”

  “Dacey, you are adorable when you mimic a real reporter.“

  “You know, Serge, that continental insouciance may dazzle your cult followers but I am less impressed. My reporting has opened up some interesting avenues for inquiry. You can benefit from this, unless there’s a reason you don’t want to pursue it.” Her head was down but she slowly lifted her chin to look up at him, her unstated question hanging in the air.

  “You know, you are right, Dacey. You are looking more and more each day like a member of the lame stream media. If you want to pass off some random embassy gossip as fake news, be my guest. But you are not pulling me into your bizarre conspiracy theories. You have reached the level of aspiration appropriate for you, a fake news reporter. Keep going, without me!” Kovak leaned down into her face as he finished. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for my radio show tomorrow.”

  Kovak was turning to leave when Dacey Dunn offered her final word. “Just so you aren’t surprised, you need to know there may be a link to Anders Breivik.” Invoking the name of the Norwegian assassin infamous for his attack on school children at summer camp was a calculated risk. It could easily backfire if Kovak probed for details.

  Kovak stopped abruptly, turning back, barely controlling his voice. “You don’t want to pursue this, you silly, stupid, blond nothing,” he hissed.

  That was all Dacey needed. Never mind that she had no idea who worked at the embassy. She knew everything she had to know to keep pushing until she got the answers she needed.

  Chapter 11

  The funeral was a case study in misery and tenderness. The chapel at Quantico was full, every Marine from Major Guidry’s Basic School unit there, every person from the National University who had known him, every member of Guidry’s TBS class, fellow officers from his various assignments, enlisted Marines who had followed him through every shitty forward base and had to listen to his lame jokes in his Louisiana twang. The Marine Corps is a small family which is always crossing paths and revisiting their old sea stories together. Losing Marines is part of the sea stories of this family but there were some Marines whose loss hit especially hard. Major Lestat Guidry was loved. By family and the Marine Corps.

  Annie Guidry was the strong Marine wife she knew she was expected to be. The black pill box hat had slipped slightly over her left ear but the veil that shielded the upper half of her face did little to hide her swollen eyes. A half-crumpled tissue peeked out from the wrist length sleeve of the black sheath dress that hung loosely from her petite figure. The boys, Oliver and Beau, walked on each side like Marine escorts holding her hands, following the casket as it was ushered into the church.

  As a pall bearer, Vance walked slowly next to the casket, peeling off to the second pew as Annie and the boys sat down in front of him with Major Russ Gable and Sergeant Major David Kinkaide, two of Guidry’s closest friends at The Basic School. The chaplain, Captain Tremayne Sharp, stood in front of the assembled faithful, waiting for the final lines of “Amazing Grace” and everyone settled.

  The ritual of the Catholic mass took over and everyone was allowed to flee into their private grief for a few moments. Guidry’s brother, Louis, spoke movingly about his big brother and the bonds that kept them close across time and distance. His commanding officer, Colonel Julian Reed, mercifully brought the Guidry to life that most of them knew and loved. The antics that had endeared him to both superiors and subordinates were recounted to good effect, allowing the irrepressible humor that Guidry was noted for to be celebrated, however briefly. The quiet appreciation of this unique officer was balanced by the bitterness of the loss, the acknowledgement that there would not be another like him.

  Since burial would take place in New Orleans in the family mausoleum, the group outside the church took longer to disperse. Old friends greeted each other, expressed their regrets and made excuses if they couldn’t make it to The Clubs at Quantico for the reception.

  Vance lingered near the family after placing the casket in the hearse. Annie was talking to Louis and Guidry’s parents, Andre and Lisette Guidry. Vance kept a respectful distance but as they broke he quietly approached Annie. She saw him approaching and turned into him, her face hiding itself in the chest of his dress blues. His arms encircled her reflexively. He felt a small shudder but then a deep breath as she pulled back. “Gunny, I can’t thank you enough,” she managed in little more than a whisper. “You’re coming over to The Clubs?”

  “Of course, Ma’am. What can I do?”

  “Nothing, Gunny. You’ve already done more than we could have expected. We won’t be here much longer anyway. Going home.” A tear balanced on the lower lashes of her eye and then tumbled as she blinked it away.

  “You know I will be with you tomorrow at the airport and here if you need anything, anytime.”

  “Yes. I know. You are the best. If I could ask one thing, you know what it would be.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Find out why he had to die that way.”

  * * *

  Dr. Avery Quinn sat quietly in a back corner of the private room at The Clubs of Quantico where the friends and family of Major Guidry had assembled for him for the last time. She knew a number of the people gathered but couldn’t find it in her to mingle at the buffet from which they filled their plates.

  She was so caught up in watching the bustle at the table she barely noticed as Vance approached, his own cup of coffee in hand.

  “Doc, you mind if I join you?”

  “I’d welcome it, Gunny.” She moved the chair next to her in his direction.

  He sat down and scanned the room. “I’m really glad there was a good group.”

  “Yeah, his family deserved to know how much we loved the guy.”

  Vance shook his head and then turned back to her. He stared off into the distance and wondered how he could do what Annie Guidry had asked of him.

  “Hey, Gunny, you doing okay?” Dr. Quinn broke through his private hell of grief. “This must have been really hard.“

  “Doc, I am still trying to come to terms with what we did that night. Why it went down the way it did.“

  “Gunny, you know how this works . . . It comes in waves. Just when you think you’ve got it under control, something happens and you’re in over your head again.“

  “I get that but there is some very weird stuff going on here, too, Doc.”

  “Weird stuff?” Her face reflected her confusion.

  “Yeah, it is bigger than just the mess at the attache’s and our bungled chase. I need to talk to you.”

  “What are you talking about, Gunny? I mean, between the detectives in MacLean and the State Department investigators . . . aren’t they all over this?”

  “They know some things but I get the feeling that there are some things they aren’t being allowed to look at too closely. And I know for sure there are some complications at the embassy.”

  “The Norwegian Embassy? C’mon . . . They’re squeaky clean.”

  “That’s what you’d suppose but there are things that don’t make sense. I can’t talk about it here. Are you headed back to the University after this?”

  “Definitely. Are you coming back?”

  “Yeah, I am going to go to the airport tomorrow with the Guidry family to make sure they are covered there but I’m headed back to the University after this.”

  “Let’s oscar mik
e,” she said as she rose to her feet. “We can’t wait for the experts to figure it out,” she said with a wink.

  Vance’s amusement at the awkward use of Marine speak by Dr. Quinn triggered a reaction he hadn’t expected but her obvious love for Marines and the Marine Corps made him feel unexpectedly emotional. Or maybe it was something else.

  * * *

  They found the halls of the University quiet. It was winter break for students so there was a good chance to reconvene in Avery’s office and hope for a chance to speak uninterrupted. Like most offices, its décor hinted at a life beyond academe. Books on institutional effectiveness, statistical analysis, and adult education lined the shelves as well as the University factbooks. Pictures of children, grandchildren and golf foursomes graced her credenza. A window sill offered a display of gifts from her tenure at the University: a flag in a display case that had flown over an FOB in Iraq, a cover for desert cammies she had found in the parking lot with the name “LCpl Moore” penned into the headband and an orchid gracefully curving around a spent artillery shell from Commandant Vandergrift’s funeral salute.

  Vance settled into an overstuffed chair as Avery handed him a fresh coffee and she took her seat behind her desk, swiveling her chair to the left so she could cross her black-stockinged legs. Avery Quinn was nearing retirement from federal service but her age was somewhat mysterious. She was a committed runner, often taking the long Purvis Road route for mid-day runs and loved hearing Marines give her a shouted “yut” when they recognized her on Fuller Road. She could easily pass for someone 10 years younger and she loved seeing people’s surprise when she mentioned grandchildren. Her blond hair was typically pulled back in a twist and her style never drifted toward business casual. She worked out at Barber Gym, using free weights as well as the machines to stay fit but her real strength was when questions about statistical measurement or research protocols came up. She was almost always the only woman in the conference room but when all eyes came to call, she spoke with authority and command.

  As Vance filled her in on what he had learned, Avery had to stop and ask Vance to repeat himself several times. Each time, she shook her head and interrupted him with questions and objections that betrayed her disbelief. She knew Aksel from his time as a military faculty member at the University and the portrait that Vance conveyed didn’t make sense with what she knew of this exemplary officer.

  She had a far easier time accepting the information about Anton Kulyak, the Chechen whom she had never met. Even if the details of his success in building a drug distribution operation seemed exaggerated, she knew enough about the recent history of Chechnya to believe the people who had survived were capable of extraordinary resourcefulness. The battles at Grozny, the insurgency in the hills above the city and the deprivation it inflicted were probably more than adequate training in managing the challenges of entrepreneurship in Washington, DC.

  “So Aksel was between a rock and a hard place with this Kool character who is operating out of a half-assed restaurant in DC.”

  “Basically, yeah, it isn’t a pretty picture. And the reason the attache was killed and we got caught up in it has something to do with that operation. The shooter who took out the attache and was killed with Guidry was Chechen.”

  “Oh, for fuck sake . . . ” Quinn rolled her eyes and put her coffee cup on a coaster. “Why were you two there?”

  “Aksel thinks that Siggordson wanted us to be there for him because he had been busted and was going back to Oslo. He might have thought that Aksel would relapse from the rehab they put him through and wanted us to be there for him if he needed us. From what Aksel tells me the effects of the drug he is on now to keep him clean would make him full-blown dope sick.” Vance squinted. “What was that drug? Natrazone? Naltexon? Something like that. He said the few times he wasn’t able to get heroin and he started to withdraw were some of the worst of his life. He said he would never risk that again.”

  “Yes, but if he is committed to his own recovery and the drug helps keep him clean, why’d Siggordson call you?”

  “I don’t know but I’d guess we were there to keep him from giving up on being an officer in the Norwegian Army. That they would back him and we were the guys who would remind him of why it was worth fighting for.”

  “And Guidry was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Well, yes, except we should never have split up. He might be here today if we had stayed together.”

  Avery face softened. “C’mon, Gunny . . . the what-if’s of tactics. Monday morning quarterbacking a real fight? It’s a dead end.”

  “I know. I’m just going to keep digging until we get to the bottom of it.”

  “So what’s the next move?”

  “I’m going to check out Le Vizit Kafé.”

  “Whoa . . . wait a minute. But you said that you knew this Chechen, Kulyak?”

  “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. He wouldn’t recognize me.” He paused. “I’m just checking it out.”

  “Let me do that. He doesn’t know me. If he’s there and sees me, he isn’t going to make anything of it,” Quinn argued.

  “No.” A pause. “No! there is no reason for you to get anywhere near this, Doc.”

  “Well, I can think of a few . . . ”

  Vance’s skepticism was apparent. “Such as?”

  “You need this big Ph.D. brain of mine to do the heavy lifting.”

  Vance smiled, shaking his head.

  Avery looked down at her hands nested in her lap. “Hey, I know I wasn’t as close to Guidry as you. Never could be. But I knew him. He and I were friends, too. He deserves to have the truth come out and I have a right to help.” She looked up at Vance unblinking.

  “Pulling rank ain’t fair, Doc.” He didn’t want Dr. Quinn to get close to the action but he valued her ability to get through the noise to the core of issues. “Why don’t you stay here and you and I sort through the stuff I bring back?”

  “Hey, how about this,” she retorted. “I go anyway on my own.”

  “Wait a minute . . . ” Vance was caught flat-footed by her bulldog grip on this bone of contention.

  “I go to the District all the time.” She paused. “You’re not the boss of me.” She couldn’t repress the grin that followed.

  Vance’s chiseled jaw clenched but he raised both hands. “Okay. How about this . . . We both go and we just check it from a distance.”

  “Huh . . . ” Quinn cocked her head considering the plan B. “Okay, we’ll both go.”

  “But I am squad leader here.”

  “Understood.”

  “We get an idea of who comes and goes. That’s it.”

  Quinn nodded. “Roger that. Who knows though? I might get hungry.”

  “Doc, no joke. We do not split up or get funny on this. It is strictly recon.”

  “Okaaay,” Quinn closed her eyes. “Sheesh.”

  Vance didn’t respond. He was remembering that last time he split up from his teammate. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Chapter 12

  The plane taking Major Lestat Guidry home to New Orleans was set to take off from Reagan National at 1345.

  Gunnery Sergeant Roscoe Vance dressed in civilian attire was ready to launch for the final stage of his farewell to his friend at 1200. He had offered to travel with Annie but she demurred. She said that between Les’ family and hers, she was well cared for. Still, Vance felt like he was sending her off into the world unprotected. It was her call but the Marine Corps wasn’t like that. He was going home with two Marines from TBS as bereavement escorts but it was hard for Vance to let go.

  The plan was for him to swing by and pick up Doc Quinn and head to Reagan. She was ready and they headed up I-95 at a time of day that would get them there on time. When they got to Reagan, Avery took the car and headed to the cell phone lot. Vance entered into the concourse and found the American Airlines check-in desk. He found Annie just dropping her bags. She was focused on the task at hand.


  “Hey, guys,” Vance spoke to the rambunctious boys dashing around her like electrons circling a nucleus. “How are you doing, Ma’am?”

  “We’re keeping it real, Gunny.” She nodded to a young man talking to the agent handling her check-in and said, “This very nice young man is going to help us at the gate so you really didn’t need to come.”

  “Well, it looks like you have help but I hate to leave you like this.” He noted that Ollie and Beau were playing a weird game of tag that used their fellow travelers as obstacles. Thank God for the kids, he thought.

  “You aren’t, Gunny. The TBS Marines? Kinkaide and Gable? They are taking care of Les . . . ” She broke, her face betraying the pain under the composure. With a little shake of her head, she willed herself back to calm. “They’re coming with us . . . may already be at the gate. I am discharging you.” Her eyes were brimming as they had been yesterday but for a different farewell. “What is it they say? We have the watch. You can stand down.” They knew that they might not see each other again. She was saying good-bye to her Marine Corps home, her Marine Corps family but she knew that if they needed anything, nothing would stand between them.

  “Okay, Ma’am. I will let you go home but you know where to reach me.”

  Annie didn’t say anything. Her eyes met his with sadness and love. One last hug as she gathered her sons, nodded to her escort that she was ready and walked to the escalator with a gait as stiff and proper as anyone in formation . . . in black three-inch heels.

  * * *

  Avery swung the car neatly into the space between the other people picking up departures and the constant flow of shuttles. Vance got into the passenger seat and she pulled out to the George Washington Parkway headed to the Williams Bridge going into the District. They cruised easily over the Potomac, easing past the Tidal Basin and the Mandarin Oriental to 14th St NW.

  “So, where is this place?” Avery navigated the traffic expertly, muttering under her breath about one driver’s hesitancy and yelling outright at someone who stopped and without warning turned on his flashers. “Nice! Real nice, asshole,” she hollered out.