Brodie spent the next three days going through his small arsenal of weapons, sorting and checking ammunition supplies and generally getting prepared for the journey back to San Miguel Island, a journey he had never thought he would be taking again.
Tara watched him as she went about her own task of finalizing the medical supplies and organizing her team. She had kept pretty quiet about who she was taking with her, and Brodie was often left to his own devices in the afternoon as she disappeared down to the large warehouse Cunningham had hired to house the assault team and its equipment. But when she was home, she quietly made sure Brodie was all right.
He was scared to death. Underneath that tough exterior Brodie was slowly but surely going to pieces, and it was at its worst at night. The nightmares were getting harder and harder to deal with, although Tara’s presence helped considerably, and she would frequently hold him tight, soothing him with quiet words as he coped with the aftermath of visions of blood and torn corpses. The closeness of her body aroused him, and he would make love to her with a wounded desperation that left her gasping with pleasure. But she was worried for him even as she felt him thrust passionately into her depths, hearing him cry out as he spent himself utterly. Afterwards he would be left exhausted and trembling, but at least he would be able to sleep undisturbed by nightmares for a few hours.
Brodie met the team on the morning of the fourth day.
The warehouse was situated next to the shabby marina just outside San Miguel, and Cunningham had spared no expense when it came to state of the art equipment.
As Brodie limped into the huge warehouse he was astounded by the activity going on around him. Tara stood at his shoulder lending him silent support as Brodie took in the enormity of the operation of which he had become part.
There were jeeps and hummers, the big army vehicles kitted out with all manner of equipment from grenades to SATCON receivers. A small but sturdy army ambulance stood in a corner and Brodie snorted. They sure as hell would be needing that before the thing was over and done with, he was sure. But he was impressed. Davis had left out nothing, and this time they were going to San Miguel Island as prepared as possible.
Brodie felt unaccountably easier about the trip as he saw men checking ammo boxes and weapons, and by the way they handled them they knew what they were doing. They seemed to have everything from nine-millimeter automatics to combat grenades, and Brodie could see a couple of .50 calibre Browning machine guns mounted on jeeps. He grinned. Cunningham meant business.
"Brodie!"
Turning, Brodie saw Davis striding purposefully towards him, Van Guelder sauntering behind him. Davis gestured at the activity.
"These guns big enough for you? I have a couple of 81-mil mortars too, along with night-vision stuff and thermal surveillance equipment."
"I even packed an M20 rocket launcher." Van Guelder grinned at Brodie. "Thought it might come in handy, especially as we’re going up against some big, nasty baboons."
Brodie ignored the sarcasm.
"Just one little itty-bitty problem, Davis – how the hell are we gonna get all this crap onto the island? Hummers don’t float."
Davis grinned smugly.
"It’s all figured out Frank, I told you. Hercules transport plane. The old runway on the island is just about long enough, and the pilots say they can do it. We had a flight over it a couple of days ago and it’s in pretty good shape. We’ll go ahead by chopper and secure the perimeter about an hour before the Herc lands, and then we’ll unload and head out to the compound. We’ll set up base there."
Frank Brodie’s face paled and Davis suddenly wished he had kept his mouth shut. Brodie hadn’t known.
The compound. They were going back to the compound. Brodie knew in his heart that they would probably do so, but he had steadfastly tried to ignore the idea. But now it was a reality. It had taken all of his nerve to go the last time, and it had almost killed him. It had almost killed Davis too, and it had killed Eddie Mendoza.
"Frank? Frank, are you all right?"
Brodie felt a touch on his arm and he blinked. He turned his head to see Tara looking up at him, brown eyes deeply concerned. He swallowed bile.
"Yeah … yeah, I’m fine." He took a deep breath. "So, when do we go?"
"’Bout a week to ten days. Pieter’s going to put the team through their paces and we have a few final details to iron out, and then we’re ready." Davis looked into haunted blue eyes. "You sure you’re okay with this, Frank?"
Brodie looked at him stonily.
"You just do what you need to do, Davis. I’ll be ready." Brodie was tired. Tired, sore and scared as hell. But he knew he had to go. The thought of making the whole sorry mess right was the only thing keeping him going … that, and Tara. Without her he would probably either have drank himself to death by now or put a bullet in his head. He looked at the young woman beside him and saw the compassion and love in her eyes. It’s all right … I’ll be there too … He nodded at the unspoken words, soothed beyond belief by her presence.
He looked over to Van Guelder, finding the same aggravating half-smile on the handsome face that had gone a long way to pissing him off at dinner a few nights previously.
"You just keep that team of yours on their toes, Van Gilder, or they’ll find they’ve bitten of one helluva lot more than they’ve bargained for. Those things’ll turn ‘em into dog chow at the drop of a hat. Jeez, those baboons’ll think it’s Christmas – all this fresh meat turnin’ up on their doorstep - "
The big South African stiffened.
"The name’s Van Guelder, Mister Brodie – and don’t worry about my team. They can handle themselves."
Brodie snorted with amusement and turned a wolfish grin on Van Guelder.
"I sure as hell hope so. Because if they can’t, they’re fucked."
Brodie began to limp towards the door when he felt a hand grasp his arm. Turning, he found Van Guelder barely a foot away, his grip forceful on Brodie’s bicep. His voice came, deep and hard, its very calmness dripping with anger.
"You listen to me, Brodie. You stay out of my way … you stay out of my team’s way and you let us do our job. I don’t need some broken-down arse-hole screwing things up. You just tell me where these things are and we’ll go and get rid of the buggers – but that’s all you do, you understand? You stay put, do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut. You do that, and we’ll get along just fine. You understand?"
All activity stopped in the huge warehouse as Van Guelder’s team, big, tough ex-military men every one, watched the two men face off. They had never seen the tall, brawny man Van Guelder held by the arm, but they knew who he was. Davis had told them a little of Brodie’s history one night after a few tequilas, and they knew just by looking at the big, lame man how dangerous he was, game leg or no. Van Guelder had his hands full, they were positive.
Brodie looked down at the hand on his bicep, and with one smooth movement pulled it free. Van Guelder saw the blue eyes turn wintry, and Brodie slightly tilted his head to one side as he studied the big South African. Van Guelder suddenly felt like he was a piece of shit on Brodie’s boot. Brodie smiled.
"You do that again, and I swear to God I’ll kill you."
The silence was profound.
Azure met deep brown as Brodie and Van Guelder faced off like a couple of lions, each gauging the other, seeing who would blink first.
But the moment was broken by the sound of a car horn and the screech of brakes outside. Raised voices came, and one of them struck Brodie as vaguely familiar. The stand-off forgotten, all eyes turned to the door as a small figure hauled a kit bag into the cool of the warehouse.
Brodie’s stomach plummeted into his feet.
"Aw, shit!!"
His day was definitely getting worse.
"Well, Mr Brodie, it’s very nice to see you too!"
The Ulster accent was strong with amusement. Dervla Monaghan swept red-gold hair back from her face and grinned. She was dressed in a tee-shirt and combat pants, very different from her starched appearance at Santa Teresa Hospital, and she looked raring to go.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Brodie was furious.
"Dervla is the other member of the medical team, Frank." Tara grinned at him mischievously. "I contacted her right from the start and she jumped at the chance. I reckoned if she could cope with you a few baboons would be nothing."
Dervla Monaghan dumped her kit bag beside the ambulance and turned to face Brodie.
"I was getting bored at the hospital anyway. I’ve worked in Sarajevo and Ethiopia, and a few other places besides, Mr Brodie. I even spent time in Afghanistan at one point. I’ve seen my share of war zones in my time with some of the humanitarian aid agencies, so I’ve been in a sticky spot or two. You don’t have to worry about me … I can even shoot." She turned to Davis. "By the way, Mr Davis, could you do something about those boxes outside? I keep forgetting they’re there and hit them with my car. Sorry about that."
Davis sighed. Dervla drove an ancient, peach-coloured Volkswagen beetle and her parking skills left a lot to be desired. He only hoped she drove a military ambulance better than she did a small car.
Dervla looked around at the assembled team, and her eye caught sight of Van Guelder. This was the first time she had come into contact with the team and the big South African, and her green eyes widened in appreciation.
"My word … you are a big one." Her voice was almost sultry.
Brodie was forgotten as Van Guelder took in Dervla’s neat, rounded figure and the wealth of red-gold hair. He grinned.
"Big all over, that’s me."
Dervla cocked a shrewd eyebrow at him.
"Big mouth too, I’ll warrant. The name’s Dervla. Dervla Monaghan.
You can call me Miss Monaghan."
"Pieter Van Guelder. You can call me anything you like."
"Try ‘ass-hole’ …" Brodie’s voice was dryly insulting.
But Van Guelder wasn’t interested in being baited any more. He was too interested in Dervla.
Leaving Dervla and Van Guelder to become acquainted, Davis walked outside with Brodie and Tara. The late afternoon sun glinted of the blue of the water, and away in the heat haze just beyond the horizon Brodie knew San Miguel Island was waiting. Davis touched his arm.
"C’mon. I’ve got something for you."
Davis led them over to the row of half-a-dozen jeeps and humvees parked on the wharf, and turned to Brodie.
"You’ll be coming down here every day from now on, I should think. I should have done this before, but anyway … take your pick."
Brodie looked at the vehicles. All ex-military issue, they were nevertheless in tip-top mechanical condition and had been well cared-for. He instinctively chose the most anonymous one, an older vehicle with a few scrapes and dents along the side and painted in camouflage colours. It was just right. Davis threw Tara the keys, and clapped Brodie on the shoulder.
"See you tomorrow Brodie. You take it easy and don’t let Van Guelder get to you. He’s okay, y’know? He’s just trying to get on with the job and he’s not used to having to share the responsibility."
Brodie just grunted. We’ll see, he thought. We’ll see …
He eased himself into the passenger seat, his bad leg unwilling to bend properly. But he made it and Tara started the jeep, the diesel engine turning over easily. Brodie tucked his stick down the side of the seat. He looked into Davis’ bemused face.
"You just keep him under control, Davis. You keep an eye on him, y’hear?"
But before Davis could answer, Brodie had nodded to Tara and they roared off along the wharf and up into San Miguel.
***********************
Brodie was bored.
He had been sitting in the jeep now for fifteen minutes as Tara hunted through the local store for food and canned goods, determined that Brodie had a decent diet that didn’t consist exclusively of pizzas. He fiddled with his walking stick, trying to get the light to catch the garnets of the leopard’s eyes, but that was too easy. He would have liked to unsheath the steel blade and study it, but it wasn’t something you could do in public. Some local federale would arrest him for carrying a dangerous weapon and he would be stuck.
He was on the point of hauling his butt out of the jeep and going to find Tara and chew her out for taking so long when he heard a yelp. Looking around he could see nothing, but the sound came again, louder this time. Then he heard raucous laughter. The noise came from an alleyway along the street.
Muttering, he managed to heave himself out of the jeep and he limped heavily along to the alley entrance just as more yelps were heard from the gloom. Peering into the gloom he saw half-a-dozen boys heaving stones at a dog.
"Hey!!"
Faces turned as Brodie roared a warning at the boys, and dropping their stones they high-tailed it through an open side-door, leaving their victim cowering against a wall. Brodie couldn’t make the animal out too clearly, but he could see the animal was big. In fact, it was downright enormous, easily as big as a St Bernard, but not quite as bulky.
He stood watching the animal for a few moments, and the big dog slowly came out of its defensive cower and stood gazing back at the big man.
Brodie scowled.
"Stupid mutt! Somethin’ as big as you should’ve been able to deal with a few kids!" He saw steady dark eyes gaze back at him, unafraid now, and the long, hairy tail wagged imperceptibly. "Why don’t you get out of here, you moron!" The dog didn’t move. "Go on! Git! Go find a cute poodle and make lots of little dogs – it’s a lot more fun than hangin’ around here!"
Brodie watched as the big animal took a few hesitant steps past him and trotted out of the alley and disappeared around the corner. He limped back to the jeep just in time to see Tara emerge from the store, her arms full of bags. He clambered painfully back into the passenger seat and settled down as Tara eased in beside him and started the engine.
"Where were you?" She smiled at him.
Brodie shook his head.
"Just went for a walk. C’mon, girl. Let’s go home. I’m hungry." Noticing Tara’s bemused expression, he couldn’t resist. He leaned over and kissed her. "An’ I’m not talkin’ about food."
Tara kissed him back, suddenly completely charmed.
"Why, Mister Brodie – I don’t know what you mean …"
"Get me home, woman, an’ I’ll show you …" Brodie’s voice had an unmistakable growl to it.
Tara smirked and put the pedal to the metal.
*******************
Brodie was the first one out of bed for once.
The sun was already up and the morning cool was swiftly making way to heat, and Brodie eased himself out of Tara’s arms and levered himself out of bed. He had slept better through the night, Tara’s body and gentle loving had soothed the pain away, and her whispered words of love had calmed him until he fell asleep, head tucked into the hollow of her neck.
He lifted his stick and padded through to his front door, clad only in his boxer shorts, and as was his habit these days opened the door to let through a cool breeze.
"Sonofabitch!!!! Get off me!! Shit!!"
Tara awoke with a lurch. What the hell was going on?? She stumbled out of bed and wandered through to the small living room … and burst out laughing.
Frank Brodie was pinned up against the door by the biggest, hairiest, shittiest-looking dog she had ever seen, and the animal was washing Brodie’s face with a series of very sloppy licks with a tongue that seemed to go on forever. Huge paws were planted on Brodie’s bare chest, leaving filthy pawprints, and the animal’s hairy, bottle-brush tail was wagging nineteen to the dozen. Tara thought he sure was one happy dog.
Managing to subdue her hysterics, she took a few deep breaths and calmed down.
"Well, Frank? Who’s your friend?"
Brodie swore loudly and succinctly, then managed to grab the animal’s scruff and pull it off him. The dog thumped to the floor like a dinosaur and nudged at Brodie’s other hand with a wet nose.
"Goddamn animal!!!" He took a few deep breaths to calm down, and heaved himself away from the door and dropped into his chair. The dog followed, the long tail sweeping two coffee cups and a packet of chips off the low coffee table. Frank swore some more. The dog ignored him. It sat down and gazed at the big man, tongue hanging out, and Tara had to admit the animal seemed to like Frank very much. Tara sat down on the sofa and the big animal got up and wandered over, brown eyes bright with good humour.
"Hey, fella … " Tara’s voice was soft as she reached out and rumpled floppy ears, and she could see under all the filth in the rank coat that there was a very handsome dog waiting to get out. The coat was long and thick, and a sort of disgusting brown due to the grime, but the beast’s face had a fetching dark mask. "You need a bath. You stink."
Brodie erupted.
"Bath?? Don’t even think about it, Tara! I save the stupid moron’s hide and it thinks I own the dumb sonofabitch! I should’ve just let those kids beat the crap out of the cretin! The last thing I need is a goddamn dog!!"
Tara smirked.
"Well, Frank, I don’t think you have much choice in the matter. Anyway, I think he’s kind of cute."
Brodie stared at her in disbelief. She was nuts. He didn’t want a dog. Hell, he didn’t even like dogs!
The argument raged for about an hour, and ended with Brodie taking a shower to get rid of the pawprints on his chest, and Tara feeding the dog. When Brodie had finished, she took the big animal into the bathroom and gave it a bath, the beast sneezing with indignation but succumbing to the indignity with grace. She found some old towels and rubbed the big animal as dry as she could, and then let him – for it was male, she discovered very quickly – out into the living room where he went completely crazy, rolling on the carpet and wriggling until he had got rid of the feel of water in his coat.
Brodie was by this time was sitting out in the yard grumpily munching toast, and he was soon joined by Tara and the dog. The change in the beast was remarkable. The coat was now thick and russet-gold, falling in waves over a huge, powerful frame. The mask on his face was chocolate brown, and the animal’s tail was long and heavily covered in red-gold curls.
The dog padded over to Brodie and collapsed with a happy groan under Brodie’s leg, now propped up on a neighbouring chair. The tail thumped once with pleasure and then the beast was asleep.
Brodie eyed Tara.
"We ain’t keepin’ it."
Tara grinned.
"Don’t worry. I’ll ask around and see if he belongs to someone. I’m sure a big dog like him will have been missed, and he must have belonged to someone to be so friendly."
Brodie grunted. It wasn’t exactly the right answer, but it would do. He looked down at the dog beneath his leg, the animal’s black eyebrows twitching as it dreamt doggy dreams.
"Dumb shit."
Picking up his cup of coffee, he carried on eating his breakfast.
************************
For days Tara hunted around looking for the dog’s owner while also finishing preparations for the trip to the island. Brodie pored over maps and made copious notes, and occasionally headed off down to the warehouse to see how things were progressing.
Every time they left in the jeep, the dog trotted down the road after them for a short distance, then returned to lie by the front door, huge head resting on enormous paws. When they returned in the evening the animal was overjoyed to see them, tail wagging the big body in excitement.
But when no owner appeared, Tara became concerned. She discovered there was no animal shelter in San Miguel, and she decided she would have to make some arrangements for the beast for while they were away. Brodie thought the whole thing ridiculous.
"He’s lived on the street, Tara. He can take care of himself."
That comment earned Brodie a day’s worth of snide comments and having to make his own dinner as Tara went on strike. The dog just lay down and waited it out. Brodie cooked a fairly decent supper of chicken cacciatore and ate outside in the cool of the evening, the dog stretched out beside him. Tara sat opposite, picking at the food.
"I managed to get Mrs Ortega to agree to feed him while we’re away."
Brodie grunted non-commitally. Their next-door neighbour was notoriously forgetful, but he wasn’t going to tell Tara that. But he had other things on his mind. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Tomorrow, they were going to San Miguel Island, and Brodie had to admit to himself he was shit-scared.
He took a deep breath and stood up.
"I’ll clean up, and then I’m goin’ to get some sleep. You comin’?"
Tara looked at him, her eyes softening as she realised he needed her. He had to do this, and he couldn’t do it without her beside him.
"Yeah. I’ll be in soon, Frank. I’ll just tidy up out here and I’ll be with you in a minute or two."
She watched Brodie limp inside with his plate, and sat back. Tomorrow was going to be hard on him, she knew. It was the first step on a journey he didn’t want to make, but Brodie knew he had to go or be lost. This was his only chance of redemption, Tara decided, and she would be with him every inch of the way.
She felt a cold nose nudge under her hand, and she rumpled the dog’s soft ears.
"Well, dog. You behave yourself while we’re gone, and don’t give Mrs Ortega any trouble, okay? We’ll be back soon, I promise."
Sighing, she stood up and began to clear away dishes in the gathering gloom.
*****************
The day dawned bright and clear as Tara and Brodie loaded gear into the back of the jeep before heading out to Santa Teresa airstrip to meet up with Davis and the others.
The dog sat by the door, knowing something was up, but not understanding what was going on, and his fathomless brown eyes watched Brodie as the last of the gear was stowed in the vehicle. Tara closed the door behind her and disappeared next door to Mrs Ortega to give her the key. There was dog chow in the shed and plenty of water, and the dog could sleep in the house if it rained, she said.
Brodie waited impatiently in the jeep, arms crossed, as Tara trotted down the steps and into the driver’s seat. She looked at Brodie.
"You ready?"
Brodie nodded.
"Ready as I’ll ever be."
Tara started the jeep and they pulled away from the kerb, and Brodie
watched
in the wing mirror as the big dog trotted into the road and followed the jeep,
as always. His face became pensive.
"Oh … fuck it!!"
Tara slammed on the brakes, the jeep screeching to a halt.
"What’s the matter? What have you forgotten?"
Brodie ignored her and turned in the seat, looking back along the road. He whistled shrilly.
The big animal’s ears cocked, and then the dog bounded along the road joyfully and scrambled into the back seat of the jeep.
Tara was astounded.
"What the hell are you doing, Frank??"
He scowled at her.
"Mrs Ortega couldn’t feed a mouse. The goddamn idiot will starve to death." He looked at the dog, now sitting happily on the back seat, tongue hanging out with delight. "And you! You behave yourself, y’hear? And if you get yourself eaten by one of those fuckin’ baboons, then don’t blame me!"
"Frank - "
Brodie glared at Tara’s highly amused expression.
"WHAT?"
Tara snorted and shook her head. He couldn’t admit he liked the animal.
"Nothing, Frank. Not a thing."
With a barely concealed grin she put the jeep in gear and they were off.
*****************