69

 

HURRICANE POINT, FRIDAY NIGHT

Gwen had just returned from dinner with Lucy in Carmel when her landline rang. As she was unlocking her door, it started trilling. She hurried in, pulled the door shut, double-locked it behind her. Her new habit.

Leo was waiting for her, calmly, which meant all was well. No intruders. She ruffled his neck with one hand, grabbed the receiver with the other.

“News for you, Boudy,” boomed Dwayne in his deep voice.

“And?”

“Friend of a friend has high clearance, as in real high. Your man was in the Marines, but that’s all he could find out. Just plain vanilla stuff. Nothing at all of interest.”

“Good. That’s a relief.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Meaning?”

“Too neat, too clean, too boring. My friend reckoned his real identity had been moved to a cover identity to hide him from all but the most connected of searchers.”

“And this in turn means?”

“He was Black Ops, Boudy.”

Gwen fell silent. Did this change anything? Should it?

“You still there?” asked Dwayne.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just trying to process.”

“The dude’s retired, Boudy. Been out of it for two years.”

“OK. Still knows a hell of a lot of stuff. “

“What kind of stuff?” asked Dwayne sharply.

Gwen couldn’t tell him about the bugs. “Just stuff,” she answered.

“Fine. Move it on. So what’s your problem, Boudy?”

“I just don’t know what I’m getting into with him. I keep feeling he’s hiding things from me.”

Dwayne’s laughter boomed down the phone.

“Girl, listen up! We’re all hiding stuff! And he’s got plenty to hide that’s just plain none of your business. Not relevant. And, FYI, when did we ever know what we’re getting into when we take a roll with someone?”

“True, to a degree,” conceded Gwen.

“Cut the crap. This ain’t Stanford. This is life. You like the dude?”

Gwen paused. Like was damning him with faint praise, didn’t come close to what she felt.

“Yeah, Dwayne. I like the dude.”

“Then stop being a scaredy-cat, Boudy. Big bad, surfer girl. Go get him!”