Page 12 of The 9th Man

He climbed the steps and entered through a narrow door, paying the five-euro admission fee. Behind him Jillian said, “This brings back memories.”

He turned to see her standing beside a postcard rack. “Memories of me taking you to places that don’t serve beer?”

She smiled, “No, dummy, you and me on redneck dates.”

On their first outing he’d taken her to the most dilapidated putt-putt course in the state of Hawaii. Most of the artificial turf fairways sprouted grass and mushrooms. And she’d beat him. Badly. They met during a joint army-marines RIMPAC exercise at Hawaii’s Pohakuloa Training Area, a rough piece of forested real estate on a high volcanic plateau thirty miles west of Hilo. The monthlong exercise was an eight-hundred-person game of capture the flag involving laser-simulated small arms, mortars, and grenades. Each day they’d “fight” one another to digital death, and at night they’d retire to either Hilo or Waimea for a few hours of beer and bragging.

He and Jillian connected on that first night and had somehow started swapping worst-date stories, which quickly turned into the date-from-hell contest, which he’d won. Their attraction had been instantaneous and irresistible and they’d spent every available moment together. When the exercise ended, so had their romance, but not their friendship. That had endured. They’d kept in touch with the occasionalHey, how are you doing?textat holidays. Something was there between them. But not enough for either of them to acknowledge or abandon their careers for. Now here they were, as the song said,Reunited and it feels so good.

He gave her a big hug, which she returned, then whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry about Benji.”

“Me too,” she said, not letting go. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I’da been mad if you hadn’t.” He drew back, his hands still on her arms. “Are you hurt? There were a lotta bullets flying.”

“A graze on my thigh, but it’s fine. You?”

“Not a scratch.”

“Good old Luke’s Luck, right?”

He chuckled. “I chalk it up to unmatched skill and catlike—no, superhuman—reflexes.”

“It’s nice to see your ego remains at full strength.” She grinned. “Follow me. I was wrong, by the way. They’ve got a beer tasting room here.”

“Now we’re talking. Lead on.”

The museum itself was downstairs. In between exhibits, old oak casks, and copper machinery they found the tasting room, a small space of two-person standing tables lit by electric candle sconces. They ordered the standard tasters selection. The waitress deposited a tray of shot glasses on the table, then disappeared. He sampled a sip of an amber ale, then said, “So how did all this start? What do you know?”

“I brought it down on me and Benji,” she said, anguish in her voice. “I sent an email I shouldn’t have.”

“To who?”

“I don’t know.”

Odd. “What did you say in the email?”

“It was a request for information. Then seven words that most likely started the ball rolling.Tell me what you know about Kronos.”

6

LUKE WAS PUZZLED AND CONFUSED.

“What’s Kronos?” he asked her.

“I have no idea. But, apparently, it’s code for ‘come kill me.’”

And her eyes began to moisten at the bad memories.

He hadn’t seen her in several years, but little had changed. Still curvy and incredibly fit. Her hair remained the darkest black and shiny, like a raven’s feathers, but a little longer and fuller than before, down to her shoulders. She was about his age, early thirties, her face full of memorable features, especially the eyes, a pale, lovely green. Best, though, had been her confidence. Never any sign of misgiving, nervousness, or uncertainty. Always decisive and determined, which he’d really liked. He also noticed that little had changed in the fashion department. Her wardrobe outside of a military uniform was always black, white, gray. No other colors. Never. Ever. From their intermittent communications he knew she’d served five years, then did not re-up. Last he recalled she was working for a private security firm somewhere on the East Coast.

Now here they were.

“You couldn’t have known any of what would happen,” he said to her. “Let’s back up. When and where did you first hear the word Kronos?”

“From Benji.”

“Why do you call him that?”