Thicker than Water

THICKER THAN WATER

By J.D. Carpanzano

Dedicated to my two daughters who inspired this book and are
the focus of my life.

Chapter 1

Jake Capra tried to shake away the sleep as he reached for the phone. A soft voice greeted him, "Mr. Capra? Front desk, this is your wake up call." "Thank you." He muttered in a deep gravel morning voice. Swinging his legs from the bed he held his temples for a moment, they ached from a couple too many scotches the night before and not enough sleep. As he dressed in his, off the rack size 46 regular, blue suit, he could not help wondering why CIA Director William E. Colburt had called in all the International Response Teams for a "Highly sensitive" meeting, a day time meeting at that. Normally the IRT boys flew into Dulles or Andrews at night, inconspicuously settled their business in one of the sub-sub basements of the Langley office building and left just as delicately before the office workers alarms even went off. Jake liked that arrangement chiefly because he loathed Washington and politicians who inhabited the place, especially since the Carter administration was gleefully disemboweling the agency he called his home.

Looking out to the right over the Potomac as he drove up to Langley from Arlington the radio played “I love you more today” by Spiral Staircase triggering thoughts of his wife and daughters back in New York. "That is just no place to raise my children." He pondered as he pushed back his thinning black hair, "particularly since I'm gone so much." A car horn and a waive from a side street jolted him back to the moment. He automatically waived back realizing moments later that it had been his old friend Pat Buchanan headed for his own office. He and Pat had become close friends during the Nixon administration but since Watergate, President Ford was “forced” to make drastic changes in the White House Staff, and they had not seen each other since. "Call Pat and Shelley tonight!" He scribbled on a three by five card from his breast pocket as he signaled to turn into the gates of the Puzzle Palace.

Parking lot security and building check points were tedious at best, but striding across the terrazzo emblem in the main lobby made his heart swell with pride every time. Rounding the corner to the secured elevators he felt compelled to take a glance back at the emblem and flag he held in such high esteem. A Marine in dress blues posted on the corridor gave Jake a snappy salute, Jake returned it as proudly “morning' Max.” Jake muttered flashing his I.D. “Sir!” Retorted the statuesque soldier, holding the door to one of the down elevators for Capra, where yet another Marine waited. “Sir?” Queried the second soldier. “Three please.” Responded Jake. “Yes Sir!” Barked the operator. They stood silently as the apparatus jolted downward toward the highest security levels of the building. A second jolt signaled they had arrived, the doors slowly opened revealing a corridor full of bustling agents scurrying to their appointed posts. Entering one of the many sealed, sound proof conference rooms in the CIA building he was puzzled to see one of the large roll around shredders, one of the ones that eats paper clips and all, positioned at the head of the table. Most all the IRT teams were seated about the long, large oak table. After some polite nods and smiles he took his place with his team. The back door of the conference room opened, Jake looked at his Grandfather’s old Omega watch, 7:00 am, Director Colburt was a stickler for punctuality. The director entered, followed by an aide carrying a large box of files marke IRT’s in red copiusly stamped “Eyes Only”, "Good morning." The director said loudly as most of the group imitated a movement to stand. The Director waived his arm, "Sit, sit, let's get down to the matter at hand. ‘Thank you.” He said to his aide nodding, "that will be all." Dismissing him in his abrupt but polite manner as he took his place standing at the head of the nearly infinite table.

"Gentlemen," he began without any notes, he never used notes, "yesterday in a meeting with President Carter and others of this administration, I was informed that this agency will be closely monitored. The former administration was results oriented, whereas this bunch, excuse me, this leadership is concerned with image. Our budget is being drastically cut, all operations will have to be personally approved by the President himself. These are dark times my boys. I will be resigning as Director as soon as I clear up some of the special situations within the agency." A murmur of surprise moved like a wave over the assembly. "This, gentlemen, is one of those special situations," he continued trying to force a smile. Jake suddenly sensed what was coming, his head seemed to flush with a rush of blood.

"If what the International Response Team unit’s actual purpose ever becomes public knowledge, we will all be playing who picks up the soap a lot longer than G. Gordon and his pals.” He paused a moment. “These are your personal files gentlemen," he opened the box in front of him, "I regret to inform you all, that these IRT units have never existed," he announced as he lifted the first files out. "Further more, not one of you ever worked for, or engaged in any activity with this agency." He said as he dropped the first couple of files into the shredder. The grinding of the machine drowned out some of the comments flowing from man to man but not loud enough to muffle the outburst by near renegade team leader Matt Hold’s single resounding "son of a bitch!" "I'll have none of that!" Shouted Colburt. "You will all be entitled to your appropriate benefits and your new permanent records will be amended to show that you were employed by various government agencies other than this one." Jake had never seen Bill Colburt shake, but the man was noticeably upset as he dropped the files in to the monster before him. The IRT units were a favored unit of Bill's, not being part of the beaurocratic morass that is Washington he knew they could quickly and reliably get any job done by deploying one or all of the five teams when situations of international significance arose. Capra’s team were the first on the ground at Entebbe, hours before the Israelis arrived. Hold’s team wiped out the terrorists known as Al Fata in Israel in a short few hours. This was Colbert’s pet project since WW II, this was his family, they were his sons.

Jake sat rigid with shock, transfixed by the burn bag below the shredder filling rapidly with the scraps of men's lives. He did not even hear the Director ask for his I.D.credentials, he merely gave it up mechanically as visitor's passes were exchanged as replacements. Director Colburt turned to the group as the last file buckled in the shredder rollers, "Gentlemen, my sincere regrets to all of you and your families. This concludes our meeting, good luck to you all." Jake pushed his chair back slowly, somewhat dazed he stood up using both hands on the table for support. Mike Powell, one of the other IRT Unit leaders, instinctively gave Jake a helping hand saying, "This is incredible Jake, the U.S. has had it's collective balls cut off by a peanut farmer, and he doesn't even carry a knife!"

Pushing open the door from the conference room Jake pulled away from his former associate saying, "Mike I've got to call New York, my wife... the girls..." "Jake! Jake! We don't work here, remember? We can't use the phones." "Yeah, I know." He responded as they rounded the corner, running head long into Bob Bair, a young researcher who he had worked with on many Middle East projects. Bair smiled slyly as he thumbed the "Visitor" tag jokingly asking, "what the hell is this, and what tricks are you guys up to now?" "Shut up Bob!" Mike fired back, "We've all been transferred!" "What the hell?" Exclaimed the researcher. "Bob, I need a phone, right now!" Jake demanded. "Sure Jake, c'mon use my office." His friend motioned toward another door, once inside Bair silently twisted the latch to lock. He lifted the receiver, punched in a series of access codes for a protected line and pushed the receiver toward Jake. Nervously Jake touched the numbers for his home, before the first ring he hung up. "What?" Asked Mike. "What the hell do I tell her? How do I explain what the hell has happened here today?" Jake pleaded with his friends. "I don't know, I was hoping I could get an idea from you." shouted Mike. "Calm down you two," exclaimed Bob, "What the hell has happened here?" Mike and Jake demanded Bair's oath of silence and then related the morning events in half tones and whispers, they left Bob seated at his desk in stunned, in wide eyed silence. It was not yet 9:00am.

Driving back to the hotel Capra's brain hammered out contradictions of honor, respect, hate and anger toward a government he had given so much to. His mind seemed to dwell on the events that brought him here. As an American of Italian descent he had borne the burden of the organized crime legacy his many uncles had tried so hard to leave him. His own father, a respected physician in his own right had his minor distant ties to the mob. The hospital he directed was operated by the Sisters of Mary Magdeline on 3rd Ave in New York was the favored place for the “wise guy’s” do their healing and mending. Bearing this guilt Jake enlisted in the Army three days out of high school. His own drive to achieve excellence was readily apparent. Army Intelligence wanted him almost immediately, but first he chose Airborne and Special Forces training. His combat experience was not just limited toVietnam, included Cambodia, Laos and covert Air America ops. He could almost smell the black spray paint he used to turn standard green fatigues into camouflage, Special Operations Group had no real uniforms, no insignias, nothing and for years they were little more than a rumor until after the war. Then after Vietnam he found his lovely Dyan, but then there was the Congo, Central Africa and South America which all needed to be saved from the Siberian Bear. Most of that cleaned up to American satisfaction the Middle East reared its ugly head and forced Jake to take up the Israeli cause. Secret wars being waged by secret people under a black cloak sheilded from view by a banner of starrs and stripes was waged in complete annonymity. Too many triangular folded flags given to too many mothers and wives, some folded by Capra himself had made him bitter toward Kennedy, Johnson and even Nixon for letting it start and go on at all. Today his flag had been taken away from him again, the one he had quietly, secretly and honorably defended for more that 12 years. Once again, no insignias, no unit patches, but by an act of the director and a roll of the shredder wheels his life had been all but erased. He gripped the steering wheel tighly in anger as a single tear formed in one eye and slowly trickled down his dark cheek.

Back at the hotel, he turned in the rental car, packed his bag but still was not able to formulate what he would say to his wife Dyan. He and Mike shared a taxi to Dulles, Mike nattered on about his own uncle in the insurance industry in Atlanta and how he would go to work for him. Equally he reveled in the thought of how he was finally free of his adopted uncle (the peanut farmer). "Why don't you come to Atlanta and work for my Uncle Leonard with me?" he happily asked, "I'll bet Dyan will be thrilled you are out of this, I know my Monica will be." "Mike, you and I were in the primary number one IRT Unit, we've worked together since, what, 1967? Insurance? Insurance sales is for ass-holes!" Responded Capra with a foul expression and a near sneer of disgust. Mike, always the joker, laughed at his anger saying, "you better call me, or you'll be saying, 'I remember him when...' but then again The Director said we'd better not remember anything. Right?" "Yea, OK, I'll call, say Hi to Monica, I gotta split." Conceded Jake. Stepping from the cab he threw some money at Mike for his part of the ride and entered the east end of the terminal, Mike would continue to the west end for his flight.

The New York shuttle was jam packed, as usual. Angrily he took his previous orders and the ticket to Tel Aviv from his pocket, nearly tore it but reasoned reluctantly that this was tax payer money and he would get a refund to the agency. The short flight to New York was filled with brain smashing confusion for Capra. Arriving at LaGuardia he couldn't help thinking that the world's toilets dumped out in this airport. The smell of urine permeated the building. Dozens of seedy, sweaty third world types lined the hall holding name cards waiting for passengers to arrive. Aching to call home he stopped at a phone booth, the coin slot was clogged with gum, trying the next he found the receiver missing, he gave up. "Nothing works in this filthy fucking city." He muttered out loud as he made his way to the street and waived a taxi down.

Throwing his bags in ahead of him he nearly fell in to the seat of a ratty looking Checker Cab, it was almost dusk when they pulled away from the terminal. As the cab wound its way along the L.I.E. and on to the Whitestone Bridge toward his home in the Bronx he realized he had spent all the time trying to mentally pronounce the driver's name. "Yes it is fourteen letters long and there was only one vowel in it, so? You speak six languages, what the hell does it sound like?" He asked himself as they pulled up in front of his two story brownstone. "Here you go pal," he said, offering a wad of money to the olive skinned man behind the wheel, "Hey! How do you pronounce that?" He asked. With a thick unrecognizable accent "Smith, ass-hole." responded the driver. "God! I love New York!" Jake said loudly slamming the door of the cab hard as the sky flashed with distant lightening signaling an approaching storm.

Chapter 2

"Daddy! Daddy!" He could hear as he turned the key in the lock. "No! No! Get back, Daddy won't be back for a while. Get away from the door! I have a gun!" Screamed his wife. "It IS Daddy! and I know you don't have a gun honey!" Shouted Capra. "Jake?" Dyan exclaimed with a joyous uncertain giggle in her voice. Using his bags as a ram he shoved the door open, then quickly dropping them, as suddenly and simultaneously two little imps dressed in pink pajama jumpsuits leapt from the fourth step of the staircase in to his arms. Andra five and, Vicky two, deftly launched themselves from the fourth step landing firmly on their father's chest. He desperately grabbed for them, nearly knocking him back through the stained glass of the front door as it closed behind him. Dyan, looking tired but very lovely, she was busy arranging her long blonde hair exclaimed almost tearfully, "Jake, you're home! I didn't expect you for at least a week!" She dashed from the mid point in the hall to let him hold all three of them.

Once the excitement had died down, the girls settled restlessly in bed, Jake realized that in all his trips this was the first time he had not brought back a gift for anyone. He always brought a small gift, first for Dyan, before the children, then something for her and Andra, and eventually for all three. Dyan seemed to sense the tension from the onset. "Honey, what's wrong?" She queried, "You have that focused stare of yours." Her stylish English accent and calm demeanor soothed Jake's pounding temples as the storm outside drew closer. They skipped dinner and spent most of the night on the couch discussing the day's events, Dyan sipping Cream Sherry, Jake slamming scotch after scotch. Dyan was crushed, she tearfully tried to console Jake but her inherent apprehension seeped through her words. Jake kept repeating, "It'll be all right. I'll find a place in the private sector." Dyan with typical veiled British lack of emotion and ever practical, asked after retirement plans, separation packages and most emphatically the girls college funds. The scotch began to take effect along with a day of stress and disappointment, Jake became belligerent and began lecturing Dyan about her unnecessary panic, "Look damn it! There are plenty of jobs out there, I speak six fucking languages, I could get a job at the U.N. as an interpreter or something. I’ve had it! Its been a long day so lets go upstairs I'm tired!" They quietly skulked up to the bed room, there was another clap of thunder. Tears trickled on to Dyan's cheeks as Jake drunkenly forced himself on her. "This is not making love, this is anger, dissapointment and alcohol." She thought to herself half gritting her teeth wishing for it to end, but this cut ran deeper than either would realize for years.

The next few weeks Jake accomplished very little. The loss of his position at the agency weighed heavily on him, furthermore the separation package gave him the flexibility to not be bother to accomplish anything. It didn't take Dyan long to start up with the "honey do this and honey do that" lists, soon followed by gentle needling to start looking for work. The needling rapidly gave way to demands and near mandates to a "find something to do with yourself!” Soon Jake too became restless, Atlanta appealed to him and it would be a great place to raise the girls he reasoned but, "insurance sales is for ass holes" resoundingly echoed in his rattled mind. Nonetheless a dwindling bank account, combined with another smashed window on the family Volvo and a fourth stolen radio confirmed his decision to get out of New York.

With the apprehension of a defenseless impala preparing to drink from a crocodile infested river during a drought, Jake cautiously approached the phone and dialed Mike Powell's number. Each touch of the keys was a death sentence to him, as the phone toned off the digits he agonized over what he would say. First one ring then another "may be he's not home." Jake begged in his mind, then someone answered, "Hello." "Hey Mike, Jake here, what's shakin'?" "Man, I knew you'd call!" Mike responded. "Well Mike" Jake began, "I... I ... " "You reconsidered, right?" Mike interrupted. "Yeah, but I'm just not sure." Jake stammered. "Look, my uncle Leonard is making a killing selling this insurance shit, it's like a license to print your own money, believe me." Mike made his pitch enthusiastically. By the end of the conversation Jake had consented to a short visit with Mike and an interview with his uncle.

The flight to Atlanta was quite routine except for the proud chubby grandmother reeking of a gallon of Chantilly Jake was condemned to sit next to. This was one time he wished he had not asked for the window seat. She had him captive blocking access to the aisle and with volumes of photos and stories of her six grandchildren. Each was smarter than the other, each was growing faster and taller than her own children had in their youth. Jake needed to think. The hour and forty minute flight was sheer agony, his sanity was truly being tested. The thought of working in the insurance field terrified him, the blue haired woman terrorized him and the drinks anesthetized him. Soon he heard the flaps open to one quarter, tipping off the experienced traveler the landing was near. “Thank God.” He thought, “fifteen more minutes.” Soon he heard the flaps go to one half and the gear lowered loudly. Within moments there was a welcomed bump and tump at touchdown and the reverse thrusters announced themselves with a deafaning roar. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please keep your seat belts fastened until the plane comes to a complete stop at the terminal." A pleasant voice announced over the intercom. "Thank you for flying Eastern Airlines to Atlanta, we hope you have had a pleasant flight the temperature is 78' with light rain." He half snapped out of his self induced trance as the old woman packed up her display cases still nattering on about her offspring’s offsprings. The smell of Chantilly had permeated his clothing.

The plane jolted to a halt, a scruffy looking man with long black hair, a full beard and mustache was already standing blocking his way to the aisle. He could hear the jetway motors as a ramp attendant guided it toward the front door, followed by the high pitched whine of the jetway seal motors as they worked to keep the rain out. Finally he was able to wedge his way into the line as it flowed from the plane like a long Chinatown paper dragon. "Thank you." "Thank you." Repeated each of the flight attendants as the throng filed past. Jake was a bit tipsy and nearly fell as he stepped of the plane, "Damn it!" He exclaimed, realizing the jetway was six inches too low. Using his carry on bag to rebalance himself, he half walked and half stumbled up the walkway toward the terminal. "Hey! Jake!" He heard Mike shout over the din of the terminal, off to his left he saw his friend frantically waiving him over. "C'mon man! I'm parked in a yellow zone, let's boogie." Mike said grabbing Jake's carry on, "You got any other stuff?" "Yeah." Jake replied. "Shit! Look, you go to the carrousel and get your bags, I'm gonna' go move the car before they tow it." His friend exclaimed as he scrambled through the crowd. "Meet ya' out front." Mike shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. Jake waived, gave his friend a thumbs up, then the finger. "Insurance." He thought to himself again.

Out in the car Mike rambled on about his Uncle Leonard and how much he was knocking down every week. Jake lit another cigarette and admired the little electric wing windows in Mike's new Town Car. "I like these." He said as he ran it up and down, over and over. "Hey! Don't do that. That window's fucked up man." "Ok, Ok, sorry." Jake apologized taking a long draw on the short stubby unfiltered Lucky Strike. They drove like the wind for about a half hour then Mike eased the car into the driveway of a huge palatial home. "You live here?" Jake queried. "Yeah man, what do ya think?" Asked Powell. "Shit! How much?" Jake exclaimed. "Ha! This house up your way would be three hundred grand, here, one ten!" Mike responded gloatingly. "No fuckin' way bud." Cursed the visitor. "Yeah way." Powell asserted. "C'mon, Monica can't wait to see you and she'll love to give you a tour.” Once inside Jake was speechless, this was not a house it was a mansion. Twelve foot ceilings, Jacuzzi bath tubs, the works. Monica guided Jake gleefully through the house, Jake was dumbfounded. He and Mike had a few drinks after dinner then all to bed.

The next morning Mike took Jake over to his office, introduced him around and then left him with Leonard Leavay, the agency manager. Leonard was a very soft spoken man, with such gentle mannerisms he could sell ice to an Eskimo. Leonard explained in detail that working with him was not purely insurance sales. It involved investments, stocks and bonds and required NASD licensing as a series 6 and 63. Leaving New York was a painful thought. Having family a thousand miles away was hard to accept, his girls would nearly loose their grandparents over distance. Then his thoughts turned to his greatest desires. Did Atlanta have the Italian delicatessens and bakeries he so dearly loved, Indian foods, and most of all his beloved Dim Sum and steamed chicken feet, what would he do? “The girls can visit during the summers and Christmas, and I can have that shit shipped if I have to,” he justified to himself. Within forty minutes Jake was sold on the idea and was signing contracts. There would be training, tests and the like, but there was a training allowance and moving costs. Jake was excited at the prospect of calling a clean civilized city like Atlanta home.

Chapter 3

Dyan and the girls waited anxiously in the crowded hall at LaGuardia for Jake's plane to arrive. Dyan spotted him first, lifting Vicky to catch a glimpse with Andra tugging wildly at her skirt demanding a look of her own. The girls bolted through the security check point the moment they saw him. An overweight guard tried to stop them, but both dodged and ran like open field pass receivers going for a touch down, he couldn’t even slow them down. Other guards made futile attempts at stopping the two runners but the dodged and turned with such speed not one could even slow them. Jake dropped his bags before they knocked him to the floor, catching them tenderly in his arms. An opportunistic passerby went for one of Jake’s bags only to discover his prize was anchored by Jake’s foot and guarded by Jake’s patented look that would have made Adolf Hitler's blood run cold. Releasing his grasp on the bag he quickly lost himself in the crowd, Jake turned his attention back to his young ladies and the irate security guard demanding they all leave the secured area. Never releasing his girls he snagged his bags and lumbered toward Dyan's glowing smile. Beyond the security area he gently released the girls then threw his arms around his wife. Pulling her so close he was nearly crushing her he sensed a pounding swell in his chest, Dyan held on to him as well but there was an almost imperceptible chill to her embrace. "What's wrong?" Jake queried. "Nothing, I'm fine, the girls, they were fighting in the car, and you know how that bothers me." She replied. "Yeah, let's get out of this toilet. Come on." Jake said motioning toward the exit.

Out in the car Jake began addressing the move to Atlanta and the prospects of gainful employment as he negotiated the parking area. "Jake! You're talking like you've already decided." She declared. "Well I have!" He responded in a half shout as he paid the parking tab, "I've already signed the contracts with the company." "What?" She shouted. "You could have waited to talk to me first, I AM your wife!" Dyan cried out as tears began welling in her eyes and her voice fluttered.

Suddenly their argument was interrupted by a deafening roar and concussion from the building which rocked the station wagon. Jake's half open window blew inward showering him in glass cutting his face and left arm, the closed rear windows held fast saving the girls from harm. Dyan screamed with shock as Jake locked the wheels to a screeching stop, then screamed again seeing Jake's wounds and once more at the blood being spattered on the windshield from the outside. Jake throttled the car, cutting the wheel full right over a curb behind a concrete divider to relative safety . Spinning around in his seat he grabbed at Dyan's face and arms to see if she was hurt, then quickly checked the girls who were crying loudly. "What happened? Jake you're bleeding!" Dyan cried out through her tears nearly vibrating in fear. She scrambled frantically for a handkerchief as Jake tore the sleeve off his shirt to assess the damage. Using the material as a swab he cleaned his cuts as best he could without pushing glass further into his arm and face. Screams and muffled cries of anguish and terror emanated from the terminal, Jake reluctantly turned to look at what he already knew he would see. Shards of glass, people running in confusion, men and women looking for loved ones and blood and body parts everywhere. Wrapping his arm with the excess cloth he ordered Dyan and the girls to the floor of the car, reaching under the dash he produced a Mauser HSc .380 calibre pistol, racking the slide and setting it on “safe” he handed it to his wife. "Stay here, I'm going inside to find what the hell happened. Anybody suspicious comes close, use this. Got it? ” She blankly nodded as he shut the door and headed for the terminal with Dyan calling after him, "Jake! Jake! Jake it's not your job anymore..." She trailed off as he stepped into the building through a shattered gaping window frame.

The scene was devastating. People were screaming and crying, blood and glass was everywhere. Jake could still smell the acrid odor of high explosives which he instinctively followed to a twisted mass of metal that was once a bank of lockers. New York City Police cars, Transit Police cars and emergency vehicles of every type were rolling in at a phenomenal rate. Jake assessed the scene and moved to help some of the casualties. The man who had been closest to the blast was very dead, scattered across a full thirty feet of the concourse. Three others lay dead by the rest rooms, and a teddy bear was shredded. Frantically looking around he saw a stroller, “Oh God,” he thought. Running quickly toward it he could hear a baby crying, the blast had caused a high pitch ringing in his ears nearly drowning out the child’s muffled screams. Pulling the blanket aside he saw the child was miraculously unscathed, then he realized that his mother was one of those outside the rest room, she had taken the full blast unknowingly shielding her child even in death. Suddenly two police officers grabbed Jake, throwing him against the wall, they held him as a suspect. After some heated discussion, presentation of true and legal identification, Jake was released. Most of the next three more hours were spent in and around the airport trying to get out. City police had sealed the area, Transit police searched all the vehicles and the roads were blocked with ambulances and fire apparatus. The girls fell into a fitful a sleep, Dyan started on again about moving. Thankfully the ringing in his ears was still quite severe so he only heard about one third of Dyan’s diatribe. The sleepy party arrived home at almost 3:00 am, the long tedious night was over.

Half way around the world Moamar Kadafi strode pompously from an ostentatious tent onto a barren desert field disdainfully eyeing the young recruits haphazardly formed before him. His attaché ordered them to an uneasy “at ease!” Another aide began handing out thick metal clasp folders to each man. A craggy faced, long bearded fellow opened his packet first, only to be scolded by the officer for doing more than he was ordered. Kadafi interrupted, “Holy fighters of Islam, open your envelopes now!” Each man hurriedly followed his orders to the letter, each opening the packets carefully yet quickly. “These are your personal property, your responsibility and must never be out of your control!” Shouted the diminutive commander. “Before you are the files of our greatest enemies! Their leader, their creator, their MOTHER is William E. Colburt, he must die for his crimes against Allah and our people!” He shouted furiously. “His children must die just as my daughter has for our cause!” Kadafi was spitting in fury as he spoke.” Young Abdel al Meden scanned the files before him carefully ominously focusing on one file in particular. “This one,” he said under his breath, “This is the one I will pledge my life to eliminate from our world.” The image in the photograph he focused on was Jake Capra’s.

Chapter 4

Over the next few days there were numerous arguments from Dyan about not consulting her over the move. Jake was persistent and logical. Pointing out the advantages of getting the girls out of New York, Dyan’s safety, savings in car insurance, and the improved life style finally allayed her fears and she ultimately, or superficially forgave him for his haste and inconsideration. Leisurely as they prepared their belongings the excitement was building in Dyan. Mr. Leavay arranged for temporary lodging, contracted a real estate agent, arranged for a moving company, all was set. They had very few friends in New York, Jake’s parents and one neighbor named Heidi whom Dyan had befriended. Moving day was upon them, there were some tears, a lot of good bye’s but more smiles than anything else. Jake drove the Volvo wagon filled to the head liner with valuables, breakables, guns and nick knacks. Dyan drove the Benz, trunk full to bursting but the passenger compartment open for the most precious cargo, his daughters. Jake didn’t realize at that moment that though his love for his wife was deep and genuine, his priorities were slowly changing order. He lived his life for his daughters more so than the woman who bore them. He was gradually forgetting that Dyan was truly the most important person in his life, a mistake that would cause him great grief one day, but in turn gave him the strength that would make him who he was destined to yet become.

Both vehicles eased out on to the Cross Bronx Expressway toward The George Washington Bridge. The .50 cent toll booths were busy as usual, Dyan pulled into the booth to his left instead of behind as previously agreed. He caught a glimpse of them, Andra was pasted against the window crying. Though he could not hear her it was obvious what she was saying, her little lips mouthed “I want my DADDY!” as she beat her little fists on the closed window. Once through the tolls, Jake motioned Dyan to pull over in the next service area. There outside the Vince Lombardi rest area restaurant they rearranged the vehicle’s cargo to allow Andra to ride with “her” Daddy. He was reminded how only a year or two earlier his own sister Carmela teasingly sat on his lap and told Andra that this was her Daddy. The then little three year old became furious, crying and pulling at Jake’s sister’s clothing to get her away from what she knew was hers. These thoughts brought a smile to Jake’s face and is black heart, it should have signaled a warning, but did not. Andra snuggled into the passenger seat, put her head on his right leg and there she stayed for the one stop, two day drive to Atlanta.

Arriving mid-afternoon in the first week of July the Atlanta air was stifling. Mr. Leavay had arranged for a four bedroom apartment is Sandy Springs, a northern suburb of the city, about four miles from the office. The air was so heavy that day that neither Jake nor Dyan could catch their breath unloading the vehicles. A maintenance man named Henry from the complex was kind enough to lend a hand, but was so clumsy he scratched or dropped everything he carried, so they thanked him and sent him away before they got down to the Hummel’s. The moving van arrived the next morning. Thankfully this was a long holiday weekend permitting the next two days to be spent settling in.

First day of training Jake made a point of wearing his favorite medium gray new Armani suit. Dyan dutifully made Jake his usual four soft boiled eggs and toast. Andra and Vicky shared his breakfast sitting on his lap as they always did when he wasn’t traveling and Vicky eventually used her cereal bowl as a hat which she often did. Briefcase in hand, hurried kisses at the door he was off the what he referred to as “The exciting world of life insurance.” The gentleman doing the training was Wallace J. Tall. Appropriately named, Jake thought, the fellow was easily six four or five and full of some of the funniest country expressions a city boy could have ever encountered. Capra spent the first two days making notes of his expressions. “That dog won’t hunt, we’re crappin’ in tall cotton.” And so the quips flowed effortlessly and continuously from Wally’s lips. Once Jake had his own repetoir of clever country things to say he started listening to the training itself. The next week he was scheduled to take the salesman’s tests, all of which he passed with relative ease. Then the NASD tests were scheduled and they were very grim fair. Serious study was required but in his usual manner he put them away just like he did the Special Forces exams. In two weeks he was fully licensed and ready to conduct business. Leonard gave him a few leads, Jake was armed with information, his pen coupled with unsigned blank contracts made him dangerous. The first sales came slow and very hard, but he was developing his own style. Dyan was house hunting for months but eventually discovered the “perfect house” in a one day to be come famous, quaint little village north of Marietta called Kennesaw. The closing on the house went smoothly, another weekend moving and the outwardly picture perfect family was settled in their new home. The girls made friends quickly in a neighborhood resplendent with other young families. Car pools were organized, Moms met for coffee, Dads argued sports. One weekend Jake and the girls planted an oak tree in the yard. Carefully Jake made a small notch in the tree showing their respective heights at the moment of planting. There were smiles and champagne toasts, moments of apprehension offset by nights of mad passionate love. But the seeds of discord had been sown, soon to take root and destined to produce an evil, foul smelling bloom.

Chapter 5

Labor Day soon snuck it’s way into the calendar and Andra was off to her first day of school. Vicky, not to be outdone wanted to go to school too. True to small town Americana, several neighbors recommended Kennesaw First Baptist Church day school. As all good parents would, the Capra’s took time to go have a look one afternoon, as soon as Jake found out that the pastor’s name was James Bond, he laughingly approved the idea and Vicky was happily packed off every morning as well.

Einstein theorized that at the speed of light the traveler experiences a total cessation of time passage, whereas those outside of the craft continue to watch the time piece click off the seconds. Jake Capra seemed to have became the traveler, working at the speed of light, time appeared to have stopped for him but not those outside of his realm. His children were growing, Dyan was aging very gracefully, Jake’s hair showed shades of gray at the temples and staircases felt just a little longer. The sapling oak was doing very well despite the several more notches in it. Vicky soon entered elementary school, Andra graduated to middle school, Dyan took a part time job for lack of anything to do while the girls were in their respective institutions.

Gradually a daily routine developed. This was the type of routine that little by little develops into a rut. For Capra himself it would eventually develop into a chasm that would nearly swallow him. Like most families the mornings were a mad rush, packing up children for school, lost papers, lunch money, catch the bus, fight the traffic. It was the evenings at the Capra home where things were changing most. The girls would do homework or play. Dyan prepared dinner, Jake would arrive, greet the girls with his usual smiles and hugs, but his attention seemed a bit shorter each week. The peck to Dyan’s cheek became quicker and more mechanical than emotional, and increasingly more hasty, soon turning his attention to the ever-present 1.75 liter bottle of scotch.

The seasons also began to melt placidly, seamlessly without notice. Despite the tree’s development, the girls growth out paced the notches the three dutifully carved each 4th of July. Capra worked very hard at his insurance business, developing it into investment and retirement consulting. Still the thought of being in this business gnawed at his very soul. Dyan on the other hand landed a job at Eastern Airlines as a reservation agent. This stroke of good fortune supplied the family with nearly free air travel. A perk they took great advantage of whenever possible. Weekend jaunts to Disney World and the Florida beaches, Mexico and the Yucatan every spare moment was spent traveling. The girls benefited greatly from this exposure albeit in very opposite ways. Andra was developing into a worldly out going, talk to anyone, no nonsense young lady. Vicky, on the other hand became the art and architectural critic a little self centered and very trendy. The intelligence community was all but a memory by now. Jake actually resumed taking the time to talk to his mother and sister Carmela on the phone. Carmela, was a physician. Not just an ordinary physician, a Neonatologist at Pittsburgh University Medical Center. A true genius in every sense of the word. She was the scientist who was actually and directly responsible for researching and writing the paper on the crack babies back in the 1970’s. Jake admired her so and had always been her protector and she was his sixth sense.

Andra was between her third year of middle school and first year of high school. Aunti Carmela asked if she could come for a visit to Pittsburgh. With free air travel available was there a question? Conversations were quick and arrangements had to be made and yet through all of this Jake’s sister asked her brother, “What is wrong with Dyan?” Jake could not fathom such a question. He responded as a hurried man would saying all was well but the query gnawed at him for weeks. The hasty arrangements were cleared, the packing of a few bags and the diminutive world traveler was off on another new adventure. Jake and Dyan we grateful to be light one child. Vicky at her age fell asleep early and slept through the night like an individual in a coma. Dyan was relieved of half the burden of tending to her demanding charges everyday. Take me here, there, ballet, gymnastics it was constant. Jake simply missed his little girl. This cold calculating sometimes unscrupulous man could not accept the absence of one of his children. The couple enjoyed special moments they had not been able to indulge in since the children had been born. One night in particular Vicky had gone to her friend Courtney’s house for a sleep over. Dyan asked to go for dinner, Jake gladly complied. They dressed as though they were off to a high school prom. Dyan wore a full length, low cut red spaghetti strapped gown with a long slit up the right side to show off her very long legs, finishing it off with a pair of sparkly, very high red heels. Jake wore his favorite Armani suit again with the red suspenders. He loved his red suspenders they reminded him of his Grandfather, the only man Jake ever really admired. Jake pulled Dyan’s Mercedes around the front, held the door for her and off they went to an evening at the Waverly Hotel on the north side.

The Waverly was Atlanta North Side’s premier hotel, dining and dance location. The waiters were all gay and proud of it. Dyan giggled as their server came to the table and with an unmistakable lisp announced the specials. She knew Jake would take the opportunity to take the server’s performance to the extreme. Once Bruce, the server, had retreated to get their drinks Jake went into his act. “Yes,” he said with a noticeable lisping femininity, “Hello, I’m Jake, I’ll be your server this evening. Our specials are Chicken Gambino! It is prepared prior to its arrival to the kitchen. It involves a chicken, bound and gagged being thrown from a limousine as it speeds rapidly by the kitchen back entrance. Then it is quickly doused with gasoline and torched. It is served still flaming (like me) and it is accompanied by Asparagus Jimmy Hoffa and an under the goal post salad.” Dyan was in tears laughing because Jake pulled it off so well. Other people began wondering what was so damned funny, that this woman was snarking and howling at the table in such a fine dining establishment. Just then a younger man, sandy blonde hair, handsome and in great shape approached the table. “Excuse me Colonel.” Just about everyone Jake knew in the military addressed him as Colonel. He had never made the rank officially, but everyone knew he would have and unofficially serving in Africa fighting against the SWAPO group he was field commissioned full bird. Jake nearly leapt from his chair. “Jakie!” He shouted with an uncompromising smile. Just as quickly he composed himself disguising his emotion, something he did better than anyone. “Good evening Sergeant Gleason, I believe you know my wife Dyan. I presume your lovely wife is nearby.” “Yes she is sir, right over there, sir.” He proudly announced to the whole room as he smiled a smile that lit every dark corner of the dining area. Senior Staff Sergeants don’t know how to whisper. They announced everything in a loud clear almost arrogant tone so as to make sure no one has misunderstood them. “Thank you for coming by to say hello.” Jake retorted, “I would be honored if you and Donna would join us for a Brandy or something after dinner.” Jake knew damned well Jack drank scotch and nothing else but then so did he. “Colonel sir, It would be our honor.” Jack answered still sporting the same brilliant smile.

Dinner went long, the meal was stupendous despite Bruce’s antics and obvious gyrations when announcing each course. Jake made movements to close the festivities. Dyan instinctively knew he had forgotten about the Sergeant and his wife. “Jake, did you forget Jack and Donna are waiting?” “Oh shit! Are they still here? Let’s swing by the bar and we’ll have one with them for the road.” “Another one?” Dyan whispered in a disapproving tone. Jake curled his lip mockingly as he rose and offered to pull back on Dyan’s chair. Jake still marveled at his wife as she rose from the chair. Statuesque, would be an understatement he thought to himself as he caught a fellow looking her up and down, Jake gave him his patented stare, one that could not just kill a man at 1000 yards but bury him as well. Jake motioned Dyan toward the bar and toward his friends.

Although the bar was dark, Jakie’s smile simply lit the room. People stared at the foursome. Jack and Jake were about the same size, 5’6” just average, typical Special Forces types. Donna, Jack’s wife was all of 5’ even, then there was Dyan, she towered over the lot and with the heels she wore accentuated her already long legs. The boys bellied up to the bar like a couple of cow pokes in from a cattle drive, the ladies eased around the corner of the bar for a little “girl talk.” “So what ya’ up to these days Colonel?” Jack asked through his effervescence. “Well Sarge, I sell fucking life insurance.” Jack nearly spit his drink across the bar. “What?” Jackie said, eyes bugging out of his head like someone has stomped on one of his balls. Jake just nodded curling his lip again in disgust. “Excuse me sir, the Army spends about $300.000.00 to train an SF’er and God knows what they spent on you up at the Magic Kingdom, and now you’re selling life insurance? Oh! And I can tell you are really enjoying it too.” “Yea Jack, you got it right man. But it seemed the right thing to do. You remember Mike Powell?” Jack nodded. “Well his uncle is some sort of big shot with New York Life and we just slid right into some good paying jobs and there you have it. Besides, my girls need a Daddy not a folded flag in a case.” “Yes sir, I understand. Donna wants me to get out and do something a little safer than combat medic.” The conversation went on through three more stiff scotches and the boys would have spent most of the night perched at the bar when Dyan asked very provocatively to go home. “Honey, did you remember? The kids are not home?” “Whoa! Colonel, you don’t wan’na be wastin’ time with an old Ranger when you got the house to yourselves!” Jakie announced to the whole bar with a devilish grin. Jake threw a $20 on the bar, they said their goodnights and departed.

The house was dark and quiet, blissfully quiet. The two were carrying on like a couple of teenagers. Jake kept grabbing at Dyan’s backside goosing her, she continually swatted at him playfully. The giggled and squealed as they went up the stairs. Dyan disappeared into the bathroom as Jake peeled off his suit throwing it over the valet next to the bed. He flopped onto the bed in just his shorts as Dyan stepped from the bath. Still dressed in red but now it was satin, full length and flimsy. Jake let out a long deep whistle, Dyan dimmed the lights and put Barry White on the tape deck. Jake leapt from the bed fumbled for his lighter in his suit trousers, “I’ll light a coupe of candles.” Jake muttered, Dyan smiled coyly. Dyan slinked onto the bed next to her man and began stroking the hairs on his chest. “Well now. It seems my soldier is at attention.” She giggled again. “How do I get him to stand at ease?” “That may take a while darling.” Jake said smiling. “Hmm, I have an idea.” Quipped Dyan. Locked in an embrace that the jaws of life couldn’t break the two began rolling and writhing on the bed. Slowly the image of a uniform, all black, coated in kevlar vest and leggings with an MP5 began to filter into Jake’s mind. Then the shadows of years past, dark ominous shadows began to dance around the room. They mocked and cajoled Jake daring him to try to make love as they watched. Dyan sensed the shadows in Jake’s mind, she renewed her efforts then pushed him away in disgust. Jake rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling ordering the shadows to depart, but they lingered. The night was lost to years of deep fear and squandered lives, Jake and Dyan’s included.

Morning came none too quickly. The shadows were gone along with Dyan’s spirits. Jake heard a car door slam and then Vicky suddenly came bounding into the bedroom. “Daddy! Daddy! We had so much fun last night!” “That was so cool, when can I have another sleep over?” Begged Vicky. “Good morning sweetheart.” Jake sputtered between the begging and requests for a replay. “It’s Sunday morning. Who wants to go to breakfast at Shoney’s?” Jake knew that would get instant approval, and so it did with louder squeals, jumping and clapping. The three eased into the car and off to breakfast.

Chapter 6

The world had changed in the years that had passed. President Carter was gone from the White House, Ronald Reagan had started to rebuild the military. The Shah of Iran had succumbed to Ayatollah and a youngish Sadam Hussain was systematically executing any and all his opponents. Half a world away from the Capras, Abdel al Meden, the young aspiring Islamic extremist terrorist distinguished himself from other recruits very quickly. He proved to be particularly ruthless and especially enjoyed using an electric drill to extract information from reluctant prisoners. Since Kadaffi had been put in his place when President Reagan bombed his home al Meden had decided to take his expertise elsewhere. Al Samawah, a small city half way between Baghdad and Bazra proved to be an ideal locale. There with the backing of Hussein he was developing his own terrorist cell. His goal, to set up his center of operations in Beirut. From there he had access to the Mediterranean, airports and consequently any country in the world. Furthermore he could operate with impunity in a lawless city.

Back in Georgia, Andra was already going through college catalogs. She had returned from visiting her Aunt determined to become a physician as well. She had assisted in two births and according to Jake’s sister, “Did better that most of my interns.” Andra promptly signed up for Latin in school so she could read the prescriptions and so forth and set herself a timeline for graduation and med school. This girl was serious. Jake doubled his efforts at the office in anticipation of the tuition bills. One morning on the way to the office the news announced the appointment of a new Federal Prosecutor for the Southeastern District, Bob Bair. Jake nearly made a U turn right there on the interstate. “Ol’ Bob is here!” He happily thought to himself as he pulled a ubiquitous three by five card from his breast pocket and noted to find Bob’s number and call him that evening. Then he remembered, this is Tuesday, shooting tonight, call Bob Wednesday he noted.

Jake worked very hard, tirelessly in fact. His military training made him Spartan in his personal life style. He allowed himself only two indulgences. One was his 1.75 liter bottle of fine single malt scotch a week and the other was sport shooting every Tuesday night. The shooting range was in the next town south on I-75. The game was the secret to the attraction. As he often said to his wife when leaving for a shoot “You can take the man out of the intelligence community, but you can’t take the intelligence community out of the man.” The game, developed by the Israelis to train their Mossad agents to go for head shots was played thusly. Five bowling pins on a steel table, a big steel table. The shooter stands thirty five feet away, the range master is behind the shooter with a timer. The timer “hears” the report of the firearm and records each shot and totals the times. The shooter starts with his gun in his hand but at rest, muzzle leaning on a rest in front of him. When the buzzer sounds he gets 6 shots, the pin must go OFF the table a three second penalty is assessed for every pin left on the table. This is done three times in turns with the other shooters. By virtue of the weight of the pin the game is best played with a .45 auto or .357 or larger calber weapon. This would be a special night of shooting for Jake, Andra was back from Pittsburgh and was going with him. She loved to shoot with her Daddy. Vicky would get a trip to the art museum or to a high line gallery Saturday. Jake always made certain both girls were treated equally as far as quality time, gifts, even punishment was doled out with unparalleled equality. No favorites would ever be played here. Once Vicky came to Jake with her angelic little smile she asked, “Daddy, how do you divide your love between me and Andra?” “Vicky, my sweet angel,” Jake responded, “I don’t divide my love, I multiply it.” That stuck with him and she forever and he would never violate that tenet.

Jake left the office a little early that evening and raced home. Dashing through the door the girls attacked him as the had all the years before but they didn’t jump from the step anymore, they were just too big. Andra announced that she had gotten the gun case out oiled the two competition .45’s checked for ample ammunition, hearing protectors and range glasses all packed and ready to go. At nearly 15 she was extremely proficient at gun maintenance and safety, Jake had counted on her to have that handled. He dashed into the kitchen , greeted Dyan with a kiss, dinner was on the table, they immediately sat to dine, together. They ate quickly, timing was everything on a Tuesday, a quick helping hand with the dishes, swift good byes and the father and daughter shootists were off to the game.

The parking lot at the range was packed. Jake parked his car next to Douggie “the gentle giant’s” truck. Jake told his daughter to go into the range as he dashed to the convenience store next to the range, there he bought a packet of Hav-A-Tampa Jewels and his once a week lottery ticket. Throwing a few dollars at the cashier and spinning on his heel he headed back to the range. Jake burst through the door of the range, the reception area was a mass of people waiting to play the game. He looked across toward the counter. Andra was perched on the counter, facing inside toward the cash register, happily surrounded by many of Jake’s friends who he knew would protect this girl with their lives. There was Matt Hold standing close to George Hylton, the shop owner who was proudly showing Andra his newest terrorist/hostage targets for the combat shoot held on Thursdays when Andra noticed Jake had entered the building, “Hi Daddy! Over here.” She smiled a broad smile of happiness being the center of attention which she so dearly loved being. She turned and looked back at George and Matt then again looked peculiarly at the hostage target. She motioned with her arm and asked her father what they were all about. "Daddy, when there is a terrorist like this holding a hostage like that, what do you do?" "Well honey, some times you have to shoot the hostage." "What?" She asked in a surprised high tone. "Well sweetie ask Mr. Matt, he’ll tell you, sometimes when you have a situation like this, you might shoot the hostage, say, in the leg or something, just to cause the terrorist enough confusion to give you the chance to nail his useless rag headed ass. Right Matt?" He asked, casting an approving look toward his old friend Matt, now an attending gunsmith. "Yea, Jake, sometimes there is no alternative." He replied with a knowing evil grin. "I know, let’s just leave it at that." Jake responded quietly smiling as well.

George called the throng together to announce the rules and safety precautions. Everyone knew the speech by heart, but George was a stickler for safety and he would go through this ritual regardless. The group broke in to two units, right side range, left side range. George asked Jake to be range master on the right and Phil would spell him when it was his turn to shoot. The evening went very quickly, Jake shot a 4.87, 3.78 and a 3.70, Andra turned in a respectable 4.98, 4.77 and a 4.62! For a fifteen year old with a .45 Government model Colt that was incredible. Their competition .45’s had been greatly modified with compensators and special guide rods, hair trigger jobs, quick point scopes as well as beaver tail grip safeties which guarded against hammer bite and dropped the gun lower in the hand for more instinctive shooting. After the shoot the whole crowd went up to a little place for some hot wings and beers, Andra stuck to the Dr. Pepper. The two arrived home at 10:30, tired, smelling of cordite and sated but still analyzing their respective performances. “Daddy did you see that one pin that went straight up? That was so cool!” Andra beamed with delight. “That was a great shot.” Jake replied, “but the one that got me was when you picked up the one you missed, the one that fell and you hit it laying down! Now that was a great shot!” Andra seemed to puff up with that bit of praise from her father, her Daddy was impressed with her shooting! Now that was an accomplishment. She had heard the stories of combat training and the weeks of anti-terrorist training at the shooting house. Dad still had a series of scars in the web of his right had between the thumb and index finger where the standard .45’s hammer would “bite’ the skin. The next three Tuesdays would go very similarly then Andra would be off to her first day of high school and their joint shooting would have to wait for the next holiday. It sadened him for a moment but then he smiled knowing she would be that much closer to her dream.

Al Meden was in Ma’an, Syria putting the last finishing touches of coaching on a young recruit who would be driving a car laden with explosives from Syria into Tel Aviv if he could make it. Worst case scenario he would cause a scene then detonate the vehicle near or at the border and kill as many IDF guards as possible. The young Arab was full of excitement and praises of Holy Jihad against the Zionists. The young man knew no fear and was poised to do his filthy deed. Al Meden was elated with is work, he knew his ability to persuade or in a sense even brain wash his minions was superb. He had honed his artifice to a fine edge, with this mastery he could soon send many young men and their victims to their deaths in the name of Allah. As tail lamps of the old white Chevy faded into the darkness of the desert, al Meden couldn’t help thinking that he would never do such a thing, he was too valuable. Only he could gain the mindless devotion from these misguided extremist young people. His had a higher calling, he could put dozens of them into action against Israel. Their only goal was to remove Israel from every map forever.

Thursday evening Jake was making his way home from the office when the news at the top of the hour announced, “This afternoon eleven Israeli border guards and seventeen civilians were killed or wounded when an unidentified Arab youth detonated the car bomb he was driving at the border check point at Aqaba.” “Can’t these poor Israelis get a fucking break?” Jake shouted loudly to the empty car, then cursed again under his breath. Suddenly a yellow light came on in the dash. “Shit! I’m overheating.” Jake quickly switched off the motor and coasted to the shoulder. Steam was already pouring from under the hood before the car came to a full halt. “Damn it!” He cursed again as he popped the hood latch and the door simultaneously. Opening the hood and waiving away the steam he could clearly see the problem. A piece of head gasket was sticking out of the side of the block right at the mating surfaces. “Well that’s it.” He thought to himself. “I shouldn’t complain at 260,000 miles plus this has been a good old car.” He slammed the hood as a Georgia State Patrolman rolled up behind him. The officer was kind enough to radio a tow truck, Jake, the tow truck and the old Volvo arrived in the driveway 45 minuets later than usual. Dyan saw the wrecker’s yellow lights and met Jake at the door, “What happened honey?” she asked in calming tone. “The Volvo has had it.” Jake responded with great anger. “Oh honey, don’t worry you need a new car that thing is almost as old as Andra, you got me the new Mercedes two years ago, it’s time you had a nice car too.” She tried to console him. “Yeah, I know but I didn’t want to spend the money this year.” Jake griped. “Let me pay this guy and I’ll be inside.” He said as he half heartedly kissed her hello. Jake paid the man , thanked him for his work and went into the house.

Andra was on the floor in the living room watching a movie on HBO while doing home work. No more jumping Dad in the doorway, she was in High School now and it wouldn’t be cool. Vicky on the other hand came bounding down the stairs in her usual loving way ready with a kiss for Dad. Jake looked over at his daughter, “Hey! You got a kiss for your Dad or not?” “Just a second, this is a good part.” She replied. Jake could hear what sounded like gunfire and grenade explosions from the TV. “What the hell are you watching?” He demanded. Andra shushed him, holding an index finger in the air, then she said in an aside, “Commando the latest Arnold Schwarzengger movie, it’s my favorite movie. It is so cool Dad.” “Daddy” had somehow vanished from her vocabulary and so Jake just brushed her off and turned his attention to Vicky. “Dinner smells good,” he thought to himself. Once the skirmish on the TV had died down Andra made herself available for the evening greeting. “Dad, that is such a great movie. The bad guys kidnap the Colonel’s daughter and he comes unglued and kills them all getting her back and then he....” “Whoa!” Jake brought her to a halt with a waive of his palm, he had seen it the week before. “And what is the moral to the story?” He asked. The answer came out as one word “Idunnno.” “Don’t mess with Daddy’s little girls! Right?” Jake returned with Andra nodding affirmatively and repeating his statement as if to commit it to memory. “Now come on give me a kiss and let’s help Mommy with dinner.”

Andra spent the first ten minutes at the dinner table railing on about the movie and how great it was, until finally Dyan demanded for another subject for table chat. The subject naturally turned to cars and what to buy, what they could afford and the like. Jake had no clue of what was out there but he was sure it would not be a foreign car again, the up keep was simply too expensive. He proposed to Dyan that he rent a car for a few days, see if the Volvo could be fixed and in the meantime do a little preliminary shopping. Reluctantly she agreed, but under protest she wanted to see Jake get something newer if not just brand new. With dinner out of the way the girls retreated to their respective rooms to finish homework, Jake retired to his chair, bottle of scotch and the TV. Dyan angrily cleaned up in the kitchen, bored at the rut Jake was in. She imagined she would ask Jake to quit drinking and that God awful goggle box for a week.. ‘Yes just one week’ she thought, ‘no not both, just one for seven days, yes, give up one for seven days.’ Suddenly she realized there was music playing in the den, it was the Moody Blues, not the TV! She dropped everything and went in to investigate. Jake was seated in his recliner, light above him on and he was reading! She could not contain herself, “Jake what are you doing?” She queried. “Huh? Oh, I am reading, I know it looks odd, but I wanted to read this.” He answered holding up a tremendous book titled Atlas Shrugged. Dyan had to grasp the door jamb, “That book will take you a week to read, if not more.” “Well, so what if it takes me a week, I want to read it.” Jake responded, and put his nose back into the pages. Dyan turned to return to the kitchen thinking ‘be careful what you wish for girl.’ Jake spent the next eight days playing Moody Blues and Southside Johnny albums and reading his book. He never once broke off until he had finished it. Dyan realized the goggle box or a book he still sat alone uncommunicative isolated just as she was. Once he’d finished the book it was back to the same routine. The only break they had from their habits was the night they went to buy a car. Yes the Volvo was history, cracked head, warped block and Jake had to convince Dyan he wanted a new Mustang 5.0, 5 speed, “Just like the Georgia State Patrol drives.” They went to a local dealer, picked out a blue one, with titanium accent, power windows, tilt wheel, power seat, super stereo, mag wheels all the bells and whistles and it was half the price of another Volvo or any other European car that sounded like a body part. Andra and Vicky thought their Dad was so cool in his new sports car, at least until they had their first ride in the back seat which was designed for amputees or midgets. They each beseeched him to take them to school the next day. Jake was very happy with his purchase and to oblige his girls he called in late to the office and obliged them both individually.

At that exact moment in Beirut Abdel al Meden was negotiating on the phone with a Sadam backed terrorist in Iraq for the purchase of 100 kilos of military grade C-4 explosive. That amount was enough to level a five story building from the outside! He was also happy very with his purchase, now to find willing drivers.

Chapter 7

The oak tree out front was taller than the house now. The notches the three had cut every year and so many years ago were all but erased by the annual re-growth of new bark. Andra would be a senior in high school, Vicky a freshman. Three years apart they would be in the same school together again for the first time since lower school. Jake had bought Andra a used red Alpha Romeo from a close friend who owned a dealership in Chamblee. He had given it to his son, but the boy flunked out of school so his Dad thought that his son being on foot might help him study more. Andra was frantically sending off college applications. Her first choice University of Florida. Great pre-med program, sun and fun all rolled up into one. Jake had volunteered to help re-elect Newton Ginrich as minority whip in the newly re-formed seventh district. Between all that and Jake’s regular work he simply was never home. Eastern Airlines had folded, Dyan was spending her time back at school trying to complete her degree. The first day of high school together went off without a hitch. The girls were pro’s at it by now. Andra would look after her sister and Vicky was confident having her to show her the ropes. Election day was rapidly approaching. Jake spent hours upon hours driving Newt around and acting as his security detail all in one. Dyan cooked, studied, went to classes, slept. The family was somewhat splintered. Dinners were no longer family time. Andra was involved in color guard, Vicky was a cheerleader, Dyan was in classes, Jake was a driver, no one was ever home for dinner and shooting night was a thing of the past.

By mid-October Jake had enough, he told his part time boss that he was taking Saturday off, Newt would have to make do with someone else to drive him that day. The Congressman was understanding and gave his consent despite the fact that Jake didn’t need anyone’s consent, his mind was made up. Jake made sure the family was without any appointments or obligations that day, they would be together as a family. Despite his good intentions this would prove to be the worst stroke of luck in Jake's lifetime. To have chosen that Saturday out of all the rest of the Saturdays or Sundays for that matter was pure misfortune. On this otherwise perfect fall afternoon in Georgia the cursed phone rang. Andra was first to it. A consumate teenager. The caller asked for her father, Andra called to her Dad loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear there was a call at the Capra home. Jake made his way from the deck into the den picking up the extension he made his greeting, “Hello.” “Jake! Jake this is Stony.” “Stony!” Jake responded, “How are you buddy?” “Jake I got big trouble. I am coming back to Atlanta tonight.” “What’s up man?” Jake queried. “I can’t explain it right now, but you remember you offered me a couch if I was ever in town? Well I need it.” “Sure bud, bring it on, you got a place here.” Jake tried to sound reassuring despite his misgivings. “Cool, man, see ya’ tomorrow.” The caller hung up.

Now Jake had to somehow break the news to Dyan who hated Stony. Stonewall Jackson Baylis was a associate who Jake had befriended at New York Life as new trainee. A young fellow, fresh water Navy guy, a real go getter, or so Jake thought. He had transferred to the Dallas Texas office about 2 years earlier. They had knocked around together, gone shooting on a Tuesday or three, over the house for a few beers, nothing close just buds. “Well here goes.’ He thought to himself. “Dyan, honey!” He said meekly. “In here Jake.” Jake eased into the kitchen where Dyan was at the table studying. “Who was that on the phone.” She asked. “Well you remember my friend Stony?” He said reluctantly. “What does that horse’s ass want, I thought he moved to Nebraska or something.” Yea, well,” he stammered, “he’s coming back to Georgia and asked if he could...” She cut him off in mid-sentence, “Oh no! No tell me you didn’t. He is not staying here, not even in his car in the driveway.” “Look honey, it’s just a couple of days, ‘till he finds a place, the he’s out of here. He’s an old bud, I couldn’t just tell him no.” He appealed to her humanity. Dyan was having none of it. “Look you tell him to stay away from me and not to even talk to me.” Dyan raged. Jake thought her attitude most peculiar. She was normally an easy going soul, very little really caused her such inconvenience, but he vowed to be rid of Stony as soon as possible. The basis for Dyan’s ire would not be revealed for years but one day he would find out.

The very next day Stony showed up in a huge Ryder truck with his Jeep on a trailer behind it and two smelly little dogs. He looked like he had just gotten back from the Bahamas. Great tan, big smile, all was well with Old Stony, it seemed nothing fazed this guy. In fact, nothing did, you have to have a conscience in order to have regrets or depression over something that has occurred or you incurred and Jake surmised Stony couldn’t possibly have a conscience. Jake showed him around the house, showed him where to put his things and the dogs then explained Dyan’s feelings about the whole thing. Stony was unfazed, as usual. “Don’t worry old buddy, I’ll win her over in a couple of days.” He smoothly announced. “Well Stony, hopefully you’ll have things settled in a couple of days and we won’t have to approach that situation too deeply.” Jake said in his best Magic Kingdom double speak. “Jake, can you help me out here, I got to get this truck to the rental place tomorrow or it’s another hun’.” Stony solicited smilingly. With that Stony set about unpacking his things along with two dogs that Jake knew nothing about. For a moment Jake was quite put out. He had the nerve to show up with dogs too! He shrugged it off and set about helping his friend with his things. They were nearly done when Dyan arrived back home from a trip to the mall with Vicky. She barely acknowledged Jake and ignored Stony altogether until she entered the house and discovered the other two “guests.” “He has dogs too! Arrg!” She shouted loudly. Jake cringed at the tone in her voice. They continued unloading until the truck was empty.

Dyan threw some cold cuts and a loaf of Italian bread on the counter, announced dinner was in the kitchen and beer was in the Fridge. With that she retired to the bedroom. Jake, Stony and the girls had a sort of picnic in the kitchen. Stony knew Andra from years before at the range, but made a big fuss over Vicky, who really ate it up. They had a few laughs, Jake and Stony had a couple of beers, Stony made jokes, they had some light hearted fun. It was getting late so Jake shuttled the kids off to bed. Returning to the kitchen he grabbed two more beers and motioned Stony into the den. “Ok man, what happened in Dallas?” Jake asked. “Wow man,” Stony began, “It’s such a long story. You sure you wanna’ here it?” Jake nodded with deliberation. “Well you remember my girlfriend Jen?” Jake nodded again. “Well she got involved in this God cult and brought her friends over and they tried to take my house away from me. By the way did I tell you I’m an auctioneer now?” “No,” Jake replied, “tell me more.” Stony deftly sidestepped the conversation by darting off into the auctioneer story and how much money he was making. “It is like taking candy from a baby.” Stony declared. “This is something you need to look into Jake. It’s right up your alley. You could make a bundle” he continued, “look Jake, I am whipped after that drive, I gotta’ get some Z’s. You mind?” Jake shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door. “Goodnight Stony.” Jake said closing the door to the den. The master bedroom was ice cold. Not in temperature, but in emotion. Dyan was seething. “How long is he staying?” She murmured. “Couple of days sweetie, I told you.” Jake answered. “Um, hum.” She replied, “Good night.” She said rolling over. Jake turned out the lights and undressed in the bathroom not to disturb his very angry wife.

Jake rose early, dressed and headed for the kitchen for coffee. Leaving the master bedroom he smelled bacon cooking. ‘Dyan made breakfast?’ He asked himself, ‘not during the week.’ Usually the girls preferred a quick cold cereal and juice thing before school. Entering the kitchen he found Dyan, in her robe, sitting drinking coffee and Stony working feverishly at cooking eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, it was like a Waffle House! “Jake! Good morning.” Stony greeted with a huge smile, “I thought I’d cook some breakfast for you folks. Hell everything was here so I set to it. Hope you don’t mind.” “No Stony this is great! I was starving anyway. Thanks.” Jake responded with great apprehension. He was stunned that this guy took the liberty to just take over someone else’s kitchen. “Good morning honey.” said Dyan, offering Jake a kiss. “Well good morning, you look comfy.” Jake responded leaning down to kiss her. Stony poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Jake. “Here ya’ go bud.” Stony said. “Thanks,” Jake retorted looking over at Dyan, shrugging his shoulders with a questioning look he sat down and began sipping is coffee. Stony the put a plate of scrambled eggs, another of bacon, a stack of toast and a bowl full of hash browns down on the table. “Here ya’ go folks, eat up. You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” He said happily. The girls came crashing into the kitchen, dropping book bags and activity bags. “Wow! cool.” Announced Vicky, as she sat and started shifting portions of eggs and bacon onto her plate. Andra on the other hand was too cool for a comment like that she just sat down and started grabbing at the plates of food. Jake waited until the girls got theirs next he helped Dyan then himself. They all ate breakfast and departed for their respective destinations except Dyan who didn’t have class until 2:30 that day.

It was a little after dark when Jake pulled into the driveway. Entering the house he could hear squeals of laughter coming from the kitchen area. He went to investigate. Jake was shocked to find everyone home. There were the girls and Dyan all together quite riveted to Stony’s story telling and to the mimish performance antics accompanying his recital. Vicky was the only one to offer a kiss hello, Andra and Dyan acknowledged Jake but made no other move, Stony simply waived and continued his tale. Jake pulled up a chair and began listening. Soon Jake was chuckling at Stony’s story which about moving a baby grand piano from an old barn with an even older truck. Throughout the whole next twenty minuets Dyan giggled and snarked remarking repeatedly over the laughter, “You’re so funny!” Jake was somewhat puzzled but somewhat relieved that Dyan had gotten past hating Stony so vehemently so quickly. Story over, dinner behind them the girls showed Stony their prized possessions and projects from school. Dyan fiddled with the dishes and announced she had to study while. Jake fixed a drink and retired to the den to peruse the news or whatever looked the least bit interesting on the tube. Stony followed him less than ten minuets later.

“You know Jake,” Stony began, “I was telling Dyan about the auction thing and she’s quite interested. You ought to look into it there’s a lot of money to be made here.” “Thanks Stony,” Jake responded, “but I have a career and I make good money so...” Stony leaned forward in his chair, “Ok then. I’ve already told Dyan about it and she is interested. So would you mind if Dyan helped me? I mean I would pay her and all, she says she’s good with books and the like.” “No one better.” Jake retorted, gaze focused on the TV, as his mind tried to make sense of the whole picture being presented. He decided he would file it in his brain under ‘research this later.’ They watched TV in silence for a while Stony started to fiddle in his suitcases and boxes Jake heard Dyan going up the stairs so he excused himself and followed her to the bedroom. Barely three steps behind her he entered the bedroom, turning directly to her he asked, “Can you tell me what I am missing here? Last night you were ready to tar and feather this guy, now today you are ready to work for him!” Dyan gave Jake the best surprised look she could muster. “Jake,” she began, “perhaps I was hasty in prejudging Stony, he’s actually quite nice, very funny and extremely ambitious. Besides you know I enjoy working, I have never been one to sit at home all day and I love numbers, doing the books is right up my lane.” “But what about school?” Jake asked. “Well that is getting so tedious and it is quite boring. I’ll finish after Vicky leaves for college.” She replied. Jake was dumb struck, he went back downstairs. Back in the den he tried watching some TV with Stony constantly nattering on about the auction thing and his mind wrestling with Dyan’s about face he deduced it was futile. He told Stony good night and headed back to the bedroom.

There he found his lovely wife, dressed in blue satin teddy, propped up in bed reading a book. “Damn she looks good.’ Jake thought to himself. “You’re up here early tonight.” Dyan declared. “Yea, well Stony won’t shut up and I wanted to watch a little TV, so you mind?” Jake asked as he switched on the Sony in the bedroom. “No go ahead.” She replied. “Almost done here anyway.” Jake undressed, fixed up his pillows, and set himself up for some quiet TV watching. Within minuets Dyan put away her book turned off the lights and rolled over towards Jake. He was fixed on the movie and didn’t realize Dyan was staring at him a full five minuets, suddenly she was on top of him, pulling at his T shirt and boxers. Jake was stunned for a moment, then he surrendered. The couple spent the next two hours making mad passionate love nonstop, finally collapsing exhausted they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Jake woke first the next morning. Prying himself from Dyan’s arms he showered and dressed for work. Once again Stony had breakfast ready to go so they all ate except Dyan who was quite satisfied and still asleep. Before leaving for the office Jake went up to bid her good by. Essentially she was still out cold so he opted for a peck on her cheek and left. The next few evenings went very similar to the first night. Dyan was simply insatiable. ‘They say,’ Jake reasoned, ‘that women don’t hit their sexual peak until they hit 40, she’s 41, cool!’ But again his sister’s question nipped at his brain.

Stony had been there a week now with absolutely no indication of looking for work or a place to stay. He spent most of his time talking with Dyan about auctions and how they operate, what equipment was needed and the like. Finally Jake stuck his nose in and offered to help out reasoning to himself that if he didn’t get him going Sony might never leave. Stony would market to prospects, Dyan would handle the organizational parts and Jake would help locate a PA system and other equipment. That first week ended up being a fourth week when Stony was relating some of the details of his leaving to Jake and Dyan. “See,” Stony declared “I was trying to do this in Texas. There was a woman there who was helping me. She gave me some money to get started so I made her a partner. She was a big help, she was married and I was boning her. It was O.K. at first , then when I started dating this other babe she got jealous and wanted her money back. I told her she still had her part of the partnership but she wouldn’t have it that way. She was talking about leaving her husband and wanting to get married, what a nightmare.” Jake waited until he was done, then in a deliberate tone asked, “Stony, you mean to tell me you were having an affair with a married woman, and took money from her?” “Yeah! Cool huh?” He replied in a matter of fact tone. Jake rose, the fury on his face was clearly visible. Turning to face Stony Jake said, “Stony, I want you out of this house tomorrow! Not the day after, not Saturday or Sunday, TOMORROW.” His voice thundered. Stony looked at Jake dumbfounded. “Wait Jake what did I do? Are you pissed about the broad?” Dyan wheeled around in her seat, “Jake what has gotten into you?” She demanded. “Dyan, stay out of this.” He ordered, “Stony, tomorrow.” Jake stormed from the room with Dyan hot on his heels. “Jake, Jake!” She implored. He headed up the stairs and right into the bed room. Spinning on his heel he looked Dyan right in the eye, “Listen!” He said holding his index finger in the air, “I will not have any man in my house who will sleep with another man’s wife. The man clearly has no scruples and I don’t want him around my wife or my children! That is all I have to say and all that will be said about it!” “OK, you’re right,” she replied, “I didn’t think of it that way. But please calm down.” Jake didn’t speak, he sat at the foot of the bed, turned on the TV and simply shook his head in disgust. Dyan sat next to him rubbing his shoulders and whispering, “It’s OK honey, I’ll make sure he’s out tomorrow.” Stony always fell on his feet. The next morning in under an hour he had found a three room garage apartment not six miles from the Capras home for just a couple hundred dollars a month. He managed to get most of his things out that day with only some incidentals to pick up the next. Jake was relieved.

The next few weeks were quite uneventful. Christmas was just around the corner. Dyan and Jake went shopping a couple of times under duress, they both hated the mall. On one particular trip they ran into Stony coming out of Spencer’s. “Hey! You guy’s” he exclaimed as though they were still best friends. Some greetings were exchanged, a couple of how are you’s, then Stony turned to Dyan, “You know, I have a charity auction at St. Mary’s Church the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Would you like to handle the door and receipts?” Before Jake could speak Dyan accepted with delight. With that Stony made his good byes and they went their separate ways. Jake was furious. “Do you mind telling me why you accepted that offer? I told you I didn’t want him around my family.” “oh Jake.” She began, “relax it is in a church and it’s for charity. It’ll be fun!” Jake looked at his wife, “Yea right! Him in a church.” That night when they got home Jake went to his workshop in the basement. He went to the closet moved some boxes around, found the one he was searching for. There was a mass of tangled wires, small metal boxes, phone jacks and the like. He selected a few specific items and placed them on the work bench. Next he went up to his den, top drawer he removed a mini cassette recorder and returned to his shop. Plugging a couple of wires in here and others in there he took the whole device to another closet. There was the phone line which went up to the kitchen. He took a razor knife and spliced into the wires, attached two alligator clips to the exposed copper and then plugged the last lead into the recorder, then switched it on making special note that the tape was not rolling and set it at half speed, three hours recording time. He went back to the den and called his office which he knew was closed, he listened to the greeting and hung up. Returning to the basement he switched the tape recorder to rewind, then playback. He could hear the dial tone, then the touch tone tones and the greeting, the recording went blank the same moment he had hung up the phone. ‘Good’ he thought to himself, ‘still works.’ He rewound the tape to the beginning again switched off the lights went back upstairs. Jake checked the tape every evening. There were some calls from Stony but they were all regarding the auction, logistics and the like. He even suggested that perhaps he, Jake might help out in some fashion, Dyan dismissed that idea. Jake was satisfied, he unplugged the recorder and returned it to his desk but left the wiring in place.

Thanksgiving Day Jake rose early well before everyone. Straight to the kitchen he began to prepare the day’s dinner. Jake always cooked on the holidays. He concluded they would be true holidays for his wife and he would handle the entire operation allowing her some rest from the drugery. Dining room set up by the girls Jake presented the turkey. A huge bird, cooked with white wine to absolute perfection. Gravy, dressing cranberry sauce, peas, Jake didn’t miss a thing. The four ate until the chemical reaction of turkey and full stomachs took effect and it was nap time. The office was closed until Monday so Jake was none to ambitious. Friday Dyan told Jake she was going to the Church to help Stony with the set up, Saturday went the same but this time Jake went along. There were a full twenty people helping Stony set up his charity auction. Sunday the Capras slept late, the auction was set for 3:00 and Jake was going. Dyan left at 1:00 to help with the final touches, Jake followed two hours later. The whole affair was quite impressive. Stony raised a bundle for the church and was quite the auctioneer. Once it was over Dyan did the talley right there and gave the receipts to the pastor. Quick clean up, everyone departed. Monday found Jake at his desk at New York Life. Dyan called, “Jake I have the most wonderful news! Stony has another auction.” Jake was disappointed. “Dyan, can we talk about this when I get home?” He asked. “OK Honey, when you get home.” They hung up. That evening Jake re-expressed his reservations about Stony and his lack of scruples. Dyan responded with the reasoning that he was a full ten years younger than she and preferred women with huge breasts. Jake wasn’t getting through and he was getting frustrated. The discussion was pointless, he told Dyan he was going to his shop to reload some .45’s for the next pin shoot. he left the room, swung by his den, picked up the recorder and headed for his shop. Once in his shop he sat down and cranked out about one hundred .45’s on his Dillon press and then hooked up the recorder again. Feeling satisfied that everything was under control he went up to bed.

Christmas was on the Capras in a flash. Jake wondered where the time was going. He dutifully monitored the tapes but there was nothing to speak of. In fact Stony urged Dyan to be more assertive, gain confidence in herself. Jake pushed it off but kept the machine in place. New Years Eve the Capras were all home. Jake maintained that this was amateur night and they needed to be safely behind closed doors. Jake wouldn’t have to be back at work until Monday so they all had another three day weekend. Monday morning Jake strolled into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and sat down. The girls had left a little early so they could chat with their friends about their Christmas gifts and general holiday chatter. Dyan stood by the door, staring out into the yard. “You all right?” Jake asked, Dyan simply sighed. He got up to get another cup of coffee. Dyan turned to him, “Jake” she said solemnly, “Jake, I want a divorce.” Jake’s knees bucked, his heart flipped over in his chest, he could not breath! “I am not kidding.” She continued, “I need to find myself.” Jake was still in shock, words failed him, his head was reeling, he caught himself on the counter and lowered himself into a chair. “What, what the hell...” he stammered, “what has brought this on?” Dyan was crying by now, “I am forty-one years old, and I have done nothing with my life. I am no one.” Jake's mind began working again, “You are a wife and a mother. That is something! You have two beautiful daughters. What the hell do you call that?” He shrieked. The tears were rolling down her face now, “We have to tell the girls.” She sobbed. “No. Not we, what is this we shit? This is your decision, you tell them, you decided, just like you said, you decided so you tell them.” He ordained. “But you had better think long and hard about what you are saying here.” “I have!” She wailed. “I don’t believe you!” Jake exclaimed. “This is insane Dyan, insane.” He stood up grabbed for the phone, calling the office he told them he wouldn’t be in at all that day. Turning back to his wife Jake said, “We had better talk this out because this is a huge step, we have been together now twenty four years. There’s a lot to say for that.” His heart and chest still pounding he gasped for breath to finish the sentence. At one point he took her to the bedroom and opened her underwear drawer saying, “This is who you are, this is Dyan! You put these on every day, you take care of two children and you live just the same as I do!” She grasped a fist full of satin and threw them across the room shouting, “You! You have changed history. The people you have eliminated in the name of Democracy has changed the face of the world. I have done nothing! I am nothing! Stony was right, I have no identity. I am just the wife of the man who changed the world. No we can’t tell anyone you did it, but we know who, and what you are. You are a fucking assasin and I can’t live this way anymore!” The couple spent the day hashing and rehashing events and milestones in their lifetime. Arguments they had, the explosion at LaGuardia, the Entebbe raid, bad times good times, things she should never have known. Jake finally deduced it was some sort of pre-menopausal depression and insisted Dyan go for a check up before this went any further. She agreed.

Time almost stood still for Jake. He wracked his brain for answers to his wife’s decision. He monitored the tapes carefully. Stony and Dyan had many discussions but nothing approached an affair or anything of that fashion. He could barely work. Jake decided to see his physician, he explained the situation and the doctor prescribed an antidepressant. Not Prozak but something of that genre, it made him very uncomfortable. The couple continued their discussions, Jake continually tryed to reason it out. Dyan would throw him curve balls, “the drinking, that is one thing.” She exclaimed. Jake poured the rest of the remaining scotch down the sink, he quit! But still that was not enough to make her stay. She was determined to move out. Jake told her he would leave, she said no. She knew nothing about the house, furnace, pool care, nothing. He should stay and she would go. Two weeks had passed with no headway on Jake's part. Dyan was insisting on their telling the girls, Jake finally agreed. Friday evening Jake asked the girls if they would stay in that night, “Mommy has something to talk to you about.” Reluctantly they agreed. At about 7:30 Jake and Dyan were in the kitchen together, she looked over at him, took a deep breath and asked, “Are you ready?” Jake looked at the floor, “no” he replied fearfully. Dyan called the girls in. Vicky sat on the breakfast bar, Andra stood by the end of the bar. Jake took a position by the fridge and Dyan stood in front of the back door. “Girls” she began, “your daddy and I have been talking about many things, and I have decided that we are going to have a trial separation.” Andra spoke not a word, her jaw clenched tight, she said with every bit of sarcasm available “great!” Vicky on the other hand fell to pieces. Her face seemed to implode. Her tears flowed like a water fall. Jake thought to himself ‘if I were talking I would add, “but, we have decided to work on it harder and not separate.” but I am not talking.’ He wispered to himself. Dyan finished her soliloqy with out any outward concrn for her daughter’s distress. That Sunday Dyan packed a couple of suitcases and went to stay with her friend Sharon across town. Jake called Dyan daily, he could not bear the thought of a failed marriage. He began shaking uncontrollably, sometimes even his speech was slurred. He felt himself dying from the inside out. Dyan told him to stop calling, there was no separation if they were in constant touch with each other. Jake felt that this was the coldest winter he had experienced in his lifetime. Jake’s brain was not functioning, he had nightmares constantly. Somehow he managed to work but it was more mechanical than actual production. He did make some sales, but it was very clear he was lost. Dyan would come on Saturdays or Sundays, pick up the girls and they would go off together, returning them home by evening. Vicky came in one such evening quite angry. She threw her purse on the floor and announced, “My mother has lost her mind.” Jake asked her why she would say such a thing, Vicky explained that her mother would actively seek a divorce. The papers were served on Jake the following week. The rest was simple mechanics. They divided everything right down the middle. Jake paid Dyan for her equity in the house, cars were retitled, collections and curios were reasonably disbursed. A family came to an end.

Jake got wind of Stony’s next auction. There was something Jake was missing, he just knew it, things were just not adding up. Jake waited patiently for that day. Arriving outside the auction hall he recognized Dyan’s car but didn’t see Stony’s Jeep. When he walked in he saw Dyan working the desk, Stony had a new lap top and PA system. Jake couldn’t fathom where Stony was getting the money for all this new equipment. The auction was going strong, Dyan was very busy, Stony didn’t notice Jake was there for over a half hour. ‘This would be the best time.’ Jake thought to himself. He headed straight out the door and to his car. He sped from the parking, pointed the Mustang north toward his friend Douggie’s house. There her swapped his Mustang for Douggie’s white delivery van, changed into a blue jump suit, grabbed a box from the hatch of the Mustang and rolled off. Quickly but carefully he drove to Dyan’s apartment complex. The made one circle of her building taking note of the location of the phone service box. As calmly as anyone can imagine Jake parked next to the box with the side doors in front of it using the van as cover he exited the van and set to work. He snapped the seal on the service box with a wire cutter. Pulled a meter and a service phone from the box in the van. Using the meter and repeatedly calling Dyan’s number from his cell phone he determined which wires went to her apartment. Then he alligator clipped a small gray box to the two wires, plugged a nine volt battery to it, slammed the box shut. Using the original plastic from the seal Jake had fashioned a wire to resemble the seal loop, clipped it all together, closed up the van and left. Around the corner Jake took his mini-cassette recorder plugged it into yet another little gray box, using his cell phone again he called Dyan’s again. On the first ring the tape started to roll, Jake hung up, the tape stopped. He sealed the device in two zip lock bags and hid it in the hollow of a tree behind a rock. Returning to Doug’s he retrieved his Mustang and headed home.

Jake resolved he would exchange tapes in two days, if it was full he would change tapes every day. On his way to exchange the first tape he stopped at Radio Shack and purchased an second two speed mini-cassette recorder. Pulling off the road near the appointed spot he set the four way flashers and dashed to the tree, exchanged the tapes and headed off. Up the street he stopped in an Amoco station. Inserted the tape in the second machine, pressed play selected first gear and pointed the Mustang towards home. The first tape had some interesting conversation to it. One lengthy conversation between Dyan and Stony regarding her wise decision to divorce Jake. Stony applauded Dyan for leaving “a bad marriage” and was grateful that she was helping him with the auction company and all the equipment needed. Jake’s temperature started to rise. “I knew that mother fucker had something to do with all this.” He said out loud almost yelling and slamming his fist on the wheel. Subsequent tapes revealed that Stony had been the one who put the “I need to find myself” idea in Dyan’s head. Furthermore she was funding his entire operation with the money from her portion of the equity in the home and credit cards. Each tape filled in more blanks for Jake. There was never any mention of an affair or sexual encounters. Jake was grateful that she hadn’t been that gullible too, but his fury was mounting. His mind wandered as how painful he would make it to rid the earth of Stony and just how long he would wait to do it. Three weeks of tapes gave Jake enough information. The entire puzzle began to fit together. Stony had been the one to fill Dyan’s head with a bunch of “bull shit.” In Jake’s own words. His wild tales of an auction empire deluded Dyan into her hasty decisions. This was an open and shut case of manipulation in the name of avarice! He knew instinctively that Dyan could not come up with such a intrigue on her own. They had been together too long. Jake and Dyan met when they were only twenty one. He asked Dyan to marry him on the third date, and they had been together ever since. It was truly love at first sight and Jake knew she was the love of his life. He borrowed Douggie’s truck again, undid all his handy work then began planning how he would extract appropriate satisfaction. Jake sat a moment back in his Mustang, then proclaimed to the empty car. “If you intend to dine with the devil you need a long spoon.”

The months after the divorce passed very slowly for Jake. It seemed everyday had 40 hours in it. He couldn’t erase the memory of Dyan packing her car and the moving truck when she left. The vision of being together for the last time lingered in his mind bounding from the shadows when he least expected it, erasing all other thoughts destroying his concentration. Jake fell into the deepest depths of depression. Any zest for life was completely gone. He didn’t want to work, didn’t care about work, bills, nothing at all. Despite the fact that he kept going to the Tuesday pin shoot, he didn’t care to win, he just wanted to shoot. Each pin had Stony’s face on it, that is who he wanted to shoot, not a bowling pin. He had arrived home late from shooting this night nearly 11:30. It didn’t matter the girls were both out for the night at their mother’s apartment. Walking into the cold empty house he stumbled over the threshold. ‘Too many beers.’ He thought to himself, “fuck it I don’t care, no one else does.” That he said out loud. Dropping the gun case on the couch in his den he made himself a strong scotch and turned on the CD player. The sound of Justin Hayward’s guitar shattered the silence. The Moody Blues still loaded playing The Story in your Eyes. He opened the gun case and looked over his equipment, then slammed the lid shut. Putting his scotch down on a coaster he eased into his chair behind the desk. Jake listened intently to the words, “The sunshine we’ve been waiting for will turn to rain.” He nodded his head in agreement. Slowly he opened the second drawer to reveal yet another .45 Colt, a carry model. Basically an out of the box stainless National Match Gold Cup. He had the trigger done, full length guide rod and beaver tail, but that was about it. A tear welled up in his left eye, then trickled down his cheek, a second in the other eye, soon his face was very wet. He racked the slide on the Gold Cup, a heavy round slid up the ramp into the chamber. It sounded so loud to him, louder than usual. The CD player was on to Forever Autumn. The words began pounding in his head, “Now you're not here.” Over and over the song repeated itself, and again Hayward sang it. Staring intently at a photo of his wife Jake slowly began to turn the gun toward himself. The song kept repeating the same phrase “Now you're not here,” again and again as Jake slid the muzzle into his mouth. Slipping his thumb into the trigger guard he began to squeeze very slowly, tears flowing down his cheeks now. His gaze on his wife’s photo broke for a moment and wandered when he caught a glimpse of Andra’s Graduation photo and then Vicky’s next to it. His thumb eased off the trigger, then slipped out of the trigger guard, he couldn’t let his daughters find him there with his brain scattered all over the ceiling the next day. Spinning the pistol around and using it as a bat he smashed the photo of his wife off the desk knocking it across the room shattering the glass in it. Grabbing the Colt with both hands he fired one, then two and a third at the photo, tearing it three times and splintering the oak floor and paneling behind it. Then he threw the Colt at the photo, gave it one long last look and dropped his head into his hands sobbing. The chorus of Isn’t life Strange played softly, Wish I could be in your heart, to be one with your love. Jake slipped into a welcomed alcohol induced sleep.

The next morning Jake awoke still sitting his desk. The night was not restful and he woke very early. Slowly he rose, picked up his .45 and crumpling the remains of the photo then headed for the master bedroom. Shedding his clothing at last, he showered and shaved. Began dressing for the office when suddenly he threw his clean white shirt on the bed and dressed in jeans and a cowboy style denim shirt. Arriving at the office so inappropriately dressed raised a few eyebrows. “Linda, I need to speak Mr. Leavay as soon as he comes it, I’ll be in my office.” He said to the receptionist as he strode through the lobby. In his office Jake began packing things up when there was a nearly imperceptible knock on the door. ‘That will be Leonard’ Jake thought, “Come in!” He said loudly. “Good morning Jake, are you all right?” Leonard asked softly. “I’m great Leonard how are you?” Jake replied. “Jake, why are you dressed for a wild west show this morning?” Leonard queried. Jake took a seat behind his desk and motioned to Leonard to sit as well. “Leonard,” he began, “I need some time off. A leave of absence if you will.” Leonard hesitated, “Why certainly Jake, but how long is this leave and who will service your clients while you are gone?” Jake stared at Leonard, he didn’t want to miss any portion of his reaction, “Well Leonard, I think Ernie can take care of my clients and the answer is one year.” Leonard nearly fell out of the chair, “One year!” “Jake you need to be working, keeping busy, get your mind going on something, you know you haven’t been doing much in the past few months and.....” Jake held up his hand to silence Leonard. “My mind is made up Leonard, either it’s a leave or I resign.” Jake picked up one of the boxes he had already packed and turned toward the door. “Let me know what you decide, I have a couple more trips here. Thanks, Leonard.” Jake loaded the last of his things in the Mustang and headed for the house, it was only 10:45 in the morning.

Jake would spend the next twelve months working for his friend Douggie as a welder. He would work weekends for cash under the table, anything to stay physically and mentally busy. The rigors of the job had an unforeseen yet beneficial side effect. It was a heavy job, steel weighs a lot, Jake was getting back to fighting weight without realizing it. Andra and Vicky watched their father sink to his lowest point. Their mother had moved to Florida with Stony to start the auction business there because, according to Stony he was “afraid Jake was so unbalanced might come after him.” Jake had not overtly threatened Stony, they were well veiled threats but never the less threats and Jake had a way about him that given the motivation he could strike fear in to the heart of any man. Andra, still determined to become a physician knew she could not depend on her father or mother at this point for any real support. Sure Jake offered her some encouragement, but he was so preoccupied with his obsession she knew she was on her own. Andra contacted her father’s friend Congressman Ginrich. She knew she had the grades, coupled with other affiliations such as her volunteer work at the hospital, and Girl Scouts Highest honors she set her sights on The U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. Using flawless deductive reasoning learned from years of trailing after her father she calculated at eighteen she would enter the Academy. They would afford her the finest four year college in the country, send her to the top medical schools available and give her instant position as a top physician. In return she would give them twenty years. Equation complete, she would retire as an Officer with great benefits and a pension at age thirty eight. That would be younger than most physicians are when they finish medical school in the private sector. Add to that, free travel, food, housing and a handsome salary, this girl was ready to sign. The letter of appointment to the academy arrived the second Monday in May just before graduation. She waited patiently for her father to get home that day. When he arrived she poured him a strong scotch, asked him to sit in his den and wait for her. He did as she asked. She scurried to his workshop, threw open the door of one of the closets and pulled a green foot locker into the light. Unsnapping the latches she opened it, grabbed an old green beret from the top of the uniforms neatly folded in the locker. She admired it for a moment, the green, yellow and red flash had faded a bit but it was clearly the 5th Special Forces flash with colonel's wings pinned over it. She slammed the trunk shut and bolted for the den. “Dad, I want you to put this on for me.” He quietly obliged wondering what this girl was up to. She suddenly stood a full attention (or actually the best she knew how.) “Daddy, sorry, Colonel!” she said in a loud voice, and handing him the letter “I am pleased to inform you that I have been appointed to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis Maryland for their premedical program of studies this fall! I regret to inform you that in six or eight years I will out rank you for the first time in my life.” With that she threw up the snappiest salute Jake has seen in years. Jake sat wide eyed for a moment staring first at his daughter then to the letter and back again. Pushing his chair back he stood at full brace and returned the salute. He felt his eyes welling up, he looked at her with awe and admiration. “Cadet, would you permit the Colonel a big hug just because I love you so much, and because I am the proudest father in America today?” He asked. Andra veritably leapt to his arms where they embraced for a very long time.

Chapter 9

The weeks after graduation passed quickly. Andra had started packing for her time at Annapolis. The hallways in the house were resplendent with all sorts of items, clothing, shoes and electronics. “Honey!” Jake shouted stumbling over the obstacles, “They’ll never let you take all this crap with you and you certainly won’t have time to fiddle with any of it either!” “Daddy!” She began with her hand on her hips, “I need this stuff! It keeps me sane.” Jake threw up his hands in disgust saying, “Ok, fine. You are going to make me load all this crap twice and then bring it home again. Have you looked at this ‘list of permitted items?” Andra looked at him angrily, “Daddy, all educational institutions have those lists and nobody pays ant attention to them.” Jake said something in a foreign language to her and walked off. “I heard that!” Andra retorted as she wondered what he had said snickering to herself surmising what he probably said was quite foul.

The rest of the summer break went entirely too quickly soon to culminate with a long drive and Plebe summer orientation. Andra trained diligently, running every day, push-ups even chopping wood for winter. Jake spent his days welding and evenings resting and dreading the thought of making the drive to Annapolis. Vicky shopped with her friends, played on the computer and had sleepovers just as any fifteen-year-old would be expected to do. One night she had some of her friends over while Jake had already gone to bed. At around 02:00 Jake was awakened by voices. The voices of young girls giggling and laughing was very clear but the sound was coming from outside the house. He went to investigate. The back door from the kitchen was open and some of the girls were outside on the deck smoking. Jake called them inside as the fall weather was chilly and the heat was running. Once inside one of them said, “Dad,” they all called him Dad, “There’s a girl we really don’t like and we want to roll her house. Can we?” Jake was feeling a bit mischievous that night and asked where she lived, they told him very close by. “What did she do that you want to roll her house?” Little Amanda explained that the other girl had ‘stolen’ Blair’s boyfriend and filled her locker with shaving cream through the vents. “Sounds like she needs a little pay back.” He said, “let’s go!” They all crammed themselves into Jake’s car and went to a 24 hour Wal-Mart. There, Jake followed by several pajama-clad teens purchased a whole case of toilet paper and headed for the outcast’s house. Taking up flanking positions on the house the group completely covered the entire house in toilet paper, not one strip of siding was visible! They all piled back into Jake’s car again and sped off to the house laughing at their flawless handiwork. Back home the girls willingly went off to bed knowing they had avenged their friend’s injuries.

Thousands of miles away Al-Meden having been chased out of most all-reputable Arab states for his trespasses against humanity wandered the streets of Mogadishu looking for a new base of operations. He and his little entourage knew they could operate their terrorist organization from the lawless confines of Somalia for several years with impunity. The country’s government was in such disarray and starvation so rampant that with the slightest contributions to the populace they would be protected even revered in some circles. The climate was perfect for poppy production; the usual way terrorists had funded their causes for decades. The group settled on one particular innocuous building merely one block from Meden’s new home which lay in the shadow of a Mosque. This was perfect for their group. Al-Meden was a devout Muslim, militant devout Muslim. Clearly not the good, true Koran guided sort of Muslim who reads the Koran with the best intentions of understanding the words of God’s love but with the same intentions many Christians once read the Bible to justify the horrors of the Crusades. After all, what God wishes the death of those who truly believe in him but by another name? Thusly he sat in his new office, satisfied his was the only true God. Self appointed, self assured, an arrogant leader of a group of hypnotized lemmings staring at the creased photo of Jake Capra vowing again to spit in the face of this son of a jackal before he killed him in the name of the one true God, Allah.

The drive to Annapolis was not quite as bad as Jake had expected. Andra only asked, “Are we there yet?” Once every two hours instead of the usual fifteen minutes. The mini-van Jake had rented to haul Andra’s worldly possessions was well filled with just enough room for Vicky to fit in with her new portable video game. Jake guided the top-heavy mini-van around the Beltway and pointed it toward Annapolis reassured it was just another 30 miles to his destination. The road cleared ahead so he put his foot to the mat, “Half an hour to go!” He mentally shouted to himself. In less than a half an hour Jake was carefully guiding the over-laden van through the streets of Annapolis when they fell upon Gate 1 of the United States Naval Academy. Showing proper identification with admission letter they were waived on through to the dormitories. Andra’s only comment was “Holy-moley Dad! This is cooler than I thought.” There were officers, cadets, and plebes everywhere. Groups of cadets in shorts and T-shirts were jogging about the streets. Every one of them was most helpful guiding Jake and his shipment to the appointed dormitory, which would house his daughter for the next year. When they reached their appointed destination Jake slowed the van to find a proper place to unload. Before the van had come to a stop Andra leapt from the vehicle with Vicky in close behind. Jake stopping the van and had opened the hatchback and was hoping to unload when he heard the shouts of the cadet at the door of the dormitory scolding someone in a very loud voice. Looking in the direction of the commotion he realized Andra was the subject of the clamorous discussion. He smiled as he closed the hatch of the van and advanced toward the entrance. He could clearly hear Andra repeating to the cadet officer, “But my Dad…” The cadet would have nothing of it and continued to shout like a Drill Instructor. Then suddenly he heard his daughter shout, “Shut up ass hole and let me finish! Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt someone who is already speaking?” The cadet paused a moment in complete shock giving Andra enough time to cock back and crack the poor fellow with a closed fist and knocking him completely over the railing! Jake bolted up the stairs grabbing Andra and pushing Vicky toward the van he whisked them back to the vehicle right on Vicky’s experienced heels, they then hurriedly left.

The ensuing argument in the van as they sped away from the offending incident cannot be put to words. The trio checked into the Annapolis Marriott and Jake explained he would bring Andra back to the Academy one half hour before Plebe Summer registration curfew. He reasoned that by that time the unfortunate cadet she had sent crashing onto a concrete walkway twenty feet below the handrail would still be in sick bay and the new cadet at his post would not recognize her. He hoped, he explained, that the former might not even recognize her ever because of the concussion she had most likely just given him in the fall. Finally he pleaded with her that her Navy career might have ended before it began because of her despicable temper, a temper she had clearly inherited from him.

At the appointed hour Jake collected his daughter and they left for the Naval Academy for a second time, Vicky opted to remain at the hotel. They arrived at the dormitory with a half an hour to spare and all went very well. Andra was not allowed to take most of what she had packed and she did so with little protest. Jake breathed a little easier on the way back to the Marriott. “One down, one left to go.” He said to himself as he parked the nearly still full van. On the way up in the elevator he pondered a joke he might make as he laughed to himself, “What does the lack of bagels in Berlin and Andra have in common? Answer; “Whose fault is it anyway?”

The next morning Jake and Vicky set off for home. “We’re really leaving her?” Vicky asked. “Yep.” He replied with strain in his voice, “And you’re next!” He added laughingly. The two laughed as Jake guided the van onto the freeway ramp. The drive back to Georgia was uneventful, but they had decided to break it up into two days and do a little sight seeing. They dutifully stopped at every curious attraction on their way. Vicky made Jake buy new bath sheets in the Outlet Mall, which boasted 106 discounted designer stores. Looking at his checkbook balance he couldn’t fathom the word ‘discount.’ Arriving home Jake deliberated having to unload all of Andra’s extras along with the items Miss. Fashion Vicky couldn’t live without. Fortunately a couple of Vicky’s friends showed up and they all helped. The job was done in less than an hour and a half. The next day Jake took time to drop off the rental van and help Vicky arrange things in Andra’s room vowing to get back to Douggie’s shop the next day, which he did.

It had been over a year that Jake had been working steel with his friend, and they had worked very hard. At the end of the day Jake asked to speak with his friend privately. In the big man’s office Jake began, “Douggie, I love this work, but it is young man’s work. I think it is time I leave and get back to making some serious money.” The big fellow sighed deeply. “Well Jake, I can see by your work you like this job, but you are right, it is young man’s work. If you feel like it is time to go I’m good with it, although I hate to see you go because you have heart and that’s what it takes to do any job well. When do you want to go?” He asked. Jake stared at the floor, “Well, two weeks?” Doug smiled and stood up. “I wish you would stay, but two weeks it is.” Doug reached out for Jake’s hand then the two hugged. That night Jake pulled out some of his business suits and dress-shirts asking Vicky to get them to the cleaners for him in the morning. Waiting for an appropriate hour between dinner and prime time viewing Jake called Leonard at home. Leonard was pleased to hear from Jake and readily accepted him back into the firm. There were several concessions Mr. Levay wanted and a promise that Jake would not do this sort of thing again. Jake promised. The last two weeks with Douggie flashed by and Jake would miss the work and his old friend but being back at the office was good for him too.

Chapter 10

Jake embarked on a crazed mission to show he still had ‘it’ and to take top honors at the Atlanta office. The “dot-com” craze was in full swing and he took every advantage of the market trends. Jake won Broker of the Month several months in a row but Mr. Wallace Tall was never far behind. By the end of the year Jake had missed Broker of the Year by a less than a quarter of a million dollars a relatively small amount in the industry. He and Wally celebrated with $100.00 brandy and similar costing cigars at the company Christmas dinner. Jake was on top of the world. Vicky was working hard at school and a stickler as homemaker ‘little Mom’ as Jake called her, much to her ire made him proud. Vicky’s 16th birthday was nearing and a slight family tradition had developed over the years. The birthday girl could have a dinner with a friend at any restaurant of their choosing. This particular year Vicky chose newly built Italian restaurant called Carraba’s and her friend Amanda would be her guest. On the appointed night Vicky dressed in her finery with Amanda and the three headed for the restaurant. The eatery was packed with folks. They left their name with the hostess and Jake set his sites on the bar. “Stay close.” Jake told his charges. They followed him one step behind. Jake pushed his way to the bar just in time to commandeer two seats from a couple just leaving to go to their table. He ordered the girls into the chairs and a Shirley Temple each with a double scotch for himself. As the drinks arrived he turned sideways to face the two girls and survey the throng behind them. As he turned, he couldn’t help but notice the woman with her friend standing behind him. She was clearly over six feet tall, strawberry blonde hair, hazel eyes and everything else was all in the right places. Jake stared her up and down unable to speak he barely took note of her friend dressed in a gaudy cowgirl outfit. The woman, who obviously was used to similar reactions from men Jake made a futile effort to speak. Suddenly she locked eyes with is and asked him, “Could you get the bartender for us?” Holding a twenty-dollar bill in her hand as signal they wanted drinks. Jake snapped out of his trance and asked her what he could get for them. “A rum and Coke and a wine spritzer please.” She replied. Jake pushed her money away from him and turned to the bartender. In his most commanding voice called to the frantic man and ordered their drinks, he turned back to the woman smiling and nodding. She returned his smile Jake just stared. When the drinks arrived he duly delivered them to the two women who offered him money yet again, still a bit dumbfounded he stammered “No, I insist.” Then he turned back to his girls. “Are these your daughter’s” The tall woman asked Jake. “Well, no,” Jake stuttered, “This one is, um mine, her name is Vicky, and this is her friend Amanda.” “Special occasion?” She continued. “Yes!” Jake added, “It’s Vicky’s birthday and I am taking her and her friend here to dinner.” The tall woman grabbed Jake’s left hand and looked at it closely.” “All that and you’re not married?” “No, divorced.” Jake offered almost apologetically. At that moment the hostess called “Table for three, Capra!” Jake’s heart fell. “Would you ladies like our seats? Our table has been called.” The woman smiled and accepted Jake paid the tab and the little party departed as the women took their seats.

Seated at their table Jake mull his encounter with the tall lady. “It’s Vicky’s party, sure, but I have been alone for so long, sure I’ve dated but. Screw it! I’m going to ask, all she can say is no!” He reasoned. Jake told the girls he would be right back and bolted from the table. The bar had thinned out a bit so Jake had little problem making his way to the girls. The tall woman saw him coming and made some sort of gesture to her friend. He politely introduced himself using the excuse of not having paid the bill to return. “No Mr. Capra, I watched you pay the tab.” She said. “I’m sorry I was distracted by the girls.