All In

Muriel grinned at me when I paid for the papers. I tried not to shudder at the sight of her teeth. “There you go, luv,” she said, holding out a stained hand with my change.

I got a look at that grimy hand and decided she needed the change more than I needed to contract a contagion. “Keep it.” I looked into her oddly beautiful green eyes and nodded once. “I’ll be getting all these US papers regular from now on if you want to have them ready,” I offered.

“Oh, you’re a darling, you are. I’ll have ‘em. G’day to ye, handsome.” She winked at me and showed a bit more of those horrifying teeth. I tried not to look too close, but I think Muriel could compete with me on beard stubble. Poor thing.

When I got into my office I started on the intel in earnest. I listened to the message of the man who’d called Brynne. I played it several times. American, very matter of fact, non-confrontational, nothing revealed in his inquiry gave anything away about what he might know. “Hi there. This is Greg Denton from The Washington Review. I’m trying to find a Brynne Bennett who attended Union Bay High School, San Francisco…”

His message was short and utilitarian, and he left his information for a call back. The history showed he’d only rang her the one time so there was a very good chance he didn’t know much, or if Brynne was even the right person he was attempting to contact.

I briefed Frances without giving away specific details, told her to look into this Greg Denton at The Washington Review and also to see what else she could scrub up in the newspapers I’d bought this morning.

I was just sitting back down, eyeballing my desk drawer where the smokes were stashed when Neil came in.

“You seem rather…human…this morning, mate.” He sat in the chair and looked me over, a bit of a smirk going on his square jaw.

“Don’t say it,” I warned.

“A’right.” He pulled out his mobile and looked busy with it. “I won’t say I know who stayed over last night. And I definitely won’t say I saw you two snogging while waiting for the lift this morning on security cam—”

“Piss off!”

Neil laughed at me. “Hell, the office is thrilled, mate. We can all breathe again without fear of disembowelment. The boss got his girl back. Praise the gods!” He looked upward and held his hands up. “It’s been a f**ked-up couple of weeks—”

“I’d love to see how your miserable arse would do if Elaina suddenly decided she couldn’t stand the sight of you.” I cut him off, offered up a fake grin, and waited for the change in attitude. “Which could always happen, you know, as I know all your shameful secrets.”

Worked like a charm. Neil lost the dickhead posturing in about one point five seconds.

“We’re really happy for you, E,” he said quietly. And I know he meant it.

“How’s the military investigation into Lieutenant Oakley going?” I asked, giving in and opening my desk drawer to pull out my lighter and a pack of Djarums.

“He’s been doing very bad things to the people of Iraq and getting away with it, but not sure for how long that’ll stay buried. I think the senator can only be relieved his son is off getting into trouble in Iraq as opposed to anywhere close to his election campaign.”

I grunted in agreement and sucked back my first, sweet inhale. The cloves gave quite a kick, but I was used to it. Now I just let the nicotine do its work and felt guilty for what I was putting into my body. “So he’s career military you think?” I exhaled away from Neil.

Neil shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Neil had the keenest instincts of anyone I knew. He wasn’t just an employee, not by a long shot. Neil was much, much more. We’d been boys together, gone off to war, survived that hell to return to England, managing to grow up in the process and start a successful business. I trusted him with my life. Which meant I could trust him with Brynne’s as well. I was glad she liked him because I had the feeling she would have to be guarded eventually whenever she went out. Brynne would so hate that. But even as much as she loathed the security detail, she’d not take it out on Neil. My girl was far too kind for that sort of thing.

I wasn’t kidding myself either—friend or no, I was really glad Neil already had a woman, and if he’d been single wouldn’t have been my first choice. He was a good looking guy.

“Well this is the interesting part. Lieutenant Lance Oakely was stop-lossed just a few weeks after the plane went down. From what I could find out, the US pretty much ceased with stop-loss over a year ago, and only just a mere handful are served now.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, mate?”

Neil nodded again. “As soon as the senator found out he was the next vice-presidential hopeful, he got his only son stop-lossed for another tour in Iraq.”

I clucked my tongue. “Sounds like the Senator knows his son very well and figures the further his boy can keep away from the campaign, the better the senator’s chances of being elected.” I leaned back in my chair and puffed on my clove. “Who better to get a stop-loss order than somebody who has political connections. I’m starting to think Senator Oakley rather hopes his son never comes back from Iraq. War hero and all that...looks smashing for patriotism.” I waved my hand for emphasis.

“Precisely where I was going.” Neil eyeballed the ciggie in my fingers. “I thought you were cutting back on those?”

“I am…at home.” I stubbed it out into the ashtray. “I won’t smoke around her.” And I am pretty sure Neil was savvy enough to figure out why I wouldn’t. But that was the thing about friends…you understood each other, didn’t have to explain ad nauseum about painful shit you wished you could forget, but pretty much knew was a part of you down to the marrow in your bones.

Brynne’s mobile lit up and roused me out of my work. I checked the caller ID. One word—Mom.

Well this ought to be fun, I thought as I pressed send. “Hello.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a haughty voice. “I’m trying to reach my daughter, and as I know this is her number, to whom am I speaking?”

“Ethan Blackstone, ma’am.”

“Why are you answering my daughter’s phone, Mr. Blackstone?”

“I’m surveilling her old number, Mrs.—? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” I wasn’t going to give it to her on a silver platter. Brynne’s mum would have to ask me. Nicely. So far, I wasn’t impressed.