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“And I’ll see you in the morning. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“I think it is. But I have some decisions to make. I thought maybe you could help me with some of them.”
“Okay, Man, see you later on. Safe travels.”
With his back to windows overlooking the tarmac, in a corner where he could view the whole lounge easily and no one could sneak up behind him, he very gingerly opened the large portfolio book, tabbed and three-hole punched, scanned through the different topics, and found the list of names.
At the top of the list was Kyle Lansdowne’s name. Right beneath it was Hamish’s. He scanned the rest of the names and saw a few he recognized, some of the older guys from SEAL Team 3 and SEAL Team 5, a couple from Teams on the East Coast. He didn’t recognize any of the CIA assets or State Department special agents. None of the bureaucrats either. It was a list that was quite long, which surprised him.
He slowly closed the notebook, tucking it into his computer case. Stowing the case in the leather lounge chair he was sitting in, with the duffel bag at his feet, he leaned back, closed his eyes, and found himself back in Africa. That day had been a hard trek in the jungle sun. He’d waited all afternoon in a treetop that held two huge ant colonies dangling down over three feet from a nearby branch. Harper had been very careful to pinch those little buggers off his flesh before he could get bitten, but it was getting annoying, and he was getting sleepy. If he fell asleep, he’d either fall out of the tree or get eaten alive by insects. So he waited. He pinched bugs and told a couple of jokes over the coms to Fredo and Armando.
And finally, when his patience was near at the end, he heard over the coms that a Jeep was arriving and that Okubo was in it.
The six snipers who waited for his group were some of the best on SEAL Team 3. Harper had requested they allow him to take out Okubo. It was over in a matter of thirty seconds after they appeared in the clearing. Since there weren’t any hostages located, they began firing immediately. Okubo had been spared the rest of the Team’s rounds until Harper got a bead on him, inhaled, deliberately exhaled, and then pressed the hair trigger. He followed the trajectory in slow motion, although it took no more than a second to reach the middle of his forehead. The man’s skull exploded into pieces all over the rest of the bodies in the sluggishly self-driving Jeep with a dead driver at the wheel.
He slipped his rifle to the side and examined the scene one more time. Then he checked it with his scope and confirmed that Okubo was indeed dead.
“He’s done. Let’s go home, Gents,” he said into his Invisio.
Armando congratulated him on his perfect shot. “I hope you feel better, Harper. Glad this guy is off the face of the Earth.”
“Yeah, we took care of business, Armando.”
But inside, Harper had wondered why he didn’t feel any better.
Chapter 8
Harper pulled upto Hamish’s house in a taxi, running around to the backside of the cozy house, and let himself in, locking the door behind him. He brought his duffel and briefcase into the living room, placing them next to the couch that was piled with clean pillows and a stack of fuzzy blankets. Slipping off his shoes, he next removed his sport coat, placed it over the back of a chair, tiptoed in his stocking feet to the kitchen, got himself a tall glass of water, and then quietly made it just in time to the guest bathroom for a long pee.
He returned to the living room and stripped off his button-down long-sleeved shirt, leaving his t-shirt on. Next, he removed his slacks and gently placed them over the back of another chair. At last, he tucked himself into the soft blankets on the couch quite comfortably. And as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.
Way too early in the morning, he heard conversations, and then he smelled bacon, followed by hearing a couple of girls giggling close by. Opening one eye at a time, he watched three cute little preteens, all three sporting braces, sitting cross-legged on the floor about ten feet away from him. Sasha, Hamish’s youngest daughter, was right in the middle between her two friends.
“Hello, Uncle Harper,” she said with coyness.
“Sasha! How long have you guys been down here?”
“Oh, about ten minutes, Uncle Harper. Why didn’t you come earlier?”
“Well, that’s what airplanes do. They have their own schedule. They put me on pretty late, so I got in past midnight. Did you hear me?”
She shook her head.
“Better to get in late than have to spend another day in the airport, right?”
She grinned, showing off her colored wire braces. They had rainbow colors done up in a unique and quite artful design.
“Is your dad still in bed upstairs?” he asked Sasha.
“I guess so. Do you want me to go check?”
“No, no, no, let’s just let them sleep. Any chance I might be able to get a little more rest?”
“Oh, come on, Uncle Harper. We’ve got a soccer game today. Wouldn’t you like to come watch us play?”
Harper knew Sasha had a huge girl crush on him, and he’d discussed it with Hamish, who didn’t seem to mind, but he still warned Harper not to lead her on and break her heart—or his buddy would adjust his spine really good.
Ever since that discussion, Harper gently reminded Sasha she was way too young for him, but she still laughed it off every time he told her. “Now, if you were my age, I’d be very interested.”
