Читать книгу Crisis: Blue - J. A. Davis - Страница 13

Chapter 7

The day’s massive storm front had passed, but in its wake winter’s first cold front descended upon the little town of Carencrow. However, on this frigid, dark night the only vestiges of Old Man Winter’s violence were scores of slush puddles, downed tree limbs, and a dense, wavy patchwork of pine needles.

Rex and Trissy arrived at Rula’s shortly before eight and were greeted by Rogé, a tall, distinguished Frenchman. Rula’s was a quaint restaurant nestled in a dense forest of tall pine trees adjacent to the banks of the mighty Cajun River. The stone fireplace was stoked and the fire was raging. The explosions of light, along with the snapping and crackling of the wood as it burned, added to the ambiance. Old Blue Eyes was singing “I Did It My Way” overhead just loud enough to mask the conversations radiating from each table.

“Halloween night and the place is absolutely packed. Whatever happened to trick-or-treating?” Rex wondered.

“Ah, Dr. and Mrs. Bent, it’s so very good to see you again. Your table will be ready shortly. Would you care to indulge yourselves at the bar?” Rogé asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“It’s the indulging which gets me into trouble, Rogé, but, as always, I shall follow your expert advice,” Rex replied to the seasoned maître d’. Rogé smiled in appreciation, leading them through the crowd toward the only empty bar stools.

In stark contrast to Rogé’s French accent, the bartender, Bubba, had a thick cajun drawl.

“Ah, nice to see ya again,” Bubba said with genuine fondness as his face lit up, and his eyes began to sparkle. “Have some good drink. What can I get?”

“Let me see. Oh yes, I remember: a Cosmopolitan, please,” Trissy requested with her usual panache.

“Dat’s good, and for you, Dr. Bent—da usual?” Bubba asked respectfully, although he had an uncanny ability to remember faces, names, and the customer’s favorite libation—especially those who tipped handsomely.

“Certainly. Do you remember the recipe?” Rex asked before looking into Trissy’s sparkling brown eyes.

“Of course: three healthy shots of our premium rum, two light and one dark. In fact, I’ll even include da secret ingredient,” Bubba responded without hesitation, adding a little suspense to what was now his signature creation.

“Precisely, but what exactly is da secret ingredient?” Rex inquired with some reservation.

“It’s a secret, but I’m telling you dat it’s da very best—guar-on-teed,” Bubba assured his reluctant customer.

“You’ve sold me Bubba,”

“Excellent, one ‘Stumbling Drunk’ Mai Tai, coming right up,” Bubba replied with a smile, while cleaning off the highly polished but well-worn wooden counter.

“Rex, I think I am going to start calling you Doctor Mai Tai,” Trissy suggested.

“I like it. The moniker has a good ring to….” Rex suddenly paused. His eyes had caught a special news bulletin as it flashed on the TV screen behind the bar. Bubba noticed it as well and immediately turned up the volume.

“FLASH—we apologize for interrupting tonight’s LSU football game. The John C. Stennis Carrier Strike Group was attacked early this morning, shortly after entering the Persian Gulf. Given the tension in the region, the strike group was to reinforce the fifth fleet. Information is sketchy, but our high-ranking sources tell us that several vessels have been severely damaged, and it is estimated that as many as a thousand sailors and marines have been killed. It appears that the ships were ambushed after sailing through the narrow Strait of Hormuz. Reportedly, the attack was carried out by sea and air forces originating from Tunb as Sughra, or Lesser Tunb, a small island on the eastern side of the Persian Gulf. Although the Iranians control Lesser Tunb, they have vehemently denied knowledge and/or involvement.”

“Oh no,” Rex whispered in disbelief.

“Iran believes Islamic radicals are to blame. After all of her recent efforts to establish peace in that part of the world, the president is reportedly outraged, but stopped short of calling this attack an ‘act of war.’ The military has been placed on high alert but the threat level in the United States has not been raised. Two additional Carrier Strike Groups are reportedly steaming toward the region. It is anticipated that the president will speak to the American people later tonight. Only the prime ministers of Great Britain and Australia, thus far, have openly expressed their condolences. As always, Fox News will keep you informed, as this tragedy at sea unfolds; this is Ram Reynolds reporting.”

“Good God!” Rex gasped. “It’s another Pearl Harbor.”

“Well, so much for diplomacy in the land of Islam,” Trissy complained angrily. Rex surged through denial as he struggled to come to grips with the gravity of the news.

“I just can’t believe it. All those brave men and women—lost!”

“Dr. Bent, your table is ready. If you would, please follow me,” Rogé requested. However, Rex did not move, and now appeared to be in a daze, along with the many other loyal Americans sitting at the bar. All were stunned by the shocking attack in the Persian Gulf.

“Rex, honey, our table is ready,” Trissy whispered, tugging on his arm.

“Yes, of course,” Rex replied softly as Trissy eased herself off the barstool.

“Your usual table,” Rogé announced with pride as he pulled out Trissy’s chair.

“Rex, snap out of it,” Trissy insisted. “Perhaps the story is wrong. Reporters embellish everything.”

“Doubtful,” Rex replied. As he stared out the window at the Cajun River, a vision of the young man who had drowned in the river earlier in the day suddenly appeared.

“What looks good to you?” Trissy asked after a few moments.

“Huh?”

“Food,” Trissy said as she pointed to his menu.

“Oh, yes. Well, after a diet of bunker buster burgers this week, the catfish,” Rex concluded.

“That does sound like the safest choice. However, I think I’ll stick with my usual,” Trissy concluded, closing her menu.

“Good evening. I’m your waiter, Tunk. What looks good?”

“Trissy will have the salmon and a bowl of the asparagus soup. I’ll have your blackened catfish and a dozen oysters on the half shell, please,” Rex requested, pleased he had arrived at a decision regarding their meals without his customary two-drink minimum.

“Very good, sir, but I feel I must inform you of the recent outbreak of Hepatitis A,” Tunk replied candidly.

“In that case, I believe I’ll have a Caesar salad,” Rex said, looking at the elderly waiter. Suddenly, Tunk’s complexion turned ashen, his eyes oscillating back and forth.

“E. Coli!” Tunk replied in a deep, drawn-out monotone.

“What?” Rex asked, bewildered.

“All the lettuce has been raised in contaminated soil with an irrigation system tied into the local sewage plant,” Tunk confessed.

“You must be joking,” Rex replied before looking at Trissy. When he turned back, the waiter had simply vanished.

“Call me paranoid, but I’d say this place is rather bizarre tonight. Rogé treats us like long-lost friends, which is difficult for any Frenchman to do. Bubba remembers what we drink. Lastly, Tunk turns into a schizophrenic zombie before he suddenly disappears,” Rex shared before taking a gulp of his Mai Tai.

“That’s true but I wonder what’s with the food contamination? Surely, he must have been pulling your leg,” Trissy rationalized, knowing it was Halloween.

“Perhaps, but don’t look now. GeeHad just arrived with two of his bodyguards,” Rex observed.

Trissy felt compelled to turn her head and look over her shoulder but resisted the urge.

“Oh, imagine that,” Rex blurted. “GeeHad is being seated at the table behind you with the elusive owner of this restaurant, Chum. I wonder what that damn North Korean is doing with him?”

Trissy couldn’t stand it any longer. Casually, she turned her head and peered over her left shoulder, focusing on their adjacent dining companions.

“Your asparagus soup, madam,” Tunk announced, startling Trissy. Suddenly, the elusive waiter had reappeared.

“Thank you,” Trissy gasped.

“And for you, Dr. Bent, our fried alligator with tangy water moccasin creole sauce, compliments of the House,” Tunk said, setting the appetizer in front of Rex.

“Rex, this soup is wonderful. You need to try it.”

“Ah, no thanks. I’m preoccupied wondering if I have the courage to try the gator.”

Moments later, the main courses arrived.

“Your salmon, madam, and our Catfish Pontchartrain, sir,” Tunk announced as he struggled to find enough space on the table to land the plates.

“That looks fantastic,” Trissy replied.

Suddenly, the conversation at the adjacent table became louder.

“How dare you!” GeeHad shouted, shaking his index finger at Chum, who sat expressionless as if disregarding GeeHad’s emotional outburst. GeeHad’s chair slammed into Trissy’s as he propelled himself back from the confines of the table. He quickly stood and continued shouting.

“Please, sit down,” Chum insisted as GeeHad threw his napkin on the table.

Trissy turned around just in time to see the angry chief executive officer storm off with his bodyguards in tow, protecting his flank. Chum motioned to her assistant, a short, stocky, steroid-injected Asian who kept his right hand inside his unbuttoned coat the entire time. He immediately withdrew his hand, buttoned his coat and walked over to her table. Chum whispered into his ear, and he left, presumably to carry out her explicit orders. The very mysterious North Korean then sipped on her wine and continued eating her dinner, as if nothing had happened.

Rex had seen the anger in GeeHad’s face, but could not hear any of the conversation.

“What in the hell was that all about, I wonder?” Rex whispered to Trissy.

“Wow, I’m not sure. I heard something about a shipment,” Trissy gasped.

“Well, perhaps in North Korea that’s considered polite dinner conversation. I just can’t imagine what that evil dynamic duo is up to. However, I would assume that they are either plotting to overthrow the country, discussing more innovative ways to steal from Medicare and Medicaid, or exchanging time-proven, medieval methods of successfully torturing their employees,” Rex concluded as he noticed Trissy’s eyes were glazed over, as if deep in thought.

“Remember, an underpaid employee who has been beaten unmercifully is more likely to fulfill your desires,” Rex added sarcastically.

“I don’t know, Rex, but my gut feeling is that there is something else going on. ‘Shipment,’ and I think I heard the word ‘Korea.’”

“Well, I just can’t believe the Cajuns have outsourced gumbo to Korea. Kimchi perhaps?” Rex wondered out loud.

Trissy smiled as the mysterious waiter reappeared.

“Will there be anything else? Dessert, or perhaps an after dinner drink?” Tunk inquired.

“Trissy, how does an Amarula sound to you?” Rex asked.

“Irresistible,” Trissy replied.

“Two Amarulas straight up, and the check please?” Rex requested, handing Tunk his credit card. Madame Chum stood up and walked away from the adjacent table.

Moments later Tunk laid the check down and scurried off after her without saying another word.

“Well, it’s been a rather unusual evening. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Rex suggested, finishing the sweet brown concoction derived from the South African marula nut.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Trissy replied as she stood.

Moments later, they left the comfort and warmth of Rula’s.

“Damn it’s cold!” Rex complained, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck and then quickly gazing at his watch. It was midnight.

“And sobering as well,” Trissy added as they dodged downed tree limbs and walked through the nearly vacant parking lot toward her car.

“With Halloween officially over, I can honestly admit that Carencrow has not lost any of its eeriness. That’s for sure!” Rex emphasized, opening the passenger side door for his nearly frozen wife.

Rex jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped in. No sooner had the Mercedes SL-500 engine roared to life than Trissy was searching for her favorite CD. As the car warmed up, Rex sat quietly, deep in thought, reflecting on the tragedy in the Persian Gulf.

Suddenly, both the silence and Rex’s trance were broken by the blaring sound of “How Deep is Your Love.”

Rex placed the car in drive, and they headed home.