by Bianca D’Arc
Then, Bob Frowith, the replacement, had been appointed, with little to no government experience. He’d been a friend of the governor’s, supposedly, and had parlayed that friendship into the appointment, with the hopes that when they held the next election, he’d be able to hang onto the seat.
The fact that Frowith seemed to have a longstanding prior acquaintance with the deputy director—a man named Vargas Slatharn—was somewhat suspicious to Marlon, though it could have been explained easily enough by their both being from the same region of California. Perhaps they had crossed paths in political circles.
Marlon tried to find out more about their relationship as they played, but he had to be circumspect with his questions, lest he raise suspicion. Kinkaid was cagey, seeming to watch everyone like some sort of jungle cat eyeing his prey as they played each hole. Marlon wasn’t really sure if it was just Kinkaid’s nature to be competitive, or if he was watching everyone so closely because he had suspicions of his own. Either way, he was a cool customer. Marlon only noticed his intense scrutiny because Marlon was doing the same. He doubted whether the political men realized they were being observed and evaluated.
Admiral Morrow was another story. Cagey didn’t begin to describe him. He was downright spooky. He was pleasant enough and played a mean round of golf, but he kept his conversation to light topics, never giving away any information—even when questioned directly. He simply deflected the random inappropriate inquiries and turned the conversation back to safer topics.
The fact that these government officials would go so far as to try to get the admiral to talk about things that should only be discussed in closed committee rooms was a bit shocking to Marlon. He supposed he could attribute the senator’s indiscretion to the fact that he was new and not very experienced in the political process. The deputy director, however, should have known better.
Marlon tucked his observations away. He would be filing his report soon, and he’d be sure to document this conversation as completely as possible. Unless, of course, the admiral ordered him not to, for some reason.
This whole situation was strange. Was the admiral hoping to use Marlon and Jeff as witnesses to the fact that the two politicians were asking things they shouldn’t be asking? Or was there some deeper game going on here?
Marlon consulted with Jeff throughout the game, filling his partner in on the irregularities and getting his opinions. Jeff was swimming, as advertised, so he had plenty of time to talk while he did laps.
When the golf game ended—with Slatharn as the winner and recipient of the wagers they’d had on the outcome—the politicians begged off drinks but said they’d catch up with the others later. Marlon announced his intention to hit the pool, and to his surprise, both Morrow and Kinkaid agreed. With a quick stop in their rooms to change into swimming attire, the three reconvened by the pool a few minutes later.
Jeff had finished his workout and was sitting on one of the lounge chairs drip-drying when Marlon arrived. He’d already given his partner the heads up and discussed potential strategies for how to handle the next hour or so.
All for naught, as it happened. Kinkaid arrived at the pool with the petite woman who’d accompanied him the night before. She was in a swimsuit and dove into the water almost as soon as they arrived. Marlon and Jeff both watched her slice through the pool with precision, as if she’d been born to the water.
Kinkaid kept walking until he was standing next to Jeff’s lounge chair. Marlon made the introductions. Jeff stood to shake Kinkaid’s hand, and Marlon got a good chance to observe the eccentric billionaire’s posture and physique, in comparison to his partner’s. Jeff was tall and lean with thick muscles—a perfect swimming machine. Kinkaid had a rougher quality to his build. Sleek and tall, but bulkier. Wilder.
“Don’t mind my cousin,” Kinkaid said as he gestured toward the water. “She was born to swim, and this pool is a particular delight since it’s salt water. You don’t find that very often in these kinds of establishments.”
Marlon wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but he just nodded in agreement. Kinkaid suggested they move to one of the tables with upright chairs, and Marlon and Jeff followed his lead. Kinkaid, somewhat suspiciously, picked the same table where they had met with the admiral the night before.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Admiral Morrow arrived only a moment later, as they were still taking their seats. He ordered a round of drinks for them all and casually flipped Marlon and Jeff a hand sign that meant the location was still secure. How he knew that, they could not know, but Morrow, it was said, had been a top operative in his day. His three sons were even now some of the Spec Ops community’s finest, and had built reputations of their own.
“I suspect Admiral Morrow’s already given you the sign, somehow, but I can verify that this table is secure,” Kinkaid said. “No listening devices, and I don’t believe any cameras in the area have high enough resolution to be able to let someone read our lips. There could be a spike mic somewhere, but I doubt it. There’s too much to watch here and not enough watchers. As long as we don’t do anything to draw particular attention to ourselves, I think we should be okay for some preliminary discussions.”
“What’s he talking about?” Jeff asked Marlon telepathically.
“No clue. He was cagey on the golf course, but nothing more,” Marlon replied the same way. “Let’s let the admiral be our guide, for the moment.”
“Good idea.”
Morrow leaned forward, elbows on the table after he accepted his drink from the waiter who came around. He kept his glass near his mouth while he talked, possibly to foil anyone who might be close enough to try to read what he was saying from the movement of his lips. Or maybe he was just thirsty and couldn’t wait to get a sip of that drink—which was what it looked like. Morrow was good, if he was able to fake that convincingly.
“What you both need to know is that Sam’s on our side. I asked him to get those other two men away from the house for a bit,” Morrow said.
“While we were playing, I had an associate search their rooms. She’ll be along shortly, to give us her report,” Kinkaid said, nodding toward the pool where the woman he’d arrived with was still swimming.
“Wait a minute—” Jeff objected in Marlon’s mind. He didn’t even have to finish the thought. Marlon knew what his partner was going to say, and felt the same.
“With all due respect, Admiral,” Marlon said quietly but with firmness. “We do our own investigations.”
Morrow was nodding. “I know that, son, but the mission has changed. The criminal element we were expecting didn’t show. That means we can’t get proof of any relationships they might have with the politicians we suspect. I now have reason to believe some much deeper game is going on here and there are forces in play that you don’t understand.”
“And she does?” Jeff asked, looking at the small woman who had just emerged from the pool and was toweling off as she walked toward them.
Morrow’s lips tightened like he was grinding his teeth, but his tone was calm when he spoke. “Just let’s listen to what she has to say. Sam’s got a quality operation, and people who can do things you can’t. Best to take advantage of every opportunity.”
Kinkaid spoke up as the woman walked around the end of the pool, coming closer with a casual walk that drew male eyes. She knew damned well what she was doing. She wanted the attention on her sex kitten act, rather than the shrewd gaze that belied her true abilities. She was Kinkaid’s equivalent of an agent or investigator—whatever he called her position within his business empire. Marlon would bet his best pair of boots on it.
“Before you ask, I have a special interest in the two we played golf with. They’ve both been pushing for some new legislation that just doesn’t make any sense,” Kinkaid told them.
Jeff chuckled. “Since when does anything in Washington make sense?”
Kinkaid nodded and smiled. “You’ve got a good point there, but this is even more nonsensical than most
measures. Unless you suspect what they’re really targeting.” He cleared his throat and put one hand on the table as he leaned in to pick up his drink. “On the surface, the bill the new senator is championing looks like some foolishness of the type usually dreamed up by wild idealists who are new to government. It’s the cetacean protection act, and it has provisions in it that have little to do with whales and everything to do with the military.”
“Whales and the military? You mean like that beluga whale that escaped from the Russians and has been entertaining people in Norway for the past few months?” Jeff asked.
The story had been well publicized on the internet of a whale that had shown up with a camera harness strapped to his back and little knowledge of how to survive in the wild. He’d become a favorite of tourists and locals alike and, under the laws of Norway, was now being fed on a regular schedule so he would not suffer.
“That’s the story he used to start getting support for his measure, but there are things hidden in the legalese that would severely limit the military in several areas. Not only that, but he supports other legislation that is downright dangerous to our internal security as a country, and makes it very difficult for a citizen like me to do business on the world market, while providing no protections going the other way,” Kinkaid said in a quiet, urgent voice. “Things are being forced through that no sane person would want, if they truly understood the opaque language in the new laws. Frankly, I fear for the country. I’m a businessman now, but I’m still a patriot, gentlemen. I’ve operated on the world stage for a while and see more of what’s going on than most.”
“What do you think?” Marlon asked Jeff, even as he eyed Kinkaid’s earnest expression.
“My father thinks very highly of Kinkaid,” Jeff replied, somewhat cautiously.
“Mine too,” Marlon agreed. “But what do we make of this situation?”
“Too early to tell,” Jeff replied as the lovely cousin finally arrived at their table.
All the men stood politely as another chair was fetched and brought over so she could join them. Kinkaid introduced her as Kaitlyn McCall, and she said hello to each man with a serene smile.
“Kaitlyn, please tell us all what you found in your travels,” Kinkaid said, sitting back to let his cousin take center stage.
“Well,” she began, “there was an awful lot of cash in the deputy director’s refrigerator, and it had residue of some kind of drug on it.”
“Cocaine?” Marlon guessed. “I’ve heard that a large percentage of U.S. currency is contaminated with traces of cocaine.”
“No,” Kaitlyn replied quickly. “It was some kind of knockout drug. When I sniffed the bills, I felt sort of queasy and faint.”
“Like chloroform?” Jeff asked, his gaze intent at this development.
Kaitlyn nodded and smiled, keeping up the pretense of a light conversation to anyone who might be watching. “Like that, but something much stronger. And it had an organic scent. Like something made in a far off land, not in a local laboratory.”
“About how much money are we talking about?” Marlon wanted to know. He figured maybe a few thousand, which might be explained away somehow.
“Well over a hundred thousand,” Kaitlyn replied immediately. “I didn’t stop to count it all, you understand, but there was a lot of it, and it was all large-denomination bills.”
Jeff sat back, and Marlon was glad to see his partner smile at the pretty girl as if they were just flirting and talking about the weather. Marlon himself was having a rough time hiding his concern.
“As for the newly appointed senator, he has some rather…um…odd choices in underwear in his suitcase. I suspect you’ll find his taste runs to the peculiar in intimate moments, and that’s all I’m prepared to say about that, in a public place like this.” She lowered her lashes in a pseudo-flirty way that went well with the blush on her cheeks.
Kinkaid reached over and patted his cousin’s hand. “You did well, Kaitlyn. Thank you. And I’m sorry I had to ask you to do that.”
She looked up at Sam and smiled. “No problem, cuz. I’m glad to be of service.” She stood up, and the men followed suit. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get changed. I felt a little grungy after the things I saw in that man’s suitcase. The swim helped, but I think I need a long, hot shower and a scrub brush to really feel clean again. See you at dinner, Sam.” She smiled at her cousin then nodded to the others. “Gentlemen.”
They watched her go, retaking their seats after she left the table. Sam frowned but hid it after only a moment. “Just so you know,” he said, “Katy isn’t generally a prude. Whatever was in that suitcase had to be pretty hardcore to inspire that kind of reaction from her.”
They discussed Kaitlyn’s report for a few more minutes, but their talk was interrupted when Maya walked into the pool area. She saw them immediately, her eyes widening a bit when she realized who they were sitting with, but she hesitated only briefly before walking toward them.
The men stood again, and Marlon made the introductions, just to be polite. Kinkaid and Maya seemed to already know each other, but it was her words to the admiral that had Marlon and Jeff scratching their heads.
“I’ve heard good things about your boys,” Maya said as they shook hands. “I hope they’ll have time to visit our town soon.”
“I’m expecting to hear from at least one of them any day now,” the admiral replied. “Let John know, I’ll call him soon.”
“That’s great news.” Maya beamed at the older man. “I’ll definitely give him a heads up. Thank you.”
“Sounds like there’s more going on in that little town than they’re letting on,” Jeff observed.
“And, if it involves the admiral and his sons, then it’s something big that they want to keep quiet. Those Morrow boys are even darker black ops than we are. And, they’re soloists.” Marlon agreed.
Both men knew it was rare, indeed, for an operative to go solo. Special Forces almost always acted in small units or, at the very least, as a duo. And, it wasn’t quite legal for a member of the armed forces to be asked to do anything official on U.S. soil. Most of the time, the teams of the Gemini group were tasked with foreign missions, though they had been lent out on very rare occasions to the CIA and FBI for their special investigative skills. Nobody within those agencies knew exactly what they were, but they had been pleased with the results, which advanced their investigations that had otherwise been stalled.
Marlon suspected this little mission wasn’t exactly sanctioned by anyone or anything official, but then, they hadn’t really been sent in undercover. They were portraying themselves, after all. Openly revealing their true identities, which was something they never did on an op. However, any intelligence information they happened to pick up was fair game for their employers. It was a fine line, but neither Marlon nor Jeff had any problem with it in this particular case. After all, Uncle Sam was paying their way in the tournament, and they were on the clock salary-wise, though neither expense would ever appear on any official expense report or budget.
Their presence was so deeply hidden in black books, they had been the next best thing to ghosts ever since they had volunteered for the Gemini Project. Oh, they still held rank as Navy SEALs and were ostensibly still part of one of the teams, but they were on permanent assignment to Gemini, which wasn’t reported anywhere except the blackest of black budgets. After all, they were specialists, with highly classified skills.
The Morrow brothers were rumored to be specialists, also. Though nobody seemed to know exactly what their special skills entailed. Not even those who had worked with them in the past. The Morrow brothers worked solo, even when partnered with a team, and the only times they seemed to work in a pair or trio, it was only with each other.
Having spent some time with their father in a social setting now, Marlon began to understand that whatever it was that made the admiral so spooky had probably been passed down to his boys. He had strange eyes, and there was something
not quite…human? Though that was impossible, Marlon knew. He didn’t usually have an overactive imagination, but something about Admiral Morrow triggered fanciful ideas about magic and sorcery.
Marlon well knew that was nonsense. Although he and Jeff—and the other members of Gemini—had been able to develop what other people might consider a magical skill, it had been done through the use of science. Nothing more. Science, and hard work, training their minds as they had trained their bodies. Discipline and intense effort.
While Jeff and Marlon had been considering the implications of Maya’s words with the admiral, the conversation had shifted. They wouldn’t be learning anything more about the senator or deputy director at this gathering. The talk turned to the tournament and the player standings. Marlon discovered that he and Jeff would both be playing against Kinkaid in the first round of the night’s action.
Before too much longer, both Kinkaid and the admiral excused themselves from the table, leaving just Marlon, Jeff and Maya. There wasn’t a lot of time before dinner, so they opted to go back to their rooms to change and meet again in the dining room. Jeff had asked if Maya had to check in with Abernathy, but she’d said she’d already taken care of that. She was free until sunset, and she wanted to spend the time with them.
Marlon’s heart soared when he heard her words. Something about Abernathy and her particular phrasing stuck in his mind, but he shook it away when she said she wanted to spend more time with them. It was early days yet, but they might just have found something very special, indeed.
The rest of the evening proceeded much like the night before. They had dinner together, then Maya took off to change into another stunning gown—golden and shimmery, this time—and get Abernathy before she appeared with him in the card rooms. There was no chance to speak to her before the games started, and then, both Marlon and Jeff were too busy playing and doing their job observing the room and the players to do much else.
Play had intensified since the night before. Most of the hobbyists had been eliminated from serious contention, and the players that were left were vying with each other for those top positions. As the night wore on, more and more were eliminated from the tournament.
