“Good, I’ll return to my seat. Good to meet you, Nõnkos Zia. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.” And then as an afterthought, both joking and serious, he smiled and said, “Try not to stab me then, OK? Oh, and how the hell did you get through security with that vest on under your shirt? I thought the TSA was paying closer attention these days.”

  Nõn skillfully dodged the question and smiled. “Nick, you are not pronouncing my name correctly. It is pronounced ‘Nyen’, like the Japanese Yen, except the ‘y’ is soft.”

  Smiling, he said, “Cool, I like that, Nõn.”

  He returned to his seat and looked out the window at Moses Lake Washington. Never thought I’d return to “Moses Hole”, he thought to himself. It’s changed. More shops, streets, businesses, but still “the Hole” is still a hole.

  Departing the bus, they were met by a shuttle/cab whose driver leaned against the 18-passenger Chevy van and held up a sign with two names written on it, Nõnkos Zia and Nick Hudson. They each walked up to the cab and introduced themselves; Nõn went first, and Nick followed a few moments later. They each loaded their own luggage into the van and got in, sitting several seats apart.

  The driver asked the usual questions: “First time in Moses Lake? Traveling for business, or pleasure?”

  Nõn was surprised when Nick admitted to being in Moses Lake many years ago, but she made sure she let nothing show. She listened while he detailed the story of the military deployment in the 80s and understood intuitively he was talking so she wouldn’t have to. He was sharing his history more for her benefit than the driver’s, while pretending to ignore her. She thought to herself, Very tactical and careful, this one. I will need to pay special attention to what he does; seems every comment and movement have multiple meanings and layers.

  The trip was short. A few minutes later, they were unloading their luggage and walking inside the building where they would be staying until they left on the mission. Once inside, Nick went to the front desk first and began to check in. Talking to the clerk, he again started to communicate in layers.

  “Wow, you guys sure have a lot of cameras here. Theft a problem? I mean, do I need to watch myself in this sleepy little town?”

  She hadn’t noticed the cameras, but now she was aware of them. They were everywhere, watching everything. Why?

  The clerk said no, theft wasn’t a problem, but they were a requirement for insurance purposes. Security systems kept the insurance rates down for the management.

  Nick countered, “Insurance? Really? OK. Well, good to meet you, William. It is William, right? I mean, that’s what your nametag says.”

  “Yes, sir. William.”

  “Call me Nick, William.”

  “Enjoy your stay, Nick,” William said with a smile, but he wasn’t smiling, not really.

  Nick left the desk, and Nõn stepped up to the desk and proceeded to check in, now aware of the cameras and the passive-aggressive clerk.

  Walking down the hallway on the main floor, Nõn was grateful to be staying in a room by herself. Not that she expected to be staying with anyone else; she just liked having the privacy of having the room to herself. Fewer questions that way. She began to unpack her clothes and connect her computer to the free wi-fi provided by the manager. Thinking for a moment, she stopped and disconnected the computer from the wi-fi system. Better to hotspot with her phone; Nick’s observation of what was obvious, and yet not so obvious, was starting to change her mind set. Better to be safe than sorry. Once the computer was connected to the web, she typed in “Nick Hudson” in the search window and started to research her partner in crime.

  Two hours later, she hadn’t learned much. Nick had been married and divorced more times than most men. A few articles about shootings, court cases, and medals awarded. One very old article about some kind of military team. Seems Nick had a passion for fitness, or perhaps working out was a method to channel his obvious excess of energy. Something kept those marriages from working, either bad choices or the attraction to the wrong kind of people. Either way, both hinted at deeper conflicts.

  She closed the laptop and was immediately startled by a double knock at the door. She got up quick and looked out the peephole. Nick was walking slowly down the hallway, dressed in running clothes. A quick knock to let her know he knew where she was and that he’d be going to scout out the area, under the ruse of going for a run. Amazing how quickly she understood his subtle messages, or did she?

  Nick needed to get out, run, move, do something. Movement was survival in his world. That was a lesson he’d learned very early. Keep moving. Running was an easy outlet. He knocked on her door to let her know he was going out and would be back. Just in case. No idea if she’d understand what that knock meant, but best to C.Y.A. They were in this now, all in.

  Jay was looking out the second story window as Nick went out for a run.

  The clerk had called to let him know the last two members of the team had arrived. The clerk had no idea they were part of the team, only that the guy in room 215 had asked to be called when they arrived. Jay thanked the clerk and asked if he’d noticed anything unusual about their arrival. Anything at all?

  The clerk thought about it and said, “No, just some weird chit chat with the guy, something about cameras, and theft in the building. The woman said nothing at all, but seemed polite.”

  Jay thanked him. Hanging up, he thought, Once a cop, always a cop. Jesus, when does this guy ever shut down? One thousand miles from home, and this idiot is concerned about theft?

  A few miles later, Nick returned. The run felt good, a quick shower and maybe get something to eat, then sleep. Same basic routine he’d adhered to the last time he was at “the Hole.” Walking down the hallway, he returned to the room. Opening the door, he saw an envelope on the floor; apparently, it had been slid under the door.

  The phone rang.

  “Nick, it’s Jay. How was the run?”

  “Good, how are you?”

  “Good, just calling to let you know we’ll meet for breakfast in the lobby in the morning and I’ll answer any questions you have then. Is there anything you need now?”

  “Nope, just gonna go get some food after a shower. Any recommendations on local restaurants?”

  “Hmm, I’ve been told the Porterhouse Steakhouse is good. Pricey, but good.”

  “Thanks, I’ll check it out.”

  “See you in the morning, then.”

  “What time again?”

  “0730 hours. Sharp.”

  “Cool, see you then.”

  Opening the envelope, Nick wondered who it was from. The contents quickly made that clear. A note said, “Hotspot your Internet and e-mail me at this address. Nõn.”

  Through a series of e-mails, Nick and Nõn determined she’d been invited to lunch the next day, while he’d been invited to breakfast. Apparently, neither was supposed to be aware of the other, and Jay was making every effort to keep them separated as long as he could.

  Nick and Jay met in the lobby the next morning at 0730. Nick arrived 30 minutes early to be sure he would miss nothing. However, there was nothing to miss; Jay arrived at 0730, right on time (late to the standard Nick lived by). They shook hands and walked out to the car Jay had rented for the remainder of the week. Jay made a point out of taking Nick on a tour of Moses Lake, detailing the local history, unaware Nick had been temporarily stationed in “The Hole” in the early 80s. Nick let him talk, noting that any knowledge he claimed to have had of “The Hole” was able to be obtained on a quick search of the Internet and Wikipedia. Jay needed to be in control, or at least feel in control of everything and everyone; it would be an easy trait to manipulate. Take away his control, and his ass would pucker so hard it would suck the fabric off the rental car’s bucket seats.

  They arrived about forty-five minutes later at Shari’s Restaurant and Pies. Jay ordered coffee and a steak and eggs breakfast with toast, making sure the waitress understood he wanted the toast to be browned, not black, and the coffee to be extra hot. Also, he wanted the eggs over medium, not over easy, and the yolks could not be broken. Nick watched with amusement while the waitress took down the notes, barely concealing her annoyance.

  Nick ordered decaf coffee and one hardboiled egg, and as an afterthought he asked for water, extra cold, and smiled at the waitress. An obvious poke at the anal retentive control freak that sat across the table from him.

  The waitress laughed and replied, “One extra cold water, coming up.” Jay was not amused but said nothing. Nick smiled, watching Jay’s obvious discomfort with being made fun of and thought to himself this is a good place for him to be in, always ducking and bobbing verbal jabs, never comfortable.

  Finally the food arrived, and Jay checked the order. He sent back the coffee because it wasn’t hot enough and found the rest of the meal to be barely adequate. Jay was the kind of customer who rarely tipped. Being a prick to strangers was just who he was; he rarely had to work at it. It was a skill that came naturally, and he embraced it fully.

  Nick had finished his egg and was sipping the decaf coffee when Jay finally started his breakfast after having sent one of the eggs back for being cooked too much. The waitress would be earning her minimum wage today. Silently, Nick wondered how many times Jay ended up eating food that contained spit, snot, or urine just because he was such an asshole to the wait staff. The idea made Nick smile and let out a little chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, just a thought that came into my head. So anyway, when do I meet the tactical team?”

  Jay put down his fork and knife and started the peculiar room scanning and carefully measured cadence of speech Nick had observed in The Mashhouse on their first meeting.

  “Ahh, well Nick, I hadn’t planned on you meeting the tactical team until take-off. That was the intended point of you being uninitiated and having an outsider’s point of view. Remember ‘the wild card’? That’s why you’re here.”

  Nick watched the constantly scanning eyes and listened to the carefully managed rhetoric flowing out of Jay’s mouth.

  “Well, then we have a problem, because there’s no way I’m going on a mission with a team I don’t know, and who doesn’t know me. We at the very least have a meet and greet, or you, my friend, can find yourself another wild card. Period, non-negotiable. Make it happen, or I’m on the next bus to Spokane. Besides, you said at the beginning of our talks about this mission that the team leader would have to approve me. Did something change?”

  Jay said nothing, but his face suddenly went the color of a 2-day-old baby who was screaming its lungs out. Nick wondered, Is he screaming inside right now, silently? Definitely! Yes, the two-day-old baby deep inside of Jay is in an ear-splitting fury.

  Finally, after several minutes Jay spoke. “I’ll see what I can do. I cannot guarantee anything. The team is a tight knit group, they don’t like untrained outsiders. And that’s your role, to be an outsider. But since you’re so insistent, I’ll talk to them.”

  “Thanks, Jay, I appreciate it. So is there anyone else going on our little camping trip I need to know about?”

  It was a test to see how much Jay was really hiding. If he mentioned Nõn, then Nick could reasonably believe there were no other hidden agendas. If he didn’t, then it was abundantly clear Jay was a manipulative dick and not to be trusted.

  Jay replied innocently, “Ahh, no, no one else on the mission. Just you and the tactical team, and one or two support staff, like myself.”

  Nick smiled, thinking, You lying prick! He replied, “OK, well, then I guess I’ll only need to meet the tactical team, then.”

  Breakfast was finally over, and they drove in silence back to the billeting office. Jay’s tight-lipped and barely controlled facial twitches maintained the beet red color the entire way back to the building. Nick pretended to be unaware of Jay’s outrage at his lack of respect. Nick smiled as he looked out the window at the bleak surroundings of “The Hole”. Perhaps just like a two-day-old baby, Jay just needed to take a huge dump and he’d feel better.

  When they arrived at the building, Jay told Nick he would be in shortly while he called to make preparations for the meeting he’d requested. Nick nodded and walked on alone.

  “Talk to you later, Jay.”

  “Yes, we’ll talk later.”

  Walking in the building, Nick saw there was a continental breakfast buffet set up in the foyer and Nõn was seated there eating, alone. He looked at her briefly and continued on to his room. They would message later, and he would update her on the mental chess game of his breakfast discussion with Jay.

  Two hours later, there was a knock at Nick’s door. Looking out the peephole, he saw it was Jay, his face still baby rage red. Nick giggled a moment and then gained control of himself and opened the door with a straight face.

  “Hey man, what’s up?”

  “Come with me, we’re going to meet the team.”

  Nick grabbed a jacket and walked silently behind Jay to the car.

  Five minutes later, they arrived at a sheet metal building that had been an aircraft hangar; now it was abandoned and apparently housed the tactical team. Walking in, he overheard bits and pieces of a conversation echo through the massive hangar.

  “I’m serious. On my last mission in the sandbox, we had a reporter who was embedded with our unit, that bitch couldn’t suck your cock enough…”

  “You can see she…she’s a veteran of many gang…”

  Then laughter from several voices. Jay called out in a commanding and authoritative voice as they entered the only interior office in the hangar.

  “Attent huuuh.” The team immediately snapped up to the military stiff standing posture of attention. The room was instantly silent.

  “At ease,” Jay announced with less enthusiasm. “Gentlemen, as I discussed with you earlier, this is your one and only face to face with the outside member of your team, Nick Hudson. Nick, this is the team you will be working with. Take whatever time you feel necessary to get acquainted.”

  Jay turned and left the group of seven men to their conversation.

  The team leader introduced himself with a hard handshake that he held too long, glaring into Nick’s eyes.

  “Rooney, team leader, and this is my team, Fossum, Garcia, Green, Rohlk, and my second in command, Johnson.”

  The men looked at Nick with an unfriendly, challenging gaze, looking him up and down, some smirking.

  Rooney asked, “May I ask what exactly are your qualifications to be on my team, Nick?”

  Nick held Johnson’s gaze; he appeared to be the least open to the idea of Nick being on the mission, based on his body language and attitude. Might as well get this show on the road, Nick thought as he walked slowly towards Johnson.

  “Sure, you may ask,” Nick replied but provided no details, walking directly up to Johnson, purposefully entering his space until the two men’s noses nearly touched. No one said a word as Nick and Johnson glared at each other. A minute passed, and no one moved, the tension in the air was unmistakable. The team was not used to this kind of disrespect. Finally, Nick felt he’d made his point and broke eye contact.

  “My experience? Two tactical teams in the civilian world, entry teams on both. Expert marksman, and 30 years of urban warfare. I worked alone, Rooney, never with the security blanket of a team. Never had the luxury of a backup that could hold his own in a real firefight.”

  Rooney smiled and replied, “And when was this urban warfare? The year Seventeen Seventy-Six? You and General George Washington cross the Potomac River holding hands and rubbing each other’s dicks?”

  The team laughed heartily. Nick didn’t reply.

  Rooney said, “Look, Nick, I’m sure you, Jack Lalanne and Richard Simmons had a great time making workout tapes and licking each other’s balls on the side. In your day, I’m sure you probably popped a nut or two in some waitress’ ass and called that combat. But let’s just be clear, we don’t want you on this mission. I don’t want you on this mission. I personally think you’re a danger to my team, and if you do anything but stay the fuck out of me and my team’s way, I’ll kill you. We clear? I don’t care about whose cock you sucked in a foxhole during the Tet offensive in sixty-eight. Stay the fuck out of our way, and you might get to go back home to your rocker and television remote and pretend you’re still in the fight. Still relevant.”

  Nick said nothing, showing no emotion, no reaction to the threat. He and Rooney stared at each other and said nothing for several moments. Finally, Nick said, “It’s been good to meet you G.I. Joe wannabe motherfuckers. Hope you can back up the ‘death from above’ bullshit with something more than talk.” He turned quickly and walked away.

  Multiple “Fuck yous” erupted from the group, and then “Ya, that’s right, keep walking, old man, right back to your nursing home and your piss-soaked Depends.”

  Nick smiled. Mission accomplished, the setup was perfect. The gauntlet had been thrown down, the challenge accepted.

  Walking meekly outside, he looked up at Jay. Raising his eyebrows, he said, “That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Perhaps you were right, this was a bad idea.”

  Relieved, Jay said, “I tried to tell you, perhaps now maybe you’ll accept I do know what I’m doing?”

  “Ya, sorry man, thanks for humoring me.”

  Jay returned them to the billeting office, and they went their separate ways.

  Once he was back in his room and the door was locked, he checked to make sure no one had been inside. He’d set up his smartphone on record mode when he’d left, the smartphone’s rear facing camera pointed at the doorway.

  Checking the phone, he saw that no one had entered the room. Deleting the video files, he checked his e-mail. There was one message from Nõn.

  “Nick, I had an interesting lunch with Jay, he was very quiet and obviously angry about something. Food was terrible, and the man is an absolute tyrant to the wait staff. Who knew anyone could be so picky about the temperature of his coffee? Regardless, I met the team we’ll be working with in an abandoned hangar. They are what I expected, but not what I had hoped for. This is only about money for them. Money only! One of them mentioned that he would be willing to accept a blowjob for his personal protection during the mission. The others laughed. I guess there is something called a ‘desert princess’? I explained I was not interested in his genitalia and that the only reason I was here was to document their mission. Not to be the team’s sexual playmate. Someone mentioned the term ‘Camp meat?’ Not sure what that means exactly, but in the context it was said, I assume it is sexual in nature. Anyway, I am not impressed by this ‘team’ we are going with. The only difference between them and the people they are going to hunt is who pays them. Just my opinion. Jay will be taking me into the town later. I need to go to the post office to pick up a package I mailed to myself before I left. Jay is picking me up at 2:30. Nõn.”

 

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