Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  Honey didn’t need directions to the chow hall. She followed the stream of men and the aroma of steaks grilling. By the time she entered the large dining hall her mouth was watering. Men with trays of steak, baked potatoes, fries, and various sides passed on their way to tables. Honey piled her own plate with salad, grilled vegetables, and fruit from the buffet. The guy working the grill dropped a medium rare T-bone on her plate that had to be a pound. She searched for an empty table, found one and headed that direction, until Bristol blocked her way.

  “What the fuck did you think you were doing aiming a loaded gun at my best men?” He jabbed a finger at her and she was sure he’d rather grab and shake her.

  She shrugged. “I asked a question as to how the sight had been altered so I could fire accurately. I held my firing stance, turned and asked.” She sidestepped Bristol and continued to the table. He stomped behind her.

  “Bullshit. I was told you threatened to shoot.”

  She sat and tipped her head back. “Shoot?” In her peripheral vision she saw those in earshot watching. “I don’t think so.” She shook her head and transferred her plates to the table. “That would be murder and in full view of cameras. No.” She gave him a smile. “It was good-natured fun. You know, your men give me a weapon with messed-up sights. I have ten seconds to discover how and”—another shrug—“I improvised, adapted, overcame.” She loved using that line. “Watch the vids.”

  “My men say . . . you—”

  “If those are your best men,” she interrupted his bluster, “and they get that nervous and whiny when a weapon is pointed their direction”—she deposited the tray on an empty chair and noticed the large room had grown considerably quiet—“as a USMC major with considerable field experience, I suggest you rethink your definition of best men.”

  Bristol puffed up and turned red. Nostrils flared, lips moved with no words coming out. Honey cracked open her water and took a sip. “Would you like to join me? I can tell you how impressed I am with the facility’s training.”

  He glared at her, hands on hips. She held his gaze. He’d been so prepared to draw her into a battle. Why? Why did he want to do battle? He had a good thing and should be affording her every professional courtesy. All he had to do was let her breeze through, approve everything, and she’d be gone. Bristol’s gazed flicked to a point behind her and his demeanor changed.

  “You pull something like that again and I’ll file a complaint.” He turned abruptly and left.

  Honey looked over her shoulder and saw Verna leaving the room.

  The noise level returned to normal. She sat and cut a chunk of the steak and put it in her mouth. It was good and her stomach growled a thank-you. She scanned the room. Men coming and going all in good humor, no discontent. No glaring stares aimed in her direction. Bristol’s attitude hadn’t trickled down . . . at least not yet. Bear and his buds, Ferret Face and Squeaky—hmm, she liked those names—sat chowing down two tables away. Bear caught her watching and puckered his lips, mimicking kisses. Thank gawd she didn’t have a weak stomach.

  She briefly considered ditching her session in the tech center to observe afternoon survival training in the cement pond. It would be interesting to see how those three did. Muscular men were at a disadvantage in water survival. Muscle doesn’t float and a full stomach would add to the problem. Deciding it wasn’t a good idea, she powered up the iPad and focused on a list of questions for Porter. Fifteen minutes before the appointment she deposited her dishes and tray in the appropriate place and headed to the one and only women’s head she’d seen. She combed her hair, put on lip gloss, and examined her image, then rushed out of the bathroom to find Bear and his buds waiting. The steroid triplets circled her.

  “So ya know, leatherneck Barbie,” Bear said. “We are the best.”

  Leatherneck Barbie? She was impressed. That was a new one. She said nothing and attempted to get around Ferret Face. She was shoved from behind and stumbled. This was behavior she’d experienced before and knew to keep her mouth shut, her hands to herself, and her feet moving. They pushed, elbowed, and taunted her to the corridor junction, where they parted ways. No harm but plenty of foul.

  Honey shook off the encounter and carded herself into the tech center. Porter and four men sat at desks, their gazes going back and forth from desk to wall monitors. Porter looked up, stood and motioned her over. They shook briefly and Porter settled back into her chair, offering Honey the chair next to her. It was team check-in time. Even though some crews were in the middle of their nights, Porter explained it worked out better overall. She listened intently to team leaders in the Philippines and Honduras detail problems and successes working with local militia against terrorists.

  “What happens with these reports?” Honey said. What was being discussed would be important to intelligence gathering in the region. “Do you hand them off?”

  “No. The local government gets the pertinent information first and regional U.S. intelligence sources are second,” Porter responded.

  Honey raised an eyebrow. That should be the other way around.

  “Of course those don’t include comments about company procedures.”

  “Who makes the decision as to what’s reported?”

  “I don’t believe that’s in the scope of your review, and besides,” she said and shrugged, “I don’t know the answer. This is my world.” She swept her hand around. “All I can tell you is, there are a specific set of guidelines that people in the field follow.”

  Porter was correct. It wasn’t part of the review. Honey was curious. Knowing how these people operated could benefit her in the future. She glanced at one of the large screens to the images of four men reporting. “Shouldn’t you be paying attention to what’s going on up there should there be a problem?”

  “No. Problems are called in immediately. These are weekly reports that are videotaped and followed up with emailed reports.”

  Honey pulled her iPad close. “I have questions about security in the field.”

  Honey felt and heard the pressurized doors open. “Sorry I’m late,” McKenzie said, dragging a chair from an empty desk to join them.

  McKenzie and Porter exchanged a look. More silent movie crap.

  “I’m division coordinator. Thought you might have some questions as to how we put all this together.”

  “Some,” Honey said, growing wary. She believed humans have an instinctual early-warning system. Some say they have an inner voice that tells them to run like hell or a feeling like spiders crawling over them. Others see red flags waving. Honey had the red flags and little voice, but her biggest alarm was the vibe like a tuning fork that zinged under her skin and stood up the fine hairs on her body. It began at the base of her skull, spreading down her back and stiffening her spine. Honey had all of the above.

  Chapter 11

  “Something smells good,” Honey called as she came into her kitchen. She looked around but couldn’t see any take-out containers. Buck and Coop came in from the dining room.

  The two of them said nothing, arms folded, grinning. Hell. “Please don’t tell me it’s on YouTube.”

  “It’s not. Santiago thinks we should put it there. The look on those assholes’ faces was priceless.”

  “Santiago and Gunny here?” She put her case on the sideboard and leaned to look into the dining room.

  “They were. Santiago is onto something about that Porter woman. They’re going to her place to observe for a while. Then they’ll be back.”

  “Observe? Does observe involve B and E?”

  “No, ma’am,” Coop said, and they both shook their heads. “We discussed it. Gunny put the kibosh on it. At least for this stage of the game.”

  Flaming fish balls. Were they going freaking Hollywood on her? “So what does this stage of the game entail?”

  “Santiago had an idea. On an earlier look-see she noticed Porter didn’t close her blinds all the way. There’s a building across the courtyard and she figured they can get on
the roof and see into her apartment. She and Gunny went back with cameras.

  Buck opened the oven and a heavenly aroma escaped. “What is that and when will it be ready to eat?”

  “Meat loaf,” Buck said. “Got another hour.”

  “Ma’am?” Cooper said. “What was the blowback from Bristol on that stunt . . . ehhh, I mean whatever you did there this morning? We saw him in the chow hall and those goons doing a bump and run.”

  “He was pissed but nothing else. The steroid triplets, who knows?”

  Buck snorted. “Good name.”

  “Forget me, did you get anything?”

  Cooper’s face split with a huge grin. “Did I ever. They’re arrogant, boss. They’ve only got reverse medium protection. Anyone—”

  “Like us,” Buck interrupted. He moved past them into the dining room.

  “Us?” Honey said sardonically. “You’re a computer wizard now?” she said to the big man.

  Buck looked at her and scrunched up his face. “I’d say apprentice. The boy genius here has been learnin’ me.”

  “The thought of you two loose on the Internet is disturbing.” She turned back to Coop. “Sorry, what were you saying about reverse protection?”

  “I had to be very careful and take the long way around but . . .” Coop said.

  “Give me the bottom line, boy genius.”

  “Bottom line, we’re in. Discovered they have access to government sites around the world. Don’t know why.”

  “I do.” Honey nodded. “They have a deal with those agencies to pay anywhere from twenty-five to fifty grand to surf their personal files for possible employees. If they harvest any, the departments are paid a flat ten grand.”

  “Sweet deal,” Buck said.

  “Yeah. I was in that center all afternoon and it is a sweet deal. The whole damn place is a sweet deal. The kill house this morning was one of the best I’ve seen. My word for what I’ve seen is impressive. First class. Their contract fees are in the stratosphere. Difficult to understand why they’d get involved in any kind of illegal activities.”

  “You think they’re clean?” Buck said.

  “No. I don’t think they’re selling arms.” Bristol’s attitude, the vibe between Porter and Mac, even the intimidation attempt by Bear and his buddies added up to something. It was like standing in a pile of manure in a dark room. You can smell it, feel it, but you can’t identify what species it comes from. “If they are, say, sharing technology, will you be able to find how they’re doing it? If you don’t have enough here I can get you better access if—”

  The front door opened. The warning light on the alarm system flashed. Santiago and Gunny would come in the side or through the garage. Coop and Buck stepped back. Honey checked the security camera display but the person coming in was already out of view. She partially opened a drawer holding a gun. The door closed and the flashing red light returned to a solid green.

  “Yoo-hoo. Auntie. Are you home?”

  Fuuuck. As if things weren’t complicated enough. Honey shoved the drawer closed and moved to see Kara hurrying down the hall, shopping bags in hand. Her dark ponytail was bobbing, the hem of her sundress was swishing around her legs, sandals clicked on the hardwood floor and there was something in her expression Honey didn’t like.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Kara dropped her bags and threw her arms around Honey’s neck. They gave each other a good hug until Kara pulled back. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I know I should have but something happened and . . .” She stopped and looked at the two Marines.

  “What happened?” Honey said calmly. Kara slowly turned back. “What happened?” she repeated, guiding her niece to a kitchen chair.

  “Okay,” Kara said. She didn’t sit but took a deep breath. “It’s the . . .” Her eyes drifted to Coop and Buck again. “Lizard brain early warning thing you told me to pay attention to.” She twisted and jangled her keys. Honey took the keys with one hand and with the other slid Kara’s purse strap from her shoulder and put the items on the table. Kara leaned to her but kept her eyes on the men. “Auntie, what are Thor and Captain America doing here?” she said in a loud whisper. In her peripheral vision, Honey saw the corner of Coop’s mouth quirk up.

  “Kara. Look at me.” Her niece’s cocker spaniel eyes met hers. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I met this guy at an event a couple of weekends ago. We exchanged numbers, we texted a few times. He asked me out. I agreed to meet him for lunch today.” She paused as if she was waiting for Honey to say something, and when she didn’t, Kara went on. “At a place of my choice. Like you taught me.” She added quickly.

  “And?” Honey gritted her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling. Her mind went into warp drive. If Bristol, or anyone, made a run at her family . . .

  “He started asking questions about my family. My mother’s family.”

  Coop faded into the dining room. An avalanche of emotion swamped Honey, none of it good. “Give me his name.” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

  “Mike Coogan.”

  “Got it,” Coop said. Honey imagined his fingers flying over the keyboard.

  “There’s more. He works for SecretsdotGov.”

  Fucking flaming fish balls. Secrets was an underground Internet paper dedicated to conspiracy theories. Buck passed them heading to the hall. Honey readjusted her train of thought. Not Bristol, a media snoop. Manageable. “Do you think he followed you?” Honey asked as Buck’s heavy footfalls echoed on the stairs.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I went into a couple of shops and called for a car to pick me up at a metro stop in the opposite direction from here.”

  “Good.”

  “Nothing here,” Buck called confidently.

  “Ditto,” Coop said, just as confident.

  Kara’s expression was a big question mark.

  Honey smiled, feeling some relief. “Captain America and Thor are checking surveillance camera feeds and what the cameras don’t cover.”

  “What made you uneasy about the questions?” Coop asked from the door.

  “Really?” Kara snapped back, giving him a deadly glare. “When you go out with a woman for the first time, do you ask questions about her family?”

  “Point taken.” Coop came toward them with a small device in his hand. “I’m going to check you for a bug. Stand up.”

  Kara stood. Coop passed the device close to her body and she appeared to enjoy what he was doing as much as he enjoyed the doing. “Clear,” he said after also passing it over the items on the table and shopping bags.

  “Where do I get one of those?” Buck said, sounding amused watching what was going on.

  “I’m going to get a quick shower,” Honey said. “Then I’ll take you home.”

  Kara sucked in her lower lip and dropped into the chair.

  “I . . . I was hoping to stay here tonight.” She glanced at her bags. “I bought some things.”

  Honey said nothing.

  “Mama and I had a big fight. It was kinda the reason I went to lunch with Mike . . . Rebellion.”

  Honey was very familiar with Theresa and rebellion. The fact she and Kara were so much alike irritated Theresa no end. That fact caused her heart to twang.

  “Rebellion against what?”

  “Mama wants me to get serious about finding the right man.”

  “So you went out and had lunch with the wrong man.”

  “Mmmm.” She nodded and gave Honey a sly smile.

  “All right. I’ll call her and let her know you’re here.” Honey rubbed her temples. She was surely going to be blamed for Kara’s lack of proper behavior.

  “You two.” She pointed to Kara. “She goes nowhere and makes no calls.” The duo nodded.

  Honey poured three fingers of whiskey into a highball glass and trudged up to her bedroom. She stripped down to her bra and panties, and halfway through the smoky liquid she dropped into an overstuffed chair and called Theresa. Her sister answere
d on the third ring and listened quietly as Honey related Kara’s lunch date story, touched on the disagreement between them, and said Kara was staying for a couple of days. Yadda, yadda, yadda, and then she went quiet waiting for the official ass chewing. That didn’t come. Theresa was, understanding, glad Kara would be spending time with her. She asked her to pass on an apology to Kara and even suggested the two of them get together for a sisters lunch. They ended the call and Honey finished the whiskey. She couldn’t remember Theresa ever apologizing for anything. There must be a rare planetary alignment occurring because this day couldn’t be any stranger. And she still had to figure out what to do with Kara.

  Honey returned to the kitchen to find Kara helping Buck put the finishing touches on dinner. Kara was chattering away, Buck nodding and grunting.

  “Did you call Mama?”

  “Hmmm. She said to tell you she was sorry.”

  Kara stopped, salad bowl in hand. “My mama said that?”

  “That and more. Maybe she’s chilling.”

  “Doubt that.” She put the bowl on the table next to the meat loaf and made-from-scratch mac and cheese. Coop and Buck sat as Santiago and Andrews came in. Or maybe since they were going Hollywood, she should call them Black Widow and Hawkeye.

  “Wait until you see what we’ve—” Gloria hauled up short when she saw Kara and Andrews ploughed into her.

  “What the . . .” Andrews grabbed Gloria to keep her from falling.

  Honey blew out a long breath. “Family. No choice. If she mucks things up”—she looked at Kara—“you can kill her.”

  “They do and you’ll have to answer to Mama,” Kara snapped back. When Honey didn’t say anything, she went on. “I thought so. No matter what it is you guys are up to, nothing is as bad as dealing with Mama.” She paused, looking at each of them dramatically. “Whatever it is, you can trust me not to say a thing.”

  “Okay, kid, but if you do talk it’s sleeping with the fishes for you,” Gunny said.

  Kara whirled on him, backing him against the glass doors of the Sub-Zero fridge. “I speak five languages. I have a degree in political science. I sit on the board of two foundations. I am not a kid. I am not a fool. Nor do I suffer them. Don’t you”—she looked at Honey—“or any of you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”