by Judith Lucci
Alex nodded, “Yes, she does. You know how Adam can be,” she added with a laugh. “Even at his advanced age, he’s a free spirit and pretty wild.”
“Where are they from? They look like Indians,” Stoner mused as he watched Digger converse with an older gentleman by the clock. For some reason, Digger seemed familiar to Stoner, but he couldn’t place him.
“He and his wife are native American Indians. Part of the Chickahominy tribe from Virginia. I think they came from King William County, but I’m not sure. I know Digger is full-blooded and I think Mary, his wife, is as well. I’ve have heard rumors that Digger has plenty of money and that he chooses to live differently. All that being said, he's an incredibly computer-savvy guy. A real genius. He’s an information security consultant when he wants to be. He has four or five computers he runs off of a generator, as well as his own server and other high tech stuff I know nothing about. He’s an electronics expert and, reportedly, a great hacker. I’ve heard it rumored that he peruses the dark web regularly and knows a great deal about information security.”
Stoner feasted on this information. He decided to engage Digger further in conversation. He now remembered him from a few years back. He did work for The Agency in information security.
Monique smiled happily as she re-pinned an errant tendril that had escaped from her fancy up-do. “This is a pretty amazing party and this place is pretty wild. First there’s ghosts and now Indians. What else are we in store for?”
“New Orleans is weird and you’ll never convince me otherwise,” Alex laughed. “You just wait! I’ve got a lot more in store for you. By the time you leave, you’ll know all of our secrets, good and bad,” She added.
“I can’t wait. You mean there’s really more?” Monique’s interest was piqued.
Alex nodded as Robert interrupted, “Digger is an anachronism except for his computer expertise. I remember meeting him years ago, but I didn’t know he was a computer whiz.” “I could learn a lot from him," Robert mused.
Alex nodded again in agreement. "Yeah, we all could. We could also learn from his wife. She's an herbalist and local medicine woman who is known to have incredible healing powers according to the locals. People rave about her ‘potions’. But I have to tell you, that they’re both the salt of the earth. He comes over and checks on my grandmother whenever Adam is in D.C. Grand knows she can call Digger if she ever needs anything. And besides, he can fix anything -- from farm machinery to horse tack to a broken can opener. He’s a jack of all trades. When I was little, he taught me how to track game and fowl in the woods. He also taught me to carve wood and skip rocks off the river,” she added proudly.
“I’m impressed,” Stoner added, “We could skip some rocks if the river wasn’t frozen,” he added wistfully. “I’m a champion rock-skipper myself.”
“Next time,” Alex promised, “but I’ll have to practice. I haven’t skipped rocks for years. Digger taught me that it’s all about a little twist in the wrist, which I’ll have to work on.”
“I met his wife a day or so before the wedding. I don’t see her now, thought" Robert said, scanning the crowd.
"I doubt she's here yet. She doesn’t like large groups. She always comes after the dancing has started, and hands out her herbal headache remedy when people leave," Alex assured everyone. “She’s kind of a solitary person,” Alex explained.
"Man, I needed her last night," Stoner admitted and looked at Jack. “So did you, Commander, right?” Stoner laughed as he clapped Jack on the back.
"Nah, I was fine," Jack insisted, giving Monique a sideways glance, "Right, honey?"
Robert and Stoner snorted with laughter and Alex stared at him. "Not sure I buy that, Jack. You were having a great time."
"Yeah, I was. It was my wedding,” Jack said, his voice defensive. “Who'd have ever thought I would get married? I still can't believe it myself." He turned and put his arm around his wife. "Monique, do you think I was loaded," he asked.
Monique rolled her dark eyes and said, "No question, you were blitzed, toasted, sauced ... all of those words. Do you even remember the end of the evening?"
Jack hugged her tightly. "Yes, my beautiful wife, I remember everything, and I still can't believe you married an ugly old guy like me!"
"Me neither, but I did and I’m still happy about it and we’re 18 hours into our marriage." Monique beamed as she kissed Jack on the cheek.
“Nevertheless, you were inebriated. Give it up, Jack, you're busted," Stoner said as he scanned the crowd with the experienced eye of a law enforcement agent. "You know, I think just having a crowd like this together is pretty amazing,” he added. “Just look at the cross-section of people here. You have the very rich and the dirt poor, as well as a whole bunch of ‘new’ Americans who’ve immigrated here, and everyone is getting along well.”
"Yes,” Alex agreed. “From my grandparents’ perspective, these are the people that put my grandfather in office and made him who he is in Washington. And they are honored that all of them come here twice a year, and at other times for that matter. Adam and Kathryn consider them their friends.”
Robert nodded and said, “Most everyone here would die for Kathryn and the Congressman.” Robert held up his empty glass and suggested, “Jack. Stoner. Let's make the trip to the pool house and have another drink. I’m empty, so bottoms up.”
Jack hesitated for an instant and Robert continued, “I’m giving you both a dancing lesson on the way, so you’ll need that drink. We’ll all be in the dancing tent in a few hours. And Jack, I don’t want you to embarrass the state of Louisiana. You would not believe how these people dance. It's a serious undertaking here at Wyndley.”
Jack grunted and looked at Monique. “Go Jack, you know you don’t need my permission,” Monique said. “I already know how to do the Virginia reel. We have to lead off, so you need to know what you are doing.”
“I’m ready for another," Stoner volunteered as he drained his glass. He turned to Alex and said, “I’ve heard Wyndley is a first-class horse farm. I would love a tour of the stables? I have friends in Middleburg who also raise horses and would love to hear about your farm.”
"Sure, I would love to show you, Travis. Alex was pleased. She loved to show off her Grand’s state of the art horse installation and breeding facility. She turned to the others and suggested, “Why don’t we grab some food and drink and then head down to the horse barn in about a half an hour. Monique, you can change your shoes while were gone because the dancing is a ton of fun without the killer heels.”
Monique smiled and looked grateful, “I’ll do just that.” She turned toward Jack and noticed the stubborn look on his face. “What’s the matter with you, Jack, don’t you want another drink,” she asked.
“Of course I do,” Jack answered. Then, turning to Alex, Jack whined, “But Alex, I really don’t want to walk another mile out there in the blizzard. I’ve already done that today. Why don’t you guys go and I’ll meet you back here for the dancing.”
“You go, Jack.” Monique insisted and glared at him. “The exercise will do you good, and besides, how many ham biscuits have you had?”
“A lot. More than I should, but I plan to have more. Love this Virginia ham,” Jack moaned as he reached for another ham biscuit from a passing waiter. “Damn, these things are good. I’ll meet you all at the back door by the monitoring station in about 30 minutes. Will that work?”
“Sure, I need to mingle for a little bit anyway," Alex nodded her head in agreement. "I see a bunch of my grandfather’s cronies from Congress over there in the corner. Stoner, would you and Robert like to come with me to greet them?”
“Of course,” Robert replied in an affable tone, but Stoner hesitated. The last thing he wanted to see when he was drinking Adam Lee’s famous Bloody Marys was a bunch of politicians, but he dutifully followed his hostess.
Chapter 19
Stark had to admit it. It was damn cold and the snow was relentless. He wanted this mission to be ov
er. All he could think of was a roaring fire, a tumbler of Jack Black, and his wife and daughter located a short, two hour drive away. He wanted to get the job done and get the hell out of there. He looked over at Yassar, who was bundled up beyond recognition, and said as he tried to hide the chattering of his teeth, "The place is filling up. Must be over 75 cars over there. Do you have everything ready on your end?”
“Of course I do,” the jihadist sneered. “I’ve been ready for over an hour while you’ve been sitting on your white American ass playing with your iPad.” The tone of Yassar’s voice irritated Stark, but he tolerated it because they were almost done. Still, he couldn’t control his negative thoughts. What the hell. I don’t care if Yassar dies a hero in the eyes of the jihadists. He stared into the angry, staring eyes of Yassar. "Move, Yassar, do another check, now," Stark demanded. Yassar continued to glare at him and moved slowly toward his weapons cache.
“Do you need any help figuring out the iPad,” Yassar smirked to Stark’s face. “I wouldn’t want you to screw up the entire day plus all the work I did last night.”
Stark said nothing, but gestured for Yassar to move on. “Get your stuff done. I’m leaving in five minutes with or without you. Now get the hell back there and do a final check.”
Yassar said nothing but returned to his fantasy about abducting Alex and killing a bunch more infidels. Perhaps I could take her with me, steal her from the tent at gunpoint. He stood silent and continued to weigh his options. What a prize she was. The leadership would love him for capturing the beautiful American woman. He’d be famous. And he’d heard that Congressman Lee had a red-headed granddaughter. He would be exalted among his peers and the leaders for capturing her
Yassar was so engrossed and enamored with his idea that he barely felt it when Stark jabbed a gun in his back and said in a cold voice, “Get moving, Yassar, you have four minutes, and I don’t think you want to be found here because if you don’t come with me, I’m going to call the Congressman’s security detail and tell them you are here.”
Yassar turned to face Stark and saw the AK47 pointed dead center at his heart. “Khanfar, you bastard,” Yassar snapped, the words burning his mouth as he uttered them. He knew Allah wouldn’t be pleased with profanity, but he spit the same words out again before he left the safety of the trees and went to make a final check of the tractor and metal shed. I will kill Stark and anyone else who gets in my way, he promised himself as he tramped through the fallen snow. He looked around. The snow was falling so quickly that he doubted anyone could see a hundred yards away.
Stark pulled his field glasses from his pack. This is quite a party, he thought to himself as he zeroed once again on the numerous vehicles piled into the field. There were limos, pickups, motorcycles, and sedans parked all over the farm. There were even a couple of snowmobiles pulled up beside the pool house. He wondered who the guys parking the cars were. And people were still coming. There must have been at least 200 people there already. He looked toward the dancing tent and again noticed the tall, beautiful, auburn-haired woman standing outside with three gentlemen. He recognized one of the men as Travis Stoner, a senior agent in charge of the Secret Service. Damn, I hope to hell I don’t cross paths with him. Stoner is good at what he does and I don’t want to cross him. In fact, Stoner was one of the few men alive who was as good at his job as Jacob Stark.
Yassar had returned and was staring at him. “What the hell, Stark? Are we leaving or not?” He cursed at him in Pushto, the language of half of Afghanistan. “Come on, Khanfar, I’m getting sick and tired of freezing my ass off out here waiting for your command.” Yassar’s voice was sarcastic and ugly, and matched the snarl on his face.
Stark held his temper and nodded. “Okay, let’s do it. Grab your gear and let’s get out of here.”
Yassar grabbed his stuff quickly and the two men left their hiding place, covered the area with the white canvas to match the snow, and scurried quickly through the woods, not looking back until they came to their rusted, blue pickup truck about three quarters of a mile from Wyndley Farm. The snow was blinding and the ice cut into their faces. Stark pulled his cap as far as he could over his face, wishing he had a ski mask.
The pickup was covered with over a foot of snow. One side of the truck had snow drifts over 4 feet. Yassar stood idle as Stark moved toward it. Stark grabbed a windshield scraper from the back of the truck, handed it to Yassar and said, “Clean the windows while I get this thing going and heated up for us.”
Yassar had had it. “Z u ba tha wagal yum, you traitorous bastard. You clean the windshield, I’ll start the truck. I am freezing and I’m sick of being out here. You work for me, as of now.”
Stark was fuming. He grabbed the man by the top of his jacket, shook him while simultaneously retrieving the windshield scraper from the ground, and repeated in a menacing voice, “I told to you to clean off the truck, and I mean it. Clean off the damn truck, NOW.” Stark knew he was short tempered, but he was sick of the jihadist prick and he was freezing cold, and he wanted to get the hell away from Wyndley Farm and out of Hanover County.
Yassar grabbed the snow scraper from Stark’s hand and took several steps toward the back of the truck, leaned over the bed, and grabbed a tire iron out of the pickup bed and swung it at Stark.
“You crazy ass bastard. You don’t want to do that,” Stark snarled at the crazed man. “I swear to you, Yassar, if you swing that thing at me one more time, I’ll kill you!”
Yassar laughed, swung the tire iron again, lost his balance on the ice, pivoted, and fell in the snow. Stark seized the opportunity and quickly jumped on him. He turned Yassar's neck sharply from left to right and watched the life drain from Yassar’s dark eyes as the vision of the jihadist shooting Seth in the back froze in his brain.
Stark had no idea how long he sat in the snow starting at the dead man. He was immobilized, both from cold and disgust. As he struggled to get up, he felt sick and loathed himself. Stark heaved Yassar’s body in to the bed of the pickup, covered it with a canvas tarp, cleaned the snow and ice off the truck as best he could, and drove across the North Anna River on to route 738 toward Partlow. At least the jihadist bastard won’t stink anytime soon. It’s too cold for that.
Stark turned the heater up to the highest setting and aimed the pickup toward the truck stop just off Interstate 95 at Carmel Church. He was cold all over and the sound of his chattering teeth unnerved him. He needed coffee and he needed it now.
Chapter 20
The party was in full swing. It was easy to see why Adam Patrick Lee was known as the ‘politician of and for the people’. Every walk of life was represented and treated with respect and dignity. Stoner continued to enjoy the party and the collection of people gathered under the Congressman’s roof. There were farmers, farm hands, migrant laborers, Washington’s finest, neighbors, church friends, a couple of famous writers, and several Hollywood A-Listers. It was rumored that Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux planned to attend with Justin’s mother, a writer who lived in nearby Ashland. Stoner admired Jennifer Aniston and scoped out the crowd for her.
The Congressman and Kathryn circulated and welcomed all of their guests. Stoner’s law enforcement training always directed his thoughts and actions as he looked into the eyes of many of the guests, particularly the guests he’d never expected to see at Wyndley Farm. The crowd was friendly and obviously having a great time. It’s amazing. Everyone here seems to love the Congressman. How unusual is that? But of course, the jihad do not.
A waiter caring a heavy tray of Bloody Marys held one out to Stoner and after a moment’s hesitation, he accepted. This is one great party. He would hang out a couple more minutes and meet the others at the back door to tour the horse barn. The cold would sober him up.
Stoner was jarred out of his thoughts as John Cole joined him, Bloody Mary in hand. He raised his glass in tribute as he looked into the tired but alert eyes of his old friend. His friend looked worried and anxious, depressed even.
> “John, hey man, Happy New Year. Was that the coldest night you’ve ever spent?”
John gave him a half smile. “Back ‘atcha and yeah, I’m not going to lie. There was no heat in the Treehouse and it was one of the coldest nights I’ve ever spent.”
“A couple of Bloody Marys will warm you right up. You’ll forget about your night in the tree,” Stoner promised, draining his glass. “This is my third, and I can speak from experience that you’ll forget all about last night.”
John grinned, but not with his eyes. “Stoner, have you seen Seth? I checked the back room, but the agent said he wasn’t around. I also checked the bunk room, but he wasn’t sleeping either.”
Stoner sobered immediately. “No. Haven't seen him since early this morning. What's up?" Stoner was instantly alert, the effects of the Bloody Marys gone. Are you concerned? Do you think something has happened to him?”
John shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know, Stoner, but I’m worried. We heard some noise in the woods early this morning and I asked Seth to run some visuals. He didn’t see anything out of order but decided to take a walk over to the creek side of the estate where we’d heard the noise. We never heard back from him. He never checked in with us again, nor has he checked in with anyone else.”
Stoner’s face went rigid and he was silent as he processed the information.
Cole continued, "We tried to communicate with him over and over but got nothing."
Stoner’s face was a mask. He shook his head. “That’s not like Seth. He’s a top-notch agent. Are you sure he’s not somewhere around the estate, maybe partying?”
“I hope to hell he’s somewhere partying,” John uttered hopefully. “It beats the alternative. I'm on my way to talk to the agents on duty again and wake up the others to look around for him. To tell the truth, Stoner, I’m worried. Seth is one of my best men and it’s not like him to not check in.” John’s deep voice reflected his concern, and his face was etched with worry.