Smoke Signals (A John Tall Wolf Novel Book 4)

by Joseph Flynn

  John thought about that for a moment. “Immigration issues really aren’t my responsibility. You want to pick up the ball, Madam Acting Secretary?”

  Marlene shook her head. She thought the arrival of Europeans in the 15th century was the immigration problem to worry about. Those people showed no sign of going home.

  John continued, “As I see things, most people who were born here are concerned about losing jobs and their local culture to newcomers. It’d be a good idea for everyone to learn English. That way, if someone’s bad-mouthing you, you can return the favor in a language they’ll understand. In terms of jobs, if someone were to create them for you and your friends, the competitive pressure for existing job openings would not increase.”

  John looked at Freddie, who grinned back at him.

  “I’ve already been thinking about that. Having skilled farmers and arable land available, developing artisanal crops might be a cool business to get into.”

  Ernesto frowned. “Marijuana?”

  “No, no. People should be able to get high on good food and the company of good friends.”

  “And music,” Valeria said.

  “And visual art,” Beebs added.

  “All that,” John agreed. Looking at Marlene, he added, “The telling of tall tales, too.”

  Freddie quickly outlined a management and labor proposal to Ernesto: A living wage, profit sharing, health coverage, education assistance and, best of all, the freedom to say adios if you wanted to move on.

  Freddie’s law firm would also represent the workers on immigration issues.

  Initially, the new workers could stay in the vacant houses in town.

  Other plans would be developed as the business warranted.

  With the general situation well in hand, John asked Freddie for a personal favor.

  “I’d like to borrow your plane.”

  “Going back to D.C.?”

  “With a stop here and there along the way. Might need it for a week or so.”

  “Take it. I kind of like the bigger plane I chartered to get out here. Using that for a while would be smart before I decide if I want to buy one.”

  A billionaire who analyzed things before he threw his money around, John thought. The kid just might wind up owning a nice chunk of the country. John patted Freddie on the shoulder and said thanks.

  John’s last conversation before leaving was a private one with Marlene.

  “I heard you stepped out for a short while after Basilio Nuñez made his getaway.”

  “If you heard it, it must be true.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of anyone else, but I assume the guy won’t bother Freddie or anyone else ever again.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  “Fine by me,” John told her. He stared into Marlene’s predatory eyes and saw a hint of what had happened to the sicario. He looked her up and down in a way that actually made her feel uncomfortable.

  “What are you doing, Tall Wolf? Leering is unlike you.”

  “I’m not leering. I’m looking and I just can’t see it.”

  “See what?”

  “If you ate that guy, there’d have to be a sign on you somewhere. A little bulge in your tummy or something.”

  “I didn’t eat him,” Marlene snapped.

  “If you didn’t, something did. I saw it in your eyes.”

  The idea that John could read her mind scared Marlene.

  “The bear,” John said with a smile. “You fed the killer to the bear. That’s a good one.”

  Marlene was at a loss how Tall Wolf could understand her so completely.

  John gave her a wink and said, “Go easy on Freddie. The kid has great potential.”

  Driving back to Seattle, Rebecca asked John, “What were you and your boss talking about?”

  “Marlene? I asked if she wanted to come to our wedding. She begged off.”

  Rebecca knew he was BS-ing her, but she decided to let the matter ride.

  “So who are we going to invite to our spur-of-the-moment ceremony?”

  John said, “Your parents and mine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have Byron DeWitt be my best man, if he can make it. Is there anyone you’d like for a maid of honor?”

  “Maybe Celine Dion, if she’s in town.”

  “You’re joking, but with my connections …”

  “Don’t you dare. Our parents and your friend will be fine.”

  “Something’s bothering you,” John said. “Your career situation?”

  She nodded. “Those hosers we caught back in Tesla? They’re Canadian.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And that Beebs kid did a real nice job of shooting his video. And if I have to say so, I did a pretty nice job with that bow. So how long do you think it will be before the whole world, including Canada, sees what we did? And by we I mean me.”

  John said, “Probably not long at all, but so what? You’re a heroine, if that word is still politically correct. You’ve got no worries there.”

  “I’ve been telling myself that, but I’m still not convinced. I think it’s going to have some kind of unexpected impact.”

  John said, “I’m the last one to doubt anyone’s intuition, but you know whatever happens we’ll see it through together, right?”

  “I do know that, and if you can’t fix it, I’ll ask your mom to cast a spell on someone.”

  Serafina Wolf y Padilla being a witch among other things.

  John laughed. “She’d do it for you, too.”

  Chapter 44

  Monday October 19, 2015, Las Vegas, Nevada

  Clark County required no waiting period to receive a marriage license. You filled out a form, showed a legal ID and paid a fee. Voila. You were good to go. There was also no requirement that the ceremony take place in a hokey, commercial wedding chapel.

  John was a nominal Catholic. Rebecca was a Christmas and Easter Protestant. They found a Unitarian minister willing to marry them in his home. The man and his wife were transplants from Boston. The home they’d had built for themselves was the only Cape Cod in their subdivision. The nuptials were to take place in their parlor.

  Freddie Strait Arrow’s Gulfstream had to take on a relief crew to fly first to Calgary and pick up Rebecca’s parents, Inspector Peter Bramley and Ms. Reva Bramley. Washington, DC was the next stop, where FBI Deputy Director Byron DeWitt came aboard. Dr. Haden Wolf and Ms. Serafina Wolf y Padilla joined the wedding guests in Albuquerque, New Mexico. From there it was just a quick hop to Las Vegas.

  While the guests were still in the air, the bride and groom went shopping for their wedding outfits. Rebecca chose a high-necked, long-sleeved french vanilla mini-dress by St. Laurent that showed a yard of gorgeous legs. In her heels, Rebecca stood within an inch of her groom’s height. John went with a Hugo Boss classic fit wool suit in navy blue.

  The guests also dressed to the nines. After hugs, handshakes and busses to the parents and in-laws, John asked for a moment alone with Byron DeWitt. The deputy director handed John a pair of house-keys and his cell phone.

  “Your honeymoon digs on the beach in Santa Barbara. The ocean’s in plain view, the amenities include everything you could ask for and the weather is perfect. But then it usually is.”

  “No earthquakes on the calendar?” John asked.

  “Only the ones you and your lovely bride provide.”

  John supposed he’d asked for that one. He asked DeWitt, “You spoke with Mr. McGill?”

  The deputy director nodded. “All you have to do is hit number 1 on the phone. His office is on speed dial. He’s expecting your call.”

  “You shared the video with him?”

  “I did. The vice president and the president also saw it. Everybody was quite impressed with the future Mrs. Tall Wolf’s archery. Go ahead, make the call. Oh, one more thing. The vice president really wanted to come with me, but she didn’t want all her security people to be a bother for you.”

  “That was very kind of her.
I’ll have to send her my thanks.”

  “Your getting married also made her want to push up our wedding date,” DeWitt said.

  John asked, “Are you ready?”

  “I am. Mr. McGill’s been giving me pointers. Go on, make the call. You don’t want to keep your bride waiting. I’ll stall them for a minute or two.”

  DeWitt strolled off to keep his promise and John hit 1.

  James J. McGill answered on the first ring. “Director Tall Wolf?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I saw the video Deputy Director DeWitt sent me. I also took the liberty of reviewing Lieutenant Bramley’s service record with the RCMP. That’s quite the impressive woman you’re marrying.”

  “She is. I believe you’d know something about that.”

  McGill laughed. “I do, without a doubt. Regarding the idea you’ve raised, I think it’s a real possibility, but I would want to talk with Ms. Bramley. Or should I say Mrs. Tall Wolf? Has she made up her mind about how she’d like to be addressed?”

  John said, “We’ve discussed it. She said whatever works to her advantage for the occasion at hand.”

  McGill laughed. “I like that. Well, the two of you talk about the idea, and I’ll be happy to speak with her.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “My best wishes to both of you, and the president also sends her regards.”

  John rejoined the others and returned DeWitt’s phone to him.

  His mother gave him a nudge. “You don’t need your sunglasses right now, do you?”

  John took off his Ray-Bans and turned to look at his bride.

  “Business call?” Rebecca asked.

  John said, “Made sure our table at Denny’s is ready when we leave here.”

  DeWitt grinned and asked Rebecca, “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

  Before she could reply, Reverend Dexter asked, “Is everyone ready?”

  They were. The Bramleys stood next to John; the Wolfs stood next to Rebecca. DeWitt stood behind John’s right shoulder. To keep him from making a break for the door, he’d later joke.

  Dexter said, “We are here today in the company of family and a friend and in the sight of God to join Rebecca and John in wedlock. Love consists of this, that two people protect and touch and greet one another. What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together …”

  Chapter 45

  Tuesday, October 20, 2015, Santa Barbara, California

  John and Rebecca walked hand in hand along Butterfly Beach just as the sun was cresting the eastern horizon. They had the place to themselves. Rebecca kicked at the white foam of the small waves as they rolled onto the beach and receded out into the deep.

  Wearing a look of mock insecurity, John asked, “Our wedding night wasn’t that disappointing, was it?”

  She gave him an elbow to the ribs, a gentle one.

  “No, not disappointing at all. I figure you’ve got about five good years left in you.”

  John laughed. “I hope so, and maybe a few more.”

  Rebecca said, “It’s just … I took a look at the Toronto Sun online before you woke up.”

  “And?” John asked.

  “Home page, top story. Yours truly in her dress uniform. Annie Oakley with arrows or something like that. Ottawa is very embarrassed about the bad guys being Canadian but couldn’t be more pleased about me.”

  “That’ll make you a lot harder to banish to the hinterlands,” John said.

  “Maybe. I still think there’s a boom about to be lowered.”

  John put an arm around his new wife’s shoulders. “I know we said we wouldn’t get each other any wedding gifts until we both had time to do it, but I couldn’t wait.”

  Rebecca looked up at John, something she had to do when they were barefoot.

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t try to pressure your government.”

  “Good.”

  “I did try to provide you with an alternative or two.”

  “Like what?”

  “Have you heard that James J. McGill’s investigations agency is expanding. Besides the one in DC there’s another in Paris.”

  “You want us to move to France?”

  John shook his head. “What Byron tells me, there are going to be offices opening in Chicago and Los Angeles, too.”

  “You want to move to one of those cities?”

  “Not necessarily. I spoke with Mr. McGill just before the ceremony got started yesterday and talked to him about the possibility of opening an office in Toronto with you as the person running it.”

  Rebecca stopped dead in her tracks. “What did he say?”

  “He said he’d think about it and he’s willing to discuss the idea with you.”

  “He saw the video, didn’t he?”

  John nodded. “On his own initiative, he also got a look at your service record.”

  “He can do that?” Rebecca asked, surprised.

  “Apparently. One other thing, if Toronto doesn’t work out for whatever reason, Byron is going to be the head of the L.A. office. He said you’d be welcome there, but you’d have to settle for being number two in the office.”

  Rebecca resumed walking. “I’d also have to learn a new city, a new country, new laws.”

  “The winters are milder than in Canada, I hear.”

  “There is that.” Rebecca said with a laugh. She looked around. “This is a gorgeous place.”

  John said, “There are drawbacks, but there are always drawbacks everywhere.”

  “What about us? Do you want to go to work for Mr. McGill, too?”

  “No, not yet anyway. I like what I’m doing, and someone has to keep an eye on Marlene. But with you in the private sector, you’ll have more freedom to set your own schedule. We should have more time together, and I promise not to marry anyone else while you’re not looking.”

  “Sure, I’ve just shown you how dangerous I can be. But if we want to have kids, and I do, what then?”

  “We’ll adjust accordingly. I like my job, but I’m not wed to it. Just you.”

  “Good. As pretty and warm as it is here, I think I’d choose Toronto first, if I have the choice.”

  “If you don’t stay in the RCMP and make all of my scheming irrelevant.”

  “Do you have your phone on you?”

  John nodded. He dug it out of a pocket and handed it to her.

  “Calling home?”

  “Calling Deputy Commissioner Murphy. I want this sorted out right now.”

  “How much time you think you’ll need?”

  “Ten minutes will probably do it.”

  “I’ll give you thirty. I’ll go get us a couple of nutritionally balanced but refreshing drinks.”

  “Don’t forget the straws,” Rebecca said.

  She watched John jog off on the hard-packed, wave-washed sand, thought about gaining a husband and maybe losing her country. She sat facing the ocean and made the call. Deputy Commissioner Murphy answered by saying, “I’ve never had a call from the American Bureau of Indian Affairs before. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking? Is this Lieutenant Bramley’s sweetheart?”

  Rebecca laughed. “No, Eileen, it’s me, and I’m speaking to you informally because I’d like this to be a woman-to-woman conversation.”

  “Sure. You want to know where things stand, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You’re not.”

  The deputy commissioner told Rebecca about the behind the scenes scheming by the Marchands and the counter-plotting by the Bramleys and herself.

  “We thought we had things all worked out, and then you had to go all Hunger Games on us.”

  “So where does that leave me?” Rebecca asked.

  “Well, there’s no way anyone in the government is going to exile you now. That’s the good news. The regrettable news is that your fate and Serge Marchand’s are still tied together. If you can’t be banished, neither can he. He’ll be reassigned
in an equivalent post in another province, probably Quebec.”

  “He’s the one who should be punished,” Rebecca said.

  Murphy sighed. “The prevailing opinion among most of our male counterparts is that you’ve punished him quite enough.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yes, indeed. So can you live with what I’ve told you?”

  Rebecca didn’t need a heartbeat to think about it. “No.”

  “No?”

  Rebecca told the deputy commissioner that she had married her American, and she had one and maybe two job offers in the private sector.

  “Here or there?” Murphy asked.

  “One in each country.”

  “You’re sure you want to leave the force and possibly your country?”

  “If Marchand stays, yes. If I go, you’ll see to it that he doesn’t get to stay.”

  A laugh came from the deputy commissioner. “Oh, yes, I’ll see to it. I don’t care who tries to fight me on that.”

  “Thank you, Eileen.”

  “Send me a post card if you stay down south, Rebecca, and make sure you have a room for me if I want to go somewhere warm in the winter. I’ll tell you all about Serge Marchand’s final days on the force.”

  “I can’t wait,” Rebecca said.

  She broke the connection, and looked out at the ocean rolling onto the California beach.

  Maybe the place she’d learn to call home.

  As the sun continued its climb, she grew warm and thirsty.

  She felt she could use something nutritionally balanced and refreshing.

  Looking to her left she saw John approaching with a cup in each hand.

  About the Author

  

  Joseph Flynn has been published both traditionally — Signet Books, Bantam Books and Variance Publishing — and through his own imprint, Stray Dog Press, Inc. Both major media reviews and reader reviews have praised his work. Booklist said, “Flynn is an excellent storyteller.” The Chicago Tribune said, “Flynn [is] a master of high-octane plotting.” The most repeated reader comment is: Write faster, we want more.

  Contact Joe at Hey Joe on his website: www.josephflynn.com