Bouchard continued. “I want him back.”
“Oh, yeah?” retorted Tommy. “And I think you have one of my men.”
“And we want him back,” yelled Regina.
“’Tis a possibility, mon cher,” replied Bouchard, still smiling. “Why don’t you send my friend out to me, and I’ll take him off your hands for you.”
“You’ll get him when we get Vince back,” stated Tommy.
“Ah yes…Vince,” Bouchard said, nodding his head as if reminiscing. “A good lad. Strong stock, as they say. No, I don’t think that arrangement works for me. Just bring my man out. Quit dicking around, and I’ll be on my merry way. I’ll have your man brought to the same spot.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” an angry Tommy sneered. “If you don’t bring Vince here, right fucking now, you’ll never see your friend again.”
Darkness passed over Bouchard’s face. That brief but telling look showed Tommy the real kind of man he was dealing with. The pirate pasted the smile back onto his face again. It was a smile in name only; it held as much warmth as a bucket of ice.
“Oh well.” Bouchard shrugged. “I guess we have no deal then. A shame. I hope you will have no problem with my man, Corso. He’s a very mean, nasty fellow. Certainly not as warm and fuzzy as moi.”
As he stepped back down off the speedboat’s starboard side, Sean called out to him, “What about Vince?”
“Ah, Vincent. Yes. You know, he was very distraught about the unprofessional way he was taken so easily. Tsk, tsk. Sleeping on the job, messieurs, not a very good way for a professional to behave. You know, he was so upset that he had, uh, lost face with his teammates. It is not good for a soldier to do that.”
The group on the dock, especially Tommy and Manny, were steaming. Both sergeants had grim, dark expressions on their faces and their lips compressed tightly.
“So,” said Bouchard, bending down and picking up a wooden box tied with heavy string, “Vince asked me to give this to you as a small repayment for his unfortunate loss of face with his comrades.” The smiling Bouchard raised his eyebrows. “Will someone do me the honor?” He raised the box up toward the dock. Manny looked around and saw a boat hook, grabbed it, and reached out. Deftly hooking the cord that wrapped around the wood, he gently guided it back and placed it on the deck.
“Enough of these bons mots, mons amis. Au revoir.” Bouchard nodded to his driver and sat down as the speedboat raced away, turning to return to the far side of the island.
As he sped off, the group gathered around the wooden box. Almost reluctantly, Manny bent and started untying the string.
“Maybe it’s a bomb,” said Sean. “Shouldn’t we wait?”
Manny paused. Tommy said, “No. Open it. If this is from Vince, I want to see it.”
Continuing to untie the cord, Manny finally freed the box and pried the lid off. Everyone curiously bent over to see the contents of the box. Manny took the lid and set it aside. As Tommy bent down also, Manny pushed aside the paper covering on top. Inside, stretched and tacked to a dismantled mannequin’s head, was the masklike face and scalp of Vince Pasko. It was attached as neatly and precisely as if someone was making a horror movie prop.
The sad, young Pvt. Pasko was never going to Antigua and never connecting with his wife’s memory again.
Mike and Malik came running up to Regina as she stood in front of a boarded-up surf shop giving orders to a group of police officers.
“We heard what happened,” Mike interrupted. “Where are Tommy and Sean?”
Regina finished assigning tasks, and the officers scattered to their posts. Turning to Mike with a pained and deeply troubled look on her face, she said, “Tommy went to tell the rest of his squad what happened, and Sean is still puking in the bushes.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Malik.
“I think Bouchard answered that question for us,” she said cryptically. “Get everyone
“Oh, yeah?” retorted Tommy. “And I think you have one of my men.”
“And we want him back,” yelled Regina.
“’Tis a possibility, mon cher,” replied Bouchard, still smiling. “Why don’t you send my friend out to me, and I’ll take him off your hands for you.”
“You’ll get him when we get Vince back,” stated Tommy.
“Ah yes…Vince,” Bouchard said, nodding his head as if reminiscing. “A good lad. Strong stock, as they say. No, I don’t think that arrangement works for me. Just bring my man out. Quit dicking around, and I’ll be on my merry way. I’ll have your man brought to the same spot.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” an angry Tommy sneered. “If you don’t bring Vince here, right fucking now, you’ll never see your friend again.”
Darkness passed over Bouchard’s face. That brief but telling look showed Tommy the real kind of man he was dealing with. The pirate pasted the smile back onto his face again. It was a smile in name only; it held as much warmth as a bucket of ice.
“Oh well.” Bouchard shrugged. “I guess we have no deal then. A shame. I hope you will have no problem with my man, Corso. He’s a very mean, nasty fellow. Certainly not as warm and fuzzy as moi.”
As he stepped back down off the speedboat’s starboard side, Sean called out to him, “What about Vince?”
“Ah, Vincent. Yes. You know, he was very distraught about the unprofessional way he was taken so easily. Tsk, tsk. Sleeping on the job, messieurs, not a very good way for a professional to behave. You know, he was so upset that he had, uh, lost face with his teammates. It is not good for a soldier to do that.”
The group on the dock, especially Tommy and Manny, were steaming. Both sergeants had grim, dark expressions on their faces and their lips compressed tightly.
“So,” said Bouchard, bending down and picking up a wooden box tied with heavy string, “Vince asked me to give this to you as a small repayment for his unfortunate loss of face with his comrades.” The smiling Bouchard raised his eyebrows. “Will someone do me the honor?” He raised the box up toward the dock. Manny looked around and saw a boat hook, grabbed it, and reached out. Deftly hooking the cord that wrapped around the wood, he gently guided it back and placed it on the deck.
“Enough of these bons mots, mons amis. Au revoir.” Bouchard nodded to his driver and sat down as the speedboat raced away, turning to return to the far side of the island.
As he sped off, the group gathered around the wooden box. Almost reluctantly, Manny bent and started untying the string.
“Maybe it’s a bomb,” said Sean. “Shouldn’t we wait?”
Manny paused. Tommy said, “No. Open it. If this is from Vince, I want to see it.”
Continuing to untie the cord, Manny finally freed the box and pried the lid off. Everyone curiously bent over to see the contents of the box. Manny took the lid and set it aside. As Tommy bent down also, Manny pushed aside the paper covering on top. Inside, stretched and tacked to a dismantled mannequin’s head, was the masklike face and scalp of Vince Pasko. It was attached as neatly and precisely as if someone was making a horror movie prop.
The sad, young Pvt. Pasko was never going to Antigua and never connecting with his wife’s memory again.
Mike and Malik came running up to Regina as she stood in front of a boarded-up surf shop giving orders to a group of police officers.
“We heard what happened,” Mike interrupted. “Where are Tommy and Sean?”
Regina finished assigning tasks, and the officers scattered to their posts. Turning to Mike with a pained and deeply troubled look on her face, she said, “Tommy went to tell the rest of his squad what happened, and Sean is still puking in the bushes.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Malik.
“I think Bouchard answered that question for us,” she said cryptically. “Get everyone
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