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Devlin Sub Rosa: Book Three of the Devlin Quatrology

Page 6

by Jake Devlin


  “Ach, ja, Greg und Julie, my American proteges.”

  “American? No, I think they're British.”

  “British, Rona? No, I think they're Canadian.”

  “Hell, maybe they're South African.”

  “Or Belgian.”

  “Nein, nein, zey are not Belgian; zat I know. I sink American.”

  “Whatever, Doc, they say hello.”

  “Und hallo back to zem.”

  “I'll pass that on.”

  “So, Doc, comfy enough here?”

  “It is fine, except zat I am a prisoner.”

  “No, Doc, not a prisoner; you're a guest.”

  “Guests are allowed to leave, are zey not?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “But I am not, am I?”

  “For your own safety, Doc. We still don't know who it was that kidnapped you, and we don't want them to come after you again.”

  “You haf no idea who zose guys vere?”

  “Oh, we know who some of 'em are – I mean were. Ran their photos through our facreg software and we” –

  “Facreg? Vat is zat?”

  “Sorry; facial recognition. And we ID'd nine of 'em. All mercs, freelance. Looks like the guy you killed was the leader, recruited 'em all.”

  “Ja, ja, zat is how he ected, like ze boss man.”

  “His name was – hold on a sec; got it here somewhere.”

  “Helmut, I sink zey called him.”

  “Rona, you got that file on your phone? I'm having trouble” –

  “Yeah, right here. Yeah, Helmut, um, ah, okay, Rosenheim. Helmut Rosenheim. Austrian national, long history as a mercenary.”

  “Thanks. He was harder to ID, 'cause you blew off everything above his nose. And most of the others had no faces left to ID.”

  “Or heads for some of 'em.”

  “Right. So we only got nine ID'd. But we haven't been able to track down who's behind the whole kidnap op, who financed it all. And until we do, we think it's best to keep you hidden away here, safe.”

  “How much longer?”

  “No idea. Our people are working on that 24/7, but whoever they are, they've covered their tracks real good.”

  “'Really well,' Joel, not 'real good.'”

  “Oh, thank you very much, English major.”

  “Oh, you're quite welcome, engineer.”

  “You are engineer, Herr Joel?”

  “Was.”

  “Vat speciality?”

  “Civil, mostly bridges.”

  “Electronic, computer science, und matt und physics.”

  “What was – wait a second, guys. Ah, yes. 'Electronic engineers build guidance systems; civil engineers build targets.'”

  “Oh, like I haven't heard that a million times before.”

  “But zat is new to me, Herr Joel. Good vun, Frau Rona. Guidance systems, targets. I haf it.”

  “Can we skip the 'Herr' and 'Frau,' Doc? It's a bit too formal.”

  “Ah, I am Sviss und ve are formal, Frau Ro- – I mean Rona. But I know you Americans are not, so I vill try.”

  “We're not Americans.”

  “No? But your accents are American.”

  “Spent a lot of time there.”

  “Vie lange – sorry; how long?”

  “Oh, many, many years.”

  “So vat are you?”

  “Israeli.”

  “Jewish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bohss of you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ich bin, au- – oh, sorry; I am, too.”

  “But Frenchensteiner is German, isn't it?”

  “Ja. My parents added ze 'e-r' in ze sirties.”

  “Oh, after the movie came out?”

  “Movie, vat movie?”

  “The monster movie, with Kordis Barloff.”

  “Ach, ja, zat vun. No, zey just vanted it to sound more Cherman.”

  “Wait. Hear that?”

  “Ah, zis is our breakfast. Behind zat liddle panel next to ze door.”

  “I'll get it.”

  “Nein, Frau – I mean Rona. Now you are my guests. I vill – ah, good; zey added two more place – oh, vat is ze vort?”

  “Settings?”

  “Ja, ja; place settings.”

  “Wow, looks good. They give you stuff like this every day?”

  “Ja, ja. Somebody out zere is a wery good cook.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Oh, this is great, delicious.”

  “But, Doc, I hear you also do just milk and spinach some days.”

  “Ja, ja, Joel; one day each veek.”

  “Why?”

  “It opens my brain.”

  “It what?”

  “Opens my brain, helps viz ze creative process. It helped zat American inwentor, Thomas Edison, ze guy vat inwented ze light bulb. Und Chris Lloydopher used it, und he told me about it. I haf been using it effer since zat.”

  “Chris Lloydopher? Wasn't he the professor in that movie” –

  “Ze 'Back to the Future' movies? Ja, ja. Super nice guy, wery down-to-earth, almost dull. But zat udder guy, zat Michael J. Wolf, so arrogant und crazy, a royal pain in ze – vat is ze vort?”

  “Neck?”

  “No, no, stronger vort, I sink.”

  “Ass?”

  “Ja, ja. Sank you, Rona. A royal pain in ze ass.”

  “How did you know them?”

  “Ach, I vas a consultant on all ten of zose films.”

  “Really?”

  “Ja, ja, really, but only on ze time travel parts of zem. Anyhow, Chris told me about ze milk-und-spinach sing.”

  “So how does it – what'd you say – open your brain?”

  “Vell, Joel, ze first time I used it, I had – I sink zey are called hallucinogens?”

  “Hallucinations.”

  “Sank you, Rona; hallucinations. Und some of zose gave me new ideas, new vays of seeing ze vorld und everysing in it und around it.”

  “And pop eyes, too?”

  “Nein, Rona. Vas?”

  “Never mind; just thinkin' out loud.”

  “And that's how you got started on the whole 4D idea?”

  “Ach, no, no, no, Joel; zat whole sing schtarted vay before zat, back ven I vas maybe neun oder zehn Jahre – sorry – nine or ten years old, in ze late forties, early fifties.”

  “But obviously you focused on it for a lot of your academic and research career.”

  “Ja, ja, zat is true. It became a – vat zey call an obschession.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Vell, my goal vas to go back und kill Hitler before he could come to power.”

  - 25 -

  June 17, 2013

  11:08 a.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “So tell me, Jake.”

  “Let's see. Well, lemme – remember when we first met?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I told you that maybe a woman named Wendi, a total Obamabot, may have been the one that sent the link to Donne's speech to the Dems?”

  “I think so; been a couple of years – oh, wait; yes. Let me play it back in my – ah, okay; up in Myrtle Beach.”

  “Right.”

  “You told me that in my condo, right after I got back from training with O-P, when that white convertible had been following us.”

  “It was? I'll take your word for that. Anyhow, I told you that that may have set the ball in motion for you to investigate me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, that was only part of the story.”

  “And the rest of the story?”

  “I had three of my agents send that link to the Secret Service, suggesting that Donne's speech was possibly treasonous, and asking them to look it over, see if they wanted to investigate. We coordinated to make sure none of the three messages were the same, and were sent far apart in time and from different locations. So the source was hidden, anonymous.”

  “They never showed me those, just tasked me to investigat
e.”

  “I know, and knew back then.”

  “You did?”

  “You don't think I have sources in the Service, as well as the CIA, NSA and FBI?”

  “I didn't then, but I do now. I've had contact with some of them.”

  “Right. Well, back then, I was able to use my Service guy to steer the assignment to your boss, and then to you. Figured there was an 80 percent chance you'd be the one tasked.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Same reason I picked Amber way back then. You were good, damned good.”

  “So you knew about me before I met you?”

  “Of course. I'd kept tabs on your career ever since you and JJ graduated from the Farm – not all the time, but spot checks a couple times a year. And I was impressed with both of you. Remember, by the time you got into the CIA, we'd been in business for seven – no, eight; right, eight – eight years. The three of us thought you and JJ would be a great addition to our team.”

  “You spied on us?”

  “Not directly, but yup – among others. There were some we spied on because they seemed dangerous. Like your boss in the Service.”

  “Raunchy Randy?”

  “Yup. We profiled him as sociopathic, narcissistic, unstable” --

  “Y'got that right.”

  -- “and sadistic.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “Back then, one of the technical psychological terms we didn't have was 'asshole,' but he was that, too.”

  “F'sure.”

  “But you and JJ, you passed with flying colors.”

  “And when we left the CIA?”

  “Well, with JJ off in the private sector, it was tougher to keep tabs on her, but we did what we could. And when you got shot, I was so worried that we might lose you.”

  “You mean the chance to recruit me?”

  “That, but moreso that you might die.”

  “It wasn't that bad a wound, Jake; just the shoulder.”

  “The first reports we got didn't mention that; we just knew you'd been shot, gravely. But when you did so well in rehab, I relaxed.”

  “How'd you know how well I was doing there?”

  “You remember your therapist?”

  “Of course. Stephanie, toughest broad I – wait, one of yours?”

  “Yup.”

  “Oh, geez, Jake.”

  “C'mon, Pam, you've been with me long enough now to know we're almost everywhere, all across the world, not just in the US.”

  “I know you've got people all around, but not everywhere.”

  “No, just almost everywhere.”

  “Like Jill and Carie.”

  “Like Jill and Carie.”

  “The ditzy chicks.”

  “The best surveillance experts in the world.”

  “In the world?”

  “In the world. If anyone can bug your seventh-floor guy, it's them. In fact, they should be doing some preliminary runs past his house in just a few hours.”

  “Cool. Y'know, Jake, for some reason I'm hankering for that mimosa now.”

  - 26 -

  September 12, 2013

  10:07 a.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Hey, nobody drives gooder'n Gordon, asshole!”

  “Naw, Perry and Patrick are gooderer.”

  “Ah, you're fulla shit, doofus.”

  “Hey, who ya callin' doofus, faggot?”

  “Hey, Gordy.”

  “Wha- – oh, geez, hi, Dallas. Good to see you.”

  “And you. What was that all about?”

  “What?”

  “Those rednecky guys that just went by.”

  “Not sure; something about some guy named Gordon Asshole.”

  “What?”

  “Or Doofus Faggot.”

  “What are you – what?”

  “Just thinkin' about the difference a comma can make.”

  “Ah-ha.”

  “Ah.”

  “So how's Rosemary?”

  “Fine. She's sleeping in, should be here by noon or so.”

  “Big night last night?”

  “Late one, for sure.”

  “Good for her … and for you, I'd bet.”

  “Well” –

  “Oh, c'mon, Gordy; it's me.”

  “Okay. Yeah, for both of us.

  “Haven't seen you in months. Did you get your next book out?”

  “Yup; came out three – no, four weeks ago. Book tour started six weeks ago.”

  “How's it going?”

  “Grueling. I've got this week off and then back on again for another month. I sure need this break.”

  “Well, you've come to the right place. The water's warm, the beach is semi-quiet and the sun is out.”

  “It is quiet. What's up?”

  “September; it's our quietest month, right ahead of May, at least between Mother's Day and Memorial Day.”

  “And summer?”

  “Oh, that's right; you haven't been here for one. June, July and August, it's mostly locals, and we've got the Europeans, but nowhere near as busy as season.”

  “Ah. Well, this is super.”

  “Yup.”

  “How's your second book coming?”

  “Okay. Sondra sent me a first draft last week, and I should have the editing done in another couple weeks.”

  “You happy with it so far?”

  “Pretty much; she gets sorta flowery in the narration, so I've cut a lot of that out. And she's a little freaked out by how explicit and graphic your stuff is. Said she's had to take a lot of cold showers when she was working on that.”

  “How old is she?”

  “24, 25, something like that.”

  “Ah-ha. Hormones still running strong, and” --

  “Hi, Dallas. Welcome back.”

  “Oh, hi – sorry; I've forgotten your name.”

  “No problem. I'm Rona, and this is my husband, Joel.”

  “Ah, right. Hi, Rona, Joel.”

  “Look, Gordy. Some of the Jewish birds are back early.”

  “Jewish birds?”

  “Yeah. Segals.”

  “Ohhh, Rona, that's a groana.”

  “They loved it at the synagogue.”

  “Still a groana.”

  “Hi, Dallas.”

  “Hi – ah, Carie – and – Jill, right?”

  “Right. How ya doin'?”

  “Ready for a bit of peace and quiet. But good. And you two?”

  “Good.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Hey, Gordy, did you do that research?”

  “Hi, Joe. Yup. And you remember Dallas?”

  “Hi, Dallas.”

  “Hi, Joe.”

  “So what'd you find out?”

  “You might find this interesting, Dallas.”

  “What?”

  “All the counties in the state have to set up commercial zones in all their parks and beaches, and lift all their anti-business rules and regulations in those zones.”

  “So people can advertise and sell their stuff on the beach?”

  “Yup, as long as they stay within the zones. Here there are two of 'em. They run fifteen feet out from the foliage from ten feet north of the boardwalk up to the Lee County line and from ten feet south of the boardwalk down to that first gazebo.”

  “That one there?”

  “Right. And they have to do it by the first of October.

  “But I also found out that a lot of the county officials all around the state, including Collier and Lee, are mighty pissed at the idea; they filed lawsuits to stop it and they're dragging their feet on implementing it. They had to file maps of where the zones are supposed to be, but they're not making those public and they haven't issued any press releases. I had to call up to Tallahassee just to find out that much. I tried talking to the county attorney, but I was told he's unavailable, several times.”

  “Coward.”

  “Got that right, Joe. Hiding behind his position.”
<
br />   “And his gatekeepers. Like most petty bureaucrats.”

  “Got that right, Dallas.”

  “So what's their problem with the plan?”

  “I think most of 'em like giving out mandates, but not having 'em laid on 'em. Egos.

  “And they want to collect all kinds of fees and control what kinds of businesses will be allowed in the zones, what they can offer for sale, daily reports on sales, revenue-sharing, even a dress code.”

  “Meddling micro-managers.”

  “So true, Dallas, so true.”

  “Little mini-Mafias. 'Give us our vig,' just for removing roadblocks they've put in place. Nothing more than another mob shakedown.”

  “Got that right, Jill.”

  “And most of 'em are totally anti-small business, even though they pretend to be pro-jobs. Hypocrites.”

  “Yup.”

  “Like the council up in Fort Myers Beach, banning those little A-frame signs and banners that so many of their smallest businesses rely on. And then those assholes even want to regulate the height, color and font on all signs.”

  “Really, Joe?”

  “Yeah, Carie; saw it on the news the other night. Cape Coral, too.”

  “Cape Coral? What a bunch of assholes. They even ban American flags in their rights of way. A friend of ours lives up there, and he got a ticket for parking in his own driveway with his tires an inch – one single inch – onto his lawn, his OWN lawn.”

  “You're kidding, Rona.”

  “Nope. Talk about condo nazis; they're all city nazis up there. He wants to escape, get outa there as soon as he can.”

  “Can't blame him for that.”

  “But he's still so underwater on his house that he and his wife can't get out without taking a huge loss.”

  “Sometimes you need to take a loss to move forward, Rona.”

  “I'll tell him that, Gordy, but they're kinda wallowing in it all.”

  “Looking back? Shoulda, woulda, coulda?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Y'know, people say that hindsight is 20/20, but to me, I think it's masochistic, so unless you can learn something from it, it's a waste of time.”

  “And energy.”

  “And energy; got that right, Dallas.”

  “Speaking of energy, Gordy, how about” –

  “Why are you whispering, Dallas?”

  “Oh; just between us. How about we go over and give Rosemary a surprise wakeup?”

  “Hmm; yeah, I think she'd like that. Let's go.”

  “Oh, goodie!”

  “We'll be back in maybe an hour, gang. Can y'all keep an eye on our stuff?”

 

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