A Bodyguard of Lies

by Donna Del Oro

  “I don’t want you to seduce her or even try,” Mary Snider went on, her gaze on his face unswerving, “Your type will break her heart.” She seized her butter knife with the point of the blade facing upwards. “I will make you very sorry if you hurt her. If you try to intrude into our lives.”

  Jake was bowled over by the woman’s hostility. “Frau Snider, are you threatening me? For making friends with your granddaughter?”

  “Yawoh, mein herr. Don’t intrude, Herr Bernstein. Stay out of our lives. She’s happy enough without you. I see to that.”

  A small gasp from Meg let him know that she’d understood some of the last exchange. Yet, she appeared confused by her grandmother’s words. Easy to miss, for Mary Snider’s tone hadn’t betrayed her, her voice and expression remaining pleasant. They could’ve been discussing the variety of food on the buffet tables.

  Though Jake’s blood was turning cold, he kept a small, ironic smile in place, trained on the elderly woman. Mary Snider was old but she was cagey and gutsy. And her antenna was up. She didn’t miss a thing. He noticed her hands for the first time, covered by dark blue leather gloves. Even while she ate. An odd affectation, he thought, even for an eccentric, old bat.

  “Well, Frau Snider, your warning is duly noted,” he went on in German, “I understand your position. Now understand mine. I’m not a womanizer. I respect women. The failure of my marriage still weighs on me. Now I’m married to my work. I have no intention of seducing your granddaughter. Just want to hang out with her on this tour.”

  Mary’s posture cracked. A nasty laugh broke through.

  “You’re a liar, meine jugenge herr. You intend far more. I’ve known handsome men like you. They’re selfish and they’re trouble.”

  At that accusation, Jake halted, their argument winding down to a stalemate. Mary Snider was right.

  He was a liar. This whole thing was based on his deception. And yes, possibly Mary Snider’s. True, men like Jake were selfish. His ex-wife had often told him so. He’d cared more about his work than he’d ever cared for her. That was the whole fucking truth in a relationship rife with deceit. Had she not tricked him—telling him she was pregnant and her Navy career was in jeopardy as a result—Jake would never have married her. Her supposed miscarriage was the catalyst to the end of a marriage already doomed by mistrust.

  Jake grabbed his cup and lurched to his feet. He excused himself and made a return visit to the coffee urn. He poured himself another cup while waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. Choked with guilt and anger—he’d allowed Mary Snider to get to him—his hands shook as he brought the cup to his mouth.

  Dammit! He’d let the old lady rattle his cage.

  Just then, Robert Morse, the tour guide, appeared in the doorway of the dining room. He looked unbearably frisky as he rubbed his hands together.

  “Morning, all you chipper mates. Looks like you enjoyed your breakfast. No dodgy meals with Global Adventures, are there? Time to board for a city tour of Bath. Hop to, hop to! Then off to South Wales we go after a marvelous lunch of shepherd’s pie and a tad of ale! We’re bloody excited now, are we not?”

  Jake itched to say, Hell no, I want my friggin’ coffee!

  People stirred, got up and started to leave. Jake made no move.

  As he sipped from his third caffeine infusion, Meg sidled up to him. Embarrassed at the mix of emotions that he was wrestling with, he kept his posture rigid and guarded.

  “Whatever Grandma said that upset you, I’m so sorry—” Meg broke off, seemingly at a loss. Jake said nothing. He couldn’t look at her.

  Mary was waiting by the doorway, leaning on the doorjamb for support, looking very helpless at the moment. Meg sputtered in her frustration, then left to join her grandmother. Jake made no attempt to stop her or call her back.

  Yeah, he was trouble. Trouble for both women. If they only knew…

  Finally, the realization hit him…like a punch in the gut. Mary Snider had been testing him. Not only the extent of his German, but all her right-wing rhetoric and insolence was meant to drive him away. She knew he’d be offended by her personal assault on his character. But he was more upset at himself than at the old witch.

  Objectively, the brief exchange he’d had with Mary Snider had been productive. He’d learned three things: One, Mary McCoy had lied to Churchill’s War Office. She was fluent in German, spoke with a northern accent, in fact—as far as he could tell, anyway.

  Unless she became fluent…after the war. Like during a posting at one of the American air force bases in Europe. Where were the Sniders stationed after the war? Colonel John Snider retired from the U.S. Air Force in the late 1970’s.

  He’d make a call to Headquarters and find out.

  Why Mary McCoy had lied about her fluency in German back in 1940—if she indeed was fluent then—he didn’t know. Maybe a German boyfriend in Dublin whom she later learned was a spy and was just using her to gain secret information? Was she afraid of being accused of treason by her association with the guy?

  Was her German boyfriend this Thomas McCoy that she corresponded with during the war…until 1944? Was she spying for him? Or was he just an Irish friend from school?

  Second, Mary Snider and her granddaughter were natural mimics. They had the talent for learning a foreign language in record time and speaking it without an accent. He’d known people like that, especially students at the Military Foreign Language Institute. A couple of Navy Seals and Army Rangers he knew were chosen for espionage training because of that very facility. So Mary’s fluent, accentless German didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  Third, Mary Snider was exceptionally perceptive. Jake had to be extra cautious around her not to tip his hand. Or scare her into clamming up. The ol’ lady had sharp instincts. Always on the alert for danger. Like a mother bear, always protective of her granddaughter.

  She was also clever and cagey.

  Not to mention, one cold, harsh bitch!

  Chapter Eleven

  Lunch with Harry Philemon and the two New Jersey sisters, Judy and Jeannie, passed uneventfully. Thank God, Jake mused. He needed a break from Mary Snider’s dramatics and hostility even though he risked losing Meg’s goodwill.

  That made his chest tighten with pain.

  Somehow Jake knew he had to win the old lady’s trust, get close to them. Mary Snider was keeping him at bay in an attempt to protect her granddaughter. Maybe something else was going on—a kind of sixth sense or intuition that Jake wasn’t what he said he was. That kind of intuition would’ve helped a Nazi mole survive in wartime London. Would’ve prevented her from letting down her guard and getting caught. Her survival instincts had to be super keen, kind of an intelligence operative’s antenna.

  All of it was absolutely necessary for survival.

  Jake’s skepticism over Mary Snider’s motives weighed on his mind all during their lunch of deep fried cod, French fries and salad—fish ’n chips. His gut was telling him one thing, his mind, another.

  Bantering with Harry and flirting with the girls lightened his mood a little, helped him temporarily forget why he was really there. Comparing the Roman ruins in Bath to Roman ruins elsewhere in Europe occupied the four of them, like a game of Jeopardy. The sisters wondered if the gay baths in San Francisco were anything like the ones in ancient Rome—places for men to meet and engage in sex.

  He did his best to ignore Meg and her grandmother although he did note who their table companions were—the wealthy French Canadian couple again. He did his best to ignore the hollow ache in the middle of his solar plexus as well.

  After lunch he made a call to Headquarters in D.C. and asked for Colonel John Snider’s postings from 1945 to the time of his military retirement. The analyst from the office next door to his, his longtime pal Len, said he’d have the info in two hours and to expect a call back. No need to encrypt it since the information wasn’t classified.

  Four hours later, after crossing the River Severn and arriving in the Welsh capit
al of Cardiff, they endured another forgettable, high caloric meal at their hotel, the ultramodern St. David’s Hotel. By then, Jake was ready to bolt. He declined the sisters’ invitation to join them and Harry for drinks in the hotel bar lounge, went up to his room to change clothes. A good run was what he needed, despite the overcast sky and dark rainclouds sweeping in from the Irish Sea nearby.

  He played Len’s message. Colonel John Snider had spent his military career as a logistics and air materiel manager. His postings included Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, and other bases in the Philippines, Taiwan, South Korea, California, Alaska and other states west of the Mississippi. He finished as Commander of McClellan, the Sacramento Air Materiel base, home of the F-series of fighter jets. He’d never returned to Europe after WWII.

  Which meant that the colonel’s wife, Mary McCoy Snider, could only have mastered accentless German if she’d taken frequent trips abroad to Germany. Or if she had studied German in a special immersion program. He’d have to find out. Eliminate all logical possibilities before drawing a conclusion.

  As he slipped a sweatshirt over his T-shirt and shook off his tan dockers, a knock sounded at his door. He strode over to it, clad only in black briefs, navy sweatshirt and athletic socks. Opened it a crack.

  Meg. His heart did a somersault. She looked ready for a run in a tank top, running shorts and sneakers. And wearing a wry smile.

  “Mind? Or do you hate me, too?”

  Her hopeful manner melted the icy pain he’d harbored all day. He opened the door wide and let her in. A perverse need to show her a little of his body—or just plain male arrogance—drove him. He stood before her in little more than his skivvies. Look what you can have if you ignore your granny’s paranoia. Which—come to think of it—Meg was doing.

  “Come on in, I was just changing to go running.” He ignored her wide-eyed stare at his bare legs…and clingy cotton, ass-molding underwear. “I don’t hate you, Meg, or your grandmother. She makes me angry but I can deal with that. She’s old…” Stumped for words, he ended up simply shrugging. The diplomatic way out.

  Facing her, he shrugged on his dark navy-blue sweatpants, did the waist tie. Then went to get his athletic shoes. Meg was watching intently. If he was not mistaken, almost hungrily.

  Damn, her look made his cock harden.

  “Not to excuse her, but she’s taken care of me since I was a baby. She’s been more of a mother to me than my own—anyway, it’s not your problem, her overprotectiveness. Whatever she said to offend you, I apologize on her behalf. Truly.”

  Her words worked its magic on him and melted the rest of his resolve away. He approached her, stood close, daring her to move away. She didn’t.

  “I don’t blame you for your grandmother’s, well, crotchety behavior. I couldn’t. In fact, I’m struggling to keep from liking you too much.”

  One of her graceful hands raised and settled on his arm. Her face angled downward, she looked at him from beneath dark lashes, her dark blue eyes enthralling him.

  “I’m struggling, too. Is that a bad thing?”

  He grinned like a schoolboy. “Well, for one thing, you live over a thousand miles from D.C. You’ve got probably a dozen guys hovering around. Your grandmother hates me. Let’s see, what else?”

  “Certainly not a dozen,” she teased, “I do like you, Jake, even if Grandma doesn’t. I’m not my grandmother, y’know. Maybe I see in you something she can’t see.” Her face lifted and her gaze met his. “I’m glad we’re spending time together alone. Away from the others.”

  He wondered if he should kiss her then and there. They stared at each other. If he kissed her, would he be able to stop? Would he be able to shove out of his mind what his real purpose was? Her beautiful eyes seemed to be questioning him.

  Then the moment passed and Meg stepped back. She stared at the Navy insignia on one hip of his sweatpants, and the big white letters that ran down one leg.

  “You said you were in the Navy.”

  “Yeah. Served six years after UCLA. I was a Navy SEAL for four of those years, then did, uh, administrative work.”

  “Why did you leave the SEALs, Jake?”

  “One of the ops we did in the Middle East. I can’t tell you anymore than that. It’s still classified.” Would he ever tell anyone other than his Navy pals how badly that operation had been botched? He doubted it. It was black ops, partly successful—at least that’s how it had been written up for the top brass. He knew better, but had stuck to the SEALs’ code of silence. People were killed, good men who shouldn’t have been, cut down in the prime of their lives. They’d walked right into a trap, Jake felt. Bad intel plus a poorly conceived op, it had had no hope of success. He left the SEALs right after that, disillusioned to his very bone marrow.

  “Grandma said you’re divorced.” Her attempt to sound indifferent fell flat. She sounded embarrassed, like she shouldn’t be interested but couldn’t help it.

  He stood up and pocketed his room card-key.

  “We were both Navy officers. When I decided to return to civilian life, we both agreed to call it quits. I moved to Virginia, found my current job. End of story. No children, no pets, no alimony. As I told Granny, I’m married to my work.” He closed the door behind them. “I don’t currently have a girlfriend, don’t smoke. I drink socially. My only hobby is working out at the gym—oh yeah, and reading. And I do all the maintenance on my townhouse in Alexandria. Dull life, dull guy.”

  At least, that much he’d told her was truthful. Meg smiled and swung her long, blonde ponytail as she spun around in the hallway.

  “Oh, I think you’re anything but dull, Jake Bernstein. By the way, did you ever meet my uncle, John Snider, Jr. while you were in the Navy? He’s up for promotion to commander of a missile cruiser. Stationed in San Diego. They’re grooming him for an admiralship.”

  Jake stopped in the hallway. Of course! He hadn’t made the connection before. That was why this assignment was given top priority, rushed up the chain of command at FBI Headquarters. Top Navy brass was behind this discreet investigation. The Navy didn’t want the potential media scandal so they made sure MI5 and the FBI chose an ex-Navy man with military intelligence experience. Maybe someone who’d go out of his way to clear MI5’s main suspect.

  Mary Snider.

  A reputable Navy officer in command of a missile cruiser—with a fugitive Nazi spy for a mother? Vice Admiral John Snider, Jr.—jeez, why hadn’t he connected the dots?

  Why didn’t his supervisor tell him? Was he testing Jake’s impartiality? Naturally, an ex-Navy man might want to side in favor of a vice-admiral’s mother. Or was Jake meant to keep MI5 honest?

  “Is something wrong? Did you forget something?”

  He shook his head and turned on his charm.

  “Thought I did, but no.” One of his big hands automatically slid up her arm and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “No, never met your uncle, but I’ve heard of him. Vice Admiral Snider? Impressive record. A good man, from what I hear. You up for a jog to Cardiff Castle? Maybe to the bay?”

  His groin clenched when Meg patted his chest with both hands, let them linger there for a moment.

  “Sure, let’s go. You lead the way. I kinda half-dozed on the way in, missed Robert’s lecture. I don’t know anything about the area except that we’re in South Wales. And this is the capital. And their flag is strange. A red dragon on a white and green field. What’s with that?”

  “You’re right there, damn strange. Robert said it had to do with their Celtic history. The ancient Celts believed in the power and magic of dragons. Have to find a book about that.”

  She removed her hands. “Don’t worry, Meg, I’ll slow my pace. I want you next to me, so we can talk.” That got an even bigger smile out of her.

  A disquieting feeling twisted his guts.

  Damn! He liked this girl too much! Maybe he was half-falling for her. A stupid thing to do, he rationalized, even though getting close to her and the old lady was his job. Getting invo
lved emotionally wasn’t. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  He suspected he’d already lost the fight.

  Chapter Twelve

  A run through the town to Cardiff Bay and its long dock took a half hour. Then back up Westgate Street past the Millennium Stadium to Castle Street, another half hour. They slowed down to an easy, measured jog the last half-mile as they pulled up to the entrance of Cardiff Castle. The 2,000 year-old Roman site held a renovated castle bearing medieval, Norman and Tudor architectural features. It was part of the town’s ancient, proud heritage. Above the highest turret flew the red dragon flag.

  They caught their breath while Jake paid their entrance fee. Meg’s flushed cheeks and happy smile made his chest expand with pleasure. He wished they were traveling by themselves, without a care in the world, just two lovers enjoying the sightseeing and each other.

  Meg was wearing a thong under her shorts, a fact he’d already noticed and approved of. Beyond that, he’d observed her more relaxed state. Like she was confident of their mutual attraction, that it was as much returned as given. He’d done the right thing by admitting to her how much he liked her; she obviously was feeling the same toward him and now she didn’t have to hide it. Despite his misgivings about the intensity of his feelings, Jake also felt—well, happy. Like something good and warm was growing deep inside him. A great feeling, the kind of joy he only felt around his family in Southern California. It was like going home and finding yourself surprised but pleased to know how much you belonged there.

  Still, his mind was on duty and there were pertinent questions he needed answered.

  “When we—your grandmother and I—were speaking in German, you seemed to understand a lot. That’s amazing after only a year of studying, Meg. You do pick up languages fast.”