Monday evening
October 10 — 7:37 p.m. EST
Harkers Island, North Carolina
They had flown low and slow. Almost three hours after Admiral Ingram left the Chinook, they were hovering over a private airport on Harkers Island. On the flight, Alex had allowed her sorrow, anger, and grief to overcome her. She was weak and wobbly when they landed. Raz helped her to her feet.
“We should take everything,” Alex said. “He’s going to . . .”
“We’ve worked it out,” Zack said, coming from the back. “Remember, we have a plan.”
“I never paid that much attention to . . .” Alex shrugged. She lifted her hands to make quotes in the air. “THE PLAN”
“It’s our life now,” Raz said.
“Hey, the full force of the US military isn’t here to greet us,” Zack said. “Let’s celebrate small victories.”
Cliff went to the tail of the plane and flicked the manual switch. The tail opened to two young men were standing next to a jeep. The taller of the two looked the spitting image of his mother, the retired intelligence officer who went by “Mammy.” He had worked in intelligence for the US Army through two tours in Iraq and one tour in Afghanistan. Although Alex didn’t know his given name, he went by the name “Grady.” He gave Alex a white-toothed grin.
The other man was smaller, built like a bird. He’d been Grady’s best friend since they were children. He went by the name “Hal.” Given that the names came straight out of a 1970s sitcom, Alex was pretty sure they weren’t their birth names.
“Strip it,” Zack said.
“Everything?” Grady asked. They looked at Alex, and she nodded.
“To regulations,” Alex said.
“Leave it to us,” Grady said. “You want it done to the rest of them?”
“Probably a good idea,” Alex said. “Can you do it? One Black Hawk is at Buckley; the other is at Pendleton. I have no idea where we left the C-130.”
“Paris,” Zack said.
“We’ll take care of it,” Grady said.
“Thank you,” Alex said.
“We put them together as modules. They’ll be easy to take apart,” Grady said.
“How long will it take?” Zack asked.
“Couple hours,” Grady said. “Did you fly over Cherry Point?”
Harkers Island was less than forty miles from Marine Air Station Cherry Point.
“Not even close,” Zack said.
“That doesn’t mean they’re not coming,” Alex said.
They walked toward the jeep Grady and Hal had stepped out of.
“Are they looking for you yet?” Grady said.
“Probably,” Raz said.
“They’ll definitely get around to missing us by tomorrow morning,” Alex said.
“Good to know,” Grady said. He nodded toward the jeep. “Go on. Mammy’s waiting dinner on you. We can get back when we’re done.”
“Thank you,” Alex said at the same time Cliff said, “Thank God.”
Laughing, Zack clapped Cliff’s back, and they walked to the jeep. Zack got in the driver’s seat.
“Alex?” Grady asked.
Getting in the back of the jeep, Alex turned to look at him.
“I was sorry to hear about your death, Alexander,” Grady said.
“You’re very hot to be some dead guy,” Hal said with a snort.
Alex smiled because Grady and Hal deserved it. But she felt only defeat. She turned back as Zack drove away. The young men were already focused on the task at hand. Grady pushed a switch, and a metal barn like structure moved to cover the plane. Alex watched them close the barn doors. If anyone decided to look, they would only see the metal barn.
Zack drove like a madman over the mixture of ancient asphalt, concrete, and dirt roads. The vehicle came to rest in front of an old plantation house. Even in October, Mammy’s rose bushes were covered in a burst of color. Mammy’s youngest son met them on the walk. He escorted them into the warm, golden-lit kitchen. Mammy took one look at Alex and told her daughter to escort Alex to bed. Before Alex could protest, Mammy’s daughter was pushing her up the wide stairway.
“You’re smaller than I am,” she said. “Do you mind wearing my clothes?”
“I should . . .” Alex shook her head.
The young woman hugged Alex. She left Alex standing in the middle of the room. She returned with a cotton nightshirt.
“Would you like some help?” Mammy’s daughter asked.
“I’ll get it,” Alex said.
“Bathroom,” the young woman said with a smile.
Alex blinked at her.
“Dad used to get like this,” the young woman laughed. “He didn’t know where he was half the time.”
Alex shook her head.
“Use the toilet,” the young woman ordered in imitation of her mother. “There’s no bath in here. But you can shower. Lather up real good. Wash off all of that shit they tried to stick on you. I’ll leave you something comfortable to wear. Get into bed. We’ll bring up food for you. Right now, you need safety and comfort.”
Alex smiled, and the young woman grinned.
“A lot of us admire you, Alex,” the young woman said. “You’ll get through this. I just know it.”
With a nod, the young woman left the room. Alex stood in place for a moment before doing what she was told — toilet, shower, change, bed. She pulled the covers over her head. Staring at the underside of the sheet, she tried to meditate.
Breathe in. What am I going to do now?
Breathe out. How am I going to fix this?
Breathe in. I CAN’T fix this!
Breathe out. I have no idea how.
Breathe in. Everyone is depending on me!
Breathe out. What am I going to do?
The thoughts circled her brain like a laurel wreath. Breathe in, worry. Breathe out, panic.
Her mind chatter continued until she heard the door open. She lay very still.
“Alex?” Raz asked. “What are you doing?”
“Meditating,” she said as she flipped off the covers.
He laughed so hard that she couldn’t help but smirk.
“I brought dinner,” Raz said. “Or what Mammy would give me for you.”
“What is it?” Alex asked.
“Comfort food. Heaven.” He shrugged. “Both are adequate descriptions. Mac and Cheese. Biscuits. Pot pie. Honey butter. Peppermint tea.”
He set the tray next to her on the bedside table. He took off his shoes and joined her in bed. He leaned up against the headboard.
“Wanna fuck?” he asked.
Alex burst out laughing. He chuckled.
“Share a biscuit?” he asked. “Did I mention the honey butter? Holy Christ, it’s so good.”
“You should go,” Alex said. “Have dinner with the others.”
“You get that fine ass of yours up to that bedroom and take care of our girl,” Raz said in imitation of Mammy. He gave her a soft look. “Frankly, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
Tears came to Alex’s eyes. Raz put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his lap. He smoothed her short hair.
“You need to grieve,” Raz said.
“Why?” Alex said. Sitting up, she threw her arms up into the air in frustration. “After last year, you should have expected this, Alex! What the fuck did you think would happen? We told you! We told you! We told you!”
She hiccupped a kind of sob. She bit her lip to keep from wailing.
“And?” Raz said in a low tone.
“I didn’t believe them,” Alex said.
“Why?”
“How do you go from desperately needed to rotten, stinking garbage?” Alex asked.
She’d cried so much in the last few hours that her words slurred as if she were drunk. He tugged on her and she dropped her head into his lap.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat and rest. There will be plenty of time for scolding tomorrow.”
“I need to follow the plan!” Alex said.
“Tomorrow,” Raz said. “All the pieces are in play tonight. Let them do their part.”
“Zack quit?” Alex asked.
“Oh, yes,” Raz said. “Cliff, too. It was . . .”
“Epic,” Alex and Raz said together in an imitation of Captain Troy Olivas’s eldest son, Hector James. They grinned.
“The commander at Pendleton has agreed to house the team,” Raz said. “They’ve moved to one of the unused outer buildings. No one’s been out there for at least a decade. The buildings are filthy and in disrepair, but the team has set to work. They are safe, at least for a while. All of our families are in private residences, so they aren’t likely to be found.”
“Good,” Alex said. “And their pay?”
“They’ll be paid next month,” Raz said. “After that, our contact in accounting said she’d look into what she can do.”
Alex gave a grim nod.
“Let it play out,” Raz said. “And you know . . .”
He sighed and looked down at her head. Feeling his eyes, she sat up.
“We’ve fought so fucking hard to be a part of this . . . thing — whatever it is,” Raz said. “Maybe it’s time to stop fighting.”
“You’re going back to fat and hairy?” Alex asked.
Raz laughed at her original assessment of him all those years ago.
“I thought it was too dangerous to have me out of the military,” Alex said.
“After today?” Raz shook his head. “I’d say let’s take our chances. We have enough money to live very comfortably for the rest of our lives. We have people to love and, by some miracle, they love us back. We have children and, God willing, more to come. We have a home, good friends, and more than enough material possessions. What else do we really need?”
“Great work?” Alex asked. “You know how you get when you don’t have a puzzle to work on.”
“After spending time with Admiral Ingram, I’d be willing to chance it,” Raz said.
“We could become private detectives,” Alex said with a grin, subtly chiding him for his addiction to Sherlock Holmes. “I’d let you be Holmes.”
“How ’bout Marlowe?” Raz asked. “You could be Charles?”
“Nick?” Alex asked brightening.
“Aren’t you a lanky brunette with a wicked jaw?” he asked.
She grinned her reply.
“I’ll call you Nora,” Raz said.
Alex laughed, and he smiled.
“And you’ll be Phillip Marlowe?” Alex asked.
“I was thinking Sam Marlowe,” Raz said with a grin.
“Ah,” Alex said. “Inspiration to Chandler and Hammett. Good thinking.”
Alex nodded. For a moment, their levity hung in the air like a cloud. He sighed. She watched strong emotions move across his face.
“When we watched the video today, I was . . . I was . . . right there,” Raz said in a hoarse whisper. “Again. I’ve thought about it — the moment of finding you — and . . . and . . . I’ve thought about it a lot. At first, I saw it every time I closed my eyes. Then, at least once a day. Lately, it comes to mind every other week or so. After a year or two, after you were back to work, the whole mess became something . . .over there. Not right here, but over there. Something that happened — like my mother’s death or 9/11 or the end of my NFL career. I learned to live with it. And I’ve watched you, helped you, dragged you, bullied you through . . . unspeakable . . .for years . . .”
“Five,” Alex said.
“Five years of running, hiding, fighting,” Raz said. “Five years of one attack after another. I’ve watched you crawl out of the blood — and shit for what? For this? To be treated like . . . by that . . . piece of garbage.”
He snorted a laugh.
“‘Negro son of an uneducated housekeeper’ my ass,” Raz said with a shake of his head. His grey eyes welled with tears. “That’s a decent description of me.”
“I . . .” Raz shook his head again. “If you ask me, I will get out of this bed, and we will go after those who have dared to come for us. But to tell you the truth? I’m done. I’m just done. I’d rather be the negro son of my amazing, wonderful, beloved uneducated housekeeper mother than . . .”
He swallowed hard and stared at the wall.
“That,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” Alex whispered. “Me, too.”
She leaned forward. In her a gesture usually reserved for her identical twin, Max, she pressed her forehead against his. She kissed his tear-stained cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For being a total fucking mess?” he asked with a wry laugh.
“For being there,” Alex said. “I am so grateful, so, so grateful, for you.”
He put his hand on the back of her head, and their foreheads pressed together again.
“I don’t know how to do it,” Alex said.
“Do what?” Raz asked.
“Quit,” Alex said.
“Maybe we start by giving up for tonight,” Raz said. “Tomorrow, we can put our armor back on, pick up our swords, and fight a new day. If we want to. Only if we want to. Maybe we wait a week or a month or a year. But tonight?”
“But tonight, we eat biscuits and pot pie,” Alex said with a smile. “The peppermint tea smells fantastic.”
“Mac and cheese looks divine,” he said.
“We need to check in,” Alex said. “John and Sami are dying to know what happened. Plus, we don’t want to miss bedtime.”
“Later,” Raz said. “After we eat.”
“We’re three hours ahead here,” Alex nodded. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” Raz said. “Did I mention the honey butter?”
Alex smiled. He wiped his face with his hands and stared at the wall again. After a moment, he glanced at her.
“If anything is worth living for, it’s got to be honey butter,” she said. “Honey from their hives.”
“Butter from their cows,” Raz said. He made the effort to grin at her. “Grady told me he made the butter this afternoon.”
She held the butter knife out to him. His eyes flicked to her face, where they lingered. She raised her eyebrows, and he gave her a genuine smile. He grabbed the butter knife from her with exaggerated effort and slathered their biscuits with honey butter. Grinning at him, Alex poured the tea.
F