Page 19 of Good Enough

Waters began spitting out orders. “I want eyes inside her house and trailer. You’ll have to get in during the day tomorrow. She said she’d be at the studio starting at eight a.m. I’ll try to lure her out earlier to breakfast. What’s the ETA for the rest of the team?”

“Dumb and Dumber are en route. Just doing an overnight stop to drop off the defector with his new baseball team. TB got back an hour ago from his little side job.”

That left just one player out of the mix. “And Demon?”

Midas looked at him and shrugged, his face noncommittal. “His week off. Not a fucking clue. Somewhere with a vat of Sex Wax, I’m guessing.”

Great. Demon’s out “hanging ten,” and I need help with recon. Perfect.

“Okay, so I need a few more things.”

“Deep dives on Kubrick, Ka-Bar, and Big Bird.” Midas started clicking away on one of his many keyboards. “Already started. You should have final reports on all three by morning, but I’ll continue digging even after that.”

“Why didn’t we know about the Kubrick/Ka-Bar connection?”

Midas huffed in frustration. “Because they’re both adopted.” Head shaking, he continued, “Basically, it’s because they aren’t blood-related. And both have their real parents on their documents, so the relationship, or lack of it officially, was not obvious.”

“How the hell does that happen?”

“Their ‘adopted’ parents are their godparents. Both sets of biological parents were killed when Kubrick and Ka-Bar were young, and the third couple were the named godparents for both kids, so when the kids were orphaned, the third couple took them in. Not atypical adoptions, but no one ever bothered to make it legal, hence why I didn’t find it.”

“Got it. Anything there look like it might be related to the marker being called in?”

With a shake of his head, Midas turned his attention back to Waters. “No. Both sets of parents were killed in separate accidents, but there’s no link between the deaths, and there’s never been anything threatening to either of the kids. Ka-Bar’s family were some kind of archaeological ambassadors—mother was a British national; father was American, both professors with expertise in ancient Egypt—killed in a car crash by a drunk driver in Cairo.” Midas cleared his throat as he snuck a look at his boss. “Sorry, Boss.”

Waters waved off the apology. Yeah, definitely a place to forget. His own fault as to why, but the guys had to stop getting twitchy like they were bringing up an ex-wife someone on the team was sleeping with. “Continue.”

“Kubrick’s family were British born but lived in the U.S. most of their lives other than Oxford schooling, which is how the three couples—Ka-Bar’s parents, Kubrick’s parents, and the godparents—met. Mother was a socialite with a minor royal connection. Her father worked at the embassy in Washington, D.C. They were killed in a personal seaplane crash just off the coast of Athens while on vacation. Four years between deaths, six years difference between the two kids, and they look nothing alike, so while I shouldn’t have overlooked the relationship, it’s not all that surprising. I’m used to digging for information, not having it in plain sight.”

“No worries, Midas. Only connection seems to be the Egyptian Embassy, but in your abundant free time, keep looking.” Midas winked and took another bite of his candy bar with the label still clearly in view. Waters shifted in his seat. “Anything immediate on Big Bird?”

“Other than he has some serious issues with women, no.”

“Do tell.”

“In summary, he’s a douchebag overall and a real pain in the ass to any woman who’s trying to make it through the glass ceiling. Kubrick seems to handle him much better than most. A couple of formal complaints against him, but mostly just for being…” Midas scrutinized a screen to his right, squinting. “‘A number-crunching Neanderthal who can’t read his own spreadsheet with the help of a shit-flinging monkey.’ Huh. Not sure where the monkey comes in, but it certainly creates an image.” Midas laughed. “Fuck, Boss. Your girl is unfiltered.” He flipped a screen or two. “I’ve been keeping a list. Asshat, Assclown, Assnozzle—I think she shares your ass fetish, you lucky bastard.” Waters grunted. “Fucktwat—very British, must get that from Mom—I like it; Ruptured Douchebag—ewww; Man Whoring Sycophant, and God’s personal favorite, Jizzmop.” Midas started laughing hard. “But this is the best: ‘Try that douchebaggery again, and I will kick your ass so hard that your vertebrae will spit out of your mouth one-by-one like a Pez dispenser.’” He looked at his boss with a shit-eating grin. “Whatever you do, don’t piss her off.”

Waters rolled his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t think I want to know what provoked that comment.”

Midas’ face went serious. “Let’s just say, the threat fits the cause. She can clearly take care of herself, which rumor has it, is hot.” Midas winked.

Waters shook his head in disgust.

“I have to admit I’m surprised she still has a job after some of what she’s put in print to him, but… I’m thinking he’s a masochist and figures that it’s all foreplay.”

Waters went stone cold. “Has he threatened her physically?”

“Easy, tiger. No, you know I would have led with any sort of threat, physical or otherwise. It’s more demeaning her gender and verbally harassing her staff. Not physical. But the guy is clearly a Fucktwat,” Midas agreed with one of Kubrick’s assessments.

“Definitely not going to be alone with him again.”

“What’s that, Boss?”

“Nothing, Midas. Just proved my instincts were right about the man.” Waters leaned his outside elbow on the window frame, his index finger running back and forth on his lip, his eyes staring out into the night. “Get some sleep now while things are quiet. My brain is saying that this will get twitchy at some point, and then no one will be sleeping.”

“Copy that, Boss. I’ll get you some coverage ASAP so that you can stock up on sleep yourself. Never know when you might need the reserves.” Midas gave one final smirk, taking another chunk off his candy bar.

Waters blacked out his screen.

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