“Okay, I’ll just go to the A-team then. Ronny Baca and Hondo Wells to see Ms. Artell.”
“Please come in.” The gate clicked and opened, and we drove to the huge parking area at the side of the mansion.
An athletic-looking man about our age, with short hair and an expensive three-piece suit walked straight to me and put out his hand. “Baca, right?” He cocked his head sideways to look behind me at Shamu and stifled a grin.
I shook his hand, and then he shook Hondo’s and called him by name. I said, “You know us?”
“Oh yeah.”
Hondo said, “And you are…?”
“Wilson Berra. We met a few years back.”
I still couldn’t connect it, althoug
h he looked vaguely familiar.
Wilson said, “The Hindu Kush, above Shok Valley. I was a newbie, only two days with the squad. You and Hondo pulled me out of that stone hut while the bullets and rockets tore into us.”
Hondo nodded, “You look different with no dirt and rocks on you.”
“I should hope.” He looked at me; “I still don’t know how you carried both of us down that mountain, wounded like we were.” He turned to Hondo, “I saw you get hit when you reached down for me. I thought you were dead for sure. I only remember things off and on after that.”
I changed the subject, “So you work for Sylvia Artell?”
“Supervisor of security. Come on, I’ll escort you to her office.” Another, older man approached us and Wilson said, “This is Ed Donovan. He’s on security here, too.” We shook hands and Wilson said to him, “These guys are cleared for anything on the grounds.”
Donovan said, “Roger that. Nice to meet you.”
As he left, Wilson said, “Desert Storm, Army First Battalion.”
I said, “A Ranger.”
“Uh-huh, Bronze Star. I’ve known him a couple years.”
We walked side by side toward the mansion and Wilson said, “Thank you, guys. I never had a chance to say it while we were…”
Hondo said, “Do you call her Sylvia, or Ms. Artell?”
I said, “Or Your Worship?”
“Ha ha. She likes to be called Sylvia.” He led us into a home that stated opulence in every square foot. Wilson said, “Her office is in the back.”
Hondo said, “Are you with her when she leaves the grounds?”
“Sometimes, but she likes to go without fanfare, too. Her business manager is usually around, or her fiancé, or both. I’m with her about half the time.”
“What’s the business manager’s name?”
“Franco Torelli.”
“What’s he like?”
“He seems to be good at what he does.”
I said, “You know what we mean. What’s he like?”
Wilson slowed his pace, “There’s something off about him. I can’t describe it, but you’ll catch the vibe pretty quick, if he’s in her office.”