by Tony Lavely
“Yes,” Jamse said, “your motivation may have persuaded you to unnecessary action. However, I am convinced that some of the blame must lie at my feet, in that I did not provide you with the information you needed, far less the opportunity you strongly desired. Susan and Kevin both pointed out that when you have a complete context, you will not feel the need to strike out on your own. As often, at least.” He paused to allow an uncharacteristic grin cross his face. “They not only felt they had to promise me this, but that they could do so.
“I trust Rebecca to provide Michael and Melissa—and yourselves as well—information sufficient to their needs, keeping private items of a sensitive nature when appropriate. For example, Rebecca, our meeting earlier. Will you discuss that with them?”
Beckie thought back to the information they had shared earlier. “Well, they already know about the injury status, but not about the shrinks, and I’m not sure I’ll tell them all about that. I’m not sure we, meaning you, I guess, trust doctors like that.
“The report from Sam, I’ll tell them that, I think, and about your trip.” She saw both men notice her emphasis.
“That is enough. You have proven your ability to share partial information carefully.” He looked at her parents. “The trip to which Rebecca referred as mine, is hers also, if we agree tonight.
“We should therefore proceed. Speaking for Ian Jamse, LLC, I offer Rebecca a position with us.” Now Beckie understood, but didn’t really believe. To be a part of this bunch of people—competent, pleasant, fun, deadly people—but Jamse was still talking. “She would start as an apprentice, to be sure, and part time. She has not yet completed school, I believe.”
Only part time; I can still go to school—how cool is that!
“One more year, then college, we hoped.” Jim murmured.
Later, Beckie wouldn’t say, maybe wasn’t sure, if it was shock or good sense that kept her silent while others carried the conversation.
“That would fit perfectly with our plans. Our activity in the current project will encompass the balance of this summer, beyond doubt, as Rebecca learns the business side of our work. We will also require her to receive additional training, unlikely to be available elsewhere.”
“Training?” Jean asked.
“Specialized for our requirements.”
“Including instruction about armor and weapons when greeting family?” Jim said with a grin.
“I didn’t use them!”
Jamse was smiling too. It made his face quite peasant, not as tired. “Susan and Elena were beside themselves at allowing you to carry a weapon off the plane, especially with the safety off. I believe they had special words with Derek on the subject.”
“He didn’t seem all that remorseful this afternoon,” Beckie said.
“I expect not; his explanation went far to mollify them, at least as far as carrying it was concerned.
“I would like to explain further to your parents what happened yesterday, particularly as they trusted us with not only you but your brother and their ward, trusted us without reservation or opposition. I assure you, they are special people.”
Beckie smiled. “I know that, for sure.”
He nodded and turned back to Jim and Jean. “As I said, we were favorably impressed by Rebecca, even before yesterday. There was nothing in particular to either enhance or diminish her status until the helicopter trip back to the resort following Michael’s injury. Kevin was watching you, Rebecca.”
Remembering the scene, she began to blush.
“While he was captivated by the way you handled helping all the others—with Melissa’s significant help, to be sure—while dressed in that nearly non-existent… I do not recall his term for the ‘garment’ you wore. He observed that you got everyone else attended and covered, including him, then sat next to Michael. You became even more interesting to him in the next few minutes.
“He did admit that his leg hurt quite a lot, and Susan had not given him any painkiller, so his attention needed to be taken. Your figure, as you should be aware, is eminently pleasing for males especially to observe. But that passed quickly as he watched what he described as a sea change in your carriage, your appearance. The look and hold you and Michael shared likewise changed character, and he saw you and he talking—”
“’Bout my going back.”
“Of course. He was not sufficiently close to hear, else he would have attempted to dissuade you as I assume Michael did.” She nodded. “You arrived, and I think, made sure you wheedled Elena out of her spare uniform before your parents especially saw the scraps of fabric you were wearing.”
“Why was that, Beckie?’ Jean asked, “We saw Melissa, and the other girls as well; you would hardly have been a disappointment.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she said dryly, then waved off Jean’s rejoinder. “Just kidding. I was some embarrassed to have you see me like that, especially you, Dad, after London. I didn’t need you to go through that again.
“But the main reason is that I wanted you to see the uniform, so you’d get the message that I was serious about going back.”
“Thank you.” Jamse took over again. “Elena called me once you broached the idea to her. We thought to see what stuff you are made of, under what we blithely thought would be both a safe and controlled exercise.” He smiled again. “My accident with the girl’s wild shot was not part of the exercise, I assure you.
“As you surmised this afternoon, the comments about leaving the girls and others in the cavern were intended to elicit your reaction. It was passing easy for the team to subordinate their leadership tendencies when you took steps to direct them.”
He turned to Jean and Jim before continuing. “You should be proud of your daughter, of the qualities and character you have helped instill in her. We provided opportunities for her to, I will not say fail, but react in a more traditional manner, and Rebecca chose the more difficult yet desirable action.” He tipped his head in their direction. “Although you may question my definition of desirability.”
“In addition, she sensed the vacuum in leadership—partly occasioned by my enforced trip to see Doctor Ardan, partly intentional—and without delay, did her best to fill the gap; taking charge.”
He smiled at Beckie again. He’s really good looking when he smiles.
“You did exactly what they judged they would have done in the situation with which you were presented. We had a rare opportunity and we took advantage of it.
“While it may not suit my purposes, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that these attributes would serve you well in other, more traditional careers. Also, you are not yet of age; even if you were, I would not contravene your parents’ wishes. To do so would put you in an untenable position.
“I have come to the point where I should make sure we are not speaking at cross purposes. Rebecca, if we can come to an arrangement, would you care to join us, to work with us?”
She looked at him again for the first time. A moment to collect her scattered, leaping, joyful thoughts. “I haveta admit, Mr. Jamse, that this is absolutely the last thing I thought you were going to say.” A sheepish grin mirrored her thoughts. “I was certain you were gonna holler on me for gettin’ in the way yesterday. And all along, too. I did wonder why no one else was taking charge; telling us what to do. But I didn’t wonder much once it got uncomfortable waiting—all those girls yet to find and we’re jus’ standing there. And then Derek said, you know.
“None of that’s what you’re asking though. You’ve given me a good lead; if Mom and Dad and I can agree, I’d like very much to work with you.”
“Do not expect to spearhead every detail, Rebecca,” he said, at once admonishing her and laughing.
“Thank heavens!” Sobering slightly, she said, “Let’s ask Mom and Dad what other questions they have of you?”
“It is paid, I assume?”
“It is, certainly. Remuneration is not on a regular schedule; rather it depends on the contracts we take, an
d the part each team member fills. I did not mention it because I do not believe your decision depends in any significant way on it. Suffice to say, experience teaches that you will not want Rebecca as your dependent for tax purposes; she will want a competent investment advisor in short order.”
“Will you speak to the dangers?”
“I cannot minimize them, especially as you…” He tipped his head toward Jean. “… were good enough to assist in the medical trailer. You have seen at one extreme, Kevin, with almost more scar tissue than not. Many of us sustain injuries; it is a likely byproduct of our profession. To counter, we provide excellent care. No one has died while working with us; several of us have had no exceptional wounds at all.”
He looked at Beckie. “All that said, it must be a part of your consideration.”
“Thanks, Mr. Jamse,” Beckie acknowledged. “More questions for him?” She waited as both parents agreed, no, no more now. “One more thing before we leave, I think. I’ve been thinking about it, and in the interest of keeping everything above board, I have to say that I’m both miffed and pleased about the way yesterday was handled. Miffed because you may have put the mission, therefore the girls, at increased risk, and pleased because once again, you thought enough of me to do it.” She stood.
“Rebecca, thank you for your candor. I understand your feelings, at least partially. All of our missions are conducted in the same manner: a nominal leader selected for traits bearing well on the goals to be achieved; buttressed by a capable team, all of whom are also able to lead but not only that: they follow direction and at the same time provide feedback about the on-going plan as it unfolds. Just as both Elena and Derek did yesterday as you moved through the task of collecting the girls. The rest of the team were not aware of our test; only that you provided reasonable direction which achieved the goal.”
“Arrigato, sensei.” Beckie bowed slightly from the waist, a formal acknowledgement of his leadership without relinquishing her own status. Walking away with her parents following, she reflected that Japanese was so good at that kind of thing. Outside, on the path to the cottage, she turned to face her parents, walking hand in hand. She couldn’t read the expressions on their faces until they both smiled at her. She let them catch up.
Beckie almost wished that the quiet walk between the house and the cottage was not so short. The three left Melissa and Mike to the movie they were engrossed in, choosing to settle in the overstuffed furniture of the patio. The open railing gave a pleasant view of the beach almost at their feet. The sun was setting off to their right; the small waves, black except for the gold and amber flashes of the evening light, rolled straight in to break ever so gently on the salmon tinted sand, likewise sidelit from the heavens. The few clouds benefited from the same palette; the sky itself, blue to the west, was deepening into ultramarine on its way to black. Stars had not yet gathered the energy necessary to pierce the blanket before them.
Beckie took a deep breath as they sat there, considering the scene, thinking about the future. Something splashed in the surf; a bird, perhaps, finding food for self or family. “Here, I think,” she said quietly.
“You’d live here?” Jean couldn’t quite hold her surprise.
Beckie explained the arrangements that Kevin had in turn explained to her a year before, a lifetime before, two days ago. “So, I’d stay here, I think. Maybe Shalin and Kevin would let me use this place.”
“What about hurricanes? They do considerable damage here, you know.”
That’s hardly what we’re here to talk about. “Look at this place, Dad. The walls are almost a yard thick. And the shutters; Mike says they’re full dimension boards, whatever that means besides they’re strong.”
“But that’s not the issue, is it, Beckie?” Jean asked, gently acknowledging that Beckie was following her father’s lead.
“It’s not, Mom, you’re right,” she responded, thinking that she needed to keep her wits about her, not rush to answer or comment quite as impulsively as she usually did. She waited.
Jim spoke again. “It’s about being a mercenary, killing people under contract. I spoke about the evangelical side of your nature in London, and you haven’t changed in the past couple of weeks. I don’t understand what you’re looking for, so I don’t know how to judge your seeking it with Ian and his band of merry men, who I am sure are not as Robin Hood like as this job might lead you to believe.”
“She wants to belong,” Jean said. “She’s not been close to anyone but Melissa… and Mike, and they’re involved with each other now, which leaves Beckie out. And like many, perhaps most, girls her age, she wants to make a difference.”
“But she has us to belong to!”
Beckie was pleased that her parents were working out her position, needing nothing more than her nods or head shakes to carry their own arguments forward. It gave new insight to Jean’s feelings; she wondered what her mother had really given up when she married and had children.
“No, it’s not the same with us. We’re unconditional, we won’t leave no matter what. That’s not what she needs—well, yes, she does need that, too—but what she’s looking for is to be valued for what she can bring, what she can do to forward the agenda. That’s why she went to London to dance in that club, because it was what she thought she could do to help. And as it turned out, perhaps she brought the problem to a head sooner than it would have been, by forcing Ian to notice a very determined young woman trying to help.”
“Wendy’s instant message…” overlapped her father’s similar deprecating remark.
“I take nothing away from Wendy or any of the other girls who survived that hell. But Beckie brought interest back to Ian. What did he just tell us? When he stopped to pick you up, his motivation was retrieving Beckie, nothing more. He was manifestly at the end of his tether. I think he was ready to stop looking for the girls. Maybe he was responding to financial pressures, I don’t know. Certainly they’d had no good results. When he drove us back from the airport in Albuquerque, though, he was again excited, ready to tilt at windmills if need be.”
“Being almost killed—”
He did tell her!
“Maybe, maybe, but I think Beckie’s attempt to help had more to do with it than a fairly routine threat on his life. Not the opportunity to see her nude, either, though…” addressing Beckie, “you need have no fear, love, your body is a fine example.”
Beckie blushed at the completely unexpected and frank appraisal from her mother. “Mom—”
“I know. We women never believe that we look as attractive as we do. That’s why…” She reached over to her husband, her look of affection and love so strong. “That’s why we have wonderful men like this to keep telling us, believing it even if we don’t.”
Another astonishment for Beckie. Her mom also needed reassurance, and she was one of the most competent and attractive women that Beckie knew. The strength of the bond between her parents was becoming clearer and clearer. She now understood that they would accept whatever decision the three of them made, and live with it without recriminations or second guessing. She hoped she’d be able to do as well. She said only, “Guess that’s why I’ve always loved him, too.”
The evening was quite dark; the faint sound of the movie intruded little. Beckie pulled her chair around to face them.
“I can’t say that I want to work with Mr. Jamse all my life, but I think I can do some good, both for me and for everyone, working here. For me, an education not many others have a chance at. For others, by helping the group take jobs that have a benefit beyond getting paid. If you know what I mean?”
“Socially conscious mercenaries. There’s a thought.” Jim smiled.
“Something in Ian’s manner tells me this is a risk he has foreseen, and is willing to accept.”
How could that be? Risk? “Huh?”
“Ian recognizes your need to be a good deed doer, to coin a phrase,” Jean said, “and the contrast that makes with the more usual pursuits of his g
roup. My sense is that he has discussed this with them; they elect to invite you either because of, or in spite of that risk.”
Not yet willing to roll over, Jim asked, “What about the danger? And the killing?”
Beckie sat up again, then relaxed. “Those are both part of it, I guess. Not the best parts of it, for sure. The gun and the knife I had yesterday; I never used them… Well, I did use the knife, to cut my skirt to make a wrap, and the boss woman’s shirt so we could move her—don’t ask. I didn’t hurt her with it.
“But there were injured people there, and dead people. One of the guys from them, he had taken care of six of the girls, plus Lissa and me, and he seemed okay, not brutal or vicious or lewd or anything like that. Sue said he helped them, too. He was dead on the floor; his own people killed him. The guy that Erica killed. Others. We took the injured ones out but the cops killed them, Mr. Jamse said. The one Erica killed… I guess part of the test was Derek sending me in to decide if we should bring him out with us: was he injured? Not pretty. Skull smashed by a heavy stone lamp thrown by a girl who had every reason in the world to want revenge. I didn’t ask Sue, but I guess both his blood and brains were running down his chest, over his… penis and legs. His mouth was open in a kind of ‘o’ of surprise, the rest of his face and most of his head was gone, crushed.
“I threw up. And thinking back on it, I hope I do every time I see someone die, ‘cause I never want to get used to it.
“No one of us killed except in a fire fight or in defense,” she promised. “We took extra time to get everyone out of the place before it flooded.”
In a change of direction, she mused, “I liked being able to worry on the victims, and not the criminals, too.”
“Careful there, baby,” Jim cautioned. “Vigilantism that way comes, too easily.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Things are seldom how they seem, in black—”