Redoubled

by Warren Esby

  “So let me introduce you to Golden Hawk.”

  Golden Hawk walked over and squatted next to Kentson and said, “How.”

  And then I said to Golden Hawk, “Would you and the three Bears like to see these fire ants swarm all over Dr. Kentson and watch him wriggle and scream in pain like your ancestors liked to do?”

  And Golden Hawk said, “And how.”

  Now the one thing I noticed about Golden Hawk when he squatted in front of Kentson was that his re-enactment uniform was not quite right. He had on a simple breechclout and Apache moccasins and a few feathers in his hair and some war paint that all seemed authentic enough. But as he squatted down, you could see the label on the underpants that he was wearing under the breechclout, and it said Calvin Klein. I knew that was all wrong. Apaches back then didn’t wear underwear that said Calvin Klein on them. They wore Levis.

  About this time, Edy came over with the ubiquitous Dove Bar in her hand and said that we really wanted to have a peaceful discussion with him and that the dove, as represented by the Dove Bar, was a symbol of peace. She offered him some. He refused, maybe because it was all melty. So she dripped some of the ice cream and chocolate all over his face just to be nice and told him she would make peace with the ants as well and dripped a trail of melted ice cream and chocolate over to the closest fire ant hill. Well as soon as the drops hit the hill, those ants started swarming out of that big ant hill mound, as ants usually do when their precious abode is disturbed, and Kentson could see it at ground level. They started to follow the trail to its source.

  When they were halfway to Kentson, I said, “Golden Hawk. Didn’t your ancestors used to cut off the prisoners eyelids so they couldn’t close them at times like this?”

  And once again, he said, “And how. Should I get knife?”

  “Do you have a sharp one?”

  “A dull one is better. More fun.”

  About this time Kentson started screaming and shouting, “No, No. I’ll talk. I’ll talk.”

  And then he lost it. I want to say that he shit his pants, but he didn’t have pants on, so I can’t say it. And then he started to tell us the answers to all the questions we’d asked on the way up. He had a very good memory and answered every question quickly and precisely and in detail as the first of the exploratory ants reached him and started biting.

  We had explained to Golden Hawk and the three Bears that we would have to end the re-enactment early if Dr. Kentson talked as we had expected him to, but promised that the re-enactment would be ending in a big bang like most of them did, and they would enjoy that just as much. You know, as I described, when both sides, say the Union and the Confederate soldiers face each on either side of a big field during a re-enactment, and they all fire at once, there is a big bang and a cloud of smoke and then they all fall down and it’s over.

  We all walked back up to the ridge where we had parked our rented SUV and the Apaches had left their trusted steeds, as mixed a breed of F150s as you would ever want to see. Ben called the drone operators responsible for the drones flying nearby that were waiting for his signal. He told them to look for an X in the middle of the desert shaped like a human body with its limbs spread out. The appearance of the human body would make it a more meaningful target. When they got their signal, the drones fired their missiles and the re-enactment and Dr. Kentson ended in a big bang like all the other re-enactments. Now I do have to apologize in case you were offended that I couldn’t tell you whether we were on American soil or an Indian Reservation that technically isn’t American soil. I was taught growing up that you can go to hell if you tell a lie, even a little white lie with gray around the edges. And I don’t want to go to hell for lying because I don’t want to meet up with Dr. Kentson again. He’s not the kind of person I like to hang around with. He’s just a little too arrogant and screams too much for my taste.

  As far as just executing Dr. Kentson like that, an American citizen no less, you may think that this was highly unconstitutional because we denied him his constitutional right to a trial of his peers. But we didn’t have any of his peers around, his peers being other American terrorists who were intent on the mass destruction of other Americans. And besides there was a good precedent established that allowed the United States Government to kill American terrorists as long as they used drones to do so. They were doing this all over the world, so why not in the United States. Now most of those drone attacks were killing terrorists in Pakistan, which is near Indian territory, because India in next to Pakistan. And we had just ordered a drone attack, near or on Indian territory, which had killed a terrorist as well, so we could argue that our drone attack was just as legitimate as any other drone attack near the Indian territory that was near Pakistan. Now you may say it was a different kind of Indian’s territory, but that is just quibbling. It was close enough to being the same thing.

  Ben paid off our band of Indians. I guess you might characterize them as a bunch of bad actors, based on their real profession, but even if they were bad actors, I thought they were good re-enactors or good actors as far as re-enactors are concerned. And the Indians did enjoy it. They told us so and said that it was a break from their hum drum job of running drugs and illegals into the United States. And with the cash we had given them, they would be able to buy SUVs with more capacity than their F150s which would improve their business and their lives, which is something that Kentson would have deprived them of had he succeeded in what he was trying to do. I don’t think there was any chance of our renegade band of Apaches talking about what happened or anyone believing them if they did talk. You have to admit that the whole situation was very bizarre, but my life is filled with bizarre situations, which does make my life interesting. Ben and Edy are also accommodating in that respect and do not seem to mind when I come up with bizarre solutions because they often work better than straightforward ones, as they had noticed at Camp Wantmo.

  And don’t go feeling sorry for Clark Kentson either. We never promised to let him go if he talked. Ben and Edy learned that he had become a Muslim when he had fallen in love with an Arabian princess during a trip to the Middle East and was prevented from marrying her by her father because Kentson wasn’t a Muslim, so he converted. The father, who was a Sheik who secretly supported and financed Al Qaeda, demanded that Kentson do something to help the cause before the marriage could take place. The marriage would not only mean he would get to marry his true love, but since the Sheik was very wealthy, Kentson would be far wealthier than he could ever imagine and be able to support not only his first wife, the Sheik’s daughter, but three other wives in luxurious splendor. Kentson’s only requirement to fulfill his dreams was to kill a lot of infidels. Was it really for love or for greed or for a combination of both? We didn’t have time to probe. If it was love, well maybe he would find the love he was looking for among the virgins he was going to meet in the afterlife, but his Arabian princess was stuck in the here and now and would have to find another man to make extremely wealthy.

  We did learn from Kentson, in that brief interlude of cooperation, that aside from his work and Doff’s, he didn’t really know too much else that was going on, except that Rhong Dong was in charge of the delivery system and that to Kentson’s knowledge it hadn’t been perfected yet, which confirmed what we had learned from Doff. I asked where that work to develop the delivery system was taking place, since we hadn’t found evidence of it in North Carolina, and he told us that Dong’s work was being carried out at Case Western Reserve in Cleveland and not at Duke. Did that mean that the fat Duke Blue Devil Dong was the wrong Rhong Dong? We were going to have to find out.

  We drove back to Tucson later that afternoon and Ben and Edy turned over Kentson’s belongings, including his laptop and cell phone, to other agents to help with the investigation and see if he had anything in them that he hadn’t told us. I quickly went through Kentson’s contact list on the phone and noticed there was a phone number for a Dong in it and later confirmed that it was a Cleveland n
umber, so it did appear we hadn’t had our hands on the right Dong. We all stayed overnight in Tucson and had a good meal and a mandatory stop at a Häagen-Dazs ice cream store at a mall nearby. We were planning to take a brief break for a well-deserved mini-vacation before proceeding on to Case Western Reserve. We had to make arrangements anyway and give the investigative team, who had taken Kentson’s belongings, a chance to go through them.

  Chapter 18

  We drove north to Phoenix where Ben and Edy and Anya and I had intended to separate for a while. We were all planning to take a few days off but had different ideas of how to relax. Ben and Edy were heading to Las Vegas so they would have access to ice cream shops, good restaurants and shows to distract them. I was going to fulfill a long standing promise to Anya and take her on a wild pig hunt.

  I had called ahead to a Phoenix gun shop where I had purchased guns before. They remembered me because I had purchased three hunting rifles at once that time. This time I had ordered four Remington Model 750 .308 caliber semi-automatic rifles with synthetic stocks and had each fitted with a 3-9x40 Nikon rifle scope. Ben and Edy came with us after which we would take them to a rental car company so they could get their own vehicle for their trip to Las Vegas. Edy almost changed her mind about coming hunting when she noticed they now had rifles with blue and pink synthetic stocks that she could have, but in the end she decided to continue on with her original plans and stay with Ben.

  It is true that, since they started using synthetic stock and plastic on both rifles and handguns, they found out that if they introduced colors other than black, they could really appeal to women who were increasingly interested in firearms and the ability to protect themselves and/or go hunting with the male of their choice or just protect themselves from and/or go hunting for the male pig of their choice, human or otherwise, like Anya was interested in doing. We separated from Ben and Edy at the rental car facility and Anya and I continued north to Flagstaff.

  Why, you may ask, did we need four rifles if Ben and Edy weren’t coming? Well two of the rifles were to be used by Anya and me during our mini-vacation. The other two were not for Ben and Edy as you may have presumed. They were gifts for two of my hunting buddies with whom Anya and I were planning to go wild pig hunting in northwest Arizona, in Game Management Unit 13B, which was so overrun by feral pigs that there was open season year round and you didn’t need any hunting license to kill them. In fact it was considered a favor if you did kill as many as you could.

  My hunting buddies were Raffy and his lifelong friend Wyatt Earp. I know that you are about to say that Wyatt Earp has been dead for decades, but I assure you that Wyatt Earp is alive and has a small shop where he repairs cars for a living in Flagstaff, Arizona. Raffy is a tow truck driver among other things. In fact, Wyatt was not the one who was in the gunfight at the OK Corral as you may have guessed. His great, great grandfather had been that Wyatt Earp. He only used “Wyatt” as his nickname, although he was a genuine Earp. Wyatt, Raffy and I had hunted together east of Flagstaff, but mainly had hunted prairie dogs and buzzards on our last hunting trip. Two of the rifles I had bought previously at the Phoenix gun shop had been for them. They were not as well off as Anya and I, so I had bought them both varmint rifles for that occasion. We needed a bigger caliber for wild pigs, so I again bought rifles for them to hunt with. They assumed I could afford it because they thought I was a used car salesman, and I have never corrected that assumption. Neither could afford the kind of equipment I brought, and both were delighted, once again, to receive the gifts. A really good hunting rifle is something that certain men really appreciate. Another, of course, is a good tractor. I learned that from the people I met in Hollywood. South Carolina that is, not California. Are there any men of that sort in Hollywood, California? The kind of men who like good hunting rifles and tractors? I don’t think so. I think they only think pink, and the pink they think is not the color of the polymer on a gun grip, or maybe it is.

  Anya and I went out to a nice restaurant with Wyatt and Raffy and their wives. They congratulated us on our marriage, because the last time we had seen them Anya and I had just started to date, you might say. And this time we didn’t have to endure any used car salesman jokes either. We had a really good time. We left the next morning for northwest Arizona. You can’t go from Flagstaff directly to northwest Arizona because something called the Grand Canyon is in the way, so you have to go through Nevada to get there and Las Vegas is on the way.

  Raffy and Wyatt followed us in Wyatt’s truck since we would not come back to Flagstaff after the hunt. Anya and I planned to reconnect with Ben and Edy in Las Vegas while Wyatt and Raffy would return home by themselves. The four of us were going to meet our hunting guide in Mesquite, Nevada, and he would take us to his hunting lodge in Arizona which would serve as our base for hunting the wild pigs. We spent the next day doing just that, getting to the lodge that is. The lodge we were taken to by our guide turned out to be rustic, but comfortable. The lodge was run by a couple named Jack and Jill, but it was not on a hill and it did have plenty of water.

  I had been promising Anya to go wild pig hunting ever since we had moved to the Cayman Islands. She had a job in high school killing pigs on weekends for a pig butcher, which is where she first had learned to dispatch a living animal quickly and efficiently by shooting them in an ear. She claimed she could also butcher a pig quickly and efficiently. Although I had never seen her do it, I did not doubt her for a minute. I had seen her kill humans quickly and efficiently by shooting them in the ear, which turns out to be a good target and one I have used myself. But Anya says all the men she had killed that way, and she has never killed a female to my knowledge, were characterized by her as pigs, which is why I never want her to think of me as acting piggish in any way.

  Anya had always wanted to shoot pigs in the wild and not just those that were coming down a chute to meet her. Raffy and Wyatt were hunters from childhood but had never gone wild pig hunting, nor had I, so this was a new adventure for all of us. There was only one problem that confronted me in this activity. It was only a problem for me since all the others did not think it a problem at all. But because of my previous experience, it was a part of the hunt that I approached with trepidation. In order to reach the area away from the lodge where the wild pigs were known to be, we would all have to travel for some distance on horseback, and horses and I just don’t get along.

  I felt this way from my only previous experience with horses. A female I once dated loved horses and thought that the ideal way to spend a date would be to go horseback riding. And when that horse-loving date got next to the horses, all she did was to get goo-goo eyed and want to pet them all and kiss them on their noses. The horses seem to tolerate this because it was followed by a carrot. And then that girl spent a long, long time brushing the back of the horse she was supposed to ride, even though the stable staff has already made sure the horse was brushed ahead of time. I mean, she would hardly give me a back rub for two seconds, let alone a backrub for twenty minutes like she gave to that horse, although she later did give me the brush-off after I told her I never wanted to go horseback riding again.

  On that horse riding date, the first thing I learned was that American Horse Language has very few words. The ones I learned to use with horses are mostly just two: “giddy up” and “whoa.” Actually, that is three words, but giddy and up are only used together so they are in fact essentially one horse word even if they are two human words. Someone told me there are two more advanced words, which are “gee” and “haw,” and are supposed to mean go right and go left, respectively. I believe that the horse, or is it a mule, can actually say the “haw” word, but I have never heard one do so. But some horses are pretty dumb, and the ones I’ve encountered apparently never learned the basic two (or three) words, and why the stable didn’t give them a vocabulary test before allowing them to transport customers, I’ll never know.

  We were supposed to go on a trail ride with a member of the stable l
eading the way. He was the one who told me to say “giddy up” to the horse and kick him gently in the ribs and he would go forward. If I wanted to stop, I was supposed to pull back on the reins and say “whoa.”’ It sounds simple, but it doesn’t work out that way, especially if you are riding a horse that hasn’t passed the vocabulary test, which I believe this one hadn’t, even though the stable boy told me he was one of the most experienced horses.

  We all got up on a mounting block with someone from the stable holding the reins of the horse so we could easily get on, and then we were handed the reins. All the horses left in single file. We were told that horses had three basic gaits which were the walk, the trot and the canter, but that most of us would only be allowed to walk and trot. Only those who were adept horse riders would be allowed to canter. Because I was adeptless, I knew and hoped I would be one of those who wouldn’t have to canter. The horse I was on followed the others, but he didn’t really even have a gait that could be considered a walk. It was a slow shuffle in which I’m sure he never lifted his hooves from the ground and instead kind of slid them along kicking up a lot of dust as he did so.

  Although I started walking in the middle of the pack, no matter how much I kicked and said “giddy up,” he moved slower and slower. Pretty soon we were the last in the line, and after a while we were lagging behind the rest. This continued for a while and finally, the rest were so far ahead that we lost sight of them. At this point, the horse I was on changed personalities in a wink. Did he hurry to catch up and break into a trot or canter, you may wonder? Nope. He turned around and began to run as fast as he could back to the barn we had left. No amount of pulling on the reins or saying “whoa” could dissuade him. I held on to the saddle horn for dear life and prayed that no one would say “gee” or “haw” because if the horse decided to gee or haw, I wouldn’t have. The horse didn’t. He ran in a straight line back to the barn and I don’t think he used a trot or a canter to do so. He went at a dead run which was not a gait the trail leader had told me he had. We came into the stable yard at breakneck speed and headed straight for the stable entrance. The stable boy, luckily, was pushing a wheelbarrow out of the stable and was in the stable yard in front of the barn.