For a short time, drink clouded Thomas’ pain, but he’d seen that vice close up in Ireland as a young lad. He overcame the pull of alcohol after only seven days drunk thanks to a slip on the deck of the Four-Leaf Clover and a plunge into the icy Atlantic. The water sobered him up for good, but even so, his heart still ached and his mind flashed with pictures of his family on slabs in the morgue. Even the idea of sleep defeated him.
One morning, as Thomas dozed in a cocoon bag on a spot between the wheelhouse and the bow of his grandpa’s lobster boat, an odd splash near the stern woke him. That’s no fish, thought Thomas. He popped out of his sleeping bag, grabbed an ice axe and made his way aft, to the back of the small boat. The splash repeated itself. Thomas poked his head over the edge of the gunwale and something that was no more than a flash grabbed his neck and pulled him into the icy water. When Thomas surfaced, Billy stood laughing on the deck.
“Looks like I didn’t train you so well, Tommie-boy,” said Billy as he pointed the blunt end of a long hook at Thomas. It was the sort used to stab large fish caught by accident in the lobster trap lines, and Thomas grabbed it to haul himself back out of the water.
Despite himself, Thomas laughed for the first time in weeks. Billy went into a training stance that they had practiced together for years in Thomas’ youth and being exposed to Billy’s concentration snapped Thomas out of his grief. He could see light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in weeks.
After an hour of strenuous training, Billy turned to Thomas.
“I did some sniffing around. Your grandpa got in with the wrong people. Someone tempted him with the promise of riches for carrying coke in his lobster boat. He might have been fine but then he tried to use his old IRA connections as protection against those cartel guys. His friends were no match for today’s gangsters. They murdered your family in retaliation for your grandpa’s stupidity in trying to skim some profits off the Columbians.”
“I knew as much, but not all the detail. There was a letter. It’s left me pretty fucked up. I wanna do something.”
“You have to move on from this Thomas. Dig two graves if you seek revenge,” said Billy, sensing Thomas’ frame of mind.
“I heard that before but I never got it,” replied Thomas.
“Dig a grave for your enemy and one for yourself too,” said Billy who added: “Pay back by doing some good with your skills instead. One more thing, get in touch with Jean Pierre. He always gets your spirits up.”
“I dunno. Just haven’t been up to it recently-”
“Gotta break the cycle here, buddy,” said Billy. He suddenly produced a cell phone and waved it around.
“Don’t those things cost a fortune?”
“The prices’re coming down quite a bit. Besides, I need it for work.”
Billy pressed a few buttons. The phone connected to someone and he spoke briefly. He smiled.
“Here he is,” he said, handing the phone to Thomas.
“What’re you up to, Billy?”
“Just take it.”
Thomas took the phone from Billy.
“Who is this?”
“You dirt ball. Who’d you expect? Suzelle?”
“Lanky?”
“None other. What’s this ’bout you moping around on that boat when I’m sitting in my apartment all by myself in Boston. When ’m I gonna see ya here, buddy?”
“I didn’t wanna bug ya, Lanky.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, man?”
“Just hit a rough patch, that’s all.”
“Sounds like you need to get laid, as usual. Get your ass down here. Get out of the boonies and we’ll see what we can do about that.”
“I dunno, Lanky.”
“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” He laughed. “Besides I gotta show you my new lab. You know they named a lab after me. Come and watch me in action, man.”
“I’ll think about it, Lanky.” Thomas didn’t sound too enthusiastic.
“You’ll do more than fucking think about it Thomas. You’ll get your ass down here this weekend and that’s final.”
Billy was nodding his agreement when Thomas gave him back the phone. “Thanks Billy. Dug myself a deep hole here. Didn’t know how to get out of it, I guess.”
“That’s what friends are for. Pack your shit. We’re heading down to Boston. Let’s go.”
Billy didn’t give Thomas a chance to refuse. He stood up and started throwing Thomas’ dirty cloths into a duffle bag. Thomas still didn’t move. “They’re gone, Billy.”
“I know, buddy.” His tone was more gentle than usual. “Think about it this way. Your ma, well, she took action when things got tough. She never stewed in it. That’s what got you here. She had balls, man and she’d want you to have balls too. You won’t bring ’em back looking down a bottle. Whoa. These are pretty rank. I think we'll leave ’em behind.” Billy grimaced as he picked up a pair of jeans covered with puke.
“Let's get out of here, Billy. I’ll tie her up on Willard’s dock and leave the key in the usual place. Willard’ll figure it out and put her back here on anchor. I can pick up some clothes in Boston.”
“I’d say Willard’s good for that, but leave him a note just in case,” said Billy as he pushed the starter button while adjusting the choke.
The old lobster boat’s motor chugged to life with a long puff of black smoke and Thomas came up beside his friend to look out on the harbor as they moved the boat into the dock at an old friend’s bait and tackle shop.
“Look at that. It’s one of those Maine Osprey you wrote about,” said Thomas.
“Thanks to you, I wrote about those birds and got on my feet again after ‘Nam’. You showed me how to use that camera to get real clean shots.”
“Thanks Billy. I was digging a hole I couldn’t dig myself outta.”
“That’s what you said. But it’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
They left the lobster boat tied up at Willard’s dock and Thomas left a note giving the boat to the old man who owned the bait shop.
“That’s more like the Thomas I know.”
“He always talked about wanting a lobster boat and I’m never going to be here to take care of it anyway.”
Billy’s pickup was parked in the harbor loading area. They walked over to it and Thomas threw his duffel bag into the back. Billy understood when Thomas didn’t say much on the first part of the drive into Boston. He remembered his own time after getting out of the army. Sometimes he’d needed space too. A little while later, Thomas turned around when they passed a highway sign pointing out Belfast, Maine.
“Jesus Billy, that takes me back some.”
“What’s that?”
“When we came here from the old country, I was just a kid. I remember seeing the signs for Belfast when we drove up here from Boston. It made me feel welcome here. You know I loved it here right from the first day. So much space. I remember looking out the back of my grandpa’s friend’s station wagon, you know, one of those ones with the fake wood panels on the side. Anyway, I loved the big cars almost as much as I loved the open spaces on the Atlantic. We left the ‘troubles’ behind that day. I even forgot some of the pain about my da’s death that day on the drive.”
“You sure had your share of the bad luck lottery, Thomas. But you always bounced back. Just like you’re going to this time.”
“Ya, maybe.”
“That’s the whiskey talking, boy, not you. Let’s get some food in your gut. How long since you had anything solid to eat?”
“It’s been nothing but liquid lunch for a while now, Billy.”
They pulled off the Maine Turnpike just after crossing over York River and headed for Route One.
“I’m sure I remember a diner along this truck route somewhere near here,” Billy said. Sure enough, just outside Kittery they came up to a diner in an old silver Airstream that’d been enlarged to include a porch with six tables. The kitchen took over the whole of the trailer part. Inside th
e smell of bacon crisping and fresh coffee assaulted Thomas’ senses and brought back memories of his first year in America. I always loved bacon and eggs. We never had that bacon without rind on it in Ireland. Funny how everything from that first year is rushing back today. Must be ’cause I’m starting fresh. Jesus. I don’t know what I’d’ve done without Billy.
“What’ll it be, boys?” said a friendly woman from behind her cooking counter. She was in her fifties and had a motherly look.
“That special with bacon, three eggs over easy and toast sounds like just what the doctor ordered, Ma’am,” Thomas said with an enthusiasm which surprised even himself.
“You wouldn’t have a bagel to go with that instead of toast, would you?” asked Billy.
“La di da. Young man, we only got to brown toast here last year. You want your toast cut in circles?” She was laughing at him.
“Make it brown and not too toasted, please.” He grinned back.
Thomas stood up to get the coffees she was pouring.
“I see you’re alone. I’ll be glad to take them to the table for you.”
“You’re obviously not from around here. Not just the way you speak, though. Use’ to be we saw manners like that in these parts all the time.”
“Top o’ the marning to you, lassie. God bless.” Thomas said, adopting his finest lilt.
“Now that’s what I like to hear. The same ting to you, laddie,” the woman replied, her eyes shining. “I’ve been to the ole’ country too, you know.”
“Where’re you from, then?”
“Don’t be bothering me. I’ve got my work to do, you know.”
The sound of eggs frying and bacon sizzling accompanied by all the smells of breakfast in America made Thomas warm up inside, even if his stomach wasn’t sure it would swallow all that food. Mother was so right to come here. Daily life is so much easier here than in Ireland. Thanks Ma, thought Thomas, as he finished up his first cup of coffee and downed a glass of water taken from a pitcher on the table.
The two of them ate in silence and kept up a repartee with the warm-hearted woman behind the counter.
“With this fare, surprising it’s not jammed in here?” asked Billy.
“They opened up one of them Burger King’s in town about six months ago an’ I just can’t keep up with the offerings. That’s why I was sharp about the bagel earlier. Sorry. Not sure I’m going to be able to keep open.”
“Once the novelty wears off, people will trickle back in here. This is home cooking and there’s nothing like it,” Thomas offered in a positive tone.
“Now I like you more every minute, son. Won’t you have some of my special tapioca, on the house?”
“I really couldn’t bother you to get that out for me.”
“Now you know I was going to get one for myself and it’d be no trouble at all.”
“Well, if you’re sure you were going to get one for ‘yerself’, then. I just might be tempted.”
“Set yourself down and I’ll bring the ting right over.”
“You really did spend some time back home, didn’t you?”
“My gram’s from the North. From the sound of your English, I’d say you lived in the North too.” Just then several young men walked in, regulars, and she flirted with each of them in a different way.
“Eunice, just serve up that coffee of yours and get busy on the usual for us, thanks.” The regular sat down.
Eunice winked at Thomas when he looked back at her on the way out the door. What a great country this is. Anyone who wants it gets a fresh start here, thought Thomas.
****
The roads near Boston were a mess of construction as ‘The Big Dig’ to change all of Boston’s infrastructure connecting I 93 to Route 1 and a new cable-supported bridge into the city were under way. It took time to navigate through the city and Billy missed a detour sign forcing them to traverse all of Boston before making their way to what locals call the Salt and Pepper Bridge over to Cambridge and The Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
“It’s an arm and a leg to park here, Thomas. Can I trust you to make your own way from here?” Billy asked when he stopped on Vasser Street. “Just go in the main entrance there and ask for Jean Pierre’s lab. He’s working on moving stuff in space.”
“Beam me up, Scotty?”
“You got it. Now go. Take care and don’t be a stranger. My cell number’s on the card I left in your bag,” Billy shouted through the open window just as he moved into traffic, not even letting Thomas answer him.
A helpful security guard greeted Thomas. He called Jean Pierre and issued Thomas a day pass into the engineering section where Jean Pierre worked. He clearly described the way to the Institute of Soldier Technologies. Thomas took the pass and thanked the guard.
Jean Pierre’s lab sprawled across a whole floor and held large and small experiments and dozens of busy scientists. Thomas stood at the door. It was secured by an unusual security lock; Thomas could see that it required a particular scan sequence. An oriental woman dressed in something that looked like a Hazmat suit came to the door and opened it for Thomas.
“Mister Deauville is expecting you. Please, this way.”
“Jesus, Thomas. You look – ah - let me think. Rugged, but shitty.”
“Nice to see you too, Jean Pierre.”
“You have to forgive me. I spend too much time in here and I only talk about the truth, so when I go outside the lab, I’m always shocking people.”
“What happened to the clown I used to know?”
“He’s still there, but he takes a few drinks to come out now. So what’d’ya think, my old friend?”
“Pretty impressive. You really running this show? I knew you were smart, but this smart? How’d they find you?”
“Crazy, isn’t it. You know that special exam I told you I took at McGill a few years back before I went out West to Edmonton to work on an oil rig?”
Thomas nodded, although he wasn’t sure he remembered. Jean Pierre continued.
“Well, that’s where it all started. One day this guy drove up to the rig site and asked permission to speak to me.”
“Ya. And?”
“Well, he gave me the keys to the van he was driving, a late model Ford that I was dreaming about buying and a cheque for 50,000 bucks and told me it was too dangerous for me to work here and would I please come down to MIT and take over an experimental department.”
“Really? Blow me away. Congrats.”
“Listen, Thomas. Here’s my car keys and my apartment keys. I wrote the address on a map I downloaded from the Net and left in the passenger seat. The parking garage is in the basement. Your pass’ll get you in there. I got lots on my plate today so I can’t leave just yet. You go make yourself at home. I’ll see you around eight tonight. Okay?”
“You said it. Till tonight, then.”
Thomas was glad of the time to clean up and buy some clothes in Boston. He and Jean Pierre could catch up later. All these great people around me. I must’ve been doing something right to have friends like Billy and Jean Pierre.
That evening Jean Pierre and Thomas talked for hours. Slowly, Thomas felt the funk dissipate, the funk that had drowned him in his sorrows since his mother’s and sister’s murder. I have to move on. Billy and Jean Pierre are right, Thomas thought, as he decided to pick up the pieces and start again. I’m gonna call up that guy who offered me a chance to work on syndicated photo reporting.
****
Thomas decided to take up an open offer from a syndicate of newspapers, one that he had previously refused while freelancing in Bosnia. After much consideration he also went to Rikers Island where the DEA was holding his grandpa while the old man awaited trial. The case didn’t look good; he was likely to get life. The minute Thomas saw the sad state of his diminished figure, the hollowed cheeks smiling at him through the glass in the prison visiting area, he forgave him. But it wasn’t enough for him to resume any sort of relationship and he wrote him off.
&
nbsp; Billy had taken a brief vacation to help Thomas and had to rush back to a photo shoot in Tanzania. As with many people emerging from a grieving period, Thomas jumped energetically into his new job with both feet. If I do some good with my skills, maybe it’ll erase the ache inside me.
One thing led to another and somehow time passed. It was imperceptible to Thomas, involved as he was with the excitement of learning and developing his skills, but inexorable nevertheless. Thomas, still single, found himself as the master of his journalistic craft. He was at the pinnacle of his career when he made the fateful decision to move to Al Jazeera.
Chapter Three
Al Jazeera Newsroom
Thomas found himself in the same position that any experienced person in a new job finds themselves; a newbie but no rookie. It was a week into his cameraman’s position at Al Jazeera when he dropped a hi-res satellite image onto one of the screens in front of his news partner. Sue Ann Lee’s manic fingers slowed down, her eyes focused on the location of a heat signature, the graphic display piquing her curiosity.
“That’s a lot of heat in the middle of nowhere, Thomas. You sure you’re ‘on’ here?” Sue Ann asked, her fingers hovering absently for a moment over her keyboard.
“I dialed in. Looks like there’s no vehicles, only people,” Thomas replied confidently.
“You’re a hell of a quick study, man. Why were you looking there?”
“I wrote a little ‘app’ that goes through a series of info sources twice a day and I sourced satellite feeds as one of ’em,” replied Thomas. “Simple enough, but effective, wouldn’t you say?”
“Why isn’t anyone else on this?” Sue Ann said slowly as she studied the images. Scepticism was just edging into her voice.
Diamond Rain: Adventure Science Fiction Mossad Thriller (The Spy Stories and Tales of Intrigue Series Book 2) Page 5