The Camel Club

“Because the sex we had, oh, my Lord. But not any orgies or anything like that, honey. I mean you’re talking about government people, public servants, and it’s hard to get up early and work those long hours after sex orgies. It takes it out of you, it really does.”

Alex suddenly realized his mouth had opened wider and wider as he listened to her. He quickly closed it. “So, uh, Kate lives in the carriage house?”

“I’ve wanted her to move in here — the place has eight bedrooms, after all — but she won’t. She likes her space, all women do. And she can come and go as she wants.” She patted his leg. “So this is your first date with her. That’s sweet. Where’re you going?”

“I’m not sure. Kate picked the place.”

She gripped his hand again and looked directly into his eyes. “Okay, honey, let me give you some advice. Even the modern woman likes the man to take charge every once in a while. So next time you pick the place. Be decisive about it. Women hate men who can’t make up their minds.”

“Okay, but how do I know when else she wants me to take charge?”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ll just screw it up like every other man does.”

Alex cleared his throat. “So does she date a lot?”

“Okay, you want the 411 on Kate, don’t you, honey? Well, Kate only brings someone around every few months. Nobody’s stuck yet but don’t let that discourage you. She usually brings home some fancy-pants lawyer, lobbyist or big-shot government type. Now, you’re the first man with a gun she’s brought here,” she added in an encouraging tone. “You are packing heat, aren’t you?” she asked hopefully.

“Would that be a good thing?”

“Honey, all civilized women throw their underwear at dangerous men. We just can’t help ourselves.”

He grinned, opened his coat and showed her his gun.

She clapped her hands together. “Oh, that is so thrilling.”

“Hey, Lucky, get away from my man.”

They both turned around and saw a smiling Kate Adams standing in the doorway leading into the next room. She had on a pleated black skirt that ended midthigh, a white blouse open at the neck and sandals. Alex realized he’d never seen her legs before; she always wore pants at the bar. She gave Lucky a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I have been entertaining your beau while you made yourself beautiful, my dear,” Lucky said. “Not that it takes that much effort for you. Oh, it’s just not fair, Kate. Not even the best plastic surgeon in the world could give me your cheekbones.”

“You liar. The men were always gaga over Lucky Whitney. And they still are.”

Lucky smiled at Alex and said in a very coy tone, “Well, I have to admit, this young man did show me his piece, Kate. I bet you haven’t had that pleasure yet.”

Kate looked surprised. “His piece? No, I haven’t seen it yet.”

His expression one of horror, Alex jumped up so fast he spilled some of his drink on the couch. “My gun! I showed her my gun.”

“That’s right, that’s what he called it. His gun,” Lucky said, smiling impishly. “Now, where are you two going for dinner?”

“Nathan’s,” Kate answered.

Lucky raised her eyebrows. “Nathan’s?” She gave Alex a thumbs-up. “That’s where she takes the ones with real potential.”

CHAPTER

40

“REUBEN,” STONE CALLED OUT from his perch in the sidecar. “We have some time yet. Can we stop in at Arlington Cemetery?”

Reuben looked over at the nation’s most hallowed burial place for its military dead and nodded.

A few minutes later they passed through the visitors’ entrance and walked past the Women in Military Service Memorial. They paused for a moment near the Kennedy graves, Arlington’s biggest visitor draw, with the changing of the guard at the Tombs of the Unknowns a close second.

Continuing on, Reuben stopped and gazed at a stretch of grass near Arlington House. It had once been Robert E. Lee’s home but had been confiscated by the federal government after Lee had chosen to lead the Confederate army against the Union.

“Isn’t that where you found me, stoned outta my head?”

Stone looked at the spot. “It was a long time ago, Reuben. You pulled yourself out of it. You fought off your demons.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Oliver.” He paused and looked around at all the white tombstones. “I was just so damn pissed off. I lost half my company from Nam to Agent Orange, and the army wouldn’t even admit they’d done it. And then the same thing happened with the Persian Gulf syndrome. I just wanted to come here and scream, make somebody listen.”

“It’s probably best that you passed out when you did. The secretary of defense was here that day; it might’ve gotten ugly.”

Reuben gazed curiously at his friend. “You know, I never asked you what you were doing at the cemetery that day.”

“Just like everyone else, I was there to pay my respects.”

Stone stopped at one area and silently counted down the rows of white headstones until he came to one near the middle. He stood, his arms folded across his chest, while the setting sun burned down into the horizon. Reuben checked his watch but seemed reluctant to interrupt his friend.

Stone’s solitude was finally halted by a group of men passing nearby. He watched as they headed toward the newest expansion of Arlington Cemetery and one that was not yet completed. It was the 9/11 memorial site that abutted the grounds of the cemetery. The site included a signature monument to the lives that were lost at the Pentagon, and a memorial grove.

Stone stiffened when he saw who was in the center of the wall of armed security. Reuben glanced over too.

“Carter Gray,” Reuben muttered.

“Here to see his wife, I would assume,” Stone said quietly. “Before the crowds come tomorrow.”

Carter Gray stopped at the gravesite of his wife, Barbara, knelt on the ground and placed a small bouquet of flowers on the recessed earth. Technically, the anniversary of his wife’s death was tomorrow, but the cemetery would be filled that day, and, as Stone had deduced, the man had no desire to share his grief with a mass of strangers.

Gray rose and stared down at where his wife’s body lay, while his security detail kept a respectful distance away.

Barbara Gray had retired from the army as a brigadier general after a distinguished career in which she set many firsts for women in the military. Barbara Gray had also been one of the most vocal advocates for members of the World War II-era WASPs, or Women’s Air Force Service Pilots, to be eligible to receive burial at Arlington with full military honors, something denied to them because they were summarily disbanded after the war. In June of 2002 a new regulation allowed a number of women’s military groups, including the WASPs, to at least be buried with the more limited funeral, instead of full, military honors. Unfortunately, Barbara Gray had not lived to see it happen.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, Barbara Gray, then a civilian consultant, was meeting at the Pentagon on a project with two members of the army when the American Airlines flight slammed into the building, obliterating the room she was in. As an appalling footnote to this tragedy, the Grays’ daughter, Maggie, a government lawyer, had just arrived at the Pentagon to meet her mother. Her body was virtually cremated in the initial explosion.