Last Op

Chapter 22

With their NVGs in place and staying close to a hedgerow, the two Americans moved quickly and silently toward their destination. Grant held his .45, with an Uzi slung over his shoulder.

An Uzi was Adler’s weapon of choice for this evening’s activities. His .45 was holstered. A rucksack was on his back.

After ten minutes, Adler held up his fist and whispered into his throat mike, “Target in sight.”

Grant came around him, looking across the airfield. From where they were standing, they could see a faint light from inside the building. Approximately thirty yards from the building was the plane. On the north side of the building, and barely visible, was the Range Rover.

Grant whispered, “Looks like all the ‘players’ are here.”

Their first objective was to find the Henleys. They started toward the building, crouching low.

The grass was slick from constant rain and mist over the last few days. It could be in their favor, as they tried to stay in stealth mode.

“Hold it, Joe,” Grant whispered. They dropped to a knee. It was still dead quiet. They hadn’t seen any movement. But they did finally get a better view of the plane. The exit door was raised. Steps were lowered. Small overhead lights could be seen inside the cabin. They still weren’t close enough to tell if anyone was inside.

“Let’s move.”

Raising their NVGs, they made their approach from the south side of the structure, passing a single door. Continuing straight ahead until they were about fifteen feet beyond the back wall, they dropped to a knee again, listening for anything, but hearing nothing.

They crept slowly, staying parallel to the building, until they were opposite a small window. A dim light flickered inside. It was too freaking quiet, but considering only Labeaux and the two Arabs were supposed to be here, maybe that was good.

Grant pointed a finger toward the window. He took the lead with Adler just behind him.

Reaching the building, Grant flattened his back against the cold concrete left of the window. Adler took up a position to the right. With his .45 close to his cheek, Grant held his breath, leaning toward the window, trying to see in the room. Unable to see anything from that angle, he stepped back. He looked at Adler before trying again, only this time he stood directly in front of the window. The room appeared to be empty, until he looked down to the left. He spotted Henley, slumped sideways, staying very still.

Grant looked to the opposite side of the room. Victoria. She was laying in a curled position, with her hair covering her face. He could see a rope around her waist.

Stepping back, he held up two fingers, pointing toward the room. Adler gave a quick thumb’s up, then slowly lowered his hand when Grant shook his head. Were the Henleys alive or dead? Either way, they had to get to them out.

Suddenly, Grant heard voices. What the hell were they saying? He tried concentrating on the sound. His mouthed curved slightly. He knew. They weren’t talking. The Libyans were chanting their evening prayers.

Now was his chance. Hoping Jack was unconscious and not dead, he had to try and get his attention. He stepped in front of the window again. Keeping his eyes on Henley, Grant tapped on the window. No reaction. He tried again. This time Henley moved. Relieved, Grant blew out a long breath. He tapped again.

Henley struggled, trying to sit up straight. He couldn’t figure out where the noise was coming from. Grant continued to slowly tap the window until Henley finally looked up and saw him. Grant smiled and gave a quick salute.

Henley dropped his head forward, shaking it in disbelief. As much as he tried to reassure Vicky that Grant would find them, he had his own doubts.

Grant backed up, this time giving a thumb’s up to Adler, who pumped his fist in mid air. Grant pointed two fingers at his eyes, then toward the opposite side of the building. Adler nodded, then cautiously walked along the wall toward the far end.

Grant waited until Adler disappeared around the wall. Then he headed slowly to the opposite corner, stopping briefly. He leaned forward, just enough to see. Clear. Then, he eased himself around the side, passing the main door, before he stopped again. He still heard chanting, but where the hell was everybody? Looking around the corner, he couldn’t zero in on the Arabs. Then he spotted two dark forms kneeling, not far from the plane.

He heard Adler in his earpiece, “Coming back.” Within seconds, Adler was behind him.

With the Libyans preoccupied, Grant knew this might be the only opportunity they had to get inside. But not knowing where Labeaux was worried the hell out of him.

He motioned Adler to stay at the corner, while he checked the door. Moving cautiously, Grant shifted his weapon to his left hand. He nearly had his right on the door knob, when a sound above made him freeze. He looked overhead. A balcony. He couldn’t see who was there. The only person it could be was Labeaux.

He stepped back, looked at Adler and pointed overhead. Adler acknowledged.

Grant tried the doorknob again, gave it a slight turn, then opened it just a crack. Adler signaled no lights. Grant pulled it open just enough to allow Adler to slip inside, then he immediately followed. He closed the door. Letting their eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, they walked slowly toward the staircase that led to the balcony. No sound came from above them.

A door to the left, one that Webb had described, was closed. A light shining from underneath constantly flickered. The Henleys were behind that door.

Adler stood just to the side, close to the stairs. He waited for Grant to make his move inside. With his Uzi ready, he’d keep watch. Grant looked at him and they both gave a quick nod.

Taking a deep breath, Grant put his left hand on the doorknob, praying it wasn’t locked. It turned. In a split second, he was inside. Immediately, Adler took up a position next to the door, keeping his eyes on the stairs, then the side entry.

Grant put a finger to his lips as Henley looked up at him. He pulled his K-bar from the leg strap as he got down on one knee and sliced the rope. Unhooking a canteen from his belt, he made Henley drink, then whispered, “Can you walk?”

Henley nodded, answering, “Think so.” He whispered with a raspy voice, “Vicky! See if Vicky’s okay.” He stretched his legs in front of him. They felt numb. He kept watching his wife.

Grant knelt next to her, then brushed aside hair covering her face. Even in the dim light, seeing her sallow complexion made him worry. Dried vomit was at the corner of her mouth and on her clothes. He felt for a pulse in her neck. It was weak, but she was alive. He looked at Henley and gave a thumb’s up.

Grant cut the rope from her waist and wrists. Cradling her against his chest, he poured a little water in his palm, and put it near her mouth, trying to moisten it. She remained motionless.

A decision had to be made. Should he leave the Henleys here while he and Adler took care of the Libyans and Labeaux? Or should they try and get them a safe distance away?

There wasn’t any way Henley could walk by himself. Vicky would have to be carried. The odds of them making it without being heard, or seen, were slim, especially with Labeaux on the balcony. They would probably be safer in this room.

Gently laying her on the floor, Grant scooted to Henley. “Jack, let me help you.” He put Henley’s arm over his shoulder then lifted him enough to have him walk. He helped him sit on the floor near his wife. Henley leaned over and kissed her cheek, then gently rubbed a hand over her head. “Vicky,” he said quietly.

Grant squatted down. “Jack, we’re gonna have to leave you here while we take care of things.” Henley looked at him with bloodshot eyes, nodded, then immediately turned to his wife.

“Here. Take this,” Grant said, with his .45 laying in his palm. “It’s ready.”

Henley took the gun. “But how… ”

Grant slid the Uzi from around his side. “Don’t worry. I’m good,” he said, patting the weapon. “Look, Jack, I’m gonna shut the light off. We’ll signal you before we come back in.” He laid a reassuring hand on Henley’s shoulder.

Standing, he turned on his penlight before shutting off the overhead bulb. He went into the hallway, closing the door quietly.

Adler looked at him questioningly. Grant whispered into his throat mike. “They’re weak. Need to take care of business… quick.”

He no sooner got the words out when they snapped their heads toward the stairs. They both froze, hearing a door closing. There was the sound of footsteps. They rushed under the stairwell. Grant drew his K-bar.

It went quiet for a moment. Labeaux noticed there wasn’t any light shining under the door. He assumed the bulb finally burned out. He stepped off the last step and started toward the door.

Before he had time to react, a strong arm was around his throat, pressing so hard he thought his windpipe would disintegrate. He felt a cold blade against his cheek.

Adler immediately stepped in front of him, keeping his Uzi in full view. He patted the terrorist down. Pulling a Luger from Labeaux’s shoulder holster, Adler flipped on the safety then stuck it in his belt.

Grant backed up, taking Labeaux with him. When he was at the wall, he spun around, shoving Labeaux’s face into the concrete. Blood spurted from Labeaux’s nose.

Pressing his left hand against the back of Labeaux’s head, Grant leaned close, saying with his voice low, “Your IRA friends are dead, Labeaux. And the explosives? Well, we took care of them, too. And you can stop waiting for Webb.”

Labeaux struggled. Grant slammed his face into the wall again. “We can do this all night, but I don’t think your face is gonna enjoy it.”

As much as Grant wanted to end this guy’s existence, right here and now, bringing him in would be almost as satisfying. Then again, giving him up to the Libyans might feel just as good. And maybe even better.

But it was the plane that worried Grant… the Libyans’ plane. The word “fanatics” came to mind. What if they wanted to retaliate for a plan gone awry? What if they decided to “hit” the base, or Newquay, on their own? Even without a weapon, the damage and loss of life could be devastating.

There had to be a way to end it here. He signaled Adler closer, then whispered only a few words. Adler responded with a thumb’s up.

Labeaux ran his tongue across his lips, tasting blood, just as Grant swung him around. Adler slapped a piece of duct tape across Labeaux’s mouth. He ripped another larger piece, securing the terrorist’s arms behind his back. Grant motioned with his head. Adler took off.

Grant shoved Labeaux onto the floor, then stood next to him. The entire time they waited for Adler’s return, Labeaux would feel the K-bar’s cold, smooth blade sliding up and down his cheek.

For Grant, getting Labeaux out of this building and away from the Henleys was priority. If all shit broke loose, Jack and Vicky needed a chance to survive, and inside a reinforced concrete building might be the way.

Labeaux’s head was spinning. This couldn’t be happening! How was it possible?! Sweat rolled down his eyelids, stinging his eyes. These men were the two from the harbor. He was positive. And it had been the woman who gave him up. He should have had Aknin kill her and her husband the same way the detective was sliced. Now, there wasn’t any way for…

A sudden thought jolted him. Massi! There was still Massi and Aknin. Knowing the reputation and ability of those two gave him a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe it wasn’t over yet.

Aknin stood at the bottom of the planes’ steps with two rolled up sajadas (prayer rugs) under his arm. He allowed Massi to go ahead of him, then he followed. He stopped briefly in the doorway, looking back toward the building. Labeaux had been gone a long time… too long. But it had been quiet since he left. Perhaps he’d finally taken care of the annoying hostages once and for all.

He joined Massi in the cabin, then carefully and respectfully placed the sajadas in an overhead bin.

“Come, Razzag, sit,” Massi said. “Have some juice with me. We’ll discuss the upcoming event. It will be a glorious day.”

Outside, Grant took slow, careful sidesteps, walking parallel to the building, keeping his body behind Labeaux. His left hand had a firm grasp on the terrorist, while his right held the Uzi. The plane remained his center of attention. He knew Adler was already in position, with an unobstructed view.

Grant stopped. He jerked Labeaux closer. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Labeaux struggled. Escaping seemed impossible.

Grant shouted: “Massi!”

Both Libyans dropped their glasses. Aknin practically ejected himself from his chair, scrambling to get his Beretta from the counter. In one giant step he was near the door, backing up against the bulkhead. He pulled his dagger from its scabbard.

Massi stooped down, trying to see out the window. Finally, he spotted one, or possibly two men standing near the building. It was too dark to tell exactly how many there were, and no way to tell who they were.

“Aknin,” he whispered. Getting Aknin’s attention, he pointed out the window. “Possibly two men… near the building.”

Grant shoved Labeaux forward. “Labeaux’s here with me, Massi! He has something to tell you!”

Labeaux tried to run but Grant grabbed his arms, yanking him back. “I guess he’s lost his tongue! So, I’ll tell you! He’s fucked over you, Massi! The men and explosives don’t exist! You won’t be getting what he promised you! You can kiss your money good-bye, too!”

Aknin leaned out the door, aiming his Beretta in the direction of the voice.

“Wait!” Massi said, reaching for Aknin’s arm. Aknin lowered his gun.

Massi was beginning to wonder if he should believe this person. If he was being told the truth, the three governments had just lost fifteen million dollars. The plan, and his hiring of this terrorist mastermind, had been his idea, his suggestion. He could be blamed for its failure, and accused of taking the money.

Massi stroked his beard nervously. Why would Labeaux betray them? He never knew of Labeaux turning against any of his ‘employers’ in the past. Then again, maybe it wasn’t about the money after all. Labeaux probably had enough to last more than ten lifetimes.

There was only one reason he could think of. He and the Libyan government were being used by Labeaux for reasons unknown. And now, this person, who sounded to be an American, had taken away any chance for an attack, any chance to get their hands on a nuclear weapon. Massi’s head pounded with such intensity, he expected it to explode. Rage, pure rage raced through his body.

Holding his position — and Labeaux — Grant figured he’d given the Libyan enough time. “Massi!”

Massi pushed a surprised Aknin aside, then leaned toward the open doorway. “I want Labeaux!” he demanded.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Grant’s face. “Sure! Sure you can have him, as long as you get your asses outta here! Go back to Libya, Massi! Explain to your boss what happened! Explain this to Masrata!”

Grant pushed Labeaux to the ground, face first, keeping a foot on his back. “Come and get him! And, by the way, in case you’re wondering… I didn’t come alone!”

Massi backed up and drew his pistol. He motioned for Aknin to get Labeaux.

Grant held his position over Labeaux as he saw the bulky figure of Razzag Aknin coming down the stairs. A side of Grant’s mouth curved up, watching Aknin looking around, trying to see if there was anyone else he had to worry about.

When Grant saw Aknin step off the last stair, he removed his foot from Labeaux and backed up to the building. He continued aiming the Uzi at the oncoming Libyan. He waited.

Labeaux rolled on the ground, unable to get to his feet. Guttural sounds escaped from his throat as he struggled, his eyes wide with fear and panic. His body bumped into something. Whatever it was… it moved.

Aknin finally stood over Labeaux, but kept staring at the figure near the building. It was too dark for facial recognition. He reached down, noticing something or someone wrapped in a cover of some kind. He looked up again at the American.

Grant said, “Take that package, too. It’s a traveling companion for Labeaux.”

Aknin reached down and jerked Labeaux to his feet. He looked one more time at the American, then bent down, and grabbed a loose section of tarp. He dragged it behind him, as he led Labeaux to the plane.

Grant could only shake his head. “That’s one big son of a bitch!” he said in barely a whisper.

He shouted to Aknin, “Tell Massi I want him out of here now! No waiting until daylight! Any problem with that, I can always call in air support to escort him and you outta here!”

Aknin stopped. Should he take the chance? His confidence in using his dagger and always winning his battles made him pause. He let go of the tarp and shoved Labeaux to the ground. He moved his hand to his dagger.

“Don’t even think it,” Grant said with his voice deep and menacing. The sound of him drawing back the Uzi’s action bolt added more incentive for the Libyan to leave.

Aknin jerked his head left, hearing a distinct sound of another weapon being made ready. Hesitating briefly, he reached for the tarp, and Labeaux, then started walking to the plane. At the bottom of the stairs, he let go of the tarp, then stayed behind Labeaux until they were inside the cabin. Pushing Labeaux to the floor, he went back outside to bring in the “package.”

Massi was standing over Labeaux when Aknin came in with the tarp-wrapped object. He pulled it off his shoulder, dropping it next to Labeaux.

Massi turned his head. “What’s that?”

Aknin shrugged his shoulders. “The American said it was a companion for Labeaux.”

Massi’s eyebrows came together as he questioned the statement. He removed his dagger from the scabbard, knelt down and felt along the tarp. He sliced it open, then stared into the terrified face of Colin Webb, the fool who was working with Labeaux.

“Sir, the American said we must leave now.”

Massi stood slowly. His eyes narrowed. “Now?! He’s ordering us to leave now?! Ordering us?!”

“Yes. He has threatened to call in air support, sir, if we do not.” Aknin waited briefly for a reply, then added, “Sir, I can probably take care of… ”

Massi slipped his dagger into the scabbard, then flopped down on a swivel chair, feeling defeated. “No, Aknin. Prepare for takeoff. I will join you in the cockpit shortly.”

Aknin gave a slight bow, then went to the exit door, looking back at the building. The American was still there, walking toward the plane, but keeping a safe distance. Aknin kept his eyes focused on Grant, as he pulled in the steps. Finally, he sealed the door. He stepped over Labeaux and went to the cockpit.

Massi got out of the chair, then stood close to Labeaux. Looking down at this man, he debated whether to kill him now or take him to Libya. Taking him to Libya seemed the better choice. Perhaps it would be the proof he needed to show the government officials he, and they, had been duped. Explaining all this to the Algerians and Syrians might be much more difficult. He had no doubt they’d be wanting a full refund.

But then, after all, he had “captured” one of the most famous, wanted terrorists in the world. Maybe that would be a way to retrieve the money. Victor Labeaux had a sizable price tag on his head.

Hearing the plane’s engines, he left Labeaux to think about his situation. He joined Aknin in the cockpit.

Grant kept his eyes on the plane, when Adler finally jogged over to him. “We good?” Adler asked.

“I assume we are.”

“We are very good!” Adler laughed, settling his eyes on the aircraft.

Just then they heard a voice. “Grant?”

Grant turned. “Jack. Are you all right?” He and Adler backed up, moving toward Henley, but they continued watching the aircraft.

Henley came around the corner, with the .45 in one hand, and the other hand braced against the building for support. “I’m okay,” he replied with relief in his voice. He turned his attention to the plane, now lining up for takeoff.

Grant raised the barrel of the Uzi, resting it against his shoulder. “How’s Vicky?”

“She still hasn’t come around, Grant. We need to get her to a hospital.”

Grant placed a hand on Henley’s shoulder. “We will. We’ve got the van parked down the road. Joe will drive it up here in a minute.”

The sound of the engines revving up once more drew the attention of the three men. Henley leaned against the building as Grant and Adler walked toward the runway, then stopped.

The plane’s bright lights lit up broken slabs of concrete as it began its roll. Within no time, it was in flight, leaving the airfield behind. Aknin slowly brought the craft on a course west, heading for Newquay Bay. Once over water, he’d turn south. The first refueling stop was hundreds of miles away.

Without saying a word, Adler jogged off to get the van. When they returned to the base, they’d contact Townsend. His men could retrieve Webb’s car.

Henley handed Grant the .45. “Is it really over?”

“Pretty much, Jack.” Grant gave Henley the canteen, then holstered his weapon. He hooked the canteen on his belt, then raised Henley’s arm and put it over his shoulder before taking one last look at the plane’s fading, red blinking lights.

He helped Henley into the room where Victoria was still laying unconscious. Hearing the van’s engine, Grant asked, “Jack, can you hold the door open?” Henley nodded. “I’ll carry Vicky out.” Lifting her gently, Grant cradled her against him then carried her to the van.

Adler stood by the open door, and taking Vicky’s limp body carefully from Grant’s arms, he placed her on the bench seat. Then, he offered a helping hand to Henley.

Grant got behind the steering wheel, and asked over his shoulder, “Jack, you want to take her to a local hospital, or airlift her to Mildenhall?” He put the van into gear and started driving.

“Mildenhall,” Henley replied.

On the way back to St. Mawgan, Adler used the radio to call Marine Lieutenant Colonel Donaldson, telling him the base could stand down. Next, he contacted Chief Becker. A chopper had to be ready for immediate takeoff.

A short time later, exhausted, hungry and glad it was over, Grant and Adler stood in the field behind EOD, watching the chopper lift off. They gave a quick salute to Henley, who was leaning against the open cargo bay door. He returned their salute.

When the chopper was no longer in sight, Grant slapped Adler on the back. “I know — you’re starving.”

Adler shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m more hungry or more tired.”

“That’s gotta be a first!” Grant laughed. “Come on. Promise you that after we call the admiral, we’ll do whichever you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” Adler yawned.

With their butts dragging, and looking like hell, the two walked into the EOD office. A roomful of men were waiting for them.

Chief Becker announced: “Attention on deck!” The men snapped to attention. Although not quite in unison, they said, “Morning, sirs!”

Adler nodded as Grant replied, “Morning, gentlemen. As you were.”

Chief Becker stepped forward. “Captain, we’re all wondering, but will Commander and Mrs. Henley be all right, sir?”

“I’m sure they will be, Chief. Mildenhall’s got some pretty sharp doctors.”

Grant reached for the doorknob to Henley’s office, when Becker stopped him. “Uh, sir, we realize we don’t know the whole story, but what we’re really wondering is if… if the commander… ” Becker was having a difficult time getting the words out. From the overheard conversations that went on in Henley’s office, Becker was concerned.

“Don’t worry, Chief. We’ll try our damnedest to see he gets through this.” He gave Becker’s shoulder a tap.

“Thank you, sirs.”

Grant and Adler went into the office. Adler collapsed on a chair near the desk. Grant stretched his arms overhead, and slowly walked to the window. “Almost daylight, Joe,” he commented looking toward the horizon. He turned, seeing Adler already asleep, with his head resting on the desk.

Sitting on the swivel chair, Grant rubbed his tired eyes then reached for the phone and dialed. He put his head back, and nearly dozed off, when he heard, “Torrinson residence.”

He bolted up, shaking his head. “Sir, it’s Grant.”

Grant pulled into the parking lot of CID. Taking his keys from the ignition, he turned to Adler. “Awake yet?”

“That sure was a helluva short night,” Adler replied, yawning.

“Come on. We’ll talk with Townsend, then drive down to Porthgwarra to say goodbye to Chaz.”

“Chaz? Oh, you mean the dive guy.”

“Yeah. We’ll stop for breakfast, or lunch, on the way.”

“Sounds good.”

Getting out of the MG, Adler zipped up his jacket and looked overhead. “I’m still waiting.”

Grant stood near the front of the car. “For what?”

“The sun! It’s gotta be there somewhere!” Adler said, pointing at a heavily overcast sky.

“Let’s go. Townsend’s waiting for us.”

Chief Inspector Townsend gave a quick wave seeing the two men approaching. “Gentlemen,” he said opening the door.

“Morning, sir,” Grant said. “Sorry we’re late. Sort of had a late night.”

Townsend motioned with his arm. “You know where the conference room is.”

Once they were settled around the conference table, Townsend said, “Captain, tell me what happened.”

Grant filled in all the details from the time they left Detective Sergeant Moore’s body at the hospital to finding the Henleys.

Townsend stopped taking notes somewhere after Grant described locating Webb. When Grant finally finished talking, there was silence in the room until Townsend commented, “Quite an evening for both of you gentlemen.”

“Yes, sir. It sure as hell was,” Grant answered.

Townsend scooted forward on his chair and picked up a sheet of paper, perusing it briefly. “A report came in during the night. It seems there was another explosion, only this one apparently was in mid-air. A Shackleton spotted some small pieces of wreckage several miles off the coast, south of here. The lifeboat from Padstow was sent out to investigate and to search for possible survivors.” He looked at Grant, then Adler. Both men sat without expression. “The debris apparently was from a light aircraft. Oh, by the way. No survivors were found.”

Grant leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers. He gave Adler a quick look before he responded. “You can’t possibly think that was the plane taking ‘our friends’ back to the Middle East, do you, sir? I mean, that’d be one helluva shame. They were such nice folks.”

Townsend hadn’t smiled much during his encounters with these two, but this time he couldn’t hold back. He slid the report into a folder. “Guess we’ll probably never know, Captain, but I guess we can close the file on this Labeaux caper.”

“The file will be closed, sir, correct?” Grant asked in all seriousness.

“I can assure you. Once I finish my report, it will be.”

“Thank you, sir.” Grant stood and pushed in his chair. “If that’s all, sir, I think we’ll go. We’re heading down to Porthgwarra to say goodbye to a friend.”

“Good diving down there,” Townsend commented.

“I managed a few dives before the, uh, interruption, sir. It is spectacular. If you ever want to dive, I can recommend Chaz Davis. He’s got a dive shop and boat.”

“I’ll keep him in mind.” Townsend came around the table, extending a hand to Adler, then to Grant. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Hope you can visit our lovely country again.”

“I hope we can, sir,” Grant replied.

Townsend walked with them to the parking lot. As they settled in the car, he leaned toward the open window. “When will you be leaving Newquay?”

“Early tomorrow morning, sir. Our flight is scheduled to leave Mildenhall in the afternoon.”

Townsend extended his hand again, which Grant grasped firmly. “Fair winds, gentlemen.”

His internal clock brought him out of a sound sleep at 0500 hours. Laying on his back, with his left leg hanging over the edge of the bed, Grant slowly opened his eyes. Trying to get his bearings, he rubbed his eyes then blinked a couple of times. Morning light was showing through a space between the curtains.

The soft sound of her breathing and warmth of her body made him turn his head. She had her back to him, her body covered with a sheet and blanket. Her brown hair was no longer in a braid, but fell loosely on the pillow.

Smiling briefly, Grant carefully eased himself out of bed, then picked up his clothes from the side chair. He felt around the floor for his shoes before remembering he left them by the couch in the living room the night before. Walking from the bedroom, he closed the door quietly behind him.

Draping his clothes over the couch, he picked up his trousers, stepped into them, then buckled his belt. He went to the window and pulled a curtain to the side, just enough to let in some light. He leaned toward the window, looking overhead. The beginning of the day was starting with light cloud cover, but there was a glimmer of sunlight on the horizon. Finally, no fog, and no rain.

A small B&B across the street and one block down, still had a light on its sign above the door. A small white delivery truck stopped in front. The driver got out and put a small wooden crate in front of the door. He returned to the truck then drove away.

Walking back to the couch, Grant noticed the two wine glasses and empty bottle of Riesling on the coffee table. The bouquet of flowers he bought still looked and smelled fresh. He put on his T-shirt before taking the glasses to the kitchen sink.

Walking barefooted to the small bathroom, he had just enough time to splash some cold water on his face and swish some around in his mouth.

After tying the laces of his sneakers, he put on his jacket. With one more glance at the bedroom, he decided to leave a note. He clicked the top of the ballpoint then reached for a napkin on the coffee table.

He wrote:

He looked around for a place to leave the note, then laid it next to an electric tea kettle on the counter where she was bound to see it.

Grabbing his baseball cap from the coat rack by the door, he quietly left the flat.

During his drive to the base, he thought about Abigail Hall. Their brief encounter left him wondering if he’d ever be able to settle down. There’d been a number of women in his life since Jenny. But losing her, without being able to see or talk with her before she died, left a feeling of guilt that kept interfering with his life. Maybe he needed to talk to Dr. Freud.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled in front of the barracks, seeing Adler standing near the door with one foot propped on a bench. He gave Grant a quick two finger salute.

Grant put the car in neutral, set the hand brake, and got out. As he walked toward Adler, he said, “Aren’t you the early bird!”

“No more than you!” He bent down and picked up his rucksack, adjusted it on his shoulder before lifting a small leather satchel and his wetsuit bag. As Grant reached down for his own gear, Adler said, “I take it you said your goodbyes.”

Walking to the MG, Grant nodded. “Yeah. Hey, didn’t have time to ask you, but how are you and Beth making out?”

Adler dropped his gear behind the car. “We aren’t. She decided to move on.”

“Jesus, Joe. I’m sorry to hear that. You think both of us might need to talk with the good ‘doctor’?” Grant asked, flashing a grin.

Adler was temporarily stumped, then it dawned on him. “We’d probably have our own chapter!”

Grant unlocked the trunk then lifted the lid.

Adler looked inside the small space. “You think all our shit’s gonna fit in there?”

“We can be imaginative in packing, unless, of course, you’d rather wait for another chopper.”

“Hell, no! I wouldn’t pass up the chance driving with you ‘hell bent for leather’ along the hedgerows!” He dropped his wetsuit bag in the trunk. “How the hell long’s this trip?”

“About seven hours, depending on speed and wind direction!” Putting the last bag in the trunk, Grant closed the lid.

“Captain! Lieutenant!” Chief Becker called, being followed by the EOD team.

Grant and Adler stepped away from the MG. “What’s up, Chief?” Grant asked.

“We just wanted to say good-bye, sirs, and thank you.”

Both officers shook each man’s hand. Grant said, “Appreciate it, Chief, men. Listen, if you’re ever in D.C., look us up, okay?”

“Yes, sir!” Becker replied, smiling.

“Guess we’d better hit the road,” Grant said, opening the door.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Adler proclaimed.

“What?”

Reaching inside his jacket, Adler took out a pair of sunglasses. “My last day here, and the freakin’ sun finally makes an appearance!”

Grant laughed as he got in the car. “Told you the rain was your fault!”

Adler slammed the door. “Just drive! And stay away from those damn hedgerows!”