by Margaret Kay
He was quite enamored with Michaela Karras. She was an exotic beauty. Her mother was black Irish, her father was Greek. She had the most attractive features from each of them, long, smooth, dark hair, light mocha skin that was flawless and radiant over her perfect facial bone structure. He did know that the picture was taken during their last vacation as a family. They had talked several times about her family being torn apart shortly after.
Michaela chuckled. “You describe me like a suspect that you’re surveilling.”
Lambchop laughed as well. “Sorry, occupational hazard.”
“How did that last mission go?” She asked as she took her seat at the table.
“It was routine,” he replied as he served her salad.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged.
After he served himself a generous helping, he took her hand and bowed his head and said a blessing out loud. He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “The side trip back up to Alaska was not so routine, but the DEA Partner Mission was. These people that are selling such addictive and deadly drugs just have no regard for life. It never ceases to amaze me the greed that people have, willing to line their pockets from the sale of that shit that causes so much misery.”
Michaela wasn’t sure if he’d tell her on his own about the Alaska side trip or not. Sometimes, when something bothered him, he just wanted company, but not to talk about it. That was the case when he returned after the mission to Algeria before Christmas. She knew him well enough to know that he was deeply upset. But he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He just wanted to be with her, talking about anything else. They watched a sappy Hallmark Christmas movie and talked about their favorite Christmas memories from when they were children.
It was the next day that Michaela learned what had taken place from Madison when she shared the news that they had found Hahna among the victims and they had brought her home with them. That was when Michaela learned about the human trafficking victims. Landon hadn’t spoken about it until Christmas Eve when the two talked while they ate lunch at the office. That was when he confided in her how much it upset him.
That was the thing that surprised her the most when she got to know several of the guys, how much what they saw or did on missions affected them. Before she’d become friends with Angel, she had purposefully kept her distance from all the men. Shepherd had a nonfraternization clause in the employment contracts. Not that she needed Shepherd to tell her not to get involved with a man from the office. She had a strict policy to keep work and her personal life separate.
But Angel was with Jackson and the other men were always around when she spent time with Angel, so she started to get to know them too. Landon and Anthony were the two Operators that she would say she was the closest to. She adored Anthony’s wife, Sienna. She was a sweetheart and was perfect for Anthony. She was ecstatic for them that their baby would be born soon.
“I heard that you guys got there in time to rescue Annaka, and that it was only one man that grabbed her at the hotel.”
Lambchop breathed out hard. “Yeah. Thank God for your trackers.”
Michaela had invented a tracker that was injected into the shoulder of every Shepherd Security employee and each of their wives or girlfriends. Her tracker moving away from her cell phone was how they knew Annaka was in trouble. It had led the team to not only her, but countless others over the years who had been taken by someone with hostile intentions.
Michaela waited to see if he’d continue. “How is she doing?” She asked when he didn’t elaborate.
“Mother is worried about her. I think her having the time to relax at the hotel while we finished the mission was good for her. And she’s talking to Joe too. I think she’ll be fine.”
“So, what’s the issue then?” Michaela prompted.
Lambchop gazed at her with appreciation. She knew him well. That was one of the reasons he liked to spend time with her. And she also would accept when he did not want to talk about something, and she would not push. He took another bite of his salad. “I’m not sure I can articulate it well,” he said after he had chewed and swallowed.
Michaela laughed. “I highly doubt that. You are one of the clearest speaking people I know.”
“I’m not sure I can put my thoughts into words well,” he clarified. “But I’ll try. And this by no means implies that I do not support my teammates having relationships. But the fact they do causes a lot of distractions from the job. It used to be easy. We were assigned to missions. We focused on them. We completed them without any other factors to take into consideration. But there is so much more involved now, and I do not feel we have the proper balance allotted.”
“What do you mean by balance?”
“More time to be with our families, I guess. I don’t regret going up to Alaska with Mother and the team in December for one second, but I only had a few days in Pittsburgh with my family because of it. My parents are aging. EJ and Shereese’s girls are getting so old too. EJ will be a senior in high school next year. I can’t believe it. He reminds me so much of my brother. I want to spend more time with him.”
“Landon, you’ve supported that boy and been a part of his life as much as you’ve been able to, given your job.”
“I know. I reach out to him through a text or a phone call several days a week as I am able. This last year has been challenging for him to stay on the straight and narrow.” He paused and shook his head. “Even at the private school he attends there are evil forces, drugs, gambling. Richer kids only mean more expensive trouble. He’s a good kid, but I know even good kids can be easily swayed.”
“You’ve given him a clear path and more support than anyone could hope to have. Now it’s up to him.”
Lambchop knew that Michaela was right. It was up to EJ at this point. He was nearly a man. The night before Johnson was due to report to MEPS to go to bootcamp came into his thoughts.
Lambchop was just a year older than EJ is now, still a boy. His momma cooked up a feast and invited friends and family over. It felt surreal to Johnson and the enormity of the changes to his life that were about to take place, hadn’t fully set in. Just before they were going to eat, Shereese arrived. He knew right away something was wrong. He stepped outside to talk with her at her prompting.
“I’m pregnant, Landon, and my momma just threw me out of the house because I don’t want to get an abortion. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Tears leaked out of her eyes.
“Pregnant, wow,” he echoed.
“It’s either yours or Elias’. You are the only two guys I’ve been with.”
Or she remembered being with, Johnson thought. He knew her statement wasn’t quite accurate. He wouldn’t point that out to her, though.
“I’m sorry to do this today. I know you leave for the Navy tomorrow.”
Johnson embraced her. “We’re just about to eat. Come inside with me and after everyone leaves, we’ll talk to my momma. Maybe you can stay at my house. If it is mine or Elias’, I’ll be here for you, Shereese. Even if it’s not, you’re my friend and I will help you anyway I can.”
After everyone else had left and his grandma had gone to bed, Johnson held Shereese’s hand as he told his parents. Shereese stood beside him, her eyes cast on the floor. She didn’t say a word.
“Oh, sweetie,” his momma said. She wrapped Shereese in a hug.
“Shereese needs someplace to stay. Me and Elias’ room will be empty. Can she stay here, Momma?”
“Of course, you can, Shereese,” Momma said. “after all, this baby is my grandchild.”
Johnson knew that his momma would never judge Shereese because she did not know which of her sons the baby belonged to. He also knew that his momma was against abortion, so the fact that Shereese was choosing to have and keep this baby scored points with her. The fact that she could be pregnant with his kid didn’t really sink in.
He was secretly both relieved and disappointed when a paternity test confirmed that it was Elias’ child, not his.<
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***
Lambchop felt Michaela’s head drop against his shoulder. Glancing over, he saw that she was asleep. He knew he should probably wake her so she could lock him out and go to bed. He didn’t care about the movie. But he liked the closeness with her. What he’d really like to do is put her to bed without waking her and then quietly leave. No, he knew he was not being honest with himself. No matter how many times he told himself he was content with them just being friends, he knew he wasn’t. He would love to put her to bed and join her there.
He put those thoughts out of his head and thought ahead to the mission his team would be going on the following morning as a distraction. He knew they’d get material they would need to study before arriving. There was always so much to study and learn. Shepherd demanded continuous learning and a knowledge of a wide variety of subjects amongst the team. Not only were they expected to stay on top of the newest military equipment and tactics, but they were also expected to know about current events, and the ever-changing political hotspots or areas of unrest around the globe.
He glanced back at the television and then at his watch. He reminded himself he should get going. He spoke softly. “Michaela. I need to go.” He watched her eyes flutter open. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
She pulled herself from his shoulder and sat up. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. What time is it?” She was groggy.
“Time for me to go home and time for you to go to bed,” he said with a laugh.
She followed him to the door. He pulled his coat off the hook. “Thank you for dinner.” His eyes glanced over her beautiful face.
“Thank you for bringing the wine,” she said with a smile. “Your team heads out early, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. We’re wheels up at zero six hundred.”
“Be safe,” she said as she raised on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Then she embraced him.
“You better believe it,” he murmured, returning her embrace. As always, when they shared any physical contact, feelings stirred within him. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and pulled back, putting some space between them. Michaela had no idea of the effect she had on him. “Good night.”
Foxtrot
Lambchop settled back into his seat as the Lear lifted off. He opened his computer tablet to read through the material on the people at Carstairs Gas and Oil that their investigation would focus on. He also read the latest intel on the allegations Charles Devlin made.
He and Cooper would join Garcia and Madison, who were already onsite as federal auditors investigating the explosion of platform C-Three in the Cook Inlet. Garcia was searching their network for any trace of the emails that had been wiped from the server. Mother, Jackson, Sloan, and Sherman would run down any leads in the field, set up surveillance on any persons of interest, basically do the dirty work, with Mother taking the lead role.
He would never question a team assignment given by Shepherd, but he had to wonder why he was being positioned at Carstairs and not in the field with his team. He would have thought that Jackson would have been the more logical choice to be at the corporate headquarters given that he had more office and computer experience, and since he’d been working more in Ops since Alpha Team had cut down field time.
He was surprised by the limited focus of the investigation. It centered on platform manager Wally Dalton, Carstairs Network Manager, Ruth Arnold, and Devlin’s immediate superior, Dennis Napolitano. There was special mention of Napolitano’s administrative assistant, Denise Paulo by Devlin, but no direct allegations against her. He knew that the scope of the investigation would change with whatever they found, but to have two full teams deployed to investigate four people plus delve into the network seemed excessive.
Garcia would focus on the network and the network manager. That was Garcia’s specialty, though it was usually hacking past organization’s firewalls from the comfort of his office on the eighth floor at HQ. Anthony ‘Razor’ Garcia was a chameleon. Lambchop held a great deal of respect for the man. He could pull on a pair of worn blue jeans, a leather vest, and blend in at the worse biker bar there was. Or he could dress in a button-down shirt and dress pants and fit in at any corporate office. Even his demeanor adapted to his surroundings. Lambchop knew he did not have that much range.
He read Ruth Arnold’s biography, which revealed a homely woman in her fifties with a master’s degree in computer science from Texas A&M University. Her salary was higher than Charles Devlin’s. If she was in on it, money probably wasn’t a motive. But she did run the network, so she was either complicit or derelict in her duties not to know that her network had been altered.
He clicked on the personnel file of Dennis Napolitano. He was an older, slicker looking version of Charles Devlin. Except for Ruth Arnold, every other manager at Carstairs was male. Looked like the old ‘Boys Club’ was running Carstairs. Napolitano’s corporate pedigree was just what would be expected for a man in his position. He was twice divorced and lived alone in a large mansion in one of the more expensive neighborhoods in Midland.
Denise Paulo was a local woman, also twice divorced, with credentials that made Lambchop wonder why she was working as an administrative assistant and not a mid or upper-level manager. She was Hispanic, was in her late thirties, and her salary was pathetically low. Yes, it literally said pathetically low. The commentary on the bios reminded him that Brielle was helping with them now. His lips cracked a smile, considering that.
“What are you laughing about?” Cooper asked him. Cooper sat beside him. He too had his tablet open, studying their targets.
“I see Brielle’s touch on the bios. I’m glad Shepherd found more for her to do at the office. She’s good at research and is a valuable addition to the digital team.”
“Shepherd is good at spotting talent,” Cooper agreed. “And at making assignments that deepen a person’s aptitude inventory. Case in point, you. You’re great in the field and a top-notch team lead, but he recognizes that you have had limited exposure to leading an in-office investigation as a federal agent.”
“Is that why he assigned me to the office and not in the field with my team?”
“Yes,” Cooper confirmed. “Honing those skills to a greater depth isn’t a bad thing. He also wants you to work with Garcia to get a better grasp of computer networks.”
Lambchop laughed at that. “Yeah, what Garcia, Smith, and the rest of the digital team do is Greek to me. I’m not sure that is something my brain will comprehend.”
Cooper chuckled with him. “Don’t count it out. I’ve learned so much more than I ever thought I would.”
Lambchop went back to his reading material. He thought about what Cooper said. He had never led an in-office investigation posing as a federal investigator, but he knew that Alpha Team had conducted many such missions. White collar crime was real and just as important as the types of missions Delta Team normally went on. Cooper was right. He had to increase his skills to be the most useful to the agency as he could be. This would add to the diversity of the types of missions his team would be assigned to.
When the Lear landed, Lambchop had memorized every detail in the bios. Four vehicles waited for them. The four men assigned to the field team would have three of them. A vacant office front at the end of a strip mall had been transformed into their onsite headquarters. They drove there. The hotel they would stay at was around the corner. The initial plan was to be onsite for a week.
Garcia waited for them at the onsite headquarters. The six men entered, chuckling at the sign. “Really, Midland Proctology?” Lambchop asked after he’d greeted Garcia with a hand clasp and shoulder bump.
“It’s what it was before it became a vacant office. The local FBI left the original signage,” Garcia answered. “It’s appropriate though. This case is a pain in the ass.”
Lambchop chuckled at that. He glanced around as Garcia led them through the door that separated the front reception desk and waiting room from the back. They had a bank
of computers set up in the largest of the offices within the suite.
“Bathroom is back there,” Garcia said, pointing. “And we have a kitchen stocked with coffee and other essentials.” He added pointing to another room. “Here is what we’ve found so far. Charles Devlin wasn’t blowing smoke about the server being wiped to conceal status update emails that would have been sent by the second platform manager. I found evidence of it when examining their server. Wally Dalton was supplied with a Carstairs attorney. He has sat down twice to give statements, but he’s pled the fifth to all questions regarding status updates on the leak and any emails or notations in the rig log. The attorneys have made it clear each time that he needs to be either charged or released.”
“And there isn’t enough to charge him, yet?” Cooper asked.
“The FBI says no,” Garcia replied.
