by Rene Fomby
“Do you really think a Naval Intelligence Officer would head into dicey territory on a secret mission with nothing more than hand-to-hand combat skills to cover her ass? Really, now, that’s pretty insulting. Is it just because I’m a girl?”
“No, no, I didn’t—” Gavin looked up to see that she was laughing at him. Damn it! Why does she have to be so damned annoying? “Okay, you’ve had your fun. So where is it? And how in the heck did you get it past security on the boat? Or on that airliner into Rome, for that matter?”
Andy brushed past him and pulled out a hairdryer from her suitcase. “It’s all hidden away inside this little thing. Just push this little button while you’re pulling the trigger on the hairdryer and, voilà, the casing falls apart and you’ve got a 45 caliber service weapon at your service. Kinda sucks if you need to dry your hair in a hurry, but it looks identical to a real hair dryer under X-rays.”
“Neat.” Gavin suddenly felt like a complete amateur. “So what else have you been up to while I was riding around thinking I was the next James Bond?”
Andy gave him a pouting look and pointed to the book. “Reading, mostly. And, well, unfortunately, I have some really bad news.”
“Oh? What’s that?” he asked.
“I was checking out the rules and regs for this country, little things like the handgun laws, and it turns out it’s against the law for unmarried couples to have sex. Who knew? So I guess all that’s kinda off the plate for the time being.”
Andy had a smile on her face that was somewhere between sweet and sardonic, and once again Gavin was left completely flummoxed as to what her real intentions might be. He decided to play it safe and play along. “Well, that’s too bad, Andy. Might have been fun.”
“Yeah, might have been fun,” she repeated. “But now we’ll never know.”
“Right. Now we’ll never know.” Gavin changed the subject, happy to move on to a more neutral topic. “So if tearing up the sheets is no longer on our itinerary, did you find something else in the guidebook for us to do, now that we’re stuck here in Tunis for a day or two?”
“You mean, after the pool?” She reached up and liquidly slipped out of her bathrobe. Underneath she was wearing a scandalously tiny red bikini. And nothing else. She spun around slowly, and Gavin realized his mouth had gone completely dry.
“Uh, Andy, you can’t be serious about wearing that out in public? I mean, this is a Muslim country. Besides, it’s raining outside.”
“Of course not, silly goose. It would be completely wasted on these religious tight asses. I just brought this along for your sake. But I guess I should have read the guidebook ahead of time. On the plane, maybe, instead of watching that stupid movie. Then probably I wouldn’t have bothered.” Andy grinned at him through half-closed eyes. “But just seeing the look on your face a second ago was totally worth it. Priceless.”
Gavin suddenly felt the urge for a glass or two of the Chardonnay. “Andy, are we really going to keep doing this? This whole sexual game of cat and mouse? Because I know that’s exactly what’s happening here. Just some kind of game you’re playing, pretending like there’s some kind of sexual tension between us. And it’s all getting pretty old from this end.”
Andy brushed past him as she headed for the bathroom, her left hand pausing ever so briefly across his chest. “Agent Larson, I do believe you’re no fun at all. But okay, give me a sec to change into something a little more appropriate for the local population, then we can skip the pool for now and risk looking into something really exciting for a change. Like that dreary Carthage museum you keep droning on about.” She stopped at the bathroom door and turned around, the look of her almost naked body—twisted coquettishly in a runway model’s pose—hitting Gavin like a hard punch to his stomach. “Oh, and after that, I found some great suggestions for dinner. I’m not all that impressed with the restaurant up on the roof of this place, given the swill they served up for lunch. And after all, what good is a government per diem if you don’t stretch it to its edges?”
“The Navy obviously takes far better care of you than the FBI does of me. Even with five star hotels going for little over a hundred bucks a night, by tonight I’ll already be ducking into my own pocket to pay for dinner.”
“Then I guess dinner’s on me,” Andy said as she slowly closed the bathroom door behind her. “Call it a kiss and make up after hurting your widdle bitty feelings with all the teasing.”
Gavin was left staring at the closed door as she dressed. Does she ever let up?
38
Tunis
After the museum, Gavin and Andy took a long stroll along the Lac de Tunis and the Japanese Gardens before settling in for dinner at La Salle a Manger, a French restaurant near Belvedere Park. Gavin ordered a steak, which came cooked to medium rare perfection with crunchy vegetables and a somewhat lumpy serving of mashed potatoes. Andy opted for the seared arctic char with creamed gnocchi and peas. She seemed to be keeping her thoughts mostly close to herself during dinner, but when their dessert arrived, a mousse chocolate with a side of blue cheese sorbet, Gavin decided it was time to break the ice.
“So, about your name. How did you come to be called Andy, and not Andrea or at least the more typical feminine version, Andie?”
Andy tried a small taste of the mousse before answering. “Never was Andrea growing up, always Andie.” She tasted a bit of the sorbet, wrinkling up her nose and pushing it across the table toward Gavin. “And I never was all that girlie when I was young. Went out for sports instead of cheerleading. Actually did pretty well at softball, playing first base mostly. My junior year in high school we lost the state championship on a walk-off homer in the tenth. Boy, that really sucked. So anyway, when I was filling out my application for the Naval Academy, on a whim I just kind of changed my name.”
“You can do that? Just change the spelling of your name, right out of the blue?”
“Yeah. I mean, officially everything said Andrea, but they had a line on the form that asked what I wanted to be called. So that’s where I changed it. By the way, the chocolate’s not bad.”
“Not bad at all. But I’m not too fond of the blue cheese ice cream, either,” he said, pointing his spoon at the slowly melting dish. “So you made it into Annapolis, eh? What was that like?”
“The Academy was a real sausage fest, and as a girl I had to work twice as hard as any of the guys. Otherwise the sexual harassment and putdowns would eat you alive. But it worked out okay, I guess. With all the extra effort, I finished tops in my class, which is how I eventually made it into Naval Intelligence. That and the fact that I seem to have some crazy affinity for numbers. Hidden Figures and all that. You gonna finish the mousse?”
Gavin rubbed his belly. “No, be my guest. I think I’ve had way too much to eat already. Starting to get a little sleepy.”
Andy stopped to lick her spoon, then dug around on the plate for the last morsel of dessert. “So, how about you? What’s your story?”
“Not much to tell,” he answered. The waiter arrived with the check, and Gavin waived off Andy’s offer to pay, handing the waiter his credit card instead. “Grew up in Arizona, went to Arizona State, undergrad in history with a minor in art history.” Andy raised an eyebrow at that, and he shrugged it off. “I grew up with a mom who was an art nut, and some of it just rubbed off, I guess. Anyway, after graduation I found out that the world had almost zero intentions of beating a path to my front door. Believe it or not, there really isn’t much demand out there for history majors, and even less for art history. So I did what so many other clueless, out of work college graduates did, which is go back to school. Law school, to be exact.” The waiter showed up again, and Gavin signed the credit card slip and added a generous tip.
“So you’re a lawyer?” Andy asked. “I take it you focused on criminal law? Given that you wound up at the FBI.”
“No, actually, I tried my hand at family law at first,” he said. “There’s no money
in criminal, and I couldn’t seem to get my foot through the door in civil litigation, but it turns out the divorce business is booming these days. Well, I thought it was, at least. But unless you’re well established, almost all of the divorces that wind up on your doorstep are for couples who don’t have a dime to their names. Part of the reason why they weren’t getting along in the first place, I suppose. So, once again, my well thought out personal business plan wasn’t going so well, and when a friend hooked me up with a recruiter from the FBI, I jumped at the chance. By the way, you ready to go grab some fresh air?”
“Sure,” she answered. “Now that the rain seems to have stopped, how about taking a walk through the park to work some of this food off? I’m pretty stuffed myself.”
“Good plan. I don’t know how safe the park is at this time of night, but if you and I can’t handle any local trouble that comes along, I think we’d both have to turn in our badges.”
“We don’t actually carry badges where I work, but I get your drift.”
Outside, the air was beginning to cool down nicely. They walked quietly down the Rue Ibn Rachiq toward the park, Gavin staying on Andy’s curb side to protect her from water being splashed up by the cars racing down the rain drenched streets.
“Okay, so you’re with the FBI. How did you wind up getting assigned to Morocco?” Andy asked after a spell. “Unless I’m missing something, it’s not exactly a career hotspot.”
“No, it’s pretty much the end of the world, especially for a career Fibber,” he agreed. “But … the answer to all of that is pretty complicated. Let’s just say I made a really huge mistake, one that couldn’t be fixed. Two agents died on my watch, and the killers got away.”
“Oh! You’re the one—” Andy stopped herself in mid-sentence, now completely embarrassed.
“Yeah,” he answered, looking off into the distance. “I’m the one.” He glanced back in her direction, and to Andy’s credit she didn’t look away. “So they gave me a choice—either Morocco or retirement, which would put me back to square one again. I decided to keep the steady paycheck until I can I figure out something better to do with my sorry life.”
“I see. Makes sense.” Andy shoved her hands in her pockets, uncertain of what to say next. So she didn’t say anything. Eventually they reached the far side of the park and turned to head back. The silence was awkward, and she decided to break it by changing the subject. “So, any family back in the States? I can’t imagine a good looking fellow like you staying single for this long—” As soon as she said it, she realized that once again her foot was firmly planted in her mouth.
“Yeah,” he responded, slowly. “I was married. Once. Have two kids, a boy and a girl. They live in Cali, up in the Bay Area. With their mom. We got divorced when everything went south at the Bureau. Turns out she had her own personal business plan, and I wasn’t going to be a part of it.” He glanced over at Andy and shrugged.
“Gavin, I’m so sorry—” She reached out softly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now I feel really bad about how I’ve been treating you, about all of the teasing. If I’d known—”
“Hey, it’s cool.” Gavin was walking along on automatic, head down, watching the sidewalk in front of him. “And you know what they say about why divorces are so expensive. Because they’re worth it. If I’d known how she really felt about me all those years, how ready she was to jump ship as soon as we encountered any turbulence in our lives, I might have jumped myself. Before we had any kids to screw up. That was the worst part about doing family law—seeing parents using their kids as ammunition, instead of fighting their own battles as adults. And I am absolutely determined not to fall into that trap myself. Not to make my kids suffer any more than can be helped.” Suddenly he stopped and turned to face her. “But, hey, what was that all about, anyway? That sex kitten thing you were doing?”
“Yeah, again, I’m so sorry about all that.” Andy reached up subconsciously to sweep a lock of stray hair from her eyes. “To be honest, I’m not really all that sure myself where that came from. It’s so not me, you know? I mean, back at the office, I’m like the iron maiden, completely asexual and untouchable. I have to be. Again, the whole sausage fest atmosphere.” She waved her hands in the air, and he nodded for her to continue. “Then, there we were in the airport, and I caught you staring at my butt just like all the other guys I have to work with, and it was like, ‘Screw you, asshole.’”
Gavin smiled, remembering how humiliated he’d been at the time. “Okay, and I absolutely deserved that. I’d say no excuses, but in my defense, I am a guy, and it has been a really long dry spell for me. Plus, to be fair, any guy who could keep from staring at your butt at that particular moment would almost certainly have had to be gay. And maybe not even them.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment and just say thank you.” She paused for a moment, watching his eyes, then slowly turned and started walking again back down the path. “And, for the record, any girl who would let a guy like you go has got to be either gay, or insane. Or both.”
For the first time since his world imploded back in Texas, Gavin felt his heart skip a half beat. Maybe this Andy version 2.0 wouldn’t be so bad to hang out with after all. And she was certainly a damn sight better to look at than his former wife. But there was one mistake, one lesson he wouldn’t ever let himself forget again: don’t get your honey where you get your money. Or vice versa. You might hope you could wind up with the best of both worlds, two for one, but that scenario almost always wound up zero for two.
39
Tunis
“So the new plan is to skip over Tozeur entirely and head straight for Matmata and Tataouine?” Gavin was leaning forward, carefully studying the map spread across the bed in their room.
Andy traced the recommended route with her right index finger. “I think it makes sense. We originally planned the detour to Tozeur mostly to eat up some time and fluff up our cover story. And to tell you the truth, the nerd in me would really love to go see the Star Wars sets there. Plus there’s supposedly an amazing lake just outside of Gafsa—called the Lac de Gafsa, if you can believe it. Really creative, right? Anyway, that would be fun, but I’m concerned that the longer we stay in country, the better our odds for getting discovered and arrested. And getting arrested in Tunisia would not exactly earn me a gold star back at the office.”
“Or me either,” Gavin agreed. “So, we take one of the main highways south out of Tunis. Do we go coastal, or directly to Kairouan? The direct route is quicker.”
“But also much less scenic,” Andy suggested. “Remember, we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon.”
“Gotcha. That leaves heading southeast along the coast. But then, once we get to Gabes, why not continue straight south to Tataouine? Matmata is pretty far off the beaten path.”
Andy slapped him lightly on the arm. “Because it’s my mission and I say so. Besides, there’s no way I’m traveling all this way and missing out on seeing Luke Skywalker’s old home out in the desert. I’ll leave you behind if I have to.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get testy. Jeez!” Gavin pointed back to the map. “So, Matmata, then Tataouine. But our target site is pretty far southwest of Tataouine, in the restricted military zone. How do we sneak past the guards?”
“Seriously? Did you read any of the packet I sent you?”
Gavin shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t know there was going to be a test. I figured you just brought me along to keep you warm at night.”
“You wish.” Andy let out a deep sigh, then turned back to the map. “In Tataouine, we go to the Wilaya, the Governor’s Office. There we show them our suggested itinerary, along with all of the required documentation—names, passport information, vehicle information, and so forth. Once they’re happy, they’ll give us an official form to present to the military base at Remada. The army office at Remada will examine the form, record all of the pertinent information, and then hopefully grant us permissio
n to proceed south.”
“Just like that? Two American honeymooners who just happen to want to drive around for kicks and giggles in the godforsaken Sahara Desert? Doesn’t that seem a little off to you?”
Andy shot him an exasperated look. “I swear, the next time I agree to take on a new partner, there will be a test before we start the mission.” She picked up a small book that was lying on the bed among a stack of other papers. On the cover was an enlarged photo of an ant, and below that some Latin phrase that Gavin couldn’t figure out. “As I so carefully laid out in the mission packet, my cover will be that I’m head of the entomology department at the University of Oregon, and I’m going out into the desert to study a very unique species of ant called the Cataglyphis bicolor that only lives in the southern Tunisian desert.”
“An ant? You’re literally looking for an ant pile in the middle of a desert? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“No, I’m not. And this is no ordinary ant. Saharan desert ants are scavengers. They forage for the corpses of insects and other arthropods that have died from all the heat out in the desert. But these little guys are tough. They’re designed to survive in all that heat. Unlike all the other known animals—that’ll drop dead pretty quickly at temperatures above 50° C—Sahara Desert ants can easily sustain a core body temperature well above 50° C, and search for food in surface temperatures up to 70° C.”
“Okay, so a desert ant that likes the desert. Truly amazing, if you ask me.”
“It is amazing, you numbskull.” Andy held up the entomology study she’d be using as part of her cover story and turned to a section titled Foraging Behavior. “Remember that the Sahara has like zero geographical features to use for navigation. If we didn’t have GPS, we’d be lost in a heartbeat. But this ant leaves its nest for about three to five minutes at a time—just about the limit of how long it can survive out in the sun—and starts its search for food. And these ants are quick little boogers. Some of them have been clocked moving across the sand at almost one meter per second. If they do come across something, or if their time outside the nest is up, they head directly back to the nest, never once missing the entrance. Somehow they can use the angle of the sun, their sense of smell and their ability to count their steps out and back to find their way home. Pretty remarkable.”
