The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel

by Michael Yudov

  “Got it Boss. Be there or be square. Out.”

  The ‘Boss” part was well deserved if she had managed to put something together. I wanted her to know I was still behind her. I didn’t know what the hell she had done, but she’d said don’t ask, so I wouldn’t. What I would do was be ready. In about eight and a half minutes Evie was supposed to walk in and pull me out of this joint. I hoped fervently that she was bringing my clothes with her. I was beginning to feel like one of the extras in ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. I started doing isometric exercises, even though it hurt like hell. I had to loosen up, and quickly.

  One more shot, huh? What Ronnie didn’t get yet was that she’d never get to spend a lifetime cleaning those latrines. This shot was our last. That meant that the next time there would be no recognition at all from the Canadian Government. We’d either die, win, or possibly languish forever in some foreign hellhole that would make military prison look like a holiday camp. But the last option was very unlikely. The second option was fairly unlikely, and the first option was the most likely. That’s just the way these things go. Great job, isn’t it?

  I was glad she had managed to keep Collette, because she was the key to my plans, and I couldn’t think of any other way to do it except ways that would probably get us killed before we succeeded. I hadn’t asked for this one, not technically, but since I had jumped in I was doing it the way I had always done it. Don’t give up, and don’t give in. Like Springsteen says, ‘No retreat, baby, no surrender’.

  I wanted to think that this mission would end like my old missions used to end. I’d get my ass chewed out and about three levels of brass would give me several reasons why I should be just tossed into prison, which is the speech Ronnie probably heard recently, and then I’d be grudgingly cited and commended at the same time. Then sent on the next mission. It was such a swell cycle.

  I thought I’d managed to break out of it, and then I’d just jumped back in. Since I was in, I felt no compunction to alter the outcome. Just the opposite, in fact. This was definitely my last mission, so I was going to win outright. It was a pride thing. Perfect record and all, that sort of drivel. Talk about Pavlov’s dog. Sheesh.

  The seconds and minutes had been counting off in my mental clock since the link with Ronnie, and we were down to about two and a half minutes. My isometrics were causing me to break out into a half decent sweat, mostly from the pain. That was good, because it meant that they had stopped giving me anything stronger than a mild analgesic, assuming, naturally that I wouldn’t be starting my Olympic training any time soon. That would have been effective, except that I had to leave now.

  Not that the service hadn’t been good. I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t say much, because I’d been out cold most of the time. They had been nice enough to give me my own guard, though. It’s always cozy when you feel protected.

  I briefly flashed on Therese, and wondered what she was thinking right now. I wondered what I was thinking right now. My head started to hurt right along with my body, so I quickly stopped thinking those thoughts. What you don’t think can’t hurt you. One minute.

  Whatever was being played out for us was probably well in place by now, so I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the cot. I stripped off the terry cloth robe and used it to wipe the sweat from my face and neck. Twenty seconds.

  My link was still on and apparently active, as once more static crackled into my ear, and a friendly voice followed it. Evie. She was ahead of schedule. I was really hoping that meant there was a time allowance for me to get dressed, as opposed to Evie being early to the ball.

  “Respond, sir.” I’d have to break her of this new ‘sir’ habit as soon as we got out of here. Promotions warp your mind. That’s why everyone at the top is nuts. For now, I’d play along.

  “Here and ready, Ma’am.”

  The door opened fast-like, but only a crack. A crack big enough to let Evie in, but that was it. It closed just as fast. Evie was fully dressed and ready to rock. Her regulation Navy watch cap looked pretty good on her. She didn’t come into the room any further than she had to. She was flat against the door, gently lowering her bag of goodies to the floor and pulling a tiny canister of something from one of her many pockets. My guess was a covering spray, or something like it. The camera couldn’t see her yet, because she was barely in the room.

  She checked the nozzle orientation on her little can, and reached above her head just high enough not to be painted when she pressed the button. That’s where the camera was. She pressed the button, a one second burst, recapped the can and it disappeared back into her black pocket-ridden outfit.

  I could see right away that the result was interesting. The camera lens was fully covered with a speckled black and white coating. It would look like ‘snow’, or white noise, video style, and then frozen. Like a frozen and dead digital signal. Cool.

  I jumped up from the cot as Evie pulled one of the zippers open on her bag sitting on the floor, and tossed me a small bundle that was tightly wrapped. Clothes. Bless her heart. They weren’t the ones I’d arrived with, but now wasn’t the time to be fashion conscious. Or possessive.

  She checked her watch, and said “Quickly, sir.” I didn’t need any extra urging. I was more sick of the room than I was from the injuries. I sweated profusely the whole time, indicating to me that I’d better be doing a lot more of those exercises before I took on anything more serious than a casual evening stroll.

  She’d brought me a duplicate outfit to what she was wearing. Black pants and shirt, with so many pockets I didn’t have time to count them, and a regulation woolen watch cap. The footwear was black Reebok walking shoes, totally silent on just about any surface, and damned if they didn’t fit perfectly. I was dressed in approximately ten or twelve seconds. Thank goodness, my convalescence outfit had included underwear. I’m shy like that.

  We were out the door two seconds after I’d done my laces. The guard was noticeable by his absence, and the corridor was clear as well. I followed Evie’s lead and we didn’t say another word until we got topside. There were a few sharply inclined stairways, almost ladder-angle, and by the time we were up top I was beginning to get dizzy. The fresh night air helped to clear my head.

  As we came through the hatchway to the main deck, I saw that we were to be escorted. Two navy police, first class, with side arms, and one seaman first class, about the size of a small house. Nobody introduced themselves, so I stayed quiet. They quickly marched us across the deck to the launch ladder, and stood guard while we climbed down into the waiting boat. I hadn’t seen another soul, so it was obvious that this was set up by someone in authority, and timed with impressive precision. The launch platform was about four floors down, and I suspected that there was an easier way to do it, because the Brass wouldn’t be bothered with all that climbing. Up or down. By the time, we hit the second turn in the stairway I could see that the launch we had waiting for us was a big sucker, and had an indoors to it. You could probably have fit thirty people in there. I was hoping that everyone we wanted was already on board.

  There were another two guards with automatic rifles standing at attention on the landing platform when we got down there. Again, no one spoke, so I kept my silence as well. As soon as we hit the platform, Evie turned and saluted the guards, grabbed me by my good arm, and helped me onto the launch. That first step was a doozy. One slip and a decent swell would crush you between the launch and the platform. Bye-bye birdie.

  We’d no sooner hit the deck of the launch and the engines started to rev up. The guards had loosened the bow and stern lines as we were stepping on board, and we were under way. I had to catch my balance as I stumbled. Evie’s grip on my arm hadn’t loosened, and that saved me from falling flat on my face on the launch deck. We were away. Going somewhere is always better than going nowhere, unless you happen to be right where you want to be. My grandfather had always said confusing things like that to me when I’d been about five years old. Of course, when I grew up
, it made a little bit more sense.

  Evie was steering me towards the hatchway to the interior, so I followed along. As soon as we were inside and the hatch was dogged, I turned and lo and behold! That ‘ole gang ‘o mine!

  Well, not everyone, but the ones that were needed for the final legs of this fun-filled trip.

  Ronnie was sitting in a very comfortable looking lounge-type arrangement of the interior, talking with Casey, Loretta, Ted, which I hadn’t expected, and George, which I half-had. Collette was sitting off in a corner by herself. That meant that the only person that had been dropped from the ‘team’ had been Therese. I passed over that and kept right on going. I’d deal with it when it was appropriate, not a second before. Civilians had been dropped from the roster, I’d been told. Therese was the only one missing, and she’d been responsible for the getaway from the French authorities, driving that ‘Vette of mine like an Indy racer. Of course, I was only speculating that we’d escaped the French, as I was out like a light at the time. I was sure I’d be brought up to speed in due time. First things first.

  George was the fly in the ointment for me. I wanted him home with Sarah and the baby. He wasn’t cut out for this type of work, no matter what he thought, and besides, it took up too much of my resources worrying about him. Ronnie would just have to accept my plans for George. It would draw on his strengths, keep him doing what he did best, good Police work, and mostly out of harm’s way.

  Ronnie stopped talking when we entered the cabin, and got up and walked over to me. Then she actually gave me a hug. A small one mind you, the sort of hug your sister gives you when you’ve been especially not-awful at one of her dinner parties or something. Like a hug of relief.

  “Welcome back, mister. Come on and sit down, you look like hell.”

  “Thanks, boss, it’s nice to see you too. You look good. In fact, you all look pretty good, considering.” There was no way to play it but straight up the middle. She looked great. Much better than when I’d seen her last, that’s for sure. Everybody was sort of grinning and there was a general feeling of success in the air.

  I had to admit, that just being here together was a success of a major kind. The last thing I remember from before the ‘white room’ routine hadn’t been too conducive to continued survival, but here we all were, except for Therese. I tried again to block her out of my mind as Evie and Ronnie helped me to one of the big, comfy lounge chairs.

  Apparently, I did look like hell, because I felt it as well, so I accepted rather than fall over. With every passing moment my strength was fading. I’d have to do something about that, and quick.

  As soon as I was settled in one of the large chairs, I started to feel better.

  The lounge area was all done up in teak and polished brass, and the furniture was definitely comfortable, but was covered in a long-lasting type of canvas in a dark colour. Convenient. Function combined with form. Typical officers’ Navy. This definitely wasn’t an enlisted man’s craft.

  Ronnie was getting down to it, so I did my best to focus. What a ride we’d had, and it turned out that she actually had a plan that sounded a lot better than any she would have come up with when I’d first met her. She learned fast.

  We had about another fifteen minutes before we hit dockside, and there was going to be a car ready to take Ted and George straight to the airport, headed home on a one-way ticket. The rest of us were supposed to finish up the mission post-haste, with a minimum of fuss, read “Stop blowing up everything in sight and leaving dead bodies in our wake like a clear-cut logging team on an old growth forest free pass.” Doubtful.

  I quickly interjected my plans for both Ted and George, which would mean that Ted went with us, and George took over complete control of Ronnie’s department back in Ottawa for the duration, including all the resources at their disposal. Spy satellites, ciphered global comms, staff, the whole shooting match.

  George tried protesting but didn’t get much further than ‘But, hey…’. Ronnie told him to be quiet, politely but firmly. He took it in a graceful manner and shut his trap.

  Ted, he wanted with us. He had more to offer than he’d done so far, and more reason to offer it. I outlined part of my plans for Ted to Ronnie and the group, and Ronnie quickly agreed to both of my requests. Whoa. Somebody pinch me, I must have been in a dream.

  When the engines started winding down I knew we about to disembark, and as we gathered what we had with us and headed out to the deck, the pain told me it wasn’t any dream. It seemed that Ronnie had come to respect my opinions. Either that, or she’d had the same ideas all along.

  Before I could get a grasp of our surroundings, we were standing on a foggy pier, with three cars close by. The launch was already reversing out of sight in the dark water, heading back to the mother ship to report, I’m sure.

  I checked out the cars waiting for us. Only one had a driver, the one headed for the airport. George and I said our piece and then he took a set of notes that Ronnie had prepared for him in the last ten minutes while we were riding in on the launch. She was getting good.

  He was to wait one day, and then report for active duty in Ottawa at DND HQ, Special Operations Section. Presumably, Ronnie would have had time to set up the authorizations required for his new ‘temporary assignment’. He was finally going to get his Armed Forces Commission, because anyone who headed Ronnie’s department required one. I had no idea if it was to be as temporary as the assignment, but it was worth something in the long run, even if it was temporary.

  Most importantly, we’d have him where he could do the most good for us without getting shot or blown up. Sarah would appreciate that one.

  He was into the car and off before we could draw it out. What had to be done was best done quickly.

  The two remaining cars were being loaded as Ronnie and I stood on the fog-shrouded pier. It was hard to see through all that soup, but I could recognize the Corvette. It was the first car in the line now, as George’s driver pulled away, headed for the airport.

  ~

  Chapter Forty-One

  C

  asey was walking towards the Corvette, obviously headed for the driver’s side. Evie nudged me, and we both joined him. Everyone else followed Ronnie into the last car. While George and I had been talking, the gear had been loaded into both vehicles, and it looked like the adventure was on again. Oh Joy.

  We headed out pretty quickly, with the Corvette in the lead. As we wound our way out of the docks district the fog lessened somewhat, and a city started coming into lighted focus around us. I had the passenger seat, and kept the window rolled down. The fresh air was helping me to clear my head, and it was good to be feeling so refreshed after the last few days.

  Eventually we hit the local ring road, taking it immediately, and by that time it was obvious we were in Gorinchem. Our destination had to be an airfield, I just didn’t know which one. It didn’t actually matter either, as long as it had the planes we wanted, and clearance for our flights. I figured it would have to be a military base, and it was. The whole ride only took about twenty minutes. It was a base alright. A Dutch one. Both Casey and George, he drove the second car, had the requisite papers for entry, and the whole procedure of getting through the gates was so fast that it had had to be prearranged. It was a big base, and, about five minutes later, we pulled up alongside of a couple of planes. Obviously, ours. One big, and one small. Relatively.

  The big one was a Canadian Forces C-130 Hercules Transport Aircraft. I hoped like hell that that was George’s ride. The other one was a privately marked Lear Jet. A small model, maybe twenty passengers or so. Just right for our purposes. It had the payload capacity and the ranges required. Poor George had about fourteen-hour flight ahead of him, with all of the amenities afforded to a crate of tuna. The Forces can be a bitch sometimes. On the upside, the fare was good. As in non-existent, although by the time George got back to Toronto, I’m sure he would gladly be willing to pay a double first class fare out of his own pocket just to hav
e been jammed into a chartered DC-10 holiday tour with a bunch of drunken Euro Skiers, rather than have endured the rigours of that C-130, but he didn’t know that yet. Commissions don’t always come cheap, even if the transportation does.

  I took him aside for a last-minute confab.

  “Listen up Georgey-Boy. I know you’re disappointed that you don’t get to collar the bad guys with your own hands on this one, but you know how much we need to have the home base under our control. It could mean the difference between success and failure for the mission. And you know what that means. I’ll be counting on you, buddy, and in about a week, if the plan pans out, we’ll need some heavy support in South America. At that time, it may even be necessary for you to rejoin us, but don’t say anything to Ronnie just yet. I’ll let you know when the time is right. If Necessary, get it?”

  The look on his face told the story. He wanted to come with us so bad he could taste it, but at the same time he understood everything I had just talked to him about. Which was exactly why we needed him in the office in Ottawa. This was going to be our ace card, and he knew it, so he took it well.

  “Sarah’s going to be ticked that you didn’t come back with me. It’ll be hard to explain.”

  “That’s why you won’t even try. Sarah and Katie are to be taken to a safe house and put under twenty-four-hour guard until this whole mess is shut down, period. You get to pick the men. Use your own, and augment them with any Special Forces people that you deem fit. And arm them to the bloody teeth. Do all of this before you show your face in Ottawa. Don’t take any chances. If you get compromised, we dump the whole thing and Sarah and Katie come first. Code word Radisson. I’ll bring the whole team if I have to. On the flip side, if I need you, it’ll be in Caracas, but Ted will pick you up in Panama City. Civilian airport. Code word Portage. Then just make it down there ASAP, but dump any DOD tail first. Got It?”