by P A Duncan
Corazon glanced at her husband. “No trouble at all,” she murmured.
Tension radiated from the couple, so physical Mai could almost see it. Gerald Parker’s handshake was a quick jerk, and his narrowed eyes were wary when Jay introduced them.
“Siobhan, stay here for a moment. I need to talk to Jerry for a sec,” Carroll said. He gave the baby a kiss and handed her back to her mother. He and Parker went into another room.
“Please, have seat,” Corazon said. “Can I get you drink? Food?”
Mai sat on the worn sofa. “No, thank you. Jay and I ate before we arrived.”
Corazon remained standing, the baby in her fierce embrace.
“Won’t you sit?” Mai said. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day with such a wee one around.”
Corazon’s mouth opened to say no, but she looked over her shoulder toward where her husband had gone. She sat on a recliner, perched on the edge of the seat cushion, baby on her lap.
When Carroll and Parker reentered the living room, Parker glowered at Corazon. She almost leapt up from the recliner for him to flop in it.
“Corazon,” Parker said, “get Jay and me a beer.”
“Ma’am, I get you one?” Corazon asked Mai, as Carroll sat next to her on the sofa.
“It’s Siobhan, please, and no thank you.”
Corazon handed the baby to her husband, who held the child with a tenderness Mai hadn’t expected.
“I was thinking,” Parker said, “when things slow down in a couple of days, we should ride up and see my brother.”
“Not for a while. Siobhan’s here to see me.”
“So?” Parker said. “You’re here to help me, not screw around.”
Mai fixed a smile in place and turned to Parker. “Jay tells me you met in the Army,” she said.
The scowl Parker had given his wife, now fell on her. “Yeah. What of it?”
“Nothing. Making small talk.”
“Jay and I have work to do tomorrow. We can’t stay up all night making small talk with women.”
“I was being polite, Mr. Parker. No need to be testy,” Mai said, though, after Terrell she was on the cusp of that herself.
Corazon entered with the two beers and handed them off.
Parker’s eyes locked with Mai’s, and he said, “Corazon, show Jay’s friend which room is hers.”
Mai rose and followed Corazon down a short hallway, past a bathroom and two small bedrooms to another at the end of the hall.
The room had a twin bed and a small dresser. Scattered about were the accoutrements of a teen-aged boy’s life: posters of sports figures, a baseball glove, and a boom box. This was where Parker’s older child stayed during visits, she supposed. If Jay had been staying in this room, he’d removed any trace of himself.
Corazon left her alone to unpack. Mai made quick work of it, ending by placing the copy of The Turner Diaries Carroll had given her on the seat of a chair by the bed. A little window dressing. She’d brought none of her surveillance equipment with her, but she longed for a parabolic mic to hear what Parker and Carroll discussed. At the window she took in the twilight. The slight glow on the horizon was probably the closest large town, Enid, Oklahoma.
Alexei had called from Springfield, Missouri. How far away was she from there? From her duffel she took the road atlas she always carried with her and did a quick calculation. Four and a half hours. She looked to the east. So close and yet…
Enough sentimentality, she thought. Instead, she concentrated on her surroundings: a field of tall corn, another dotted with cattle.
She opened the door to the room and heard the men’s voices, low but sounding urgent. Mai retraced her steps back down the hallway. She entered the living room and took in the body language: The two men leaned toward each other and looked up at her as if they’d been caught in something. Corazon and the baby were nowhere to be seen.
“Excuse me. It’s a nice evening,” Mai said. “I’d like to walk outside a bit. If that’s all right.”
Carroll frowned and stood. “Is that a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’d like some air.”
“I’ll go with you,” Carroll said. He missed Parker’s grimace of displeasure.
They walked along the road running through the farm, not speaking, the only noise the sharp chirrup of crickets and the gentle lowing of cattle. The smells of farm life reminded Mai of the stables of her youth, warm with horseflesh but always needing mucking.
“Quiet,” she said, almost whispering. “Not like Cambridge.”
“Too quiet for me,” Carroll said. “I’m glad for some different company. There’s a couple of bars in Enid with some decent music. Hey, about that guy back at the diner…”
“Forget him, Jay.”
“It’s hard to forget someone you pulled a gun on.”
“People have hard heads, and the point needs to be driven home.”
“How did he know where to find you?”
“I’m thinking some of my so-called sponsors have big gobs.”
“I’m glad you’re here. With me. Lay low, and I’ll keep an eye out.”
Mai stopped and turned to him. “I’m not some fecking helpless bimbo.”
“Whoa. Didn’t say that. Friends watch each other’s backs, remember.”
“I’ve survived the British Army, the RUC, and the IRA. One man was child’s play, but you come charging over. What if he’d shot you?”
Carroll stepped close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her cheek. “You were concerned that guy would hurt me?”
“That shouldn’t surprise you.”
“It doesn’t. It’s… Well, cool.”
“I don’t think your friend likes me.” She nodded toward the house.
“Ignore him.”
“I don’t want to be a problem.” She almost stopped. He didn’t realize she was playing him. No, she forged on. “I’ve no real home. I can’t go back to the only home I’ve known. I live at the behest of others, hoping I don’t wear out my welcome.”
His hands cupped her face. “No one here will make you feel that way. I’ll make sure of it. Relax. You know, letting others take care of you a while doesn’t mean you can’t take of yourself.”
The unfocused anger at the anonymity of government juxtaposed with his compassion for her, his gentle and affectionate handling of a child were difficult for her to reconcile. She looked up into his earnest face. No frowning. No snarls. No dead eyes. Was he capable of an act of revenge large enough to gain the attention he wanted? Did he even understand the implications of such an act?
“You have to understand,” Mai said, “it’s hard for me to let someone in. It’s self-sufficient I’ve been for a long time.” Exactly what she’d said to Alexei when she kept him at a distance.
“Tell me,” Carroll murmured.
“Tell you what?”
“Why you left Ireland?”
Mai watched his face for a reaction and said, “One bomb too many.”
His eyes widened in surprise, soon replaced by the hollow blankness she’d observed before. She’d struck close to home.
“Jerry’s right about one thing. It’s late for farm life,” Carroll said. “We’d best get back. I need to sleep so I can help Jer in the morning.”
“What can I do to help? It’s been a while, but it’ll come back to me.”
“You sleep in, get some extra rest. I think you could use it,” he said.
When they entered the house, Mai had the distinct impression they’d interrupted an argument between Parker and his wife. Again, she looked as if she’d been crying. Parker’s face was flushed.
Mai bid them both good night and headed toward her room, Jay at her heels. At the doorway, she thought he’d ask to come in, but he didn’t.
“Uh, the baby is sleeping in Jerry and Corazon’s room, and I’m in the middle room there,” he said, pointing. “If you need anything, knock.”
“Thanks. I will.”
�
��But, uh, uh, give me some time to get some pants on. I, uh, don’t sleep in anything.” His eyes hadn’t left hers, seeking some reaction.
Tit for tat, me boyo, she thought. “Same for me. Good night, Jay.”
“Sleep well,” he said. He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a gesture Alexei had used.
Mai stepped inside the room and closed the door. His footsteps retreated. There was no lock on the door, and Mai took the ladder-back chair from beside the bed and wedged it under the doorknob. Crude and hackneyed but effective. She undressed and pulled on running shorts and a tee-shirt. The Beretta went beneath her pillow, and she crawled between the sheets. More tired than she realized, she dozed almost immediately, one ear tuned to the doorway.
Old habits died hard.
40
Good Spy
Dawn brought mist and humidity with it, and because she’d slept so early, Mai woke before anyone else. The strange bed, the strange house, and the domestic tension should have conspired for a restless night. She’d slept well and dreamlessly for the first time since Alexei had left.
It was still black outside, and she burrowed beneath the covers and dozed again. The conversation with Terrell replayed in her head. Yugoslavia was a closed wound, though the scar remained. That would not do her in, and she’d advise the psychiatrist of that at the earliest opportunity.
Yet, the memory intruded: the child inside her, kicking, those kicks growing weaker each day until they stopped altogether. The last child she’d likely ever have, made from Alexei’s unwavering affection. After so long, she’d accepted that from him, believed in his feelings. The dead child, his unexpected tearful reaction to it, had been confirmation. She didn’t know why she still couldn’t express to him what she felt. She left it unsaid, knowing he could read her well.
She threw back the covers when other memories intruded and opted to take a diversionary run. Mai made the bed in the semi-darkness and dressed in running clothes, the Beretta in a belly belt holster under her oversized Harvard tee-shirt. She wrote a note for Carroll to explain where she’d gone and slipped it beneath the door to his room. She used the bathroom and tiptoed outside.
The mist lay heavy atop the corn stalks and trees as she stretched. She checked the time and began her run, jogging at first and building up to a full gallop along the road winding through the farm. The terrain had small hills; nothing she couldn’t handle. Besides, the workout would do her good.
She ran a half-hour out, figured it was more than three miles, and reversed course back to the house. From the driveway she saw Carroll waiting on the porch. He wore jeans and a dark tee-shirt. His face showed a slight irritation from a fresh shave on sensitive skin. When she stopped at the bottom step, he tossed her a towel.
“How far?” he asked.
“I’d say close to seven miles, round trip,” she replied. “Good morning.”
“‘Morning. You could have woke me. I wouldn’t have minded a run.”
“I’ll remember next time. Do I smell coffee?”
“Yep. Breakfast in a few minutes. What? No tea?” He pronounced it “tay” as Siobhan did.
“Tea is for afternoons. Only coffee will do in the morning. I’m not holding anyone up from eating, am I?”
“No. I had a talk with Jerry, explaining you’re my guest.”
“Ah, his manners are no worse than a nasty British sergeant major who cursed me every way but Sunday, but thanks.”
“Let’s get some breakfast. Oh, thanks for letting me know where you were.” He blushed, managing to look like the boy next door instead of a potential terrorist, if indeed that’s what he was.
At the small kitchen table, four place settings was a crowd. The baby cooed and babbled from a highchair to Parker’s right. Mai smelled bacon and eggs, not her usual fare, but after the run her stomach rumbled.
To Corazon, Carroll said, “Siobhan wants coffee.” Not an order, but no please or thank you, either.
“Show me where the cups are, and I’ll get myself some,” Mai said.
“No, no,” Corazon said, with a panicky smile. “You sit. I fix. Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream, please. Thank you.”
The woman gave a start, as if she’d never heard those words, and went to the coffee pot.
Parker’s nose was buried in an Enid newspaper, coffee at hand. Mai murmured, “Good morning” and got a grunt in reply. He turned a page.
Before she gave Mai her coffee, Corazon put a generous plate of fried eggs, bacon, and home fries before her husband. He began to eat.
“How many eggs, Jay?” Corazon asked.
“Two,” he replied. At least he poured his own coffee.
“Miss? How many you want and how cooked?”
“One and whatever’s easiest for you.”
“Scrambled?”
“That’s fine. Thank you. Are you sure I can’t help?”
“No, no. You are guest.”
Jay grinned at Mai. “No to-mah-toes to dice,” he teased.
“Don’t be making fun of my lack of kitchen skills,” she said, smiling at him.
Parker looked up from his food. “You better learn, then,” he said. “Jay can eat like a horse. A woman who can’t cook isn’t much help.”
“Ah, lad, but I can field-strip and reassemble an AR-15 blindfolded, not to mention producing a two-inch grouping at 200 yards. How about you?”
“Siobhan’s almost as good as me,” Carroll said, beaming.
“I thought micks were only good with bombs,” Parker said.
“Don’t be calling me a mick, Parker,” Mai said.
“Jerry…”
Parker, who’d been all authoritarian in his kitchen, shrank back in his chair. Corazon froze, giving Mai a wide-eyed stare.
“Just joking,” Parker murmured.
Norton Ball was right. A bully backed down when you stood up to him.
Parker pushed his plate away. “Jay, I’ll be in the tool shed when you’re done.” He stood up and looked at his wife. “You make sure lunch is ready at noon. Hear me?” Parker let the screen door slam behind him.
Corazon put Mai’s and Carroll’s plates on the table, plucked the baby from the high chair, and left the room.
“Wow, that was harsh,” Carroll said.
“What, me? You Americans think mick is some quaint Irish nickname, but to us it’s like being called a nigger.”
Carroll winced at the word. “He didn’t know.”
“Now he does.”
“Jerry’s into this religion where women know their place and blacks are meant to be, like, servants or something. That’s all.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“No, that’s Jerry’s thing. I mean, I like women to be women, you know, but I served with blacks and whites who were do-nothings. Patriotism is my deal, not some half-baked religion started by some self-appointed prophet.”
Prophet. Alexei had mentioned Elijah the Prophet. Before she could ask him to explain, Carroll said, “Look, I’m not telling you what to do or anything, but this is Jerry’s house.”
“A house where he treats his wife like a servant and calls a guest names. This is who I am, Jay. Independent and self-sufficient because that’s how I’ve always had to be. If that’s not good enough for your friend, or you, I’d best leave now and save you the embarrassment.”
“No, please, don’t leave. You’re different from the women Jerry’s been exposed to is all. You’re not a loud-mouth liar like his first wife. The women in the military were either lesbians or would fuck any guy who looked at them. He’ll adjust. I’ll… I’ll talk to him again.” He toyed with his food and added, “I thought this getting to know each other better would be easy.”
“Jay, lad, the one thing I’ve never been is easy.”
He laughed and said, “That’s for sure. So, what will you do today?”
“Well, I don’t just talk the talk. If there’s something around the farm I can do…”
“Remembe
r, you’re here to relax.”
Stuck in a house with a woman who barely spoke English and a baby? “Well, then, where’s the nearest library or book store?”
“There’s a place in Enid called Hastings. They sell books and videos.”
“Good. If I’m to be a lady of leisure, I can do some reading.”
“Can you drive a stick shift?”
“Of course.”
“Take my car into town. There’s a map of Enid in the glove box. Hastings is on Cleveland Street. You can’t miss it. There’s a coffee shop next to it.”
“Sounds good. Should I ask Corazon if she’d like to come?”
“Okay, I understand you’re into the women’s lib thing, but if you take Corazon into town and she’s not back in time to make lunch, Jerry will make it worse on her, not you.”
“Then, I’ll be back in time to help her with lunch.”
He smiled again and gave her ponytail a tug. “You’re an amazing person. You know that, right?”
If you only knew, she thought.
Carroll left the kitchen—and his plate on the table—and went to join Parker. Mai gathered all the dishes and washed them before she showered and redressed.
After her excursion into Enid, Oklahoma, yielded a couple of lurid thrillers (The Chamber and Inca Gold) and a passable mystery (The Alienist), Mai pulled Carroll’s car off on a secluded side road and did what any good spy would do: searched it from bonnet to boot.
41
Ultimatums
Patriot City
Alexei’s group of trainees had progressed to the point he gave them the afternoon off to hone up on their manuals or for target practice. Their final test was upcoming, followed by graduation. That was an elimination event where the training units, two at a time, would go out into the hills and forest within the compound and stalk each other with paintball guns. This went on until a single team stood unconquered. The winning team got a portion of their tuition refunded, but tradition dictated they refuse it. The instructor of the winning team got a large cash bonus.