Dixon stooped down and hugged his boys, then looked up to search for Fay. "Where's your mommy, boys? Did she send you here all alone?"
This made the two boys laugh, the older one calling his daddy silly.
"Well, fine welcome for the loyal wife," a slightly indignant voice called out. "Less than ten days have passed and you don't even recognize your own wife."
Looking up at the woman speaking, Dixon blinked his eyes, then thought to himself, Shit, she's done it again. Instead of the familiar freshly scrubbed face framed in long hair with soft curls, the woman standing in front of him had short hair swept back over ears that had long gold loops dangling from them. Her face was made up like a cover girl's. Dixon stood up, looked the woman in the eyes, and casually said, "Excuse me, ma'am, I was looking for the mother of my children. You haven't seen her, have you?"
Fay's eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up just before she hit him in the arm. "That's a fine way to greet your wife after a twelve-hour ordeal on a plane with your sons."
Dixon looked at her for a moment before speaking. She wore a loose white cotton blouse, a long tan skirt, and white low-heel pumps. He didn't recognize the outfit, but that didn't mean anything. Fay was always mixing and matching clothes in an effort to stretch her meager wardrobe. "No doubt the plane trip was far less exciting than the sneak attack by the marauding clippers and blow dryer that hit you."
Folding her arms in a defiant stance, Fay looked to one side and, more to herself than to him, started talking. "I knew it — I knew he wouldn't like it. My mother told me, and as always she was right. Ten days and all I get is 'Hi, why did you cut your hair?' Girl, you've been married too long."
"Fine! Great! Then why the hell did you do it?" Dixon asked, puzzled.
Fay smiled as she fished in her purse. "I'll tell you later, dear. Now, Gunga Din, go fetch the bags. Here are the claim checks."
It wasn't until they were in the van headed for the hotel that Fay let the other shoe fall. In the midst of a casual conversation on how everyone at home was doing, Fay said matter-of-factly, "Guess who's in Cairo?"
Knowing that he was being set up for something, Dixon took the bait. "No — who?"
"Jan Fields."
Like a thunderclap, the reason for Fay's new look struck Dixon. There was an awkward silence. Dixon knew what was coming and prepared himself for it as Fay, looking straight ahead, continued. "Jan is the WNN's chief Middle East correspondent and Cairo bureau chief. She was so excited to hear that I was coming to Egypt—"
"And it just so happens she needs a producer," Dixon added drily.
Fay turned to Dixon and stared at him. He could see that she was angry. He realized that he shouldn't have said what he did, but it was too late to take it back. Fay continued, her voice curt and determined, "As a matter of fact, she does need a field producer. And I have already applied with WNN."
"Don't you think you should get yourself and the boys settled first before you go out job-hunting?"
"Scott Dixon, we've discussed this many times before. We both agreed that as soon as the boys were in school and the opportunity offered itself, I would go back to work."
"As I recall, we discussed this, but I don't remember any agreements. Fay, I'm starting a new assignment, we're in a foreign country, and it's going to be a while before you get your bearings. There'll be time. Cairo has been here for a while. Besides, I think you should check things out in the Army community, sort of find out what's happening—"
Fay knew where the conversation was headed and didn't like it. It was her turn to interrupt. "Oh, yes, of course. I forgot. I need to find out what's expected of good little military wives and whose ass I need to kiss."
Dixon was becoming impatient, trying hard to fight back his building anger. For the most part he did. Still, he let Fay know that he was displeased by slamming down on the brakes a little harder than he needed to as he swerved through the Cairo traffic. Each time he did so, it threw Fay and the boys forward. Finally unable to contain himself, he turned to Fay while they waited at a stop light. "Damn it, Fay, you know what I mean. You're not an hour in country, you don't have any idea what's going on or what life is going to be like for you and the boys — and yet you've already decided you're going to go out and get yourself a job with Jan. Be reasonable."
Fay, angry, also turned to the attack. "I'm tired of being reasonable. I've been reasonable for eleven years. I've done everything you wanted and what was expected of me. It's not like you have a career you need to worry about anymore," she added cattily.
Fay's last comment cut deep and she knew it. Dixon turned to her but said nothing. The fire in her eyes told him she was not sorry in the least for what she had said. And the most damaging part was that she was right. The rest of the trip to the hotel was in silence. In his mind Dixon cursed himself for picking a fight in front of the boys and on Fay's first day in country. Well, Scott my boy, he thought, you sure have become an expert at fucking things up. Thank God the sofa in the hotel room is comfortable.
Chapter 5
Nothing can excuse a general who takes advantage of the knowledge acquired in the service of his country, to deliver up her frontier and her towns to foreigners. This is a crime reprobated by every principle of religion, morality, and honor.
It was as if Vennelli had been waiting all night for someone to call him. The phone's first ring had not stopped before he was up and reaching for the receiver. When he had it to his mouth, he simply said, "Colonel Vennelli."
"Sir, this is the staff duty officer. Brigade has just notified us that an emergency redeployment exercise has been called."
Without hesitation Vennelli, commander of Task Force 3–5 Armor, began to fire a series of questions at the duty officer, most of which he could not answer. Realizing that there was little to gain by playing a thousand questions, he instructed the young officer to make sure that the alert notification system was in effect and find out whatever he could from Brigade or Division. Vennelli glanced at the clock, made some quick calculations in his head, and ended his conversation by instructing the duty officer to notify all commanders and staff that there would be a situation update briefing at 0500 hours.
Vennelli hung up the phone and sat in the darkness for a moment thinking. From the other side of the bed, his sleepy wife rolled over and touched his hand. "Trouble at the battalion?"
Vennelli took his wife's hand, leaned over her, and kissed her gently on her forehead. "Yes and no. We've been tagged for an EDRE this morning. Nothing to be concerned about."
Still not fully awake, his wife asked if that meant he would miss dinner again. Vennelli thought for a moment before replying that he would call her from the office once he knew more. He already suspected that he knew the answer but decided not to worry his wife so early in the morning. Everyone in Congress and the Department of Defense was hot to trot to see if the units from the States could make it to equipment storage sites in Egypt in days, instead of the weeks it had taken during the Iranian conflict. If they couldn't, there'd be hell to pay, and more cuts in the defense budget.