by Cap Daniels
Liz shook Penny’s hand then looked at me. “I like this one. You’ve got your hands full, big boy.”
“I most certainly do,” I admitted. “How about a pitcher of sangria, if you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Ha! Did Beethoven forget how to play the piano? Of course I haven’t lost my touch. I’ll be right back.”
While Liz was gone, Penny pored over the menu, making oohing sounds my brain related to things not on the list.
“Everything sounds amazing,” she said. “How do you ever decide?”
“I don’t. I just eat whatever Liz brings out, and I’ve never been disappointed.”
She folded the menu closed, slid it to the edge of the table, and took my hand. We locked eyes, and the corners of her mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown. “That was amazing what you did out there.”
I offered an abbreviated smile.
“You probably saved that woman’s life, you know.”
“No,” I scoffed. “He wasn’t going to kill her. He was trying to scare her. If he’d wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t have done it in public. I think she probably started it.”
“What?” Penny’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You think the nun picked a fight with that guy?”
“Yeah, I think she probably did. I think she believes he’s been messing with a kid, or kids, in her class, and she was fed up with it. So, I think she dressed in street clothes and confronted him. I don’t know. That’s just what I think, but I’m not very smart.”
Penny fixed her eyes on the multicolored glass lampshade above our heads and sighed. “You know, I think you might be right. What do you think will happen to him?”
I took a long swallow of water. “I don’t know. If he is a pedophile, he’ll be going to jail for a long time, and I’ve heard those kinds of people don’t do well in jail. I think even convicts hate pedophiles.”
“I’ve heard that, too.” She looked over my shoulder and smiled.
Liz returned with a tray holding a pitcher, fruit, two bottles, and two big glasses. She went to work squeezing and muddling, pouring and stirring, and giggling all the while. It was fun watching her work. She poured a glass and placed it carefully in front of Penny, then lifted the tray and began walking away.
“Hey,” I called after her. “What about me?”
“Oh, did you want some? I didn’t think it was okay for you to drink in front of your parole officer. But if she says it’s okay, then I guess I could pour one for you.”
Penny’s face hardened into a look of consternation. “Oh no, it’s not acceptable for a parolee to drink in front of his parole officer, but I think you should pour another one as a backup for me . . . and leave the pitcher. I’ll make sure he behaves.”
The two shared a good laugh at my expense, and Liz placed a glass of the ruby red sangria on the table in front of me.
“What are we eating, guys?”
Penny spoke up. “We’ll eat whatever you bring us.”
“Excellent choice,” she said. “I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, you behave, mister.” She pointed a scolding finger at me.
“Not a chance,” I quipped.
“So, seriously,” Penny continued. “You really are a good guy, you know that?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Whatever else you are—even if you never tell me the whole truth about it—there’s a good heart in that chest of yours, Chase Fulton.”
“I want to tell you,” I whispered. “It’s just that—”
She pressed her finger to my lips. “Not here. Not now. Let’s just enjoy our sangria and whatever Liz brings out for dinner. Okay?”
I bit her finger, and she playfully tugged at my bottom teeth, then pulled her finger from my mouth.
“As you wish,” I said.
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Don’t you mean, as you wish, Princess Buttercup’?”
I wrinkled my brow and stared at her.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen The Princess Bride.”
“I have no idea what that is,” I admitted.
She pulled a straw from an ignored water glass and initiated what I assumed was supposed to be a sword fight.
“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
I shrugged, and she frowned in exasperation.
“We’re renting it tonight,” she said. “It’s the greatest movie of all time.”
“I haven’t watched many movies in the past few years. I’ve been a little busy.”
Liz materialized beside the table with a huge tray balanced over her shoulder. A waiter slid a set of folding legs beneath the tray as Liz carefully lowered it into place. The small dishes looked irresistible. Liz described each item, as plate-by-plate she unburdened the tray and filled our table with the Spanish feast.
After eating for what felt like hours, we were incapable of deciding which dish was the most amazing. Sangria continued to appear, and Liz came and went as if she could read our minds.
We paid the check, thanked and hugged our marvelous waitress, and headed down the stairs, wondering if it was possible to salsa with that much food in our stomachs.
Penny joked that the paintings of the family who’d owned and operated the restaurant for so many years looked like Spanish royalty. Anyone who’d tasted their cooking knew the family was most definitely royalty.
Although the foyer of the Columbia was large enough to comfortably handle the crowd awaiting their seats, when the weather was good, most patrons preferred sitting in the ornate courtyard just beyond the beautiful wooden double doors. I’d always loved the transition from the colorfully tiled interior to the lush, elegant courtyard, but what I discovered as the heavy doors closed behind us was something I didn’t expect.
6
That’s Not What I Do
Sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap and a somber look of anticipation on her face was Sister Mary Robicheaux in full nun regalia. When she saw us exit the Columbia, she leapt to her feet and shuffled toward us, holding her habit a few inches higher than it was designed to lay.
I’d been attacked by all manner of men in countless situations, but I’d never experienced the anxiety of being rushed by a nun. I opted to stand my ground and see what happened next.
She grabbed both of my hands, stared into my face, and then pulled me in for a long, sincere hug. I didn’t resist, and I returned the hug.
She took a step backward. “Thank you for what you did this afternoon. That man is the devil’s errand boy. You don’t want to know the things he’s done. I know I shouldn’t have followed him and confronted him like I did, but he’s evil—the darkest of all evil. The kind of man who thrives on hurting children; beautiful, innocent, little children.”
I took the nun’s hands in mine. “Slow down, Sister. Let’s talk someplace else, okay?”
She caught sight of the crowd of tourists who were standing, staring, and listening intently to every word she’d said. Her face blushed red, and she seemed to shrink inside her habit.
“Oh, my. I’m . . . I . . . of course, we should go someplace else. I’m so sorry.”
In an effort to distract her from the onlookers, I stepped closer and placed my hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said.
We walked toward the Plaza de la Constitución, an open, park-like area with monuments, cannons, and even a few quiet, almost-private spots to sit and talk. We found an unoccupied bench and took a seat. Sister Robicheaux sat between Penny and me and nervously scanned the area for curious ears.
“Like I was saying,” she began, “what you did this afternoon was amazing, and I can’t thank you enough.”
I held her hand. “No thanks are necessary. I’m just glad you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “But it’s not me that you or anyone else should worry about. It’s those innocent children. As I told you before, that man is the worst of all evils. He preys on defenseless children and. . . .”
/>
I watched her swallow hard in a vain attempt to quell her rage.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s over now, and you and those children are safe.”
“I told you. It isn’t me who’s in danger. That man is going to be out of jail tomorrow, and he’ll be right back at the playground or the beach—anywhere he can find a vulnerable child. He has to be stopped!”
“The police are involved now, and if he is what you say he is, he’ll go to prison for a very long time.”
“No!” she yelled, then calmed herself. “No, he won’t go to prison. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s been arrested before, and he always slips away, thanks to his greasy lawyer and his family connections. You have to do something to stop him.”
“What? What do you expect me to do?”
“You’re a cop or something. I saw the way Officer O’Malley looked at you after you handed him your badge, or whatever was in that wallet of yours. The look on his face was respect or admiration, but you’re obviously pure law—something bigger than the local police. You have to do something.”
“Look, Sister. You have the wrong impression of who and what I am. I’m not a cop at all. I’m—”
“What Chase is trying to say, Sister, is that he works for the government, but he’s not in law enforcement. This is a matter for the local police, and you should let them handle it.”
I hadn’t expected Penny to come to my rescue. It had given me time to prepare what I’d say next.
“She’s right, Sister. That’s not what I do. I can’t help you.”
“Oh, bullshit,” she said as if it were the first time she’d ever used that word. “Don’t tell me you can’t help me. At least tell me the truth and say you won’t help me. But don’t tell me you can’t.”
Her accusation hit me like a bullet to the chest. What’s the benefit of possessing the skill set I’ve developed if I can’t use it for something as noble and truly good as protecting innocent little children from a predator?
I cleared my throat, glanced at Penny, and then locked eyes with the nun. “Here’s the truth. I want to help you, but I have other responsibilities that cannot be shirked. Tell me how I can get in touch with you, and I promise I’ll talk with you tomorrow afternoon, but there’s nothing I can do before then. Do you understand?”
“God bless you, Chase. That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sister. I’m Chase Fulton. Here’s my cell number.” I passed her a small square of paper. “Call me tomorrow afternoon when you have time, and we’ll talk about what can be done. Okay?”
“Thank you, Chase. And you, too, miss.”
“I’m Penny.” She stood and shook Sister Robicheaux’s hand.
“God bless you. God bless you both.” Without another sound, Sister Robicheaux disappeared westward out of the park.
She left me wondering what had just happened and what I’d agreed to do.
“That was weird,” Penny said.
“What do you think she wants me to do?”
“I think she wants you to kill that man. After all, that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“No! That’s not what I do,” I protested, but my words were hollow, and I suddenly remembered my vow to never lie to her. “I mean, what I do is complicated. And that woman is a nun, for God’s sake.”
“Exactly,” she said. “For God’s sake is right. She’s trying to protect the children she loves from an animal, and then you show up, a knight in shining armor on a white steed, riding to her rescue. What do you expect her to think?”
I tried not to let Penny’s words distract me from the impending reality of my job. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning with a guy who’s sort of my boss. I have another assignment, and I have no idea what it is. I won’t know until after the meeting, but whatever it is, it won’t be something I can put off. And it won’t be chasing a child molester.”
Penny pressed her lips together, and her mouth formed a tight horizontal line. “I don’t feel much like dancing tonight. Can we just go back to the boat?”
We crossed the Avenida Menendez and headed down the ramp to the marina. I was surprised to see lights on aboard Aegis; I hadn’t left them on. That’s when I noticed three figures relaxing, laughing, and drinking on the upper deck. Clark, Tony, and Skipper had discovered the boat was back at the marina and had made themselves at home.
“Clark, you remember Penny,” I said, joining the party.
“Of course. Hey, Penny. It’s nice to see you again.” He leaned in for a hug.
“Penny,” I said, “This is Tony and Skipper . . . eh, I mean Elizabeth. I’ve told you about her, and Tony is her boyfriend. He’s a Coast Guard rescue swimmer.”
Penny shook their hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Elizabeth. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Skipper said, eying Penny up and down.
“And you, as well, Tony. A rescue swimmer. I’m impressed.”
“Aw, it ain’t no big deal, ma’am. I just yank folks outta the water who didn’t have no business bein’ in the water in the first place. It ain’t near as glamorous as it sounds.”
Tony’s East Tennessee drawl worked for him. It made him sound humble and honest, which is precisely what he was.
We settled in, and Clark poured a round of drinks for everyone.
“So,” I asked, “how are those flying lessons going?”
“Great,” Skipper beamed. “It’s amazing, and I love my airplane. I’m doing great, according to the best flight instructor in the world.”
Clark blushed.
“Your airplane?” I asked.
“Well, I mean your airplane that you’re letting me use.”
“I’m just picking on you,” I said. “As I told you before, it’s as much yours as mine. I’m glad the lessons are going well. How many hours do you have so far?”
She sat up tall and threw her shoulders back. “Eight point seven.”
“That’s a lot of flying in a few days,” I said. “Is she almost ready to solo?”
Clark shrugged. “We’ll see how she does tomorrow, but so far, she hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to wreck her airplane.”
I smiled. “That sounds promising. Clark, are you happy with the plane?”
“It’s a good airplane. You made a good decision.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m looking forward to flying it some, myself.”
“So, how was the sail down the coast?” Tony asked.
Penny answered before I could speak. “It was great! But it wasn’t as exciting as the evening we just had.”
Everyone perked up. Exciting evenings were of great interest to the people I considered to be my family.
“Don’t make us guess,” said Skipper. “What made your evening so exciting?”
“Chase got in a fistfight.”
“Dear God.” Clark slapped himself on the forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t lose another fight.”
I’d developed a track record of losing fights before Clark had spent weeks teaching me Krav Maga, the Israeli hand-to-hand fighting style practiced by the Israel Defense Forces, and Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service.
“Oh, no. He didn’t lose.” Penny had a hint of pride in her voice. “He broke the guy’s arm and knocked him out for messing with a nun.”
The group belted out, “Messing with a nun?”
“I didn’t know she was a nun at the time. We just walked up on a confrontation between a man and a woman, and I didn’t like the way he was pushing her around. He pulled a knife, and I stepped in. It was no big deal.”
“No big deal, my ass,” said Penny. “The nun found us after dinner. She claims the guy is a child molester or something, and she wants Chase to take him out.”
Clark’s eyes grew wide. “What did you tell this nun, Chase?” Clark’s tone made it clear he didn’t like anything about the situation.
“I told her that’s not what I do, and that I’d
talk with her tomorrow after meeting with Dominic.”
“And what are you going to tell her tomorrow?” Clark asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I’ll tell you what you’re not going to tell her. I don’t care if she’s Mother freakin’ Teresa. You’re not going on some vigilante trek for justice. That’s not what you do. That’s not what we do.”
7
Ground Zero
Clark was a good friend and had taught me skills that would keep me alive on more occasions than I’d ever be able to count. But he was mistaken when he assumed that he had the standing to arbitrarily dictate who I would and would not help.
Sister Mary Robicheaux may not have been Mother freakin’ Teresa, but she was passionate about stopping a predator from hurting children. Refusing to help her was not in my future, regardless of Clark’s dictatorial forbidding. The all-consuming thought of how I could help her had kept me awake most of the night. That was, however, a can that would temporarily be kicked down the road.
I sat on the upper deck of my catamaran, alternately watching the sun rise over St. Augustine Beach in one direction, and watching my handler, Dominic Fontana, walk with a determined and confident gait down the ramp and onto the dock from the other direction. He checked his watch twice in less than thirty seconds. He was nervous. I’d never seen him nervous. Whatever mission he had been burdened with delivering was going to be far more than typical.
“Good morning, Dominic. Come on up.”
He squinted at the bright morning sun and shielded his eyes with a leather binder he held firmly in his left hand. Dominic typically wore a shoulder holster under his left arm, so he rarely carried anything in his right hand. Tradecraft becomes ingrained in the behavior, mindset, and actions of operators, and those old habits die hard. Dominic wasn’t wearing a shoulder holster that particular morning, but that fact hadn’t prevented him from keeping his right hand fully available. It was a practiced, long-developed instinct.
“Oh, hey. Good morning, Chase. I’ll be right up. Is Clark here?”
“Yeah, and there’s coffee in the galley.”