Chapter 10

I welcomed Dean back with a hug and introduced him to everyone, telling him he had just missed Neville. Dean had already met him of course, at the first meeting with the studio before we went to Vancouver. He had met Lisa too but hadn’t met Gwen, nor had he met Michael O’Day from Rook and I could tell Dean’s spider-sense was tingling.

When I told him how glad I was to have him back and he patted me on the back with his return hug, I knew the jig was up, He felt me tense up and was backing away, his hand on his gun while he surveyed everyone in sight.

“Okay, Jack. Spill it” he ordered. I could tell how tense he was and the last thing I needed was Dean getting defensive.

“This is going to take a while, Dean, so let’s get inside, out of the sun, and get some drinks okay?”

Once we were inside and everyone was sitting, more or less comfortably, I began with the day he left and headed to Seattle.

“The company that Dave suggested sent a guy, but he showed up drunk and on drugs. Terry is messengering me copies of his autopsy and the police report so we will be able to tell what he was on...”

“Autopsy? What the hell, Jack?” Dean interrupted, but I help up a hand and he settled.

I went through the attack, step by step, taking him through it from my decision to close the door until the cops released me. I told him about having Terry dig into the company and about what Dave had said. I moved on to Terry filing the complaint on my behalf and them blowing him off, and my orders to file the lawsuit.

Once I was done explaining about the new security outfit, and reintroducing the Rook contingent, I told him about my trip to New York City.

The battle outside of LAX, the assault by the cops on me and on Gwen, those got Dean’s hackles up again and, at the end, I could already tell that those fuckers at Global were in for a world of shit.

Dean sat there silently for two or three minutes, the rest of us feeling uneasy at the tension radiating from him. Then, with an audible sigh, he twisted his head around on his neck to release tension and I could hear the pops and cracks from where I was sitting.

“You did good, all things considered, but you should have called me. I am your primary, I am in charge of your security and it is my responsibility, damn it. I could have left there after the first twenty-four hours. The shortage was short-term and I only stayed to help lead a strike with the FBI and Homeland against a mosque.” He sighed and held up a hand.

“You did good. You did like we trained and you couldn’t know what was up in Seattle. It sounds like you even hired a good team, if someone who got shot because of you is still here, visiting on her off time.” He said with a grin at Gwen.

I had been with Gwen for a little more than a week and she was a fun person, but there was always some reserve in her eyes, hesitation in her words. Yet here she sat, her top unbuttoned partially and showing her badly bruised chest, looking at Dean as though he gave milk or something. I hadn’t known her long but never dreamed I would see her act like that, or even look at anyone with anything other than professional interest. Frankly, it was fascinating!

I guess Michael O’Day saw it too, the way he was looking back and forth between then, a badly disguised grin on his face.

“Dean, Mr. O’Day is a team leader and has taken over for Gwen while she heals up.”

“Actually, I have an entire team within three minutes of the boat at the moment, just keeping an eye on things. Now that Gunny Miller is back, I can wait with the team on the shore if you like, Jack.”

“I am shoving off and getting the hell away from the shore no matter what, so if you want to stay, you are welcome. If not, hit the bricks, land-lubber, we got places to be!” I joked.

“I’ll jump ship then, Captain Bligh, and arrange tighter security for when you can come back.” He said after a moment’s thought, shaking my hand, then speaking quietly with Gwen for a moment. Lastly, he spoke with Dean before heading to the boarding ladder.

Once he was ashore and we had cast off, it took almost an hour to wend our way out of the marina and into the open water again. We were comfortably offshore in another hour and I could feel the tension bleeding away. I was where I felt safest, out on my boat, on the open water, and I had a fleeting thought that maybe I could build a boat big enough to live out here full time!

For the first forty-eight hours there was no talk of serious topics allowed, much to Dean’s disgust. He wanted to interrogate me about everything that had happened during his absence, but I wasn’t having it. I wanted to unwind and I spent most of my days on the fly bridge, picking at that guitar and probably sucking at it, but enjoying it and thinking about Cade.

I felt just a touch of melancholy, a bit of ‘woe is me’, but mostly I was grateful. She had been honest and open and loving and very up front about her emotions. It had touched something inside of me, some hurt I hadn’t hidden away deep enough, one I might not have even realized I had. She had touched it and smoothed it, getting rid of the jagged edges and leaving a little tender spot that wanted ... more.

Surprisingly, Lisa helped. She was good at drawing me out, getting me to talk about the past. We had left off on the day I had moved into my house in the Keys. I told her about buying the car and Dean’s truck, how I wanted something fun but nothing that really stood out. I had wanted to be just a high-school kid that no one knew anything about. I told her about the visit to the psychologist, how I had a real issue with my own body, its perfectly natural reactions and about the fears and issues I had with sex back then.

That led to the story of the woman whose wrist I broke, an action I still regret to this day. I told her about her fears for her daughter, about learning of the other missing children and how that tore at me, touching something deep inside that cried out for vengeance.

I told her about calling Jake and speaking to Dave, Jake’s head of security and one of the few men, beyond Jake and Dean, who I felt I could really trust. I told her about hiring some men, a security team to scour the keys, to dig into every shadow, every nook and cranny. To bribe, threaten, spy ... whatever it took. When I got to the part about them finding the girls, about our assault on the little air strip, I left out my cold-blooded murder of the Cuban facilitator. I told her about returning the girls to their families and about my psychologist rescuing me from having to babysit at the hospital. She laughed at the little girl eating powdered donuts while practically sitting in my lap out in front of the hospital.

We went over what the information security teams had uncovered and how they had reported it to the locals, the Coast Guard and the feds. The resulting takedown was well covered in the news, but I told her I would ask Burt to go over it from the government’s point of view some time. We quit for the day at that point, I was talked out and emotionally, a bit raw after reliving those scenes in my head.

Gwen, the minx, managed to get Dean to rub his secret lotion on her bruises. No, not that, you pervert. It really was a secret and I wasn’t allowed to tell a soul on fear of pain, lots and lots of pain. Heh.

It was Bag Balm! Bag Balm, the stuff the farmers use on cow titties when they got sore and chapped! I laughed so hard the first time I saw the jar that he threw me in the pool. When I got out, still laughing, he threw me in the canal! I had to swim over and climb the ladder near the Emancipation Key.

Since then, he would put it in an unmarked jar but, jokes aside, it did work pretty well, as well as anything, I guess, on bruises.

Then again, the way those two were getting along at the end of the second day, maybe it was some other secret sauce!

On the third day, Gwen, Dean and I sat down and talked, in detail, about what had happened. Lisa was watching and scribbling notes, even chipping in with part of the story where the guy had kicked the door down. She blushed furiously when she admitted she had piddled. Just a little.

The week in New York pissed Dean off, though he denied it. I think he hated that he was gone during the attack but hated even more that I had hared off across the country without him and with a security team he knew nothing about. I swear, I could hear his teeth grinding from my spot on the sofa.

When I admitted that I hadn’t been very observant, he dug until I admitted that my time with Cade and Kate in NYC had been a lot of fun but, even more important, had opened my eyes. When I explained my realization, how instead of pouting like after Cam, the ladies maturity had ignited a desire for more, for company and companionship. Real companionship. Dean actually smiled and nodded.

Then he proceeded to tear long, bloody strips off my hide for my actions during the attack. He explained, in great detail, every thing I had done wrong from the ignominious beginning of daydreaming instead of being alert, to the ‘questioning‘ of the suspect without back up or at least some sort of recorder, like the phone in my pocket. He really got incensed when I didn’t even call Jake, Dave, the Judge, Burt ... I called my Hollywood contract lawyer who was a hundred.

I let him go until he wound down and got it out of his system. When he was done, and looking a little embarrassed at his outburst, I just spread my arms wide and said, “I missed you too, Dean. Hug?”

You know what? His leg is healed just fine and he can run as fast as ever too. Not that I could really get away from him out at sea. The water felt surprisingly nice, though I lost yet another pair of sunglasses, never to be seen again.

Sometimes I wonder if losing your sense of humor is a sign of advanced senility. Dean is getting older. You know what? When I asked him that very question, he proved my point by throwing me overboard again!

Once we had that out of our systems, we got back into our routine of working out in the morning. We would hit the tiny gym on the lower level and run a couple of miles on the treadmill, then lift. Then it was on deck for Tai Chi and, with some roll-out pads for the deck, we could even spar in the shadow of the Escape Clause, my Chris Craft yacht tender.

After showers and breakfast, I would sit with Lisa for a while and regale her with tales of my perfectly normal high school ... you know, except when I told her about the Maddy II, about meeting Mr. Mercier, the man who used to be the head of the NSA? Her eyes were wide with surprise and a little awe, I am willing to bet. Not many high school kids can claim to meet a Presidential Security Advisor in person!

We managed to get through the pirate attack when Dean and I brought her home, and how proud I was to get her back after the repairs, good as new and renamed. She was the Emancipation Key, and I laughed about how the owner of the boat shop, Roberto, had assumed it was a joke about being free of work or something. When I explained about my emancipation, how I was able to be legally an adult at fifteen, Lisa just shook her head. She said she had heard of it, but usually it was a child star with bad parents, not a millionaire orphan. I told her all about my classes out at the Coast Guard base and how I had managed to make friends with several of the men who were stationed there.

Day four we got recalled to the shore, much to the obvious disappointment of all the folks on the E2. I think Dean and Gwen had come to some sort of understanding, while Lisa was disappointed because we had gotten a lot done during this break. I was just having fun relaxing and being away from the troubles ashore! I didn’t seem to be progressing very fast on the guitar, but it was relaxing sitting there strumming along with music I knew on the stereo.

Rook had placed men around the area where my boat was usually docked and had managed to pick up another three Global men. Dean, evidently, had called in some help and Rook turned them over to the marshal’s who, along with a certain federal judge in Austin, were very interested in why a PMO, a Private Military Organization with government contracts, was attacking a US citizen on American soil.

Imagine my surprise (this is sarcasm here, pay attention!) when we pulled in, to see Dave, Jake, Liz and Deb standing on the dock! A round of backslapping and hugs, even a kiss on the cheek from Deb, followed the introductions. Lisa was practically quivering in her sandals to have three more of the people she knew were involved. She made such sad puppy-dog eyes at me that I had to pull the folks aside and ask them to give her some time while they were here. No names, dates or places, but events in general terms were okay, as were their insights into the ‘whys‘ and ‘hows‘ to help her flesh out her story.

Gwen had to head back into town, but she gave Dean a nice kiss before she left and gave me a wink as she passed. Cheeky monkey!

The rest of us, Lisa included, gathered in the big salon.

“Jack, I know you can take care of yourself and you have proved that, but Dave felt partially responsible since he recommended these jackals, and then Judge Kenny contacted me as well. I know you are surprised to see us here, but...” he had to pause to wait for the laughter to die down. He even pretended he didn’t know what we found amusing.

“It seems that group you are having troubles with, Global, have already been under investigation by the AG and the DOD. The problems they had a few years ago with fraudulent billing have expanded and now they are suspected of importing opium from over there and selling arms to the terrorists or anyone else with money.” Jake told us.

“Dave, were you able to find out anything about this Colonel Brand guy? The Rook folks say that they can’t even verify he was in the service.”

“They were looking in the wrong place. The man is a South African mercenary, did a few years in the Belgian Paras, was cashiered for gunning down a civilian who was in his way, then joined up with a mercenary group headquartered in Tunisia, of all places. A mix of nationalities and training, with ex-soldiers from a dozen countries. Mostly they hire out to whatever African warlord pays the most that week.”

“How the hell did a merc even get permission to be in the states, much less take over a PMO with government contracts. Have those idiots at the puzzle palace completely lost their minds?” Dean asked, throwing his hands in the air.

“Puzzle palace?”

“Pentagon, Jack. There are a bunch of rings and levels and basements ... easy to get lost. Even easier to get lost in the byzantine political maze of alliances and shifting loyalties. The term originally was coined for the NSA, but some think it fits the Pentagon even better. Hell, some call it Fort Fumble!” Dave explained, making his opinion of the place evident.

“Judge Kenny said he didn’t know, but he had spoken to the AG’s office and Justice is putting some top men on it.” Jake said with a shrug. “He thinks that Terry filing that half a billion-dollar lawsuit must have come at a particularly bad time. Maybe it is an internal power struggle or maybe something else is going on that the lawsuit threatens, but the word is that half the troops they had in the field on various contracts have been recalled. This is making everyone nervous.”

“So, what the...” I paused, blushing when Liz raised an eyebrow. I was going to have to find a new trick, everyone was better at that than me, damn it. “Why are you travelling with just Dave and Deb? They are both awesome, but you came here, where they have already attacked me? I would ... I don’t know what I would do if either of you got hurt because of me.”

“Judge Kenny asked me to do this, Jack. He said that even he could see how independent you were getting. Headstrong was the word he used. He wants you to go into protective custody. How would you like to see historic Camp David?”

Wait, what? Camp David was a presidential retreat. Why ... how would that even be possible?

“And I suppose that the president is going to invite me to play golf too?” I asked sarcastically.

“Jack, just listen before you pass judgement,” Liz admonished me, wagging her finger in my direction.

With a blush, I nodded and apologized. “Sorry, Jake, Liz. I guess I am more on edge than I thought. Why in the world would I be at Camp David? Why would the president even be involved in something like this?”

Jake snorted and shook his head. “He’s not. He has been in office four years now and hasn’t set foot there, though I have never heard why. The GAO was even talking about shutting it down, turning it into a tourist attraction because of all the presidents who have spent time there, all the meetings with foreign dignitaries. No, the AG said they could stash you there, that they had in the past, and even if the president changed his mind and flew there, you would be kept completely separate and he wouldn’t even know you were there if he didn’t ask.”

“And I would do what there, exactly? Nature walks? Parcheesi? Jake, you know me better than that. Why do they want me in custody, because of the troops this merc guy is bringing home? Is he afraid he will be sending out his own army on US soil? Isn’t that treason or something? Surely the government would not allow that sort of thing?”

Dean and Dave both looked a little uneasy, but neither of them spoke. Deb, on the other hand, had her professional poker face in place and when she did that, I couldn’t read her at all.

“What are you guys not saying?”

Dean and Dave exchanged glances and Dave nodded to Dean.

“Jack, PMOs have been given extraordinary latitude by the government, including immunity from prosecution for activities assigned to them by the government. There have been incidents of government operatives using PMO resources to carry out activities in the US. The PMO is covered and the government stooge is a patsy who can be disavowed ... it’s real Mission Impossible stuff, like you would see in some cheesy action movie, but real people end up dead.”

“And yet, we keep using PMOs why?”

“Plausible Deniability, Jack. ‘Oh, sorry! We didn’t know our naughty non-employee contractors slaughtered an entire village to get one bomb maker. We’ll be sure to not contract with them again.’” Dave said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“So, our government hires these people, uses them like that, but now wants me to hide away because what, exactly. They can’t stop them? Don’t want to stop them? Yet they want me to trust them to protect me from people they hired. You have got to be joking! I am no genius, but I am not a moron either.” I fumed, glaring at everyone and no one. I wasn’t mad at them, just ... mad.

“We can bring in men, but you can’t stay here. You can’t stay on the E squared or in any property that is currently registered to your companies. We would need to find a place where you could lay low, where we could protect you. If you are not going to take the government’s offer of protection, then we need to make plans, and now, not later.” Dave said, making sure everyone understood that this was not optional.

“Jack, when does the Phillipe II make its maiden voyage?” Dean asked, the sudden change in topic confusing me for a minute.

“Um, they were doing work-ups when I left, that’s what, two weeks ago? Depending on what the find, what needs to be fixed, replaced or worked on, they could be done soon and ready to leave, according to what Martin said.

“And it is already owned by the sheik, right? Even though the maiden voyage will be with Martin’s people?”

“And Martin, I believe. He and Phillipe were going to sail her to Hawaii.”

“And he invited you to go with him, be a plank owner.”

“Yeah, so?”

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Think, Jack. A Saudi bought the new yacht and it was built by a company you only own what, maybe a ten percent share of these days? It is a minor holding in your multi-billion-dollar empire. I doubt they would make the connection and even if they did, how are they going to get to you on a yacht, in the middle of the ocean? These PMOs are ground troops, they don’t have fighters or bombers.”

I looked around and saw approval or, at least, no disapproval, of the idea.

“Let me call Martin.”

Martin was understandably surprised to hear from me. He was, he estimated, just three days from being ready to take the new ship, already renamed the ‘أربع رياح‘ or the ‘Four Winds’ in English, on her maiden voyage. The Saudi businessman was in Hawaii, at a resort he had recently purchased, and was awaiting the arrival of his new toy. He said he would be glad to have me aboard, and even extended the welcome to Lisa and, of course, Dean, though he said that was about all unless we were bunking together in crew quarters.

I guess that settled that.

“We’ll drop you off in Portland when we leave, Jack, so don’t worry about that.” Jake said, and Liz just nodded thoughtfully.

“Lisa, I presumed when I shouldn’t have. You do want to go along, right? I know I have a contract with the studio and just assumed you would be coming with me. You don’t have to, you know, nothing in that contract says you have to put yourself in danger being close to me. We can continue our talks via email or on the phone.”

Lisa just smiled at me and ... damn her, arched one eyebrow perfectly.

I had to find a new bit!

“Jack, there is one more bit of business and one more reason I came down. We are having dinner with Virginia Phelps, she is a Central District federal judge. Judge Kenny and that new kid, sorry, new judge, Henry Isles, the one who took Arturo’s seat? They both called ahead and asked for a favor.”

No matter how I tried, he wasn’t telling why we were meeting with a judge, but no one else seemed too exorcised about it so I figured it couldn’t be too bad, right? Right?

Dressed in one of my London suits, as I mentally cataloged them, I was glad that I had quit growing and kept up with my exercises. I had been getting new suits just about every year for a while, and this was the second year I have worn the same suit! That was a milestone or something, I was sure.

Judge Virginia Phelps was pushing retirement age herself, so was a contemporary of my old friend and acting godfather, Arturo Ramirez. While I doubted that every federal judge knew every other one, there were not so many of them that they wouldn’t have had at least a passing acquaintance. She was spritely for her age, and had clear, intelligent eyes that seemed to miss very little.

When the butler or major domo or whatever (what really is the difference, anyway?) opened the door to her palatial home in Malibu, she was there to greet us. She shook hands with us, holding on to mine for a moment while she stared up into my eyes. She seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for because she nodded her head, once, and turned to greet Dean, Dave and Deb.

“Come in, won’t you? Let’s have a drink before dinner and get acquainted, shall we?”

Once we were all seated in a very sumptuous library, Judge Phelps took the reins.

“So, you are Daniel Jackson McCoy then? You look different than I had imagined, though I have a recent description of you. Your eyes are much older than your face is, Jack. I think you have seen more than your share of the bad things in life, that is certain, and there is sadness in your eyes.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, and since she was speaking directly to me, it wasn’t as if I could turn to Jake for advice either!

“Jake once told me that we are the sum of our experiences, both good and bad. Some claim we decide for ourselves what experiences shape us and mold us. I am not too sure I agree, though, I think some experiences mold us no matter what we wish.” I said, taking a sip from the scotch I had been served.

She nodded but didn’t reply, turning instead to Jake.

“Mister Reilly, I thought your name sounded familiar so I had my clerk check. You stood before my bench once, about thirty years ago. You were being sued by a wildcatter who thought that he should get a bigger cut, despite signing a contract that stated otherwise.”

Jake looked surprised, then stared at the judge intently. I could tell he was trying to remember, he always did this little tap-tap-tap with his forefinger when he was deep in thought. I thought of it like a metronome, tick-tick-ticking out the beat of his thoughts.

“That was in Barstow?” he asked hesitantly, then nodded. “It was. He was flat broke but thought for sure he had found sign, needed someone to finance the whole thing. I paid through the nose and we got lucky, a half dozen good wells. One in particular had some serious pressure and he thought that my seventy-five percent was too much, wanted to renegotiate after the fact.”

“Very good, Mister Reilly! You are still as sharp as ever. That explains how you could talk the AG into this...” she trailed off, waving one hand as if trying to find the right word.

“It is necessary, Your Honor. You have heard his story, I am sure, Arturo would have shared it with you. You know the AG already promised when he met Jack in Washington. This is just moving things ahead a bit, that’s all.”

“Oh, I know, and I don’t necessarily disagree, I just think that it is appalling that we, the government of the United States of America, have to resort to arming our citizens because we cannot protect them. The badge is a thin shield to hide behind, Jake” she said, her voice acerbic and it was lost on no one that she had called him by his first name.

There was quiet in the room. I was pretty sure I knew, now, what we were doing here and was also sure that this judge wasn’t happy about why we were doing it.

“Sorry, Jake, not your fault. Look, let’s get this over with and we can put it behind us, pretend we are civilized for a while. I have one of the best chefs in LA here tonight, my granddaughter and a new graduate of the CIA ... the Culinary Institute of America.” she said, laughing at the momentary looks of confusion on our faces when she mentioned the CIA.

“Allison is a whiz in the kitchen and was actively recruited by Bella’s downtown. Arguably one of the top three dining experiences in all of Los Angeles County!” she went on to tell us, obviously proud of her granddaughter.

“Carl?” she called out and the man I thought of as the butler stepped forward with a smile on his face.

“Mister McCoy, if you would stand. Deputy Miller, Deputy Williams and Deputy Foster can witness this for their friend. Mister McCoy, please raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

I did as he asked and repeated what he said, inserting my name.

“I, Daniel Jackson McCoy, do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the constitution of the United States of America; to obey the orders of officers appointed over me except as otherwise provided by law or Rule of Procedure; to execute all lawful writs, process, and orders issued under the authority of the United States and to protect and defend the citizens of United States of America, so help me God.”

“Congratulations son, you are now a Deputy Marshal. You have been placed on reserve duty and Dean, Dave and Deborah can get you started with that. You will have a lot of training to do and, unlike these other slackers, you don’t have any excuse for not attending the deputy training out in Georgia. I was told to tell you that while there is an authorized delay, because of the current mess you are in, you will be expected to report no more than thirty days after this is cleared up. In the meantime, listen to Dean and you will do alright” he smiled and shook my hand while handing me a wallet with a badge and photo ID inside.

He turned to shake hands with Dave, Dean and Deb and all four of them drifted off to the side to talk shop while Jake and Liz came to congratulate me. Jake was grinning like he won the lottery and shook my hand vigorously. Liz was smiling too and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Even the judge was grinning and shaking her head.

“I told Rodd that he needed to get off the pot and get you deputized like he said he would. When he learned about this Global mess, he agreed and said he would pass word down, but that it would be better if you did not come to DC and get it done, too high profile.” Jake explained. “He said he would have someone familiar with the case do it or, if needed find whoever was closest.”

“Nice to know I was convenient” the judge said with a grin to let us know she was teasing. “Well, Deputy McCoy, I have heard good things about you, so I don’t expect to hear you are out shooting up my town, understand?” she asked archly and, seeing I wasn’t going to object, smiled again. “Good! Now, let’s see if dinner is ready, shall we?”

Judge Phelps’s granddaughter turned out to be in her early thirties, and she had gone back to school after her twins started first grade, more as something to do than to find a new career. She found she had a talent for it and voila! The rest, as they say, was history!

Dinner was delicious, though I honestly didn’t know exactly what I was eating at any given time and, frankly, was too embarrassed to ask. Dessert was an apple pie, but it had currants and dates in it too and, when it was topped with freshly made French vanilla ice cream? Oh man, it was amazing.