The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (18 page)

“Hi, Jake,” Beverly, the waitress, said as she got to his
table. “Haven't seen you in a while. Been okay?”

“A little under the weather, Bev. How 'bout you?”

“Same-oh, same-oh. What can I get for ya?”

“Just ice water and lemon; I'm meeting someone later.”

“Comin' right up. Nice shirt; bright red looks good on ya.”

As Beverly headed back inside, Jake pulled out his notebook and a
copy of Machiavelli's “The Prince” and picked up reading
where he'd left off, occasionally jotting some notes.

When Beverly came back with his drink, she noticed the book and said,
“Ooooo, I read that back in college. Scary guy, huh?”

“By today's standards, yup. But back then, he made a lot of
sense.”

“But executing all your enemies?”

“Sometimes. But again, that was centuries ago. And that was
way before the French Revolution and the guillotine. “

“Oh, yeah. Hey, my new boyfriend told me a guillotine joke.
Wanna hear it?”

“Sure.”

“Okay; I hope I can remember it. Okay; here goes. They're
bringing three at a time up to the guillotine; this group is a
priest, a drunk and an engineer. They tell the priest he's got a
choice: face up or face down. He says, 'I want to see where I'm
going, so face up.' He lies down, face up, and they pull the blade up
and let it go. But it stops four inches above his throat. The crowd
yells, 'It's a miracle, a miracle,' so they let him go.

“The drunk is next, gets the same choice, but he just falls
over with his face down in the block. They pull the blade up, let it
go, and it stops four inches above his neck. So they let him go, and
he staggers off and passes out behind some bushes.

“The engineer is next, and he chooses face up. He lies down,
they pull the blade up and he says … let me make sure I've got
this right … he says, 'Oh, wait; I see the problem.'”

Jake laughed and Beverly beamed.

“Did I tell that okay?”

“You did just fine, Bev, just fine,” Jake said, giving
her an okay sign. “I'll add that to my repertoire. So did you
meet the new guy on that online dating service, MisterRightForYou dot
info?”

”Yup.”

“Do you think this guy is your Mr. Right?”

“Well, so far he's Mr. Tolerable. “

“You're a beauty, Bev; I'm sure you'll do fine.”

“Thanks, Jake; I needed that.”

Beverly beamed again and headed back into the restaurant. Jake made
some notes, glanced around the lanai again, then went back to his
book and his notes.

About 11:30, Jake saw Pam coming out from the restaurant. Her hair
was loose, she was wearing denim shorts and a light blue Fishbuster
Charters T-shirt (“They Hatch 'Em, We Catch 'Em”), and
had the cataract surgery sunglasses on again. All the male heads
turned to follow her. She saw Jake, walked right over to him, pulled
off her sunglasses, gave him another peck on the cheek and sat down
across from him, smiling broadly.

“Hi, Jake.”

“Hey, Pam.”

“Sorry I missed you last weekend.”

“I was a little under the weather,” Jake said, looking
closely at her. “So what's the good news?”

“You're clear; I got Chaney off your back, at least
officially.”

“Chaney, your CYA-ing boss?”

“Ex-boss now; he's been suspended and I've been reinstated.
And I've put in for retirement as of the end of this month.”

“And he's off my back? That's a relief. I've been on edge,
maybe even paranoid since you left last time.”

“I can understand that, but now you can ease up some, I think.”

“Okay. Now tell me the whole story. Last I knew, you were
suspended and that asshole was pissed off at you and maybe coming
after me.”

“Right. So when I got back to DC that night, I called his boss
and told her the whole story, sent her copies of my video of our
conversation and my objections; remember, I'd logged those.”

“Yup.”

“Well, she set up a meeting with me for Tuesday after she met
with Chaney on Monday. And I gave her a full sworn and notarized
statement, with copies of my objections and his diagram.”

“Of where to put those Marines.”

“Right.

“And we got a few anonymous videos of the whole thing, from the
time I walked up to you until I left in the helicopter. And another
showed Norm using his drill, with some resistance at one point; we
think that's when he hit Danuski's neck.”

“Oh, geez; I remember him doing that, but I had no idea what
that was. That was the one named Ron, right?”

“Right. Your memory is better than you think, I guess.”

“Hell, I've seen him being dug up a lot in my dreams since
then.”

“Me, too.”

“And that other guy pointing his gun at Norm, yelling at him.”

“Oh, Babcock.”

“What was with him?”

Pam paused and crinkled her brow. “They were lovers.”

Jake's eyebrows rose. “Gay?”

“Yup. Babcock and Hunsucker had been together for a few years,
and Danuski was trying to break them up.”

“Really?”

“Really. Used to call them Hun-Bab.”

“Hun-Bab?”

“Right.

“Anyhow, after seeing all that stuff, she called my boss in and
tore him a new one, since he'd placed all the blame on me. And she
reinstated me and gave him a two-month unpaid suspension, mainly for
lying to her on the previous day.”

“So why didn't you tell me that back then?”

“Because he appealed, and that took some time, until Mark, the
director, cut that off and affirmed my reinstatement and his
suspension. That was last Thursday, a week ago. And on Friday
night, I headed down here to surprise you on the beach.”

“Damn; wish I'd been there.”

“Me, too. So are you feeling better now? You said something
about some stitches?”

“Separate issue. Last weekend I had some kind of flu, I think,
four days in bed; couldn't even get any writing done, just a few
notes here and there. And the stitches, day before yesterday; did
some pretty klutzy things, got some cuts on my shoulder and thigh,
and had to get a tetanus shot.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Yup, makes it a little uncomfy to sit the wrong way.”

“The stitches?”

“No, the shot; he gave it in my butt,”

“Not in the arm? I thought that's where they give 'em.”

“Really? I thought that doc was kind of a sadist.”

“Oh, yeah; had a few of those myself. The stories I could
tell.”

“I can only imagine. Maybe someday I can pick your brain for
some inside info from your time in the Service.”

Pam smiled demurely. “Maybe someday you can, but not now;
after I retire, that's a definite maybe. Could probably fill a
book.”

“I'll cross my fingers.”

“It's only three weeks away.”

Just then, Beverly came out of the restaurant, saw Pam and came right
over.

“What can I get for you, ma'am?”

Pam thought for a moment, then said, “Can you do a cranberry
Mimosa?”

“Sure 'nuff. Jake?”

“I'll have a white zin, and no, I'm not gay.”

“Oh, Jake, you always say that,” Beverly said, laughing.

“And, Bev, can you bring us some menus? You want to have
lunch, right, Pam?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Be right back.” Beverly headed back to the restaurant.

“Do you really always say that?”

“Yup. It cuts off a common reaction with a joke; something I
call joke-jitsu. And I really just like white zin.”

“Not an oenophile, huh?”

“A what?”

“Sorry. A wine connoisseur.”

“Far from it. And I really don't drink much.”

“Hmm.”

“In fact, that T-shirt you're wearing?”

“It's not mine; I found it in the condo I'm using, kind of
liked the name.”

“Oh. Anyway, Marti and Captain Dave are friends of mine.
That's how she pronounces her name, Mart-eye, long I. They live over
on the Imperial River, and I've gone to their boat parade party the
last two Decembers, and she kids me about bringing a bottle of
strawberry zin along, calls it my limeade. She actually uses a
different word, one that starts with a K, but that's trademarked, so
I had to make it 'limeade.' I take it home and finish it off around
August. I've still got about a third of it in my fridge from last
December.”

“It doesn't go bad?”

“Not that I can tell. But then I'm not a – what was that
word?”

“Oenophile.”

“I can probably use that.” He made a note.

“No, Jake, it's o-e-, not e-e.”

“Oh, thanks.” He made the correction, just as Beverly
returned with their drinks and menus.

“I brought you some ice water and lemon, too, ma'am, and
another for you, Jake. And here's the menus.”

“Thanks, Bev. Oh, Bev, this is Pam.”

“Hi, Pam. Nice to meetcha.”

“Hi, Bev. Same.”

“Hey, Bev, you got a blonde joke for Pam?”

“Hmmm. Okay, here's one. What's a brunette's mating call?”
She paused, looked around quickly. “'Have all the blondes
left?'”

Pam cracked up. “Oh, I love that one.”

Jake laughed, too. “Another good one from the fabulous Bev.”

Bev beamed and bowed. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

Pam said, “And that's a damned good Elvis impression, too.”

Bev looked at Pam and said, “Thank you, thank you very much,
ma'am.”

Pam said, “Oh, no, thank YOU very much, Bev; I'll definitely
get some use outa that one. Made my day.”

“Cool. Let me know when you're ready to order, okay?”

“Okay.”

As Bev walked away, Pam inadvertently (or was it advertently?)
brushed Jake's forearm with hers as she reached for a menu, and then
asked him, “So what's good here, Jake?”

-29-

Thursday, December 15, 2011

2:30 p.m.

The Oval Office

Washington, DC

The four union presidents followed Emily, Donne's chief of staff,
into the Oval Office. Emily carried four sheets of paper over to
Donne at his desk, handed them to him and whispered in his ear.
Donne looked at her, then at the four standing in front of his desk.

“Gentlemen, I understand you have objections to signing these
releases, correct?”

They all nodded, but stayed silent.

“You need to answer aloud, for the record.

“Richard?”

“Yes, I object.”

“Bob?”

“I object.”

“Andy?”

“I object.”

“Lee?”

“Me, too.”

“Then I have no time to listen to you. Good day, gentlemen.

“Emily, please show them out.”

“Follow me, gentlemen, please.”

Richard objected first, “But, Mr. --”

“Gentlemen, you heard me. Please leave now.” Donne
spoke it quietly but forcefully. “That is a direct order.”

All four stood their ground, until Donne stood up, all five feet five
inches of him, and strode over to them, looking up at each in turn.

“Richard, leave now. Bob, leave now. Andy, leave now. Lee,
leave now.”

Again, all four stayed put.

“Emily, get the guards in here and arrest these four gentlemen
for trespassing and contempt.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.” She stepped out.

Again, Richard spoke up. “You can't --”

Donne cut him off. “Actually, Dickie-boy, I can. You four
will be held in our basement cellblock for seven days,
incommunicado.”

Lee turned to the door and spluttered, “Sir, I will --”

Donne whispered, “Too late, Lee.”

The door opened and four security guards entered, followed by two
Secret Service agents. Donne moved back and leaned on the front edge
of his desk.

“Escort these gentlemen to the cells in the basement. Seven
days incommunicado. But treat them well, feed them well and give
them appropriate sleeping gear. Thank you.”

As the guards took the four men into custody, handcuffing them and
confiscating their phones, Donne said, “Emily, please put out
an immediate press release, Type 3, with these four gentlemen's names
in the appropriate blanks. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.”

The guards escorted the four out of the Oval Office through a
different door from the one through which they had entered. Once the
door had closed, Donne looked at Emily and shrugged sadly.

“Geez, Emily, I hated doing that. But I figured those four
would be the first to try.”

“Yup, Gordy. I thought so as soon as they came in.”

“Well, let's see if that gives us the result we want.”

“Hope so.”

“Now, send copies of Directives 127 and 241 down to the four of
'em, and then --”

“And then we play it like Munich, right?”

Donne smiled. “You are good, Emily. But not till Monday.”

“C'mon, Gordy; I know how your mind works after all these
years. Four-day wait.”

“But even if they fall for it, we'll probably have
demonstrators outside tonight, so alert the Secret Service and pull
in some soldiers per Directives 204 to 209. Full audio and video,
containment nets, but no live ammo.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you'll probably want to bunk here tonight.”

Emily smiled. “Absolutely, sir.”

“And Harry and Julie, too, if you want.”

“Nope; they're still back in Macon with their dad and stepmom.”

“Ah, that should be okay, then.

“What's next?”

“Nothing till three; that's the Cardinal from Rome.”

Donne frowned and drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Well,
that should be interesting. Thanks, Emily.” He returned to his
chair and picked up a stack of papers; Emily headed back to the outer
office.

-30-

Five Months Earlier

Saturday, July 9, 2011

11:55 a.m.

Bonita Springs, FL

“Mmmmmm!!!! Pam moaned. “Ohhh, that's positively
orgasmic! Oh, oh, ohhhhhhhh!”

Jake smiled and said quietly to himself, “Wait for it.”

Pam continued moaning, smiling at Jake.