Jack Terral - Rolling Thunder (2007)

Not a bit, Stephie said with a slight giggle. He married me because I look so much like you. And I married him because his family is so rich. Even richer than my own. Harrington doesn't have to work and as long as I don't interfere with his drinking, he pretty much lets me have my way. It's really quite convenient, and I'm given a generous allowance. Between him and my trust fund, I have some seventy-five thousand a year to fritter away.

And as your most loyal shopping companion, Penny said, I bear witness to your extravagant frittering.

The let's get Harrington up here.

Mildred, Penny said to one of the maids. Go downstairs and tell Mr. Gilwright to come up here.

He'll be the half-drunk little sot in the library, Stephie said. The maid stopped her packing chores and left the room.

Don't worry, Stephie. He's just being stubborn.

The maid returned within a couple of minutes with Harrington Gilwright behind her. He joined his wife and her cousin. He was an incredibly slim young man with thinning hair and a weak chin. His face was flushed from a couple of quick cocktails and his thick eyebrows were knitted into a frown. What d'you two want?

What we want, Penny said, is for you to stop being such an asshole.

Well, why shouldn't I be? he said defensively. I'm not at all sure I want to live in California.

You'll absolutely love Coronado, Stephie said. The winters are very mild. You can sit out on the veranda in the sun even in January and drink yourself into glorious stupefaction.

They have patios, not verandas, in California, Penny said. Anyway, I've already leased us a very nice house on San Diego Bay.

Harrington's frown increased. The only reason you're taking the place is to be close to Chadwick. I don't see why you don't just go out there alone, and leave Stephie and me in peace.

I cannot go by myself because my grandmamai will not permit it, Penny said. Although I'm of age, she is an old-fashioned woman.

Tell her to mind her own business, why don't you? Harrington said.

She still has control over my trusts, Penny said.

Harrington had a perfect understanding of that situation since it was trusts that kept him from having to be gainfully employed. But he wasn't through arguing. Well, she let you go to the United Nations, didn't she?

Grandmamai is a staunch limousine liberal from Massachusetts who believes in the UN, Penny said. But all that is beside the point. She would only give in if Stephie came with me. And Stephie can't go unless you go without creating trouble on your side of the family. So you are going, Harrington. Give in and avoid a lot of trouble.

We'll be there too long! Harrington snapped. I don't like being away from the New England social scene any more than I have to.

I won't need you and Stephie to be there for very much time, Penny said.

Yes, you will! Your whole idea of going there is to trap Chadwick into marriage, Harrington pointed out. That could be, like, never ever. I really don't think he wants to marry you since he's become a seal or a walrus or whatever those brutes call themselves.

Ha! Penny laughed. Men don't know what to think when it comes to getting married.

That's right, Stephie agreed. That's one subject we women have dominated since time began.

And another thing, Harrington said, you have no idea when he's coming back from the Middle East. He might be over there for another year or two.

Then I'm sure you'll have learned to really love California by then, Penny said.

Well, we must go, Stephie said, grabbing Harrington's arm. There's still a lot we have to attend to before tomorrow's flight.

Let's stop for a drink on the way home, Harrington begged as he was dragged from the room.

Penny turned her attention back to the maids and her trunks.

.

NORTHERN OA

20 MAY

0700 HOURS

THE SEALs were in position to hit the smuggling column when it returned from its delivery. The Bravo DPVs were a half-dozen kilometers to the west, well concealed in a stand of boulders. Their assignment, under the command of Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser, was to report when the bad guys passed their position, then discreetly follow them, remaining out of sight. Senior Chief Buford Dawkins had his Charlies to the east, lying in wait.

The action would begin when the smugglers reached a point directly in front of the Alphas. That was when the Skipper and Petty Officer Connie Concord would take their vehicles into a direct attack on the enemy. The action would be the signal for the Bravos and Charlies to launch their own assaults. Because of the rugged high country to the south, the smugglers would have no choice but to go directly toward one of the SEAL sections if they decided to fight back. That would leave the other two the leeway to play the game in the best way possible, depending on how the battle developed.

But at that particular moment, there was nothing to do. The Skipper sat on the hood of Alpha One sipping a cup of MRE instant coffee. He glanced around at his men in the vicinity. Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz were playing a brand of pinochle they called Cutthroat ; Malachenko was using a notebook and pen to explain the pronunciation of the Cyrillic alphabet to Connie Concord; and Guy Devereaux lay on his poncho, reading a paperback adventure novel.

Hurry up and wait.

Chapter 21

THE OPIUM TRAIL

21 MAY

0745 HOURS

THE Iranian Army trucks that hauled the opium powder during the trip to Turkey were now empty of the narcotic cargo. The mujahideen who had endured the first leg of the voyage on top of the bundles could now stretch out comfortably in the backs, enjoying intermittent naps interrupted from time to time as the convoy bounced and rolled across the desert on its way back to the rendezvous site.

Two of the vehicles were filled with food and comfort items that were destined for delivery to the people at the stronghold. These would be packed into containers and placed on the backs of the donkeys that the smugglers thought were waiting patiently back at the rendezvous site.

Some new items were among the goods, such as Oreo cookies, butterscotch candy, and small packages of cheese and crackers. These would make welcome supplements to the usual load of potato chips and Pepsi. Bolts of cotton and woolen cloth, sewing kits, kitchen butcher knives, and miscellaneous items of clothing were also among the things purchased by Husay Bangash from the itinerate Turkish peddlers who had accompanied the buyers of the poppy powders.

These sellers' collective profits soared near 1000 percent, but the isolated Pashtuns, without access to legal markets, had no choice but to meet the outrageous prices. The Turkish merchants had a monopoly that afforded them the advantageous position of not having to bargain with their bucolic customers.

The crews on the Toyota pickups could relax their vigilance a bit during the return journey since their valuable cargo was sold and no cash had been given them. The tremendous amount of money paid for the narcotics delivery was still in Swiss banks, but would soon be transferred through international financial institutions until arriving in Tehran. From there, the profit would go to military disbursement centers to meet the expenses of the Jihad Abadi, the scheme that American intelligence had dubbed Operation Persian Empire. Part of the payout would go to the coffers of Warlord Yama Orakzai for his personal profit and expenses. Orakzai Messer would have been angered if he knew what a small percentage of the overall profits he actually received.

Arsalaan Sikes Pasha was in the cab of the same pickup truck he had ridden from the rendezvous site. But his garb was decidedly different for the trip back. The English turncoat was clothed in the proper battle dress of an Iranian combat arms officer. The epaulets bore the subdued black on olive drab insignia of an eight-pointed star that designated his rank of sargord in the Iranian Army. He had also put away his puhtee Afghan cap and replaced it with his old keffiyeh and its aka. Sikes thought the headdress in combination with a Western-style army uniform made him better fit the proper image of a true pasha.