AN: Because my kid woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep, I decided to clean up Chapter 13 and post a new extended cut of the chapter. My plan is to finish Thursday, finish this, and then it's entirely possible I'm going to go back and polish both this and Tink. Thank you for reading! Insert usual disclaimers here.
Anthony Beals at the age of 18 was bored. Bored out of his mind. He was rich;he didn't have to work if he didn't want to. He was good looking, he was popular and school was too easy. In essence he was coasting and he needed something to do. That "something", turned out to be gambling and drinking to excess. As a result his father, a Second World War veteran, marched him off to boot camp and told him that if he ever wanted to inherit he would have to serve in the military for five years.
It was the best thing that could have ever happened to him; he took to the Army like a fish to water and never looked back.
He learned to fly choppers because he liked the challenge and he was good at it. In 1987, on leave at Christmas, he met Margaret Nadel. She was a Vassar graduate and was smart, funny and gorgeous. She took pre-law and was considering law school. In addition she was a lively conversationalist, interested in politics, and exactly the type of girl his parents would approve of. She dazzled them when he introduced her to them and within eight months of meeting each other, they were engaged and six months after that, they were married. Exactly 40 weeks after the day of their wedding, their daughter, Linda, was born.
Linda was part disappointment and part pride and joy from the minute she was born. An ultrasound told them they were having a boy so when she was born a girl, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. That changed when the nurse placed his little girl in his arms. She became the love of his life and not even her mother could compete with her. He spent every second he could with her and utterly doted upon her.
She looked like him, she developed his mannerisms and she was bright. Naturally he assumed she would be just like him. He was in for another disappointment because with his frequent, prolonged absences, she became her mother's accessory. She may have looked just like him but she was her mother's daughter all the way.
This wouldn't have been such a bad thing if Margaret hadn't suddenly become as seemingly empty-headed as all of those women he despised. He had nothing against her wanting to be a stay at home mother. That wasn't the problem, he adored his own mother and she had been a stay at home mother. The major difference between the two of them was that his mother ran the house like it was a well oiled machine and she never feigned a lack of intelligence. Margaret somehow managed to get it into her head that once they were married, he would soon dislike her if she continued to be the vibrant intelligent woman he fell in love with.
A woman who at one time had been adventurous, became xenophobic, unwilling to travel anywhere outside of New York unless she was going to Germany to visit her father. After her father died Margaret could barely be convinced to leave New York for the Hamptons. As much as Beals loved his daughter, he couldn't stand to stay home with his wife anymore. He began requesting as many overseas postings as he could, spending as little time at home as he could.
On Linda's thirteenth birthday he arrived home to find Linda making out with a high school sophomore and lost his temper. Linda, mortified, had fled the room and Margaret, taking her side, informed him that he had over reacted. That was when he realized that if he wanted his daughter to be the woman he hoped she would be, he would have to take a firm hand and play a more active role in parenting. That's when he decided to retire from military service.
Two years, that's how long it took for him to regret his decision. His wife was worse than ever, his daughter hated that she now had a curfew, he felt was reasonable for a girl her age. She hated that when he caught her trying to sneak out of the house, he installed a security system and refused to tell her the code was to disarm it. Instead of growing closer to her and instead of repairing his relationship with his wife, they grew further apart. In short he was miserable.
He missed the order of the Army, the structure, the wanted to come out of retirement. The problem was that he wasn't looking for long deployments. He wanted a job that would make him feel useful. His father in law, understanding his plight had offered his a job within his company but after about a week it was easy to see that it was a token position that meant nothing. The only thing it was good for was getting him out of the house.
The solution he was looking for presented itself at a charity dinner of all places; one of many that his wife dragged him to where he had no idea what they were supposedly supporting. He had slipped outside, not to have a cigarette but to escape the inane conversation, when he was jostled and literally ran into his former commanding officer, Colonel Ralph Jacobson.
"Well if it isn't Captain Tony Beals!" he exclaimed, "Nice to see you son. These things are God Awful aren't they?"
"They most certainly are Sir." He laughed.
"Can the Sir. We're both retired, it's just Ralph now."
"Habit." Tony laughed, "How are you liking civilian life?"
"I spend most of my time fishing and trading war stories with my former partner. It works well for us. You?"
"Can't stand it." Tony laughed again, "I'm trying to remember why I got out so early!"
"Will your wife notice if you leave this blasted thing for a bit?" Ralph asked, his face a picture of speculation, "There's someone I'd like for you to meet and he's just as bored as we are. There's a bar down the street that has good scotch. We can talk."
"Sounds good." Tony replied. Ten minutes later he was sitting in a booth with a General Frakes, first name withheld, drinking 40 year old Scotch and talking about something very interesting indeed.
"The unit we are putting together is an experiment," Frakes said, "we're starting with a handful of Rangers that we have hand picked and are grooming specifically for this project. We're scouting for talent. We don't care where we find it either; if it exists, we want to exploit it. We're looking at Special Forces to begin with, the Alphabet Agencies next. We're looking at bootcamps, we're looking at Universities, we only want the best and the brightest."
"What's this unit going to be doing?" Beals asked, his interest piqued.
"What nobody else can. We are looking for people who can do the impossible. We are training two prodigies to lead the unit. One of them already works with one of the best natural strategists I've seen. We're letting them get some experience before we put the three of them together. We've got a pair of snipers we're thinking would be a natural fit as well."
"All Army?"
"So far." Frakes said, "We're open to other branches of the Special Forces but just Special Forces for now."
"Are you looking for someone experienced to lead them?" Beals asked, "Because I'd be willing to come out of retirement."
"No, we aren't worried about leadership." Frakes said with a shake of his head, "What we are short on are good pilots. We need fly anywhere types and those who can go at a moments notice. Go bag at the door kind of thing." His phone rang in his pocket and he picked it up quickly. "Frakes… Fuck… Is there a team ready in Paris?… I want her out of there immediately… I don't care, if she got the intel onto the website and sent the distress signal, why is she still in there? Fucker had to spend the night didn't he?.. I'd extract her from the flat right away is what I'd fucking do… I don't care if he's watching… Fine trust her, she's smarter than we are anyways... She's probably thinking that if this is done right , she might be able to use the alias again… What did she use?" He burst out laughing, "Good for her. Tell her I will be waiting for her in Nice and then get me on a flight ASAP." He flipped his phone closed, "Listen, there's been a bit of an emergency. Whole mission might be blown if we don't extract our operative immediately."
"Are you talking about who I think you are talking about?"
"She's going to be a force of fucking nature. She's solo for the first time."
"And?"
"She just killed someone with her god damned earring."
"Why her earring?"
"It was handy apparently." Frakes said with a grin as he tossed some cash onto the table, "There is absolutely no fucking way anyone is going to keep that quiet. I believe a legend is being born today gentlemen. By this time next week, there won't be a brach of our Military who hasn't heard of The Pixie."
He walked out of the bar, his phone in hand, punching numbers in as he went.
"If you are interested, I'll give your record to Frakes. Think about it and call me." Ralph handed Beals a card, "I think we should probably get back to that fucking party."
So Beals put his name forward and didn't hear anything. He figured he'd been passed over in favour of younger, active army Pilots, then two years later he got a call. The team was going to be working in Columbia and needed a pilot who knew the area, could fly anything under any conditions. They wanted him. The only condition was that he'd have to pass an interview with the Lt. Colonels who were running the unit. They had very specific requirements they looked for in their men and Frakes gave them final say. He was out the door almost as soon as he hung up the phone. He left without an explanation beyond, "I've been called up." And within 12 hours he was briefed and on a plane to Columbia.
After he arrived Frakes spotted Beals going to stash his duffle and came out to greet him. "Tony, nice to see you. Seems Ranger and The Pixie have done it again. They found Vasquez. This debriefing should be interesting; you want to sit in? All I caught when they dragged him out of the jeep was something about a bar and something about the judicious use of wing sauce."
They heard a delighted female shriek and they both looked in the direction of the very girly noise. A petite blonde vision caught the General's eye and blew him a kiss, "I should bust her for that." Frakes said,"I really should, but she honestly cracks me up. We've got two more joining the unit who are just as bad as she is for fucking around and I should bust them too; but again, the boys make me laugh." Beals had no problem with horsing around; it was good for morale. As long as they were serious when it came to the job, were respectful and worked harder than they played, what did he care if they fucked around occasionally?
The blonde's eyes widened in alarm and she took off in a fast sprint. Beals couldn't exactly blame her either.A mountain of a man came charging out of the tent she'd just exited and went after her at a dead run. He caught her up and threw her over his shoulder saying "Oh, no! I'm not doing your fucking paperwork, Tink. Not going to happen! I don't give a fuck if you outrank me; and if you call me by my idiotic first name again, there are going to be consequences." He carried her back to the tent and set her down with a thump. Waiting for them at the flap was a very attractive, perfectly sculpted Hispanic man with an amused look on his face although he wasn't exactly smiling.
The man said, "You know you only caught her because she let you, right?"
"Yeah, I know. Also I'm fully aware of the fact that the only reason she hasn't stuffed my 'nads in my ears is because she's partial to me."
"PUHLEASE! Do my paperwork this time, Tank?" She begged, "I need to get some exercise or I'm going to be unbearable. Just think, Tank, of all the annoying little things I do when I'm bored…like humming or the way I constantly fuss with my hair, the sighs…."
"Fuck the both of you. Just leave it. I'll do it. Go run, kick each other's asses, do whatever it is you do to make it so she's not fucking annoying," Tank ordered and the other man chuckled.
"She's got you wrapped around her little finger."
"You love me, Tank."
"I feel something for you. Not sure what… but something." He growled and she and the other man of the trio took off at a quick jog.
"Those two," Frakes said as they jogged away, "Are your potential COs. Lt. Colonels Harris and Manoso. Best there is in the Army at the moment, if not ever. Don't be fooled by appearances. Well oiled machines, all three of them. Tank balances the two of them." His own aide jogged up to them.
"Sir, General Vadrine is on the horn. Needs to speak to you about a situation in La Paz. Something to do with the DEA."
Everything happened rather quickly after that. He was told to suit up and that he would be going to Bolivia with them. He'd pick them up from wherever the hell they told him to and bring them back to Columbia. They were on a rescue mission to locate and rescue some missing DEA agents. Beals couldn't believe how fast they found the missing was less than 12 hours when DEA had been searching for a week with no leads.
"That's how they roll," said one of the other officers who worked in their unit, a man whowent by Ram, "Tink knows someone everywhere in the world and that 'someone' always owes her a favor. Ranger is the fucking man; he's a blood hound. She points him in the general direction and he finds whoever they are looking for. Alone, they can find anyone they are looking for; together, well you might as well just turn yourself in. It'll be better for your health if you do. They aren't natural but you get used to it."
Beals pointed out two locations he liked for the pick up and gave his preference. When they got the call from Tank, he looked at the RV point they'd chosen and it was obvious they weren't pilots. It was an extremely difficult location to do a pick up and he wasn't going to land there. He'd radio when he landed and let them know that if they wanted a ride back to Columbia, they better get their asses to his RV point.
His decision had been a mistake-a big one. It had also been a complete revelation. He was amazed that they weren't just indulging that pretty young thing by saying she could kick Tank's ass. He watched as she just as efficiently and ruthlessly killed as many of the enemy as Ranger did and then they didn't even pause as they leapt into the chopper.
Ranger used both of his bare hands to try to stop the bleeding in his co-pilot's neck asthere were no bandages in the med kit. She peeled off her shirt without hesitation and tossed it to Ranger who had barked orders while saving the life of his co-pilot. She motioned for a headset and Ranger removed one hand to toss it to her before clamping firmly down on the neck wound again. Then she fucking hypnotized the Gunny! How the fuck did she do that?
Beals almost puked when he saw that her hand was inside the kid's leg and she was flirting with the young soldier.
It just got better though-the sparring was a thing to behold. Everyone, even Tank, was afraid to step in and put a stop to it. The two just kept going; they didn't even slow down. Much later, he'd heard music and followed the sound of it. It was the Moonlight Sonata and he found her alone in the mess, and she was dancing. Ballet. The song was on a loop; she was wearing a pair of tiny shorts, a tank top and a pair of pink ballet slippers.
The Pixie looked tired but her dancing was beautiful. He stood watching her for what felt like forever, entranced by her grace, marvelling at the talent that could easily rival anything he'd seen onstage. When the song ended for the umpteenth timehe heard clapping and a slow smile graced her lips as she turned her head towards the sound. "Hey, Carlos."
"I hate that song, Querida." He walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She snuggled back against him looking content. "It's too sad for you."
"It's my favorite. My dad used to play it for me all the time."
"I still like it when you dance to rap music. You look like you're having more fun."
She chuckled softly and turned in his arms and returned the hug, "I love you, Carlos. I needed that. Thanks."
"I love you, too, Meagan anytime," he said softly. They left the mess, arm in arm, her head leaning up against his bicep.
That was the relationship Beals had wanted with Margaret-fierce, funny, feminine, completely capable of taking care of herself and everyone around her, good in a crisis, never backed down, and yet still capable of letting a man take care of her if she needed it. Not afraid of her femininity undermining anything else. Not only that but this woman had confidence in spades and that's what he wanted for Linda. That's what she needed to be like.
When he got home, he told Linda about the extremely young Lt. Colonel he'd met. She didn't really seem to care and it pissed him off. The Pixie should have been Linda's idol; shewas the perfect role model but Linda blew him off. In an attempt to inspire his useless daughter, he decided to researchLt. Colonel Meagan Harris. The woman was incredible. ; She graduated from Harvard at just 16 and from an article written about her in the student newspaper it looked like she could have done anything she wanted with her seemingly endless talent. Yet incredibly, when she was offered jobs with all of the major ballet companies at just 16, she turned them down in order to pursue her education. She earned her first doctorate two years later when she was 18.
On top of the academic and dance accolades she was also still listed as CEO of a major shipping firm. MacDunnaugh International (MDI for short) was huge. She'd been working at her daddy's side since she was five, learning the ropes when she wasn't in school, being groomed for the position. There were pictures of her on the society pages in the newspaper archives as far back as the late 80's serving as her father's escort to parties. Some were as recent as three months before, attending charity events in DC or in New York at an annual shareholders meeting. Tony collected all of these articles. She had become his obsession.
She didn't seem to actually live anywhere, which was weird given her extreme wealth and his major focus became solving that mystery.. Her childhood home was turned into a boarding school and her apartment in Boston was occupied by a Hispanic woman and her daughter, a girl maybe a year or so younger than his own 17-year-old daughter. The apartment was leased in Meagan's name but she had been subletting it to this woman since Meagan was 18. There was no record of Meagan owning an apartment in New York anymore either. It was like she didn't expect to come home from her missions and didn't want to have possessions.
He pulled every magazine and newspaper article he could find on her; and watched countless hours of news footage that had to do with the Army Rangers looking for anything that might have a glimpse of her It took him months to sift through the articles about her, making copies of everything as he found and putting it into a file to be read and re-read at home.
If there was known public record of her, he had it. Unfortunately, most of it was tripe…useless society page BS. Meagan seen at some gallery opening or fashion event with her mother or as her father's escort to some charity event or theatre opening. Those articles were clipped and put in a scrap book in chronological order.
Almost a year into reading through what he had accumulated he noticed something he hadn't before in a New York Times article he had read a hundred times. It was written shortly after her parents' death when the fate of Meagan Harris was front page news for weeks as the courts decided whether or not to cede to her parents wishes. Once the decision was made she was hounded by the press until she finally disappeared off the radar and they lost interest.
Rumor was that she was staying with her housekeeper, but that proved to be unfounded. Other rumors had her living at the Waldorf, but that institution would neither confirm nor deny her residency. He'd read all of these articles several times. He knew her parents' deaths had been a turning point in her life. He knew it was the key to everything buthow exactly, he wasn't sure. It was on his fifteenth read through the Times article that he noticed some curious wording by her reps.
"The landmark case concerning the heiress to the MacDunnaugh fortune, Meagan Emily Harris, has been settled. Meagan tragically lost her parents just six months ago to a drunk driver while on their way to pick up Miss Harris from a dance competition here in New York. Having no living relatives, the child prodigy is already a high school senior on track to graduate in December, Miss Harris is seeking emancipation at the request of her now deceased parents as outlined in their Last Will and Testament. The decision was made in a closed session this morning andMiss Harris was closed-lipped about the for the girl told us the courts "Came to the ruling we were looking for. Miss Harris is thrilled with the results."
"The question is, as sole heiress to such a large fortune, what does Miss Harris plan on doing with it now that it's under her complete control? She's on track to start university in September. She'll be attending her father's alma mater and taking business at Harvard University.
The article had one mistake in it that he knew of- Meagan did not have a degree in business. Her PhD was in Psychology. That wasn't what caught his attention though; her reps didn't definitively state that she'd been emancipated just that the courts had reached the decision she was looking for and the Times, as well as every other media outlet that covered the story, assumed she had been emancipated. What if that wasn't what she wanted? Her reps hadn't said anything about the courts abiding by her parents' last wishes, just that the girl had been thrilled by the ruling.
The picture accompanying the article had been republished several times in several papers and magazines. Her blonde hair was left long, she was wearing a pinstripe Chanel pantsuit and although she was 12 years of age, she didn't look like a little girl playing dress up. The suit fit her like it was made for her and it was entirely possible that it had been. What was arresting about the picture was the way her huge black eyes seemed to look through you. The look was one of profound sadness and relief and she was grasping onto a hand like it was a lifeline. As the picture was cropped to just show her, Tony had assumed the hand belonged to Ranger (he'd learned from Frakes during that ill fated mission that they had been friends since childhood) but he realized then that while whoever she was holding hands with wasn't Caucasian,the skin was too light to be Ranger. What he needed was to see the whole picture. If he remembered correctly, a Time Magazine article about her father's company had one.
He went through his stacks of research and found the article. It was a profile about CEOs of influential businesses. Naturally, MacDunnaugh was one of these businesses and they attempted to profile Meagan. With her rarely in the country, the article focused on her youth and her limited participation within the company. Besides learning that she kept herself up to date with MDI while she served and that the CEO title she held was honorary while someone filled in as interim for her, what interested him were the pictures. Specifically her on the courthouse steps. He was correct; the article did have a slightly grainy version of the picture. She was holding hands with a young man who, at the time, would have been too old to be Ranger. His features were difficult to make out but the resemblance was there. The caption on the photo said she was seen on the steps of the courthouse with a family friend after the ruling.
A few phone calls to the magazine and a few pulled strings later and he had a copy of the picture in his email. The email said, "Meagan Emily Harris with close family friend and then med student Julio Santos. He's currently living in Miami working as a trauma surgeon. Miss Harris is serving in the military, her whereabouts and rank are classified."
The young man's face was just as arresting as hers and it was a wonder that he had been cropped in the first place. Yes, he was unknown but had anyone bothered to look at the picture they would have asked who he was. The look on his face was one of determination, fear and love. His stance protective of the young girl clinging to him. Anyone who looked at this picture would know that Meagan Harris was no mere friend to Julio Santos, but how was she connected to him? That was the question. While an investigation into Meagan was revealing much about her past and almost nothing about her present, he had a feeling, given the man's strong resemblance to Ranger and the way Meagan clearly sought his protection, that Julio Santos might just be the breakthrough he was looking for. Especially since finding information about a trauma surgeon was going to be much simpler than finding intel on two black ops colonels.
Julio Santos had been an NYU student who transferred to Harvard part way through his first year of med school. Born in Miami, he had suspected gang affiliations with the Princes, the same gang that Ranger had belonged to, but no arrests. He was smoothed-tongued and apparently able to talk himself out of any trouble.
Notoriously promiscuous, he had suddenly settled down for several years while attending med school. A simple internet search showed that he was a newlywed living in Miami with his wife. Their wedding picture was in the paper and while his address was unlisted, the hospital he worked for wasn't. It was a simple matter to follow the young doctor home from the hospital one night. A few months of watching the house showed that Dr. Santos was rarely home, often working double shifts or sleeping at the hospital. The wife seemed to do little else beyond shop and work in the gardens of their Coral Gables home. They rarely entertained, though Mrs. Santos went out often, dressed to kill. After watching the home for months always waiting and hoping that Meagan would show up at the house, he decided to take a more aggressive approach-it was time to approach the Santoses.
He wore his uniform for the visit as he thought it would lend an air of authority for him. Mrs. Santos, a very pretty young woman in her mid twenties opened the door. She had wild red hair, brilliant green eyes and a phenomenal number of freckles and she would have been very attractive except that she was scowling.
"Christ, which one is dead?"
"I'm sorry?" He asked with surprise. For someone so sweet looking she certainly sounded cold.
"My husband is listed as next of kin for Meagan, Lester, Bobby, Tank and Ric. Which one bit it?"
"As far as I know, none of them, ma'am. I'm merely here wondering if Lt. Colonel Harris was visiting."
"Well, first of all, it's Colonel now. Second, she never comes here because she and I don't get along. Julio goes to her. He can always fucking find a few hours for her but not me. No, not his fucking wife. Finally, she and her boyfriend don't spend much time in Miami when they have leave. They have some secret hideaway they go to."
"Damn. I was on a mission with her a few years ago and I was hoping to reconnect. I don't suppose you have an address for her, do you? One where I might drop her a letter?"
She snorted disdainfully, "Yeah, sure. I'm also in close personal contact with the Easter Bunny. Listen, even if I did know where she lived, I wouldn't be stupid enough to give out her address just because some guy I've never met shows up at my door in an army uniform. Nice try, though, Captain. Visit my husband at the hospital; he knows how to contact her. If she wants to see you, then he will give out the information." With that, she slammed the door in his face.
So he went to the hospital to speak with the young doctor. He showed up, again in uniform, asking to speak to Dr. Santos. The nurse gasped, "Oh shit, which one?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Which one died?" she asked, "He'll be devastated no matter what you say. Just a minute. I'll clear the breakroom so you can speak to him privately. Oh shit! Oh no…" she looked like she was about to cry herself so he stopped her immediately.
"No, that's not necessary. I'm just looking for an old friend and he's listed as next of kin." The woman deflated with relief.
"OH! That's great! They are all great, a handful when all in the same room of course, but Julio is like a big brother to all of them. Well, he is a big brother to Lester, and they all just love Julio."
"So, they do come and visit then?"
"Oh, whenever they have leave." She smiled helpfully, "Just a second; he's not in surgery; I'll page him."
The young doctor came down the hall and paled slightly when he saw the uniform. The uniform was a bad idea. "Oh, it's okay Doctor Santos, he's just trying to find one of them. Meagan or Ric would be my guess," the nurse said.
He relaxed and smiled a blinding smile. "Hello, Julio Santos." He held out his hand and Beals took it in a firm handshake, "Which one are you looking for?"
"Colonel Harris."
"Ah yes. Sorry I can't tell you where she is. I can pass a message on if you'd like?"
"Oh no, that's okay, she just saved my life and disappeared before I could thank her."
"Yeah, they're like that;kind of like superman that way, but that's their job. I can tell her you dropped by."
"No, that's all right. If I may, Doc, you don't seem surprised to see me."
"Not hard to track down someone's next of kin, is it? That and it happens once every few months, though you're the first to come in Class A's."
There was a sudden flurry of activity and a nurse ran by. "Probably gonna call you, Doc; we got some kids on their way in with multiple GSWs." Julio waved at Beals and took off after the nurse. Afterward Beals left the hospital, feeling triumphant.
He knew she lived in Miami now and she had a secret hideaway that she went to with Ranger. So where was that? He knew Santos knew and he probably had it written down somewhere at home. It would be stupid of Beals to search the house the same day as he tried to get information on her from the Santoses so he decided to be patient. He waited three months and put those three months to good use. He moved his family to Miami since he wanted his family to meet the young colonels; and he couldn't arrange for that to happen if they were rarely in New York or New Jersey as he had first suspected.
He knew that if Linda saw people around her age who were so driven that it would have a positive influence on her. She would see that intelligence and coolness weren't mutually exclusive. That she could be driven and feminine at the same time.
The night he broke into the Santos home he knew they were going out. He'd been watching them for several months and knew their schedule probably better than they did. He'd heard Mrs. Santos remind Julio that they had a dinner party at her parents' house that night and that he shouldn't be late again. Beals was grateful he wasn't going to be at that dinner party. Before they left, they were having a massive argument or rather, she was screaming at Dr. Santos and he was ignoring her. The town car pulled up in front of their home and when the front door opened andJulio and his wife, Kathleen, walked out of the house together, neither of them looking very happy. Julio opened the car door for his wife and took her arm to help her in.
"What the fuck are you doing?" She snapped, yanking her arm away from him.
"Making sure you didn't snap a heel on the sidewalk, Darling; Lord knows I paid enough for them," he said with a charming smile that didn't reach sad and angry eyes. He slammed the door with more force than was necessary and then tapped on the roof of the car to signal that it was time to leave. The car pulled down the street and he grinned as he walked in the opposite direction. The town car slammed on the breaks and she jumped out of the car and screamed his name down the street. He flipped her off over his shoulder and hailed a cab. Because she was running in those expensive heels she didn't catch him and his cab took off before the door was completely closed.
She stomped her foot and screamed in frustration then went back into the house and came out wearing different shoes. She was carrying the ones she had been wearing earlier. Wearing a vindictive smile and looking in the direction of her husband's cab, she deliberately snapped the heel off of each shoe then dropped them on the front step. She stomped to the town car and, once inside, it drove off.
He broke in easily enough. Mrs. Santos hadn't locked the door behind her when she left; it hadn't even fully latched. A simple shove had been enough to get inside. The house was very tidy and looked like something out of Better Homes and Gardens. Every bit of the place decorated to within an inch of it's life, all except for the study.
The home office held a beat up desk that had seen slightly better days. It was clean but felt lived in. The furniture was comfortable and not perfect; the books on the shelves well-thumbed; a blanket, sheets and pillow were in the closet; and on the shelf there was a change of clothes, pajama pants and a shaving kit. The room held the hallmarks of an unhappy marriage. Dr. Santos spent a lot of time kicked out of his bedroom.
The desk, well, the desk was a revelation. Julio Santos was clearly a fan of pictures and they were everywhere. Ranger and another kid who looked just like him were the subjects of several of them. One in a place of prominence was the three of them fishing. The younger boys were probably four years old in the picture and clearly looked up to the 9 or 10-year-old Julio fishing with them. There were other pictures of Julio and the two smaller boys and then there were many pictures of Julio, Ranger, Meagan and another young man. The other young man had tattoos everywhere-gang tats from the looks of them. A girl with Meagan's background should have been terrified of him, but it was obvious in the pictures that was nowhere near the case. His favourite of Meagan and the tattooed boy was one of them sharing a blanket on the sofa that was currently in the study. Each of their heads were resting on opposite arms of the sofa, their knees bent and legs tangled together. She was reading a textbook with the titled "Intro to Neuropsychology" and he was engrossed in a book of Advanced Calculus. They looked comfortable together. Looking at the back of the photo which said, "Hector and Meagan in their pad, ages 16 and 13," He wondered 'Hector who?'
But the picture that caught his attention and wouldn't let go was of Ranger and Meagan. They were so very young; the expressions on their faces far too old for them. They looked so right together. It was a beautiful picture. He liked how it looked like they were drawing strength from one another. Her little hand in his seemed as supportive as the shoulder she was leaning on. Beals took the picture out of the frame and set it down. There was a scanner/copier on the desk so he'd make a copy before he left. His intention was that nobody would know he was in the house. He wanted to be able to come back.
There were more pictures on the window ledge. He could see from where he was standing that they were more recent, lots of desert camo, but he was meticulous, He would finish with the desk and file cabinet first and then make his way to the window. He opened the unlocked filing cabinet and found an entire drawer dedicated to the people who graced the pictures in Dr. Santos' office.
-Brown, Robert
-Harris, Meagan
-Hector
-Manoso, Carlos
-Santos, Lester
-Tank
He removed all of he files. Robert Brown, Sniper, Medic, Army Ranger… blah blah blah.
Hector's file was thicker than Brown's and he set it aside for later. He set aside Meagan's and Ranger's as well,
Santos, Lester
Address:
Mom and Dad's: Bay Harbour Islands… the bum needs his own place.
Phone: Again, doesn't have his own phone, call mom.
Medical information:
Disgustingly healthy. It's not right. Kid needs flaws.
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 200 lbs give or take
Eye color: Green
Hair: Black
Tattoos: One, Ranger Sniper Tat, v. cool, located on the back of his left shoulder.
Rank: Lt. Colonel, Army Rangers. Sniper, ranked top ten. Mom would be both proud and horrified if she knew.
The rest of the file contained his college transcript. It would seem that Miss Harris did not surround herself with dummies. 3.9 GPA and a degree in Psychology. He played the guitar, sang, had played Varsity Baseball and ran marathons. Spoke French, English and Spanish. He would stand out in any crowd on his own. It wasn't just the family connection that landed him in the unit with Meagan and Ranger; he'd have been put in the unit without it. Beals set the file aside and reached for the next one.
Tank AKA If I wrote it down anywhere the man would turn me into a smear on the pavement.
Address:
I swear to God Mom and Dad's. Sold his house, put his shit in storage, all his mail goes to mom. Get your own family dude.
Overall health:
Disgustingly healthy
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 300 lbs of muscle. The threat of becoming a smear for using his name is not Empty. He could do it.
Eye color: Brown
Hair: What hair?
Tattoos: nope
Rank: Master Sergeant, Army Rangers
Tank spoke French, Spanish and English and had a Business degree from Louisiana State. Went to school ROTC. Had family in Atlanta. There were more pages in the file. Contact information for his family, his transcripts etc.
Beals grabbed Meagan's file and held his breath. He didn't know what to expect. He was concerned that she would somehow fall short of his expectations. She didn't.
Name: Meagan Emily Harris
Address: Well mom would cry if it wasn't at her place so we'll give them that. Officially, she doesn't have one. She's house hunting. The day they actually choose a place is the day I dye my hair blonde.
Height: 5'0"
Weight: It had better be 115lbs but probably in the 100lbs range if they are someplace hot.
Eye color: Freaky assed black
Hair: White Blonde
Tattoos: Yes. And she won't tell me what or where.
Rank: Colonel. Couldn't be prouder. Army Ranger, Sniper top 20, PSYOPS Specialist, and a whole list of classified shit I'm not allowed to know about but I suspect is very cool.
Languages: English, Spanish, Latin, German, Russian, French, Italian, ASL, Dutch, Greek, several I don't even know the names of, Finnish, Arabic, Punjabi, Korean, Vietnamese, Tamil, Urdu, Persian, Polish… ahh fuck it. By the time I complete the list, she'll have learned ten more. Put it this way, if it's a spoken language, she probably speaks it. Fluently.
PhD Psychology her second PhD is classified. But I'm still very proud.
Overall Health:
Fair. Prone to anemia. Otherwise as disgustingly healthy as the rest provided she manages to not forget important things like eating. Still has trouble with her wrist even though she tries to hide it.
The folder held awards out the wazzoo. Dance, academic, martial arts, she was a heavily decorated military officer, but deep in the stack of accolades he found what he had been looking for. Adoption papers.
Julio Santos wasn't just her next of kin, as Beals suspected, he was her adoptive father. He felt the wind go out of him and he sat down heavily in the office chair. The rest of the file held all of the correspondence regarding the adoption process. She rejected emancipation. Why she chose an 19 year-old-boy as her father, he couldn't guess, but he knew the reason would be in the legal correspondence and he wanted to read it but there was just too much so he'd make copies of it all and read it at home.
He continued his search of the desk. There was a light flashing on Santos' answering machine that was begging to be pressed and he hit it. The message on the machine was from her. He'd never forget that slightly husky, musical speaking voice.
Hey, Dad, it's me. I'm alive. So's everyone else. Just didn't want you and Hec to worry. Obviously I'm alone right now 'cause I called you 'dad'. I wanted to make the call without the others around because you should know the last mission fucked with Les's head a bit. I'm on it but he might need his big brother. We should be getting leave soon. We all need it. We'll be at your mom's house. Oh, and I think we've found a condo. Would you please go and look at it? It's in Coconut Grove. Our agent is going to email you the details. Please buy it if you think it's right. We like the pictures, we agree on it, and it ticks absolutely every box on our list. Unbelievable, but true.
Please, please, please look at it soon. Okay, love ya. Not doing anything especially dangerous for the next month or so. No stress.
—-Beep—
Sorry got cut off. Les says "Hi."
—-Beep—
Primo, we're alive. We all need leave. Les is deep in his head, Meagan is on it. Between her and Bobby he should be almost normal before we inflict him on your parents. Oh, and the condo? Just buy it. If it sucks, I'm sure she'll sell it. I do NOT want to deal with her if she loses out on it.
-—Beep—
Hermano, we're alive. I am NOT in my head. Things just got a little fucked up and I thought my ticket was punched. Not even close. Forgot for a minute that I'm the shit but then I remembered and I turned out fine. Not a scratch. Where the fuck are you? Hospital said you had the night off. Don't tell me you are actually doing something, or dare I hope someone, fun?! Please tell me you've ended it with the queen bitch? She's not good for you, man. Anyways, gotta run. Oh, and the condo? Ric's right. Just buy the damn thing.
—Beep—
Yo, it's Tank. DO NOT just buy a $4 million dollar condo to shut her up. If you don't have time to see it, I know a guy who will look at it first. I will NOT let her buy something sight unseen. She'll be unbearable for weeks if she loses out, so act fast. Contact Vadrine if you need me to call my guy. Do not go all…them…on me… you're my fellow voice of reason…I can't believe I just said that. And Les IS in his head.
—Beep—
It's Bobby. We're alive, obviously, as I think I am the last to check in. Let my parents know. I may or may not visit them when we're stateside. Okay, so Les is in his head, Ric has a sprained wrist, Meagan is a bit sunburned but otherwise her chemistry is as normal as it gets. Tank got bit in the ass by some mystery insect and it's infected. He's currently sitting on a donut the size of an inner tube and we're teasing him pretty hard over it. And, I agree with Tank; don't by the condo without looking at it. I'll sedate her or something if I have to.
The machine clicked but the light kept flashing like the messages were new. Odd. He wondered just how old the messages were then. Beals was about to see if Santos left his computer as unsecured as the rest of everything in the office when he heard a voice coming from the front hallway and he froze.
"I'm telling you she just bought those shoes this morning. She modelled them for me and she can't have snapped both heels unless she did it on purpose…probably to piss Julio off. She should know that the only person who can get under his skin like that is his brother."
There was silence and no response. Whoever was speaking was talking on a cell phone, "Oh, she leaves the security system off to piss him off, too. It would serve the bitch right if someone did break in."
More silence then "No, it's all her. She knew what she was getting when she married him. He's always said he wanted to be a trauma surgeon. I mean, look at his family. He'd want to know all about the types of injuries they accumulate." She paused again and her voice changed, "That's weird. Listen, I gotta go. I think she went through his office again. No, she's allowed in there. She just doesn't go in there unless she's pissed at him. She deletes his voicemails from them just to stress him out. They all check in. No seriously, she'll keep the messages to herself for days if she's feeling hateful just to see him sweat…yeah, I'll talk to you later."
When he heard approaching footsteps, he sprang into action. Beals jumped out of the chair, knocking some papers to the floor in the process, and hid behind the door. "Oh, what the hell? She taking his pictures from him now? Bitch has got to go. Which one was it?" She stopped, "Why's she got these out." She started to collect the papers that were scattered on the desk and stopped herself. "No, if she's touching these, she's looking for something. I'm going to call him first." She reached for the phone and Beals reacted. He grabbed one of the golf clubs from the bag near the door while her back was turned and, after a slight hesitation, he hit her over the head with it.
The first blow was oddly satisfying. The second and third were a rush. It wasn't until the fifth hit that he realized what he was doing and he dropped the golf club. He trashed the office after that. He had to make it look like a break-in gone wrong.
He emptied the filing cabinet and tossed the papers everywhere. He grabbed the photo he'd removed from the frame as well as the top sheet from Ranger's file and shoved them into his pocket. Then he went through the house destroying things along the way and found the master bedroom. He found some cash and the jewelry box and shoved the money and the jewelry into his pocket and took off.
By the time he got back to his house he was shaking from the adrenaline, but felt extremely exhilarated. He now knew why they did what they did. It wasn't the first time he had taken a life but it was the most personal. Machine gun fire from a distance was easy as the body that fell was almost faceless. But this, this had been up close. She had tried to get up after the first blow and the second; but he'd put her down and it just felt so fucking good!
He had to join their team. He had to do what they did. He knew that they were forgiving of mistakes. They would be hypocrites if they weren't. He just needed to prove to them that he was as good as they were. Better even. He just had to find them to convince them of that.
Beals sat on the bed and sorted through the jewelry. It was no surprise that most of it was high quality. He couldn't sell it or throw it out. If he threw it out and someone found it, then the police would look more closely at the paperwork in the office to see what was missing and then probably alert Ranger.
If he pawned it he might get caught. The solution was easy, he had a wife and daughter so he had Christmas, birthdays and random special occasions covered for the next two years. He got up and took it all into the bathroom and tossed it into the sink with some warm water and some hand soap. He used a toothbrush to scrub the pieces and then set them out to dry on a towel on the counter.
Next, he drew himself a bath. He was covered in blood. Tomorrow he'd have to get rid of the clothes at the office since there was an incinerator he could dump them into that would neatly dispose of the evidence. Once the tub was full he lowered himself into the bath with the paper from Ranger's file. An address would be listed there and there was. One in Trenton. But he didn't get that far because a combination of the heat and the let down from the adrenaline put him to sleep and he dropped the sheet into the water before he read through the first few words on the page. When he woke with a start several minutes later, the ink had run on the paper so badly that he couldn't make anything out on it anymore. He tossed the soggy mess into the toilet and flushed it then scrubbed off any evidence from the break in from his body. He crammed his clothes into the bag from the trash can and went to bed, pissed that he hadn't been able to read about Ranger.
He hunted them for years. He found the condo complex in Coconut Grove and even saw her go into it once with a giant dog. Doctor Santos had moved out of the Coral Gables home shortly after the break-in and lived in the condo while she was away. His divorce had been filed not long after the break-in as well. The housekeeper had survived against all odds—an outcome that infuriated Beals for weeks. Fortunately, she couldn't remember anything and she hadn't seen his face.
He never saw Ranger go into the building once. He saw Lester go in as well as Brown, each of them taking a turn with the giant dog; but never Ranger. He found it strange. He did see them out together though. She went out with her boys a lot. Dancing. Lester and Julio had a flare for ballroom dancing and they partnered her the most. She and Lester had done a tango so hot he was sure Ranger was going to be furious and yet Ranger just looked on, amused by their antics. When the dance had finished, she had dropped into the booth beside him at the restaurant and he said, "People were staring. That skirt is almost indecently short."
"Almost." She'd replied cheekily, "But not quite."
"Too bad," Ranger smirked.
"HEY!" Lester shouted, "Enough of that!" Everyone at the table laughed. That night she'd been the only girl present, but she wasn't always. Sometimes the others had dates, but there were few repeats and he always lost them when they got into cabs to go home. He was sure that was by design. Not because they thought he was following them, but because they were paranoid and were trying to stop anyone else from following them. Indeed had he not heard the messages in Julio's office he never would have figured out where they lived. He never saw them ship out either. One day they would be coming and going from the condo with regularity and the next Julio would again be walking the giant dog alone. Months would go by and he wouldn't see them at the condo or at the Santos home. Then one day Lester would be out running at his parents home or Meagan would be seen walking the dog.
Then it all fell apart. She was killed. They all took it hard. Everyone stopped showing up at the Miami condo. They all disappeared off of the map after her funeral. Lester and Ranger stopped going to the Santos home, only Julio showed up. Ranger rarely went to Miami at least as far as Beals was aware. He lost the trail. Ranger, he knew, ended up in New Jersey because of the incident with his daughter where he had almost been killed by a wannabe. An amateur. That's when Beals found out that the unit had more or less been disbanded, that joining wasn't an option anymore. Ranger was a bounty hunter now of all things. Tony couldn't have been more pissed. She was the glue that held them together and they had let her get killed.
Then Beals began to believe in miracles when Christmas, a year ago, a picture showed up on the news. Meagan and Lester were dancing and Lester had Meagan in a low dip. She was dressed in some Christmassy affair that looked like it should have been from some old musical. The picture was as hot as the tango had been.
The newscaster made a mistake saying the picture had come from a double wedding reception and that Lester was dancing with his new wife. Given the way Meagan and Lester danced together, it wasn't hard to see why they would mistake Lester for her groom. The piece had gone on to talk about the young colonel and her miraculous recovery from several gun shot wounds obtained while working undercover for the FBI. They mentioned that she had left the FBI and was now part owner of Rangeman Securities with Carlos Manoso.
That's what brought the Beals family to New Jersey. The day he'd called for the consultation at the houses, he'd been hoping to see them together. He wanted to see if their connection was still strong. He'd been disappointed when they'd split up. What pissed him off more was that she didn't recognize him. Not even a flicker of recognition. Not that he could blame her really. He'd been wearing aviator sunglasses and a helmet with a micthat obscured his face when she saw him the first and only time. It still stung though. That was okay. She'd remember him. They both would.
He'd planned their kidnapping for months,right down to the last detail then he sat back at his place in New Jersey and watched them escape. They were so good. So calm. So cool. The room in the basement, the shrine, he set it up for them to find for them to know how thoroughly he'd hunted them. It didn't even seem to spook them. Plus they were more ruthless than he thought they would have been. They didn't just incapacitate the guards; they killed them. Hell she cut off a thumb and picked over the body like a vulture not once seeming distressed by the actions. It was just a job that needed to be done.
Now she was here with the FBI tossing the house; looking for evidence. There wasn't any evidence from the kidnapping; this was a hail Mary on her part. She'd made a mistake though. Meagan was a leader and she was intelligent, but she trusted her subordinates too easily and before confining him in his office for the search, she had some nameless, useless, agent, clear the room.
