Gringo Joe

by JD Davis

  Joe looked at Sparky Nussbaum then turned to Remi Sørensen.

  “Ms. Sørensen, what do you think?”

  “I think the intel is better when they are alive, sir.”

  “Ms. Sørensen, my name is Joe. I am not an officer, so it’s just Joe or Sergeant, but not ‘sir.’ Another question, Ms. Sørensen: what do—”

  “Excuse me, Sergeant, but it’s Remi, Corporal, or Sørensen if you prefer, but Ms. Sørensen is my mother.”

  “Duly noted, Corporal. Now, as I was going to say, do you have any experience with communications equipment?”

  “I do actually, quite a bit.”

  “Okay, last question: do you think Mr. Nussbaum should be on this team?”

  Both Doc and Liam looked at Remi and then at Sparky. Sparky’s mouth was open and he looked like a jock who saw his girlfriend kiss the class geek.

  Doc and Liam jerked their heads back to Remi, who looked Sparky directly in the eyes.

  “I think Corporal Nussbaum should sit this one out, Sergeant.”

  All eyes shifted to Sparky, who looked shocked and pissed.

  “Yeah, that’s what I think as well, Remi. Corporal, you’re dismissed.”

  Sparky had a smirk on his face when he grabbed his helmet and headed for the door. He reached for the handle, turned to the group who was still staring at him.

  “I’ll grab my gear; I think I’ll find another place to sleep.”

  When Joe turned to face his team, everyone was smiling.

  “Look, folks, this is not going to be easy but it’s very important. Anyone with reservations—now is your chance.”

  All eyes were on Joe and everyone was still smiling.

  “Liam, I want you three hundred yards out, and Remi, I want you spotting for Liam. Remi, you said you had communication experience. Can you clarify?”

  “I had a seven-day class on blowing up satellite and radio equipment. It’s best if you get the antennas first.”

  Joe looked at Doc, who’s smile had faded and was shaking his head.

  “Want me to go get Sparky?” asked Doc.

  “Remi, do you have any actual experience at calling in positions, air strikes, or equipping a team with wireless coms?”

  “I do not, Sergeant, but by the time we leave I’ll be an expert. No worries.”

  Joe exhaled and looked at Liam and Doc.

  “All right then; as I was saying, Remi, you spot for Liam and handle coms. Doc and I will wear wireless earbuds and be dependent on you for fluid intel. Got it?”

  Liam looked at Remi who nodded then said, “No problem whatsoever, Sergeant.”

  “Doc, we’ll go in and see if we can make friends, check their blood pressure, and ask a few questions. If we find the right sort, someone who hates the Taliban, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Joe looked at each of them, trying to find doubt or reservation, and saw neither.

  “Once we actually identify a viable target and this thing gets real, we’ll have either drone or satellite support from the NSA. Remi, you’ll be getting real-time directions from a controller who will be able to see everything that moves. The important thing is not to panic and keep us updated.

  “Last thing: if we are blindsided or find ourselves in a compromised situation—Liam, you’ll have to make the call. Take as many shots as you can, then take Remi and get out. Are there any questions? All right then, let’s go get some chow and I’ll get an intel update and try to put together a timeline.”

  Doc and Liam walked out and Remi caught Joe by the arm.

  “I will not let you down, Sergeant.”

  “It never crossed my mind, Corporal. We’re lucky to have you. Get something to eat and let me talk to Lee and see who the communications guru on the base is.”

  “If you don’t mind, Sergeant, I’ll take care of it.”

  “All right, Sørensen, your show; just get it done.”

  For the next five days, everyone was busy. Joe, Liam, and Doc were looking at maps and intel reports; every other day, Remi would take a break from her training and check in. When Joe asked how it was going, she said she found the best com guy on base and was learning everything possible. The wireless earpieces had just arrived from Kandahar so she took the opportunity to fit Joe and the Doc. She spotted for Liam every time he went to shoot, and watched real-time satellite footage and could not believe the clarity of the men moving along the road—all from a camera mounted to a drone at 12,000 feet.

  On Saturday afternoon, Colonel Pike gave Joe the intel he needed and the coordinates for two poppy farms. Joe called the team together and told them they would be heading out early Sunday morning. Everyone thought the team was ready. It was pizza and movie night, so the plan was to meet there. Joe asked Remi to stay for a second after the meeting.

  “I never had a chance to ask about your communications tutor. It sounds like you had someone very good.”

  Remi looked at Joe and smiled. “Did you always know?”

  “It’s an important mission, Remi; it’s my job to know.”

  “When I first got here, I couldn’t catch a break. I joined the Army to make a difference; I wanted to fight. I’ve always had to prove myself because I’m a girl, and because I’m short. I am the baby of seven kids and the first six were boys. I could whip two of them by the time I was twelve and two others were afraid of me. When I finally deployed to a FOB, I was continually passed over for patrols and opportunities to engage the Taliban. It’s actually worse in the International Security Force than the Norwegian Army; no one wants to get the little girl killed. Anyway, Sparky saw my frustration and came to my rescue. He got me on a couple of patrols with him, then a few with Doc. Sparky and I flirted a little and I even kissed him goodnight once. You know, it gets lonely out here but nothing else happened, if you know what I mean. He didn’t have anything to do with me getting this assignment, and in fact it pissed him off. I found out about your mission from Sparky, then hitched a ride to HQ and personally asked Col. Gunderson for a break. Sparky said it was probably a suicide mission and neither of us should have anything to do with it. He didn’t actually know I was on the team until I showed up at the mess hall.”

  “How in the heck, Remi, did you get his help to train you after you threw him under the bus; he had to have felt betrayed?”

  “It was easy, Sergeant, I just asked him. He knows I told the truth. It embarrassed him, but he and I both knew his heart wasn’t in the mission. He had a very difficult first deployment and lost two good friends in Iraq. He’s the very best at his job but he hates this war, and he wants to go home. When I explained how dangerous it was for the rest of the team, he agreed. He also knew how badly I did want to be on the team. It’s the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, so he agreed; no one could do a better job at training me than Sparky.”

  “That is an amazing story, Corporal, and I’m glad it all worked out. I don’t have any regrets about booting him from the team, but he sounds like a stand-up guy.”

  “He’s okay, Joe, but he had no business on this mission. Now how about some pizza?”

  CHAPTER 6

  DIVA

  Mel Randle woke early and surprisingly refreshed from her evening at Segundo Vida. The previous day had begun with caution and common sense thrown to the wind, as she had taken on three different hot coffees drinks—one double shot, iced caramel macchiato, plus a sundry of homemade baked delights. Fortunately the handsome barista had rescued her from herself, and treated her to an unforgettable evening where she had learned volumes about his family and disclosed almost nothing about herself. She wasn’t hiding closely guarded secrets or ashamed of anything; it was the tremendous storm raging within that was scaring her to death. Mel had spent the last seven years of her life meticulously preparing for something, which, suddenly, she had little interest in or any passion to pursue.

  Her family was, as they say on the dairy, “going to have a cow.” This was especially true of her brother Peter Alan Randle, or Rand as everyone c
alled him. Since they were kids, he had been her closest friend and biggest supporter. Her dad would hear her out, shake his head in a Swedish kind-of-way, then slowly walk off toward the calving stalls. Her mom would cry, pray, and trust Jesus but Rand—oh my God, Rand was going to confront her, reason with her, then totally freak out. In the meantime, what Mel needed was a comforting quad shot of espresso hidden beneath a dense blanket of steamed whole milk. Afterward she needed a friend, and the closest thing she had was a virtual stranger called Gringo Joe.

  She slipped into her favorite pair of faded blue jeans, a comfortable tee shirt, and an extremely old and well-worn SF Giants ball cap. It was still foggy outside, so she also threw on her Stanford hoodie and started walking toward the heavenly aroma of cinnamon and freshly roasted coffee beans. Mel was used to spending time alone and had always been cautious and observant, extremely aware of her surroundings. This morning, what caught her eye, was a Hispanic man hunched down in his nondescript white van across from the shop. She would have let it pass but, unmistakably, she had seen a camera with a telephoto lens pointed toward Joe’s. Once the man saw her, he lowered the camera and looked away. She kept her eyes forward, pulled her hoodie over her ball cap, and started grooving to music that wasn’t playing.

  “Sólo otro niño perezoso Americano. Just another lazy American kid,” he mumbled before starting his van and driving away.

  “Good morning!” said a perky bleach-blonde girl with a full sleeve of tats on her left arm.

  “Good morning,” Mel replied.

  “Is Joe around? He said he was opening this morning.”

  “Oh! You must be the reason,” she replied.

  “Ahhh … the reason?” quipped Mel with a slight tinge of rawness to her voice.

  “Hey, someone needs her happy drink. No disrespect intended there, girly girl. It’s only because Joe had such a spring in his step and was whistling this morning. Heck, I figured he got lucky last night, but I should have known better. I swear the man is a closet priest or something, but have you ever laid eyes on such a hunk … I’m just say’n.”

  Still chewing on the “girly girl” comment, Mel decided a quad shot might be the tipping point, so to save Ms. Perky an ass-whipping, she dialed it back a bit and ordered a tall two-shot vanilla latte, paid, and took a seat by the window. In no time at all, Ms. Perky bounced over with her coffee, just as a couple walked in.

  “Hey, Diva,” said the woman, as her significant other showed a toothy grin.

  “Hey, girly girl,” she replied.

  “Will it be the usual for you two?”

  “Of course, but make it to go. Where’s Joe?”

  “Oh, he rushed out of here a few minutes ago. He does that all the time. I swear he probably went to hear a confession or something.”

  The couple laughed, as if getting an inside joke.

  “Yep,” the woman said.

  “I’ve tried to set that hunk up a dozen times with my cousin, Louise, but he’ll have none of it. I swear I daydream about him myself.”

  “I’m right here, honey.”

  “Just kidding, sweetie. You know I got eyes for nobody but you, pumpkin.”

  Everyone laughed and even Mel had to hide a grin. After the couple left, in no time at all, Diva walked over with a warm marionberry scone.

  “On the house,” she said.

  “It takes folks a time or two to get me but I swear, girly girl, I’ll grow on you.”

  Mel looked at the plate and then back at Diva.

  “Girly girl, you had me at the scone.”

  They both giggled, and then the two indulged in some shallow banter about the community of Steelhead.

  “It’s darn near impossible to find a single man around here who has all his teeth, a job, and don’t still live with his mama.”

  Mel told Diva she had traveled extensively and assured her it wasn’t a problem exclusive to Steelhead, Oregon.

  “It seemed to have happened when I was in college. It was like something in the universe broke and all at once men stopped being men. They all began playing video games and moved back in with their parents. I swear, by my sophomore year in college, girls couldn’t get a date unless they played Halo or League of Legends.”

  “Girly girl I hear ya, but I’m just say’n, I love that you’ve seen all those places and done so many things—and college, my goodness! I thought about beauty school but Joe talked me out of it. He has me gettin’ my GED and pays me real good. I pick on him, but I swear they broke the mold with that one. And, girly girl, if you don’t know it yet, his folks got more money than the governor.”

  A door slammed in a back room and Joe walked in looking a bit disheveled but still better than most.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

  “Hello yourself. You get a girl hooked on caffeine and sugar and you expect her to run off and get treatments elsewhere?”

  “Well, it just so happens we do offer a rehab program right here for the low, low price of nineteen ninety-nine.”

  They both laughed as Joe excused himself and headed for several customers patiently waiting for his coveted attention. Diva started making drinks and Mel caught up on a few emails. She scrolled through them but tried to ignore the ones from several law firms asking her to finalize an interview. Of course, there were about a dozen texts from her brother. Mel walked out front, sat on a comfortable bench, and called her mom. It was going well but when her mom mentioned that her dad and Rand were worried about her, she almost cried.

  “Everything is okay—right, honey? I mean we are all so proud of you and can’t wait until you land a big job and find yourself a nice boy to marry.”

  “Listen, Mom. I have a few things to work through before I … before I … well, do something I may regret. I know it sounds uncharacteristic but I need a few more weeks. I love you all and I’ll be in touch—okay, Mom?”

  “Okay, honey, but we sure are worried about you, so you let us know if there is anything wrong. And you know your daddy will walk over hot coals for his little girl.”

  “I know, Mom, and I’m fine … really. Besides, I did meet a nice boy. You’d both like him. I have to go, Mom. I love you.”

  As soon as she hung up, she stomped her foot and clenched her teeth.

  “Oh, my God,” then she screeched irritably to herself. “Did I really just tell my mom I met a nice boy?”

  Of course she was shamelessly appeasing her mother, and it was a spur-of-the-moment remark, but still.

  “Oh-my-God!” she said again, this time a bit louder.

  “Are you all right?”

  Mel jumped and almost took a swing at Joe who was looking at her with substantial concern. Before her filters kicked in, Mel said, “No! No, I’m not all right. And why would a man hiding in a van be taking pictures of your coffee shop?”

  Joe reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “What if we take a drive out to the vineyard? It’s where I do my best listening and, right now, I think you desperately need to talk. What do you say, Mel? Will you trust me?”

  She had to turn away before he saw her eyes puddle. “I could use a friend right now, Joe, but I really don’t want to be a bother.”

  They said goodbye to Diva who warned Joe to be on his best behavior.

  “I like you, girly girl. Let’s talk again, okay?”

  Mel smiled, hugged her goodbye, then insisted they swing by the studio apartment so she could freshen up. They drove the seven miles and were about to pull into Segundo Vida when a nondescript white van passed them slowly, headed back into town.

  “Hey! That’s the—”

  But before she could finish, Joe quickly and coolly said, “Eyes forward, Mel, and don’t turn around.”

  Once they parked, Mel looked at Joe.

  “Perhaps we both have some talking to do.”

  Drummer was down in California on business, so they said hello to Lizzie who insisted they have some quiche, fresh out of
the oven. They shared a little vineyard gossip with his mom then retired to a very rustic office Joe had started building years earlier. It was located in the loft of a barn, which once served as storage for old wine barrels. At the top of the stairs, Mel saw the same craftsman style as the coffee shop. There was an antique desk, two red leather chairs, and some built-in shelves full of hardback and leather-bound books. She glanced at the titles and saw a lot of stuff about religion and history. There were three original painting on the walls; all exhibited the vibrant colors and festive people of Latin America. However, it was the photographs that caught Mel’s eye. There was one of a man playing a guitar and a beautiful woman singing with him.

  “That’s Jose and Sonata,” said Joe, watching carefully as she snooped around.

  Mel smiled and moved on to a large photograph of Joe. He was standing next to some children in what appeared to be Mexico or Central America. Then there was a picture of him in his Army Ranger uniform, standing next to a very beautiful Hispanic woman.

  “Wow! She’s really pretty, and I had no idea you had been in the military.” Mel was dying to ask who she was and her relationship to Joe, but she let it pass. “You are so full of surprises.”

  Joe smiled and nodded.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Mel, and let’s talk about you for a change. And maybe we should start with all the anxiety you’re trying so hard to disguise.”

  She flopped heavily into the chair and remembered what Diva has said about Joe taking confessions. Mel wasn’t Catholic but she believed in God, and if a good confession would help, so be it.

  She told Joe all about her upbringing, her parents, and her close relationship with her brother who was now a successful walnut grower and commodities broker in Central California. Mostly, she spoke of the expectations—the ones she had always bore from her dad and the weightier ones she had placed on herself.

  “I was the valedictorian of my class and captain of the debate team. I lettered in track and, after six years of bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder, I earned a black belt in judo. I graduated magna cum laude from Stanford, spent a hellish summer in Washington DC working as an intern, and then graduated with honors from Stanford Law School. I studied very little and passed the California bar quite easily. My law professors loved me, my peers hated me, most guys were intimidated by me, and now I’m being courted by some fairly impressive law firms.”