Sunrise IV

IV

Alongside The World's End building was a large paved brick courtyard, bordered on two sides by small trees, and the club house itself on the third. It would one day be the site of the yacht club swimming pool, but for now, it would remain a place to host weddings receptions, parties, banquets, and of course, the annual Gibson Island Staff Cotillion. The band, a Baltimore group called the Charm City Quintet, was stationed at the far corner beneath the trees. Long banquet buffet tables adorned in bright white linens covered the far end of the courtyard and alongside the building, helping to better define the dance floor. Manning their stations behind the tables were servers from a local catering company that managed most of the island's events. Dressed in white shirts, black vests, and bow ties, they stood behind the assemblage of finger foods, cocktails, and punches, poised and ready to serve the needs of those who served the needs of the island residents. 

The band was halfway through their first set. A few of the older couples had bravely ventured out to perform their best swing step, cha-cha, and meringue to the curious looks of a much younger generation, who were lost to the discipline of ballroom dancing. Three of the marina dockhands had managed to steal a bottle of Jack Daniels and stealthily slipped into the shadows beyond the courtyard. Every year, there would inevitably be kids engaging in this annual rite of passage to manhood by consuming far too much of the spirit, throwing up, and then trying to manage the dizzying return trip to their parents' care by the end of the night, all without raising too much suspicion. 

Carl Weiss, flanked by two lady members of the club Board of Trustees, looked upon the event with satisfaction. The food was as stellar as always, the band was primed and playing some of his favorite standards, and the presentation of everything was nothing short of perfection. While the two ladies chatted away through Carl, he looked out on the dance area to Katy and Jack Parks; Jack seemed large and clumsy next to his delicate daughter. Carl watched Katy give him directions as to where his arm should be placed and how to move his feet. Occasionally, Katy’s lips would form the word 'Ow', followed by Jack's forming the word 'Sorry’, but in spite of the stubbed toes and clumsy moves, both appeared to be blissfully happy to be in each other's company for this brief moment in time. Carl smiled to himself, happy for every penny that had been spent on the event that made this single moment possible. 

The band finished their piece, and the couples lightly applauded their effort. Carl, weary of making conversation with two people he had little in common with, parted company and crossed the dance floor to tap Jack on his shoulder. "Excuse me, Jack, but may I have this next dance?" 

Jack turned to face Carl, and without skipping a beat, planted a meaty hand on Carl's hip while grabbing hold of his right hand and then stretched out his arm, ready to twirl the old lawyer about on the dance floor. 

"Well, Jack, you are optimistic, aren't you? You could at least buy me a drink, yes?" 

Katy laughed at the picture the two made for the wandering photographer. 

"I'm sorry, Jack," Carl said, stepping back. “I'm more inclined to lead, and you're just not my type. But that pretty little lady over there looks like she would like to dance.” 

Jack smiled, stepped aside, and said “She's all yours, Mr. Weiss.” 

Carl stepped forward and held out his hand to Katy. She took it, and with three steps in a graceful arc, fell into a waltz with Carl. 

"Why, Katy honey, you dance wonderfully. Where did someone your age learn how to do this?" 

"When I was in high school, I wasn't able to keep up in phys. ed. I was sick for a little while. They let me fulfill my PE requirements by taking ballroom dancing two nights a week in the basement of a local church." 

"I don't suppose there's much opportunity for young people to go ballroom dancing nowadays.” 

"No, not much, Mr. Weiss. I did keep going to the church social dances for a while, but I haven't really been out dancing in a couple of years.” 

"Well, you haven't lost anything, my dear.” 

"Thank you. You look very handsome in your tux tonight.” 

"And you don't clean up so bad yourself, Katy. That is a lovely dress.” 

"Oh, thanks. I saw it at the mall a couple of months ago. It took me a long time to save up enough tip money to buy it, but I just had to get it special, just for tonight.” 

"You’re the Queen of the Cotillion, Katy Parks.” 

As the two continued to dance, Jack and Jimmy stood off to the side, watching them in the center of the floor. Jimmy was working on his second beer and fourth cigarette since arriving an hour earlier. 

Jack smiled to himself as he watched his daughter’s graceful moves. "Gosh, she looks pretty, and she really knows what she's doing out there. Look at her go. I wish Anna coulda seen this.” 

"Yes, yes she does,” replied Jimmy, half interested. 

The band finished to another round of polite applause from the dancers. Carl clasped Katy's hand in both of his and gave her a light kiss on her cheek, then left to return to the company of the two ladies from the Board of Trustees. 

Katy stood alone in the dance area and looked to Jimmy as if to say 'Well?' 

"I think she wants to dance with you now, kiddo.” 

"She knows I can't do that stuff.” Jimmy looked back at her, smiling, and shook his head. 

She stomped a foot down, pointed to the ground, and silently mouthed the word 'Now.' 

Jack chuckled and said, “You'd better get over there, Jimmy, before she comes after you. Go on and take your medicine.” 

"That's one girl who's grown just a little too accustomed to getting what she wants.” Jimmy dropped the glowing butt into the remnants of his beer, tossed the bottle into the bartender's trashcan, and headed out to the dance floor. 

"You know I can’t dance, Katy.” 

"Don't sweat it, big brother. There’s nothing to it. You put this hand here, and now grab this hand. I'll lead, okay?" 

"Huh?" 

"That means I’ll guide you where you need to go.” 

The music started, and the unlikely couple got off to a clumsy start. 

"You’re looking at your feet and thinking about it too much. Just focus on the music and let yourself be led. There. Now you're getting it. You know, you’d get a much better class of girls if you learned how to do this. I'll let you in on a little secret... girls love to dance." 

"Hey, I do alright with the ladies.” 

"What, those boozy chicks up at the King's Tavern or the Anchor Inn? Oh, puh-leeze. I’d hardly call them ladies."

"What's wrong with them?” 

"Nothing, except I know you can do much better. You're not a kid anymore, Jimmy.” 

"Since when did you get all grown up?” 

"That happened a long time ago, when I had to fight for my life. You may not know it yet, but you’ve been fighting for yours for some time too.” Jimmy gave her a curious look, to which she said, “You were always meant to do bigger things than just day trips out on the bay.” 

"I'm fine with that. I've got a nice little thing going.” 

"Don't think for one minute that I don't know I'm holding you back.” The sudden revelation caught Jimmy off guard; he stumbled and stepped on his sister’s foot. “Ow! I swear, between you and Dad, I need steel-toed dancing shoes.” 

"You're not holding me back. I'm fine with the way things have turned out for me. I've got you, Dad, and a business with some real potential.” 

"That's not what I'm talking about, Jimmy. I've seen the way you look when other yacht captains are telling their sea stories in the club. I know you want to get out on the ocean, and I know I'm the reason you don't.” 

"You don't understand—" 

"No, you don't understand. I quit been a little girl a long time ago, and as a woman, I'm doing just fine. I hate to say it, but I really don't need my big brother looking over my shoulder all the time.” 

Jimmy just stared at her. Everything she said hit him like a sucker punch right below his ribs. They continued to dance in silence, allowing what she had just said a chance to sink into her brother.

"There now, the music's over. That wasn't so terrible, was it?” Katy broke out into the soft applause and motioned to Jimmy to follow suit. “Think about what I said, okay?” 

Next to Jimmy and Katy, Mary and Vince were finishing up their second dance. 

"Mary, for an old broad, you ain't half bad.” 

"Well, Vince, Danny Kaye you're not, but for an old guy, you ain't half bad yourself.” 

"I've still got a few moves you ain't seen yet.” 

"You can show 'em to me later, but right now I'm famished.” 

"Tell you what, why don't you go and rustle us up a couple of plates of grub, and I'll go get us something to drink. What would you like?" 

"I think I'd like some wine, Vince." 

"Done.” He gave her a wink and dutifully trotted off to the bar table. 

Mary, who was quite delighted with how the evening was turning out, smiled as she watched him walking away and then turned to find the buffet. They rejoined at one of the cozy tables for two, complete with a romantic candle jar. She came with two plates filled with assorted hors d'oeuvres, and he with two upheld glasses of wine. 

"I didn't know what kind you wanted, so I got red and white.” 

"That's fine, Vince. I'll try the white if you don't mind.” 

"For you, baby, nothing but the best. It's a Chardonnay. They said it’s French, so it's gotta be good, right?" 

"Sounds good to me. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I picked out a lot of different stuff.” 

"Aw, hon, it all looks great.” 

The two sat down and began grazing on the spread of finger foods arranged on the two plates, using upheld napkins to catch any drips or crumbs. 

"So, tell me about yourself, Mary. How long have you been with the Lynches?" 

"Mr. Lynch rescued me thirty-eight years ago, next October.” 

"Rescued you? From what?" 

"Mr. L. has a way of taking in strays, and I was one of them. I originally came to this country from Ireland—" 

"I thought I heard a bit of an accent. It's kind of sexy.” 

Ignoring this last comment, she continued, “I was just a girl then, and my husband’s trade skill was stone cutting, all those ornate details you see in buildings." 

"You were married?" 

"Yes, a long time ago.” 

“What happened?”

"Well, if you'd let me finish—" 

"Sorry.” 

"We came over here on his work visa with plans of becoming citizens. There was nothing but misery for us back home in Belfast, and this is where we wanted to build a future—a family. Our plans were cut short when my Dickey fell to his death off some scaffolding.” 

"Oh, I am sorry.” 

"It's okay. Like I said, it was a long time ago. Anyway, with no job skills and no husband, I was looking at having to return home. The Irish have always had a strong sense of community in Baltimore, and word got to Mr. L. through some mutual friends. Cleaning houses was something I could do well, so he hired me as his live-in housekeeper.” 

"He did rescue you then, didn’t he?" 

"Yes, and over time, he helped me get my citizenship. He really is something else, and I've been a part of his family ever since.” 

"Well, he is a great guy. I've never noticed a Mrs. Lynch though. Is there one?" 

"Oh, her. She broke my mister's heart.” 

"Tell me.” 

"She was always a bit off, she was. When she had William, she really went off the deep end. Back in those days, they didn't have a name for it, but nowadays they call it post-partum. For a whole year, she rarely came out of her room and refused to share a bed with Mr. L. He was so busy with work that I guess he never really wanted to notice how bad off she had become. One night—I’ll never forget it—he came home to a taxi parked out in front of the house. She had a couple of valises by the door and was on her way down the stairs with a third. All she said was 'I'm leaving now, Brian, and I don't want you to come after me. I just can't do it anymore’. She just left him standing there in the foyer without another word. Six months later, she sent him the divorce papers, asking for nothing, not even her own child. Can you believe that? She hasn't been heard from since.” 

"That's awful. I thought my breakup was bad, but that's awful." 

"It was. Fortunately, William was far too young to know anything. For that boy's whole life, I'm the only mother he's ever known.” 

"Well, that is quite a story.” 

"Okay, I put my cards on the table, so let's see yours.” 

"Not a whole lot to say really. I inherited my father's business when he died. My wife ripped my heart out when she left me for another man, and one day, I hope my son will carry on in the family business. That's about it.” 

"Well, aren’t we a fit pair?” 

"I guess we are, hon. Hey, would you like to dance some more?" 

"I'd love to.” 

***

Navigating the dense underbrush he had only just surveyed the day before proved to be more difficult and slower going at night than the captain had originally anticipated. At length, it gave way to some clearings as he approached the north side of the Fortification of Portobello, its most vulnerable side. His heart began to race now in anticipation of the pending attack. 

“Steady, men, steady. We’re almost there.” For the great soldiers that they were, it was always a challenge to curb their lust for a good battle. 

***

“Aw, man, you suck. Don’t spit it out! That’s damn good whiskey to waste,” insisted Mel. 

“I’m usually not like this. It just kind of backed up in my throat.” Gene passed the half-empty bottle over to Miles, who took a slug and passed it over to Mel. 

“The key to drinking whiskey,” instructed Mel, “is to let it pass quickly over your tongue and straight down your throat before your tongue has a chance to taste it.” Mel, self-imposed leader of the trio of teenage marina boys, demonstrated his technique to the less experienced Gene. During their summers, they worked in the marina under Jack’s supervision, washing and waxing club members’ boats. 

“There. See? Nothing to it. Now, are you going to break out that joint you’ve been holding onto or what?” 

Gene gave a sideways glance to Miles, who had obviously betrayed this bit of privileged information. He reached into his pocket, withdrew the poorly rolled cannabis cigarette, gave his best effort in biting off the tip, and spit it back out with attitude. As he started to light it, the flame from his lighter briefly illuminated the trio’s faces in the dark, sequestered corner of the tree grove behind the club. 

“Careful, man. You don’t want them to see us back here, do you?” 

“Sorry,” Gene replied, trying to stifle the smoke deep in his lungs, only to break out into a hoarse cough. He passed it along to Mel, who passed him back the bottle. 

“When are we going back to the party?” interrupted Miles. “There’s a couple of busgirls I’d like to get to know better.” 

Gene forced down another slug of whiskey and this time was able to keep it down in spite of the reflexive gag. “I know what you mean. I’d love to know that bartender better.” 

“What, cancer girl?” replied Mel after exhaling the pot smoke with practiced efficiency. “You don’t want any of that, dude,” he said, passing the joint to Miles at the same time Miles was receiving the bottle of Jack Daniels. He looked at both and tried to decide which to do next. 

“Do you know her?” asked Gene. 

“Nah, but my brother went to school with her. He said she had to wear a wig to her prom because all her hair had fallen out—you know, from that radiation shit cancer people have to go through.” 

“Wow, her? Really?” 

“No shit, man. She’s got cancer. Sorry to burst your bubble.” Then he turned his attention to Miles, who was still holding the bottle and the joint. “Are you going to do something over there, or are you just going to stare at them all night?” 

“I’m pacing myself, man.” 

“Yeah, well pick up the pace.” 

Miles quickly took a slug off of the bottle, followed by a hit off of the joint, and started passing each the wrong way. 

“Other way, retard,” protested Mel, who yanked the bottle away. Gene took the joint back and held it for a moment as he looked through the trees at Katy Parks, who was just finishing a dance with one of the waiters from the restaurant. “Still, she is kind of hot. Do you think I have a chance?” 

His partners in crime looked at him and then broke out into laughter. 

***

The going was easier now, as the attack party neared the fort. As he anticipated, this would be their primary area of weakness. Ahead in the darkness he could see that this entrance was guarded by only three men, all of whom appeared to be getting drunk. The captain felt every muscle in his body tense as he slowly approached. He paused, looked behind momentarily, and then slowly withdrew his sword as a signal for his men to do so as well. 

***

The animated conversation of the drunken trio fell into a lull as the effects of the pot began to magnify the effects of the alcohol. Mel, never at a loss for words, began to raise his finger to make some profound statement but lost his train of thought when his brain was suddenly forced to acknowledge the presence of the hard, sharp point pressing against the side of his skull. He slowly turned and looked up at the sight of a man clad only in boots, belt, cape, and hat, staring back down at him along the shaft of long, sharp sword. 

"Move not a muscle, you Spanish dog, or I will give you a taste of cold British steel.” 

"Dude, we are so busted," gulped Gene. 

The stranger looked over a shoulder into the darkness and said, “I'll need three men to stay behind and take care of this lot. The rest of you follow me.” The stranger then removed his sword away from Miles’s head and ran off in the direction of the party, sword raised and cape flying. The three boys watched the strange apparition running away from them and then simultaneously turned in expectation of the horde that was about to descend upon them but saw only empty darkness. 

"Man, what the fuck was that?" asked Mel, touching the place where the sword had just rested. 

The party was now in full swing, and every facet of labor that supported the island community was represented. Maids, housekeepers, butlers, waiters, waitresses, bartenders, dockhands, and deckhands were happily engaged in the revelry of the cotillion, graciously provided by the families they worked for. The band had finally picked up the tempo, and the dance floor was filled with couples engaging in every manner of dance step, trying to keep up with a beat. 

At first, only a handful of people noticed the naked raving man, whose words were lost to the noise of the music. In an effort to better attract everybody’s attention, he pushed aside one of the food servers, jumped up onto her table, and started kicking over the food and serving trays, all the while yelling at the top of his voice, sword raised high above his head, “Avast, you Spanish dogs!” 

Every member of the band stopped playing on the same note, punctuated by a final crash of the drummer’s symbols. Every foot on the dance floor stopped at the same moment, and every eye turned toward the strange man. The sudden and absolute silence was deafening. 

“I take this fort for King and England. Surrender now, and I’ll spare your lives.” 

Everyone remained motionless in the stunned silence. 

“Good,” he replied. “It is never a wise decision to cross swords with the great Captain Morgan.” 

One of the ladies from the Board of Trustees finally found the presence of mind to pull the cell phone out of her sequined purse and quickly dialed island security, urging them to bring as many guns as they had and to hurry. 

The man broke out into a strange smile as he surveyed the crowd and then jumped off the table onto the bricks with a resounding thud from both of his boots. Sword still extended, he slowly walked through the astonished crowd of partygoers, until at last he came upon the Parks family, grouped together by the bar table. 

He looked at Katy with surprise and then sheathed his sword. He removed his hat and bowed down with a broad sweeping gesture. “Milady,” he offered and then returned to his confident captain stance, hat in hands before him. “I am at your service. How long have you and your party been prisoners of these Spanish dogs? I trust you have come to no harm.” 

Katy, unsure as to how she should proceed, glanced back at her father and brother for some clue as to what to say. Jack could only look on in sad sympathy for the troubled Billy Lynch. 

Jimmy smiled and quietly said to his sister, “This is so cool. I’m glad you talked me into coming this year.” 

Katy, returning her attention to Billy, finally replied, “Um, no. We’re, uh, fine, Captain.” 

“Good. Then after my men finish looting this fort, I shall take you all away to the safety of my ship and back to Jamaica.” He returned his hat to his head and turned to address people that nobody could see. “Take everything of worth, men, but spare the lives of those who yielded to the great Captain Morgan.” Next, he proceeded to walk about the crowd in various directions, barking orders to his imaginary invading horde. 

Mary broke away from Vince and dashed over to the serving table that had just recently been swept clear of its serving trays. She carefully negotiated the piles of food on the ground, tore away one of the linens from the table, and hastened as quickly as her heels would carry her to the ranting Billy Lynch. She came up from behind and startled the crazed man, who quickly turned and reached for his sword, then paused as he stared into Mary’s face. “Oh, William,” she sobbed and came forward with the outstretched linen. She wrapped it around him as if she was toweling off a child stepping from a bathtub and held on to him in a tight embrace. 

“Mary?” he said softly. 

She continued to hold him tightly and sobbed heavily onto his shoulder. 

“Mary, what is this? What have I done? Uh, I shouldn’t be here. I want to go home now.” 

“William! My God, William,” she uttered between heaving sobs, still refusing to let go. 

Brian Lynch turned the corner into the courtyard and halted when he saw Mary and William standing at the center of the crowd. Behind him, the blue flashing lights from the security vehicles played off the gleaming hulls of the yachts bobbing at their berths in the marina. He slowly walked toward the pair, paused, and then reached out to join in Mary’s embrace. 

As the security guards came storming into the courtyard, Carl broke away from the ladies of the Board of Trustees and rushed over to intercept them. 

“What’s going on here?” one of them demanded. 

Carl stepped forward. “It’s under control, Officer.” 

“We’ve already called the police. What happened here?” 

“Nothing Officer, really. One of our guests had too much to drink, that’s all. We’re going to take him home now.” 

“The police are on their way, Mr. Weiss.” 

“Harry, please handle it. This is an island matter now. It’s under control.” 

Brian, still locked with Mary’s embrace around his son, looked over his shoulder with a face that pleaded for their understanding. 

“Alright. Get him out of here now. I’ll take care of the police,” replied the reluctant security guard. 

Brian quietly said, “Thank you,” and then, turning to his son, said, “Come now, William. It’s time to go home.” 

Mary and Brian led their boy past all the disapproving glares, along the course that Brian had recently taken to join the party. Ahead was his young driver, looking for some kind of instruction from Brian. 

“Go get the car and bring it around now!” he shouted. 

The young driver quickly about faced and then ran off to retrieve the Lincoln as instructed. 

Katy looked on with her father’s shared, sad sympathy, as the now defeated Captain Morgan was led off into the still night. 

Thank you for reading this excerpt from Requiem of the Nightingale. As I said in the Home Page, my hope is to publish and sell this manuscript. At this point in my career, I have come expect the worst but hope for the best. If the inevitable conclusion to this effort is nil, then I will post the remaining manuscript in its entirety. The soft-back version is available through the link in the table of contents, with links to electronic copies soon to come. I can only hope that this was enough to persuade you to buy a copy. 

Regardless of the outcome in your decision, I wish to thank you for the time you spent on this blog. I encourage you to share your comments, so that I may better develop my craft.

Rand

Sunrise III

III

Instead of entering the Hopkins club through the main entrance, Brian preferred using the side door off of the rear parking lot. It afforded him the option of slipping in and out of the facility, allowing him minimal contact with club members who clustered in the Grand Hall entrance. He instructed the driver to remain in the parking lot, for he only wanted to stay about an hour or so. 

The idea of using a driver was still new to him. With all the appointments he had to keep regarding his current deals, mergers, and acquisitions, he found that more and more of his work was being conducted out of the back seat of a car while someone from the office took the wheel. As of late, they had been a misfit collection of young interns, assistants, or clerks trying to curry favor with the owner of the firm. Now that he had grown accustomed to the idea of being chauffeured, what he wanted was somebody more reliable than the kids who had been his most recent attendants; someone who didn't smoke in the car while he was away and didn’t listen to deplorable music at a volume OSHA would shake a finger at. 

As anticipated, the side entrance was void of any guests. He climbed the rear staircase, slipped unnoticed into the bar area, and signed for a double Glen Livet eighteen-year-old, on the rocks. Scotch in hand, he walked briskly to the library to join the other Johns Hopkins Alumni for an end-of-week sojourn. The library was the last great bastion for men left in the club where they could occasionally indulge themselves in vices otherwise not tolerated. With its tall ceilings, massive windows, and oak-paneled walls, it was a formidable-looking room. But to the male alumni of Johns Hopkins University, it was a haven where, for at least a few hours each week, they were no longer CEOs, presidents, surgeons, programmers, writers, or politicians. In this room, there was no demand of their time, no responsibility to anyone, save each other.

 Standing in the doorway, he looked about at all of the people in the room while taking a sip from his drink. His eyes finally fell on Dean, who was sitting in one of two overstuffed leather chairs, motioning for Brian to come and join him. 

Dean rose as Brian approached and then shook his hand. "Well, Brian, it's good to see you again. I feel the only way we get to talk anymore is through email and voicemail." 

"The cost of living in a modern world, I suppose. I guess that's why the founding fathers of this club, in their great wisdom and foresight, envisioned a place where men of commerce may still find an inviting place to engage in one another's excellent company outside the workplace." 

"Really? And I thought it was supposed to be a place we could come to get away from our wives. Tell me, what did you bring tonight?" 

Brian reached into his jacket pocket and with a flourish produced a leather pocket cigar case. Upon removing the top, he withdrew one of three cigars and then ran it slowly beneath his nose. "I'm a sucker for Dunhills and Scotch," he said as he neatly removed the tip of his cigar with a cutter that Dean handed over to him. Reaching into his pocket again, he produced his newest cigar toy in answer to Dean's cutter. With the push of a button, a small blue flame erupted from the golden lighter top, with all the heat and intensity of a jet afterburner. He rolled the cigar around in the flame, watching the soft brown tobacco char and then glow with brightly lit embers. He repeatedly drew on the cigar, surrounding himself in a soft gray cloud of smoke that gently spiraled upward. 

"And tell me, Dean, is that a Davidoff in your ashtray over there?" 

"But of course! I’ll smoke no other." 

The two men sat back into their respective chairs and took a moment to enjoy the combination of good Scotch and great tobacco. 

Emerging from his reverie, Brian turned to Dean. "What is the status with our new friend?" 

"He's on board and has already announced his retirement." 

"Excellent… and can he deliver?" 

"He has already brought over at least half of their R&D. He should have the remainder delivered by the end of next week.” 

"And what of the hard assets?" 

"Still working on it. We might need a little more time for those." 

"That's fine. Just remember, stealth and guile. There should be no evidence left of what we've done." 

"Understood, Brian." 

"Is he happy with the arrangement?" 

"Ecstatic, I'd say. He sees this as a chance to clear his conscience and make some money.” 

"A win-win for everybody, I'd say.” 

"Yes, a win-win…” Dean was apparent in letting his thoughts and attention trail off. 

"Is there something else you wanted to discuss?" 

"Well, frankly, yes. Brian, I'd like to know when they're going to bring me in.” 

"But you are in, dear boy. None of this could have been achieved without you.” 

"Still, sometimes I can't help but feel like I'm nothing but an errand boy. I guess I just need some kind of assurance for what lies ahead of me.” 

Brian drew slowly on his Dunhill as he chose his words carefully. “Dean, what you reap will be in proportion to what you have sown.” 

"I think I've given quite a bit of myself.” 

"Oh, you have, you have. But if its fortune and power you seek, you've come knocking at the wrong door. Profit is the least of our ambitions, my dear boy. You must understand that as a whole, our group is simply a collection of like-minded individuals who lend their talents and resources to achieve a common goal that is ultimately in somebody else’s best interest.” 

"Well if it's not about money, then what is it about?” 

"A true understanding of the answer to that question requires a level of commitment that you may not be ready for.” 

"You talk of commitment as if I haven't done enough already. I'm the one who's sticking his neck out every time I walk into that company. I'm the one assuming all the risk. Under the circumstances, I'd say I've been quite committed.” 

"Relax, Dean. You're starting to look upset. I assure you that the group will protect you and take good care of you.” 

"I want more than their protection. I want to be in the group.” 

“Are you a religious man, Dean?”

“What?” Dean replied, clearly showing his irritation with the question.

“Religion. Have you ever read the Bible, Dean?”

Dean sat back in his chair and let out a sigh. “A little Sunday school when I was a kid, and that’s about it, to be honest.”

"Jesus had arrived at a point in his ministry where he was starting to reach a lot people with his ideas. What he wanted was for people to go out after him and continue to carry his message throughout the world. There was no shortage of people who wanted to do this, but what he really needed for this most important task were not people who just ‘wanted in’, but people who were absolutely committed to his ideals. He said, ‘And everyone that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my name’s sake shall receive an hundred fold and shall inherit everlasting life’. Now that is asking for real commitment to an ideal, and that is the level of commitment required for this group. We ask for more than what most men are willing to give of themselves. When all of this business has passed, I can assure you that you will you will be well taken care of, provided with both ample money and opportunity. But if you so desire and are willing to make the kind of sacrifice we require, there will be a place for you in our organization.” 

"Yes, thank you, Brian… and I’m sorry for coming off so pushy. It's just that it's getting harder to cover my tracks with the corporation. When do you think they can pull me out?" 

"Soon, Dean, soon. A few more pieces must be put into place before we can begin.” Brian looked at Dean across his Scotch tumbler. He could tell Dean wanted to continue with a conversation that he now considered closed. 

"Not to change the subject, but do you see that gentleman over by the fireplace?" asked Brian.

"The one smoking the Cohiba?" 

"Yes. I’m going to introduce you to him right now. He’s a club officer and a most interesting fellow.” 

Brian waved his arm and attracted the man's attention, then beckoned for him to join them. Brian and Dean rose to their feet as he approached them. 

"I am so glad to see you again, Ian,” said Brian as he reached out to take the man’s hand. 

"Lynch, you're looking well.” 

"Doing well, thank you. Ian, this is my good friend Dean Brennan, class of eighty-two." 

"Hello, Dean. Ian, Ian Hamilton class of seventy-one. How do you do? Are you a guest or a member?" 

"I did my undergrad and grad work here, but I am not a member.” 

"Not a member yet,” corrected Brian, “but we’ll see if we can’t change his mind, Ian." 

"And what are you into, Dean?" 

"Pharmaceuticals. I'm VP in charge of sales at Medicon Inc. And yourself?" 

"Ian is one of our resident spooks," Brian interrupted. “Intelligence,” he finished in a whisper. 

"Must you be so dramatic, Lynch? The highest concentration of government clearances in this country is between Baltimore and Virginia. It is not a rare occurrence to find somebody around here working with or for the government.” 

"He's retired NSA, Dean.” 

"Which is one of the largest employers in the tri-state area. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if there were a few of us here tonight. No, Dean, my work has never been all that interesting. Nowadays, I am nothing more than a glorified personnel manager. I work for a company called Global Tech. Are you familiar with them?" 

"Why, no,” replied Dean. 

"We're something of a niche business—a staffing agency for inaccessible government facilities. We provide a range of employees, from degreed professionals, right on down to custodial help, all of whom require at least some level of clearance.” 

"How many people do you employ?" 

"About 10,000.” 

"Now that's a pretty big niche.” 

"It's a big government, Dean." 

"Tell me, Ian," interrupted Brian, “do I see 'Habana' written on your cigar band?" 

"Yes... well… it's good to have connections, now isn’t it?” 

"Anything you care to share with us?" 

"No.” 

"Or you will have to kill us," finished Dean. 

"Or I'll lose my Cuban cigar connection.” 

The three men chuckled and continued talking about mayoral elections, bills to be passed, how the Orioles would fare in the upcoming season, and the rising cost of a bushel of crabs. At length, Brian excused himself so he might make it back to the cotillion on time. He hastened his departure down the back stairs, out the side door, and into the parking lot. 

From across the parking lot, he detected the faint but distinct odor of marijuana. As Brian approached his car, the driver suddenly appeared from the evening twilight and opened the rear door for him. He couldn't prove it was the boy, who was the son of an important client, but his heavy eyelids and red watery eyes betrayed his recent activities.

"Did you have a good time, Mr. Lynch?" he asked, feigning interest while holding the door open. 

"Yes. Now get in and drive." Brian slid into the back seat and slammed the door. Through the closed door, he could hear the driver mumbling as he circled around the rear of the car to the driver's door. 

The vehicle was a standard-sized Lincoln Town Car. It was enough that he had a driver to carry him around, but a limo would have been more than he could bear. The driver slid in behind the wheel and stared forward for a moment, then remembered to turn around and ask for a destination.

“Gibson Island, Mathew. To the yacht club. Do you know where you’re going?”

Unwilling to say anything that might jeopardize his employer’s faith in his abilities, he responded with a, “Sure, sure, Mr. Lynch. I’ve got it covered.” He turned the ignition and inadvertently introduced Brian to the CD he had been listening to earlier at its last earsplitting decibel. “Sorry, Mr. Lynch.” He fumbled with the keys, turning the engine over. The starter complained bitterly as he continued to crank an already running engine. “Oooh, sorry, Mr. Lynch.”

While on his way to the interstate, Matthew had rolled through a stop sign, stopped twice at green lights, and succeeded in getting lost while negotiating the Hopkins campus.

“Sorry, Mr. Lynch. I’m not familiar with this campus, I’m a Wharton man.”

“You’re a hazard to us both, Matthew. Pull over up here.”

“Mr. Lynch?”

“PULL OVER NOW!”

Matthew pulled the vehicle over, up onto the curb. 

Brian lunged out the back door, slamming it behind him in a huff, and stormed around the trunk to the driver’s door. “Move over!”

“Sorry, Mr. Lynch.”

“There is nothing quite so dangerous in life as someone who doesn’t know that he doesn’t know.”

“Sir?”

“You’re a Wharton man, figure it out!”

Brian dropped the gear shift down into drive, rolled the front end of the car off of the curb back onto the street, and then sped off in the appropriate direction for the interstate. If the traffic were light enough, he could yet make good his commitment to Mary.

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Sunrise II

II

“How ya doing there, Mr. Weiss?” asked Katy from behind the bar

“Fine, Katy, my dear, but my drink isn’t doing so well.” As he finished his reply, Katy put a new Bloody Mary in front of him and withdrew his empty glass. “You’re a magician! I blinked, and poof, there’s a new one. Pretty and talented you are.”

“Nothing but the best for my special fella. How’d you do against Mr. Gardner yesterday?”

“He cheats.”

“How much did you lose?” she asked with a smile.

“Well, my estate is intact, but my dignity took some bruising. I’ve never seen anyone roll so many doubles in my life. I think his dice are loaded.”

“Sounds like sour grapes to me. What makes you think that sweet old man cheats?”

“Because he was a lawyer, and it takes a shark to know a shark. Besides, if you ever saw the way he worked before he retired, you might think twice about calling him a ‘sweet old man’.”

“Oh? Now you have my curiosity.”

“Well, you’ve lived a rather insulated life out in Pasadena, but in the city, there are two things that make the wheels turn—the city government and a society of gentlemen from the old country.”

“What, you mean like the Mob?”

“Oh, please don’t say that out loud, or you’ll bring the evil eye down upon us all… but yes. He defended that organization for the better part of his legal career.”

“Wow. Our Mr. Gardner? The one who brings his grandkids in here? No way!”

“Believe what you will, dear, but it’s all a matter of public record.”

“Do you think he’s still connected?”

“Oh, heavens no. The family he used to represent evolved into something of a legitimate business, and the people who filled their place deteriorated into common thugs.”

“Did you ever have to go up against him, Mr. Weiss?”

“No. Unfortunately, my career was never quite so exciting. I was on retainer to large corporations, moving piles of papers from one side of my desk to the other side, and then into file cabinets. He and I played in very different schoolyards.”

“Huh. You think you know someone...”

“Oh, he’s not a bad man. He’s done a lot of good in his lifetime that no will ever know about. The man has a generous heart. His only real flaw is that he cheats at backgammon.”

Katy smiled and put a fresh piece of celery into his glass to replace the one he had just finished.

“Tell me, my dear, are you going to our little soiree tonight?”

“You know, you’d think coming down here for the cotillion would be like a busman’s holiday, but yes, I’ll be here, and I’m kinda looking forward to it.”

“Do you think you could spare a dance for a tired old fool who’s sweet on you?”

“You’re going to be there?” Katy asked in surprise.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. This is an event I have championed for thirty-five years.”

“I didn’t see you there last year,” she said, and as the words left her mouth, she immediately regretted them, suddenly recalling the events in Mr. Weiss’s life the year before.

“No, Katy dear, I wasn’t there. My wife had taken ill at that time.”

“Of course. I’m… I’m sorry I brought it up, Mr. Weiss.”

“Never be sorry, my dear. We had fifty-two wonderful years together. I miss her terribly sometimes, but I have come to rely on good friends like you to help me get through the rough times. But enough of such talk. You never answered my question.”

“Well, I promised my dad the first dance, but I’m all yours for number two.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be counting the minutes.” 

Carl gave her a big smile and winked as he raised a toast to her with his glass. She responded by raising the glass of Coke she had been sipping on and joined him for the drink. 

In the restaurant behind Carl, Jimmy had walked in through the main entrance and crossed the empty dining room on his way to the bar.

“Hey, Jimmy, how’d it go this morning?”

“Not bad, sis. We’re actually starting to come out ahead. Hey, Mr. Weiss. How’re you doin’ today?”

“Fine, Jimmy, fine. Your sister promised to dance with me tonight. I got beat out by your dad for the first one, but I think I can live with that.”

“Man, I thought I was getting the second dance.”

“Sorry, Jimmy. That one is saved for my special fella.”

“Hear that kid? I’m her ‘special fella’. I think I might yet stand a chance. Talk of marriage is still premature, but I think she is starting to soften to the idea.”

“Be careful of what you wish for, Mr. Weiss, or you might just get it. She has a lot of bad habits, and you should see what she’s like in the morning.” 

Katy reached across the bar and gave Jimmy a playful shove.

“I could forgive her for anything. Hey, Jimmy, you and your dad are still crabbing, right?”

“Yeah. We just went out this morning.”

“Well, I was hoping to put together a crab feast for some friends next week. Is there any chance of buying a bushel next Saturday? I’ll pay you whatever they’re charging people down at the seafood market.”

“Sure, Mr. Weiss. I don’t think that should be a problem, and I can give you a better price that what those thieves are asking.”

“Bless you, son. A man is nothing without friends.”

“Hell, the way you keep working my sister, you’ll probably end up part of the family.”

“That sounds like an endorsement to me, Katy. You ready to run away and get hitched?”

Katy smiled indulgently at Carl. “Sure, but you’ll have to get rid of the boat first.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’ll never win that contest. I guess I’ll just have to learn how to live with the consequences.”

“Your loss,” she replied as she struck a pose and batted her eyelashes. “Get you another one, Mr. Weiss?”

“When have you ever known me to have three Bloody Marys? My doctor says I shouldn’t even have the two I come down here for each day.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Weiss. I’ll never tell.”

“Thank you, dear. You’re far too good to me. But, no, thank you. I think I’ll just be shuffling off. I think I might challenge Mr. Gardner to another game.”

Carl Weiss dismounted his bar stool with a gentle groan and headed toward the marina side entrance. He paused at the door and then turned back to Katy. “Farewell, my dear. Until tonight?”

“See ya, Mr. Weiss.” She waved and smiled to him as he turned and headed outside.

“You ever get of tired him, sis?”

“Him? Never! It’s like having a personal cheerleader in my life every day. No, I like having him around. He gets kind of lonely sometimes and needs a cheerleader in his life too. I can’t believe I brought up his wife’s death today though. I feel terrible about it.”

“That was only last year.”

“Yeah. He brushed it off like it was nothing, but I could tell it hurt. God, how could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t sweat it. Like he said, he could forgive you for anything. Oh, hey, I saw something weird today.”

“Yeah? What?”

“When me and Dad were running the string of pots over off the south side of the island, we saw Billy Lynch and a couple of other fellas standing on the bluff.”

“What’s so weird about that?”

“Billy wasn’t wearin’ nothun but some kind of big cape.”

“What, like a king?”

“No, more like a musketeer. Oh, and he had a sword.”

“A sword? I haven’t seen that Billy Lynch down here in a month of Sundays. I had such a crush on him when I was a kid. I don’t think he ever knew I was even alive.”

“Oh puh-leeze. He’s gotta be at least ten years older n’ you. Couldn’t you lust after someone your own age?”

“I couldn’t help it. He looked great in his tennis shorts out on that boat of his. What can I say? I’m a leg girl, I guess.”

“Okay, this conversation is going in a direction I don’t want to follow. Why didn’t you just leave it at ‘he had great personality’? I really couldn’t care less about the guy’s legs, though I saw plenty of them today.”

“Well, then I guess I’d better not mention that he also had a great ass.”

“Okay, sis, I’m covering my ears now. LA, LA, LA, LA, I can’t hear you.” Katy laughed, and gave her brother another shove. She reached into the cooler and brought out a Budweiser long neck, opened it, and put it on the bar in front of him. 

Jimmy reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a soft pack of cigarettes. He shook one loose of the rest and pulled it out the rest of the way with his lips like an old smoking pro. After lighting it, he reached down the bar for the nearest ashtray. Katy intercepted him and grabbed the ashtray first. She pulled it off of the bar and held it away from him.

“You know, you’d think being the brother of someone who has cancer, you’d have just a little more respect for the disease.” She stared him down and then placed the ashtray next to his beer. “I’m not kidding either. Those things will kill you, and then who’ll take care of Dad?”

Whenever she suggested a future without her, it always had an immediate sobering effect on Jimmy. He took a final drag and then stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“You won’t ever give up will ya, sis?”

“Not until you do.” She punctuated the statement with a single hand on her hip and an ‘I dare you to step across this line’ glare. “So, Billy wasn’t wearing anything at all?”

“Just a cape.”

“That is weird. Wonder what that’s all about?”

“I dunno. Must be a rich thing.” Jimmy took a long draw on his bottle, forced the beer down, and then prepared his body to let out a grand belch.

“Don’t you dare, not in my bar. You can save that for the King’s Tavern.”

“They let me burp.”

“Well, then you go there to burp, but not here. C’mon, show a little class.”

“I think these snooty people around here are starting to rub off on ya.”

“Maybe they are, but you could stand a little classing up, especially if you’re going to chase after them as customers. As a rule, poor people don’t sail.”

“So I guess I can’t fart either?”

Katy threw the rag she had been using to wipe down the bar at Jimmy and giggled when it landed around his face.

“Classy, sis. Real classy.” He balled it up and tossed it back to her. “What time you headin’ to the dance?”

“You mean the cotillion?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Are we all going together?”

“I guess.”

“You were planning to cut out early, huh?” Katy turned her attention back to the bar and continued wiping it down.

“What’s the big deal? You know I don’t do those kinds of things. I’ll hang around for a little while, but then I have some other plans.”

“I know I’m being selfish. It’s just that you and Dad have the boat thing, and Dad and I have the doctor thing, but we don’t ever really do a lot of stuff together—you know, the three of us.”

“We live together. Ain’t that enough?”

“You know what I mean, Jimmy.”

Jimmy did know what she meant. It seemed like all of their lives the three of them worked very hard and saw very little of each other. Jimmy was too old to have been in school when his sister was coming up—not that it would have mattered anyway, for they traveled in different social circles. Growing up, Jimmy had a lot of local friends and continued to keep up with most of them, at least those that were still single. They’d buy each other drinks and recount glory days down at the King’s Tavern, or go out to catch an Orioles game in the city. Katy was pretty and easy to get along with as kid, but as the treatment for her cancer became more aggressive, less people were inclined to invest in a friendship with that much baggage. The older she grew, the more dependent she had become on her family.

“I’ll tell you what, Katy… I’ll stay until you and Dad split, and then I might head out for a bit. How’s that?”

“Thanks, Jimmy,” she said with a satisfied smile. “It really means a lot to me.” She started pulling glasses out of the soapy water and began rinsing them in the empty adjoining sink. “You heading back out on the bay today?”

“Nah. I’m going down to the shop. I’ve got a couple small jobs to do, awnings and sail covers.”

“Anymore big jobs lined up?”

“Nah. Mostly small stuff I pick up around here. It’s a word-of-mouth business, and with this crowd, I don’t get a whole lot of exposure.” 

“What can you do to fix that?”

“Lots of stuff, I guess. Like, I want to get my sails into some boat shows, or maybe a picture of a yacht carrying a big custom spinnaker sail on the cover of a magazine. But mostly, I think it’s a matter of location. Annapolis has some major marinas, and if I could get a shop in one of them, that would really be the break I need.”

“So you want to be rich?”

“I’ll never get rich making sails, but I’d be happy. That and a decent boat would about do it for me.”

“You’ll get there. I know you will. I’ve got a sense for these sorts of things.” The silence hung between them for a moment before Katy changed the subject. “You going over to check up on Dad?”

“Uh, yeah, before I head out.”

“Could you tell him they’re letting us off an hour early tonight, on account of the cotillion.”

“Sure, but I think he already knows.” Jimmy finished up the last of his beer and then stood up to leave.

“Great. Then I’ll see you back at the house. You know you gotta get dressed up for this, right?”

“Yeah I do, and so does Dad. He took my funeral/wedding suit to the dry cleaner earlier in the week.”

“I guess he hoped you’d change your mind this year.”

“It’s beginning to feel more like a conspiracy.” Jimmy gave his sister a warm smile and then walked over to the marina side entrance.

“And don’t smoke anymore today!” his sister yelled after him.

Jimmy waved his hand in the air without looking back as he exited the bar.

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