Little Miss Ball Breaker
Chapter Two
Extraction with No Strings Attached
By Wednesday Salem was bored out of his mind. Drop Nala at school, go back home or to Tyson's and wait to pick her up. He couldn't drink, couldn't go to a club; he just had to sit around, behave and wait to retrieve her at 1615. Monday he slept, Tuesday by 1000 he was picking at fuzz on Rios' drapes and returned to his own place and cleaned it top to bottom; something he never did unless Rios threatened him with a beating. So on Wednesday half way home from the school he had a thought. Pie; he felt like pie and Rios had a chef's kitchen. A quick trip to the store and a buggy full of pie supplies solved the problem.
Once back at Rios', he got to work baking. First he made the dough from scratch then he began the fillings, and finally set about getting the three pies into the oven. He looked around the big kitchen and sighed. He'd thrashed the normally tidy room and after studying the mess decided that cleaning it up was probably the better road to travel. He rinsed the bowls and utensils, loaded the lot into the dishwasher and mopped the flour dusted tile floor.
"That should do it. Now all I need to do is clean the bathrooms, throw in the laundry and sweep the foyer. See Samantha that's on the list for today, and I'm doing it. Should make up for skipping church on Sunday."
The pies finished baking about the same time that he'd completed his chores and he set them out to cool. Apple, peach and cherry; Nala should like all three and freshly baked pie would be the last treat the girl would be expecting for dessert especially from him. Content with his accomplishment, he hadn't baked a pie since working in the prison kitchen as a juvenile; he checked the schedule for that night. Nala had Judo practice, a damn sight more effective than Tae Kwan Do, at 1700. 1700 until 2200, an extra-long practice because the Dojo would be competing in a tournament over the weekend. Rios hated to miss it but it he'd promised Samantha Fiji in May and the tournament overlapped the only free two weeks the men had off from SSC.
Salem checked his watch. 1230 if he waited until 1415 to get her they wouldn't have time to eat the pies before practice. He dug through his wallet and found the battered slip of paper with Nala's check out information on it.
"Password is, "Жир шут. Zoor choot. That works. Ok so I'll just extract her a little early. It'll be puurfet. Then we can eat some pie and she'll have digestion time…you are tactical genius Elliot Nicholas Salem."
A Half an hour later Elliot parked in the school parking lot. He wasn't sure why but the idea of going into the front office made him very uncomfortable. Committed he marched ahead and pulled open the door. It smelled just like when he'd gone to school and that gave him a further case of the jitters.
"Can I help you?"
He paused just inside the door, looked across the office at the volunteer, an older woman, behind the desk and frowned. Old was not good. Old meant she'd be crotchety and abrupt and he just did not manage those attributes very well.
"Yes ma'am, I ah, I need to check out my…well niece please." He said crossing to the tall counter a broad smile on his face.
"And her name would be?"
"Nala Rios, ma'am."
The woman paused in her typing at the key board and looked up at him with a scowl. Just as he'd figured she thought he was some kind of child molester.
"Nala? Her uncle. Nala doesn't have an uncle in Florida."
"Oh, well Tyson, her old…her father and I we're old friends, so I'm Uncle Elliot. That kind of uncle. He's vacationing in Fiji and I'm kid sitting."
"I see. Well, that kind of uncle, why are you checking little Miss Nala out today?"
"Little Miss Nala? Why?" The politeness slipped away and Salem was once again Salem.
"Why, because I need to notate the reason. Records, you know for the records."
Salem hadn't planned for a why. What the school care why you wanted your own kid early. Wasn't their business.
"Yea for the records. I'm pretty familiar with records. She has the Flu. Yea, the Flu came on suddenly."
"I have a note that says she has the dentist next Wednesday, nothing for today."
"Well you can't exactly make an appointment for having the Flu can you Ms. Rath-big-gerston. Rathbiggerston?" Elliot replied sounding out the dreadful name.
"Yes, Rathbiggerston, old English name goes back several generations. I need to see identification. The Flu, if Nala was sick why did you send her this morning?"
"Came on after that."
"And how were you made aware of her illness?"
Salem was getting ready to come unglued.
"How? I…"
"Please tell me that she did not utilize a cellular telecommunications device during school hours to alert you to her distress. If that is the case then the ramifications for Little Miss Nala will be quite serious."
"Ramifications? Little Miss, my happy ass Little Miss…"
"Mr. Salem!"
"Oh sorry, excuse me but really have you ever met Little Miss Nala, Ms. Rathbiggerston?"
"I have and she is an extraordinarily gifted and delightful child. Tyson and Samantha have done exemplary job with her upbringing. Why?"
Salem forced down the vision of Nala blasting away with his new CZ 97and his Galil on Sunday and focused back on Ms. Rathbiggerston.
"Delightful. Just curious. By chance Ms. R. were you teaching school say back in 1975 or '76 in the swamps of Louisiana?"
"Excuse me. How old do you think I am?"
"I…you…never mind and no Nala did not utilize a cellular device. I just…well she was under the weather this morning and I probably should have kept her home, but I'm new to this whole kid watching op; although I did steal some money from the church collection box and buy and raise some sea monkeys once. I was about her age. So yea in hind sight, despite my orders to follow Samantha's schedule, she just needs to be at home resting. Just following my gut. It's what keeps me and her dad, Tyson, alive at our job. Following our instincts, it does. Very important, gut instinct, so I am, we are pretty good at it."
Ms. Rathbiggerston looked up at Salem her mouth agape. Even if he proffered the required identification he was just too odd and she didn't feel comfortable releasing the girl to him. He was dressed in worn, holey Levis, tucked into untied boots. The shirt he wore was for Israel Weapon Industries Ltd, an automatic weapon's manufacturing company, and his hat was on backwards over a shock of unkempt hair. To top it off it appeared that he hadn't shaved in days and the puffiness beneath his eyes betrayed lack of sleep or worse yet some form of substance abuse. What confused the old educator was that she knew Tyson and felt fairly certain that he would not leave Nala in poor hands. Well that was provided the man was telling the truth.
"Yes gut instinct, I'm trying to ignore mine just now, Mr. Elliot because it is telling me to send you packing. Are you intoxicated?"
"Drunk? No why? Haven't drank, drunk, imbibed anything in days. Kid duty, I'm on kid duty."
"Eyes, puffy eyes tell-tale sign."
"Allergies. Allergies to just about every god damned plant on the planet, now can I check out my niece or not? Projectile vomit is not a pretty sight."
"Project…"
"Ile vomit. She almost had it last night."
"Almost? Is that possible?
"I had a case back in Bosnia; horrible absolutely horrible, the anxiety was…the almost of it…"
"Bosnia? What exactly is it you and Mr. Rios do to have such good gut instinct?"
Salem had reached the end of his patience. Who did this old bitty think she was?
"Private military contractors. Soldiers for hire."
"Mercenaries."
"Have it your way. Me, my specialty is sniper and demolitions."
"That explains Nala's Alice pack."
"Alice pack?"
"My two sons are Marines. I am familiar with the military. This whole privatization bill will never pass. Senator Whitehorse will see to that."
"We'll see. And my sympathies for your boys. Should 'a gone Army. Rangers rule. Tell 'em to quit and go private. They'll make six figures easy if they're any kind of good. Now, Nala? Please."
"Identification."
Salem handed over his driver's license and waited while Ms. Rathbiggerston scrutinized it. She clicked around on the key board throwing occasional glances his way. He'd had an easier time extracting Rios from the terrorists in Cambodia two years ago.
"You expire in ninety days."
"I what? Expire?" He spat out insulted.
"Your driver's license."
"Oh, that's all. Thought you meant I was gonna catch a round or something. Thanks."
"Ok password, Mr. Salem. I need the password."
Ms. Rathbiggerston looked up at him smugly over the tops of her glasses feeling certain that he did not possess it and that she would be able to have him arrested for attempted child abduction.
"Жир шут. Zoor choot."
"Shore…"
"Zoor choot. Z…Zoor, get it right."
"I need you to write it. It's in Cyrillic and writing it is part of the test."
"Right...Cyrillic. Gimme a pencil."
He took the pencil, scribbled down the words and handed the paper and writing implement back.
"Zoor choot."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you get on the god damned horn and get Nala."
"There is no need to become ornery, Mr. Salem. This is protocol. Mr. Rios' protocol; after all one cannot be too safe when it comes to child kidnappings these days. What does Zoor Choot mean? I am required by Mr. Rios to confirm it."
"That sorry, fat f…" He cut himself off and smiled at Ms. Rathbiggerston. "The Fat one's Jester. That'd be me, for the record. He's the fat one and I am his jester."
"Somehow that does not surprise me. Good, I will call for Nala; it appears that she's in Violin."
"Good she hates that accursed instrument."
"Accursed?"
"It means…"
"I am well aware of the definition. Now if you will just have a seat she will be here shortly."
Salem took a seat on the mango hued bench and groaned. He couldn't believe how difficult it was to simply get a kid out of school early. Before he had time to completely come to terms with the debacle Nala showed up.
"Uncle Elliot?"
"I'm sorry I sent you to school with the flu sweetie, is your fever gone, did you vomit, the projectile kind, is your throat still soar? Come here Little Miss Nala, let's get you home."
Nala stared at him but realizing what her uncle had staged played along.
"Yea throat's all scratchy and stomach's …well projectile vomiting I…maybe still a threat Uncle E."
"Really dear projectile…"
Nala doubled over and clenched her stomach. That was all Ms. Rathbiggerston needed to see. The thought of vomit in her office was enough to sway her mind and aside from that Nala did not seem in any way afraid of her uncle.
"Take her, she's yours. Nala I hope you feel better soon."
The duo left the office and tried their best not to skip happily to Salem's truck; after all Nala was sick.
Once in the truck Salem sighed and banged his head on the steering wheel four or five times.
"What were you thinking, Dragon One? Really, the flu? Pulling that on Rathbiggerston. Oh hell and heathens I am so fucking compromised."
"What? I have goodies at home and you need to rest before Judo. I got you out just chill and enjoy your freedom. You want to win this weekend right?"
"Yes, but that isn't gonna happen. My fucking Dojo is too nice."
"Language."
"Ugh. You said I had two weeks of free cursing, Uncle E."
"Yea but not too freely. Too nice?"
"Yup you'll see. Why do you think Dad doesn't let you come to practice? He doesn't want you to see how lame it is. Giddy knows. Giddy's tried to tell him."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Hmph, well then I guess I'll just have to recon the Dojo and we'll have to reassess and temper your skill set. In the meantime, early exfil and an afternoon of fun, gimme five!"