by Brian Drake
Papa Osborne didn’t get to finish. As he choked on his next words, Aaron let out a sob too, and father and son met to warmly embrace. They held the pose a long time without words. Their tight squeeze and quiet sobs communicated everything either needed to say.
Raven turned to Tracy. She wiped a tear form her left eye.
Hell of an actress.
Or she really believes him.
Father and son finally separated, and Osborne the Elder said, “Welcome home.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Aaron smiled and introduced his father to Raven and Tracy. Mark shook Raven’s hand and offered Tracy a hug, which she accepted. He said to Raven, “I hear you and Aaron are war buddies.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for looking out for him.”
“He saved my bacon once. He’s a good Marine.”
“We can talk war stories later. Brenda has a tri-tip cooking and it smells wonderful. We got plenty of beer and wine too.”
Tracy said, “I like wine.”
“Then let’s go and open a bottle,” Mark said. “Tonight is a celebration. If you drink too much, we have a couple of guest rooms all set up.”
Mark led them into the house.
22
Inside, the house was as nice as the outside. A marble walkway lead down the center with a furnished living room on the left. The leather couches and glass coffee table sat on plush white carpet. Art decorated the walls, large paintings of exaggerated cityscapes. Raven figured each one came with a story and Mark would happily provide details if asked.
But now was not the time for a tour. Mark led them through the house to a set of sliding glass doors. They exited onto the back patio. Yup, Raven thought, plenty of space for a pool.
“Hi!”
Brenda Osborne stepped away from a large propane grill. The smoke from the grill carried the smell of juicy beef. She ran to Aaron first for an embrace, then asked who his friends were. As Aaron made the introductions, Mark handed Raven a bottle of cold beer and poured a glass of wine for Tracy. He gave Aaron a beer and Raven and Tracy exchanged hellos with Mrs. Osborne.
This can’t be an act.
Raven and Tracy traded wary glances. He needed to talk to her about the situation soon. He read only curiosity in her eyes.
Beyond the patio was Osborne’s tennis court. On the other side of the tennis court the desert stretched for miles. Only jagged mountains stopped the expansion. The view was intoxicating. The comfortable evening temperature made Raven decide he could do worse than spend his final years in Nevada. If I live long enough to retire.
Brenda returned to the grill while Mark directed his son and his guests to a set table. Raven and Tracy sat next to one another while Mark sat beside his son. The bandanna around Aaron’s forehead had dried. He wasn’t sweating now, and Raven hadn’t seen him this at ease since they started the scheme back in Paris.
Raven tasted his beer. He’d have preferred water, but he wasn’t about to argue. Hydration was hydration. He wasn’t a beer expert, but the brew was tasty. He looked at the label. Sierra Nevada. He chuckled.
Mark Osborne kept the conversation light. Brenda cooked and refused any help from Raven and Tracy, who wanted to let the Osborne men have their moment. They sat at the table and tried not to feel awkward as Osborne and Son talked.
Raven again wanted to revise his suspicions. Aaron had to have been telling the truth despite his wild operations in Marseille. Clark Wilson and the CIA were wrong. He was wrong, too. Tracy would have to come up with a reason to dump Aaron (again), return to Langley and continue with future missions. They'd need to handle the issue of the French cartel with direct force; one thing at a time, Raven decided.
Raven swallowed more beer and watched Mark Osborne talk with his son.
“What do you want to do now, Aaron?”
“Good question. I’m not sure myself. I don’t think I could go back to the firm—”
“Why not?”
“Just isn’t me, Dad.”
“With your experience overseas, you’d be a great help to our sales department. You’d be on the road, not stuck in an office. You could talk to the military about how things really work in the field. I’ll tell ya—some of the older brass seem to have forgotten what the frontline soldier goes through.”
“I’d rather do something not related to war.”
“Like what?” the Elder Osborne said.
“Like a bait shop. Something—”
“You’ll starve.”
“Then I’ll go to the coast. California or Washington have plenty—”
Brenda Osborne turned away from the grill to approach the table. “You can’t leave right away. You just got here.”
Aaron held up both hands. “Can we not talk about this right now? I don’t want to work for the firm. We’ll figure something out.”
“All right,” Mark said. “Let’s enjoy the evening. I didn’t mean to upset you. Tell me what you’ve been doing. The last few months, I mean.”
Raven frowned. Last few months?
The elder Osborne’s tense expression caught Raven’s eye. If they’d been playing poker, Raven would know he was bluffing a hand. What did it mean? Had the man slipped in the middle of a calculated performance?
“Well,” Aaron said, “it hasn’t been easy.” He related his frustration with recent mercenary contracts and guarding oil rigs in the Mediterranean. Mark Osborne listened without interruption. When Aaron finished, he said, “Is being broke why you decided to come home?”
“We’ve been fighting long enough, Dad.”
“It was a silent fight.”
“Still.”
“It’s not what either of us, deep down, wanted, and now we have a chance to put it right. I don’t blame you for wanting to go. Every man needs to cut loose from his family to make his own way. I always knew you’d come home.”
Aaron finally dropped the bomb Raven had been waiting for.
“I’m going to pay back the money you gave me.”
“Absolutely not necessary, Aaron.”
“But I have it already. We can transfer it from Zurich.”
“I appreciate the offer but your money is no good here.”
Aaron had no response. His stunned expression said enough. Raven dipped his head a little to hide a smile. Told you so.
During the silence, Brenda announced the food was ready.
Raven let out a sigh of relief. The conversation had been painful to watch. He’d advised Aaron of the futility of his plan. He’d been right about fathers and their children too, assuming what he witnessed between the two was genuine.
But the cartel was still looking for them.
Aaron had created more problems than he’d solved.
Nobody went light with dinner. They piled plates high with tri-tip, vegetables, and buttered corn on the cob. Everyone chewed quietly for ten minutes. Then Aaron said, “How’s business, Dad?”
Mark wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We lost a contract to Boeing.” He told the story of the Pentagon general’s visit. “It’s very upsetting. But it happens.”
A light wind kicked up, bringing with it a chill as the sun continued its descent behind the mountains. Automatic lights snapped on to keep the patio out of the dark.
“It doesn’t put your company in jeopardy, does it?” Raven said.
“No, but it will hurt the bottom line at the end of the year. We still have active contracts, but if the government’s cost-cutting continues, the next set of bids when those contracts come up will be tough.”
“You’ll have to undercut yourself.”
“Yes,” the older Osborne said. “Then we’ll feel pain.”
“I always thought the words ‘government’ and ‘cost-cutting’ were mutually exclusive,” Raven said.
“Maybe it’s not the best description. They want to spend less money, but they still want their bombs.”
“We seem to drop a lot of them in recent years, yeah.”
“We have
to defend America, Mr. Raven. I thought you’d understand the need.”
“One of the reasons I work on my own now,” Raven said, “is the so-called need to defend the United States and its allies became less of a need and more of a way for certain corporations to stay in the black while kicking back to the Feds. We fight wars for profit, not defense.”
Mark Osborne's face went blank. Aaron stopped eating to glare across the table at Raven.
23
Raven ignored his old friend. He wanted to press the elder Osborne further. He was getting ideas again and didn’t like the thoughts in his head one bit.
“You’re talking about war profiteering, aren’t you?” Mark Osborne said.
“If the shoe fits,” Raven said. “I’ve seen too many bullshit reasons offered for why we drop bombs and send young men to fight and die for US policy. We get very little return on investment. Meanwhile the politicians get rich and stay in power and people like you build bigger houses and piss and moan about not being able to build more bombs.”
“Hey, Sam—” Aaron said.
“I don’t mean to be a jerk but it’s a serious problem. We build bombs so we need an excuse to use them.”
Mark Osborne held up a hand. “You’re not entirely wrong. I promise you I do what I do to make sure people like you, Tracy, and my son have the means to defend yourselves.”
“From fights we shouldn’t be in to begin with.”
“Then why do you—”
“I’m selective where I fight and when,” Raven said. “There are valid problems we need to solve and sometimes we need violence to solve them. But it amuses me policy makers ignore most of those valid issues in favor of battles where they have some sort of stake in the outcome.”
Mark laughed. “For oil, you mean? We’re keeping certain families in Texas rich?”
“Oil is a red herring,” Raven said. “There’s always another reason if you look deep enough. We don’t ask questions if the war has been drummed up with false intelligence sold to the public to get their support. Appeal to patriotism. God and Country.”
“I’m afraid there's a flaw in your premise, Mr. Raven.”
“Who else do you sell to?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who else do you sell to?”
“I see. Well, we have contracts with several NATO nations and—”
“I have a real problem,” Raven said, “with private corporations selling weapons to multiple countries. I’m sure you’re on the up and up as you say, but your competitors might not have the same level of integrity.”
“Selling to both sides of a conflict, you mean?”
“Exactly. Cashing in while thousands are killed for no particular reason.”
“I’m sure it happens.”
Raven spotted a reaction in the Elder Osborne’s eyes. His face tightened like it had moments earlier. He stared at Raven as if encouraging further challenge. To continue would invite consequences, and none related to ruining a pleasant dinner on the patio as the Nevada desert cooled.
Wetness dotted Aaron’s bandanna again. What wall had Raven cracked? If Aaron only broke out under stress, how much had to do with Raven’s challenge to his father?
Raven shrugged and said, “I didn’t mean to go off on a rant. I’ve seen too much and it has made me ask questions nobody wants to hear.”
“Questions are good,” Mark said. “You’ve given me some things to think about. I will recommit to making sure Osborne Defense does the right thing. Even if it means selling my products for less.”
Products. The word made Raven mad. The weapons of war were products resulting in broken young people sold a pack of lies in the guise of patriotism. And they weren’t allowed to question their leaders. For the public, there was always a willing media and paid hacks to sell them the virtues of the latest never-ending conflict. The fighting only created more victims. People Raven sought to protect and often avenge. Their predators were those with money and power and the ability and desire to stoke the flames of conflagration and to hell with the mess they made. It never came to their doorstep. The blood of innocent people paid for their luxuries.
Conversation around the table ground to a halt. Nobody made eye contact with each other. Raven continued eating despite his now-cold dinner.
He felt eyes on him. He turned his head to the right, where Tracy sat. Something in her expression told him she’d detected the same look on the older man’s face as he had. They’d discovered a clue to the Osborne agenda, but he still had no idea what their endgame might be.
Staying overnight wasn’t an issue. Raven, Aaron and Tracy said goodbye after dessert and returned to the Peppermill. Aaron said little, and spent part of the drive fussing with his cell phone instead. Raven felt the tension. Aaron’s face indicated simmering anger.
They split up at the West Wing and entered their separate rooms. Raven gave it a few minutes and then walked the distance to the hotel. He found the lobby office center where a computer gave him web access. He looked up Osborne Defense. Several news articles and press releases detailed their successes and developments. He looked up the company’s manufacturing plant in Sparks. It was located outside the city near railroad tracks. Raven figured they shipped the products via train to various military depots around the country. Escorted convoys might also be on the list of options. Raven wasn’t sure how the information helped or if it added anything to the jumble of unanswered questions.
What’s the money for, Aaron? Your father said he doesn’t want it.
Hijacking a train or one of the escorted convoys seemed out of the question. Both would have plenty of armed men standing by for such an event.
But raiding the plant might work. A crew only needed—
An inside man.
And a paid crew to pull off the theft.
What were you doing on the phone, Aaron?
Raven turned off the web browser and hurried back to his room. He needed to call Clark Wilson and get the big dogs working on his idea.
Raven closed the door and threw the locks and grabbed his cell from his shirt pocket. Before he hit Wilson’s number somebody knocked on the door.
Through the peep hole he saw Tracy.
Alone.
Raven flipped the locks back and opened the door.
“Come in,” he said, “and let’s talk.”
She didn’t move. Now Raven saw what he’d missed through the peep hole. Tracy’s face was pale.
“Raven—”
A bulky man with thick dark hair stepped into the alcove and shoved Tracy forward. She crashed into Raven and they tumbled to the floor. Tracy rolled off as Raven scooted onto his back, trying to put distance between him and the big man, who stopped long enough to push the door shut.
24
Raven jumped to his feet and clawed the Nighthawk Custom from under his jacket. He had no suppressor, and didn’t want to discharge the gun. But the weapon served a dual purpose. As the big man closed on Raven, Raven swung the gun. The steel slide crashed into the big man’s head and he dropped, out cold, on the carpet.
Raven pivoted to point the gun at Tracy’s face.
“Whoa!” She put up her hands.
“Start talking.”
“This man showed up after we split with you. Aaron handed me over and told him to make it quick. Then we came here. Clark and Fisher were right, they’re up to something. This whole reunion was an act.”
Raven lowered the .45. He told her what he’d found on the internet and his idea of Aaron acting as the inside man for a robbery of the plant.
“He stole the drug cartel money to pay his crew,” Raven said.
“Do you think his father knows?”
Raven picked up his phone from where it fell. “I don’t know what else to think, Tracy.” He dialed Clark. “You got a gun?”
She bent over the big man and dug a pistol and spare magazine from the man’s belt. “I do now.”
Raven told her about the HK and bulletproof ves
t under the bed. Wilson answered. Tracy dug out the gear. Raven talked fast and brought Wilson up to date.
“What’s your plan?” Wilson said.
“We’re going to the plant. I still have the keys to the rental.”
“See if you can grab Aaron first.”
Raven asked Tracy if she still had the key to their room. She pulled the key card from the back pocket of her jeans.
“We’re on the way. Get whatever help you can muster and send it to the Osborne plant.”
“On it.” Wilson hung up.
Raven put his phone away. “Let’s go see Aaron.”
Tracy held up the HK. “How do I hide this?”
Raven told her to stash it under the big man’s coat. He helped her pull the coat off the unconscious man. Raven’s blow had cut the skin on the side of his head; a trickle of blood wound down his face. Tracy bundled up the submachine gun as if it were a baby and they hurried out of the room.
The lock clicked and Raven entered first. He scanned the room with the .45 at arm’s length. Tracy covered with the HK UMP. But the room was empty. Aaron had fled.
“Now what?” Tracy said.
“Let’s get to the plant. Whatever Aaron has in mind is underway.”
They found the rental car where they’d left it and Tracy used her phone to plot the route. Raven drove.
He still had no answers, but he expected to have the full picture soon. He drove with his hands tight on the wheel. He hadn’t been wrong after all. Now he had to determine the scope of Aaron’s treachery, and whether his father was involved too.
Raven turned off the rental’s headlamps. One more block. The open space around the massive Osborne plant gave them a clear view of the complex.
The long building was brightly lit inside and out. The parking lot lamp posts also shined bright, but the field to the left looked dark. Raven slowed the car and pulled off the road.
He and Tracy left the rental and ran across open dirt until they faced the left side of the building. Light blazed in the rear, but they were flood lamps not attached to the structure. Somebody had set them up to provide illumination. Raven figured Aaron’s theft of his father’s ordnance was underway.
