“You're alive!” Armando said excitedly.
“Yes, I am. You sound surprised.” Brad said into the phone.
“I just met with the Director and found out that the delivery agent had been ambushed and tied up. So, I knew you had met with an assassin. Apparently, the mole knows about you and the operation that is taking place. He knows that it involves the Jenkins case. I had sent the Director an e-mail detailing your meeting, and it looks like it was invaded, taken and deleted from Ted's computer.”
“Hm.” Brad grunted.
“What happened?” Armando asked.
“I was given a cell phone activated bomb. Thanks to Recon's sense of smell I was able to throw it into the ocean about two seconds before it went off.”
“So, I haven't heard from you because you thought I had set you up. Is that right?”
“It was the obvious conclusion.
“We've been friends for a long time.” Armando said.
“I didn't say it was an easy conclusion.”
“Okay.” Said Armando. “Let's try this again, and see if we can do it without you getting blown up. This time I'll meet you personally. Has anything changed from your original request?”
“Susan has an idea, but we need information on our adversaries. So, no, nothing has changed.” He paused in thought. “Actually, I'd like to get as much info as I can on the guy who is chasing Susan. I think he's the lead man in the field for Alberto.”
“Okay. What's his name?”
“Beats the hell out of me. He's a big guy – at least 6'4”, and at least 240 pounds. He's got dirty, longish blond hair and - “ He turned to Susan. “What color eyes does he have?”
“Ice, cold, lethal blue.”
He stared at her for a second before returning his gaze out the front window. “ and blue eyes."
I'd say he's about 40 years old. Chiseled features – looks a little like an actor who's name I can't remember, except this guy has a mean look to his face, almost as if it's natural.”
“Not an actor.” Susan said quietly.
“What?””
“He's not an actor. He's a model.”
He looked at her again for a second before turning his head to the window. “Okay. Susan said he's a model. So, he looks like a model, except he looks like one mean son-of-a-bitch, like he started life off torturing insects and worked his way up to people.”
“Spike Olaf.” Armando said.
“You know who he is?” Brad asked, surprised.
“I know of him, and he's been a person of interest a few times. Enough for me to check him out. He's been in trouble with the law off and on throughout his life. He's worked his way up the ladder doing dirty work for De La Cruz. Apparently he's very good at it, but not very sophisticated about how he does his job. What he is is very loyal to De La Cruz, and will do what's ordered without question. People like De La Cruz need people like Spike Olaf to keep everybody in line and to make sure the dirty jobs gets done.”
“I see.” Brad responded. “Get me everything you can on him; his personal life, his habits and psychological makeup also, if you have that kind of a profile on him.”
“Roger that, Major. Let's set up a meeting. Do you remember that time when you were still an NCO and we got into that fight with those cowboys because one of them didn't like me dancing with a white girl?”
“Yeah, and the MP's were waiting outside the door for us. The only thing that made that lucky is we were near the door when they came at us, and we knew the MP's. They literally saved our asses.” Brad started laughing. “Remember the look on their faces when we ran to their jeep and jumped in the back yelling, “Let's get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah.” Brad could hear the smile in Armando's voice. “Good times.
“Anyway,” Armando said, removing the reminiscence from his voice. “Do you remember where the MP's dropped us off?”
“Yes.”
“Are you close enough to that location to meet me at – let's say about 1800 hours?”
“Yep. Should be no problem. Oh, and Armando. Bring a couple of boxes of 9 mm, and two machine pistols with back up ammo, just in case Spike puts another gang together. I want to have as good of fire power as I suspect he will have if we meet again.”
“Right. See you tonight.” Armando hung up.
Susan had been listening on the speaker phone. “That's what you guys call a good time?”
“What's that?” he asked as he fired up the Land Rover and pulled out onto the road.
“Getting beat up by a bunch of cowboys.”
“Oh, that.” he said dismissively. “We were in our early twenties at the time. It was an adrenalin rush, and we lived for action. Plus, they didn't beat us up. I admit some of them got some good licks in, but there were only about five of them between us in the door. It was the twenty-five guys thundering across the dance floor towards us that we were worried about.”
“I'll never understand men.” Susan said.
“That's because it's a testosterone thing, which you probably don't have.” He glanced over at her and smiled. “At least, you sure don't look like you have any.”
“So where are we going?” Susan asked as Brad took an off ramp, crossed over the highway and re-entered the highway going back in the direction they had come from.
“We're going to go have dinner with Armando at a nice little cafe in Carmel at 6 PM.”
“Cowboys in Carmel?” Susan asked, still thinking about Armando's story.
“No. We were in a nearby town. Armando and I were studying at the military command school in Monterey and was on a weekend pass when all that happened. It was just pure luck that those two military cops were friends of ours. MP's aren't well known for their friendly nature. Carmel is right next door and they dropped us off there, which cost us a case of beer for those two guys, but it was worth it.”
“I've always liked Carmel.” Susan said dreamily. “It's such a romantic place.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. The Monterey Cypress trees shaped by the wind on the cliffs, the seventeen mile drive. All the charming little restaurants and galleries. We'll have to go there sometime when people aren't trying to kill us.”
Susan chuckled. “Oh, Brad, you're such a romantic.”
He laughed with her. “I am a romantic.” he said defensively. “I wrote a poem once.”
“Really?” she said. “Was it a romantic poem?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
“Sort of, huh? What was it sort of about?”
“A horse.” he said hesitantly.
“Geez, Brad, you're right. You're just one romantic fool.” she said shaking her head and smiling at the same time.
They traveled in silence for a while. After some time had passed, Susan realized that they were both comfortable with it, with each other. They were comfortable with each others presence, requiring no words to hang on the empty space between them. She looked over at Brad, and he looked at her, smiled and took her hand in his on the seat between them. They drove in silence , their minds drifting over the fields of yellow grasses and highway lined with hundred year old eucalyptus trees, the nearby hills, barren of all foliage except the tall, windblown weeds that captured the breeze in flattening waves. They were silent until they reached Soledad, about half way between Paso Robles and Monterey.
“I'm curious what you have in mind for a change of tactics.” Brad said.
“Me too.” Susan responded. “Let's see what Armando has for us and then brainstorm some ideas.”
All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
No comments:
Post a Comment