Shadows of the Past (SEAL Brotherhood: Shadow Team #1)

Chapter Seventeen

D imitri and the other nine members of their group pushed their luggage and bags down the hallway from the hotel to the ticketing gates. Rounding a corner, at the entrance to the terminal, they discovered a line of armed Special Forces troops waiting for them.

“Shit,” Dimitri mumbled.

He knew he had to make a call, but he couldn’t get a connection. The WIFI was not working, hadn’t synced with the airport system. He watched the little rotary circles wind around and around, with still no connection, over and over again.

“Can anybody get through? Byron, call Kyle, if you can get through.”

“Will do.”

Moira’s father stepped forward. “What does this mean, Dimitri? What has happened?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m working on it.”

Moira was also on her phone, trying to reach her family on Capri.

And then the one guy he was hoping he’d never have to meet in person, Minister of Defense-slash-Capo Enrico Francone stepped in front of his men in full dress regalia, medals dripping like icicles on a snow-covered cabin at Tahoe from his impressive black uniform.

Dimitri still hadn’t reached his target. Byron shook his head as well, unable to reach Kyle Lansdowne, their Team 3 LPO.

This contingency he hadn’t thought of, and he was kicking himself, because he should have. It was always a possibility, but he never expected the man would appear publicly.

A small crowd gathered in the terminal hallway beyond. That was either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on what happened next. He knew the man wore two hats. One hat wouldn’t hesitate to act. The other one wanted to keep his higher office, and if murder was the immediate intent, he’d have to take out a hundred or more airport passengers and staff. It wouldn’t be a very good look for him or for the Italian Government.

What are you going to do? It is what it is.

Francone’s handsome face and twinkling eyes, relishing the circumstance and perhaps perceived good fortune, landed on Moira’s mother, who was clutching the arm of her husband.

Francone held his arms out to the sides, tilting his face to the left.

“Carabella. Mi amore , so nice to see you after so many years.”

Dimitri was puzzled by the warm expression.

Moira stood in front of her mother and spoke first in response. “We demand an answer to this, Commander Francone. This false sense of affection is distasteful to everyone standing here. And to those onlooking behind you. You cannot bar us from leaving your country.”

“Ah, the lovely Moira. I used to study you long distance. So sorry about your caretaker.”

“Our caretaker. What you did was damage our whole family. Haven’t you taken enough?”

He leaned to the side, peeking a look at her mother. “Carabella, you have something to say, perhaps?”

This is totally fucked up. More fucking secrets!

Moira’s family were impossible targets to protect. Just impossible. He never knew what was going to happen next, what side agreements were made, what obscure family history would come up to bite him and threatened to kill them all. It was the same thing he hated about the Teams, the lack of good, accurate intelligence. The intelligence briefing on this family would fill a book the size of a Webster’s.

And this man standing before him had been her father’s partner at one time. What part of this made sense? On what planet were these people from?

Byron and the other SEALs looked at him sideways, without being overt about it. He knew they didn’t have enough time to get their firearms out of their bags to defend anybody, and they certainly were not packing because they were stuck in a fuckin’ airport confronted by Special Force guys who were armed to the teeth.

Of all the fucked-up situations he could be in! His own damn fault. Taking on something that couldn’t happen in a million years. What was he thinking? He should have stayed behind his desk at State, going on missions to rescue people who really wanted to be rescued, who at least knew part of the drill.

Moira’s mother kissed her husband’s forehead and stepped forward, like a timid child called out for cheating. She was contrite, embarrassed, careful, but unwavering in what she said.

“Enrico,” and there was a hush amongst all the players in the hallway at the familiar tone she spoke to the Commander using. “You have tried my whole life to upend a decision that was made long ago. You knew my parents sent me to New York to be rid of you and your unwanted advances—”

So not a cousin, then? Or maybe yes. Maybe in this culture—

“But even that didn’t deter you. You knew I fell in love and married, had a family, and you knew I pined for the country of my origin, so you pretended to be a friend and gave him opportunities, and then you took them all away.”

So there was the answer to Dimitri’s questions about why the capo didn’t just murder the lot of them. Was there a romance? Oh My God! Another fuckin’ secret!

Francone interrupted her but was a gentleman. He bowed to her, did not touch her, but showed deference. “But, Carabella, I hoped you would see the way our families could—”

“Never, Enrico. Never as long as I have any breath in my body. How dare you pretend to be a friend when you are a snake! Your false offer to protect us. You killed our caretaker, murdered them.”

“That was the SEALs, Carabella, you know this.”

She shook her head. “No. It was your henchmen.”

“An unintended consequence, I assure you.”

“So what’s this then? You are barring us from leaving.”

“I have questions. The interviews are not complete. After that, we will see. But this will not happen today. It was pure folly on your part to think that I would let all of you just walk out and catch a plane, even with your own security detail, the dishonorable SEAL who your daughter sleeps with. I have to say you showed much better taste than she does. Look at him.”

Why did they all have to turn and look?

“This is my fiancé,” Moira stuck up for him. “How dare you talk about choices. You are prohibiting our freedom. We are United States’ citizens, and we deserve to exercise our freedom. We have done nothing wrong. These men are for our protection.”

Francone was not impressed. He waved his hand through the air dismissively. Dimitri wanted to tear him apart. He checked his phone and still saw the whirly-gigs running like hamsters in a cage.

Next time, I’m getting a SAT phone. I don’t care what Davis says.

And then something miraculous happened. It rang, echoing throughout the hallway. The crowd had gotten larger and stirred with whispers. Uniformed agents checked the area and quickly left.

“Davis?”

“God fuckin’ bless America, Dimitri. What the hell have you done to my budget? Oh, you think you’re going to have a job left after you fuckin’ charged a twenty-five-thousand-dollar yacht excursion on your credit card? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Your ass is toast—”

The acoustics in the room were perfect. Even Byron was stifling a snicker. The men behind Francone spoke softly amongst themselves.

“Uh, listen, Davis. Now is not a good time. I need a favor from you, if you don’t mind.”

He held the phone away from his ear a foot, waiting for the barrage of insults to stop. No other way to deal with this man, he thought. Just wait him out. He’d get tired, and then he might listen.

“Need a favor? I’ll tell you what, how about I get an investigative reporter on your ass, and we get a full-page story on you and your corruption on the front page of the New York fuckin’ Times! Huh? How about I threaten to take down your buddy-buddy bestie the president, huh?”

Those were magic words. Of all the things he could have said, he chose those. And Francone understood fully.

“Funny you should mention that, sir,” he said, peering directly at Francone as he spoke into the phone. “Would you mind having the president of the United States call me right now? I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

Everyone froze. He could see Francone was recalibrating his odds, which had just shifted. His eyes moved slowly from side to side as he tried to figure out his standing. Whatever was coming next, there would be lots of witnesses to it.

Davis continued after he got his breath back.

“A pickle. I saw some photos of you. And if you think it’s funny to use State Department funds to go show some of your drag queen friends a good time on the Mediterranean—I thought you were a solid guy. Does this mean I should question your relationship with the president? Is he a player too?”

“Not at all, sir, and neither am I. I just need to talk to him. Everything will be worked out, and there’s a good explanation for it, all of it. But right now is not the time nor the place to do this. I’ve got at least a dozen semis pointed at my face, the faces of my fiancée’s family, and four SEALs from SEAL Team 3. Without your help, it will be a massacre, and it will all be on your hands.”

He knew it was a stretch. He also knew it was unfair to put all that on Davis, who had been nothing but a solid guy to him, letting him do what he wanted when he wanted and paying him a lot of money to do something no one else could do as well as he could. But it was something he’d have to fix later. Right now, he needed the pressure. That leverage was the only thing left in his arsenal. He prayed Davis would be the Davis he always was, that he would get off his high horse and back down, just like he always did.

And it worked.

They waited no more than five minutes for the call he’d requested. “You’re not recording this, I hope, and no one else better be doing that now, right?” the president said.

“No, sir. I need you to let this gentleman standing here, Commander Enrico Francone, the—”

“I know the asshole. Don’t quote me.”

“I need you to talk to him, sir, and ask him nicely to let us get on our plane and leave for London, back to the States. There’s ten of us Americans here, Moira and her family and my guys from Team 3 and me, of course. We want to come home.”

“Okay, I’ll try. I think I have something I can use. You’re gonna owe me, Dimitri. I don’t want to have to do this again.”

“Not. To. Worry. I’ve totally learned my lesson. This will never, ever happen again, sir.”

He handed the phone to Francone, who smiled in spite of himself. It was the kind of smile that made Dimitri think of someone eating too many prunes or Bing cherries at once and having a lower bowel reaction.

“Yessir? Senator Goldberg? Oh, Senator Goldberg and I are not friends any longer. Remember, he interfered when we were trying to rescue your American family, the very ones standing in front of me here. As you know, he got in the way.”

Moira looked up at Dimitri, wonder in her eyes. Were they about to get the other white whale?

“I understand, sir, and it will be done. Thank you for telling me. If you need anything, anything at all, my department will be at your service, Mr. President. Thank you for your help.”

He handed the phone back to Dimitri, who put it to his ear, but the president had hung up.

The next few hours went by quickly. They were ushered through customs, but not before Moira’s mother ran back and gave Commander Francone a kiss on the cheek, which he tried to brush off, gruffly. Dimitri knew there was a whole other story he’d find out about someday.

Did he want into this family and all their crazy relatives, friends, and culture? If it was the price to pay to have Moira back in his life, hell yes!

They boarded the British Airways jet, which was so sparsely populated that everyone was able to spread out. Dimitri and Moira were seated in First Class, even though they were not ticketed for it, something he thought perhaps was a parting gift from Francone. But then, he doubted the commander had that much sway with the airline. Especially the Brits.

As they took off, the puffy clouds filling the porthole windows, he settled back, propped their feet up together, and snuggled, kissing and nuzzling, playing no-touchy here and there just for fun. Even with the play and the elated sense of freedom that filled his soul, he couldn’t quite stop the tears from filling his eyes.

He was grateful. Grateful that the good guys won again. It was messy, but the right thing happened. They got to ride off into the sunset together, just like a true-life romance.

With a story behind them no one would ever believe.

He wondered what was next. It couldn’t get any worse than this last one. But it turned out the right way.

What are you going to do? It is what it is.