“The file will be closed, sir, correct?” Grant asked in all seriousness.
“I can assure you. Once I finish my report, it will be.”
“Thank you, sir.” Grant stood and pushed in his chair. “If that’s all, sir, I think we’ll go. We’re heading down to Porthgwarra to say goodbye to a friend.”
“Good diving down there,” Townsend commented.
“I managed a few dives before the, uh, interruption, sir. It is spectacular. If you ever want to dive, I can recommend Chaz Davis. He’s got a dive shop and boat.”
“I’ll keep him in mind.” Townsend came around the table, extending a hand to Adler, then to Grant. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Hope you can visit our lovely country again.”
“I hope we can, sir,” Grant replied.
Townsend walked with them to the parking lot. As they settled in the car, he leaned toward the open window. “When will you be leaving Newquay?”
“Early tomorrow morning, sir. Our flight is scheduled to leave Mildenhall in the afternoon.”
Townsend extended his hand again, which Grant grasped firmly. “Fair winds, gentlemen.”
His internal clock brought him out of a sound sleep at 0500 hours. Laying on his back, with his left leg hanging over the edge of the bed, Grant slowly opened his eyes. Trying to get his bearings, he rubbed his eyes then blinked a couple of times. Morning light was showing through a space between the curtains.
The soft sound of her breathing and warmth of her body made him turn his head. She had her back to him, her body covered with a sheet and blanket. Her brown hair was no longer in a braid, but fell loosely on the pillow.
Smiling briefly, Grant carefully eased himself out of bed, then picked up his clothes from the side chair. He felt around the floor for his shoes before remembering he left them by the couch in the living room the night before. Walking from the bedroom, he closed the door quietly behind him.
Draping his clothes over the couch, he picked up his trousers, stepped into them, then buckled his belt. He went to the window and pulled a curtain to the side, just enough to let in some light. He leaned toward the window, looking overhead. The beginning of the day was starting with light cloud cover, but there was a glimmer of sunlight on the horizon. Finally, no fog, and no rain.
A small B&B across the street and one block down, still had a light on its sign above the door. A small white delivery truck stopped in front. The driver got out and put a small wooden crate in front of the door. He returned to the truck then drove away.
Walking back to the couch, Grant noticed the two wine glasses and empty bottle of Riesling on the coffee table. The bouquet of flowers he bought still looked and smelled fresh. He put on his T-shirt before taking the glasses to the kitchen sink.
Walking barefooted to the small bathroom, he had just enough time to splash some cold water on his face and swish some around in his mouth.
After tying the laces of his sneakers, he put on his jacket. With one more glance at the bedroom, he decided to leave a note. He clicked the top of the ballpoint then reached for a napkin on the coffee table.
He wrote:
Abigail,
Didn’t want to wake you, but I had to get on the road early; have a long drive to London. Had a great time last night! Enjoyed meeting your friends.
Take care of yourself.
Grant
He looked around for a place to leave the note, then laid it next to an electric tea kettle on the counter where she was bound to see it.
Grabbing his baseball cap from the coat rack by the door, he quietly left the flat.
During his drive to the base, he thought about Abigail Hall. Their brief encounter left him wondering if he’d ever be able to settle down. There’d been a number of women in his life since Jenny. But losing her, without being able to see or talk with her before she died, left a feeling of guilt that kept interfering with his life. Maybe he needed to talk to Dr. Freud.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled in front of the barracks, seeing Adler standing near the door with one foot propped on a bench. He gave Grant a quick two finger salute.
Grant put the car in neutral, set the hand brake, and got out. As he walked toward Adler, he said, “Aren’t you the early bird!”
“No more than you!” He bent down and picked up his rucksack, adjusted it on his shoulder before lifting a small leather satchel and his wetsuit bag. As Grant reached down for his own gear, Adler said, “I take it you said your goodbyes.”
Walking to the MG, Grant nodded. “Yeah. Hey, didn’t have time to ask you, but how are you and Beth making out?”
Adler dropped his gear behind the car. “We aren’t. She decided to move on.”
“Jesus, Joe. I’m sorry to hear that. You think both of us might need to talk with the good ‘doctor’?” Grant asked, flashing a grin.
Adler was temporarily stumped, then it dawned on him. “We’d probably have our own chapter!”
Grant unlocked the trunk then lifted the lid.
Adler looked inside the small space. “You think all our shit’s gonna fit in there?”
“We can be imaginative in packing, unless, of course, you’d rather wait for another chopper.”
“Hell, no! I wouldn’t pass up the chance driving with you ‘hell bent for leather’ along the hedgerows!” He dropped his wetsuit bag in the trunk. “How the hell long’s this trip?”
“About seven hours, depending on speed and wind direction!” Putting the last bag in the trunk, Grant closed the lid.
“Captain! Lieutenant!” Chief Becker called, being followed by the EOD team.
Grant and Adler stepped away from the MG. “What’s up, Chief?” Grant asked.
“We just wanted to say good-bye, sirs, and thank you.”
Both officers shook each man’s hand. Grant said, “Appreciate it, Chief, men. Listen, if you’re ever in D.C., look us up, okay?”
“Yes, sir!” Becker replied, smiling.
“Guess we’d better hit the road,” Grant said, opening the door.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Adler proclaimed.
“What?”
Reaching inside his jacket, Adler took out a pair of sunglasses. “My last day here, and the freakin’ sun finally makes an appearance!”
Grant laughed as he got in the car. “Told you the rain was your fault!”
Adler slammed the door. “Just drive! And stay away from those damn hedgerows!”
Chapter 23
Grant drove his black ’74 Vette sports coupe into the NIS parking lot. He pulled into a parking space marked: Special Operations Officer. Grabbing his cap off the seat, he got out. He gave his service dress whites a quick inspection before putting on his cap. Instinctively, he adjusted it so the brim was one and a half inches above his eyebrows.
As he walked to the main door, he gave his submariner a quick glance. Then he heard a familiar sound — the rumbling engine of Adler’s ’67 red Mustang pulling up next to him.
“Mornin’, skipper!”
Grant managed a quick two finger salute before Adler drove off looking for a parking space. Within a minute, he was jogging toward Grant.
Grant asked, “New uniform?”
Adler looked down. “What? This old thing?”
“And I see you had breakfast.”
“Huh?” Adler glanced at his uniform shirt, picked off two crumbs, then popped them into his mouth. “Biscuit remnants.”
They took the elevator then made the walk down the hallway, approaching the office of Rear Admiral Torrinson, prepared to present their case.