Ded Reckoning (9 page)

"Maria?"

"My sister.  Beautiful.  Smart.  A little taller and slimmer than me but still has ... never mind."

Hunter starts to respond, but Dee immediately continues in her rambling, bubbly style that is made still more enjoyable by her husky, contralto voice, saying, "It features premium wines.  In Italy, wine is part of life and we want to make DeLuca wine part of people's lives here.  Our premium wines include limited quantities of Sangeovese, Pinot Grigio, Rosato and a superb Estate Red Wine.  A blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Sangeovese and Merlot. Wines that my grandfather and father are knowledgeable about."  

As Hunter listens, because of her style of speech he wonders how she got employed by the Agency.  They,
we
, are so muted by the nature of their,
our,
business.

Dee continues about her grandparents and her Dad sharing an old home on the sixty-two acres of vineyards and working winery. The house has a large pool, a guest cottage with a smaller pool.  Also a wonderful tasting room.  This room is a touch of Tuscany, a link with home, and is casual and warm in the middle of the vineyards with an indoor view of the barrel room. It also has a picnic area for tourists.  She adds with a quiet laugh, "And it's dog friendly. Hadda' be."  Dee laughs again.  "My grandfather rides around the vineyards on his motorcycle with a side car... for his dog, Cab.  Magpie's momma."

She goes on saying that Maria, her sister, although stunning, is single and basically operates the business, while her father is in fact the Wine Master.  She adds, "And my grandfather, besides his motorcycling, continues to add his wisdom, and most importantly, he persists in making his own apricot brandy.  So, if you ever get a chance to meet him, the two of you will have something in common."

"What about Dino and Anna?"

"Eight and six.  Good children.  Love being up at the winery.  Adore their grandparents.  Oh, and are scared just a bit of my father.  He's a tad gruff at times, particularly with Dino.  But they love the pool, or pools, and perhaps that's what causes some of the gruffness from my Dad.  He worries about them."

Hunter pauses, then out of harmony asks, "How did you come to work for the Agency?"

Dee's pace is not set off with the sudden change of subject and tone. "I worked at Langley before I met Angie.  Angelo.  He was in the Navy and stationed at Patuxent River.  We married; had children; and came here.  He wanted to get in on the action.  Nam!  Those are his words.  He was on his way when the ship stopped in Hong Kong.  They had a few days off.  He went ashore and...and...never came back."  She looks away, over Hunter's head and toward the sky for a few moments.  Then back to Hunter with a stare as hard as burnt-black biscuits and says, "Just gone.  He's listed as missing.  Well, now, presumed dead.  The children miss him.  Especially at certain times, in the evening, bed time, or like when they visit one of their friends.  But, life moves on.”  Dee has the look of a person that wants to talk about something else.

"And you?"  Hunter probes.

"Ahhh, Hunter," she lets her sigh drag out in exasperation.  She continues,   "It's over. I'll never forget him but he's gone.  Dead.  I've moved forward.  Back at work, and someday I'll fall in love again."  She sighs again.  Then, "Maybe today," and she grins like the proverbial cat.

Hunter shakes his head uncomfortably, mumbles to himself.

Dee stares at him, head tilting side to side.  Then laughs aloud.  When her laughter fades, she looks at Hunter and with her contralto voice at its raspiest, says, "I've not dated since he's been gone.  Not been with another man.  He was my first, and last, maybe."  She stares at the perplexed look on Hunter's face.  
He knows that's not true
.

The cat smile spreads across her face and she says in a whispered voice, "You need to be careful.  I'm vulnerable."  Pauses for only a moment, then, "And horny."

"Vulnerable?  Not hardly."

She laughs again.  Louder, lets it fade and says, "Don't get nervous."  Takes in a breath, "Now then, tell me about you.  Stuff I haven't been briefed on or don't already know."  Titters again and takes a sip of her Limoncello.

He does, and as he does so, Dee inches to a spot against his left shoulder.  He fidgets some. She interrupts one of his stories from his Harrow-on-the-Hill days by saying, "Don't fret, I've left your other hand free so you can continue to sip your apricot brandy."  She smiles, "It's empty you know.  Would you like another?"

Hunter squirms just a tad again, says, "Sure.  What about you?  I'll get 'em."

"Sit still. You've had a long day and you might well need your rest before tonight's over."  She pushes herself up and out of the bubbling Jacuzzi.  Stands a second, grabs a towel and dries herself quickly, then purposely drops the towel over Hunter's head.  "You were gawking.  Vetting me."  She squats down like a weight-lifter, stares at Hunter for several seconds then reaches to the edge and picks up her glass.

Hunter swallows the last of his brandy.  He can't help himself as his eyes are drawn to it.  
Not exactly a bikini cut
.

She smiles, pulls her knees together, lifts the glass from his hand, stands and goes into the house.

Hunter shakes his head, refocuses his eyes and thoughts, snatches the towel off his head.  His eyes follow Dee across the patio and through the sliding door, and for as long as he can see her gliding across the living room toward the kitchen.  He mutters, "This is how this ... or it ... got started last night with Sam.  Cripes, Hunter, get a hold of yourself.  This is trouble city.  Got to drop her somewhere along the line."

He stops.  Frowns.  Mentally downshifts, wheels screech, beams flick to high.  His head tilts to one side.  He squints
.  My God.  Winery.  Tuscany.  Grandfather makes apricot brandy.  That was part of my dream.  This is weird.  This is the stuff of premonitions or omens or portents or worse.  
He jolts back to the here and now at the sound of her voice.  

"I'm back and I'm cold.  You need to turn the air conditioning down, or up, in the house.   So, I'm gettin' in right next to you, big fella," and does, snuggling close.

She murmurs, "Isn't this becoming an interesting night?  Like a dream."

Hunter gags on his first sip of brandy.

 

CHAPTER 6

 

"Being ready is not what matters.  What

matters is winning after you get there."

LtGen Victor H. Krulak, USMC

 

 

Hunter relaxes in the soothing waters of the hot tub.  It's a clear night.  Looking seaward the stars are dimmed by the lights of Mission Bay, however the constellation of Orion, the warrior, is easily defined.  Hunter continues his mind-wandering gaze.
Just last night I was in here with Samantha.  Then in bed with her.  Now she's dead, after one night with me.  And I'm told it's not related to me.  Or to my mission.  Bull shit.
 

Blinking away his star gazing he takes a sip of his apricot brandy and stares into the night sky again.
  First piece of bullshit is that
Dee Columbo is only my
Property Manager.  Second piece is she's my partner, but she's somebody's partner.  And third is "we".  There is no we in the hinterland.
 

He twirls the brandy in his snifter and takes a full swallow.  
And now I'm in the Jacuzzi with her and she's got more moves than a Saigon whore.
 

Hunter's thought pattern continues to drift.  
Ol' Brute Krulak was right about being ready.  Hell, I'm ready, and I'm goin' to win when I get there.  Alone.
 

Another sip. He shakes his head and mutters aloud,
"Si vis pacem, para bellum."
 

Dee asks, "What was that?  That sounds like Latin."

"It is."

"And?"

"It means, 'If you want peace, prepare for war'."

There's a pause in this brief exchange. Then Dee asks, "Is the p-i-e-c-e, piece or p-e-a-c-e, peace?"  She grins like a cat, then grimaces followed by her burnt-biscuit stare, and "With you, I'm sure it's p-e-a-c-e."

He steps out of the hot tub saying, "It means we need to get out of here.  This is not preparing for war.  I'm going to bed...alone.  If you need an escort home, get your dog," pointing to Magpie wandering around the far side of the pool.  "Or take care of yourself?  I've been led to believe you can do that."

Dee leaps out of the Jacuzzi like a porpoise surfacing at Sea World and snatches a towel from a chair.  "That was unwarranted, Kerrigan."  She slaps him for the second time tonight, then throws the towel in his face, turns and walks out of his patio gate and into her yard by way of her back gate.  Magpie follows, wagging her stump tail which means she looks like she's doing a K9 rumba.

Hunter murmurs, "Watch the hands.  Always watch the hands.  Good rule."  Then chuckles.  "I didn't deserve that.  Zachary did. Oh well, now and then I just shouldn't be left alone in a china closet ... whatever that means."

He goes inside.  

Been one helluva day.  

 

 

The Shanahan lads have their pints in hand and as the barmaid leaves the table she gets another pat on the rump by Conor, this one with a squeeze.  She squeals and punches the Pit Bull flush on the jaw, knocking him off his chair.  He stands, kicks the chair over and bellows like a bull.  The pub crowd roars with laughter over their rough-house foreplay and shout offensive words of encouragement to both.  The barkeep, a pub old timer, pounds his fist on the bar surface, rattling nearby pints.  He shouts the ageless pub command, "Mind your pints and quarts me lads.  Settle down."  The crowd quiets to the buzzing norm as in watching their "p's" and "q's".  The barmaid curtsies and promenades away, head swaying and a broad grin with her tongue on the upper lip.  The Pit Bull sits, flushed with feigned anger, but still overheated plans.

Waiting a few moments, the elder Muldoon tilts over and waves all three lads closer.  Danny and Sean Shanahan lean over the table, heads as close to the middle as possible.  The younger Muldoon, Conor, does as well.  It looks like an old-fashioned American football huddle.  The quarterback, Colin Muldoon whispers, "We haven't heard from your brother, Paddy, for days now.  We should have, but we've heard nothing.  I am going to have one of our trusted mates in Boston go seek him out and make inquiries.  We do know there was a bombing, and in a city where one was supposed to have taken place.  But no names have been released.  And we have no word of, or from, me lad, Paddy."

Danny Shanahan says, "Maybe he's just on his way home.  Hasn't had time to ..."

"I think not.  A call was to be made first.  That was an order.  A must."

"Well then, let me go there to find me brother.  He may need help.  He may need us."

"No, as I say, I'll have one of our mates go check.  You, and Sean here," nodding to the younger lad, "must stay.  You are needed here, not there.  This is the way of things.  The way it must be."

Danny stretches back breaking the huddle and takes a sip from his pint and puts it back down hard on the tabletop.  "I should go.  Paddy may need me."

Sean blurts out, "And me as well."

Muldoon's face reddens, his whisper is a tad louder and more harsh.  "I should have told you nothing.  You will not go.  You will stay put.  You have other duties to do here for the cause.  Going there was a one-time assignment for Paddy.  The ending of a matter long overdue but not forgotten.  Now strap it up, lads, and wait further word from me.  Do you understand?"

Danny again answers for both.  "We understand what you say.  We will wait for the present.  But, not too long."  He snarls, "Do you understand, Master Muldoon?"  

Conor starts to stand.  The elder Muldoon pushes him back in his chair.  Glares into Danny's eyes and with an equally nasty tone says, "I hear ye, lad.  Don't ya press me.  Now go and I will tell you what I know, when I know, and if I consider it is necessary.  Now, git."  He waves the back of his hand as if swatting them away.  Conor starts to stand again, only to be shoved back in his seat by his father, causing him to rock over backwards to the floor once again.  Conor leaps to his feet, rights the chair, and stands, fists clenched, glaring at his father.

The elder stands.  Snarls, "Give it a go, you whelp."

His son sits, flustered.  The old man sits, stares at Danny and Sean.

The Shanahans get up, snatch their caps and slap them on their heads and stalk out of the pub, leaving the unfinished pints.  The two Muldoons watch them intently.  When the two are gone, Colin says to his son, "You keep an eye on those two.  If they do something other than what I ordered, you stop 'em.  Give them a lesson in following orders.  We are in a war, not a family feud or some struggle between clans."

In the Irish, Gaelic, Conor responds.  "It'll be my pleasure.  I've never liked or trusted any of the three of them."

The elder Muldoon, also in the Irish, orders, "That may be, but not a thump unless they try to leave town or something akin to that.  Understand? "

"Aye.  Aye, I do."  He nods as he speaks.  Pauses.  Then grins and says,   "But now I be having me self another pint or two.  Then have me self that barmaid."

The elder Muldoon shakes his head.  "Good Lord, Conor.  You and every lad under sixty have had her.  You be catchin' somethin' that will burn worse than the fires of Hades."

"Naw, not me, father dear."  The barmaid returns to the table heeding Conor's wave for service.  He hugs her around her waist and says, "I'll have me another pint."

She wiggles just a bit appearing to try to free herself but without serious intent, and says, "And would you be wanting another again, or something else as well?"

"Both."

She wrenches free, smiles, and says giggling, "Then it will be so, laddie."

The elder Muldoon downs the remainder of his pint, says, "Since you won't heed my warning, then you can pay the tab.  This one and the one that will surely follow.  'Night, and don't forget your task."