as he continued to study the photograph of Shah. She wasn’t smiling; she had a very thoughtful look on her face. Pride radiated from her in the way she stood, shoulders squared, with a glint of defiance in her wide, intelligent eyes. But there was something else, something that Jake sensed and felt but couldn’t put his finger on. What was it? Was that a haunted look he saw in her eyes?
“I wonder how old she was when this photo was taken.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.” Jake laid the photo back on Morgan’s desk. “Travers is hiding something from us,” he said.
“I think so, too.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” Morgan offered Jake some potato chips. Jake took a handful and munched methodically, frowning as he considered the question.
“Travers seems more angry than anything else,” Morgan offered.
“Not exactly what I’d call the concerned-parent type,” Jake agreed dryly.
“He’s posturing, that’s for sure,” Morgan said. “It’s obvious he’s a real controller and manipulator.”
Jake chuckled. “Yeah, and it sounds like his daughter rebelled very early on and leads her life the way she sees fit.”
“Travers is also prejudiced against Indians.”
“Noticed that, did you?” Jake rolled his eyes.
“I know you’re a walking encyclopedia of knowledge….” Morgan said.
“I prefer to think of myself as a philosopher,” Jake corrected, “despite being an ex-marine.”
“And a mercenary,” Morgan added. “So how much do you know about Indians?”
“Native Americans is the preferred term,” Jake noted. “A little. Enough to realize that Shah is like some of the younger generation of Native Americans who are trying to reclaim their heritage. Her fierce pride isn’t unusual.”
“Ever been on a reservation?”
“Once, a long time ago. I had a marine friend who was Navajo, and I went home with him for Christmas one year. His folks lived near Gallup, New Mexico, and they had a hogan made out of wood and mud. I stayed with them for nearly two weeks, and learned a hell of a lot.”
“You had a good experience?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like Travers didn’t.”
“Travers,” Jake intoned, “would hate anything or anyone who disagreed with him or got in his way.”
With a grin, Morgan finished off his sandwich. “Once Travers fills out the papers, I’m going to have a security check run on him.”
“Good idea. He looks a little too slick to me—one of those greedy eighties business types.”
“Sounds like his daughter is just the opposite of him—clear ethics, strong morals, and decided values.”
“I agree.”
“So, if all of our info comes back in order on Travers, do you want to be a bodyguard for a while?”
Jake shrugged. He tried to appear nonchalant, but his protective feelings had been aroused. He looked down at the photo. “Yeah, I’ll go to Brazil and see what’s going down.”
“She’s a very pretty young woman.”
“The earthy type,” Jake agreed.
Jake sat there for a long time, simply feeling his way through the photo of Shah. There was an ageless quality to her, as if all the generations of the Sioux people were mirrored in her classic Indian features. She didn’t have a common kind of model’s prettiness, but Jake never went for that cookie-cutter type, anyway. He liked women who had their own special and unique features. Character, as far as he was concerned, should be reflected on a person’s face, and Shah’s face intrigued him.
Unconsciously he rubbed his chest where his heart lay.
“Memories?” Morgan asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence of the office.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Jake loved Morgan like a brother. They had both served as marines, and that bound them in an invisible way. Once a marine, always a marine—that was the saying. Even though they hadn’t served together, they’d come from the same proud service. Marines stuck together, and supported each other and their families. Maybe that was why Jake liked working for Morgan so much—he understood Jake’s tragic loss, and, like any marine brother, supported him as much as possible.
He gave Morgan a quick glance. “Bess was always spunky, too,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Shah kinda reminds me of my wife in some ways.”
“You always want me to give you assignments that deal with drugs,” Morgan said. “This one won’t involve drug trafficking.”
“It’s okay.” Jake tried to shake off the old grief that still clung to his heart. “Maybe I need a change of pace. Something different.”
“I feel this assignment may be more than it appears to be on the surface,” Morgan warned him.
“What else do I have to do with my life?” Jake said, pretending sudden joviality. “Go home to an empty log house? Sit and watch a football game and drink a beer? No plants in the house. No animals…” No family. No wife. Not anymore. The grief grew within him, and he got up, rubbing his chest again. He saw Morgan’s face, which was no longer expressionless. Morgan knew about personal loss as few men ever would. Jake stood there, unable to put into words the feelings unraveling within him.
“Well,” Morgan said softly, “maybe it would do you good to have this kind of assignment, then.” He attempted a smile.
“Where you’ll be going, there’ll be plenty of plants and animals.”
Jake nodded and moved to the windows. The November sky was cloudy, and it looked like either rain or the first snowfall of the year for the capital. “Brazil is having their springtime,” he said, as much to himself as to Morgan. “It’ll be the dry season down there, and the jungle will be survivable.”
“Just make sure you survive this mission,” Morgan growled.
Jake rubbed his jaw. “I always survive. You know that.”
Morgan nodded, but said nothing.
Jake turned toward him. “You’ve got a funny look on your face, boss.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.”
With a slight smile, Morgan said, “Well, maybe I’m hoping that Shah and her situation can lighten the load you’ve been carrying by yourself for so long, that’s all.”
Jake halted at the desk. “Well, time
