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“Except I can’t use it. No, I think I’ll go down to Florida. I owe my parents a visit. They live in a retirement complex. My mother is undergoing cancer treatments, and my dad suffers from early stages of dementia.”
“Perfect! Use his phone,” Jordan said with a smile.
Dimitri felt betterabout at least visiting his parents, but he wasn’t happy about getting his father into trouble with the State Department. He wouldn’t be a very reliable witness, anyhow, and probably would not have any recollection of him borrowing his phone. He’d love to sit in on that interview. He’d seen people like that before on the hot seat. Only frustrated the interviewer, never the suspect. Everything taken down had to be deemed unreliable and usually was worthless. Could never consider any part of their interview as truth. Good intel was based only on truth. Otherwise, people died.
Still, for all the Hell his dad was putting his mother through, it would serve him right. Karma was indeed a strange, angry bitch. Better still, the sisters would have strong opinions in every direction about it. It would be a good source of fodder for the next thirty days, if it happened that fast.
As long as it couldn’t point back to Dimitri or Moira, that’s all he cared about.
He really didn’t think anyone would come knocking. He’d tell his dad a bedtime story, like he used to when he first was on the Team, making up things they did overseas. He liked to live vicariously through Dimitri. His dad always told him he came from a long line of Greek patriots, never on the right side of history and most of their exploits got them killed and never saved anybody. But they were still patriots, freedom fighters. And his dad loved what his son signed up for.
“The best of the best. A real frog man!”
He was always asking him what kind of equipment he used and, for some reason, zeroed in on the flippers, what they were made out of, and how long they lasted. Dimitri hadn’t used a pair, didn’t own his own pair, for years, other than in training. And even then, no more than once every other year.
But to his dad, flippers made the man.
He made it home, gathered things he’d need in a suitcase this time, so he could bring some disassembled firepower, ammo, a vest, some NV goggles, and scopes. He wished he had room for the mini-drone “Coop” Cooper custom made for him.
He informed the guard to log in that he’d be gone for a week and watch for any further intrusion into his place. Informed him there wouldn’t be any mail and no one had access to his place unless he gave permission later.
“Where are you going?”
“Got some family things to take care of. My mom’s sick.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll be praying for her. Where does she live?”
“California,” he lied.
“Oh, nice out there this time of year. Not LA, though. Hope it’s not LA.”
“Up north. Wine Country.”
“Nice! Well, have a good time, and try to relax and enjoy that spot. Good place to get your mom’s illness out of your head.”
“That’s exactly what I plan on doing. See you next week. Oh, and if the management needs to talk to me about Wendell or that thing yesterday, they can call on my cell. They have the number.”
“Understood. We do too. Have a safe flight.”
He never drove anywhere, so his Hummer was dusty but otherwise spotless. He transferred his sidearm to the bolted box on the floor, since he’d be traveling through un-friendly territories where conceal carry wasn’t the law of the land. Although he had a right to carry, he didn’t want the hassle. But if he needed it, he’d have it. And not in some duty bag that could be stolen.
The beast roared to life and leapt from the underground garage and onto the street, narrowly missing a delivery van. He cranked up the music and inserted his noise-cancelling earpods that allowed him to hear important sounds in the cab. It was likea viper’s nest inside the thing, dark-tinted windows all around, except for the sunroof, which was covered and locked. On the back windshield, he had a small Punisher logo on the bottom left, black on the blackout windows, matching the dulled black Hummer’s exterior.
He drove straight through with little traffic. Too early for vacationers, too late for spring breakers or college dorm closures. The closer he got to Florida, the brighter the sky got, and he was grateful for the tinted windows.
He checked his phone for messages. All State employees were given attachment scramblers for their phones so their whereabouts couldn’t be tracked. Other than Jordan, no one in the world knew he was headed to Florida. Even his mom or dad.
He meandered through the shady older neighborhood with wide streets and huge oak trees decorated in hanging grey-green moss. Landscapers were trimming, but using chainsaws and other powered tools to fend off the rapid growth the Tropics brought.
Their entry gate had a buzzer and speakerphone, but that had broken years ago. The gate also didn’t lock, so he pushed it open and drove inside, parking by the front door. His mom’s Prius was parked in front of the garage doors, looking like it hadn’t been washed in a year or more. Two other vehicles sat perpendicular to the front porch. He assumed these belonged to the sisters, who were now staying with his folks indefinitely.
He ran back to the gate and closed it, then jogged to the front door, and listened before knocking.
It was another argument, and his dad was losing terribly. He sounded much more old and feeble, which made Dimitri sad. But it was good news for the mission at hand. Of course, he didn’t like the family drama, but he did owe them a respectful visit. Their good days were going to be few and far between as the years progressed. Maybe even faster than that.
He knocked, and the shouting stopped immediately. Little footsteps, probably Mom’s youngest sister with the size three shoe, came the door.
He was right.
