But there it was. The $50,000 sat all fat, chubby, and round in his bank account. He could hardly believe the numbers sprawled on his computer screen. He had never had that much money at one time, even when he got his signing bonus the last time he reupped onto SEAL Team 5.
Just to be sure, Brady called the bank and asked how much cash was available. The nice young teller pertly answered him back that it all was available since it had been a direct transfer from another account at the same bank.
“You mean they bank at the same bank that I do, here, in Healdsburg?”
“No, Mr. Rogers, I didn’t mean to imply that. They bank with Four Seasons, just like you do, but I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you where the account was opened. Most importantly, they have an account with us. Therefore, it was just an electronic transfer.”
He was going to say something smart but decided against it, mumbling to himself. The teller asked him to repeat what he just unintelligibly spoke, and he hung up.
What was it about being alive currently in the history of the world, all this electronic shit, all this bank electronic crap, all this efficiency, anonymity, danger, and whatever all the rest of it was?
Did I just sign up for some horrible terrible mission—a mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life?
He hoped the answer to that was no, but after all, he was a Navy SEAL by profession, at least he used to be. After twenty years working hard on the Teams, retiring as a Master Chief, he’d seen pretty much everything there was to see, until now. The world was a strange place. Made stranger each day. This mission was going to be no exception.
So the money was real, even though the people he was working for were not. Was it really any different than working for the government? Maybe they were the government. Maybe they were the same goddamn bureaucrats and head slammers he used to do dangerous things for, except now they just didn’t want to show their faces or let him know who they were. Now he was going to possibly risk his life for some entity he didn’t know much about. But when it came right down to it, he didn’t know much about his own government anyway. He had never had a problem before doing it. This was the same thing.
Or was it?
Since the money was real, it was time for him to get real too. There was no way in hell he’d be able to go after Esquivel, not with his cadre of bandidos around him. He didn’t want to be gunned down in a firefight with the man, who would literally dance a jig on his grave. That wouldn’t be a very smart way to operate. Besides the goal was to get his satisfaction and seek his revenge for the death of Maggie. The hardest part, of course, was going to be delivering him alive to whoever the hell this woman worked for.
So it was time to give his old buddy Riley, the best gadget guy he ever worked with on Team 5, a call.
Riley had given him his address, but now Brady wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it. He scrolled through his phone, and sure enough, he did still have the guy’s number. He prayed it was still the same.
“Bones!”
“That’s right, it’s me. I know. Don’t tell me. I told you I’d never call you again. I meant it then, but I got something I’m working on now. And I need to talk to you in person.”
“Well, today’s not a good day, Brady. We got stuff going on here at the house.”
A toddler screamed in the background. He wasn’t very versed in such things. As a matter of fact, he made sure he stayed as far away from kids, women, and especially babies as possible. Dogs? Well, that was something else.
He knew he was going to have to go travel to wherever Riley was, and he hoped to God the man didn’t have cats. Brady was allergic to them, and it wasn’t very manly to be having an asthma attack when you’re a big guy, a former team guy like Brady was.
“So where the hell are you living? And that rug rat in the background, is that yours?”
“Better be. I think so. You haven’t met my better half.”
“Nope. I never was that kind of guy, Riley. You know that. I don’t send cards, and I don’t call on birthdays. Why the hell would I keep track of all my former buds, their wives, and their kids. Now dogs? I might keep track of your dog.”
“Red died about four years ago. Remember that little female? Don’t got a dog anymore. But I got two kids and another one on the way.”
“Holy crap. You are a fertile motherfucker.”
“No, she’s the fertile one. I’m just the sperm donor, you know how it is.”
Brady did.
“Casey’s a nice girl. You’ll like her. But you got to keep your hands off.”
“That’s alright, Riley. I’ve been healed. No more women for me. I just got Tate, my Doberman.”
“Well, if you’re still in Healdsburg, then we’re only about an hour away. I’m up in Clearlake now, got a little piece of heaven. It’s real quiet. We go out paddle boarding on the lake. It’s a nice place to raise a family. You should try it sometime.” Riley was funny with the jokes, but in-person, Brady would threaten to give him a punch on the chin.
“I’ll be up in about two and a half hours. I’m going to bring my dog. I hope that’s okay.”
“I’ll text you the address; you can do a GPS on it. But Tate’s got to stay in the car. We got cats.”
Shit.
Riley’s place was a typical lakeside cabin, added onto, probably as his family expanded, with tall pine trees to give the front and backyard good shade. He had a long dock extending from the back part of the property with two small rowboats tied off—one on the right and one on the left. From a couple of the trees, Riley had swung a hammock, family-sized, and it didn’t take much imagination for Brady to see the scene of him, his wife, and their two kids all wrapped up in it. If Riley was still as active as he used to be, Brady bet there were some interesting moves the man would make. He’d probably got dumped a few times by the hammock until he got the hang of it.
It brought a smile to Brady’s mouth. The first one in a while.
Chickens ran all over the place, chased by one nasty rooster who flattened the hens as he was mounting them, sending their beaks and necks to the dirt or sometimes the mud. As he walked with his buddy down toward the dock, the scrawny rooster headed right for Brady, who immediately knew what to do. He kicked the critter about ten feet into the air. The rooster landed on his feet, shook his head, and then found another hen to run after.
There was only one thing he hated more than cats. It was roosters, especially mean roosters.
Riley was still laughing when they sat down on a couple of Adirondack chairs with a small oak stump between them. His lady brought out a couple tall lemonades.
“You want something stronger, Brady?” she asked sweetly.
“No, it’s the middle of the day, and I got to drive home. I need a DUI like a hole in the head.”
“Suit yourself,” she said as she sauntered back into the house. Her belly gave her hips an extra sway. Brady watched her and then noticed Riley was watching him.
“She’s kind of nice, isn’t she?” Riley whispered.
“She’s fine. A regular baby maker.”
“That she is. But babies make her happy, and I never had any until I met her so we just kind of go with the flow here. A couple extra mouths to feed, it’s no big deal. I go hunting once a year, and we freeze most of it. We can fish a little bit in the lake. She’s got a nice garden over there. You like a garden too. I heard you were doing some things like that. Little bit of green stuff, huh? Making some money at it?”