“And?”
“Look at her, Mac. Jewel’s a prisoner. And she still misses her sister.”
“But didn’t her sister die in—?”
“Nineteen twenty-one. Her name was Hattie. She got sick and they shot her. Right in front of Jewel.”
“And she . . . Jewel . . . still remembers that?”
Yanni nodded.
MacCready gestured toward a large metal door, behind which a second elephant, Betsy, was trumpeting and rattling its chains. “What about her playmate back there?”
“Jewel says she’s an asshole.”
“Well that’s tough,” Mac replied.
“Very tough, Mac . . . tough to lose someone so close; to watch them die so horribly. So unexpectedly.”
MacCready said nothing, his mind drifting, but Yanni interrupted him. He felt her arm encircle his waist.
“It must have been terrible for Hattie’s friends, too,” she added, sadly.
Major Hendry reached into his desk and withdrew the bottle MacCready knew he kept handy for situations like this. “Well, ain’t that a pip?”
Mac sat quietly.
“She talks to elephants, too?” Hendry said, producing his signature shot glasses, before pouring them each a measure of the dark liquid. “Well then here’s to . . . Jewel and Hattie.”
“And Betsy the asshole,” Mac said. He picked up the glass but didn’t drink, noticing that Hendry didn’t, either. Here it comes, he thought.
“I’m thinkin’ that little talent Yanni’s got might come in handy on this next mission, Mac. And this time you two could be dealing with something bigger than bats.”
Mac put down the glass. “What? Yanni’s not going anywhere.”
“No? Well, maybe you should tell her that yourself,” Hendry said, before rapping on the outer wall of his office. Before Mac could settle into rant mode, the door opened and Yanni entered.
“Ya see, it’s all been arranged, Mac,” Hendry said.
MacCready, still wearing a shocked expression, turned to the woman. “What’s all this about, Yanni? What about your apartment? What about Jewel?”
“The apartment will keep, Mac,” Hendry answered for her. “Plants watered, et cetera, et cetera.”
“And Jewel?”
“She’ll be with her sister soon,” Yanni said.
“But—”
“I’m going, Mac.”
MacCready’s eyes ticked back and forth between his friends. Chins raised in assurance, they smiled simultaneously.
“And this calls for another toast,” Hendry called out, cheerfully.
“Got that right,” Yanni said, taking the whiskey-filled shot glass the major offered her.
This time, R. J. MacCready raised his glass.
Reality Check