Harold and the Angel of Death Read online

  A brown-haired woman in a thong bikini strolled across his field of vision. He allowed his gaze to linger as she walked down the sidewalk.

  “Uh-hum.”

  Harold winced at the sound of Darla’s familiar voice.

  Sarcasm dripped from her words, “Are you sure you don’t want to take a picture for later?”

  He turned to find Darla with her arms crossed and a smile on her face. She was obviously amused by her own comments and his red face.

  “I, uh…didn’t see you there,” Harold replied guiltily.

  Darla relaxed her arms and slipped her hand into his. “Obviously. I doubt you would have noticed a shark attack. Should I wear one of those?”

  “No,” he replied. “I would hate to have to beat down the first guy I caught gawking at you.”

  Darla released his hand. “What’s good for the goose, dear. Anyway, let’s head over to the bar. I’m sure Garcia and Chuck are waiting on us.”

  “Where’s Doc?”

  “Knowing the good doctor, he probably was there before anybody else.”

  “Why do you think that?” asked Harold curiously.

  Darla began to walk, and he followed her cue. She answered him as they kept a steady pace. “I think Joshua is in a hurry to get back to Maria. They haven’t been married that long after all. I was outside on my patio reading, and he passed by my room at least four times talking into his cell phone. Joshua is very good at keeping conversations private, but I could tell by the strain on his face he must have been talking with Maria. Only you and Maria really can cause him that level of consternation.”

  The bar was a sprawling affair. Surrounded by tables shaded by prawn roofs, the bar was a building without any exterior walls. Dark and faded wood housed a large U-shaped bar that encompassed every sort of liquor bottle one could ever imagine. They all sat nestled on wooden shelves that could be found on every side of the barkeeper’s domain. Tap levers holding beers from big labels to small microbreweries nobody had ever heard about lined an entire side.

  Harold spied Garcia and Joshua sitting at the bar at the same time Darla did. He had seen Garcia’s sunglasses before he saw Garcia. Joshua sat next to him, and the two men appeared to be in an animated discussion at the bar. Four other patrons were scattered about the large multi-sided bar. A man and woman sat together. They were obviously a couple, and judging from her Valentino handbag, they were probably from the yacht club. The two other men sat on opposite ends of the bar from each other.

  One of the lone men at the bar wore white khaki shorts, a pink polo, and white tennis shoes with white socks. The other man had short sandy hair parted on the side. He wore a short-sleeve blue plaid sports shirt and chewed on a cigar. The man appeared to be so involved in the soccer match playing on the television screen that he didn’t notice his cigar had long since extinguished.

  Harold noticed Garcia and Joshua stopped their conversation as the two of them drew close.

  “You’re late,” said Garcia.

  “No, you’re early,” responded Harold.

  Harold and Darla slid onto a barstool. He looked over at Garcia. “Where’s our new friend?”

  Both Darla and Garcia nodded towards the far side of the bar. Harold looked over to find it empty. He turned back to see the stranger with the unlit cigar standing between Darla and Garcia.

  Squeezing the stogie between his teeth and grinning lips, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Chuck, and you must be Harry.”

  Harold took Chuck’s hand. “Harold.”

  “Gotcha,” said Chuck. He reached over to Joshua and gave him a friendly pat on the back. “And you must be the famous psychiatrist Garcia has told me about. I looked you up on the internet, Doctor. You’re quite the man.”

  Joshua gave Chuck a cursory glance. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

  Chuck took out his cigar and spit bits of tobacco leaf on the ground. “Not even your blog?”

  Joshua turned his attention back to Chuck. “Oh, of course you should believe everything you find there.”

  Chuck stuck the stogie back in his mouth. He waved his hand, and the bartender joined the group. “Rum runners for my friends. Put it on my tab.”

  “Yes, sir,” responded the bartender, and he left to make the drinks.

  “Why don’t we move over to a table?” Garcia suggested.

  The group made their way to a covered wooden table. Darla sat on one side of Harold, and Joshua on the other. Chuck and Garcia sat next to one another across from Harold.

  Chuck pulled out a lighter. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  “Yes,” Joshua, Darla, and Harold all answered in unison.

  “Doctor, a little birdie told me you like an occasional cigar.”

  Joshua’s eyes widened. “I’m surprised you know so much about me. I do indeed, but I loathe the smell of any brand but my own.”

  “What brand would that be?”

  “I recently developed an affinity for Eiroa cigars, but the mood has to strike me, and frankly I’m not in the mood at the moment.”

  Chuck clamped down hard on his cigar as he spoke. “Fair enough.”

  He put away his lighter, pulled out his cigar, spit out a piece of tobacco leaf on the ground, and left the partial blunt between his fingers while he let his hand dangle by the chair. “So, you’re Garcia’s team.”

  Harold raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know if we would call ourselves a team.”

  Chuck replied, “Yea, I guess you don’t feel that way. I understand Agent Garcia has you by the short hairs.”

  He could feel his back tighten with stress. “What do you mean?”

  Chuck stuck the unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth and bit down on it. Harold was surprised how adept the man was at speaking with gritted teeth. “He tells me your company is facing some pretty dire straits thanks to the late John Richmond. I had an opportunity to get to know that man. Good job dispatching him, by the way. He was a bad seed. I never trusted him.”

  “I see.” Harold looked over at Garcia and back at Chuck. “It sounds like Garcia has let out all our little secrets.”

  Chuck pulled out his cigar and let out a short chuckle. He laid the burned stogie in the ashtray. “Garcia didn’t tell me everything. I checked you all out. Do you think I’d take the word of a dirty CIA agent? For instance, I know you and Darla are an item. I appreciate you both keeping to business while we’re meeting. I know the doctor is married to a woman who was an illegal immigrant. Nice job, Doctor. Given the current political climate, it’s a miracle you and Harold were able to get a legal status for the marriage. It seems the politicians are more concerned with being reelected these days than they are with the sanctity of marriage and family.”

  Joshua gave a cautious nod. “Well, the Browns have done a lot for their community, and Harold is considered somewhat of a local hero. I doubt I had much pull in the matter.”

  Chuck slapped Joshua on the shoulder. “Garcia’s right. You’re a humble man. Humble and persuasive. That can make someone very trustworthy or dangerous, am I right?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Chuck turned back to Harold. “Did you know your buddy Garcia is dirty? I have a feeling you didn’t. He’s been looking for a company he could source arms through. You see, my team checked him out too. I bet you didn’t know he has a few offshore accounts with several million dollars in them.”

  Harold’s hands clenched into fists, and he dropped them below the table so nobody could see. He turned towards Garcia and glared at him. “Is that true? You have a few million dollars offshore?” he asked in a low guttural voice.

  Garcia’s sunglasses looked in Harold’s direction. “What difference does it make?”

  “I didn’t take on John to jump into bed with someone just as greedy and dirty.”

  Garcia was silent for a moment, and Harold wondered what was going through his mind, and where he was looking.

  Garcia turned his sunglasses Chuck’s direction. “I�
�m afraid Mr. Brown has some trust issues. You see, John tried to take everything from Harold, including his girlfriend.”

  Darla grimaced. “That man was a letch.”

  “So, Harold is concerned I might be pulling the same stunt,” Garcia said.

  Chuck laughed, reached over, and smacked Harold’s large shoulder. “Is that true, big boy? I can’t imagine that you have anything to worry about.”

  Harold felt Darla’s foot slowly apply pressure on top of his own. He caught the hint. “I suppose I don’t, but you can’t be too careful.”

  Darla elbowed him. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Harold startled at the strength of her nudge and looked over into her eyes. “Of course, I do, but I’m not sure I trust our friend sitting across from us.”

  “Do I hear trouble in paradise?” Chuck asked mockingly.

  “No, just youthful caution,” Garcia said. “We’re all good, right, Harold?”

  Harold nodded and forced himself to smile. “Oh yea, I’m just having flashbacks I suppose.”

  Chuck played the table like the bongos for a moment with his hands. “Good. I would hate to have something mess with our plans.”

  Chuck picked up his cigar but appeared to change his mind and put it back down. A waiter walked over with their drinks. He placed the glasses in front of everybody and left them to silently enjoy their drinks. Harold stopped sipping when his glass was half empty.

  “Thirsty?” asked Garcia.

  “Yes.”

  Chuck took a second quick sip. “Back to business.”

  “Is that what this is?” Joshua asked. “I thought we were getting to know each other.”

  Chuck reached over and smacked Joshua in the arm. “It’s all business, Doctor. For instance, I bet you’re wondering what you’re doing here. Garcia probably asked you to help with Harold, and you probably think it’s a waste of time and miss your new bride, but Harold is your friend.”

  Joshua glanced over at Garcia. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Chuck answered Joshua, “The good agent has told me about Harold’s temper. We don’t want to upset him. After all, he’s been through a lot.” Chuck turned his attention to Harold. “No offense, I know you’re sitting right there.”

  “None taken,” said Harold.

  Joshua fell silent. He just continued looking in the direction of Garcia and Chuck. Chuck returned his gaze for several seconds, and Harold wondered what both men were thinking.

  Chuck broke away his gaze and returned his attention to Harold. “Don’t worry. The good agent here doesn’t know your medical records. He just shared with me some of the highlights from the local newspapers. Looks like you really got lucky.”

  Harold took a short sip of his drink and eyed Chuck in the process. He allowed himself to smile as he and Chuck continued their staring contest. Harold finally asked, “Lucky? How do you mean?”

  Chuck looked both directions and then lowered his voice. “John falling and breaking his neck like that. The paper said an anonymous source from the police department claimed his gun was buried in his temple barrel first. Is that true?”

  Harold waved off Chuck’s question. “Well, it’s an anonymous source, so you can’t trust them.”

  Chuck leaned back and took a long swallow from his glass before putting it down and letting out a sigh. He leaned towards Harold. “Come on, big guy, you can tell me. Did you bury that gun in his head?”

  “That sounds a little crazy if you ask me. I’m not a little guy, but I don’t know anyone with that kind of strength.”

  Chuck rolled his eyes and then looked over at Garcia and spoke normally. “I like them. I believe they’re trustworthy enough. I trust them more than I do you.”

  Garcia’s sunglasses looked over at Chuck. “Good. When do we meet the rest of your team?”

  “Oh, you already have.” Chuck lifted his hand and gave two quick waves with his index and middle fingers. The waiter walked back over to the table, and the man in the pink polo left the bar and walked towards them. Both took their places behind Chuck.

  “Everyone, let me introduce you to the most trusted members of my team. Darla, I believe you’ve met one of these men.” Chuck pointed to the waiter on his right. He was a small man around five feet five inches. He had dark brown skin and short black hair. His black eyes shot an icy streak through Harold’s gut. The man’s gaze appeared deader inside than John’s did in Harold’s dreams. “This is Haidar, a young man I rescued in northern Africa. I found him in the deserts of Libya. He was starving, thirsty, and nearly dead. He’d escaped from an ISIS offshoot.”

  “Kidnapped?” asked Darla.

  “No, he was a soldier in their army, but he didn’t see things their way, did you?”

  Haidar’s voice was hard and cold. “No, they were not true believers.”

  “And what do you believe?” asked Joshua.

  Haidar stood silently.

  “Well, answer the good doctor,” said Chuck.

  Haidar’s voice hissed with hate as he pronounced each word, “I believe my people need to take their country back from those who have come in and tried to corrupt our people.”

  “Like America?” asked Joshua.

  Haidar snarled as he answered, “Anyone who would ruin our beautiful country and steal our faith. We got rid of the brutal dictator Gaddafi, and now we have warlords who want nothing more than to enslave us, sell our oil, and make themselves rich. Our people deserve freedom and to live as Allah wills.”

  Chuck reached up and gently squeezed the young man’s hand. “You see, none of us know what these small countries have to deal with. Haidar’s parents were killed in a firefight between ISIS and the Shura Council of Benghazi Revolutionaries. They were caught in the crossfire before his family could get to safety. ISIS fighters offered Haidar food, shelter, and protection from the other factions, but things changed.”

  “They raped women and murdered small children for fun,” Haidar said. “They claimed to be real believers, but they are just like the others.”

  “So, now he’s with me,” Chuck said.

  Garcia turned and looked through his sunglasses at the two men standing behind Chuck. He looked back down at Chuck. “I thought you were selling arms to ISIS.”

  Chuck nodded. “A different faction in a different part of the country. Many of these militias identify with one group or another to recruit soldiers.”

  Joshua looked up at Haidar. “And you’re okay with this?”

  Haidar’s voice softened a bit. “Yes. As Mr. Chuck has explained it to me, somebody has to win the civil war or the fighting will go on for generations. The men who buy our weapons are true believers. I have spoken to them myself.”

  Joshua said nothing else. Harold wondered if the young man trusted Chuck or was simply using him to find a faction of fellow believers who would one day kill Chuck and walk away with whatever bounty they could find. Harold looked over at Darla, but she appeared to be busy sizing up Chuck and his team.

  “This other gentleman is Nigel,” Chuck continued.

  Nigel shook everyone’s hand. “Pleasure.”

  “My British contact. How have you been?” asked Darla.

  Nigel gave a slight bow of his head. “Fine. I never had the chance to ask you, have you made it over to my country?”

  Darla clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ve been there a few times, although I believe you may be from somewhere in the southern part of the island. I have not had much time there.”

  “I am most impressed you picked up on my accent. I’ve worked very hard to hide it, although I’m not very successful in the attempt. The crown isn’t always welcomed everywhere we go. That’s why I like coming back to the colonies. Everyone here is so friendly to the crown.”

  Darla’s lips curved slightly. “Well, this part of the US belonged to Spain, but I understand the sentiment. What parts of the world dislike your accent?”

  Chuck jumped in, “Nigel is my middle man for my arms d
ealings with our ISIS friends in northern Africa. The British don’t have a very good reputation over in Africa.”

  “But they still have all the connections,” Garcia said. “Many of these militias see the British as a necessary evil, so they’re tolerated.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” said Joshua.

  “It can be, but without me the warlords can’t get their weapons,” Nigel responded. “At least not the weapons they really want.”

  Chuck reached down and picked up his cigar. Haidar and Nigel stepped back, and Chuck stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. After a flame and a few puffs, his dead cigar was alight once more. “It’s been a pleasure. Agent Garcia, I’ll call you when we’re ready to meet again.”

  Garcia clumsily stood up and extended his hand. “I guess we’re done.”

  “Yes,” said Chuck.

  The three men turned and walked towards the parking lot. Garcia sat back down.

  “Is it over?” asked Harold.

  Darla reached over and took his hand. “Yes, we can relax now.”

  “How do you know?”

  Garcia interjected, “Well, we are not actually alone. I have people in the resort. They are watching a handful of Chuck’s team. They’re nothing to worry about. They’re just here to ensure the CIA doesn’t decide to suddenly arrest Chuck.”

  Harold turned to Darla. “Why don’t you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Just arrest Chuck.”

  Garcia jumped back in, “We don’t want just Chuck. We want his whole operation, and more importantly, who he is selling weapons to. Chuck is a dangerous man, but his customers are the ones who are doing the real damage to the world.”

  Joshua began to look around.

  “You can relax, Doctor. We’re safe,” said Darla.

  “I was just wondering where the fourth member of the team is.”

  “Fourth member, Doctor?” asked Garcia.