“Not just any old cigars,” Broker said, trying to hold down his rising mirth. “Those are Cohibas, honey.”
“Not just any old Cohibas, either,” Holly said in a weary voice. “Looks like forty-two ring, seven inches. Those are Lanceros. What Castro used to smoke.”
The shooters slung their rifles and motioned for Ace and George to get up. Ace turned to George and said, “Better let me do the talking.” Seeing the small catlike smile play across George’s lips, he said firmly, “George, hey man, this isn’t funny.”
George Khari immediately sobered.
The shooters moved off with Nina, Jane, Broker, and the two guys from the van. They all joined the white- haired guy and the guy with the Geiger counter. They stood in a little semicircle. Flak Jacket was doing all the talking, in a controlled shout. He waved his hands in tight circles. The guy was pissed. Ace heard the word
Jim Yeager stood back from the harangue and then moved smoothly into the power vacuum. Hands on his hips, faintly smiling, he said, “Okay, Ace. Why don’tcha explain what’s going on here. Like, who’s this guy?” Yeager pointed at George, who was now furious, trying to dust the gravel stains off his shirt and shorts.
“Assholes!” George yelled. “They put oil on the gravel, or something. Look-brand new, from Cabela’s, fucking ruined.” He shook his fist at the coven of military types and shouted. “You pussies. You got nothing better to do? Is this because I come from Lebanon? I pay taxes, you know, goddammit, and so does my uncle. He was in Korea. First fucking Marines. He walked from Chosen to the coast with shrapnel in his knee, and you fucking Girl Scouts have fought-who, the fucking Panamanians? The Grenadians? The dip-shit Iraqis? Some losers in Afghanistan?”
“George, calm down,” Ace said. He turned to Yeager. “He’s George Khari, an old friend of the family. He’s a liquor distributer from Grand Forks. We kind of run into each other on the road.”
“Uh-huh,” Yeager said. “And what about that?” He pointed to the foot locker.
Ace smiled, enjoying himself. “Well, we were trying to figure out what to do about that. I found it just sitting there on the gravel north of town.” Ace paused, relishing the moment. “Fact is…
“Who are those fuckers?” George demanded, pointing at Holly and company. “I want all their names and their jobs. I want to talk to my lawyer!”
Yeager said, “C’mon, figure it out. They’re people from the air base across the road. You’re on government property here. They probably scrambled to see why you’re creeping around the site. Like back during the missile time.”
“Yeah, right. Protecting the gophers who live here, huh?” Ace grinned. “You know what I think? I think you should get your ass out there and write a ticket to that fuckin’ helicopter. Looks to me like it’s blocking traffic.”
“Watch your mouth, Ace,” Yeager warned.
Broker gathered that the troubleshooter who’d flown in from the Office of Homeland Security was willing to break the rules for a nuclear event. But not for a box of smuggled cigars. They had nothing on George Khari-who was a
“You got till tomorrow morning to clean up this mess. Then I want everybody en route to Bragg by noon. Figure out a way to make it so that this didn’t happen. End of story.” The Washington bureaucrat took off his flak jacket, dropped it at Holly’s feet, and stalked back to the helicopter.
“Dry fucking hole,” Holly said, kicking at the dirt. “Rashid fed us a line of crap.” He circled his fist and pumped it. The guy with the Geiger counter and the four shooters trotted back to the helicopter. It lifted off and droned away to the south. The black guy and his partner got back in their van and drove off to the east. Holly gestured to Yeager to come over and talk. That left Broker, Jane, and a very pissed off Nina standing on the side of the road, illuminated by the lights from the Tahoe, looking at Ace and George.
“So this is your real life, huh? Some kinda soldier?” Ace called out to Nina.
“Ace, you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your hole,” Yeager yelled. Then he went back to conferring with Holly. After a few moments, Holly motioned to Nina, Jane, and Broker. When they were huddled around him, he shook his head. “You heard the asshole from D.C. We’re outta here.”
“You mean just let them go?” Jane pushed out her chin and planted her hands on her hips.
“No choice. What’d they do?” Holly said.
“I can take Ace in for possession of contraband,” said Yeager, “but he has a point. It was a classified Army unit opened that box. If we charge him, that could bring this whole operation into court. A good attorney would try to subpoena you guys, take depositions, make you testify in court…”
“You heard the man,” Holly said and jerked his head in the direction of the fading helicopter rotors. Then he turned to Yeager. “Can you make it go away?”
Yeager heaved his shoulders. “I’ll try.” He walked over to Ace and George. Broker, Nina, Jane, and Holly followed.
“Okay, Ace, we’re going to offer you and George a deal, and if you’re smart, you’ll take it.” Yeager took out his cell. “I can call the SO, get a man out here in a cruiser and arrest you two on suspicion of smuggling…”
“Am I under arrest?” George asked, jaw thrust forward, truculent.
“Not at the moment, but I never want to see you in my county again,” Yeager said. “You understand, you little asshole?”
“Fuck this. I’m calling my lawyer,” George hissed.
“Wait a sec, George, let’s hear him out,” Ace said.
“Or,” Yeager said, “we do this little trade. Real simple. You forget what
“Who gets the cigars?” George stepped forward and narrowed his eyes.
“What cigars?” Yeager turned and faced the highway.
Broker smiled and said, “Maybe you could spare a few, for sweetener.”
George’s scowl evaporated the more he thought about it. “Sounds good,” he said quickly. He immediately started loading the cigar boxes into the foot locker. Ace helped him load it in the back of the Lexus. Then George shut the hatch and handed two boxes to Broker. “Best fuckin’ cigars in the world.” He turned to Ace, shook his hand, and said, “Say hello to your dad when you see him.” Then George Khari got in his Lexus and drove east, toward the interstate.
As the taillights receded down the highway, Ace turned to the people standing in his high beams and said, “So what’s out here that calls for military helicopters and guys in ninja suits? Do I get an explanation?”
Nina and Jane exchanged glances. “Sorry, Ace,” Nina said.
Ace set his jaw. “I deserve an explanation.”
“Just take off, and keep your mouth shut,” Yeager said. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. I mean it.”
Ace decided not to push it. He ambled back to his Tahoe, got in, and drove west toward town. Soon he was laughing, shaking his head, and pounding the steering wheel. What a night.
Holly walked off alone and stood staring down the highway at something in the dark. Probably his imminent retirement. Broker figured it was not the best time to talk, so he joined Nina, who sat on the ground where Ace’s Tahoe had been parked, arms drooped between her knees. She shook her head. “That Rashid guy back in Detroit just shined us down the road. And we went for it.”
“We had no choice. Had to check it out. Had to be something going on up here for him to come up with a name, a place,” Jane said, sitting beside her.
“If there was, we missed it,” Nina said.
“Hey, cut yourself some slack,” Broker said “You ran a fast, tight operation. Just didn’t pan out. Human systems are like that. Flawed…Pretty goddamn funny, though, you got to admit. Delta commandos popping out of ditches. Locking and loading on Communist cigars.” He was chuckling as he opened one of the wooden boxes and extended it to Yeager. They selected cigars, nibbled off the plugs, and sat down alongside the women.
