A Soldier's Song

by Irene Onorato

  The large howler flashed his fangs, but otherwise stayed silent. He stood guard as a troupe of juveniles and mothers with babies on their backs jumped from tree to tree and climbed up into the canopy.

  Walters cursed as he rose from the squatting position Marcus had pushed him into. “Fools. It’s just a bunch of stupid monkeys.”

  “We’re not worried about the monkeys,” Marcus said, his voice low and diplomatic. “It’s what might have driven them to come this way that concerns us.”

  “Come on, let’s keep moving.” Dex walked onward.

  Edward came toward him from the forward position. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just monkeys. Alvarez just signaled that our rear looks good.”

  “Lieutenant.” Walters strode toward Edward, his chin lifted with a self-important air, and stood with defiant eyes glaring into the lieutenant’s. “We need to talk. Now.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “What’s the problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is. You and your Mickey Mouse operation, that’s what!”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  Dex backed away from the pair. Edward’s deadpan face didn’t fool him a bit. Ethan Walters had no idea who he was messing with.

  “We’ve been walking for hours, and I think we’re going around in circles. When we get back home, I’m putting in a complaint about you and this band of incompetent misfits. I’m an important man. I deserve better than this!”

  “If you don’t lower your voice,” Edward said, “you’re not getting home. Remember those guys who held you hostage? You know, the bad guys with the guns? I’m sure they’re still on our trail. I’m putting my men’s lives on the line to save your sorry hide. You might be an important man in Washington, but out here you’re nothing but a big mouth with a crummy suit and an ugly comb-over, and we can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Walters breathed a loud huff.

  “Shut your mouth and stop complaining. I don’t care how many bug bites you have, how hot you are, or how bad the food is. You shut up and you walk. You rest when I say you rest. You got that?” After a few seconds, Edward leaned in. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Walters snickered and stood ramrod straight. He palmed Edward’s chest with a push.

  Dex shook his head. “Uh-oh. Mistake.”

  Edward sidestepped, took Walters by the throat, then swept his feet out from under him, and brought him to the ground with a thud. “I’m in a really bad mood today, so when I say, ‘You got that?’ you say, ‘Yes, sir.’ Do we have an understanding, Walters?”

  Walters appeared shocked.

  Edward released the man’s throat, stood, and glared down at him. Walters made a move to rise, but Edward put a boot on his chest, leaned over, and cupped his ear. “What’s that you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now that we’ve got that straight, let’s get moving. We’re burning daylight.”

  * * * *

  “There it is, LT.” Dex handed the binoculars to Edward and pointed to a speck in the sky.

  Edward took a look through the glasses. “Yup, that’s it.”

  A small plane touched down on a tiny airstrip in the clearing. Edward turned to Walters as it taxied to the end of the grassy runway. “When I say go, move as fast as you can, and get your butt on that plane. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  The plane rolled to a stop, made a one-eighty-degree turn, and pointed the nose for takeoff.

  “Go.” Edward motioned with a karate chop to the air.

  Walters ran toward the plane sandwiched on either side by Dex and Edward. Zook ran behind and took up a defensive position as Walters climbed aboard.

  “You got any duct tape on this bird?” Edward asked a flack-jacketed member of the flight crew.

  “Yeah, you need some?”

  “No, but you will. Put some on that guy’s mouth. You’re gonna need it. We had him, you got him. Transfer complete.”

  Doors secured, the plane started rolling for takeoff.

  “Dex,” Edward said as they rejoined the unit in the jungle. “Get Greco on the Sat phone and tell him we’re a go for extraction. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Roger that.”

  Greco picked up right away.

  Dex gave the guys a thumbs-up. “Delta Golf,” he said, using the phonetic alphabet for Dave Greco’s initials. “This is Juliet Delta. Package has been delivered. We are heading to exfil Alpha now. ETA twenty minutes.”

  “Roger that, Juliet Delta. Proceed as—”

  A muzzle flash burst in the shadows of the thick fauna.

  Pain exploded in Dex’s head. He took a staggering step. Shots rang out all around.

  “Dex, Dex! Get down!” The voice came from the twilight zone—slow, stretchy, and strange.

  More gunfire. M-4s this time. His rifle. Where was his rifle?

  Something struck his chest. His knees buckled and hit the ground. He toppled forward.

  “Dex! Dex. Deeexxx…”

  * * * *

  “Hey, Mom, I’m leaving for music practice.” Aria called toward the laundry room then reached for the door to the garage.

  “Wait a minute.” A half-folded bath towel hung over Mom’s arm as she stepped into the kitchen. “Where are you meeting tonight?”

  “At the studio. See you later.”

  “Okay, have fun.”

  Aria got in the car, pressed the garage door remote, and started the engine. Fun? Now there was something she hadn’t had in a while. Not since she and Dex—since she and Dex, what? They didn’t exactly break up, but for sure, they weren’t together like before. Their relational limbo was killing her.

  She left the house and drove to the store.

  In the parking lot, Aria pulled into a space next to an older model hatchback. Piled high in its back seat and hatch, blankets, wads of clothing, and other things entirely obliterated any view through the rear windows. The driver’s door opened, and Professor Jacobs emerged.

  Aria got out of her car and went toward him. “Hello, Professor. Funny, but until now I never noticed what kind of vehicle you drive.”

  “I’ve been thinking of trading it in for a new car, but it’s such a reliable old beast I don’t know if I want to part with it.” He followed Aria’s gaze, glancing at the hatchback. “Ah, you’re wondering what’s with all the stuff, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes, I have to say I am curious.”

  “I was helping my sister move, and this is my nephew’s idea of packing a car.” He laughed. “Silly boy. Anyway, I lost track of time and had to hurry over here before I could deliver the stuff to her new apartment.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a busy day.”

  “Indeed. After my early classes, I went straight to my sister’s, and—” Jacobs clutched his forehead and took a staggering step, then steadied himself on the hood of Aria’s car. “Oh, I suddenly feel awfully dizzy.”

  “Are you all right? Would you like to sit?” Aria took his arm.

  Straightening, the professor inhaled deeply. “I’ll be okay. Low blood sugar. I just realized I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “We have a snack machine in the breakroom. Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you. I’m afraid a small snack won’t help. I believe I need a proper meal. I’m so sorry, Aria, but I need to go get something to eat before I faint.” Wobbling slightly, he pulled his car keys from his coat pocket.

  “I don’t think you’re in any shape to drive. Let me take you somewhere.” Aria rushed to open her passenger door.

  “Are you sure? This is rather embarrassing, and I hate to inconvenience you.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and you’re not inconveniencing me at all.” After all he’d done
for her, it was a pleasure to do something in return.

  Jacobs climbed in the car.

  Aria quickly got in and started it up. “My uncle told me about a new restaurant down the street that’s supposed to be very good. Do you like seafood?”

  Eyes closed, Jacobs sat with the seat reclined a notch or two. “Yes, that would be fine.”

  Aria drove a few blocks to the restaurant. Minutes later she was seated across a table from her mentor, a pale tablecloth with place settings for two between them.

  A waitress came with menus. “Good evening. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Water, please,” Aria said. A glance at the prices almost made her gasp. If Uncle Angelo had told her it was such an expensive place, she’d have taken the professor somewhere else.

  “White wine for me. Chardonnay. And bring us this shrimp appetizer right away, please.” Jacobs tapped the item on the menu. “This meal is on me, Aria. Order whatever you like.”

  “I’ve eaten, thank you.”

  Chardonnay seemed a poor choice for a man who wasn’t feeling well. But what did Aria know about low blood sugar? Nothing at all. Maybe wine was good for his condition.

  The waitress delivered drinks, and the appetizer came out shortly after.

  “Please, help yourself.” Jacobs motioned toward the plate, scooped some shrimp dip onto a triangle of pita bread, and shoved it in his mouth. “Excellent.”

  The appetizer smelled too good to resist. Aria sampled it. “Mmm, this is delicious, or salubrious, as my mother would say.” Though she had expected a much larger portion for the price.

  The professor ordered a second chardonnay and later wolfed down his surf and turf entrée, barely uttering a syllable between bites. Sitting back from his empty plate, he dabbed his mouth and sighed with satisfaction. “Ah, yes, I feel much better now.”

  “I’m glad. There’s our waitress. Would you like to order dessert?”

  “I believe I would.” With a wave of his hand he called the waitress over and put in an order for coconut cake. When it came, he devoured it in minutes.

  Aria finished the last sip of water. “If you’d like, we can skip practice tonight, or reschedule.”

  Jacobs pushed up his sleeve, exposing his wristwatch. “It’s only seven forty-five. We can still put in an hour’s practice.”

  “You’re sure? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  The waitress approached. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Jacobs shook his head. “Just the check, please.” Leaning slightly sideways, he reached around to his rear pants pocket, then leaned the opposite way and checked the other side.

  Panic filled the professor’s eyes. He grabbed his coat off an empty chair and searched through several pockets. “Oh, no. My wallet. I hope it fell out in my car and not somewhere else.” He double-checked his pants, shirt, and coat.

  Aria picked up the check the waitress had placed on the table. “I’ll take care of this, Professor. When we get back to the music store, we’ll search your car. More than likely it’s wedged somewhere in or around the driver’s seat.”

  “I hope so or I’ll be walking home. I should have gassed up the car on the way over here, but being crunched for time, I decided I’d stop on the way back instead.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find it.” She turned the check over. Holy smokes. Thirteen bucks a pop for each glass of wine? With a $78.10 tab, not counting the 20 percent minimum tip printed on the menu, it was a good thing she had a credit card in her wallet. She considered herself lucky for having twenty bucks in her purse.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back, Aria.” The professor rose and put on his coat.

  For a moment she considered gifting the price of the meal for all he’d done to help her, but no, a man as proud as the professor might be insulted by the gesture.

  * * * *

  Back in the studio, Aria played through several pieces.

  Standing at the window, his back to her, the professor’s mind seemed a million miles away. Small wonder since they hadn’t found his wallet in either his or her car. Calling his sister hadn’t helped. She wasn’t able to find it either. What a pain it would be replacing credit cards, driver’s license, and anything else he had in it. And it had to be humiliating for the professor to borrow twenty dollars for gas.

  Aria glanced at the wall clock and rose from the piano bench. “The store closes in fifteen minutes, Professor. Let’s call it a night.”

  “You played beautifully tonight,” Jacobs said, finally turning from the window. “Bianchi is going to be very pleased when he hears your audition. In fact, I think I’ll call him tomorrow and remind him that I’ve found his next solo pianist. I’ve been bragging about you for weeks.”

  “Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.” She closed the piano cover and gathered her music. “I’ll walk out with you.”

  “I’ll call you Tuesday to make arrangements for our next practice,” Jacobs said as he stepped outside and held the door for Aria.

  “All right.” Wind whipped Aria’s hair around her face.

  The professor stepped close, dragged a finger across her forehead, and brushed her curls away. His gaze took in her whole face in an instant. “You’re very beautiful. I just had to say that.” Abruptly, he turned, got in his car, and drove away.

  Aria stood frozen. No matter how complimentary, the professor’s comment was blatantly inappropriate. And touching her? Totally unacceptable. Her stomach quivered. She held out a hand. It trembled and bile rose to her throat.

  Chapter 29

  The sun streaming through the music shop window gave a spring-like feeling to the wintry day. A stroll around the block would be nice, but with a customer in the throes of deciding between two pianos, a walk was out of the question. Besides, Aria couldn’t just leave the shop on a whim during work hours.

  She stole a glance at the phone vibrating in her pocket. Libby. Third time she’d called in the last twenty minutes. Libs would have to wait until she had a few minutes to spare. Aria sent the call to voicemail along with the others.

  The elderly customer touched the upright with the darker finish. “I think I’ll take this one. It’ll match my living room furniture better than the other.” She smiled as if satisfied with her decision.

  “Wonderful. If you’ll come to the counter with me, we can complete the sale and arrange a delivery date.”

  Uncle Angelo walked up to Aria as she followed the older woman down the aisle. “Go to lunch after you finish with this customer.”

  “Okay, I will.” And once she’d gotten a little something in her belly, she’d return Libby’s call.

  * * * *

  Aria set her ham and cheese on rye on a paper napkin and picked up the chiming smartphone she’d set on the table.

  Call me ASAP 911

  Libby’s urgent text made it hard to swallow the bite Aria had taken. Quickly, she washed it down with a mouthful of bottled water and pressed Libby’s number.

  “Aria, you’ve got to come down here tonight.” Breathless, Libby hadn’t even said hello before blurting her demand. “Get off work early if you can.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?

  “Hold on and let me catch my breath. I just ran all the way up the stairs so I wouldn’t have to talk over the street noises.”

  “Libby, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “You know my mom works for Ticket Magician, right?”

  “No, actually I didn’t know. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Sorry about the 911 text, but you didn’t answer my calls, and I needed to talk to you right away. Are you alone?”

  “Yeah, I’m in the breakroom having lunch. Why?”

  “Trust me, it’s better that you’re alone when you hear what I’ve
got to say.”

  The suspense would kill her if Libby didn’t hurry up and spill her guts. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “I didn’t see it, but my mom said they interviewed Anton Bianchi outside the Ritz-Carlton on the news last night. He’s here, in New York! And guess what? Mom just gave me tickets for you and me to see him in concert tonight at Chimes Hall.”

  Aria jumped up and squealed, then covered her mouth. “What? You’re kidding. For real?” This was almost too good to be true.

  “What can I say? My mother’s a miracle worker when it comes to getting tickets. But there’s more. She also got backstage passes for after the show. We’re going to meet him, Ari. You and I are actually going to meet Anton Bianchi.” Libby gave a victory shout, and Aria could imagine her pumping a fist in the air or jumping up and down doing a happy dance.

  “Backstage passes? Oh, my gosh, I think I’m going to faint.”

  Uncle Angelo threw open the door, his face full of concern. “You all right?”

  “Yes. Sorry if I scared you with that little scream. It was good news, though, not bad.”

  “Women.” Rolling his eyes, he backed out of the room, pulling the door as he went.

  “Hold on, Libs.” Aria covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “Uncle Angelo, wait a sec.”

  “Yes?”

  “I feel as though I’m always asking for time off, but would you mind if I left a little early today, say three o’clock, so I can go into the city for a concert with Libby?”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got me twisted around your little pinky. Sure, I’ve got enough help from now until closing.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Angelo.”

  Smiling, he left and closed the door.

  “Libby, I’m getting off at three. I’ll go home, pack a few things, and jump on the first train available.”

  “Yay! I’ll make chicken quesadillas to eat when you get here so we’re not starving at the show. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Aria hung up. Tonight she would meet a musical celebrity whom she’d admired for many years. How strange, though, that the professor said nothing about his friend Anton being in New York. Perhaps he wasn’t aware? She’d call Jacobs later and let him know.