‘Apparently so.’
‘I’ve been briefed to tell you that we’re really hoping that he’s going to give us some hot stuff, but personally I’ve no idea what that might be.’
‘Neither have I,’ Gerry replied.
‘Ok. But I’ve also been authorised to tell you that if your meeting doesn’t bring any results… well, you’re not to worry. Uncle Sam does not want to put your ass back into jail.’
‘Well thank your Uncle Sam very much from me, but I have a legal affidavit signed by the UK Home Secretary and scrutinised by a lawyer of my choice promising not to put my arse back in prison.’
‘Well that’s as maybe, but it might have occurred to you that we will be going to a piece of occupied territory outside of both the United States and the United Kingdom where the rules are somewhat ill-defined. After all, that’s why those people were put there in the first instance. It might have suddenly occurred to you that your ass may be exposed, if I might be permitted to perhaps over-extend the metaphor.’
‘Oh, I understand,’ said Gerry.
‘Ok, so no hard feelings?’ Grainger asked with a smile.
‘No, none at all.’
‘Ok, good, so let me tell you about the release program…’
An hour later Annie drove her back to the hotel. They chatted inconsequentially about Florida and the weather and London which Annie had visited several times.
‘How long have you been working with Felix Grainger?’ Gerry asked as they arrived back at the hotel.
‘Oh, for a year now. He’s one of the good guys. I hope you liked him,’ she said. She pulled to a stop outside the hotel entrance.
‘I did like him,’ said Gerry with some enthusiasm. ‘Thanks for driving me.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Gerry climbed out and shut the door but Annie slid down the window.
‘Oh, I forgot to mention it. We’re meeting for dinner this evening at the hotel. Seven o’clock in the bar.’
‘Ok thanks Annie; see you then.’ Gerry watched the black SUV drive out of the car park, pause for few seconds at the exit road before pulling out into the traffic and then she returned to her room. She switched on her computer with the intention of learning anything she could about Colonel Felix Grainger, Annie Maddon and Ryan Carson. The telephone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Ah, Miss Tate!’ Richard Cornwall’s fruity voice blared out from the earpiece. Gerry fumbled for the volume control and turned it down.
‘Good afternoon Mr. Cornwall.’
‘Hah! Late evening here of course. I understand you’ve met our mutual friend.’ Plainly he expected a favourable comment.
‘Felix Grainger? Yes I have. We should have an excellent working relationship.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it. He liked you very much, though at first he thought that you might be a bit of an awkward bitch. His words of course, not mine.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ Gerry replied. ‘Anyway this evening we’re meeting for dinner and tomorrow we’re off to Cuba.’
‘Ah, Gitmo, Camp Delta,’ Cornwall declared. Gerry presumed he was trying to demonstrate his knowledge.
‘That’s the place,’ she replied.
‘Ok Gerry, very good! Anyway, so the homeward travel arrangements are being finalised for Wednesday evening. I’ll be sending details of the arrival plans back at RAF Lyneham to your hotel via a messenger. Vince is at the hotel, too, I presume?’
‘Yes he’s here, but I’ve not seen him since this morning.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll send him an e-mail.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gerry showered and then gazed into the vanity mirror in the bathroom. It both magnified and illuminated her face and she contemplated the lines and other signs of middle age that had appeared during her years in prison. It was all very well growing older as part of a fulfilling life, but she had been forced to waste some of her best years in a meaningless existence. Now the euphoria of unexpected freedom was beginning to be displaced by her deep resentment towards the people who were responsible for her incarceration.
She felt a black, violent mood threatening to envelope her. On a few occasions in prison she had gone on destructive rampages or picked fights with her fellow inmates and ended up in solitary confinement. Perhaps after dinner tonight she would slip away from the others, find a bar, have a few drinks and then provoke some poor fool into attacking her. She gripped the mirror in both hands and was just about to wrench it off the wall but stopped herself. If she really wanted to have revenge, she should cooperate with everyone, try and work her way back into the secret world from which she had been ejected and then from the inside she might be able to find out the answers to all the questions that had bedevilled her when she was in prison. Getting herself stuck in a Florida gaol would be idiotic. Still, it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her mask of benevolence to all mankind.
She took a deep breath and applied make up with some care having gone so many years without using any, but after she had dressed she was still ready twenty minutes early. She looked at her watch and then flicked through the television channels wondering if there was anything which might entertain her for a while. The film “Groundhog Day” came on and she settled down to watch it but half a minute later it was interrupted by a commercial break. She clicked her tongue in irritation and switched the set off. She picked up her handbag, glanced in the mirror and with some irritation she noticed another grey hair. Soon she would need hair colour as well as spectacles or contact lenses. She plucked it out and then went down to the lobby bar. She ordered a dry white wine and sat down at a table from where she could keep the entire bar under observation.
Five minutes later she stared in round-eyed amazement when a familiar figure walked into the bar. Although his hair was longer than a military crew cut, the scar on Dan Hall’s face was unmistakeable. Her quick appraisal took in that he had aged well, he looked as fit as he had been all those years ago in the Gulf, but she noticed that his left hand was missing most of the little finger and the tip of the ring finger. ‘Distal phalanges,’ Gerry muttered to herself. She looked around for a newspaper or a menu to hide behind while she could consider her reaction to this remarkable reappearance. She glanced to one side and then the other and then back towards Dan Hall and their gazes locked. Gerry’s face was expressionless: Dan Hall showed astonishment then confusion which resolved into a huge smile and he walked over to her table. As he approached her, Gerry was preparing a straight denial of her knowing him as her best idea, but he said ‘Emily Stevens, it’s so good to see you! How are you, what brings you to Sarasota? It’s been such a long time. Are you still with the erm… you know.’
‘Dan Hall, well hello to you. No I’m not with the — erm you know — any longer. I’m here on holiday and I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes.’
‘But how are you? The last time I saw you, you were in hospital, and you were…’ his question trailed off. She saw him glancing at her left hand with neither engagement ring nor wedding band.
‘Yes I was pregnant, but I had a miscarriage. I’m fine. How are you?’
‘I’m good. I left the Marines after the war, and I’m in corporate security now. It’s great to see you again Emily.’
‘Yeah you too,’ said Gerry in as disinterested a tone as she could manage. She could see an expression approaching dismay on his face. It was with some relief that she saw Vince Parker walking across the bar towards them.
‘Hi Gerry, Hi Dan, I see you two have already met, so I’m going to get myself a beer.’
Dan Hall looked at Vince and then he stared at her in opened mouthed amazement. With an even mixture of disbelief and distress and surprise in his voice he asked ‘You’re Gerry Tate?’