The Albanian turned back toward them. “Have a good night, gentlemen. Insha’Allah.”
“Yeah,” Marcus replied. “Stay warm out there.”
The bell above the door jangled loudly as it closed behind the two. Marcus and Linus heard the Tanana Valley truck start up. A moment later, the Albanian electricians sped off into the night on the highway, heading back toward Fairbanks. Marcus and Linus sat in silence as the sound of the truck faded.
“So, Marcus,” Linus asked, “Did you get what they said? I only remember bits and pieces of those European languages, but that sounded like Yugoslavian or something. Am I close?”
“Albanian,” replied the retired Marine.
“Albanian? Isn’t that your main military language?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what did they say?”
“They’re going to cut your balls off and sell you as a eunuch to an Arab sheik.”
“Excuse me?” Linus’s eyes widened. “I think Cara would have something to say about that.”
“Actually, they were talking about me.” Marcus took a mouthful of his stew. “They’re up to something. They talked about finishing a job.”
Linus crossed his arms over his chest. “Think we should call the cops?”
“Yep.”
Linus reached for the phone and added, “In my humble opinion, it sounds like they’re a couple of Tangos.”
“Well, the problem would be getting cops to believe a report about terrorists in Salt Jacket.” Marcus set down his spoon. “Give me your phone, though. They nearly ran me over on Johnson Road. I got the number from the side of the truck. I’ll call the cops and report them for reckless driving. We can see what turns up.”
Linus handed the wireless phone and reached across to hand it to Marcus. He froze when the sound of truck tires crunched on the gravel-strewn snow of the parking lot. Bright beams of light shot through the window next to the cash register as a large pickup truck pulled in to the first parking space near the door.
The engine idled with a deep rumble for several seconds, then went quiet. A moment later, the lights turned off, then a door slammed shut. Boots crunched on the snow and advanced onto the wooden step of the entry landing.
Marcus tensed his body. He gripped the small bread knife in his right hand so that the blade was flush against his forearm. Linus reached under the register and put his hand on the custom Pachmyr grip of the .357 magnum pistol stored on a shelf immediately under the cash drawer.
A single, unidentifiable shadow of a man appeared briefly in the glass of the window set in the top half of the door. The door swung open loudly, jangling the bell that hung just above the top of the jamb.
The man looked up. “Good even…”
A startled look spread on his face when he saw Marcus. It was quickly replaced with a broad smile.
“Well, I’ll be. Marcus Johnson. What in the world are you doing back home?”
Marcus and Linus instantly relaxed.
“Evening, sir,” Marcus said, putting the knife back down beside his bowl of stew. “I’m here to stay now, retired.”
Linus released the pistol.
“That’s good, real good.” Eugene reached out and shook Marcus’s hand in his. “Linus, whatever Marcus is eating there, put it on my bill.” He looked at Marcus with an expression of proud satisfaction, as if the younger man were his own son.
“I can’t let you do that!” Marcus objected. Eugene held up a hand to silence the protest. “Don’t try to be all polite and crap, young man. You may be a retired Marine superhero and whatnot, but I’ll still kick your butt if you refuse. Your dad was my best friend; I’m doing it in his honor.”
Marcus could not argue with that. “Thanks.”
The older man sat on a stool next to Marcus. “So, you are retired, huh? Must be nice at such a young age.”
Marcus swallowed a spoonful of the still-steaming stew, then answered, “Yes, sir. I’m retired from the Corps, and here to stay. No more war for me. Linus and Cara managed to save fifty acres of our land from the creditors after Dad died. I set up in Grandpa Johnson’s old cabin at six mile last summer.”
“You’ve been here since summer and didn’t come to call?” Eugene scolded.
Linus set a cup of coffee in front of Eugene. The older man nodded his thanks and lifted the white porcelain cup to his lips to take a sip as Marcus replied, “Sorry I didn’t contact you. I’ve just been so busy making the old place livable, and, to be honest, I had a lot to sort out and really didn’t want to see anybody.”
“I understand, son. Well, at any rate, it’s good to have you back, and all in one piece.”
Eugene took another sip of the strong black coffee. He turned and spoke in a nearly whispered voice. “Does Lonnie know you’re back?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t get in touch with her, that is. I don’t think it would be a good idea to interfere.”
“Interfere?” Eugene asked, screwing up his eyes in confusion. “With what?”
“She’s a married woman,” Marcus replied. “I don’t want to be the one to cause any problems in a happily married couple’s life.”
Eugene sat up straight with an incredulous look on his face. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“That idiot left her two years ago. He took off with some young Air Force tramp about half his age.” Eugene was clearly still angry regarding his former son-in-law. His tone of voice practically eviscerated the man in effigy. “I never did like that boy. He was a walking example of head-stuck-in-rectum syndrome.”
“I didn’t know,” Marcus said. He turned a sharp gaze on Linus.
“Hey, bro, I was going to tell you, but,” the shopkeeper stammered, “it just wasn’t the right time.”
Marcus turned back to his stew. He spooned up a large piece
