Chapter 29: Cousin George

Five years are a long time, Henry thought. Five years ago, he had last visited Washington D.C. and so much had happened since then. He was waiting in line at immigration wearing the full uniform of a lieutenant colonel, complete with the Military Cross and a chest full of assorted medals. The middle-aged African American woman at the INS counter was not impressed.

"May I see your passport, Sir?"

Henry dutifully produced his brand new diplomatic passport.

"And would you please put your hands here, Sir?" she pointed at the finger print scanner.

"Decidedly not, Officer," Henry answered. "Diplomatic personnel are exempt."

She pressed a buzzer and a supervisor appeared.

"The gent thinks he's exempt from fingerprinting," she said pointing at Henry.

The supervisor scratched her head whilst looking at the passport.

"Well, he's a military attaché with the British embassy. Lieutenant Colonel Ruiz-Costa. That's not an English name, is it?"

Henry looked at the name tag of the supervisor.

"Admittedly, but LaTonia isn't strictly American, is it?" he grinned.

"Touché!" the woman laughed. "Welcome to Washington, Colonel!"

"Thank you and good day, Madam."

Outside of the customs area he was met by a driver from the embassy.

"Welcome to Washington, Sir," Henry heard once more.

They had a clear run on the Dulles access road but the Washington Belt Way was an altogether different story. It was over an hour before the limousine arrived at Massachusetts Avenue.

Here in the embassy, Henry hand delivered the attaché case he had been carrying. He also met with a liaison officer who quickly went through the meetings Henry would have with two manufacturers of small arms. It was one thing at which he was an expert. Evelyn Burns had pulled some strings so Henry could have these meetings as a cover for the real purpose of his visit.

The liaison officer also found out the office extension and the home phone number of one George Lowell, currently with CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Lastly, Henry had an appointment at the State Department to get his diplomatic status confirmed.

For the next two days, Henry dutifully visited two manufacturing plants, one in Virginia and one in New Jersey and evaluated various assault rifles.

The second visit did not go well. They wanted to show off a new model on a shooting range and Henry asked for a hands-on experience. After emptying the first clip with three quick bursts, he slapped in a second clip and continued firing bursts. When he slapped in the third clip, the rifle jammed. Henry's biting remarks did not leave the sales people with much hope regarding a possible deal with the British MOD.

On that afternoon, he called George Lowell at his desk in Langley.

"Hi, George, this is Henry. I know I'm not supposed to call you at work, but I'm in town and I thought we could have chance to meet."

There was a pause before Lowell answered.

"Henry, that's a nice surprise. You're here on business?"

"Yes, they reactivated me. I had to visit two possible small arms suppliers. I thought we could play some cards. You still owe me."

There was a pause. Lowell understood.

"Let me check with Annie. We are having neighbours over for dinner tomorrow. Perhaps you could join us? You haven't met Annie yet, have you?"

Henry laughed. "No, not to my knowledge. Where do you live?"

"2714 Chestnut Drive, Alexandria. Do you have wheels?"

"I can get an embassy car. When?"

"Make it around six. That leaves us some time to talk after dinner."

"Sounds great! I'll be there tomorrow."

He found the Lowell residence easily thanks to the embassy car's navigation system. He had brought a bottle of 12 year-old Balvenie Single Malt for his host and a flower bouquet for his wife. He balanced both in one arm while he rang the door bell.

The door was opened by the epitome of a high school princess. She was perhaps seventeen, her brunette hair was in a neat pony tail and she was wearing a short skirt with a tight sweater. Henry thought that she was probably very popular. She stared at him with an open mouth.

"Good evening, Miss. Is this the Lowell residence? I was invited for dinner."

"Uh, you're, like..." she stammered.

"Henry Ruiz-Costa, Miss."

"Are you, like, a soldier?"

"Yes," he smiled, "but I came unarmed."

Blushing, she opened the door wide and stepped aside to let him in. He took off his hat while she rushed into the back of the house. A second later, George Lowell emerged.

"Henry, old man! Why, look at you! Lieutenant-Colonel!"

"George! So nice to see you again! Here, let me get rid of this."

He handed his host the whisky which met with appreciation.

Then an older version of the high school princess appeared. She was introduced as Annabeth Lowell. This gave Henry the chance to unload the bouquet on her.

To his surprise, Annabeth Lowell gave him a firm hug.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you! We owe you so much. I was so scared back then."

She was, of course, alluding to George Lowell's abduction by the Sendero Luminosa, the Shining Path. Henry and his team had tracked down the guerilleros to their hide-out and freed Lowell, with Henry receiving a knife wound for his troubles.

The girl showed again.

"Jill, this is the man your father told us about. You went by the name of Capitan Costa back then?"

Henry nodded. "I'd held captain's rank in the Royal Marines, so everybody called me Capitan."

"He freed your father from those terrorists in Peru."

If possible, the girl's eyes bugged even more and her blush intensified.

"Not much of a conversationalist you are this evening, are you, Jill?" George mocked his daughter. "Why don't we go to the living room?"

They went and Henry met another couple by the name of Shoemaker. They were neighbours of the Lowells. With the Shoemakers on one side and George and Annabeth Lowell taking the head positions at the table, Henry was seated with young Jill Lowell. Even Henry with his complete lack of understanding of women could sense that the girl was suffering from a bad case of hero worship.

It also became obvious that Annabeth Lowell took great pride in her cooking, and Henry made sure to compliment her for each of the four courses. He also tried to put young Jill at ease, asking her about school and her future plans. At one point, of course, Henry had to produce photographs of his family.

"Your wife is so adorable!" Annabeth enthused. "And those twins! Your third daughter, did you adopt her?"

Henry smiled. "Tamara is my own daughter. The twins, Pat and Megan, are from my wife's first marriage."

"Isn't your wife American?" George Lowell asked.

"Yes, she is from Atlanta. You probably know the Maxwell's Maxistores. She used to own them."

"That's why her face looked familiar!" Annabeth gushed. "Her picture was in all the stores. Why did she sell out?"

"Oh, she didn't. They merged with Rotor Systems. She is on the board of directors. The new headquarters are in England. Not that I am complaining."

Talk then shifted to include the Shoemakers who had felt sidelined. Henry noticed Annabeth Lowell's finely tuned perception of other people's feelings.

At this point, Jill Lowell excused herself reluctantly. She had a dance date and she had to change. She came down half an hour later all dolled up and Henry could not help but wonder why a pretty young girl would hide her face under so many layers of make up. He idly watched when her date, a muscle-bound young man named Roy or Ray, made a short appearance in the living room. Through the open door, he again idly took in the young man's car, a customised black Suburban with a Confederate flag painted on the hood.

The adults sat at the table again and Annabeth Lowell served coffee and cake. The coffee was the only let down of the evening, tasting shallow and burnt. After coffee they stood on the deck enjoying the mild temperatures. When Mr. Shoemaker excused himself for a moment, George Lowell nodded at Henry.

"What can I do for you?"

"George, this is not a small favour I'm asking. You can say no and there'll be no hard feelings. But if you decide you can help me, I'd consider the slate even between us. Hell, I'll probably owe you."

"What is it then?"

"I need information about an outfit called StarIntel. They're a private contractor in Iraq. They are supposed to have a high-ranking Ba'ath Party defector who can finger the people behind the bombings in the South. We need what they have, but the price they ask is too high. They want one of our own defectors in exchange."

George Lowell's face had undergone several changes. In the end, it showed an amused grin.

"StarIntel? Those clowns? They're just a bunch of con men. Intel my arse! Henry, don't do business with them, they'll just screw you over. Firstly, they offered this 'high-ranking Ba'ath member' to us first. He's just some lowly village mayor with no ties to the Saddam clan. The StarIntel guys are not really in the intelligence field either. They're a bunch of ex-mercs and they work as bodyguards most of the time. For shady people I might add, like this new deputy oil minister..."

"Hamid Ouarid?" Henry interrupted his excitement gaining the upper hand.

George nodded. "Yes, him. He's one bad hombre, a regular sleaze ball. Our guys would love to pin something on him but he's been too slick so far."

Henry took a deep breath. Evelyn Burns had told him that they could do nothing against Ouarid. He was firmly embedded in what passed for an Iraqi government and he resided in Baghdad where the British held no power. He thought of his two dead team members and a grim smile formed on his lips.

"George, this has to stay between us until I get some backing from my people. But how would you like to interview a defector who can finger Ouarid as the leader of an insurgent group. The defector is credible; we have verified parts of the testimony independently."

"Wait! StarIntel wanted that defector, right? So you would have turned that person over to Ouarid's own bodyguards."

"Precisely."

"Jesus, Harry! I know a man who would almost die for a talk with your guy."

"I'll call my boss on the secure line. You guys will have to offer something in return though."

"Like what?"

"If it were just me, Ouarid's head on a platter with an apple stuffed in his mug would do just fine. I lost two men in an ambush he masterminded."

George chuckled.

"You'll get along famously with Walter Paxton. Except, you'll have to share the trophies. Call me as soon as you get the green light, Henry. Shit, I'll still be in your debt."

Nothing more was said about the matter as they rejoined the Shoemakers and Annabeth. Around eleven the Shoemakers excused themselves, but Henry sat with the Lowells for another hour. Annabeth became a bit antsy at that point because her daughter Jill was past her curfew and Henry decided to bid his farewell after exchanging private phone numbers with the Lowells.

Henry drove back towards the District. He was waiting at a traffic light when he noticed the black Suburban of Jill Lowell's boyfriend. It was driving slowly along the curb on the opposite side. Then he saw the figure of a girl who was waking the sidewalk and he heard the young man driving the suburban shout at her. He turned the wheel and made a U-turn. After passing the SUV, he stopped his car at the curb. The young man in the Suburban slammed on the brakes and the girl looked up. He lowered the passenger side window.

"Can I help you, Miss Lowell?" he offered.

Even in the dim light of the street lighting, he saw her relief when she recognised him.

"Could you drive me home, please, Mr. Ruiz-Costa?"

He opened the door from the inside and she quickly got in. In the rear-view mirror, he saw that the door of the suburban had opened. He released his safety belt and exited the car to confront the young man as he approached.

"Let her go!" Ray or Roy demanded hotly.

Henry stood seemingly relaxed but ready nonetheless. This could very well end in a physical confrontation. Not that he was overly concerned. The young man had an impressive physique, but he was hardly a match for anybody with Henry's background. Henry had to be careful though. He did not want to damage his left knee in some ill-prepared movement and so he carefully planted his right leg forward.

"She asked for a lift home. I suggest you hold your peace and try to make up with her tomorrow."

"Listen, old fart! I don't give a shit about your fancy uniform. Let her go, or..."

"Or what?" Henry asked sharply. "Lad, you're picking a fight you can't win. I've been in the business of hurting people for eighteen years. All you know is how to tackle kids on a football field. Even if you win you'll be charged with assault on a diplomat. That's a federal offence, my lad! The FBI and the Secret Service will investigate and it will be dealt with before a federal judge. You will go to a federal prison as fresh meat. Do you want that?"

Henry was bluffing. He was still hoping to settle this without a fight. But Ray or Roy was not deterred. He started the hostilities with a roundhouse swing that had all his 220 pounds behind it. Of course when Henry stepped back, that swing left the young man overbalanced, with most of his weight on his left foot. Henry brought him down with a well-timed kick against the inside of the left knee, straining the ligaments badly but not tearing them. Ray or Roy went down clutching his knee.

Henry stared down at him. "You picked a fight with a trained soldier, you genius."

"You asshole!" the young man hissed. "My dad will sue you blind!"

Henry grinned smugly. "Did you ever hear of diplomatic immunity, Einstein? Your father can sue me all he wants."

His grin stopped, and he bent down and spoke in a low voice.

"I have ways of knowing things, Einstein. If I find out that you've taken this out on Jill, you'll find me standing behind you when you'll least expect me. And then, my lad, you may just find out if there's really a white light at the end of the bloody tunnel. Savvy that?"

The young man's eyes narrowed as the meaning of the words dawned on him.

"Now get up and into your car. Drive home and put an ice bag on that knee. I suggest you tell your folks that you missed the curb in the dark and sprained your knee. Nobody needs to know that some old fart busted your knee and didn't break a sweat doing it."

Henry stepped back and waited for the young man to stagger to his feet. He could indeed stand limp slowly towards his SUV. Henry quickly got into his car and drove off, returning to the Lowell's house.

"What happened?" he asked Jill.

She looked back at him with some apprehension.

"Look, I only defended myself and I did not hurt him too much. What happened?"

"He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," she said in a low voice. "I slapped him and then he threw me out of the car. So I walked. He kept driving along and shouted at me, really bad things."

"He's in your school?"

She nodded morosely.

"Listen, Jill. If he gives you a hard time, let your father know! I mean it. He can make Ray stop."

"It's Roy, and what can Dad do? He's a pencil pusher at the State Department, for crying out loud! Roy is a starting linebacker."

"Jill, you must know by now that I'm not really one of those gentlemen officers who write reports and have their men parade in front of them. How do you think I met your father if he's a pencil pusher? Trust me! If you need somebody to back you, your Dad fits the bill."

The girl looked at him with big eyes. "You mean, he's with..."