Pitfall (25 page)

I crouched, balancing on the balls of my feet, and struggled awkwardly with the drained keg. Only with concentrated effort did I get it out of its ice bath and set solidly down, almost losing my balance in the process. Furious with frustration at my ongoing weakness, I cursed as I wrestled with the other one, bent on forcing my muscles to cooperate, breaking into a cold sweat. No two ways about it, I was
going
to get results.

That’s when I felt a presence looming over me, blocking the sunlight. I looked up. Seth again. And he didn’t look happy with me. At all. Folding his arms over his massive chest, he scowled down with a hard stare, his mouth pressed into a tight line, his stern expression looking like it had been chiseled there. He didn’t speak a word, giving me tough. I stared back, giving as good as I got, as mute as a rock as we locked eyes.

He finally broke the logjam. “Marsh told me to look over here. That you were at it again.” He shook his head, scolding me in his famous first sergeant’s intimidating tone.
“Now
what do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s a new act. I call it beer keg juggling. A talent scout’s due to stop by later. There’s big money in it.” I nodded knowingly. “I’m talking
big.”

“The docs told you not to lift anything over ten pounds. You want to end up back in the hospital?”

I winced as a sharp sting lanced my shoulder blade, my answer wry. “No, not particularly.”

The sudden pain in my eyes didn’t escape my friend’s intense scrutiny. “Yeah, well keep it up and you just might.” Bending low, he effortlessly took the keg from me as if it was as light as a goose down pillow and set it in the ice.

“Give me a break, Seth,” I shot peevishly as he straightened. “I’m not an invalid.”

Reaching down again, he gripped me under my right shoulder and gently pulled me to my feet. He narrowed his eyes. “A break, right. Just who do you think you’re kidding? You’re only being held together with white tape and fond wishes.”

“Fond wishes? Golly, you’re sweet.”

“You listen to me.” He gestured toward a table outside. “Go sit down over there before you fall down. I mean it. Man, I can’t leave you alone for more than five minutes.”

“Three minutes, tops.”

Total exasperation and an ‘I-told-you-so’ look showed clearly in his weathered face. “You don’t fool me, John, not for a hot second. You’re worse than a little kid. Look at you. You’re drenched in sweat. Again.”

Yeah, I was, actually.

“Am I going to have to tie you up?” He placed his hands on his hips, face darkening. “For God’s sake, let yourself heal, will you?”

I had to admit I’d overdone it. My smashed nose was coming along, and my black eyes weren’t looking so bad now; I looked less raccoon-like. And my fractured fingers, joints, and the bones in my hands were knitting; now I had to build the strength back into them. But my broken ribs, and the internal damage they’d caused, along with my shoulder wound, were taking a lot longer to heal than I liked.

Nodding my surrender, without further argument slowly we started walking outside, Seth heading on down to the lake.

Pausing in the doorway of the hangar, I flexed my sore hands. I could hear familiar voices coming around the right side of the building, where the closest picnic table was; Granny always said I had ears like a bat. I could make out Marsh and Janine, who I knew had been sitting across from Shelly.

Everyone was in deep in conversation. Overhearing the subject of their discussion—me—I admit I was curious. Taking a handkerchief from the back pocket of my jeans I wiped the sweat from my face and neck as I listened, at the same time watching some kids fishing down by the dock.

“Were the reports about John on the news accurate?” Shelly’s voice carried. “About his medals and all? How long have you known him?”

“Almost ten years,” Marsh replied.

Shelly didn’t immediately reply, then she said quietly. “He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

“That he doesn’t,” Marsh agreed.

“So what’s he really like? Could you tell me?”

Oh man. Not this.

At that moment my attention was distracted by a commotion down by the lake. A little girl was wrestling with a bass, her line taut as she tried to reel it in. I could hear her laughter and squeals of delight. Her dad stood close by, watching and encouraging her. I couldn’t tell from his back who he was. At any rate it looked like they were having a ball.

There was a pause before I heard Janine answer with a throaty feminine laugh. “That’s not an easy question to answer, girl. I’d have to say John’s stubborn but generous to a fault. That is, he considers other people’s welfare before his own. But he needs to take better care of himself. That’s why Seth and I keep an eye on him. And you’ve probably noticed, people of all ages are drawn to him.”

“I know I was,” Shelly said. “He has the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. And Ronnie loves him, just like all the boys on the football team do.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Right off. It’s easy to tell. Little kids see right to the heart of people.”

That’s true. They do.

“People trust him because he says what he means, and means what he says,” Janine said. “At his core I guess he’s just an old-fashioned Southern gentleman.” I could feel my ears burning as she added, “Of course, the one who knows him best is Seth. The two of them almost read each other’s minds. They’ve been friends since they were four years old. But Seth says it was only when they served in the 101st  101st that
that
that they really bonded as brothers.”

Then I heard Marsh pipe up. “He and John are always making cracks about their exploits, as if it’s a joke. He says they’re rough and tough and know their stuff.” Thankfully he was using my preferred name today, probably in deference to Shelly. He went on, “But make no mistake. They truly do know their stuff.”

“I’ve seen that,” Shelly murmured.

“Let me put it this way,” he said. “I’d hate to be their enemy. I know where John is concerned he has one side he reserves just for the bad guys. He’s absolutely relentless when it comes to them. Maybe you could ask Seth about it.”

Janine huffed a laugh. “Yeah, Shelly, you could ask, but good luck coaxing anything personal about him out of that man of mine. He’d just clam up, holding his hand like a stop sign and telling you to wait and find out for yourself. And John’s the same way. I swear, I swear it’s like they’re two brothers from different mothers.”

Shelly replied, with what sounded like a touch of wonder in her tone, “I didn’t know there were still men like that left in the world.”

Marsh laughed. “Listen, Shel, I’ve known him for years, and he’s utterly fearless. Sometimes, though, it gets him in trouble.” Sometimes? Lately more often than not. “But like you said, you already know that. He has unending patience with most people, but not himself. Never himself.”

Hearing shouts of raucous laughter, my attention was drawn to some kids building sand castles on the beach, complete with moats. From the sounds they were having a blast.

Janine smoothly interjected, “You’ll find he doesn’t give his trust easily. I suppose that partly comes from his Ranger training. Take it from my living with Seth all these years, they talk little and listen a lot.”

Okay, that was enough. Any more of this and these three were going to turn my head. Shoving the now-damp rag back into my hip pocket, I cleared my throat as I signaled my approach.

Thankfully they quickly changed the subject as I slowly walked up and stepped over the picnic table bench. Easing myself wearily down next to Shelly, I gave her a pained smile. Seth was right; that beer keg stunt had been stupid.

When Shelly turned away from the sun to look at me, the sudden toss of her head sent her golden hair swirling in a shimmering cloud around her graceful neck and shoulders. Taking her small hand lightly in mine, I gazed down tenderly at her.

Plainly put, the woman was intoxicating, and nicely filled out the fire-engine red, backless sundress she was wearing. Very nicely. Could be something good had come out of this nightmare after all.

But she’s leaving,
I reminded myself.
Soon.
The realization of that once more flooded in.

But someday she be might be able to exit the program, I thought, and I’d see her again. The odds were against it, but who knew? Maybe something good might come out of this nightmare after all.

Looking up, I caught a clouded look in Marsh’s countenance. “John, you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.”

Janine also wore a worried expression as she peered up at me over the rims of her tortoise-shell frame sunglasses. “Spill it, white boy. What have you been up to this time?”

“Who, me?” I flashed a tired smile in feigned innocence, giving them my pure-as-the-driven-snow act. No way was I going to tell them of my new hobby of beer keg juggling.

Marsh wasn’t buying it. “You need to follow doctor’s orders, Johnny. Naturally.”

“Naturally,” I echoed, my face deadpan as I turned my attention to him.

Seth whistled through his teeth from where he stood. “Oh yeah, that’ll be the day. When pigs fly, maybe.” Striding up to the end of the picnic table he said to me, “John, old buddy, if you ever willingly did what a doctor told you the first time, I’d be stunned.” Handing me one of the two beers he was holding, he parked himself next to his wife.

Just then Kenny and Ronnie ran up, laughing. They each grabbed a brownie and started happily chomping away as they raced off again toward the other kids.

Ignoring Seth’s crack, I gazed around in silent appreciation. Most of my closest friends, all here at one table: Seth, Janine, and Marsh, and with them my newest—and sadly, soon to be gone—friend, Shelly. Walt Solomon and his family were supposed to have been here as well, but at the last minute he told me he was asked to fill in for an agent guarding Eli Cross’s prison convoy who’d fallen ill. Knowing what Cross and his son had done to me, with an evil grin Walt said he’d be more than glad to help. In fact, just try to keep him away.

Holding out my beer, I said, “I’d like to make a toast.” 

Silently they held up their cups, looking at me in expectation. I cleared my throat again.

“Thanks again for your patience and understanding. I know these past few weeks haven’t been easy for any of us. I have no idea why I have such terrific people around me, but I’m very, very grateful.” My voice grew a bit louder as I raised my cup, gazing at each one in turn. “So here’s to all my friends and loved ones, here and gone.” The words hung. “But not forgotten.”

Plainly nonplussed, Seth tried to hide. “Showoff.”

I was about to make a snappy comeback when suddenly my new Blackberry hanging in its pouch off my belt picked that moment to ring. Now what? Pulling it free, I stared at the screen. No name, and the number wasn’t familiar.

Unaccountably the melancholy I’d felt earlier was back, suddenly blooming full-born into a dark chill of raw disaster. A klaxon alarm sounded in my mind as at the same time my old pal farsight skittered up my spine on tiny, spiked feet.

Setting my beer down, I swiveled around, stepping over the picnic bench, and began walking away on a diagonal path. I placed the unit to my ear. “Brenner.”

The man on the other end started talking.

I stopped in my tracks, tensing in astonishment.
“Say again?”
Gripping the phone tighter, my heart froze. My voice was strained and filled with shock. “Are you
sure?”

At the grim expression on my face, Seth stood.

I listened a few moments longer, then I sighed heavily. “Got it.”

With my mind churning like whitewater rapids, I put the phone away. Standing stock-still, I glared straight ahead at nothing at all, attempting to absorb the devastating news. All the other sights and sounds faded into the distance as I contemplated what I’d just heard.

A hundred questions swirled around like hot sparks up a flue as I attempted to digest the enormity of the situation. The creeping wave of numbed disbelief a moment ago had been replaced by the agonized realization that what I’d just been told was true. I knew the anguish I was feeling was mirrored in my body language.

“John, what’s wrong?” Seth’s tone was low and controlled. When I didn’t immediately answer he said my name again, louder, anxious now and impatient. “John?”

Slowly turning to him, my voice rumbled, the words coming out strained and hollow. I could taste the bitterness of grief and calamity on my tongue as I looked directly at him. “Walt’s dead.” Every eye whipped my way at those words.

“What?”
Seth blurted, his body suddenly taut.
“Dead?”

From the corner of my eye I caught Shelly’s soft expressive face flooding with questioning concern. “Who’s Walt?”

I struggled to contain my churning, conflicting emotions. Fear, guilt, rage, and grief fought within me for control. Although the sun hung bright in the late afternoon sky, the atmosphere now felt harsh and leaden, like dark and ominous storm clouds gathering for an onslaught. It seemed the temperature had dropped twenty degrees as the full implication of the message hit me.

The game had just changed. Drastically.

“Walt Solomon is our friend and jump school partner,” I told Shelly, my timbre hollow, “and is—” I stopped, and then began again. “Was a Navy pilot and a SEAL. Two years ago he took a job as a consulting field agent with the FBI.”

The terrible silence stretched.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Turning my head toward the trees my voice was tight, grating, ragged with rage. “It wouldn’t have taken much …”

“What do you mean?” Seth walked over and stood right in front of me. “Killed who? What are you
talking
about?”

I stared at the ground but didn’t really see it as I spoke haltingly, with a voice gone leaden with emotion. “That call was from Bob.”

Seth knew I was talking about Walt’s FBI supervisor, Bob Phegley.

“This will hit the news any second, but he wanted to give us both a heads up first.” I looked up, pausing again, and ran my hands through my hair.

Seth’s ocher countenance held fiery menace. “Man, just
say
it.”

My chest felt constricted. “Walt’s unit was escorting a federal marshal’s convoy carrying Eli Cross to a more secure facility. Fifteen minutes ago they were attacked by what the survivors called a small army packing automatic weapons.”

The others gasped. I didn’t need to see their horrific expressions as I kept addressing my friend. “It was a bloodbath, Seth. Whole families in the passing traffic were burned alive when their vehicles were hit with tracer gunfire and exploded. All of the marshals are dead, along with twelve FBI agents.” My throat closed. “Including Walt.”

This was met with a long chilling silence of stunned incredulity as a pall of shock spread over all of them. Then as it sank in, Janine broke into silent tears, burying her face in her hands. Walt, his wife, and their two little girls had sat at this very table with us just over four months ago, on the fourth of July.

My hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. This agony carried a weight all its own. “It looks like we’re not done yet with Eli Cross.” My eyes bored straight into Seth’s. “The son of a bitch is out.”

Devastation filled his face.
“What?
Are you
sure?”

“There’s more.” I knew my words only added to his pain, but they had to be said. “Things have gotten personal.”