Wyatt's Revenge: A Matt Royal Mystery (29 page)

The season had also brought Jessica Connor to Longboat Key for a visit with Russ and Patti Coit at their home in the Village. She and I spent a lot of time together and found that we enjoyed establishing a relationship without the tension of a manhunt. I never did tell her the whole truth of the ending of the story.

“I read that Allawi died of a heart attack,” she’d said over dinner one evening. “Did you ever find de Fresne?”

“Yes. Turns out he lived a couple of islands down the coast. He was an old man dying of cancer, and leaving his estate to the Israeli government to support Holocaust survivors. He died two days after I found him.”

“I’m glad they’re dead. In another few years there won’t be any of the old Nazis left. I hope there’s some after-life retribution. They deserve to burn in hell.”

“How’re things at the embassy?”

“A lot better, strangely enough. My friends in D.C. tell me that the pressure from above suddenly let up. I guess somebody just forgot about me.”

“I guess,” I said, but I thought I knew the reason the pressure had gone away. The cause of it was rotting in hell.

I didn’t think it would be helpful to our relationship for her to know that I’d been responsible for the deaths of William McKinley and Dick LaPlante. During the week that Jess had been on the key, we had moved closer and closer to a real love affair, making up for the time we’d missed while chasing ogres. One evening when a full moon hung low over the bay, we made love on the deck of my boat, anchored in a small cove behind Jewfish Key.

There is an old wives’ tale that holds that something good always comes from adversity. Perhaps there is truth in that aphorism, and the good flowing from the tragedy of Wyatt’s death was named Jessica Connor. We’d see.

On the day before Christmas, Jock, Logan, Burke Winn, and I sat under the trees at Mar Vista restaurant, enjoying the warmth of the winter sun and the view of a placid bay. The general and his wife had come to Florida for Christmas with friends in Naples, and he’d driven up for lunch. Logan had picked Jock up at the airport, and driven straight to the restaurant. He and I would have Christmas dinner at Logan’s, along with all the other displaced people that he invited every Christmas.

Logan said, “Jock, what ever happened to that bastard Tariq?”

“He’s not going to be bothering anybody for about the next fifty years. He somehow ended up in an Algerian jail.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Let’s just say that my agency has some reciprocal agreements with some of the more moderate Arab governments.”

“What about Hassan in Bonn?” I asked.

“He got fired from the archives, but he’s living with his parents in Bonn and working in a library. My guys scared the shit out of him. He dropped out of the mosque and moved on with his life.”

“So, Matt,” said Burke, “Wyatt’s revenge is complete.”

I’d told Burke what happened after we left Germany, and how the thing played out. “Yes,” I said. “Finally.”

The general had a serious look on his face. “I read about McKinley’s death, of course. I was surprised that Allah’s Revenge thought it necessary to take him out. They must not have known about his ties to Allawi.”

Jock grinned. “There’s something you guys should know about McKinley.”

“You been holding out, Jock?” asked Logan.

“Just until we got together. Turns out McKinley’s death resulted in my agency getting a lot bigger budget from Congress. There’s nothing like a dead politician to make the others a little more aware of the need to deal with the terrorists.”

The general laughed. “I think the military benefited some from that dose of reality, too.”

“And,” said Jock, “it seems that the congressional committee that oversees my agency felt that it would be prudent to loosen up a little and send us after Allah’s Revenge without restraint. A lot of those assholes are now in the arms of Allah and the virgins.”

I nodded. “Jock, who was the man who came for the MAD documents?”

“I don’t really know. Let’s just say that the Israelis have a long memory and even longer arms.”

“Are you saying that the Israelis had something to do with McKinley’s death?”

Jock grinned. “No, I’m not saying that. But, think about it. If somebody put a bug in the ear of a friend who happened to be an Israeli intelligence agent, and if that friend happened to want documentary proof, and if somebody could provide that proof, then theoretically, it could endanger the life of a very bad guy. And if that guy’s death happened to open the congressional purse and focus the congressional vision, and get rid of a very dangerous group of terrorists, then, well, hypothetically, you can see the advantage to it all.”

I laughed. “I can see that. Jungle justice is a little complex sometimes, eh General?”

“That it is, L.T. That it is.”