The Colonel's Daughter (29 page)

Having left the baby in the playpen, she sat at the edge of the bed. “Well did he castle long or short? Most people castle short on the king’s side but they never develop their game on that side of the board. So it doesn’t always work to their advantage.”

“Your knowledge of chess is really turning me on right now. Come here…” He moved the laptop aside.

She slowly crawled up the bed, in her matching flannel pajamas, and rested her head under his arm.

“So tell me more about why you’re not a friend of castling?” He joked.

“Well,” she played along. “Sometimes people don’t even move their king first, which is easy to catch, they were obviously only moving their rook and not really castling…then they try to play it off but not with me, I don’t let them get away with it.”

He turned on his side and gently kissed her feeling his tongue against hers and then stopped and said in a mimicking voice, “Javi…stop…the kids.”

“Hey I didn’t say that, you’re the one stopping. There’s nothing wrong with a little kissing.”

“You like it when I kiss you?”

“I love it when you kiss me, Javi. You’re an amazing kisser.”

“Now you’re just humoring me.”

“I was honest about castling why wouldn’t I be honest about your kissing?”

He kissed her some more.

“Javi,” she tried to get his attention while he kissed her neck, “Javi?”

“See, I knew there was something bothering you…you don’t want me kissing you.”

“Why would you say that, Javi? It’s not that.” She pecked his mouth. “It’s just that there’s something I have to tell you.”

“There’s been something on your mind this whole trip and you have me guessing, Jasmine. Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong. I was giving you space to mourn the loss of your best friend. You shouldn’t suppress your grief.”

“I mourn in my own way. I’ve been mourning the loss of friends for years, Jasmine. You wanna know how many friends I’ve lost in my life time?”

“I’m sorry.”

He held her tight. “I’m sorry too.”

“Javi, we’re going to have a baby.”

Pulling away, he raised his eyebrows, “What?”

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

He held her tighter than before, in blissful rapture and humble gratitude for having been given the greatest consolation during such a painful loss. “Now I can hear your lullabies every night. I tell you, if I could go back and have your voice with me, inside me, just imagining you singing to our baby, all those years out in the sand, those lonely nights on patrol, in the spider hole…I would’ve felt so different.”

She pulled away and looked at him. “Javi, if you could go back, wouldn’t you just want to not be in any of those places? Forget about taking my voice with you.”

“No, I don’t have any regrets fighting for my country. I’d fight all over again. I’d just take your voice with me, right in here,” he pointed to his heart.

* * * * *

On the kneeler of the fourth pew at the Virgin of Guadalupe Shrine, Abby buried her face in a tissue. Grace slept bundled up in her infant carrier by her mother’s side. Wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and a helmet under his arm, he strolled up to the holy water font and removed his black gloves. He dipped his calloused fingers into the font and made the sign of the cross. Stopping short of Abby’s pew, he put down his helmet and gloves then paused to study the sleeping child. Getting on one knee beside Abby, he extended his palm as if holding his heart in his hand.

“Dallas, it’s like a miracle.” She kissed his palm, “Your heart’s been with me always. Nothing has changed.”

He grazed her cheeks with his thumbs. “You have no idea what I’ve been through just to be here, to feel you in my arms.” He held her tight then took a seat on the bench. “I extend my hand to you because, after you hear what I have to say, you may not want my heart.”

“Dallas, that’s impossible. I love you no matter what.”

“I got pretty much all of Al-Qaeda after me. I have to lay low ‘til the smoke clears, assume a new identity, I have to disappear. Just by talking to you, I’m putting you and Grace in harm’s way. But I couldn’t bear to watch you in that kind of pain anymore. I just had to tell you.”

“Take us with you, Dallas. Grace is just a baby, she doesn’t know any better. We can settle anywhere, as long as we’re together.”

“That’s the point Abby, we can’t settle. I have to be constantly on the move. What kind of life is that for you and Grace?”

Looking up at a crucifix, she gave a deep sigh. “I won’t let you go alone. Does my dad know you’re alive?”

“No, and you’re not gonna tell him either. No one can know, Abby.”

A deep voice called out, “You should’ve castled to defend.” Javi dipped the tip of his fingers in the holy water font and made a quick sign of the cross before trotting down the aisle.

“So you’re a photographer now? I didn’t peg you for CIA material, Dallas.”

“It’s not like that, Jav.”

“Then what is it, Dallas. You got us all mourning your death. For what? I actually thought I lost my best friend.”

“Dude, that guy Faisal Shahrivar sent my picture to all of Al-Qaeda around the world. I was the most wanted guy…and probably still am because from what I hear, they won’t believe I’m dead ‘til my body is found.”

“I helped you kill Shahrivar father and son. Don’t you think I have a right to know if someone’s after me and my family, Dallas?”

Upon hearing the word kill, Abby looked up at the crucifix with raised eyebrows, initially begging for mercy, then she remembered Dallas’s words after he had rescued her from the clutches of evil,
it’s not about killing it’s about protecting
and she hoped that an all knowing God would understand the circumstances.

“They’re not after you Javi. Faisal thinks it was all my doing.”

“The Colonel and I had Faisal at gunpoint, bro. Once he finds out…” He placed both hands on top of his shaved head pacing the church aisle.

“Listen Javi, I’m sorry. But, bro, you cannot tell the Colonel.” Dallas ran a hand over his crew cut scratching the top of his head then insisted, “Can I meet you some other place where we can talk?”

Taking a seat behind Abby, Javi swung both arms resting them on the top of the bench. “Sit down and talk right here. You’re not going to lie to us before God, are you?”

Dallas sat next to Abby then turned to face them both. “Look, I understand you’re upset, Jav. But I want a few minutes with my wife and daughter. Please.”

Abby, placing a hand on her husband’s back, whispered, “Let him stay Dallas. He’s just been through your funeral. It wasn’t easy on any of us. He loves you a lot.”

Dallas explained how he and Daphne Mellinger found the complex of intricate underground tunnels and how he had been shot and when he and the British journalist had made it out, she told the surgeon and everyone else around them that Dallas was her photographer. Then he explained to them how Daphne Mellinger had previously worked with the CIA and how she called the Deputy Director, and how the Deputy Director flew to meet with Dallas in London and offered him a position with the CIA and along with it a new secret identity.

Paying close attention, Javi tilted slightly forward. “Looks like your secret identity ain’t a secret no more.”

“Very funny, Jav, the reason why I made contact with you is to get you to come join me, as my partner. They’re gonna offer you a job.”

Abby protested. “What about my sister?”

“You can bring your family into protected custody if you want to or if they want to.”

“Jasmine’s not going to want to leave the beach house, I’m sure of it.” Javi sighed.

“She doesn’t have to, Javi. She can stay where she is. Trust me, bro.”

Javi thought about it for a moment then smiled. “I see you’re driving a motorcycle now. What happened to always choosing a pick-up truck?”

“It’s my new identity, brother.”

“Alright, I’m in.” Javi stood up and shook his hand. “I still think its messed up you made me go through your entire funeral not knowing.”

Abby interjected, “Maybe you should go talk about it with my sister first.”

Javi cupped the palms of his hand over his face and tilting his head back he sighed. “You’re right. I need to talk to my wife.”
She’s having my baby
, he thought. Javi left with his head hung low thinking about what to say to Jasmine.

Dallas turned to Abby and stared at his wife’s beautiful round breasts. He was feeling guilty for doing so while inside the church, but he had so much guilt over everything else, that he repeatedly said the words,
have mercy on me
in his mind. He continued to stare at his wife, longing for her to ease his anxiety. If he could only hear her tell him once more,
as long as we’re together.

Abby took a deep breath and spoke. “Does this mean that Grace and I will be in protected custody?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Are you ok with this?”

“Well it isn’t going to be easy you know.”

“Believe me Abby I had to watch my family bury me.” He gulped holding in the frog in his throat. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And yet, I’ve taken men’s lives and what if they’ve had to watch their funeral, maybe not here on earth like I did…but…” He stammered. “I’m so messed up right now.” He brought her hand to his face as it turned bright red, and he couldn’t hold his tears back any longer.

“So where do we go from here?” She caressed his face.

“We’ll just have to take it day by day.” He lifted his chin and sat upright and thought,
don’t be a punk
. And he could hear the Colonel’s voice in his head, “Cut the namby pamby shit, Lieutenant.” He stood up, took her hand and called her a cab, sending her to meet him at his hotel room.

While the baby slept peacefully in her carrier, he made love to his wife. He was rougher than he had ever been.

She wanted him so bad that she reciprocated, and the flames that ravaged on that bed would have set the entire building ablaze.

* * * * *

In a South Beach Ocean Walk café sitting at a round table, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Dallas and Javi amused their guest, Gary Simms Deputy Director of the CIA, with one of their usual arguments.

“Say what you wanna say about my name at least it’s simple enough to change. You’ve got like twenty last names bro,” Dallas smirked, “Isn’t it…uh…Santos Gomez Taco Burrito Nachos Quesadilla?”

“You still haven’t learned my name dude? How did you ever graduate West Point?” Javi, who had been reviewing a packet of papers bound together, looked up at Dallas narrowing his eyes. “As a courtesy to Gary here, I’m going to not kick your ass…and I’m going to nicely tell you my name. This time get it straight, brother. It’s Javier de Jesus Santos Gomez Mendoza Gonzalez.”

Unable to keep a straight face, Dallas showed a short rough growth of beard masking his dimples. The waitress approached, and with a flirtatious smile, she placed an ice-cold beer in front of Dallas then slid two more on the table.

With a beer in hand, Dallas pointed. “One of those is for you Gary.”

“None for me guys, you know I’m on official business.” Gary Simms had been Deputy Director of the CIA for years. He was tall and being in his late fifties the way he filled the collar shirt, he appeared extremely fit and much younger in his designer single-breasted suit.

Javi, looking sharp in his coat and red tie, grabbed a pen and signed the paperwork. Handing over the stack of pages, he glanced one last time at the letters SAD (Special Activities Division) that appeared at the top of the first page.

Clearing the documents off the table, Gary placed his black briefcase at his side and leaned forward in a low voice. “Here’s your
need to know
,” placing an elbow on the round table, “The two of you are going into Iran. Our political action group has been working to collect information on the officials connected to Shahrivar’s money and the Taliban. You’ll be receiving the names and profiles of those officials. You guys are a key component to getting Faisal Shahrivar.”

Javi put his beer down and interjected. “Listen, Gary, I had that son-of-a-bitch in custody and he walked. What kind of—”

“Now wait a minute,” Gary waved his hand to stop Javi. “We needed Faisal free.”

Javi stood with a jolt rattling the table. “I fucking knew it.”

“Calm down, Javi. Relax bro.” Dallas put a hand to his shoulder.

Gary stood and tossed some money on the table, “Let’s take a walk,” then grabbed his briefcase.

The three walked along the boardwalk overlooking the ocean. “I expected you to react this way, Captain Santos. I also know that you understand that we are working to stop the financing of terrorism.”

“Of course I understand what your goal is Gary. I don’t agree with the method.” Javi crossed his arms while continuing to walk.

“You want the truth, Captain Santos?” He paused and leaned against the wooden boardwalk guardrail. “I’m not very happy. We’ve been getting minimal results. I want more results and you two are just the men I need to shake things up out there.”