by Leigh Barker
Teddy, watching from Dryer’s office on the first floor, shook his head slowly. “Women drivers.”
Dryer looked up sharply from the file he’d been studying. “Comments like that will get you a gender equality program.”
“You’re right,” Teddy said, miming a stab to his chest. “My bad.”
“She’s a good agent,” Dryer said, returning to his file.
“For a woman.”
Dryer looked up and raised his eyebrows.
“I know. Gender equality program.”
“Exactly.” Dryer closed the file and patted it. “Creech could’ve been a disaster of biblical proportions.”
“How so?” Teddy raised his hand. “Sure there would’ve been a big bang and some loss of life, but—”
“The press would’ve had a field day. The home of the drone, the most potent weapon in the war against terrorism, vaporized.”
Teddy smiled without humor. “And your agents with it. You could kiss any chance of promotion goodbye.”
Dryer closed his eyes at the thought. “Exactly. The team saved the day.”
“Master Sergeant Ethan Gill saved the day,” Teddy corrected. “With NCIS Agent Kelsey Lyle’s able assistance.”
“She threatened to shoot an airman.” Dryer tapped the report file again.
“Made her point, though.”
“She did. And it was all I could do to stop the airforce locking her up and throwing away the key.”
“She saved their camp from obliteration.”
“She did that,” said Dryer with a shrug, “but she broke their rules doing it.”
“And made them look like a horse’s ass.”
“That too.”
Dryer glanced out of the window at the SUV departing down Pennsylvania Avenue. “I don’t want it to go any further,” he said, looking back. “But I thank god those two are on our side.”
“Say a thanks for me too,” said Teddy. “Ethan’s a hell of a cop.”
“And Lyle’s a hell of an agent. Together they’re greater than the sum of the parts.”
Teddy looked out of the window. “Yes, they are, aren’t they?”
Kelsey took a tiny bottle of gin from Ethan’s minibar, looked at it and put it back. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, crossing to the door. “I need a proper drink.”
Ethan chuckled. “Been a long day.” He tossed his new grey suit jacket on the bed, pulled his blue raincoat off the chair, stepped up and opened the door.
“It’s not the day that’s bugging me,” Kelsey said without moving.
“The mole?”
“Yes. Why would somebody do that? And now who do we trust?”
He shrugged. “Same people as always.” She waited and Ethan closed the door. “Each other,” he said with a little shrug.
She tilted her head. “Then you trust me?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
His smile widened. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ah, right! And I didn’t see you noticing.”
“I heard you called Shapiro a jackass.”
She smiled too now. “It seemed appropriate. But so what?”
“If you’d been the mole, you wouldn’t have done that.”
“Maybe it was a bluff.”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have done that, because you would have left the base.” He opened his hands quickly. “Kaboom!”
“Right.” She pointed at the door. “Then let’s go celebrate having somebody to trust.” She tilted her head. “And not being kaboomed.”
“At the base. Did you see Mancini or Rayford?”
She stopped and shook her head.
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Ethan said and stepped past her. “There was a lot going on.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.” She followed him out of the hotel.
Kelsey chose a bar across the street, because it was cold, she said, but it was because she didn’t want to be seen out with him in that god-awful raincoat with its wrinkles and stains.
And that’s exactly why he’d worn it. Wear a suit for long enough, and people think you’re a suit-wearer.
He held open the bar door and felt the warm air wafting the smell of beer and steak out into the cold evening air. A great smell. The best. A smell for a man.
Kelsey wrinkled her nose and stepped into the room and looked around. It was a bar. It looked like a bar. And it smelled like a bar. She already regretted her decision to pick the closest one.
It was a little after seven, so the place was as busy as it was going to get. Half a dozen old boys were sitting around the tables along the wall to the right, under the baseball memorabilia the bar owner had probably bought off eBay.
Nobody spoke as Ethan led the way to the bar, but the little groups watched them with open hostility. This was their place, their watering hole where they could talk about women, sport, and their shitty lives, without some woman telling them to get sober and get a job. That was for home, when the bar was closed. So they watched and glared.
Kelsey smiled at them as she followed Ethan, just because she knew what they were thinking and that it would rattle their cage.
Ethan ordered two Michelobs and sat on a barstool and looked around. He wasn’t checking for trouble, for snipers, or for any hidden assassin, he was just enjoying Kelsey’s choice of dive. He knew why she’d picked the place, and intended to enjoy every minute.
A steak and fries would be good. And his stomach could handle anything, even something cooked in this dump. And Kelsey would be appalled. He smiled.
The barman dropped two Michelob Lights on the bar and let them foam. “Twenty dollars,” he grunted.
Kelsey started to speak but caught Ethan’s look and shut up.
Ethan leaned away from the overweight barman and the smell of stale sweat. The man was wearing a vest. It was December and freezing, and he was wearing a vest and stinking of sweat. A heart attack waiting for the flag to drop.
Ethan wiped the froth off the top of the bottle and then wiped the bottle neck on the sleeve of his raincoat and took a sip without taking his eyes off the barman. “It’s flat,” he said with a shrug and put the bottle back on the bar. “I’ll give you five dollars for them.”
The barman blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what was being said. He squeezed his eyes closed and open. “Ten dollars.” He put out his hand but then pulled it back. “I mean twenty dollars.”
Ethan smiled. “Is that each or for the whole delivery?”
The blinking again.
“Because if it’s for the whole delivery, I gotta tell you, that’s way overpriced.” He raised his hand. “But if it’s each, well, you’re giving them away.” He smiled.
The barman wiped his ruddy face with the back of his fat hand and wobbled his jowls. He looked past Ethan to the old boys sitting and watching with interest. Nothing ever happened in Earl’s Tavern, so it made a change. Nobody offered to help.
“Err,” the barman said. “Ten dollars.” He licked his swollen pink lips.
“Seems fair,” Ethan said and pointed at the bottles. “Give us two more.”
The barman turned and pulled two more bottles from under the bar on complete automatic, popped the caps, and put them next to the others.
Ethan took ten dollars out of his wallet and put it in the froth. “You keep the change and have a good evening.” He took Kelsey’s arm and walked to the door.
The barroom was totally silent as the collective single-figure IQ tried to work out what had happened. By the time they realised those guys had paid ten dollars for four drinks, they’d gone.
“You didn’t drink the beer you paid for,” Kelsey said, looking back at the bar.
“Don’t drink the water in Mexico either,” Ethan said with a smile. “And…” He looked up at the sign above the bar. “Earl’s Tavern is a short cut to the ER.”
“You’re still ten dollars out.”
>
He shrugged. “Was worth it.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“Not lately.”
Kelsey’s cell rang, and she stepped back up to the storefront next to the bar to answer it.
Ethan pulled up the collar of his raincoat and stepped up to the curb to look for a taxi that wouldn’t be there now he needed one. He turned to look back at Kelsey. She was leaning back against the store window as if she’d been hit.
He was at her side in two strides. “Trouble?”
She looked at him, and her eyes slowly showed recognition. She nodded once and licked her lips while she remembered how to speak. “Somebody has taken Tessa.” She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. “My daughter. Somebody has taken my daughter.”
Ethan took her arm. “Then let’s go get her back.”
She followed him without thinking as he led her back to the hotel. As they stepped into the lobby, she stopped and disengaged her arm. “How?”
He waved her on towards the elevator. “We’re cops, right?”
She nodded and followed.
“Then let’s do cop things and go find her.”
She picked up the pace and waited for the elevator doors to close before speaking. “How?”
“You asked that already,” Ethan said and pressed the button for the fourth floor. “Where was she?”
“With her father in New Orleans.”
Ethan gave her a double take, and she shrugged. “He’s a software entrepreneur.” She looked away. “He’s got more money than a horse has hairs. She has the best of everything. He can give her everything she wants. I work all the hours god sends. What can I offer her? She’s always going to be better off with her father. What kind of life would she have with me? Any time I could come home in a body bag. How’s she going to live with that?”
Ethan was standing in the corridor and holding the elevator doors open. She sighed heavily and stepped out.
“One thing he couldn’t give her that you can,” he said as he turned to head for his room.
“What’s that? What could I possibly offer that he couldn’t beat with all his money?”
“Safety.”
She stopped and watched him walk on to his room. The world tilted crazily and she closed her eyes.
“You coming?”
She pulled herself together and followed him into the room and started to take off her coat, but stopped when he scooped up his leather bag and jacket and left.
“Where are you going?”
“I told you,” he said, striding back to the elevator that was still on their floor. “To get… Tessa.” He pressed the elevator button and waved her to move.
She ran to the elevator and stepped in beside him. “You’d already packed.” She pointed at the zip bag on his shoulder.
“Never know when I might be moving out.”
“You do know you’re not in the marines any more.”
“Wasn’t,” he said as he pressed the lobby button again. “Am now.”
“What’s in that thing that you think important enough to fetch?”
He glanced down at the black bag. “Everything I’ve got.” He flashed her a thin smile. “Not much, is it?”
“If that’s all you need,” she said with a little shrug, “then it’s everything.”
He liked this woman more and more.
“What’s the plan?” It never occurred to her that he might not have a plan.
“You go see Dryer and get him to throw everything at finding her.”
They stepped out into the lobby, and she stopped. “Why would he help? It’s not an FBI case.”
“Sure it is.” He waited a moment, but she didn’t see. But with her kid missing, it wasn’t really surprising she wasn’t up to her usual sharps. “Same case.” He saw the look. “Think about it. We stop Faraj’s attack on Creech and make him look stupid. Then your kid… sorry, Tessa disappears. That’s no coincidence. Somebody wants you out of the game.”
“Then why not just kill me?”
Now he shrugged. “Maybe this somebody wants to make you pay for clipping his perfect score.”
She nodded once. “It is a big coincidence, day after Creech.”
“Too much of one,” Ethan said and started walking towards the doors. “And if I’m right, then it’s good news.”
She ran after him. “How’s it good news? Somebody has Tessa.”
“True, but she’ll be alive.” He stepped out into the cold night, saw a taxi and waved it over. “Faraj wants to make you suffer for what we did. He’ll keep Tessa alive and you running around in circles.”
She took a long slow breath and held it, then breathed white mist into the cold air. “I think you’re right.” She straightened up without thinking. “I’ll make sure Dryer puts all the FBI’s resources onto finding her.”
“Get him to assign that kid from the lab. Lisa, I think.”
“Okay. What are you going to do?”
He opened the taxi door and beckoned her in. “We’ve got a leak. I’m going to find somebody we can trust.”
“Who?”
“My old unit. If they’re still alive and not in an old folks’ home.”
“Do you want me to tell Dryer?”
“Let’s keep it between us for now.” He pushed the taxi door closed.
She rolled the window down. “Are you going to New Orleans?”
“I am.”
“You think she’s still in Louisiana?”
“Yes, no reason to move her across state lines and get the FBI involved. She’ll be around New Orleans someplace.”
“Bring her home, Ethan.”
“You do your thing, and we will.”
He watched the taxi move off through the light traffic towards Pennsylvania Avenue and the FBI, and hoped she believed him that the kid was still alive. He didn’t.
Ethan had been right; most of his recon unit were still alive. Four of the five were waiting for him at Louis Armstrong Airport. That they’d got there before he did told him they’d just dropped whatever they’d been doing and took a plane. Just like that. Man, he loved these stupid jarheads; didn’t they know they were rushing in to get themselves killed? Sure they did, but they’d done it anyway.
Ethan came out of concourse D and into the main terminal, found the nearest bar and, with it, found the boys. He glanced at his watch. Eleven thirty. He’d lost an hour on the flight, but the boys had still beaten him there and with enough time to find a bar. It was some sort of rum bar. He hated rum, but the place looked fine.
“We’re leaving,” he said and slung his bag back over his shoulder.
The boys put down their drinks. “Where we going, boss?” Loco Mendez asked with a big grin. “I like the fine drinks here.” He held up a crimson concoction in a plastic glass.
“Okay,” said Ethan. “Then you can stay and enjoy your…” He leaned over the table and looked closely at the gaudy drink. “Menstrual blood on ice.”
Loco pulled a face like he’d accidentally touched a turd, put down his drink, stood and looked at the other three still sitting. “You heard the man, we’re leaving.”
The others shook their heads sadly and stood. Ethan was glad to see they could still do that without the help of a walking cane or a care assistant, now they were well into their forties.
Ethan frowned. “Where’s Bailey?”
Their smiles vanished.
“You know he didn’t function too well back in the world?” Ben Stenick said with as slow shake of his head.
“Sure, but I thought he’d got over that. I haven’t heard of any trouble for months.”
“That’s because he walked into a bank in Tijuana,” Jerry Winter said, looking down.
Ethan waited and looked him over as if inspecting him for battle. Winter’s hair matched his name. It was as white as snow, but not because he was older, it had always been white, even when he was a kid, which was probably why he was such a tough SOB. He’d had to fight his way
through childhood and then reprised it when he joined the marines.
He looked up with eyes like dark smoke holes beneath his overlong hair. His once taut skin was lined now, and his face was rounder from good living and a life-long love of beer.
“He tried to rob the place, right?” Ethan said and sighed.
“Not really,” Jerry said. “His gun wasn’t loaded.”
“But the federales didn’t know that.”
“Like they’d care.”
Ethan looked over at Chuck Petty and saw that civilian life had done nothing to soften his gunnery sergeant’s fierce expression and icy blue eyes.
“Suicide by cop?”
Chuck nodded once. “I guess that’s one way for a decorated marine to go. Face down on some stinking Mexican street.”
“Can’t blame the Mex’s for that. They asked him to put it down when he walked out of that bank. He didn’t. His choice,” Jerry said.
“Pity,” Ethan said. “He was a good man.”
“Dunno about that, Top,” Smokey Vernon added as he downed the last of his disgusting crimson drink. “Good grunt, maybe. Good man. Nah. He liked hurting people.”
Loco Mendez slapped him on the shoulder as he passed, and had to reach up to do it. Smokey was six foot four against Loco’s five-seven. “Still not forgiven him for kicking your bony butt after all these years.”
“It wasn’t no fair fight,” Smokey said. But he was talking to four backs as they left the bar. He picked up his go-bag and followed them, his long stride catching up in a few steps. “Where we going, boss?” he asked, to change the subject.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Ethan said and headed for the exit. “If NCIS Special Agent Kelsey Lyle is half as good as I think she is.”
The others exchanged knowing looks and wide grins.
“Will we be invited?” Mendez asked.
“To what?” Ethan said, waiting for the punchline.
“The wedding.”
Ethan stopped, and Mendez almost ploughed into him. “There might not be any latrines to dig,” he said, turning his head and looking down at the little Latino, “but when the shooting starts, somebody’s going to have to go first.”
Loco grinned. “Then colour me in for that, Top.”
