by Tony Lavely
Beth’s head snapped around. “No, I’ll be better off by myself.”
“Hmm. Sam, you’re headed back to Syria, and Barbara, to Riyadh?” When they both nodded, she continued, “Good. Beth, you’ve got… four days, til Wednesday. Barbara, you and Sam stick close in case Beth is surprised about needing backup. I’ll talk to Maurice about getting you all flights out on Thursday morning.”
“If I need more time…”
“Convince Barbara and Sam it’ll do good, then. Do you need one of the Defenders? And I can ask Carys if you can stay—”
“No, I’ll be better off in a hotel. Sam and Barbara, though, this would be close enough for them. If Sam can run me up to Howick, I’ll pick up a rental there. You’ll need all the Defenders, I think.”
“Not to Howick,” Sam said. “No rentals there. Pietermaritzburg is the closest. I can run you over there.”
“Right,” Beckie said. “Go. Keep in touch, girl.”
Two days later, after the service, Beth had reported no progress.
Beckie was certain that the world had barely noticed what was so important to her: that she’d fucked up and Ian was gone, dead, as a result. She had the memory of his smile, his cropped blond hair, his pleasure in her, and hers in him, but she didn’t have him.
Amy was still watching when she wasn’t reporting to Dylan, so Beckie was being careful to keep her emotions in check except when she went to the bathroom, since Amy was still bunking with her—though she now claimed it was just “‘cause Mom snores so bad.” Beckie was pretty sure that Millie wasn’t as bad as Amy made out, but she decided having someone there when she woke trembling wasn’t such a bad thing; she didn’t raise more than a token argument.
Her parents had wanted to be there, but the timing was just not going to work; she suggested they travel to the Nest for the memorial there. Lissa and Mike had already signed up for that trip. Outside the team, most of the people at the services were friends of Kevin and Ian’s parents. Not surprising, I guess. The friends we make are probably ‘fair-weather’ friends at best.
In the empty moments, she took time with the team members that had joined them, time to tell them she was continuing Ian’s plan, describing her own self-claimed stupidity in getting him killed, and asking if, in spite of that, they would plan to stay. She was a little surprised that Emily raised the most poignant concern, though when she considered it, it was similar to Willie’s. Emily, with two youngsters, wanted assurance that Beckie would never leave, Derek in particular, but anyone is what she said, in the lurch the way she had Ian.
“You know, Emily, I can’t promise that. None of us can. What I can promise is to not screw up plans by willfully not listening or dismissing the agreed plan. But if you need a real money-back, nope, I can’t give that.”
Emily nodded and Derek gave her one of the inscrutable looks he must have learned from Barbara. Beckie waited a second. “Will that be enough? Can you get a better promise somewhere else?”
“Nah,” he said. “Em’s just… worried—”
“Too right I’m worried! We all thought Ian and Kevin were indestructible, and ‘ere they’re both gone in the space of two days. To stupid low-lifes smuggling drugs! Not the way I want to see you go, luv.” She turned to Beckie. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and I’m sure you thought it was the right thing to do at the time, but… I don’t know. I want to be certain our kids will have their Da, unlike Shalin’s kids.” Or Ian’s, Beckie thought. “But yes, I know I can’t have that certainty. If Derek trusts you, that’s good enough for me.”
Before she rode with Sam to the plane waiting at King Shakta, they stopped at the police station; the officer handling the investigation again offered condolences, then handed her the Sig P238 they’d recovered from the smugglers. The phone and the tracker hadn’t been salvageable.
After another short drive, she wandered through the cemetery to stand in front of the neat, anonymous marker standing in for the granite tombstone being carved nearby. “I am so fucking sorry, Ian, to cut your life short, to prevent you from knowing your child, your son or daughter. To miss growing old with them and your own parents. I hope you can forgive me.” When her tears slowed so she could see the path, she returned.
She buckled herself into the back seat and plugged in her ear buds. With a nod to Sam, driving, she grabbed her iPod and scrolled to the Preservation Hall Jazz Band playlist. The first selection was “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” When “Amen” followed it, she closed her eyes to keep them from leaking and filling the car.
Part Three
Life, It Continues
FOUR HOURS BEFORE THEY LANDED at the Nest, about four in the morning, Beckie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked at the display. She scrunched her eyes closed, then squinted again. Sam’s smiling face stared at her.
Quickly she answered, then said, “Wait a second,” while she shook Willie. She held the phone up and mouthed, Sam, then grinned an apologetic smile as she pointed to the hospital aft. Amy trailed them down the aisle. Yeah, I should have expected that.
In the hospital space, she arranged them so Willie was beside her and Amy across the space. “I don’t think we’ll have any video,” she said to the girl.
“Okay, Sam. Willie and Amy are here, so what’s going on?”
“We’re all about to hop our respective planes, and Beth and Barbara convinced me we should wake you up instead of making you wait. Especially with Beth’s news.”
“I’ll give you more detail,” Beth said, “when I’m back at the Nest, but this morning, one of my contacts told me they didn’t expect anything to come from the investigation—”
“Why’s that?”
“Monday, after… after Ian’s… ashes were released… The doctor at the surgery where you saw Ian’s body… He was killed. Auto accident, they said, but my contact said it’s suspicious.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Hold on! I’ll tell you. First complicating factor is that the surgery… It had been closed and hadn’t reopened. The doctor was apparently, moonlighting? Not completely authorized, anyway. But before you get all excited… he was a doctor, that was no pretense.
“The second complication… The police officer on the helicopter… He’s dead, too. Contact couldn’t say more than that, though, while that investigation’s proceeding.”
“So… Suspicious?”
“Yeah, that’s a safe bet.”
Beckie leaned back against the bulkhead and tried to make some sense out of Beth’s news. After a minute, she gave up. “Okay. nothing else as stunning as that, I guess?”
“No. The rest is routine; we can go over it later.”
“Hmm. Thoughts? Anyone?”
“Sam and Barbara can probably come up with as many outlandish ideas as me,” Willie said. “But I can’t see any way to connect Ian and Kevin’s deaths with those people’s. Just… just makes no sense.”
“It’s a classic cover-up,” Barbara said, “ but we don’t know what’s being covered up.”
“Wait a minute!” Amy said. As Beckie popped her head up to stare, Amy continued. “It’s gotta be the people who wanted Kevin and Ian dead. Those guys… One, the cop, to make sure the body went to the right place, and the other, the doctor, to make sure no one interfered with pronouncing Ian dead.”
“Good work, Amy,” Willie said. “But I don’t think it gives us much of a leg up.”
“Yeah.” Beckie silently invoked a few curses. “Yeah, and while it’s an interesting question… I agree with Beth’s contact. It’s successfully eliminated our ability to track them back. Beth, I assume someone in the police service is still assigned to the cases?”
“Yes. My contact is going to remind them of the connections between the cases. And he’ll keep me informed to the extent he’s able.”
“Cool. Thanks for this. Go and catch your planes; I’ll talk to you later.”
Beckie allowed Willie and Amy to talk back and for
th, but when they began repeating—pretty quickly, since there was no source of new data—she ran them back to their seats. “Get a little sleep; it’ll be a tough home-coming, I think.”
More people than Beckie expected greeted her and the others returning to the Nest from Durban Thursday morning. Then she realized: she and Boynton, Willie and others had spent hours on their sat phones arranging the memorial service for the next day. As she surveyed the space between the plane and the hangar, filled with people she didn’t usually see, she said a silent thank you to Jannike Meyer for arranging the flights for… It looked like hundreds of Ian and Kevin’s friends, associates and family members like her own parents.
Beckie was afraid of attending the actual service, not sure exactly how she’d react. Boynton had suggested they congregate on Bon Secours Cay north of the hospital and admin buildings; near the flowered garden fronting the homes there. There was no better spot, she agreed, although the landing strip would offer more area.
Even with the evidence of yesterday, greeting and thanking everyone who’d made the effort to be there with her and Shalin, the crowd was larger than Beckie expected; however, it didn’t overflow the area Boynton suggested. He took both Beckie and Shalin’s hands and escorted them to the front.
Ten people made Beckie wish she could hug them forever, as they each faced the group and remembered Ian. And Kevin, too, with the kind of anecdotes reserved for—or only recalled at—occasions like this. When her turn came to speak, she took Shalin’s hand and together, they stepped before the others, turned and stood for a long moment, silent. Beckie gazed out over the gathered friends then, after a glance at Shalin, she said, “The only words I have now…” She caught the sobs before they became a full-fledged breakdown. “Thanks to all of you for remembering Ian and Kevin, for coming here to reminisce with us and help celebrate their lives. Thank you. I love you like I love Ian.” Before her tears came full-force, she grabbed Shalin into a hug, burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. In a minute, she leaned back. “Thanks, Shalin.” She let go the embrace and allowed her her words.
After a beautiful duet to open the service, Else and Jannike sang a traditional benediction to close it; Beckie made herself stand beside Shalin, Boynton, Sam and Willie in a kind of receiving line, allowing the, guests? I guess they are, to once again offer their condolences and their own memories before moving to the hospital courtyard for drinks and snacks and even more memories.
Beth ended the line; she took Beckie’s hand and pulled her back into the building. Willie noticed the motion and followed.
The woman spent several minutes giving Beckie and Willie a comprehensive report on her three days, but nothing she’d found eclipsed the information about the deaths of the doctor and the policeman. “One last thing before you go and mingle. My contact—friend— Tjaart Mulder… He might be looking for a new post when his contract’s up, middle of next year. I told him how to apply, and he volunteered to keep me up to date on anything that comes of the investigation.”
“You made no promises?”
“Willie, I know better than that! I even made sure to tell him I’d not be one of the ones vetting him. But having feet on the ground when I don’t know who we’d put there seemed like a smart move, and he’s well trained.”
Beckie pulled Beth into a hug that hid her emotions—mostly—and thanked her. “Don’t forget to tell me when he shows up. I’ll be happy to remember my name by then!
“Now, meet and greet.”
But after she pushed the two through to the courtyard, Beckie turned tail and made for her home.
By the middle of September, Beckie had most glitches smoothed out. While she still had fits of anger and depression over Ian’s death, by then they were brief and uninteresting, even to her. Until school started, Amy stayed with Beckie and Boynton except when Dylan came to visit. When it did start, Millie, Beckie and Boynton escorted Amy to New York, to Columbia University where they met Dylan and his father. Beckie was sure it had been good karma the year before that allowed them both to be assigned to the all-class living center.
This year, Amy was a sophomore and Dylan a junior; they were again roommates. While there had been raised eyebrows last year when their arrangement became apparent, both their grades and behavior had been exemplary; “Can’t argue with success,” Beckie had said to Millie and Dylan’s mother when the topic came up for discussion. She made certain both Amy and Dylan understood the underpinnings of their success.
Once Amy was safely ensconced, Boynton had taken two weeks holiday to visit his family; while he traveled, Beckie had hustled to Miami, to see her doctor. The visit provided confirmation of the baby but no other news.
On his return, Boynton admitted that his visit home had not been uniformly beneficial. When he requested permission to stay with her in the role he had held for Ian, she couldn’t speak for a full minute.
Then, “You what!” burst out. “I should be asking you if I can stay here; it’s as much yours as mine! More! I’m honored that you’re willing to stay, even after…”
“Thank you, Mistress Rebecca. Now, as Miss Amy says, we’ll have no more of that. Speaking of her…”
Amy had bounded in, taking the weekend off to visit her mom before the doctor headed for her stint with Sam and his crew on the ground in Syria. She agreed with Beckie that they would hear no more of Boynton’s feeling that he was imposing; even so, his fits of guilt and depression were longer and deeper than Beckie’s, and Beckie was happy, ecstatic, to have Amy’s help, even briefly, in clearing his mind.
Visit Lovely Syria
Before her “delicate condition” became obvious to everyone, Beckie decided to hitch a ride on Sam’s supply plane. He and his squad were still contracted to protect a vulnerable section of natural gas pipeline. Ian had been to the front a year ago; now Beckie decided she needed to “show the flag.” She knew some would consider it stupid but she remained convinced of the necessity to support her team. And doing it before I look prego will work better. No one’ll remember I did it later. Well, Sam will, but I can deal with that.
So, on Sunday morning after putting Amy on the air taxi back to Fort Lauderdale, she called Jannike, who handed the phone to Patrice. “Patrice,” Beckie said, “you taking Sam’s supplies this time?”
“I am, unless you have an alternative mission?”
“No, but I want to catch a ride. Will you let me know the schedule?”
“Easy. Tomorrow. Follow Doctor Ardan until she boards.”
“Of course.” Millie, Shakti Krishna and Sue Jinet traded off stints in the field, covering any injuries and wounds to the team. And various and sundry other warfighters and civilians; Millie took no names when she was healing. If you were hurt, she fixed you. Her philosophy had flowed to Sue and Shakti with no questions asked. Ian, and now Beckie, applauded it and them, and made sure the money to support them was available.
The next step: clear the decks with Shalin, making sure she was okay and would be able to keep an eye peeled for Amy. She had to sit with Willie, too, to let him know where she’d be.
“Shalin, I need some of your time over the next couple weeks. Think you’ll be available?”
“It’s likely, but what exactly is on your mind?”
“Let me grab Willie and we’ll come by and talk, if this is a good time.”
“Make it fifteen minutes; the twins are almost done lunch.”
Beckie and Willie stepped onto the porch and waited. In a moment, the twin Kamala opened the door. “Mom says you shouldn’t just stand out there; she might think you’re stalking her.” A beat while the girl stared up at them. “What’s stalking?”
Beckie looked at Willie; they grinned at each other, then at the girl. “Stalking is like standing on the porch waiting to be let in,” Beckie said. “Can we come in?”
With a look Beckie was sure she’d never used on an adult, Kamala stood aside to allow them to pass. As they did, Kamala called, “Mom! They’re coming in
, okay?”
“Yes, Kam. That’s why you opened the door.”
In the kitchen, Shalin waved them to chairs; Beckie took one of the tall stools at the island, the way Ian had always done. “Coffee, tea, anything?” Shalin offered. “I’ll be done with Kieran’s injury in just a second.”
“What? What did you do, Kieran?” Willie leaned over to flood the boy with solicitous words. Beckie watched, smiling.
“He scraped his thumb on the knife spreading the peanut butter.”
“Well, it’ll taste good at least,” Willie said, patting the boy atop the head.
“No spoiling him, Willie.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause then you’d have to spoil me, too,” Kamala said, bouncing on her toes.
“You don’t need spoiled, do you?” Willie stood and picked the girl up.
“Oooh!” He tossed her carefully. “Don’t do that. I’m too old for that stuff now. I’m seven, you know.”
“Oh,” Willie said. “Of course. Please forgive me; I didn’t realize you had grown up so much.” He gave her a quick kiss on her head. “I hope that’s still all right?”
With a quick look at her mother, Kamala said, “I think that’s okay. Yes.”
“Okay,” Shalin said, “both of you; schoolwork. Now!”
When the dust had settled, Shalin brought her tea to the island. “What’s on your mind, Beckie?”
“Before we get to that,” Willie said, “Boynton told me that Ian had a meeting set up in January, in Paris. The principal, a guy named Jones, called this morning to make sure we were still on.”
Wonder what that’s about. “So… Maurice has the details?”
“I think so.”
“Then, sure. Paris in January… not much for sightseeing, I guess. Let Jones know we’ll be there. And you and I will talk to Maurice. Okay?” He nodded, a little quirk of a smile playing around his lips. “To business, then. I want to go over and see where Sam and his team are working. It’s been a year since Ian went, and it’s time. Also, I should see them where they work. What they have to deal with. So that’s me. Shalin, I’m hoping you can keep a weather eye on Amy, even though she’s back at school. Or on the way, at least.”
