trimmed with gold. The hood was down. She had, he thought, the most beautifully shaped head.
He hauled himself out of the pool, conscious that fit though he was, he was making heavier weather of it than she had. Of course, he was a good ten years older, but still…
'I talked to the kitchen,' she said. 'Irish coffee. Tastes good after a swim.'
He put on his robe and took the hot glass. They sat at a poolside table facing each other. His wedding ring glinted in the light as he drank. She wore none, he noticed.
'My name's Shanley,' he said. 'Don Shanley.'
'I know,' she said. 'I asked. You looked interesting. Married, but interesting.'
Shanley smiled. 'I'm still married,' he said.
She laughed. 'You still look interesting,' she said. 'That doesn't mean I have to sleep with you – even at a trade show where sex seems to go with the territory. I guess I want to talk. I don't know why. It's just one of those nights. I just don't want it to end.'
They talked about everyone and everything until the sky began to lighten and there was no choice but to part. They never touched.
'What's your name?' said Shanley just before he left. And then he added as an afterthought, 'And rank?'
'Folks call me Texas,' she said. 'I made captain before I quit. Airborne.'
'It shows, Texas,' said Shanley. 'Thank you. You're a pleasure to meet.'
After he left, Texas sat by the pool for quite some time.
7
Kathleen was subdued and distant in the morning.
She breakfasted early and lightly and headed for the coast to do some sightseeing. She wanted to get as far away from Fayetteville/Fort Bragg as possible. The entire area seemed to be making an industry out of preparing to kill other humans, and she found it all depressing. Even the hotel pool offered no relief. During the day it was used to demonstrate equipment by Navy SEALs.
The military presence was unrelenting. And they were all so damned cheerful and gung-ho about it. She was awash in camaraderie and male bonding, and if she was not careful she would drown.
She loved Hugo and would endure what was necessary given their situation, but it was not her world. She understood that Fitzduane did not enjoy being under threat either, but there was a fundamental difference. Hugo was comfortable with his world of weapons. He was not confined to it, but he functioned supremely well in it. It was something of a shock seeing him this way. In Ireland, on the island, Hugo trained with the Rangers, but it was somehow more subdued. Here it was very American and very extroverted, and she felt the whole damn thing was being rammed down her throat.
She had heard that much of the North Carolina coast was very beautiful. Some totally civilian scenery would be nice. She savored the word civilian. It had always seemed such a dull word. Now it carried with it an ethos her heart cried out for.
'You look vaguely shook, Hugo,' said Kilmara cheerfully as he found Fitzduane alone having breakfast. 'The wife been beating you again, or is it the prospect of yet another warm sunny day? It's disorienting for us Irish. We're like certain types of plants. We expect to get rained on regularly but unpredictably.'
Fitzduane did not wear his heart on his sleeve, but Kilmara was someone who was very close to him.
He smiled. 'Kathleen is not a happy lady, which is unusual. She awoke not in good form and headed as far away from uniforms and military hardware as possible. I think she plans to roam and sunbathe along the North Carolina coast.'
'Lucky North Carolina,' said Kilmara. 'If you don't mind me commenting on your wife, Kathleen looks sumptuous in a swimsuit. Also, she is right. All this military stuff is bullshit. It's fun, but it's ridiculous. And it gets people killed. If I wasn't a general, I would jack the whole thing in. And hell, man, you don't want a wife who wears jump boots in the kitchen.'
Fitzduane did not reply to this sally, which was unusual. He normally enjoyed Kilmara when he was being outrageous. There was something else to all this.
Kilmara gave his friend space and focused on his scrambled eggs. Soon enough, Fitzduane spoke.
'Out of the blue, for no reason that I could think of, Kathleen asked me if I ever thought of Etan. Well, the question was so unexpected, I did not dissemble in any way. I told her the truth.'
Kilmara was silent under the cover of hunting for some marmalade. He did not really understand American breakfasts.
He was also very fond of Etan, Boots's mother, and had been quite upset when she had opted for a career ahead of Fitzduane. Particularly when she still loved the man. But people were nothing if to perverse. He was also very fond of Kathleen. He thought his friend had excellent taste in women. A Japanese name also came into his mind, but he could not quite recall it. That was the trouble with these military conventions. Soldiers all drank as if there were no tomorrow. Of course, sometimes they were right.
'Some men can sleep with a woman and then wipe the encounter from their mind as if it was of no consequence,' said Fitzduane. 'You can do that, Shane. I can't.'
'Sometimes it is of no consequence,' said Kilmara. 'Sex should not be confused with romance, though I admit they can overlap. But if you carve the name of every woman you have slept with on your body, you'll end up looking like an old oak tree on lovers' lane. Well, I like my bark pristine. I also believe in concentration of effort. Remember only the good ones – and for heaven's sake, be quick or selective.'
Fitzduane smiled.
'So what did you tell Kathleen when she asked about Etan?' Kilmara asked.
Fitzduane took his time replying. 'I think about Etan every day,' he said. 'She is the mother of my son. Every time I see Boots I am reminded of her. I think of what might have been – of what should have been. And it makes me a little sad. She was my lover and she was my friend. I've adapted, but I miss her.'
Kilmara's cup of coffee was frozen in midflight. 'You said all that, Hugo?' he said. 'Holy shit! Someone is going to have to lock you up.' He rolled his eyes. 'Basic training: Women do not like to be reminded of other women unless you have a menage a trois. What am I going to do with you!'
'I also said that I have never been happier than with Kathleen and I love her with every atom of my being,' said Fitzduane quietly. 'And that's true also.'
Kilmara waggled his hand and beamed. 'Well, for an idiot you recover well.' He frowned. 'And you did this all over breakfast? Now, that is ridiculous.'
Fitzduane smiled and then changed the subject. 'Where is Maury?' he said.
'In his mobile home,' said Kilmara. 'He has got an encrypted mobile phone that he talks to Lee Cochrane with. Mark my words. Those guys are plotting.'
'What about?' said Fitzduane.
'Think of them as travel agents,' said Kilmara. 'I think they are still planning to get you to Mexico. They have this thing about Tecuno, and they think you are the best man for the job. Kind of flattering in its way.'
'Not a chance,' said Fitzduane. 'I have enough firefighting to do at home.'
'With Kathleen?' said Kilmara, slightly taken aback.
'With Boots,' said Fitzduane with a smile. 'My sweet little five-year-old son. You know, the one who was found playing with your loaded service automatic the last time you were staying. He nearly got it into action, too.'
Kilmara went pale. He remembered all too well. Terrorism was something he was used to dealing with, but a curious five-year-old was a higher order of threat altogether. And television made the kids familiar with safety catches and the like. Boots had found he was not strong enough to work the slide and had been experimenting holding the weapon in a vise and using two hands when he was caught. He was an ingenious little monster.
