His name was Tariq, which wasn’t his real name, but something that was considerably shorter than his real name, or so the man told him. Corrigan knew enough to understand that although his henchman was from the Middle East, he was a naturalized U.S. citizen. His knowledge of Middle Eastern politics was invaluable in dealing with foreign companies and kingdoms.
The competitive nature of Corrigan’s business meant that he was at war with someone or some Board of Directors or ruling family every day. It paid to know as much as possible about either the enemy or the prey, and the man with the alligator briefcase was very good at digging up details that could be exploited for Oakwood Partners’ advantage.
He’d found Tariq several years ago when one of his wealthy clients, an Iranian relative of the old Shah, suspected her husband was having an affair and had hired Tariq to find out. And he did. The job was done professionally, without the torrid photographs but with just enough detail and surveillance to make the case. She was able to excise her cheating spouse before he could organize a takeover of her family’s fortune, doing it all without any scandal hitting the papers or affecting the value of her portfolio.
Corrigan considered the handling of his client’s case a thing of beauty, so ever afterwards Tariq became Oakwood’s inside henchman, an important element in his recipe for success. Tariq told him he was divorced and had no children. However, one day when they were chatting he’d let slip that he had family inside Syria.
Raymond had decided he personally wasn’t the marrying kind because he never trusted anyone he couldn’t pay. Love was expensive and very messy, often foolish. He’d seen lives and fortunes ruined because of it.
The heart is the most vulnerable, the weakest part of a man’s soul. Tariq had told him he was a wise man.
Corrigan had a gift when it came to making good decisions, sometimes very tough ones, but he never did things on an emotional hunch that he couldn’t back up with evidence. Tariq brought certainty to his world.
Therefore, today’s job was different. He wasn’t asking Tariq to check on the dirty little secrets of a competitor or client. He needed to identify or rule out paternity. He trusted Tariq with this information because he paid him. And paid him very well.
Corrigan had a plastic baggie with a water cup inside. He handed it to Tariq.
“The person I need tested drank out of this cup. I believe he’s the only person to do so.”
“And what are we going to match it with?” Tariq’s cool demeanor, the way his accented words cut to the meat of the matter in an instant, told Corrigan he didn’t leave anything to chance or possible misunderstanding. Tariq did not guess.
“Mine. I want to know if he is my son.”
Tariq didn’t flinch. He never flinched. “We’ll need a swab. I don’t have the testing kit here. You should have told me. I would have been better prepared.”
“Not over the phone. Never over the phone.”
“Why is this so important to you?” Tariq asked. He dished out a clipped smile, the first one Raymond had seen in many months.
“Wouldn’t you want to know your own son?”
Tariq examined his fingernails. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t pay me for that information. I am not your client. I am your employee.”
The steely answer left Raymond in shivers.
Tariq tried to smile again, perhaps reconsidering his answer. “I apologize. I should not have asked you.”
“I don’t have a problem telling you, my friend, if I may call you that after all these years.”
Tariq bowed humbly.
“I tried to find him some twenty-five years ago. She was not my wife at the time.”
“Nor subsequently.”
“Correct. She simply vanished. After years of searching, I gave up, thinking that perhaps they both perished somehow. There was no trace of them. Not like today. It would be easier today. But then, all I knew was that she had a son.”
“Who told you this?”
“Someone sent me a note. All it said was that I had a son.”
“You still have this note?”
“Somewhere in my things at home. Yes. I think I can find it.”
“If you do, I shall have it analyzed. It could be an important part of the puzzle.”
Tariq searched around the room and found another water pitcher, with two plastic glasses encased in sterile bags next to it. He grabbed one water glass unpeeled the bag, handing it carefully to Corrigan without touching the cup. “Spit in it and I’ll use that.”
“Don’t you need blood work?”
“We can follow up that way, but this is 99.999% accurate.”
Corrigan did as he was told and handed the cup back to Tariq, who double-wrapped it in the second bag, setting it in front of him on the table.
“Now, anything else I need to know? You have a rare disease or familial trait?”
“Our blood type, both of us have AB positive. I think less than 3% of the population has that type. I have not verified that, just something I overheard.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“At the hospital. We were in the same room together.”
“Okay. Fate then, is that correct?”
“I don’t believe in fate. I make my own.”
“Indeed you do, but not this one, Mr. Corrigan.”
“So no one needs to know about this. As you can imagine, this could cause a stir.”
“Part of my fee is the guarantee my of silence. What you do with the information is your business. I don’t ask if there is permission granted. I take the items and have the analysis done.”
Corrigan passed Tariq an envelope from the tray table next to him. “This is your usual. Let me know if you need more.”
Tariq examined the cash without expression, put it back in the envelope, and slipped it inside the briefcase along with the two cups. “It’s adequate. I should be able to get the results in two days. You’ll still be here or are you going back to New York?”
“I’m due to stay here about a week, they say. I want to wait until I know for sure before I talk to him again.”
“He lives here in Los Angeles?”
“San Diego. Kid’s in the Navy.” Corrigan decided not to tell Tariq what Rory did for a living except on general terms.
“Understood.” Tariq rose, bending over to shake Corrigan’s hand. That’s when he noticed the man wore cowboy boots.
“Well, I never pegged you for a cowboy.”
“I’m not.”
“Never seen you wear boots before, Tariq. Don’t see much of that in California, either.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. Depends on where you look.”
After the man left, Corrigan thought about the woman he knew to be Rory’s mother. Though he’d spent a lot of money trying to find her, she’d vanished without a trace. But she did go to college in Portland. He’d never been to Oregon. He wondered if she was still there.
Derek visited with him later and told him Rory was admitted and was scheduled for surgery in the morning. Corrigan decided not to add any more burden to the one the young man was carrying. He turned on his hot spot and checked his computer until he found messages that snagged him. He buried himself in work. It was going to be a long two days.
Chapter 18
‡
Megan and Lindsay agreed to meet for coffee before Megan opened the store. She’d not slept much the night before, remembering Rory’s call. Megan had been too tired to read, and just as she’d drop off the dog would start up again and startle her. She woke up this morning groggy.
“Hey there,” Lindsay said. Megan handed her the latte she’d already ordered. “Thanks,” she said as she raised her cup to her.
“So like I told you, I got a message from Rory last night.”
“You call him back?”
She shook her head. She’d thought about it. “He said he was turning in early. This morning is the surgery. He indicated he’d c
all me. Was very clear on that.”
Lindsay frowned again, deep in thought. “Brady’s supposed to let me know.” Lindsay angled her head until Megan made eye contact. “You okay?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“This doesn’t change anything.”
“I just hope the surgery goes well. Maybe it’s nerves I’m feeling. I know what being in good physical condition means to him.”
“And we don’t talk about that. Remember?”
“That’s right.” Megan watched Lindsay look over the top of the panel to the empty bookstore. “How do you do it, Lindsay? I mean, what do you do when he’s gone?”
“Get together with girlfriends. I work out more. Try to eat less. Try to get more rest.”
“I guess I’d pretty much turn into a bookworm,” Megan laughed.
“Turn into one? You are one now. I can’t imagine how you get anything done as it is.”
“I pretty much live for books, I guess. Except last night it didn’t help much.”
Lindsay reached over and took Megan’s hand. “The waiting is the hard part. Always is. But it passes, and when it does, it makes all the waiting worth it.”
On her lunch break, Megan went to the bank. The news was reporting a San Francisco humanitarian worker and a banker, a friend of the family, were captured and being held prisoner in Syria.
‘Pentagon sources say a Special Operations unit had been on standby, but no reported movements were currently underway.’
“Why don’t you tell them everything?” she whispered. Every day a kidnapping or killing was broadcast. She felt for the women and children caught up in the conflict, the millions of refugees whose lives were forever altered by the fighting that had now gone on for nearly a whole generation. The reports were more desperate. Younger and younger men and now women and children were being used.
She knew these types of reports meant that Rory and his Teammates were going to be in harm’s way soon, and, as usual, were in high demand. Now that she’d met him, everything about world affairs bothered her. Lindsay had told her the same thing this morning.
“You read or hear something about downed forces and you wonder. Or an accident on a mission, or a hostage rescue gone bad, and your mind goes there. You sort of hold your breath until you hear those wonderful words, even if it’s on your cell as a recording in the middle of the night. I’m stateside. Those are the most wonderful words in the English language!”
The rest of the afternoon the store was busy, which was a godsend.
Just before she got ready to leave, she got the call she’d been hoping for. This time it was Brady.
“How did it go?”
“It went well. The doc was pleased. He’s resting now, in a little pain, but his femur wasn’t as damaged as they feared, and they think he’ll be quick to recover.”
“That’s great news. I’ve wanted to call him, but didn’t, you know, want to interfere.”
“Probably wouldn’t have gotten through anyway. He’s got a lot on his plate.”
She felt her pulse quicken with that remark.
“I’d be surprised if he calls anyone over the next few days. He’s pretty preoccupied. Just letting you know.”
Thanks for caring about how I feel, Brady, but I knew this was coming.
Megan took a deep breath in and bucked up for a chipper response. “You guys coming home soon?”
“Yup. T.J. can’t leave Shannon and the baby alone too long. We’re leaving in a few days for training. This is eating up our together time, before we—you know.”
“Yes.” Lindsay had said they never talked specifics over the phone. “So I guess he’ll not be going on your training, then.”
“Nope. He gets to sit this one out. Not that he’s happy about it.”
“I can only imagine. Well, thanks for letting me know. Give my best to him if you see him again before you leave, and thank him for the message.”
“Will do.”
She arranged to meet Lindsay at yoga, and they decided to go out for Chinese afterwards.
“How did you guys meet?” she asked her friend.
“My friend had this crush on another Team Guy so we showed up at the Scupper, hoping to find him.”
“Did you?”
“Oh yes. That was some night. Brady looked at me across the room, and I just knew. I mean, I just felt like I knew him. And then he was all shy, didn’t come up to me, but I caught him looking.” She smiled and sipped her tea, closing her eyes and savoring it.
“What did you do?”
“I sort of ran into him on purpose. He touched me and that was it. I laid a kiss on him before he could get away. I’m still kissing him.”
“That’s a nice story.”
“You’ll have one too, some day.”
“Do you ever worry about what would happen if he ever got off the teams?”
“You mean like retirement?”
“Um hum.”
“We’d have to move completely away. I think hanging around, being with the guys who were going back and forth overseas would be difficult. He’d want to get in the middle of the mix. If he can’t, then I think he should stay away completely. Some guys do that.”
“Lots of divorces on the Teams.”
“Unfortunately, yes. Lots of stress. I’ve learned to handle more than I ever thought I would. Hard part will be when we have kids.”
“When he’s gone for such a long time.”
“Always hard on the wife and kids. Don’t have to be a SEAL. Most of our military wives have a tough life. Moving all the time, raising a family without Dad around, learning to make decisions on their own, and then giving up all that control when he comes home. When they go overseas, everyone is deployed.”
“At least you guys have the community,” Megan said.
“We do. We’re always there to help out.”
They finished their tea. Lindsay grabbed Megan’s arm. “Why don’t you come with me? I have to stop by my friend’s house and give them a belated baby gift. Her older sister is visiting from up North to help out. I’d like you to meet them all.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got things to do, Lindsay.”
“Oh come on, it will be fun. Give you a chance to meet other SEAL wives. You’ll like them.”
Megan reluctantly agreed.
Kate and Tyler lived in a modest neighborhood close to several other team families. While they couldn’t afford anything with a view of the water, it was within walking distance of good beach access.
“So this is my friend, Megan. And Megan this is Kate’s sister, Gretchen.”
Within seconds they were introduced to Gretchen’s three girls, bunched around Kate, vying for the opportunity to hold Kate’s baby. They tossed Megan a wave but were more interested in the baby.
Kate sat them down and the youngest one, Angie, spoke up immediately. “I never get to hold the baby, Auntie Kate.” After she was rewarded with the little package, she sat dangling her feet, sporting a huge smile on her face while she gently rocked the child and began to sing a nursery rhyme.
Megan whispered to Lindsay, “They’re precious. Is Kate’s sister married to a Team Guy too?”
“Hardly. Professional basketball player, professional skirt-chaser, if you ask me.”
When Kate had heard them, she gave Lindsay a wide-eyed stare.
“They’re divorced, but that’s a good thing. I’ll tell you about it later,” Lindsay said even softer.
Gretchen seemed not to notice and was leaning over her daughter’s shoulder picking up the nursery rhyme and singing along with little Angie.
Megan was struck by the family scene, how the women carried on while the men did their thing. She could see herself in this little community.
She hoped it was in her future.
Chapter 19
‡
Moustafa could not believe the luck he’d had following the little bookstore clerk around. Although he’d not seen the Warrior Infidel in several
days, he suspected he wasn’t far away. He’d taken pictures of the woman sleeping, and he pinned them up in his apartment on the wall next to his bed. In one photograph, her nightgown had ridden up over her smooth white rump, and he found himself fingering that picture more than the others. She was going to be a pleasure to defile.
Now he had three more houses with women in them, all friends. And there were children, too. He would make the proper notations in his computer for the dates they got together, like at the Indian exercise studio, the coffee shops they frequented, and the parties they attended as a group.
Westerners were so lax with their women. Anyone could break in and take them, have their way with them, hurt them and the children. They allowed their women to walk around in skimpy clothing, practically naked. The men were off doing things without leaving a guard behind. It showed a lack of respect for their safety, something the Muslim man wasn’t guilty of. He had never left Sharma alone. Even in the company of her mother and sisters, there was always an armed guard left with them. Toward the end, she would accompany him on the meetings, since their son had taken the martyrdom. If she were with him she would not cry. She would become hardened in that way, like a man. Like he was.
There was no safe place but beside him or one of his warrior brothers. He knew if something happened to him, one of them would take Sharma as a second or third wife, and she would be cared for. She demonstrated her usefulness by learning how to clean his equipment, cook him light meals, foraging and stealing food where she could. She was resourceful and a true partner. Their sex was urgent and not as private as he’d liked, but he figured it was for her own welfare the other men knew what pleasure he took in her bed. She would be coveted and well cared for.
Her fear made her a stronger partner, clinging to him, seeking him to transport them both to a land of fields of lilies and warm beaches. The death and destruction around him made those visions even sweeter, just as their lovemaking was.
SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) Page 9
