by Bella Juarez
“JJ, what’s in that glass that’s so interesting?” Gavin asked out of nowhere.
Holy fuck! Sugar’s going to get me killed someday. JJ hadn’t heard Gavin take the seat next to him. In fact, he hadn’t noticed the bar had filled considerably since he’d arrived.
“Got a lot on my mind, Badass,” JJ said.
“Supper’s waiting for me at home. Why don’t we go to the house and we can sit out back and talk? Rock told me to have a chat with you,” Gavin said with a knowing smile.
“All right,” JJ said.
“I’ll call Amy and let her know.”
“I’ll follow you there.”
* * * *
Irene hung up the phone. She’d decided to take Amy up on her invitation for dinner, even though she’d eaten so late. Thinking about James this afternoon had unbalanced her slightly and she needed the company right now. She got into her car and drove to Amy’s house. She walked into a pleasant smell. Amy had made her homemade pizza and was still running around the kitchen getting things done and prepared. Irene set down her purse and went to work helping Amy.
While they were making final preparations, Gavin stepped through the door. Irene turned and smiled at him and almost took a step backward when she saw the man behind him. James! Irene tried to remain expressionless as her mouth went dry. Irene glanced at Amy who smiled shyly, and Irene instantly knew Amy had set this up. She hadn’t told Amy about her last trip to San Diego, so there was no way for her to know that Irene never wanted to see James again. Irene was suddenly very dizzy.
“Irene!” Gavin said as he embraced her lightly. “JJ, this is Amy’s Aunt Irene Ortiz. Irene, Master Chief James Jones. We call him JJ,” Gavin said introducing them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Irene,” James said formally as he extended his hand.
Irene was frozen. She knew she had to move and eventually needed to say something. She cleared her throat as she recovered. “Chief Jones,” she said formally as she took his hand and shook it.
“JJ or James, whichever you prefer,” James said quietly.
Irene felt a jolt of electricity run through her body when they touched. She wanted so desperately to hate him for hurting her the way he had. She smiled slightly and turned away to what she was doing before Gavin walked in. Amy went to her when the men left the kitchen.
“Now Gavin knows you’ve met,” Amy said quietly.
“Mi hija, can you get me a glass of wine?” Irene asked Amy as she finished her task. A really big glass…
The meal was awkward and uneasy for both James and Irene. After dinner James and Gavin walked out back, leaving Irene and Amy to clean up. Amy had taken a call from the library, leaving Irene alone for a short time. She was scrubbing some pans when someone placed some dishes next to her. She didn’t need to turn around. She knew it was James.
“Thank you,” Irene said tersely.
“Irene, please listen—”
”What the hell are you doing here?” Irene exploded in an angry whisper.
“I have business with the man. So either we resolve this and get back together, or you deal with the fact that you’ll be seeing me more often,” James shot back quietly.
“James, I am never going back to you!” Irene said in an angry whisper.
“Then deal with this fucking situation, because I am not going away!” James snapped quietly. He was frustrated.
“Why did you do it?” Irene demanded.
James looked at the ceiling in a pleading look for patience. “I didn’t do anything wrong! And I’ll never admit to something I didn’t do just to make you happy!”
“Then what happened?” Irene demanded.
“I can’t tell you. And if you can’t trust me then you’re right, Irene, we don’t belong together.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
James looked away and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked at Irene squarely. “Irene, I would never hurt you, and I didn’t do anything wrong. When you decide you can believe that, call me. I’ll be waiting,” he said as he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Irene stood staring after James for a long time. Either James was a really good actor or he was telling her the truth, because he seemed as if he truly meant what he was saying. He was so adamant about what he was telling her. She had enough experience with kids and teachers to tell a lie from the truth. She could see it in their body language and hear it in the way they framed their words. If he’d been one of her teachers, she would’ve believed him because he seemed so genuine. Why couldn’t she let this go and trust what he was saying? She poured herself another glass of wine and went back to her task.
* * * *
JJ stared at the ceiling in his hotel room. He reached for the glass filled with scotch and took a long drink. He felt a little better about saying what he had to say to Irene. He was even encouraged by her anger because it meant she at least still felt something for him. But seeing her made him realize how much he missed her and how empty his life was without her. He heard his phone chime indicating he had a text message. He picked up the phone and looked at the message. He jumped to his feet, packed up, and was gone in less than five minutes.
Chapter Ten
1600 Barton Springs #2605
Austin, Texas
September 26, 2008/0501 Zulu
JJ arrived in Austin a little after midnight. He found Mick’s downtown condo and pounded on the door.
“Do you own a bloody watch?” Mick demanded as the door swung open to the very sleepy and irritated Englishman.
“What do I need a watch for? I can’t tell time. What did you find out?” JJ demanded as he walked past Mick into the swank condo.
“Are you blooming mental? It’s bloody midnight!” Mick protested. He followed JJ, who was already pacing in the spacious living room.
“You sent the text. What the fuck did you think I would do?” JJ demanded.
“You know something, mate, you’re really pushing the boundaries of our relationship,” Mick said, sitting on the couch.
“Mick! I’m tired, I’ve got a hangover, and I’m having issues with my woman, which has made me a little testy. I could’ve swam the Atlantic and found that fuckstick in MI-6 myself by now!” JJ snapped.
“You have a woman?” Mick asked with interest.
“Focus! You limey bastard! I didn’t come here for fucking therapy!” JJ roared.
“Right. Okay, your boy Azad is in Moscow. He hasn’t been in the United States, ever. In fact, when I threw that name out it made the janitor a little nervous. They told me Azad has not nor has he ever been in the good ole US of A. On the day you say he was in San Diego, he had just arrived in Iran after an interview with an old friend of yours in Istanbul. Apparently the janitor and his cleaning crew have taken a sudden interest in this bloke. Azad works in research and development.”
“Who did he have the interview with?”
“Sergei Vaslliev.”
JJ stopped and sharply turned to Mick. It was an old, familiar name with lots of bad memories. “Are you serious?” he asked stunned.
“Vaslliev and Jobrani had a sit-down in Istanbul. Apparently the Iranian government is now sending him to Moscow on some cock-and-bull science exchange program between Russia, Iran, and Pakistan. Hell of a cocktail, aye?” Mick said.
“I know what Vaslliev does. What does Jobrani do?” JJ asked, concerned.
“He’s a chemist in the Iranian Army’s research and development department. What do you think he does?”
“Pakistan, did you say?” JJ asked. Mick nodded. “Holy crap on a cracker,” he said lowly, shaking his head.
JJ rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to wrap his head around the implications of what he already knew with this new information from Mick. He had to think clearly and right now that wasn’t happening. He was tired and needed to pass out for a few hours before he tried to fit things together.
“Is there a hotel around here?” JJ asked.
“Come on, I’ve got a room where you can kip,” Mick said, standing.
“Thanks, Mick.”
The next day JJ awoke refreshed and to the smell of coffee brewing outside his bedroom. When he got to the kitchen Mick was standing in front of the stove making breakfast. He took the cup next to the coffeepot and helped himself.
“Breakfast?” Mick asked.
“Are you expecting to fuck me if you feed me?” JJ asked.
“It’d be the best ride of your life, old man,” Mick quipped.
JJ laughed and sat at the bar that looked into the kitchen. Mick plated him a full breakfast as they sat and talked about what was happening at BRAVO-ZULU.
“So tell me about this woman that’s got you knotted up,” Mick said with a grin.
“Jealous? Don’t worry, big boy. I’ve still got a soft spot in my heart for you.”
Mick laughed loudly. “She’s really fucked you, hasn’t she?”
“She’s really pissed off, that’s for sure. It’s better than when she left me. We’re making progress. She’s yelling at me instead of not talking to me anymore. You know what the fucked up part about all of this is? I’m really innocent this time,” JJ said, taking a sip of coffee.
“She must be something. You don’t usually get that attached, mate. You and Jake are two of a kind, love ’em and leave ’em.”
“She’s like nobody I’ve ever met, Mick.”
“You really are fucked.”
* * * *
JJ waited for Dixie at McP’s, a favorite SEAL watering hole in Coronado. He smiled as the bar went quiet. Dixie had just walked in. Most of the SEALs that were in the bar knew Dixie because his picture was plastered all over Coronado Naval Amphibious Base on all of the command boards. JJ’s picture was right underneath Dixie’s, but most of the men found him a lot more approachable than the awesome Admiral Campbell. Dixie slid into the booth seat that faced him.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, Admiral,” JJ quipped.
“Fuck you, JJ,” Dixie snapped. He hated the way most of his men kept him at arm’s length now. JJ called the waitress over and ordered a drink. “This isn’t very hidden, JJ.”
“Sometimes when you want to hide something put it in plain sight. No one will look there,” JJ said.
“What’s going on?” Dixie asked.
“I’ve got him, Dixie, and I’ve almost got enough to hang the bastard. I want you to let me go and right before I leave I’ll give you everything. What I have should be enough to put that motherfucker and his lying mother in jail.”
Dixie closed his eyes and shook his head. He took a long drink before saying anything. “JJ, I know you don’t like Rafe, but unless you have his fucking picture where you say he shouldn’t have been, then it ain’t happening.”
“Dixie, I know what it’ll take to hang that fucker and it doesn’t have anything to do with my personal feelings. This is serious shit I have. Sign my papers, Dixie, and then hang the bastard.”
JJ saw Dixie’s expression change. The admiral knew he was serious and really had the goods on Rafe Wilson. “All right, JJ. But if I need to bring you back, I will,” Dixie said.
“I’m moving to Austin, Dixie. Let me go to Rock’s group and serve there. I’ll be a liability when the shit hits the fan with Rafe,” JJ said.
“Austin, Texas? What the hell’s in Austin?” Dixie asked.
“My new job. We’re making this clean. Make it public knowledge that I was the one doing the investigating and have Rock turn it over to the JAG, since Rafe is his XO,” JJ said.
“All right, I need to find a new command master chief,” Dixie said.
“Call up McKenzie at Little Creek to be your new master chief, move Switchblade over to the Pentagon where he can keep an eye on the new JCS, and move MJ up to commander of Special Warfare Group Two,” JJ advised.
Dixie chuckled and took a drink. “What the hell am I going to do?”
“You’ll survive, Dixie. They’ll make you the next commander at SOCOM pretty quick here. When they do that, promote Rock to admiral and give him the command here in Coronado,” JJ said.
“Switchblade’s got more time than Rock,” Dixie pointed out.
“Rock’s a bigger prick than Switchblade. Rock will need that star. Have him make Switchblade his exec, that way Switchblade is in position to move up when you take Rock to the Pentagon,” JJ said.
“Pentagon?” Dixie asked.
“They’ll appoint you to the JCS eventually, Dixie. You need Rock to watch your back. Make him your chief of staff when you get there,” JJ said.
JJ had a knack for predicting the future. He could always tell who would be moving up and who would be moving away. When the war broke out in 2001, he had predicted to Dixie that he would be running Navy Special Warfare someday soon. Dixie laughed at the time but it had come to pass just as he said it would. When Dixie moved up to headquarters they had discussed at length who to promote and who to pass over. JJ always had the right guy in mind for the job that needed to be filled. That was one of the many reasons Dixie kept him so close.
Dixie put through JJ’s retirement package. He took some leave to find a place to live in Austin. He processed in with BRAVO-ZULU Security as the training coordinator for all tactical training the company would need to keep up the skills that were required of them. He dropped in on Rock while he was in Texas.
JJ started the process of selling his condo in Coronado. Unfortunately the housing market had bottomed out so he arranged instead for a property management firm to lease it for him. He was given a huge farewell, and his last day finally arrived. Instead of taking all that leave, he opted to take the pay. He had all the goods on Rafe at this point.
They’d be closing in on Rafe soon because the JAG was ready to prosecute. The most compelling piece of evidence was a traffic camera that Rafe and his hacker buddies failed to erase. It showed him coming out of the Hotel Del Coronado from the street at the time JJ said he was there.
The transition to Austin had been smooth and seamless. Rafe couldn’t touch JJ and it was too late to hurt Rock or Dixie. JJ was just turning in for the night when his cell rang. He looked at the number and frowned.
“Rock? What’s up?” JJ asked.
“Rafe Wilson is dead.”
“What! What the fuck happened?”
“He was in an accident and died from his injuries. I’m at Brook Army Medical Center I’ve just talked to the chaplain. They’re contacting his family now.”
“Are you sure it’s him, Rock? Did you see the body?” JJ demanded.
“For Christ’s sake, JJ, he’s dead!” Rock exclaimed.
JJ and Rock talked for a few minutes more. For the last three weeks he’d been feeding Rock the information they’d need to put Rafe away. Rock filled him in on everything he knew. When they ended the call he sat back and shook his head. Slick motherfucker figured out how to get out of the noose again! He wouldn’t be convinced until he saw Rafe Wilson’s dead body for himself.
JJ went through the motions of Rafe Wilson’s funeral at Arlington National Cemetery. It made him sick to know that a traitor was being given full military honors and was being buried on hallowed ground among true heroes. He carefully watched Kathy Wilson, Rafe’s mother. She looked grief stricken and lost.
When Mrs. Wilson was given the flag that draped her son’s coffin, she broke down and there was no question that it was heartfelt and very painful. JJ reconsidered his conspiracy theory. What would he do for a son in trouble? Would he lie to protect him? He looked around at the men he’d trained who were now going through the motions of burying one of their own. They were his kids. What would he do for Rock? Alex? Shaq? Gamez? They were his sons. He was conflicted because Rafe’s family was obviously going through a lot of pain. Let it die with him, JJ. Rafe really is dead and I need to let this go. I got what I wanted in the end…it’s over.
JJ tried to move on as he tackled his new job at BRAVO-ZULU. The job filled his days and most of his
evenings. He was starting up a program that had been previously outsourced to places like Blackwater. When he finally made it home for the evening, he couldn’t help thinking how close he was to Irene but how out of reach she was for him. Thank goodness his job consumed so much right now.
His life took a drastic turn a week before Thanksgiving.
“Aye!” Mick called from the doorway.
“What’s up, Mick?” JJ asked.
Mick had returned from England visiting his family before the holidays. Mick hated crowded, tight places, so he often traveled while he still had room to breathe.
“I need some alone time with you,” Mick said with a meaningful smile.
“Do you want to make out or fuck?” JJ asked as he logged off his computer.
“This may take a while, mate,” Mick said seriously.
JJ glanced at Mick and caught the seriousness of his expression. He grabbed his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. Mick drove him to the same diner where they’d talked before. Mick threw his cell phone into the console of his car and JJ threw his iPhone in as well.
“You remember our friend, Mr. J?” Mick asked.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Seems this chap is a bit of a magician. He seems to be able to be in two places at one time. The janitor is interested in talking with you about your Mr. J.”
“Well, my Mr. J is dead.”
Mick took out his wallet and took out a photograph. “Is this your Mr. J?”
The hair on the back of JJ’s neck rose as he stared at the picture. He was looking at a ghost. Mick had just produced a picture of Rafe Wilson. “When was this taken?” JJ asked quietly.
“Five days ago in Morocco. This Mr. J met with a Paki.” Mick wrote the name Bakri on a napkin. “He got a rather large sum of money, in cash, American cash. He was also given something that my Mr. J is working on with Mr. V, and the janitor is interested in knowing where it ends up.”
“Are you fucking serious?” JJ asked, disbelieving.
“Seems the reason why the janitor got so nervous was because number-one Mr. J is in deep.” Mick wrote on another napkin cover. “Mr. J hasn’t left his station in the motherland since he got there.” Deep cover in the covert world meant a very deep spy. These agents would live in the countries they were trying to infiltrate all their lives. It was very dangerous work. Very few of these agents ever made it out and lived to write their autobiography. The Azad Jobrani living in Moscow was in fact an MI-6 agent.
