Chapter 9: Bienvenidos

I don’t care who you talk to; some will agree, others will cuss — but one of the choicest jobs in the Corps is Embassy Duty. You’ve seen them in the background every time they run a news piece on some Embassy somewhere in the world. They are always there, always vigilant and ready to go tactical at a second’s notice. Those pretty boys (and girls) at the gate may look fancy in their Alfas, but for every one of them there is a squad of heavily armed jarheads in BDUs ready to do unspeakable things if you try something untoward with their ‘detail’. Yeah, it’s cake duty, most of the time — except when it’s not.

If you get selected for Embassy Duty you have to undertake additional training sponsored by the State Department which is held at an undisclosed location somewhere in Virginia which may or may not be somewhere around Quantico and ‘The Farm’. Protective Detail training is no joke and is very easy to wash out right up to the day you graduate. If you liked to play ‘pull my finger’ with Suzy Johnson in Third Grade and failed to mention it on your SF 86 (Questionnaire for National Security) — they will find out and you will get to ‘splain yourself in a back room somewhere. The training is long and arduous. There is classroom stuff with spooks who teach you how to do spook stuff (those are some clever little bastards) and lectures of, theater specific threat conditions, who’s who in the threat analysis, geopolitical lectures, comms lectures, predesignated infill/exfill strategies and — everybody’s favorite: the Protective Detail Tactical Driving Course or TDC for short.

You don’t know a good time until you strap into a 3-ton, armored Suburban with 800 hp and complete a myriad of obstacle courses aimed at avoiding ambushes, getting out of ambushes, escorting and transporting VIPs. You aren’t graded on the condition of your vehicle at the end — but the condition of your protectee (we called them Goats when they weren’t listening). If they survived and didn’t bleed out during exfil, then you likely passed. Generally, we were teamed up with like groups (Secret Service PPD trainees, FBI cadets, and Private Sector students) and took turns at various roles from recon, detour, over-watch, and the actual GW (goat wagon). I suspect that you have to be a certain level of crazy to not only enjoy TDC but to graduate altogether and I was certified bat-shit.

I liked the disputed property the most. The two lots were part of a subdivision. The one listed was 24 acres and shaped roughly, like the State of Idaho. The smaller, ten-acre lot made up the northwest portion that would have completed the rectangular shape of the whole parcel. There was a large creek that ran through both lots and the one I liked had a huge 4,200 square foot home with an attached 3-car garage, attached indoor pool, and a hot tub that could hold eight adults. There was also a detached 1,200 Sq ft home with its own carport. Several outbuildings stood further away near what appeared to be an old corral. The property featured an extensive pecan and peach tree orchard and a large pond that was said to be filled with Bream and Crappie. The pictures even showed a small fishing pier connected to the shore. It was listed for $850,000. The unlisted property was undeveloped but had a single-wide trailer on it. There was also a massive 300-foot transmission tower just off the NE corner of the undeveloped lot that supported a dozen high-tension powerlines that hung over the northernmost portion running east to west (or west to east I suppose).

When I tried to get to the bottom of the ‘dispute’ George couldn’t give me a straight answer. The smaller lot was purchased by a small family who immigrated from Russia. There were no utilities available and the shared road entered the larger lot from the west, traveling straight across the lot to the smaller piece of property. Mr. Simpke had pulled all the purchasing documents and noted that the buyers had refused to sign the road maintenance agreement and neglected to conduct a perc test for suitable septic before signing the contract. Apparently, they made the purchase ‘sight-unseen’ meaning they never set foot on it or looked it over before putting their money down. I shrugged at this but it wasn’t my problem, and I really wanted that property.

“So, I just maintain my portion and screw them,” I grunted as we walked around the property with George. Lupi and I each held a 6-year-old hand while Jasmine paced behind us. Gunner and Libby were bent on running off and exploring but I held them close with a firm command. George was a very tall and thin red-headed guy with a shaggy mane and a bushy mustache. He wore dark aviator sunglasses and drove a silver Tesla.

“If it were that simple,” George remarked, “It would be ideal if they would sign an agreement to that effect but it sounds like they are a pretty disagreeable lot to begin with.”

I smirked. Being disagreeable was part of my job description as a Marine. “So, what will it take to clear this for purchase?”

“If we agree to the terms as they have been presented to us, nothing needs to be done. But it would be prudent to get a judgment against any possible shenanigans they might try to pull. I’m having our legal team read over the history of the property and the subdivision, looking for any loopholes they might try to finagle,” he replied as we walked through the orchard. The pecans were bountiful and ripe for picking. I was very impressed and could tell that Lupi was over the moon with the idea of living here.

“What kind of loopholes are we talking about?”

“Anything you could imagine that isn’t written down in a contract,” he replied. “Water rights, mineral rights, even the right to pick these pecans or those peaches over there,” he indicated with a wave of his hand. “If it doesn’t say they ‘can’t’ fish on that pond, you could find them and all their extended friends and family hanging out around your pond without your permission.”

I looked around and noted the power poles lining the driveway up to the main house. “It looks like there is no power running out there. They must be living off the grid.” The driveway we shared ran onto their property and up to a single-wide mobile home that had seen better days and had grass growing knee-high around it.

He looked at his tablet and nodded. “No water, power, or utilities. Garbage is picked up at the beginning of your driveway and you both have mail drops there too.” He scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders. “The subdivision sounds like it was a shady thing to begin with but you find that down here a lot.”

“So, what do you think?” I asked. “This is just too sweet of a property to pass up for us. What can we do?”

“Let us proceed with extreme caution,” he answered. “And let our real estate attorneys go over everything with a fine-tooth comb before we agree to the contract.” He stopped and turned to face us both, removing his sunglasses. “In the meantime, if you are really convinced that this is the property you want, we can go ahead and put earnest money down to keep it off the market until everything is squared away.”

“We can do that?” I said eagerly.

He nodded, “There haven’t been any offers so far and I doubt anyone else is ready to tackle this easement dispute.”

“How much?”

“Usually it’s 5-10%. I’ll contact the Seller’s agent and offer $50,000. Just keep in mind that this is non-refundable unless there is a significant breach of conditions — like we discover a sinkhole under the house or something.”

I looked at Lupi and then nodded to him. “Do it.”

My next priority was to remedy my resounding ‘fuck up’ from earlier. After leaving the property I drove straight to the Jewelry store located on Broadway and Main, which was always featured in the late-night television commercials. We must’ve been a sight, walking through the automatic doors and into the posh lobby. I was holding Lupi’s nervous hand and the three bambinos followed along behind us like little ducklings.

I saw the expression on the greeter woman’s face as she shifted to her ‘Botox’ smile and welcomed us warmly to their fine establishment. She held a tablet in one hand and introduced herself as Tina. She spoke with a subtle British accent but still pronounced it ‘Jew-lah-ree’.

“And how might we help you fine people today?”

‘Jaseetha? Thabird jesflewup, swoop’down, anwhen poopin me-eye!’ I thought in my head as I remembered the British UN Forces, I had worked with, and their comical accents.

“Well, Tina,” I said pulling my beautiful fiancé next to me, “Lupi here tells me no more kids until I put a ring on it!” It was a good thing my ribs were tougher than her elbow.

An hour and a half later we were celebrating our engagement in traditional southern style. We went to the all-you-can-eat buffet at Golden Corral. Lupi was self-conscious of the massive 2-carat rock on her finger and she cradled her left hand like it was broken or something, as she fidgeted with it. The twins were simply blown away by all of the food laid out before them and Jasmine found her way straight to the dedicated dessert bar before she even began scoping out the food choices.

“Alex,” she asked quietly beside me as we watched the girls go back for seconds and thirds.

I had my arm around her and sipped my sweet tea, feeling profoundly happy with life for the first time in a very long time. “Yeah, babe?”

“Dr. Sousa said you could be gone for two to three months,” she replied with a troubled tone. “How will we handle purchasing the new home and moving if we can’t do it in the next five days? I don’t want to do this by myself.”

I squeezed her and kissed her head. “I doubt we will be able to close that quickly regardless, hon. Even if the Seller agrees with all inspection items, it is unlikely they will resolve the tenant easement conflict by then.” I didn’t want her moving without me anyway.

“So, we can stay where we are until you return?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes of course,” I replied, “with me gone there is a little more room for you, the girls, and your mom — when she decides to stay over. I would like to go by and get a replacement sleeper sofa for the main room though, just so that you have a spare bed when you need it.”

She pressed against me and sighed, “Thank you. I know I can always count on Davee to help me out too. And I have my other family around if the need arises.”

I nodded, “And I am only a phone call away, provided I’m not in a medically induced coma or something.”

She shivered. “I wish I could go with you and be there. I could take so much better care of you than ... whoever they have to take care of people.”

“I know sweetheart,” I said softly as Didi and Lulu returned to the table, each holding an enormous ice cream cone with every sprinkle imaginable on it. Jasmine followed behind with an epic creation of her own. “I can’t imagine I will be out of the game for very long. Once I’m up and about it’s only a matter of counting down the days.”

I was three days away from my flight out. I had Lupi drop me off at Starbucks on her way to the kindergarten where she dropped the twins off before going to meet with a client. Jasmine was assimilating well to living with us and it had little impact on her social life, considering she didn’t have one before moving in. Rearranging her transportation was simple enough and she was able to meet the bus half a block down from my house. The property we were working to purchase put us outside the city limits and into a more rural district. I checked out the high schools where she could potentially go and made a note to visit each of them after I got back. The most likely center was just across the street from the Elementary and Middle Schools which would be convenient, to say the least.

I greeted the regulars who knew me and got my first cup of coffee before sitting down and opening my laptop. Book #3 was a purely fictitious novel about a group of ex-Marines who stayed in touch after getting out and forming a motorcycle club that toured the country and helped other disadvantaged Vets who fell through the cracks in the system. Often their ‘help’ included actions that bordered on the grayer side of justice and their misadventures sometimes landed them on the wrong side of the law.

I was slowly piecing together dozens of different scenes and ‘parts’ into a body of text that flowed the way I wanted it to. Staying true to my chronological order and the overall plot was tougher and I had to stop frequently to think it over before attacking it from a different angle. There were no chapters in the text so far, only scene breaks and Clip-it notes where I wanted to add further detail or another scene altogether. It was a hell of a way to write a book and seemed contrary to my usual thought-to-text process. But it was working and I was eager to see how it played out.

“What are we working on...”

I slapped the laptop closed as soon as I heard his voice and turned to look up at his astonished face.

“ ... today?” he finished, “What the hell Alex? Did I catch you watching gay porn or something?” He stood over me with two cups of coffee. He hesitated before sitting down across from me and seemed to be considering whether to give me the other cup or dump it in my lap.

“Hi Davee, how’s it hanging?” I replied casually, “Actually don’t answer that. What do you want?”

“I ‘want’ to know how you are doing. Or I did until you just got all cuntish on me. Who lit the wick on your tampon this morning?” he said derisively.

I sat back and took a drink of my coffee. “I’m fine thank you, just taking a few hours to unwind and fix some things. Not sure how much time I’ll have after this weekend to do much ... of anything.”

“Why the Kardashian drama-fest when I walked up?” he asked tersely.

“Just working on some ideas that I’m not ready to share with anyone yet.”

His eyes glittered. “Is it Book #3?”

I hedged and fidgeted with my cup. “Yeah, sort of ... well somewhat, I’m not sure yet.”

He frowned and looked at me sideways. “Are you taking your meds?”

“I’m fine Davee,” I insisted, “it’s just that this is completely off-script for my usual creative muse. The structure is fragmented, the timeline is sketchy and the plot is ... lacking somewhat. But I have ideas for all of that. I just need to sort out what I have and then decide how to arrange it into a book. Or can the whole thing and start over...”

He looked like I had just slapped Jesus. “Don’t you DARE can anything! Please at least let me look it over before you do, think of it as a second opinion. You just need to calm your tits and trust your instincts, Alex. You are an amazing writer. And that’s not just me blowing smoke up your ass either.” He set down the coffee before me and put his elbows on the table across from me. “I’ve got several hundred glowing testimonials regarding how your stories have affected your readers.”

I suddenly felt silly and guilty for being so ‘cuntish’ to him. I sighed. “Give me a few days and regardless of what it looks like when I get to Buenos Aires, I will send you the lot. Just know that it’s a right fucking mess at the moment and I may not be able to do much in this short of time. But I’ll try.”

He breathed out and smiled like he had just saved the Queen of England. “Thank you. Now what can I do for you to help you get ready for your trip? Have you packed your essentials yet? Bought travel insurance? Arranged for Lupi to pay all the bills? Filed a travel plan with your bank?”

“Um...”

“Oh dear,” he pulled out his pen and removed the heat sleeve from his cup. He tore it open and began writing a list on the inside. “Make sure you do these things today, and sign up to pre-board so that you can skip the lines at the security gate. Just download this app and scan your enhanced driver’s license onto it.” He jotted a few more things down and slid the cardboard sleeve over to me.

“Thanks,” I said as I looked it over, “I mean it. Thank you. My utilities are paid automatically and so are our wireless and internet bills.” I pursed my lips and felt like a boot again. “Been a while since I traveled and I was used to just following the schmuck in front of me and letting Uncle Sam take care of the details. This is good stuff.”

He grinned and got to his feet. “Just don’t forget your promise to send me everything you have when you get there. I don’t care if it’s in Yiddish, I want it.”

‘He probably knows Yiddish too,’ I mused as he left and I regarded the list again. The travel plan with Navy Federal was a piece of cake. Not that I would be using them much down there. The TSA Pre-Boarding screener took some time, but I got it done and received an acknowledgment that my itinerary was received and under review. I had my old seabag but nothing in the way of actual luggage so I would have to go by Walmart later and see what they had. He mentioned a special lock that TSA could open without destroying my bags. Not that I was planning on bringing anything special — skivvies, socks, shirts, and pants. I planned on carrying on my laptop. No fuss no muss.

I was into my third cup when Lupi returned and joined me at the table. I smiled warmly as she entered the café/bistro and turned every head within. ‘God, she was beautiful!’ even when she wasn’t trying to be.

“How did your appointment go?” I asked.

“Good, I feel silly working for Paulo and Davee, now that I don’t need to,” she replied. “But I owe them everything for picking me up when I was so far down and giving me a chance.”

“Do you enjoy what you are doing?” I asked candidly as I put my arm around her and drew her in for a kiss.

She nodded as she placed a hand on my chest. “I really do, everyone there treats me so well and I look forward to seeing them every time I go in. And my clients are just wonderful.”

“Then don’t do it for the money,” I said, “do it for you.”

She nodded again and glanced at the cardboard sleeve. “What’s this?”

“It’s a list of things Davee wrote down for me to do before I leave. We need to go shopping for a suitcase. That’s all that’s left.”