CHAPTER 113

Lester's POV

Tank and I were just finishing up for the day when Colonel Striker's secretary buzzed us to let us know he was on his way to our office with a couple of guests in tow. I hustled to throw away the empty coffee cups, while Tank straightened the stacks of documents at the workstation. Now that we possessed the information we needed to play "Whack-a-Mole" with Mary Shamone, we were just waiting for the go-ahead from Col. Striker's boss.

There were three sharp raps on the door before the colonel entered the office. Tank and I stood at attention as our temporary boss ushered two men in suits into the small space. One man was tall, with sandy blond hair, a narrow face and very blue eyes. The other man was of average height, with dark hair and dark eyes and he looked just like my cousin, Julio.

"At ease, gentlemen," ordered Col. Striker. "Sergeant James, Sergeant Santos, I want you to meet Special Agents Larsen and Jimenez. They're with the FBI and they're going to be with you for the remainder of this operation."

I exchanged glances with Tank, even as the tall guy extended his hand.

"Johannes Larsen," he said and he clasped my hand in greeting. "We're with the FBI's domestic counter-terrorism division. I'm the Special-Agent-in-Charge of this case."

The other man stepped forward to shake Tank's hand and introduced himself, "I'm Special Agent Silvio Jimenez. I'm actually the computer specialist assigned to this case. We understand you two have uncovered quite a little cache of information over here, including some computer files I'll need to look at as soon as possible."

"With all due respect, sir," I addressed Col. Striker, "I thought Sergeant James and I were handling this situation, uh, sort of on our own. We've done all this work and…"

The colonel interrupted me, "I understand your concerns, Sergeant Santos, but this is how it has to be. You know as well as I do that the FBI handles this kind of law enforcement. As military men, even as special operators, you are not authorized to issue or serve warrants to members of the civilian population. My boss made that fact crystal clear to me when I gave him the information packet you put together. Now I'm making it crystal clear to you. Work with Agents Larsen and Jimenez and close this case. That's a direct order. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," both Tank and I snapped to attention and saluted the colonel before he left the office and closed the door behind him.

Agent Larsen held up both of his hands in a gesture of surrender and said, "Sorry about that. It's not the way we wanted to come in. I've seen the entire packet you created and it's some of the best fieldwork I've ever seen. Very thorough, very professional."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Agent Jimenez, gazing at our obvious disguises. "When either of you decide to hang up your military uniforms for good, you should consider coming to work for the FBI. We could use a few more agents with your skills."

Tank merely stared at the two men, while I was fighting hard to maintain control over my temper. All I could think about was how much this new twist sucked. I mean, there we were, on the verge of wrapping up this whole mess without interference from anyone outside our unit. I think Tank must have recognized the look on my face because he placed a hand on my arm to keep me from speaking my mind.

"If we're gonna be working together, sirs, we'd better dig in and get started," Tank said.

"Please, call me Lars," Agent Larsen said. "The whole 'sir' thing really isn't necessary."

Agent Jimenez nodded. "That's the truth. Call me Silvio. By the time we wrap up this case, I hope we're all going to be good friends."

"Yeah, this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership," Lars said in a sort-of Humphrey Bogart accent.

Tank and I exchanged another glance and then we submitted to the inevitable.

"My name is Lester," I said as I extended my hand for another round of handshakes. "And this is Tank. It's an honor to be working with you."

And as I looked into each man's eyes, I recognized the same kind of determination and fire that I saw in my mirror every day. Perhaps this really would be the beginning of a great partnership.

Frank's POV

This week sucks. On Monday night, I drove my daughter, Stephanie, and a few of her friends to the airport and they all boarded a plane for Tokyo, Japan. Jeez! I remember going on R&R there once, when I was in Vietnam. It was such a busy city, like New York, even back then. Flying over to the other side of the world takes a long time, so Stephanie wasn't able to call me until Wednesday. I hope they'll all stay safe while they're over there.

Earlier on Monday, long before I took her to the airport, Stephanie went in to her office a few hours before its usual opening time. She hadn't planned on going in at all, but she told me she had some last-minute things to do before her trip. She seemed so excited. Getting the opportunity to travel for her job was new to her and I was proud of all her hard work and her accomplishments. I know she felt bad about changing our plans to spend the whole morning together, but I assured her it was okay. It really didn't make any difference to me, because Blackie and I planned to have an all-guy week, anyway. Still, the house feels empty without her.

After three solid days of Pino's take-out pizza and pasta, I finally accepted a dinner invitation at my daughter, Valerie's place. As usual, it was happy chaos and I was glad to be a part of it. After a very nice dinner of roasted chicken and potatoes, I settled on the sofa with Angie sitting on one side and Mary Alice sitting on the other. I read a few Dr. Seuss stories to them, including Hop on Pop and The Lorax. Then I helped Val put the girls to bed.

"Thanks for coming over, Daddy," Val said as we sipped coffee at her kitchen table. "The girls and I really enjoyed your company tonight. I'm so glad you read to them before bedtime."

I ruffled her hair like I used to do when she was a kid and replied, "Thanks for havin' me over, sweetheart. It's been a long time since I read Dr. Seuss to a coupla little girls."

Val looked at me with confusion in her eyes. "I don't remember you ever reading those stories to me."

"Sure, I did," I insisted. "I know I read more than a few stories to you and Stephanie when you were little."

"Maybe you read to Steph, Daddy, but you never read to me," Val said sadly. "I swear, I would've remembered it. But don't worry; everyone knows Stephanie was always your favorite. I'm Mom's favorite. That's just the way it is and I'm okay with it. I know you love me, too."

My heart hurt. How could I have been so blind? Here I was, blaming Ellen for so much of the crap that had happened in our family and I had just discovered more of my faults.

"I … I'm so sorry, Valerie. I never, ever meant to hurt you." I grasped her hand and held it tight.

She squeezed my hand in return and then she came around the table to hug me. "Oh, Daddy, I never felt like you ever hurt my feelings. I promise. You're the best father ever."

With tears in my eyes, I hugged her back and stifled my tears.

After a moment, Val released me and patted my hand. Her eyes also held unshed tears, as she said, "Daddy, I have some, um, news."

"News?" I asked. "What kind of news?"

"It's about Mom," she said as she glanced down at the floor. "You know the police commissioner, Joe Juniak?"

I nodded, "Of course, I know him. He was a coupla years behind me in school. Everybody knows Joe. Great cop. A shame about his wife, though. I guess it's been about two years since the cancer got her. God rest her soul."

"Yeah, well, I think he's out of mourning," Val said. Then she looked directly into my eyes. "I, um, dropped by the house the other day to check on Mom and, um, Joe Juniak was there."

It took me a moment to realize what my daughter was insinuating and I just had to laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, I think you've got the wrong idea. Dealin' with that scumbag of a husband of yours probably has you thinkin' about affairs all over the place. Your mother would never … no, I can't imagine your mother steppin' out on me. We've got our problems, but she believes in our weddin' vows. She even believes in your weddin' vows. That's why she's been fightin' so hard to keep you married. No, I'm sure you're mistaken. In fact, I asked Joe Juniak to explain to your mom the whole mess Joe Morelli has made of his life. I figured the police commissioner just might be the only person who could make your mother see the truth about that man."

Val sighed, "Daddy, I saw the way they were looking at each other."

I shook my head, "I understand you think you saw somethin', but it was probably nothing. Ellen's always known the Juniak family, and even though we don't really socialize in the same circles, they've stayed kinda close." Now it was my turn to sigh. "The man who your mother would've married was Joe Juniak's cousin."

"Wait," Val's eyes opened wide. "Mom was going to marry someone else besides you? Who was he? How long ago was this?"

"A long, long time ago," I said, and then I told her a much shorter version of the story I'd told Stephanie about Tam Farkas. Damn! I hated talking about 'Nam.

"Omigod, that's so sad!" Val exclaimed after I finished. "Daddy, I'm so sorry. For all of you."

"It is what it is," I replied with a shrug. "Life goes on."

Val shook her head, "I just think you should check on Mom a little more. Even if she and the commissioner haven't done anything yet, they definitely look like they want to. Trust me, I know the signs now."

"Okay, Val," I nodded. "I'll do that. Don't you worry about a thing. We may have our problems right now, but your mother and I aren't finished yet." Then I gathered her in my arms, kissed the top of her head, and got up from the table to head back to Stephanie's house.

On a whim, I decided to drop by my house and check on things, like I promised Val. The porch light cast a warm glow on the front sidewalk, but the interior lights weren't on. That was strange. Ellen didn't usually have any clubs or activities scheduled on Thursday nights. On a different whim, I decided to drive up to Hamilton Township, where Joe Juniak lived. The houses in his neighborhood were very large, with nicely manicured lawns. Juniak's Colonial-style white brick home was quite impressive, with several large columns framing a long front porch. Ellen's car was parked at one end of the circular driveway.

Despite all my differences with Ellen over the destructive way she meddled in our girls' lives, my heart still felt a sharp pain when I realized Val could be right. What an idiot I've been! I'd even sent Juniak to my wife myself. But the saddest thing of all was that I didn't feel the urge to go in and confront them. After all I'd learned about myself during my solo counseling sessions with our parish priest, I realized my romantic feelings for my wife had grown cold. I would always love Ellen for giving me my girls and for making our home as nice as possible before the girls grew up, but if Joe Juniak wanted her now, he could have her.

"Dammit all to Hell!" I muttered as I drove on to Newark. Maybe I was a fool, but if Ellen wanted someone other than me, then she'd have to put things in motion to make our separation final. If she really was becoming romantically involved with the Widower Juniak, the Burg gossip mill would pick up on it soon enough and put the pressure on her. No way was I going to be the one to confront her. After all of Ellen's talk about the sanctity of wedding vows, she'd have to be the one to end our thirty-year marriage. Then maybe both of us could find some real happiness.

Carlos' POV

America! I can hardly believe I'm back on American soil again. ¡Gracias a Dios! Like Dorothy said, "There's no place like home." Except, I'm not really home yet. Stephanie is my true home. Wherever my Babe is, that's where I want to be. And I can't wait to get back to her.

It took close to three weeks of undercover travel through rough terrain, military debriefings, and hospital treatments for some of the very real injuries we had suffered, but Bobby Brown and I and the rest of my team finally returned to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Our aircraft delivered us to a secure airfield in the dead of night, where the team was to stay in the barracks until the completion of the entire mission. 'Mission accomplished' included being able to bring home Hawkins and Bell who were still in Germany recovering from their wounds and mental trauma. And those two ill-fated men couldn't come home until the Chameleon was captured.

That was our team's highest priority now. Finding and arresting the traitor, the so-called Chameleon, who had sold out our country and had condemned the two cryptographers to a certain death. It had only been luck that circumstances had gone the way they had.

First, there was my gut instinct that the captured CIA operative, Curt Morgan, had not broken down under the horrific torture he'd had to endure and that we had been able to successfully rescue him from that Al-Qaeda cell. Our entire mission had changed after that.

The second bit of luck was that Morgan had overheard his captors talking about the faked death of the two U.S. cryptographers. He had learned there was a traitor, a mole, who was feeding top-secret information to someone high up in Al-Qaeda. Morgan was able to confirm that the explosion at the CIA headquarters in Rosslyn was an elaborate ruse to covertly kidnap the two cryptographers. Then Al-Qaeda tortured the men to obtain the top-secret codes the cryptographers had developed to be used by our military to relay critical information to our troops in the field. The Chameleon had to have had access to the cryptographers' DNA profiles and to the forensic evidence to successfully convince the CIA that the cryptographers had died in the explosion. Then no one would be looking for the cryptographers or know the codes had been comprised.

It was a brilliant plan and it would have worked if I had followed Operation Eagle Strike as originally outlined. But something had been set in motion when I admitted to myself that I'd fallen in love with Stephanie. My Babe had restarted a fire in my belly to look at the mission with new eyes. I was determined to come home to her no matter what. So, from the very start of the mission I questioned everything and listened to my gut. And in the end, we'd foiled the brass' ninety percent fatality prediction. And now we were finally home again, though our mission was far from over.

No one without a "need-to-know" was supposed to realize we were back in CONUS (the Continental U.S.) and we were given strict orders to not contact anyone who wasn't directly connected to our ongoing mission. Thankfully, Tank had a need-to-know.

"Hey, Superman, it's good to hear your voice!" Tank sounded as though I had awakened him. "That was mighty fine work you and the team did over there in the sandbox." Even though our military phones were secure, we all knew better than to discuss anything important or relevant to our mission.

"Fun and games, man, fun and games," I replied with a chuckle. "I hear you and your buddy are finally earning your paycheck."

"Yeah, we've been working the night shift so long, I think I'm beginning to understand the whole vampire thing," he said. "You gonna bring me back into the light sometime soon?"

"Damn straight!" I said. "I know you've been forced into working with the guys who wear suits and all, but I've talked our boss into letting me and Brown come up there to assist you on the down-low."

"Actually, the 'Men in Black' are alright," Tank said. "I think you'll like them."

Interesting, I thought. Then I continued with the real purpose of my call. "There's something else I need your help on. I need to see you-know-who. ASAP! I want you to set up a meeting at a particular location. I'm sending you all the details in an encrypted message. You can let me know when everything's in place, but it had better be within the next forty-eight hours."

Tank paused longer than usual before answering. "That's gonna be somewhat difficult, Superman."

A bad feeling crept into my heart. "What do you mean by 'difficult'?"

"Well, you might be CONUS, but she's not," he replied.

"WHAT THE – where the hell is she?" I tried to keep from yelling with frustration, but I don't think I succeeded.

"Japan."

TBC