“What do you know about Uncle Brian?”
Kane shrugged and looked away briefly before turning that gaze back his way. It was the same gaze Jack saw in the mirror every morning, the one that demanded an honest, if not thorough, answer. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he, Dad?”
Jack met him eye to eye, this boy who was almost a man. There was no sense in lying or trying to sugar-coat it. Kane was both clever and intelligent; he would see right through either.
“Yes.”
Kane nodded somberly. “Do what you have to do, Dad. I’ve got things here.”
Something passed between them. An unnamed awareness, perhaps. Respect and pride, definitely, on both sides.
Jack pressed a kiss to his eldest son’s head and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do.”
He left Kane and made his way down the stairs to find Kathleen in the kitchen, pouring him a cup of coffee for the road. As he embraced his wife and kissed her goodbye, a sense of déjà vu settled over him. Hadn’t he told her that they would never again have to do this? In doing this for his friend, his brother in every way that counted, was he breaking his word to his croie?
And just like all those years ago, there were no tears, no desperate pleas. Just unwavering faith.
“You will come back to me, Jack Callaghan,” she said emphatically. “And you will bring Brian back with you.”
“Aye,” he promised.
Traffic was light in the pre-dawn hours, and made the trip quicker than anticipated. He used the extra time to mentally prepare himself. The diner, located just off the interstate, was busy with activity. Hard-working truckers filled at least half the booths, while harried-looking waitresses bustled about with big, welcoming smiles and even bigger carafes of hot, black coffee.
Jack found a table in the back corner, one with a good view of the main entrance and the parking lot.
The plump, older server came by and filled his cup, leaving the copper-colored carafe on the table along with a handful of half-and-half creamers. Her nametag read “Mona”.
“You want the special, handsome?” she asked, peering down at him over a pair of half-moon bifocals, pad and paper in hand.
“Just coffee for now, thanks, Mona.”
She nodded and was gone, stopping to check on other tables before disappearing into the kitchen. It left Jack to study his surroundings more closely.
As meeting places went, it was a good one. Off the beaten path, but just barely. Public, yet crowded with those who knew how to mind their own business.
He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t Charlie Malone. His old friend scanned the place, his gaze knowingly going right to the back corner. A big smile lit his face as he made his way over.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah, probably,” Charlie grinned in ready agreement.
Jack stood and greeted his old friend. They’d gone through training together, but Jack hadn’t seen him since those first few months of deployment. Charlie looked older than he had then, though his eyes still glittered with the same mischief.
“I was expecting Sammy.”
“Yeah, well, when Sammy told me you called, I pulled rank.”
Jack suspected all along that Sammy wasn’t the brains behind the operation. The guy was a damn fine demolitions man, but he lacked vision and had a short fuse. Finding out that it was Charlie pulling the strings put an entirely different spin on things. While Jack’s gut had never completely trusted Sammy, Charlie was another story entirely. He wondered vaguely if Brian knew, and if so, why he hadn’t mentioned it.
“No,” Charlie said, answering Jack’s unspoken question (and further increasing Jack’s confidence in the process). “I prefer to remain in the shadows. I only emerge when the situation requires it. Or, as in this case, when I want to.”
Mona appeared out of nowhere with another mug, took Charlie’s order (he ordered a special for himself and Jack), then disappeared again before Jack could protest.
“So what the hell brings you to this neck of the woods?” Jack said. “I thought you were a Midwestern boy.”
“I am,” Charlie agreed. “But I like the mountains around here. Thinking of buying some land, building a remote cabin away from the rest of the world for when I retire. Or maybe go underground. I have some ideas for a fully functional, self-contained shelter when shit inevitably hits the fan someday. And it will.” He tapped his temple with his index finger.
“Good plan,” Jack said. He’d often dreamed of doing the same thing himself. His father used to bring him hunting around here when he was a kid, first week of deer season, without fail. A lot of the forested land was state game lands, but there were always parcels available if you knew the right people and had enough cash.
“Business must be good, then,” Jack said, lifting the mug to his lips.
“Aye, it is at that,” Charlie said. “So what are you doing with yourself these days, Jack?”