Chapter 5
Chapter 5
J ones stalked back to his office, ripped aside his chair, and began typing a missive.
LT, what is up with the spooks of the world being universally horrible? (Present company and wife excluded, of course.) I ID’d the one down here, and loathing doesn’t begin to describe. SO MUCH HATE!! SO MUCH! Send best advice in dealing before I commit murder.
He fired off the email and felt immediate regret, especially when his former commander took more than a minute to answer. There was a time difference in DC, but that wasn’t why Cameron Ridge didn’t instantly reply. Jones took a breath and felt the pause for what it was: censure. Jones’s emotions had always been too close to the surface, much closer than any of his stoic teammates. The rest of them had been able to carry off difficult missions and keep their hearts intact. Jones had always been the one to blubber if an innocent got in the way. One time his eyes teared up because he accidentally mashed a toad with his diving gear. His teammates called him Kermit for half a year. It had always been Cameron Ridge’s job as his commander to keep him in line, and now he did it as a friend, the surrogate big brother Jones had always longed for. Today was no exception.
You okay, Jonesie? Ridge finally replied.
Jones took a breath and held it. Was he okay? For the last year he had avoided asking himself that question because of course he was okay. He was heading up security at an elite resort in tropical paradise. How could he be anything but okay? But with Ridge’s question came the introspection he’d been avoiding: maybe he wasn’t okay. Maybe he was lonely and bored. Maybe he missed the action of the SEALs. Maybe he missed his family and friends and everything familiar in his home country. Maybe he wanted more than he currently had. Maybe he hated his life.
Fine. Just, you know, spooks, Jones replied.
Spooks get it from both sides these days, lots of pressure. Give ‘em a break and try a different approach. If things get too bad, send me a word and I’ll see what I can do.
Ridge was pretty high up, as far as spooks went. A senior spy in an elite squad, he had the ear of The Colonel, the highest of the high in their world. Jones imagined Gum Girl getting called back and reamed on his say so and felt a combination of elation and shame. On the one hand, it would feel good to wield that little bit of influence he still held on to. Ridge owed him for a few things. On the other hand, how pathetic was he that he was attempting to use that influence on a girl whose only crime so far had been to criticize fruit and freckles too harshly?
Nah, you know me. Blowing off steam. I’m sure I’ll warm up.
I’m sure you will, Ridge agreed and, though Jones couldn’t hear his heartening tone, he smiled, reassured as always. Take care down there. It’s about to come to a boil, if the rumors are true.
Thanks. My love to Maggie, et.al.
Ridge didn’t reply, but Jones didn’t expect him to. He had always been far more comfortable doling advice than words of endearment. Those were left for Jones, who had no trouble telling the people in his life how much he loved them. He was a people person, good with handling emotion, unlike most soldiers and sailors he knew. With that thought in mind he took another breath. Time to deal with the spook, Jones style. He was certain that, if he applied himself, he could charm her into a better mood. Failing that, he was fairly certain he could take her in hand-to-hand and hide the body so no one would find it.
Smiling at the thought of getting rid of Gum Girl, he went to find a melon.