Page 23 of D-Day

D-Day took a breath, then set down the bottle, playing for time. He leaned forward, scowling, his voice hard. He was from Massachusetts and had never even looked at a surfboard much less surfed. He’d never been interested in it when he’d been stationed at Coronado. So, he was clueless about most of the lingo and the techniques. But Bailee filled in the information through his comm. “That was Bells, mate, and you rushed the wave, broke your collarbone, too. Me? As cool as a cucumber and I saved your ass. You off your nut?”

Fisher didn’t exactly relax, but being in an illegal business tended to put a guy on edge. D-Day picked up his bottle and drained it. “What merchandise are you peddling to the NPA?”

Fisher shrugged. “Something that goes boom,” he said vaguely.

Bailee’s voice came through his comm. “He’s suspicious and is clamming up. Get out of there. We’ll pick him up and get the information out of him. I don’t like him in play anyway.”

“I’m heading back into the jungle tomorrow. Giving Taer and Lando another go. I’ll put in a good word. Good luck with your deal.”

He slipped off the bar stool and headed for the door, but before he had pushed more than a couple of steps, he felt aknife prick the skin of his lower back. “Let’s have another chat, mate,” Fisher said, turning him toward the back and forcing him through the crowd.

“Have you gone troppo?” D-Day growled. “I’ll rip out your heart.”

The knife dug just a tad deeper. “Shut it and move.”

Fisher shoved him through the back door and pushed him toward a wall, the smell of garbage strong, the knife against his throat. D-Day didn’t allow him to completely trap him against the wall. That wouldn’t allow him leverage in this situation. Fisher was focused on controlling him, not checking how far away he was from the wall. The only indication was D-Day’s body stopping as if he’d made contact. “Who are you?”

Fisher was right-handed, which meant the handle of the knife was to his left and moving that way would keep the blade away from his throat. But the rule of thumb was to try to talk his way out of it. “I’m the guy who’s going to shove that knife in your neck if you don’t come to your senses.”

Fisher didn’t budge. D-Day had to get him to drop his guard by continuing to stay in character. “You’re not Graham. I can’t put my finger on it, but Graham’s an asshole. He never said good luck once in his life. He always told me to bugger off when he left.”

D-Day met Buck’s eyes over Fisher’s shoulder as he placed his Glock muzzle against the back of the man’s head. “Never bring a knife to a gunfight,” Buck said. “Drop it.”

For just a moment, something flashed in Fisher’s eyes as if he would rather slash D-Day’s throat than surrender. D-Day needed to distract him.

“Come on, mate. New body, new attitude. Who says a man can’t change? I saved your life, and if I was that big an asshole, I would have just saved my own skin.”

Fisher faltered and the knife slackened from his throat. It was the opening he needed. He grabbed Fisher’s knife hand, slid to the left, ducked, and twisted Fisher’s arm behind his back. Putting pressure on his thumb made him release the knife with a growl.

Fifteen minutes later, a hooded Fisher ended up at TOC as D-Day and Buck forced him down into a chair. Zorro removed the hood.

“Who are you people?” Fisher demanded. He glared at them when they remained silent. “It’s like you’re Graham’s twin. It’s…uncanny, but you’re Company, aren’t you?”

Bailee came into the room with a file folder. Fisher looked at her.

D-Day clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s Company. We’re just the muscle.”

They filed out of the room.

Ten minutes later, Bailee returned to TOC. “That was fast,” Joker said.

“He has a wife and a two-year-old. No-brainer tactics.” She set his file down and sighed. “He had six cruise missiles ready for transport to the NPA. These were going to be their delivery vehicles. That right now is dead in the water, but we’re not safe until we get those triggers back. While they’re still in play, there’s a risk they’ll find another seller for the missiles.” Her face brightened. “That could work in our favor. With Fisher’s deal gone, you have an opportunity to pick up where he’s left off, D-Day.”

“I’ll conveniently have in my possession six cruise missiles?”

She patted his cheek as she passed. “You are a quick study.” She picked up the phone and pressed in a number, then started speaking in Tagalog. While she was on the phone, D-Day grabbed Zorro by the collar and hauled him away from the group. Buck was debriefing Joker, so they had a few minutes.

“I need time to figure all this out, Zorro. Don’t shoot your mouth off to Buck before I have a chance to deal with this. It’s my business.”

“Bullshit. Your state of mind is very much our business, D. We need you front and center at all times, and this kind of crap is what gets you dead. So, it is my business.”

Fuck it. Zorro was right. It affected his performance when his mind was in free fall over Helen. “Fuck it, Z. Give me some time here before we blow this up. Buck will be just as distracted as I am. You’re a neutral third party, so can I count on you to have my back with this?”

“I’m really surprised at you. We’re fucking mind ninjas. Why haven’t you dealt with this before now?” D-Day had just been trying to do the right thing here, and somehow, he’d gotten tangled in his own web. “Let me refresh your memory. Humans have three acute stress responses when confronted with life-threatening situations: fight, flight, and freeze. All species have them from cockroaches to humans. You know the response depends on the situation. But freezing in our line of work is the worst-case scenario.”

“I’m not freezing,” D-Day snapped, insulted that Zorro was basically comparing him to someone with no training. A freaking rube.

Zorro’s brows rose. “Aren’t you?” He raised his hand and ticked off each finger. “Drinking. Fighting. Withdrawing. Withholding. Hiding.” Zorro met his eyes like a barreling freight train, the muscles in his jaw rigid. D-Day’s gut churned. Having Zorro point out each of his transgressions over the past six months made him a little sick to acknowledge each one.

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