Zahir noted, “The American forces in the Persian Gulf are almost totally destroyed. We have taken Saudi Arabia without resistance. Once they knew the Americans were defeated, they wanted to negotiate.”
Sharafan derived sadistic pleasure from the revelation.
“Europe mounted a protest, but when they learned they would not be invaded and the oil would continue to flow, they issued an official reprimand.”
Sharafan let out with a laugh. “You mean they slapped our wrist?”
“Yes sir.”
With his hands behind his back, Sharafan stood and paced the room. “You have information on the family of Beau Gex?”
“Yes Sir. Men have gone to check on his brothers. Also we learned a woman, Tracy Demarr, is related in some way.”
“Find her and bring her to me!”
A war zone surrounded the city of Corpus Christi. Even more than that, it was a war where they had lived, and the spectacle stunned the four returning brothers. What they saw was dreadful. Uncontrolled terror directed the people fleeing Corpus Christi. In the distance, they could see large columns of smoke from the vicinity of the Naval Air Station. As they entered the city, they found an empty service station and wisely filled the tanks before they continued on their way. The road into Corpus Christi was empty, but the one leaving was jammed. In an effort to escape, some dared to go the wrong way on the other side of the highway. People abandoned their cars and were on foot, taking whatever they could carry.
Above the roar of the engines, Jack yelled to Beau, “We’re gonna have to take the back roads if we expect to make it out.”
Beau knew his brother was right but for now his concern was Tracy.
Hours later they arrived at her wood frame house, only to find the front door open and the house empty. Her car was in the driveway and still running. She had not been gone long!
Beau ran from the house looking in all directions for clues to her location. Two blocks away came the sound of an explosion surrounded by sporadic gunfire followed with a column of smoke rising from a house on fire. In the distance came sounds of occasional gunfire. Across the street, he spied an old man rocking gently on his front porch, seemingly oblivious to the events or his current situation.
After a moment, Beau recalled the old man’s name. “Mr. Griffon! Mr. Griffon!” Beau screamed as he began to run toward the old man trying to attract his attention. He bolted across the street until he was in front of him. “Have you seen Tracy?”
At the sound of his name, Mr. Griffon stood. The baggy overalls sagged like the deeply furrowed cheeks on his face, but the large suspenders held up the pants. He squinted as if to see more clearly, taking the unlit pipe from his mouth. Casually, he glanced down at Beau from his concrete porch, which was about three feet above his yard.
“Beau?” Mr. Griffon’s face brightened, when he associated the face with the name. “Beau Gex! I declare.”
Mr. Griffon leaned against one of the two columns on the porch, bent his left leg, and tapped the pipe on the heel of his shoe to remove the tobacco from the already empty bowl.
Perfectly manicured azaleas and nandina lined with crepe myrtles surrounded the porch, and this was trimmed with oleanders. In the five years since his retirement, his yard had become everything.
With one stride Beau cleared the three concrete steps and stood on the porch facing Mr. Griffon. “Have you seen Tracy?”
The old man returned to his rocker, waving at the matching chair for Beau to seat himself. Patiently Beau waited for Mr. Griffon’s response, as did his brothers standing at the edge of the porch.
“Tracy?” mused Mr. Griffon, pondering the elusive answer as he squeezed his white whiskered face and closed one eye as though in deep thought. “Pretty little lady, Tracy,” he said, as he struck a match and tried to light his still empty pipe. Satisfied he had done so, he shook the match and placed it carefully in the ashtray on the old white wicker table next to his rocker. “Other men in uniforms just left. They spoke strange English. Thought they were Mexicans, but they weren’t. They wanted Tracy. I told them I hadn’t seen her.”
“You haven’t seen her?” Beau asked.
Mr. Griffon made a feeble smile and continued to rock slowly. “Yes, I saw her.”
“Where’d she go?”
“Well—,” but he was interrupted when his wife, Martha, swung the screen door open.
“Bobby!” Martha beamed, staring straight at Beau. She turned to her husband and frowned. “Poppa, why didn’t you get me when Bobby came home?” Martha beamed with a toothy laugh aimed at Beau. “Bobby, you wait here. I’ll go fix some of your favorite strawberry soda. You still like a dip of vanilla ice cream?”
Not waiting for an answer she danced merrily into the house to prepare drinks for Bobby and his friends.
“Mr. Griffon, your son, Bobby… I thought he was—”
“Dead? Yes, he died ten years ago.”
“But—”
“Martha? Oh, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise for the old girl. Sometimes I wish I was like her. I miss Bobby too; for her, he is still alive. But the old girl still loves me and that’s what counts.” He scratched his bald head in thought. “Oh, Tracy. She left just a little while ago with Scott Walker’s wife. About five minutes before those Mexicans showed up.”
“Scott Walker?” Beau quizzed
“It’s okay,” interjected Jack. “We know the Walkers.” Then he turned to Brook. “Get over to Scott’s and get Tracy. Beau and I will be right behind ya.”
Brook and Danny nodded, ran for the dune buggy, and were gone.
Again, Beau turned his attention to Mr. Griffon. His heart was heavy when he looked upon the old man. “You need to come with us. Do you know what’s happening?”
He managed a small smile and stopped rocking. “Yeah, I know. But I reckon I can’t go, I’d just slow ya down. Besides, if Martha and I didn’t get ourselves killed, we’d most likely get you killed. Everything I have is here. Tell me, where would I go? What would I do? My time is almost up.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“You must. Go. Go on, go now!” Mr. Griffon said. “And good luck.”
To leave Mr. Griffon was wrong and Beau knew it, but he had no choice. He turned and headed for the remaining buggy. No sooner did they reach it than Tracy’s next-door neighbor came running and screaming in their direction.
“Help! Please help me!” she pleaded. She grabbed Jack and pulled him toward her back yard, while Beau trailed behind. “My husband.”
Once in the back yard, they found the woman’s husband sitting in a gazebo. He appeared to be fine.
“Tell him we must leave!” she begged.
“Sir?”
“Name’s Terry Hines. I know why they sent you. You think I believe this shit is really happening? You want my commissions. Tomorrow I’ll be rich, you’ll see. The markets will open again and I will make a fortune selling short. They did this so they wouldn’t have to pay me.”
“You need to leave,” said Jack.
Unexpectedly, the man pulled a pistol hidden in the back of his shirt. His hand shook nervously.
“Leave now, or I’ll kill you. No one is taking my money!” he yelled hysterically. The shaking gun pointed in all directions.
“Hey, no problem,” said Jack, slowly backing away.
The two brothers moved away from the crazed man with their hands in the air. When they reached the buggy the woman was hysterical.
“You can come with us,” said Jack.