Coda? (Mercenaries Book 4)

by Tony Lavely

  “I can’t argue that. I just hope Lisa can come to grips with it.”

  “With what?”

  Beckie took a minute to describe the meeting between the Grove sisters and the man Beckie called Five. “First name Raptor, if you don’t like Eric.”

  Amy slid closer; her knee touched Beckie’s thigh. “I learned a lot about handling groups today, but not so much about why you thought having Lisa there was a good idea.”

  Beckie smirked as she caressed Amy’s bare leg. “You missing Dylan already? And why are you here, anyway? I’m certain that Beth could have carried the ‘Protect Lisa’ standard.”

  The girl was blushing by the time Beckie looked away from Beth’s guffaw, but she recovered quickly. “See, you’re doing it again! Misdirecting, not answering.” She slid even closer. “Yes, I am missing Dylan. What’cha gonna do about it, sailor?” in a voice that started squeaky, little girlish and ended low and inviting.

  Beckie couldn’t help herself; she fell into Amy’s lap laughing. As her face crushed itself against Amy’s leg, she allowed her mind to wander into the orange orchard of the girl’s flavored body wash. In a moment, however, Beth’s laughter forced Beckie to push herself up into a sitting position. More decorous, at least.

  “I’m going to send you back to him, is what I’m going to do. With a note to make sure he keeps his strength up!”

  Amy laughed back and slid herself out of contact. “Okay. But I’m serious. Explain to us why that was a good idea.”

  “Okay. Except I’m not sure where you heard that I thought it was a good idea? It was what worked at the time.”

  “Why not send her away from the hotel?”

  “Send her where? You had sense enough to stay here, where if the thing literally blew up, you’d be around to help Maurice, and Freddie and Barbara keep the team going, if that’s what you all decided to do. We’d already sent her to Oakland, remember? And that’s the discussion you three need to have: disregarding your instructions is something you have to stomp on… while protecting the rich independent entrepreneurial spirit that allowed her to do it.” She leaned forward to lay her hand on Amy’s leg and fixed first her and then Beth with a baleful scowl. “We won’t wash her out for this one, but let her know she’s used up a lot of attaboys with you.”

  “But not with you?”

  “No, not with me. You told her to go to Oakland, I didn’t. But that won’t help her next time. Don’t bring me into it; it’s between you guys. And next time, don’t let it go so long before you bring it up. Reinforcement, positive or negative, is best when it’s close to the event.”

  “Okay,” Amy said. “Thanks for that.”

  “She did it again,” Beth said.

  “I know.” Amy buried her face in her hands. “I give up.” She raised her head again. “We disagree with you, but I’m too tired to press you any more. Think about it, please. C’mon, Beth, I’ll buy you a beer. No, wait. You… You with the ‘Protect Lisa’ flag. Speak up!”

  Beckie gave the two her best what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about glare, but Beth didn’t seem all that flustered. I guess she’s been waiting for a chance, huh?

  With a twisted half-smile, Beth said, “You really don’t like armor, I guess.”

  What! What’s this— Oh, fuuuck! She slid off the sofa to kneel on the floor, face in her hands. I forgot… Lisa… she’d have been…

  Beth and Amy were both lifting her, dropping her back on the sofa. She couldn’t speak; Beth’s words made only a glancing impact.

  “Don’t worry, the gunshot would have gone through the armhole. But the knife…”

  Beckie raised her head. “Why bring this up now? Not before?”

  Beth’s expression was even more serious. “My question wasn’t for Lisa’s family to hear.”

  “Your question?” Gotta be something I don’t want—

  “I need to be sure there isn’t even a hint that you don’t want Lisa around. I mean, even you were wearing armor. According to Elena, she was the only one… Well, Sam’s shirt and that… well, she called it a bathing suit, but…”

  Beckie stopped listening. She thinks I want Lisa dead? I can’t even… How do I answer that? Stupid mistakes get people killed; you know that, girl! So, is there any… any truth to Beth’s claim? She dropped her head into her hands again, thinking furiously. No! It was stupid, and unforgivable, but… I don’t want to lose her.

  She raised her head again. “There’s an old saying that seems apropos, at least to me. ‘Never attribute to malice a thing adequately explained by stupidity.’ Mine, in this case. Hanlon’s Razor, I think,” she said to Amy’s confused look. “I fucked up, pure and simple. Millie made me wear armor for the baby. Lisa’s not pregnant; we were keeping her out of the action; I never even thought about it.” She rose and grabbed both Beth and Amy’s hands. “Believe me, if I didn’t want her around, I wouldn’t have just invited her into the team.”

  “That’s what Mom told us, too,” Amy said. “But she also demanded we bring it up to you, to hear it from you.”

  Thank you Millie! “I don’t know what else to say that isn’t a repeat. I wish Sam or someone had noticed… but everyone had deployed by then. It was on me, and… And I screwed up.” She dropped the others’ hands and paced to the rail, looking out over the water. “I’ll talk to Lisa tomorrow morning, believe me. I think you could also be there…”

  “Let us know,” Amy said as she stood. “We’ll be there. Com’on, Beth. Time for that beer.”

  Beckie sat alone on the lanai until Boynton came by and shooed her off to bed. All the thoughts that flitted through her head seemed to be repeats; nothing new or enlightening. Amy’s concern was justified, she supposed, even if Beth’s wasn’t, so much. Except for pointing out her failure. I screwed up protecting the team and it had certainly cost Lisa, terribly. But…

  There was no good answer to Amy’s question. Would Eric have realized his heart’s desire if he hadn’t faced Lisa? Would the leader have gotten away? Beckie wasn’t sure she could have caught him, especially when she didn’t know until later he was the leader. Should she have yanked Beth out of the Nest to help?

  It’s all water under the bridge now, she assured herself as she pulled a sleepshirt on and fell into bed. Sleep wasn’t quite so easy to call forth. How did Ian deal? ran through her mind. The answering thought—maybe he hadn’t made stupid mistakes—wasn’t much comfort.

  The next day, Eric and Wendy, both glowing, spent the morning with Lisa, and the early afternoon with her parents. Eric then took his plane back to Washington, and the air taxi arrived to begin Wendy and Megan’s trip back to school. After Beckie’s visit with Lisa, Amy took that same taxi on her way back to Dylan and Columbia.

  The day after that, Rou called. “I have an email here; a payment against the Rose Greek contract.”

  “Huh? I thought we were settled with them? Our fee and the penalty were paid and the extra two hundred thousand euros.”

  “The email authorizes an additional lump sum payment for those injured in the, and I quote, ‘recent action in San Diego in support of…’ but then it’s blank, as if they don’t want us to know.”

  “Believe me, Rou, they don’t. How much is it?”

  “Another two hundred thousand euros.”

  “That will cover Rich’s armor and Lisa’s recuperation… well, the physical one, anyway.” She glanced at Boynton, holding a cup of coffee for her. “Decaf?” He nodded and she sipped, then said to the phone, “Well, pay off Millie’s bills and transfer the rest to the contract profit account. We’ll distribute it as usual. We’ll vote on it, but plan for Lisa to get a full share.” They finished the call.

  “I trust the coffee suits?”

  “Of course, thanks. I think that takes care of the Rose Creek contract. I wonder if Ian or Kevin were working on anything else we need to figure out.”

  “It will be an adventure, I am certain.”

  Departures

  BECKIE INTERVIEWED
LISA’S FATHER FOR an oversight position in Rou’s group, to fill the gap left by Kerry’s contretemps, and sent him off for additional vetting. By the time they had finished, he’d accepted the position, although the family would move to Miami after Lisa’s graduation—Beckie had recommended her for admittance to Miami, and had been pleased at her acceptance, even after the absence caused by her recovery.

  Barely three weeks after the Rose Creek headlines had faded, everyone who interacted with Beckie on a routine basis knew she was pregnant; most of the others did, as well, through the gossip network at the Nest. Even she admitted, standing before her mirror after her shower, that her breasts were enlarged—what I might have given for that, earlier!—along with her lower abdomen. She talked to her mother, but decided not to invite her to the Nest. Not yet, anyway. I’ll see how it goes.

  On November 18, planning for Sue to be back for Thanksgiving, Millie took Patrice’s flight to Turkey; it was her turn in the barrel, as she said with a touch of gallows humor. Amy planned to spend the holiday with Dylan in Chatham.

  Shortly after the plane departed, Sam called Beckie. “Understand from Jannike that Patrice is bringing the supply run over?”

  “He is. Should be almost there. Everything okay there?”

  “Well as can be expected, I suppose. Sue will be coming back—”

  “What’s the problem, Sam?”

  “You know me too well, Mrs. Jamse.”

  “Beckie, remember?”

  “You may not be so happy when I’m done. Jimmy’s decided he’ll seek his fortune elsewhere.”

  Beckie couldn’t speak for a second. Then, “Damn. I never wanted to lose any of your team, but Jimmy’s maybe the last one.”

  “I know. He said he’d talk to you when he got there. All things considered, I wouldn’t expect to change his mind.”

  “Yeah. I surely wouldn’t want to twist his arm, then depend on him to have my back. Or yours.”

  “You got it.” She heard voices in the background. “Gotta go. Close to time to go meet the plane.”

  “Be safe, Sam. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Not too soon, I hope!”

  “No, Millie and Shalin have me on a short leash since San Diego.”

  “I hope so! By the way, how’s the girl? Lisa?”

  “Healing nicely, and getting her school work done. Or so they tell me. Keep in touch, hear?”

  When the plane returned from Turkey, Beckie was waiting at the hangar door. Jannike teased her: “You know you can’t get on a plane without an escort, right?”

  Beckie smiled, though she feared it was more of grimace. “Yeah. Something about safety…” She patted her increasingly obvious baby bump. “I’m okay with it, mostly anyway.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and chuckled. “Today’s not the day I’m going to try and sneak by you or anyone. Expected to meet… Jimmy Wolf, and there he is.”

  Jannike patted her shoulder. “Good. I’ll be off, then, collecting passports and the like.” She trotted to the foot of the mobile stairway where the passengers were deplaning.

  Next to last, Jimmy sauntered into the sunlight. He shaded his eyes with his hand and surveyed the field. At the foot of the stairs, he handed Janni his paperwork. Beckie couldn’t see her expression, but it was met by a grin. He followed Janni’s pointed direction and waved to Beckie.

  “Mrs. Jamse,” he said as they met a few yards from the building. “How are you? Nice of you to come meet me. I expected Willie or Lena, but not the boss herself.”

  “My job. Sam said you were gonna talk to me. Let’s go over to the house.”

  In half an hour, Beckie dropped into one of the chairs on the lanai, having sent Jimmy off with Boynton to freshen up, and choose whatever light snack and beverage he might prefer. She wondered why Jimmy wanted out; Sam had been pretty clear about his possibilities for advancement, and Beckie knew she’d shown no inclination to reduce the conflict laden jobs that Sam and she assumed Jimmy preferred. Oh, well, I’ll know soon. As long as he’s honest.

  “I can’t get him to stop serving me, Mrs. Jamse.” Jimmy came through the slider, followed by Boynton carrying a tray filled with roast beef sandwiches, horseradish on the side, and a glass of dark fluid. Chips surrounded the sandwiches.

  Beckie’s grin accompanied her chuckle. “You’re not alone. Don’t worry, Maurice does what he believes is his job. I’ve tried to stop him; it doesn’t work. Evidence here.” She waved at the tray Boynton was straightening in front of Jimmy.

  “I guess. Thanks, Boynton. Tell me, Mrs. Jamse, why do you have Guinness here?”

  “Because I have guests who enjoy it.”

  “Not you?”

  “Not particularly. I’m more partial to white wine, chardonnays. And now…” She patted the baby. “… all the research indicates it’s better to abstain for the duration.” She sipped from the San Pellegrino Boynton had left her. “But now, relax and enjoy his efforts. And the cookies. If you don’t eat them, I will, and my doctor will be upset!”

  When he’d finished and wiped his mouth most politely, Beckie asked Boynton for a refill of her sparkling water, then said, “Okay, Jimmy, what seems better as a future to you?”

  He finished the beer and waved off Boynton’s offer of another. “Well, Mrs. Jamse, first, thanks. I didn’t expect this, for sure.”

  She laughed. “That’s just to keep you from passing out. I’ve ridden that flight. Boooring!”

  His mouth curved up and his eyes flashed. “It is every bit of that. So first, nothing Sam did, or you. And I hope—”

  “No matter what you say, Jimmy, you’re not gonna burn any bridges.”

  “Well, thanks. No, I was just gonna say I hope you won’t try to convince me not to go…”

  Is that because he’s not all that certain? Not sure I understand… maybe I oughta listen some more then!

  “My mind’s set.” He paused, and Beckie waited. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “It’s my dad. He’s in poor health… his heart, you know.”

  But that’s not enough by itself.

  “For a while now, I’ve been thinking about going back to help with the farm. Now, with Dad… failing, I guess I have to admit, I think that’s what I should do.”

  “When did he turn for the worse?”

  “While Sam was working with you last month. Wasn’t gonna clear off on him while he’s away, you know.”

  “I believe that. Well, I guess you’ve thought about this a lot…” He nodded vigorously. “… and I’m hardly one to say you shouldn’t do what you think’s best for your family. So.

  “So, thanks for your work. If things don’t work out quite like you expect, we’ll probably still be here. And if I recall my uncle, growing wheat in Minnesota, farming takes its toll. You’ll be welcome to vacation here when you need to.” She sipped her drink. “Now, Rou, Mrs. Go is your next stop, to get signed out and arrange things going forward. You should be able to debrief and all and still get home before Thanksgiving.”

  She stood, and so did he. They shook hands.

  “Thanks again, Mrs. Jamse. I appreciate… well, everything. Mrs. Go’s office is still in the Admin building, right?” He pointed toward Bon Secours Cay.

  “I’ll walk to the dock with you, but, yeah, that’s the place.”

  “Well, not the way I wanted Tuesday to end, Maurice,” she said as she pulled one of the kitchen stools out and sat.

  “I hope he is prepared. Farming is even harder than soldiering, I fear.”

  “He’s not one to shirk hard work, though. I would have put him in charge of the next team, based on Sam’s recommendation.” She took one of the white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies that Jimmy hadn’t taken.

  “No more,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “And Ms Rios would like a few minutes either tonight or tomorrow morning. Nothing life or death, she said.”

  “Ask her to come by in the morning, then. I’m going to grab a shower, then review Ian’s notes on that job they
won’t tell us where it is.”

  “Preparing early? You do not fear… peaking too soon, Mistress Rebecca?”

  “I do not, Maurice. We’ll begin the review with Amy next week on Skype. And remind Willie he has til Monday without a ten o’clock. Unless something comes up, at least.” She gave him a wry smile. “When will you start with Madame?”

  In her room, she noticed Trillian’s tail twitching on the balcony; when she peered out, the ocelot was stretched out on one of the loungers, lazily grooming a paw. Beckie approached slowly and the cat turned her yellow eyes on her before allowing Beckie to scratch behind her head. The scratching became sitting beside on the lounger; Beckie began stroking Trillian’s back.

  Before her purring became too loud to hear over, Beckie said, “Nope, not gonna fight him about family. If it’s too hard… well, I don’t think it will be. But it hurts to lose him.” She leaned back without pushing the cat aside. “It hurts to lose anyone, Trill,” she whispered. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  Trillian rolled to her feet, and flowed off the lounger. She leapt to the railing, then to a palm about four feet from the house, and glided away.

  The next morning, Beckie showered and smoothed lotion on her skin following her morning run. That’s one promise I regret, she’d thought the first time she’d finished the five miles, three times around Home Cay. But she’d kept it up.

  In the kitchen, Boynton handed her a cup of coffee and pointed to the fresh fruit and grilled fish he’d prepared.

  “Where’s yours?”

  He patted his belly. “I’ve been up a while already. We will host tomorrow’s dinner, so I’ve been getting things prepared.” He indicated the window. “I believe Ms Rios approaches.”

  “Invite her in. Maybe she’ll want something to eat.”

  In a couple of minutes, Elena was sipping coffee, but she said she’d already had enough breakfast.

  Beckie hurried through hers, then led the other woman to the lanai, where she allowed Elena to choose a seat at the table.