by J. M. LeDuc
As soon as they entered the inner sanctum, he knew something was wrong. It was too quiet and Joan wasn’t at her desk. Seconds later, she exited the conference room. Dark circles under her eyes. She plastered a reluctant smile on her face and walked to where they were standing. She glanced at the bishop and then stuck her hand out toward Alana. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I feel like I already know you. Those who have had the honor, speak very highly of you.”
“Joan, what’s going on?” Bishop Jessop asked. “Where is everyone?”
“Follow me and all will be explained.”
Inside the conference room, a meeting was in full swing. Everyone stood as they walked in. Maddie was the first to approach them. “Hi, Alana, I’m Maddie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Seven came over and gave her a hug. “It’s nice to see you again. Let me introduce you to everybody.”
After the introductions, Maddie asked everyone to have a seat. Bishop Jessop and Alana looked around the table and then at each other. Each knew the other’s thoughts. No Brent.
The bishop was aware that Brent had been relieved of his duties, but he was hoping that somehow he would be here. “Madame Director, I hope I didn’t overstep my authority, but I thought Alana might be able to help with the situation concerning the colonel.”
“You know your input is always appreciated, but Brent is not here,” Maddie said.
“Where is he? Brent and Alana established a bond during our mission. I’m hoping he may open up to her in some way.”
“You misunderstood. He’s gone. We have no idea where he is.”
“What? He just vanished?”
“There you go again, stating the obvious,” Seven said, “but yeah, he just vanished.”
Alana’s shoulders slumped. Seven’s words frustrated the bishop and seemed to tear a hole in Alana’s heart. Bishop Jessop looked around the table. All heads were down. He saw Lucille wipe a tear as it slid down her cheek. “Can someone please tell me . . . us what’s going on?”
“He left this morning, just before dawn,” Seven said. “I had a feeling he might bug out and I found him at the beach. We spoke briefly and then he left.”
“What? Where did he go?” The bishop glanced at his watch. “That was only a couple of hours ago. Maybe we can still catch him.”
“We’ve looked everywhere,” Maddie said. “He’s cleared out. No signs of him anywhere.”
Alana stood. “I knew this was a bad idea. I should get home. If I can call a taxi, I’ll catch a ride to the airport.”
“Hold on,” Seven said. His mind was in overdrive. “With Maddie’s permission, I would like you to stay. We could use you around here until he returns.”
Alana looked confused. “For what?”
From the corner of his eye, Seven saw his wife nod her approval. “For one, the squad is a man down. I witnessed your military training when we were in Jerusalem. We could use your help if called into action.”
She lowered her head. “I don’t know, I . . .”
“And I could use all the help I can get taking care of Faith,” Joan said.
“Faith?”
“Brent’s daughter. I’m taking care of her until he returns. I hear you’re a night person and frankly, I’m not. I could really use your help.”
“Thank you, but I need to think about it. This isn’t what I expected. I don’t even have a place to stay.”
“You’ll stay with me,” Joan said. “At Brent’s townhome. It would mean a lot to me.” She could tell Alana still felt dejected. “I think he would agree if he was here.”
Those at the table followed up on Joan’s statement. “I, for one, think it’s a great idea,” Lucille said. “I’m too old to raise a grandchild. As her grandmother, my job is to spoil her, not to raise her. You would be a big help.”
“Seven can’t stop talking about how great you were in the field,” Jefferson said. “The squad is a five person operation and we are one short. We could really use your help. Your knowledge of the Middle East could be a huge help.”
Fitz nodded. “I agree.”
Seven smiled. “You’ll get used to him. He doesn’t say much, but he grows on you.”
Their kind remarks made Alana feel a bit better. “Well, maybe for a little while. I don’t have any reason to go back home. If you really want me to stay, I will.” A slight smile emerged.
“Then it’s settled,” Joan said. “If it’s okay with the Madame Director, I would love to take you to meet Faith and help you settle in.”
“That’s fine, but don’t take all day. We still have an agency to run,” Maddie replied.
“Thank you,” Joan said.
“Yes, thank you, Madame—”
Maddie held up a hand to stop her. “Like it or not, you’re now part of this dysfunctional family, so unless there is a need for formality, I prefer you just call me Maddie.”
“I think I like it a lot.” Alana blushed.
The girls started to walk out, but they were stopped by Seven. “It’s o-nine hundred hours. I need Alana back here at twelve hundred hours to begin her squad training. No excuses, so git goin’.”
“It would be faster if we went by . . . you know,” Joan said.
Maddie nodded. “If Brent was okay telling Alana that he was the Ambassador, then I’m all right with her knowing everything else. You may use the tunnels. Help her get acquainted with their use and operation.”
After they left, the rest of the team stayed put. “There are some things we didn’t mention in her presence,” Seven said addressing the bishop.
“Such as?”
“Brent took the Sword of Truth with him,” Seven responded. “And enough gear to start a war.”
The bishop’s eyes grew wide. “God help us all.”
Seven instinctively went for his tobacco tin, but thought better of it. “It’s not us I’m worried about.”
CHAPTER 17
The two continued to talk as the train continued to head north.
“Where were you deployed?” Brent asked.
“I did a stint in Iraq and three in Afghanistan,” Tag replied.
Brent knew his meeting Tag was no coincidence. “Infantry?” he asked.
“Sniper.”
Brent raised an eyebrow. “Unusual for an officer.”
The young officer nodded. “I volunteered. I didn’t think it was right to put one on my men in such a vulnerable position. I trained at sniper school. First in my class. The brass wanted me to teach, but I asked for deployment. At first, I was denied, but I was persistent.”
Brent smiled. “Where are you headed, Lieutenant?”
“Hadn’t given it much thought. I went back home to help my family. When my mission was accomplished, I knew it was time to leave.”
Brent thought for a moment. “I planned on taking my trip solo, but you’re welcome to come with me, if you’d like?”
“Where are you headed, sir?”
“Turkish-Armenian border. I have some business to take care of.”
“Business, ha,” Tag smiled, “I like the sound of that. It would be my honor to accompany you.”
“Well, if that’s settled, I suggest you get some sleep. We have a few stops to make before we get to our final destination.”
Tag pulled his cap down over his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
When the train stopped in St. Augustine, Brent nudged the lieutenant. “This is our stop. Grab your duffel bag.”
They walked off the train and into the late afternoon sun. It was early September and the humidity was thick. Brent watched Tag to see how he reacted to the air quality. He didn’t. The colonel liked what he saw.
“If I can ask, sir, why are we here?”
Brent stopped and looked at the lieutenant. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not your commandi
ng officer, so please call me Brent. You have the right to ask me whatever you want.” Tag stared back at him. “And I reserve the right not to tell you.”
The answer took the young soldier off guard. “Sounds like I’m still in the military.”
Brent nodded. “Right now, I’m hungry, there’s a great diner on Front Street. So, first we’re going to grab some grub.”
Tag’s stomach growled. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”
Tag looked around as they walked. “I’ve read a lot about this place, but I’ve never been. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s the oldest settlement in the south. Some will argue that it is the oldest in the states,” Brent said. “Great southern charm.” They turned on Front Street. “And even better food. They serve breakfast all day.” The sun began to set as they walked into the diner.
After a big southern breakfast, they both sat back. Their stomachs were full and Tag was full of questions. “I don’t suppose we just stopped to eat. What other ‘business’ do you have here?”
“I . . . we have business here.” Brent leaned forward in order to lower his voice. Tag mirrored his movements. “One of the best document forgers lives a couple of blocks away. We need new I.D.s and he’ll be able to outfit us with passports and new military documents. That’s our next stop.”
Ten minutes later, they entered a back alley. Brent stopped at one of the few buildings that hadn’t been restored. It looked abandoned.
“Nice digs,” Tag said.
The left side of Brent’s mouth rose in a half smile. “Sarcasm, I think we’ll get along just fine.” Before he could knock, the door opened as far as the chain would allow.
“You didn’t say anything about company,” came a voice that sounded as rough as the building looked.
“You know me. Always picking up strays,” Brent said.
“Has he been checked out?”
“I ran him through my contacts at the Pentagon. I wouldn’t have brought him if there was a problem.” Brent glanced around the alley. “How about we finish this conversation on the same side of the door.”
The door closed and they heard the sound of the chain being slid off its mount. When the door opened, they followed an old man in a wheelchair. The occupant of the chair had no legs below his knees. The inside of the building was as rough as the outside. Dilapidated furniture and the stale smell of marijuana.
Hollow eyes encircled in dark rings looked up from the chair. “Sorry to hear about Chloe. I’m going to miss her.”
Brent acknowledged the comment and quickly changed the subject. “You always spruce things up for company?”
“Screw you, Professor.”
Brent emitted a belly laugh. The first in a long time.
Their host did the same. His was phlegm filled. “Damn, don’t make me laugh. It kills the lungs.” He reached for a joint and lit up. He took a deep hit and held it out for his guests.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Brent said.
“Ditto,” Tag said.
Blowing the smoke out, the old man took another. “You don’t know what you’re missing. The government makes some of the best weed I’ve had since Nam.”
“We’ll take your word for it.” Brent looked down at his watch. “We’ve got a tight schedule. How about we get down to business?”
The old man turned his chair around and rolled into the next room. “Follow me.”
Tag couldn’t help but ask, “What’s your name?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Not waiting for an answer, he added, “You can call me Wheels. That’s what my friends call me. And you?”
“Rowtag.”
Wheels looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. “Injun. That’s a Cree name, ain’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir? I ain’t no soldier. Not anymore, anyway.”
Tag looked to Brent for an explanation. “Wheels is one of your own. The best sniper the Army had. I’d put his skills up against anyone.”
Wheels spit in a dirty glass on the table. “I had you pegged as an officer. You’re a sniper?”
“Both,” Tag answered.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wheels said. “It’s about time the military did something right.”
Tag nodded. No words were necessary.
Wheels flipped an envelope to Brent. “I have your documents ready, Colonel. His will take a little time. What do you need?”
Brent went through the contents: four passports, all under different aliases from different countries, and a new Army I.D. “Another set just like this one.”
“Same price,” Wheels said, “This ain’t Walmart. I don’t discount.”
“Done.”
He looked at Tag and then at the wall. “Stand in front of the white backdrop. I need your photo. I will also need your military I.D. so I can play with it a bit.”
Tag pulled out his identification from his wallet and placed it on the table.
Once the picture was taken, Wheels said, “Give me a couple of hours. I’ll put a rush on them for an extra ten percent.”
“You mind if we leave our stuff here?” Brent said.
“It’s safe here. Now, go do some tourist stuff or something. Everything will be ready at twenty-one hundred hours.”
Back in the street, Tag said, “Interesting friends you have.”
Brent thought of Seven. “You have no idea.”
Two hours later, Brent handed Wheels an envelope full of cash and in return Tag was handed his new documents. He looked at his new military docs. “Billy Redman?”
Wheels laughed. “I liked the irony.”
Brent just shook his head. “Let’s go, Billy. We have a train to catch.”
At the train station, Tag pulled his hair back in a ponytail and pulled it up under his hat. “Where to, Colonel?”
Brent grinned. “Washington, I need to say hello to an old friend. Then, we’ll head back and board a flight to Turkey.”
Tag just stared. He didn’t know whether to press the subject, so he said nothing.
CHAPTER 18
The train began to rumble as it pulled out of the station. Tag pulled his wallet out of his fatigues. “I didn’t come prepared for this type of expense. I . . .”
“Relax, Lieutenant. All your expenses are covered.”
Fourteen hours and multiple stops later, the two walked through the train station in Arlington, Virginia. Not needing their belongings, they placed their bags in a locker and stepped out into the mid-morning bustle of the nation’s capital.
“Now where, the White House?”
“Not today,” Brent replied. He thought of his friendship with the president. He would really flip if I took him to meet President Dupree. “Where I need to go is a bit more important, at least at the moment.”
The next thing Tag knew, he was exiting a cab and standing at the entrance of Arlington National Cemetery. They proceeded to walk about a half mile through the endless graves and monuments and finally stopped in front of the 9/11 monument.
Brent watched as Tag scanned the names of all those who had lost their lives that day. Tag’s skin grew pale as he continued to stare.
“Are you all right, Tag?”
Tag blinked. Color and life flushed back to his flesh. “Yes, sir, I’m fine.” He shook his head. “So much needless death.”
Brent agreed.
“Why are we here?” Tag asked.
Brent didn’t answer. “Stay here,” he said, “I won’t be long.” He found Monica’s name on the plaque and said a silent prayer.
Brent made his way to her gravesite, knelt and wiped the debris away from the stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here to visit more often.” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard to suppress his emotion. “I just came to say I miss you. If it weren’t for you
, I never would have recovered from my injuries after my first run-in with the Omega Butcher. More importantly, I don’t know if I would have regained my faith without you.”
Despair came with his words. He wiped away a tear as he continued. “I could sure use you now, Monica. Losing Chloe tore my world apart. My faith is fleeting at best. I blamed God for letting her die and said some things I’m not sure even He can forgive.” He placed both hands on the stone and looked up to heaven. “I know He is all forgiving, but I’m having a hard time forgiving myself.” His tears poured down his cheeks. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Thoughts of Joan flooded his mind.
Brent focused on the marble stone. He closed his eyes and pictured Monica standing before him. “You would be so proud of your daughter,” he smiled. “That wild child has grown up into an incredible woman.” He choked back his emotion, but it was to no avail. His anguish poured forth and soaked the marble headstone. He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. “I once promised you that I would take care of her if anything ever happened to you. I came to tell you that I stand by my promise. I needed to leave Palm Cove, to try to get myself together and to try to regain my faith. Although I won’t be close to her, I will protect her and love her always.”
Thinking back to the relationship he and Monica shared, Brent’s despair became a bottomless chasm. “I wish we could talk about everything that is going on, but this will have to do. I don’t know what the future holds, but I wanted you to be reassured that Joan will always be safe. I’ve lost too many people that I have loved and I pledge that I will not lose her.” He took a deep breath and tried to bring himself out of his self-pity. “I promise to come more often and next time, I’ll bring Joan.” He bent forward and kissed the gravestone.
Brent stood and wiped the dirt from his knees. His eyes once again portrayed the soldier within—dark, empty openings to nothing. With a final glance at Monica’s grave, he said, “Pray for me.” With a renewed continence, he walked back to where he left Tag.
The young officer watched him approach. “Your wife?”
“Old friend. Died on 9/11 in the Pentagon.” Brent could see that Tag had other questions. They would have to wait. “Come on, we’ve got some distance to cover. There’s a rent-a-car lot a couple of miles up from the train depot. We’ll pick a ride up there.”