The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  11:20 a.m.

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “The cream makes it a bit slippery.”

  “That's okay. It still feels wonder- – oh, yes, yes, yes, right there.”

  “Like that?”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Jake smiled and continued his ministrations.

  Gradually, he could feel Pam's shoulder muscles relaxing and her neck beginning to loosen up, as well.

  He put his hands under her ears, thumbs behind, palms in front, and very gently, very carefully, but firmly, twisted her head from side to side, back and forth, loosening the muscles in her neck, jiggling it very lightly on the top of her spine, finally letting it settle there, and then slowly removing his hands, sliding them down her neck, across her shoulders and back to rest on his noodles, a quiet smile on his face.

  Pam leaned back on her noodle and let her feet and body float up.

  “Mmmm. Wake me up when it starts to snow; I'll just float here till then.”

  “That's a deal. I'll just float here and keep an eye on you.”

  “The way you just made me feel, you can keep more than that on me.”

  This page left blank intentionally

  (except for this note, of course).

  Well, that remark left Jake speechless for a whole page and a lot of lines. When he finally recovered his voice, he managed to squeak, “Th-that's nice, Pam.”

  Jill looked at Carie and said, “Oh, c'mon, Jake; wake up. She's all yours, but you'd better start listening to her signals. Remember your NLP training; geez.” Carie smiled in response, then just nodded.

  Sharon threw her two cents in. “C'mon, Jake. We didn't go to all the trouble of putting the bug in for you to not pick up on an open invitation. Get with it, old man. Quit being oblivious!”

  Finally, Pam sighed and lowered her feet to the bottom and twirled to face Jake.

  “Thank you, Jake; that was really great. You have magic hands.”

  “Any time, Pam.”

  Pam leaned back on her noodle and wrapped her legs around Jake's waist, pulling him closer to her.

  Jake, once again perflutzed, felt his face flushing and was glad he was as tan as he was. But he couldn't find anything to say.

  “I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?” Pam said, smiling.

  “You always surprise me, but … but I can adjust.”

  Pam smiled even more and said, “I'm glad of that, Jake.”

  “Why, Mrs. Robertson-Brooks, are you trying to seduce me?”

  “What do you think, Mr. Devlin?”

  “Sure seems like that. But it's been a long time, so I'm not sure.”

  “Let me see if I can make it clearer for you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She pulled him even closer and murmured, “Oh, that feels good.”

  “For me, too,” Jake said, smiling.

  “How about this?” Pam slid her legs down and intertwined them with Jake's, pulling him even closer and tighter to her, at least from their waists down, well under the water's rippling surface.

  “Even better.”

  “I can tell. Mmmm.”

  “Wow, Pam. You are a total surprise.”

  “A pleasant one, I hope.”

  “Absolutely,” Jake replied, as they locked eyes for a very long moment. Finally, Pam broke the silence.

  “Let's go up to my condo … if you want to.”

  “I'd like that.”

  Pam untwined her legs from Jake's and smiled as she turned to the shore.

  Jake said, “Oh, wait a minute. I think I need to stay in the water a little longer.” He smiled sheepishly.

  Pam smiled knowingly. “Maybe if you thought about baseball or football?”

  “Not much of a sports fan.”

  “Oh; too bad.”

  “In fact, in my whole life, I've only watched maybe a total of five or six innings of football.”

  “I'm not much of a spor- – wait a minute. Innings?” She saw Jake smiling and laughed out loud. “I guess that does get the point across.”

  “Only if people listen well; a lot of 'em just think I'm stupid.”

  “Which is fine with you, I'd guess.”

  “Yup; I --”

  “Jake Devlin, I've got a bone to pick with you,” a high, squeaky female voice intruded. Pam and Jake both laughed, as did Jill, Carie and Sharon. Jake turned around and saw the elderly leader of the Hat Squad glaring at him and, to a lesser extent, at Pam. He squelched his laughter as best he could.

  “Yes, Alice? What is it?”

  “I read the stuff you have online, and you need to take out all those F-words. It's disgusting and disgraceful.”

  Jill, Carie and Sharon laughed out loud; Pam covered her mouth.

  Jake, biting his tongue, smiled at Alice and said, “Geez, Alice, I'm glad you read it, but those words help define Debbie's character.”

  “That may be, but those words are offensive, and I insist you take them all out.”

  “Alice, I would like to accommodate you, but they're important for the story. I'm sorry if you're offended by them, but they're staying in.”

  “And the N-word, too. You need to remove that.”

  “You know, Alice, on that one, I may do that; I've been debating that for a while.”

  “Well, do it, young man. Do it.”

  Jake held an index finger to the tip of his nose. “Tell you what, Alice, I'll change it so it reads 'N-word deleted' in parentheses.”

  “That's one,” said Alice, not satisfied. “But you need to get rid of all the F-words, too.”

  “Sorry, Alice; those will stay in.”

  “Well, then I certainly will not be buying a copy, and none of my friends will, either.”

  “That's your choice, of course, Alice, if you're offended by it. I'm sorry you --”

  “I'll write letters to the editor and put a warning in our community newsletter.”

  “Alice, you're free to do whatever you want to do. But I've got to run now; got an appointment.”

  “What kind of --”

  “Frankly, Alice, that's none of your business.”

  “Why, of all the – you are a very rude young man.”

  “Sorry you feel that way, Alice, but I've got to run. Have a nice day.”

  He turned away, looked at Pam and worked very hard to keep from bursting out in further laughter. Pam did the same thing, less successfully, and they headed for shore.

  Jake said, “Well, at least I don't have to stay in the water any longer.”

  Pam smiled and said, “Maybe we'll have to send her a thank-you note.”

  “We may just have to do that. Maybe give her a commission.”

  “But now, Jake, let's go keep that appointment.”

  “Yes, ma'am, let's.” They made it to shore, picked up their bags and headed off the beach to do just that.

  “Hey, Norm, Janet, can you watch our stuff for a while?”

  “Sure, Jake.”

  As they passed the Mimosa twins, Jake glanced at them and held two fingers to his eyes, then pointed them at his and Pam's stuff, questioningly. They nodded and he smiled and nodded back.

  “Those ditzy chicks'll keep an eye on our stuff, too.”

  “Well, if they're pros, they'll be good at it.”

  “Oh, c'mon, Pam, they're just kids.”

  Out in the water, Alice had just gotten back to her coven – sorry, her group, and was talking and gesticulating angrily, pointing and glaring at Jake and Pam's receding figures.

  -68-

  Friday, January 13, 2012

  9:00 a.m. EST

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  Donne warmly greeted Admiral Dean Thomasson, Chairman, and the other members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff as they filed with military precision into the Oval Office and stood at attention in front of his desk. The Secretary of Defense, Leander G. Bentley, the Third, shambled in behind them and headed for the couches in the center of the room, s
ettling his prodigious bulk into the nearest one.

  “Good morning, gentlemen, and a very happy Friday the 13th, or if any of you are superstitious, happy Ides minus two of January – oh, at ease – no, more than at ease. Relax and let's sit down over there.” He pointed to the couches, and they all filed over there, with Donne, Bentley and Thomasson sitting on one couch and the other three on the other.

  “First of all, gentlemen, I want to congratulate you all on how well and with great restraint your troops have been dealing with the Occupy movement and the other protest movements that have been organized and financed by the radical left. Damage and injuries have been minimal, from the reports I've seen, and I understand your people have helped ensure that they have cleaned up their trash and repaired the damage they've caused, all under your supervision.

  “And am I correct that your troops have had no problems with the Tea Party people, other than some of the radical far right-wingers and some left-wing plants?”

  SecDef Bentley responded, “Correct.” The others nodded.

  “Good, good. Just keep on with the same procedures.

  “Now, have you brought what I asked you for, Dean?”

  Admiral Thomasson opened his briefcase, pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and set them on the coffee table in front of Donne and Bentley.

  “There you are, sir --”

  “Gordy, please.”

  “-- Gordy. That's the budget analysis we've prepared for you, with the three different percent reductions you asked for, 10, 25 and 40.”

  “Good, good, Dean. We'll go through it in detail and work with you to implement what we can without damaging our defense capabilities and our readiness.”

  “Well, si- – Gordy, the 40 percent would do just that.”

  “Of course it would. But that exercise helps us all to see what your priorities are over there at the Pentagon.

  “The six of us will look that over in depth and come to some decisions together, and we'll bring some outside military advisers in to do their own analyses and give us their input.

  “But how do you feel about no longer having politicians decide what you need?”

  “That is the best thing you've done in this whole process, Gordy. I was getting sick of their meddling and ignorance. But mostly it made me sick to see them pushing pointless programs just for the sake of bringing the bacon back to their home districts or states. That was no way to run a professional military.”

  “How about that guy who thought Guam would tip over if the new Marines were added there?”

  “I had to bite my tongue so hard that it bled while I was trying to answer his question and not laugh … or shoot the SOB.”

  Everyone in the room laughed, remembering the scene.

  Donne said, “I was watching it on the tube, so I didn't have to hold my laughter back. But it wasn't humorous laughter; it was … I don't know the right word … not nervous … maybe contemptuous? Something like that.”

  “Sad laughter, Gordy?” Bentley suggested.

  “Not quite, Lee, but that's in there, if there's no hope. I think it's more fear and anger and frustration.”

  Bentley said, “In any event, I'm relieved that we're all free of the idiots using us all for their political agendas. Now maybe we can actually make things work.”

  “And, Dean, you know we're going to have to overhaul your procurement processes? Way too much fraud, waste and abuse.”

  “Absolutely, Gordy. We've got over a hundred ongoing DIA investigations right now.”

  “Good, good; keep me apprised on all of that as things develop.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you've followed my guidance that reductions in force should first come in the upper bureaucratic levels, not at the operational level, right?”

  Thomasson shifted in his seat, cleared his throat and said, “Well, Gordy, that's --”

  “Now, now, Dean, don't you dare lie or deflect on that one.”

  “It's tough, sir; there'll be a lot of resistance and backlash on --”

  “I know that, Dean. But if you don't get it done, I will, and I will be much tougher and carry a bigger axe than you will. But if we're really going to get down to a lean and mean military, the bloat has got to go. But without reducing our operational readiness. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don't try to snow me 'cause I'm new at this. Don't forget that DEI has been a big supplier to the Defense Department.”

  “And you've always come in under budget and ahead of schedule,” SecDef added.

  “Thanks, Lee, but I don't need the endorsement.

  “Dean, guys, I will look over these papers and do my own analysis, along with staff, and I hope, for your sakes, that you have been very honest and deeply critical and analytical in this stuff,” he said, patting the pile of papers. “I don't want to have you do it again in a cell downstairs.

  “Okay. Any more questions, comments?”

  Silence.

  “Okay, guys. Dismissed.”

  Everybody, including the SecDef, left the office, as Donne picked up the sheaf of papers and began skimming through it, frowning and making wholesale redactions and writing many cryptic and nearly indecipherable notes in the margins.

  Half an hour later, his intercom buzzed. “Yeah, Emily?”

  “One of the guards just brought me an 18-page motion from that union lawyer, Ms. Skinner, objecting to the food, the jumpsuits and the general conditions in the cells, with a 23-page supporting brief, all handwritten. Do you want to see it?”

  “No need. Just stamp it 'Denied,' sign it as Chief of Staff, make a copy and send it back down.”

  “Will do. Anything else you need, Gordy?”

  “I'm all set – oh, could you have someone bring in a couple more of those donuts and another can of soda?”

  “Oh, Gordy. How about --”

  “No, no, no, Emily. Might as well give up on that. But I appreciate your concern. The donuts and soda'll be just fine.”

  “Can't blame a girl for trying.”

  “I never will, Emily.”

  He heard the intercom click off and went back to his papers.

  -69-

  Five Months Earlier

  Sunday, August 14, 2011

  1:55 p.m.

  A seventh-floor condo

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Oh, god, Pam, again? You're insatiable.”

  Pam reared her head back, flinging her golden mane through the air, coming to rest against her glistening shoulders and back. She laughed, looking down into his eyes.

  “I'm insatiable? Oh, Jake, you should talk.”

  “What? Me? Three times in … what? … two hours? I'm surprised I haven't died already.”

  “Oh, Jake, you have, three times, but it was just la petite mort.”

  “Just what?”

  “The small death.”

  “None of them were very small, at least to me. I almost passed out that last time.”

  Pam laughed, “Me, too.”

  Jake said, “Can you imagine the headlines? 'Naked Couple Found Dead in Condo; Multiple Small Deaths Blamed.'”

  Pam reared her head back and laughed again, her eyes sparkling. “I wonder if Sgt. Dooley would be the one to investigate.” She giggled, and Jake chuckled.

  “He's Collier; we're in Lee. So no.”

  “Oh, tough luck for him. He so wanted to see me naked. Remember?”

  “Just that he was big and bald … and that you backed him down pretty quickly.”

  Pam laughed. “I did, didn't I?” She stopped laughing and sighed. “Dealt with a lot of locals over the years, even back --”

  She sighed again and rolled off of Jake and over onto her back, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling, her breathing shallow but regular. A long moment later, a frown wrinkled her brow, her eyes closed and a tiny tear oozed from her left eye, followed by another and then another.

  Jake gently touched them with a fingertip, and Pam jerked up,
her right hand curled into a fist, headed toward Jake's face. He grabbed it with his own hand, bent it down firmly but painlessly, and tenderly kissed it. Pam's eyes snapped open, flashed over to Jake's face and then focused.

  “Oh, Jake, I'm sorry.” She curled into his arms and shuddered, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and onto Jake's shoulder. They stayed that way, Pam cocooned, Jake enveloping and caressing her as she sobbed, for several minutes.

  When her sobbing had finally faded away to nothing, Jake quietly and ever so gently whispered in her ear, “By the way, I faked that last one.”

  -70-

  Monday, January 16, 2012

  Various times

  Various locations

  In London, a woman using the name Dawn met with a man representing a group of oil traders and speculators, and following the pattern in the three previously noted meetings, a contract was reached for another 20 million euros for the Refudiator to take out the same target.

  In Brooklyn, a woman using the name Amelia met with a man representing five families of organized crime figures, whose ranks of hit men had been decimated beyond repair, and following the pattern in the previously noted meetings, a contract was reached for another 20 million euros for the Deleter to take out the same target.

  Over the next several weeks, an additional 14 contracts with the same terms and the same target were reached between these parties:

  In Glasgow, a woman using the name Margaret, representing The Butcher, and a man representing a consortium of international drug companies (Big Pharma).

  In Brighton Beach, a woman using the name Nevaeh, representing The Asp, and a man representing a group of Russian mobsters.

  In Atlanta, a woman using the name Leandra, representing The Carnivore, and a man representing an anti-abortion group.

  In Edinburgh, a woman using the name Rita, representing The Ocelot, and a man representing a group of political consultants.

  In Detroit, a woman using the name Lexie, representing The Adder, and a man representing an American labor union.