“Mmm,” John said. Alex slipped into the bed next to him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You and your hairy palms?”
John kissed her lips.
“Why are you still naked?” she asked.
Her hand ran across his chest. Trying to decide what to do, her fingers pulled the dog tag along its chain before moving down his body. Her fingertips swirled the thin line of hair that went from his navel to his trimmed public hair. John sighed at her touch.
“I had this enlightening conversation with Trece,” John said.
Alex jerked up to look at him. “Yeah?”
“He explained in great detail how I get hair on my palms,” John said. He took her hand and demonstrated the movement along him. “He went on to explain other American euphemisms.”
“Like what?”
John slipped on top of her. He kissed her lips.
“I remembered something from my OB rotation in medical school.”
“Uh huh,” she said. She lifted up so he could pull her T-shirt over her head.
“The concern after hysterectomy is infection from intercourse,” he said.
Hooking his fingers under her panties, he pulled them off.
“What does this have to do with Trece?” she asked.
She gasped as John pulled her nipple into his mouth.
“He told me the meaning of the phrase: ‘southern route.’”
“Mmmm.”
His mouth continued moving down her body. His tongue explored her belly button. Moving along her body, his lips pulled at her soft flesh. She shifted her hips as his tongue and lips found purchase in her tender folds.
“Wait! What about you? You can’t keep growing hair on your palms.”
“Trece also reminded me of the term ‘69.’”
When he lifted her body over his, she giggled. She had just started when he said:
“I wanted to ask you something.”
She looked at his face.
“You know, I realize I don’t really know about you and Zack.”
“You’re asking me about Zack? Now?”
“I realized I didn’t know… the other day when you were upset. I keep forgetting to ask.”
“I must not be very good at this,” she said.
Peering at his face, she saw he was embarrassed. She gave him a soft smile and move to the bed. She shifted her body around so her head rested on his shoulder.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
“I’d prefer to talk about this. We can return to our festivities when we’re done,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“What happened between you and Zack?”
“Nothing,” Alex said.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing?’”
“I mean, Zack told everyone we were lovers and we weren’t,” Alex said. “It broke my heart. So when he started up again later, I broke his nose.”
“Did you kiss him?” he asked
“Yesterday, I kissed his cheek. He gave me a peck on the lips like he always does. You know, I don’t think I’ve gone out of my way to kiss Zack… ever. Probably. We’d have to ask Max.”
“No.” John’s voice was frustrated. “As a kid, did you kiss? Make out? Fool around?”
“He kissed me once, messed his pants and passed out,” Alex said. “At a party.”
“So you’re saying...?”
“I’m not saying anything,” Alex said.
John sat up to look at her.
“But Alex, who was your first lover? This really freaks me out. I felt like I knew you. Now I don’t feel like I know you at all.”
“I know that feeling.”
She gave him a wry look. He fell back to the bed in agreement. He stared at the ceiling for a moment.
“Who was your first lover?”
“You.”
“What? How is that even possible?”
“Zack told everyone I was a whore so I couldn’t get a date in high school. I didn’t want boyfriends or lovers in the Army. Any complication could keep me out of Forces training. Men weren’t worth the risk. I met you right after training. It’s pretty simple.”
“Oh,” John said. “Oh.”
“Oh what?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked,” Alex said. “Plus you were like Mister Girl a Night guy. I was kind of embarrassed.”
“Oh.”
John was silent so long she looked up to see if he had fallen asleep. She saw tears in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m overwhelmed,” he said. “It’s hard for me to imagine you haven’t had a million lovers. You’re sure?”
Alex nodded.
“I’m the luckiest man in the entire world.” John laughed.
F
Chapter forty-Two
Three hours later
Wednesday morning
April 2 – 3:15 A.M. MDT
Denver, CO
Alex lay awake with John nestled around her. Sex always worked to keep her pain at bay. She felt comfortable, but wide awake.
Her small journal whispered her name from the carriage house. Unwilling to give up the festivities, she put the journal out of her mind. The journal’s secrets poked at her unconscious.
Could she really let that little Marine look at her journal first? Not a chance. Despite her efforts at being silent, John awoke while she was getting dressed.
“Lusting for cookies and coffee again?” he asked.
“How did you…?”
“Oh love, I finally know all your secrets,” he said.
“So you think,” she laughed.
“Are you in pain?”
“I feel loose and happy.”
He laughed at her usual post-coital reference.
“Can I wear your fleece?”
“Of course,” he said.
She pulled the fluffy blue fleece over her head. The soft fabric smelled of him. She picked up her laptop case.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Kitchen first. I want some...”
“Coffee and cookies,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be in the carriage house.”
He was asleep before she left their room. Standing on the third floor landing, she listened to the house breathe. Everyone was asleep.
She crept to the kitchen. While the coffee dripped, she dug in the cabinets for some cookies. Of course, the cookie jar was empty. She was about to give up when she remembered Cian’s secret stash of cookies in the freezer. She gave a soft yippee when she found a zip lock bag of lemon drop cookies.
While the coffee brewed, she checked to see if the party was cleaned up. She found Eoin and his curly red haired girlfriend nestled on the couch together in the living room. The woman has so much curly hair Alex could only see the red hair and Eoin’s face. If that was the soon-to-be wife, they were going to have a lot of red haired kids.
Chuckling at her joke, she collected her coffee and added milk. She took half of the lemon drops. Imagining Cian finding his stash raided, she put a few cookies back then tucked them back in the freezer. At the backyard door, she checked her handgun to make sure it was loaded. She slipped the gun back into its sacrum holster. She opened the door to a blast of cold and jogged to the carriage house.
Turning off the security for the carriage house, she wandered through the downstairs until she found the thermostat. She cranked up the heat. Settling in the small bedroom on the first floor, she was going to take her jacket off when she realized she was too cold. She opened the door in hopes the room would warm up faster. Taking her laptop from its case, she turned it on, then read Private Peaches’ note.
“The books are expensive fakes. Did you have them x-rayed?” Answering out loud, she said, “No. We didn’t think of it.”
“There’s a plastic tracking device that doesn’t necessarily show up on the us
ual tests. You can see it with x-ray.” Alex read.
“Good work, Private Peaches,” she said out loud. “Wish you could tell me what they were tracking and who ‘they’ are.”
Alex tossed the books in a corner of the room. She would have them x-rayed tomorrow.
She took Helene’s Magic 8 ball from the zippered pouch of her laptop case. Turning it over, she saw, “NOT A CHANCE.” Smiling, she set it next to her small team journal. She placed her broken Zippo lighter next to the Magic 8 ball. For good measure, she put Charlie’s journal next to the lighter. Biting her lip, she let out a sigh.
Each item held some secret.
Every word in the journals could be a clue.
She had no idea what secret or what clue.
She reached for her small journal then stopped. Her hand hung in the air over the journal. What if the small journal unlocked the key to the swirl of Joiner, the Weasel, the Boy Scout and the deaths of her team? What if it didn’t? She poured a cup of coffee, to avoid the question.
Stalling, she opened an email from Krystal Joiner.
Subject: Update
Hi Alex,
I wanted to let you know that Cory is out of the ICU. They don’t know if he’s out of the woods yet, but they’re hopeful. His organs are responding to treatment. We won’t know about permanent damage for a couple months.
I’m sure you heard Bobby and Beth Ann are here with Tristan. Tristan made it through the surgery and they think he will be able to go home in the next couple of days. Home to Long Beach, that is.
Cody will probably go home today. His stupid momma keeps talking about how “mean” the Texas Rangers were to her. But she’s relieved Cody is alive.
Thanks to you, and God of course, we think the boys will make a full recovery. Of course, the insurance company is squawking about payment but luckily they have a good agent! ;)
Sue Ann is in bad shape. She fell apart at Daniel and David’s funeral. She’s been hospitalized. I don’t think she’ll recover.
I attached a little update of my own. It’s only been a few days, but I think he’s my dream come true. Make me a fairy wish, Alex.
Your friend always,
Krystal
P.S. Do you see the funny tattoo on his shoulder? I asked him what it meant and he said it was a military thing. Since you’re the only person I know in the military, do you know what it means?
Alex clicked open the attachment to find a picture of the head and bare shoulders of the Texas Ranger who escorted Krystal to Texas. Tucked on his side, he was in bed and smiling at the camera. His bare shoulder displayed his black script ‘F’ tattoo.
Alex smiled. Sometimes her little meddling worked.
“Lazy butt,” Alex said out loud to herself. “Get to work.”
Clipping on her laptop’s webcam, Alex dialed the map phone through her computer. She took out a pad of paper and sharpened her yellow pencil.
“Lieutenant Colonel Alexandra Hargreaves Drayson. It is April 2, 03:42,” Alex said into the recorder. “This is the first review of my Fey Special Forces small team journal recovered approximately twelve hours ago.”
She held up the journal to the video recorder. Opening the small journal, she began to read the Navajo based code. These little journals held her private thoughts, plans and random details. This book started about seven months before the team was killed.
Her entries were routine – who won at cards, what Jesse was getting Maria for her birthday, thoughts about John and plans with Max. Her fingers grazed the text. Her life on the Fey Special Forces Team had been really good. Nestled within the team, she was happy, safe and accomplished.
She pulled the large team journal from her laptop case. She had all but memorized this journal. During the assault, she carried this journal from friend to dead friend only to hide it under a crate when she heard someone coming. Something in this journal was valuable, important. She had no idea what.
The large journal began the day Joseph left the team to spend six months with Nancy. After fifteen years of infertility, Nancy was pregnant with twin girls. The small journal held a page of potential names for the twins and everyone’s bets. Of course, Joseph and Nancy took one look at their babies and named them Joy and Hope.
Alex smiled. She couldn’t think of better names for the even-tempered miracle girls.
Glancing at the big journal, Alex noticed repeated words in the large journal and the small journal. About a month after the Boy Scout joined the team, she started a running conversation between the two journals. One word on one page. Another word in the small journal then the next couple words in the large journals.
No one would ever notice these words. No one but Max. In school, Alex and Max used to communicate to each other via the books they shared. The words were identified by small details added to vowels. An ‘a’ had a flat tail and the space in an ‘e’ was darkened. ‘I’s had crosses for dots. The details were subtle. You’d have to know what they meant to have any idea they were code.
She flipped back and forth between the journals. Slowly, a private narrative, written by Alex for Alex’s eyes only, emerged.
She had been unsure of the Boy Scout from the very beginning. Intelligence had only spotty details about him and his life. Moreover, she couldn’t find anyone who’d ever worked with him. She’d encouraged Charlie to trade him. And Charlie had tried to trade him. More than once. He was never able to get rid of him. She was left to try to determine what he was doing on their team.
She monitored every thing the Boy Scout did — every phone call, every conversation and every email. The intelligence center set up an area to hold all of this data. After everyone was killed, she asked for access to the area and was told the account never existed. Whether the account existed or not, the intelligence center would never tell her how to find it. She would have insisted on at least that level of security.
Her small journal gave the exact location, passwords, and codes to get into her data on the Boy Scout. After downloading her database to her laptop, she logged out to continue working her codes.
When she finished the small journal, she began working backward through another pattern of words until she found familiar words – ‘security token.’ Last year, Eleazar believed her Zippo was a security token that would get him into... What? The Zippo had a small computer chip connected to the spark wheel. Neither Alex nor the team at military intelligence were able to determine what the Zippo did. One thing was certain. It was not a security token.
In the dim light, she noticed a wrinkle in the back binding of the journal. She rubbed her fingers across the inside back cover of the journal. That was no wrinkle. There was something glued into the book.
Using her Leatherman Freestyle knife, she gently pulled the paper from the cardboard. A 2G microSD memory card and a brass key were taped to the cardboard of the small journal. She turned memory card over. Hoping to find some marking on it, she held it close to her eyes. Shrugging, she took a card reader from her laptop bag. She hooked the reader to her computer then slipped in the memory card.
The card held thirty-three photos of the Fey Special Forces Team at various locations. Every photo revealed laughing, joking teammates. Alex had to rip herself away from the forgotten images of joy. Now was not the time. Taking out the microSD memory card, she set it next to the Magic 8 ball.
The key was a standard brass key. Also about two inches long, the key was stamped ‘Made in the U.S.A’ on one side. The other side had a series of numbers stamped on it. Clicking through the internet, she went to a Homeland Security site which described keys. She was able to match the key to a filing cabinet or compartment key. The key’s numbers indicated the lock’s make and model not its location or even what the lock might be associated with. Not sure what to do next, Alex tapped the key against the table.
Picking up the key to set it aside, her thumb felt a pattern on the “Made in the U.S.A.” side of the key. Even next to her eyes, Alex saw nothing. But her thumb trac
ed the tiny fairy she stamped at the bottom of maps. She must have stamped the key then wiped off the ink.
Setting the key next to the microSD memory card, Alex turned the large journal over. Nothing there. There was nothing under the paper and cardboard of the front either. The weight of the large journal caused it to slip out of her hand and land on the table with a clink.
A clink?
Alex noticed the binding was separated from the leather surround. Flexing the book open, Alex looked down the binding. Something was glued onto the leather next to the paper binding. Turning the book over, she looked down the binding to find another item glued to the leather. Using her knife, she dislodged the object from the glue then flicked it out of the tight space. A black plastic piece bounced on the table.
Alex picked up the inch and a half long plastic piece. It looked like half of a keyless entry system. Keyless entry systems are sometimes called ‘security tokens.’ Bingo.
From the other end of the binding, she retrieved the matching inch and a half long plastic piece. The two pieces fit together with a satisfying click. This was not a code generator, nor an intelligence key. The logo and markings had been burned off. She smelled the unit. The markings were burned off with acid. That’s something she would have done.
She set the plastic box next to the memory card and the key. Three’s the charm. To what?
Alex tapped her lip with her finger and stared off into space. Without a computer chip and battery, this security token won’t work. Plus she had no idea what any of these pieces unlocked. She only knew Eleazar believed a security token was the key to retrieving his property. ‘I want my property.’ He’d said that over and over again. What property?
“Check your lighter,” Jesse said.
Alex picked up her broken Zippo lighter. Clicking the lighter, she heard a mechanical whirring sound. The sound went for a few seconds then stopped.
Learning to Stand Page 36