Retribution

by Michael Byars Lewis

  “No,” Bethany said.

  “So, you drove all the way here, just to turn around and go back? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Bethany's jaw clenched, and her body tensed. Jason realized she didn't like to be questioned, and his last comment, he should have kept to himself.

  “You’re right. I should’ve stayed in Baton Rouge. But for some reason, I was dumb enough to drive all the way to New Orleans to see my husband.”

  Yup, she’s mad.

  “Listen,” Alicia interjected. “Let’s get going. I’m a little hungry too, and I’ve got something important I want to talk to both of you about.”

  7

  June 3, 1994

  * * *

  The three strolled along the cobbled sidewalks of the French Quarter to Mister B's Bistro, on the corner of Royal and Iberville. Jason and Bethany walked in front of her, holding hands. Alicia continued to size up the situation. A mother's instincts were rarely wrong. Bethany was not the girl she would have picked for Jason. His involvement in the fraternity exposed him to, well, hundreds of different girls in sororities. Couldn't he have found at least one to settle on? ROTC had distracted him from that pursuit. But somehow, Bethany came into his life.

  Originally from Houston, Bethany was a freshman at LSU when she started modeling. Through that, she worked in a few local commercials. She and Jason began dating in the fall, and within a year, Bethany had dropped out of school to pursue her career full time. Success was short lived. For whatever reason, the market in south Louisiana dried up. Bethany considered moving to New York or Los Angeles, but in the end, didn't possess either the courage, the talent, or the finances to make the leap. She turned to Jason instead, who accepted her with open arms. How could he not? She was beautiful. And he was a man. A gullible, receptive man. Almost as bad as his father.

  They reached the entrance to Mister B's and pushed through the glass doorway. The restaurant was half-full. Alicia asked for a booth away from the crowd. The three of them slid onto the forest-green leather seats, Jason and Bethany sat across from Alicia.

  The waitress sprung up quickly, and Alicia ordered a cosmopolitan, Bethany a Mister B's Orange Julius, and Jason simply a beer. They scanned the menu briefly, but their options were limited. All three of them ordered gumbo. When the waitress brought their drinks, they laughed and made small talk until their food was served.

  Jason poured Tabasco and pepper on his gumbo.

  “What are you doing?” Bethany said.

  “What?”

  “Why are you putting pepper on your soup?”

  “It’s not soup. It’s gumbo. And it needed pepper.”

  “If it’s in a bowl and it’s liquid, it’s soup.”

  “Not in this state.”

  “But you never even tasted it.”

  "Beth, I've eaten here dozens of times. I know just the right amount of Tabasco and pepper required to make this gumbo perfect." The dark-roux was cooked to the right consistency, poured generously over white rice. Pieces of shredded chicken with just the right amount of andouille filled the bowl. The aroma of the Cajun spice, garlic, and onions made his mouth water before he tasted it. He scooped a spoonful and leaned forward, blowing gently across the spoon. "See? Perfect." He shoved the spoon in his mouth and smiled as he chewed.

  Bethany giggled and shook her head.

  Halfway through the meal, he ordered a second round of drinks and another basket of bread. When they finished, they sat back and chatted. Alicia had watched the two of them throughout. They seemed to get along fine. She wondered how long it would last.

  “Bethany,” Alicia said, “before you arrived, I was telling Jason about a friend of mine.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jason said. “Bill, the guy with an airplane.”

  “Yes. Bill Wesson.” Alicia detected the smile fading from Bethany’s face. Bethany, she suspected, disliked Jason’s love of airplanes more than she did.

  “So, what about him?”

  Alicia shifted in her seat. “Bill has a B-25 airplane. It’s one that flew in World War Two. He’s in England right now. With the upcoming fiftieth anniversary of D-Day, he, along with thousands of others, are heading to France to commemorate the event.”

  “Cool,” Jason said. “The B-25 flew in both theaters of the war. That’s the plane that Jimmy Doolittle used for the raid on Tokyo. Is Bill doing a static display or flyby?”

  “Both.” Alicia looked at Bethany, who remained silent and grew more despondent as the conversation continued. “Which is what I wanted to talk to you two about.”

  Jason’s head tilted to the side slightly. She had his interest.

  “Bill is aware you’re a pilot and will be going to Air Force school next year—”

  “Mom, please, it’s called undergraduate pilot training. Not Air Force school.”

  “I’m sorry dear,” she said, giving Bethany a wink. “You know what I mean. Anyway, Bill is doing a flyby for the D-Day celebration on the morning of June sixth.”

  "Cool. But what's that got to do with us?" Jason said, with a quick glance at his wife.

  Alicia took a deep breath, and she felt the warmth radiate in her cheeks.

  “Bill has offered to let you fly with him on the fly-by.”

  Jason’s jaw dropped and Bethany, realizing she was being watched, faked a smile. Alicia began to think perhaps she could act after all.

  "I want to fly you both over, commercial of course, and put you up in a hotel outside of Fairford Royal Air Force Base. The plane will take off from there. Bill said you can ride on the plane on the fly-over. But when he brings the plane back, you can sit in the seat, and he will instruct you."

  Jason grinned. He looked at Bethany, whose fake smile faded.

  “Bethany, dear, don’t worry. You wouldn’t fly back on that old crate. You’ll have a round trip ticket.”

  "Mom, this. . . this is awesome. What do you think, Beth? A trip to England?"

  “Yeah, Jason. I’m happy for you.”

  “You mean, happy for us. We’re going to England.”

  “Yeah. About that . . .”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? You are clueless, Jason Conrad. I have a job. I have responsibilities.”

  “This job you worry about, you can quit if they don’t give you the time off. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  Alicia fought back a smile. She would feel better if Bethany stopped being a waitress. It presented opportunities and situations a young, beautiful, married woman shouldn’t be exposed to. She was glad Jason had said it and not her. Mother-in-laws had a harder time of recovering from such statements.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t go.”

  While she knew it was possible, it truly wasn’t the answer Alicia expected from Bethany. She thought she would gladly take the trip. The two never really had a honeymoon. They’d only been married for six months and didn’t have much money to do anything.

  Bethany straightened in her seat and exhaled through pursed lips. Jason sat with his hands clasped on the table.

  “I didn’t tell you yet,” Bethany said. “But I met a director. He wants to put me in his movie.”

  Jason raised his head.

  “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. He wants me to read for him next week. It-it’s what I’ve been waiting for.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. Jason reached up and wiped it away.

  She’s good, Alicia thought.

  "Don't misunderstand, I think you should still go, Jason. This is too good for you to pass up. I just can't go."

  “Beth, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? You can talk to me about anything.”

  “Yeah, anything as long as it’s about airplanes.”

  "That's not true. And it's not fair. I've worked four years to get my pilot training slot, and all you do is criticize me about wanting to be a pilot."

  “I’ve worked four years too.”

  “I know.”

  “You
’re a pilot right now. Isn’t that enough?”

  “A private pilot. And no. It’s not enough. I want to be the best.”

  “So do I, Jason. We both have dreams. Unfortunately, our dreams are taking us in different directions next week. Jason, please understand. I would go to England with you in a heartbeat. But this is my opportunity. It’s not fair to me to pass this up. And it’s not fair to you to miss your flight.”

  Alicia was impressed. The young woman showed some maturity. Bethany’s assessment was correct, but Alicia still had doubts about her reasoning. They were not only headed in different direction next week; their lives were heading in two different directions. And Jason couldn’t see that. She didn’t know what to think of this relationship. It was a struggle, but she knew it was best not to interfere.

  The couple discussed the trip for a few minutes, Alicia wisely chose not to engage in the discussion. Eventually, it was decided Jason would go, and Bethany would stay behind and meet with the director.

  “What’s the timeline on this, mom?”

  “You fly to England on the fourth, arriving the morning of the fifth. The flyover is the next morning and lands in France. After a short static display, you fly back to Fairford. On the seventh, you start to head back. Bill said it would be about a four-day trip to fly to New Orleans.”

  "Back on the eleventh. . . what do you think, Beth? Can you do without me for that long?"

  “I’ll try, baby,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.

  Alicia noticed Bethany’s disposition had changed. She just didn’t know if it was because she was young, or because she was a better actress than she thought.

  8

  June 3, 1994

  * * *

  Sterling sat on a bench in Jackson Square, shaded by the towering oak. The popular attraction was crowded, filled with tourists and merchants alike. It had been a busy day. He had sent David to Baton Rouge early in the morning, then spent several hours at the bank. By the time David returned, Sterling finished his business and headed here.

  He had called Alicia from the limo and now waited for her on a bench outside of Saint Louis Cathedral. The historic church had been on this spot in one form or another since 1721 and had become one of New Orleans more prominent landmarks. Sandwiched between Pirate’s Alley and Pere Antoine Alley, the cathedral overlooks Chartres Street, Jackson square, past Decatur Street, and the levee of the mighty Mississippi.

  To his left, an artist drew a cartoon image of two young children. The parents stood behind the artist watching him work, and the children giggled at their expressions. To his right, an elderly black man, in a weathered suit with no tie, tapped his foot as he plucked on an old six-string guitar, singing an unfamiliar blues tune.

  It was almost six-thirty in the evening by the time Alicia arrived. He saw her on Saint Peters Street as she rounded the state museum, The Cabildo, where the Louisiana Purchase transfer had taken place in 1803.

  Sterling smiled as she approached. Beautiful women always made him smile, and Alicia Conrad was no exception. Yes, Jonathan Bowman had excellent taste. Under different circumstances, he might try and bed her himself, but he had more important priorities.

  “Sterling,” she said flatly.

  “Hello, Alicia. Don’t you look lovely?”

  She stared at him, blankly. "What do you want, Sterling?"

  “Direct. I like that,” he said as he stood. “Let’s take a walk.” Sterling led her into the park, into the outer ring around the statue of Andrew Jackson sitting majestically on his horse.

  “As you know, Jonathan announced his intention of running for president last week,” Sterling began.

  “I heard. I was expecting something like this eventually.”

  "His campaign will be a contentious one, no doubt. The party seems to think Dole deserves his turn."

  “But you think differently?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m convinced there’s no way Dole can beat Clinton, regardless of what he does in the White House. The only way to beat him, is to run someone who is like him. Only better.”

  He looked to his right as they strolled around the circle. Her gaze, forward, never casting him a glance.

  “And your answer is Jonathan?”

  “Yes. He’s a man of the times. He is the only Republican who can defeat this president. He’s better educated, more experienced, has a military background, and comes from a state that carries the most electoral votes behind California and New York. On paper, he’s the superior candidate. But that won’t get him elected.”

  “Really?” she said. He detected the sarcasm in her voice. Her patience was waning, he could tell.

  “Alicia, the American voter is getting dumber every day. They don’t want to research who to vote for, they want things quick and easy. They want to vote for someone they admire, not respect. And the women’s vote will be key this go around.”

  “Women?”

  “Yes, women. Jonathan is the man who meets all the requirements. Throw his resume out the window. He’s tall, handsome, witty, and intelligent. When he walks into a room, his commanding presence garners everyone’s attention. And he can play the guitar. There’s not a better candidate. Anywhere.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got quite the man crush.”

  Sterling ignored the jab. “The only thing is—he must be scandal free. And the only scandal Jonathan has in his past—”

  “Is me.”

  “Yes. And your son.”

  Alicia’s stopped. Her lips tightened, and she squinted. “What’s my son have to do with anything?”

  “Your son contacted Jonathan last month, inviting him to his commissioning, asking him to meet his wife. He’s been trying to establish a relationship that is totally inappropriate.”

  “How can a son reaching out to his father be inappropriate?”

  “He didn’t just reach out. He invited him to a formal ceremony. With the military. To meet his cute little wife. Do you realize how that would go over if the public found out? And the kicker is, the bastard considered it.”

  “That sounds like Jonathan,” she said.

  “Yes. He wanted to use the all-American couple like a poster for his campaign.”

  “And you didn’t think it was a good idea?”

  “It’s a scandal, Alicia. You know better. There is no knowledge that Jonathan has a child. Particularly, one born out of wedlock. We are marketing Jonathan as a ladies man—a bachelor. But if word leaks out, it could be disastrous.”

  “Because we exist?”

  “Yes. But the bigger scandal is that you and your son have been kept secret all this time. It won’t go over well. It would get messy.”

  “And you’re cleaning up all his messes?”

  Sterling beamed. “I pride myself on being able to eliminate problems before they get out of hand.”

  “Like the men of Century Avionics?”

  Sterling’s smile broadened. Alicia was always sharp. “A most unfortunate event. A shame no one will find the remains of the aircraft.”

  “Yes, a shame.” Her voice fluttered. “You know who those men were. They did business with Jonathan his first year in congress.”

  “Alicia, there are so many people I have come in to contact with over the years, surely you can’t expect me to remember them all.”

  "I know you, Sterling," she said. He could see the fear in her eyes. "You remember everyone you think you need to."

  “That’s quite the compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. These were bad men. Their dealings have always been questionable. Even though we were divorced at the time, Jonathan spoke to me about . . . things. Those men had something they could hold over Jonathan’s head.”

  “Did they?” Sterling feigned. “I was not aware of that. It seems you have access to the exact same information. I certainly hope you don’t find yourself in similar circumstances.” His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed, drilling straight through her with laser-like precision.

/>   Alicia stopped. Her complexion turned white, and her hands shook.

  “But there is always a silver lining in a tragedy,” Sterling said.

  He noticed her head jerk toward him, then away just as fast.

  “The sudden demise of the executive leadership at Century Avionics left a valuable company listless. Like a sailboat at sea with no wind.”

  “And you saved them?”

  Sterling laughed. “No, my dear. I didn’t save them. I bought them. This morning. At a fraction of the company’s value. They will merge with one of my subsidiaries, a defense contractor developing experimental robotics. The new company will be called Century Aero-bot and will soon be one of the nation’s fastest growing companies.

  "But enough about me. We were discussing the poor judgment of the former executives of my new acquisition."

  “I thought we were discussing what was damaging to Jonathan’s campaign?”

  Sterling ran his hand along the side of his perfectly groomed silver hair. “I’ve always admired your boldness, Alicia. Yes, we were. I can’t imagine a mysterious ex-wife appearing out of nowhere, claiming to have information about a company her ex-husband did business with over twenty years ago. Can you?”

  She paused. “No.”

  "And the fact that America's most desirable political playboy was once married and had a child after he divorced is more damning." He stared deeply in her eyes. "That's a problem that should be avoided, don't you think?"

  She swallowed hard and looked at the ground. “Yes. But leave my son alone. He never asked for any of this.”

  “Actually, my dear, he did. That’s why I’m here. I’m concerned about you, and your son’s wellbeing.”

  She trembled. “Don’t.”

  Sterling clenched his teeth. “Alicia . . . for the sake of his father’s campaign, tell your son to back off.”

  9

  June 5, 1994

  * * *

  Jason sat in the top of the faded red double-decker bus, watching the rolling parsley green hills. Once the bus had left Gatwick, it worked its way out of London and on to Fairford Royal Air Force Base, outside of Gloucestershire. There were six other passengers on board, all headed for the same place. He never realized his impression of England had been based on the World War II movies he'd seen; gray, depressing, and lifeless. But the countryside was beautiful.