Bloody Oath

By J West Hardin

An ancient Blood Oath binds the loyalties of the secretive Lords Seventeen from birth until death. The bloody pact asserts itself when a sociopathic pirate robs the luxury cruise liner, Sun God Princess, owned by the cabal’s interests. The pact is steeped in the ancestral blood of four centuries when Dutch traders were forced to fight together by land and sea for their survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J West Hardin
• Release date: May 8, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452394411

J West Hardin

ABOUT THE AUTHORMy pen name was taken from a misunderstood man. I relate to this characterization. 13 Angels is my sixth work of fiction. My previous work includes novels of various genres and co-writer/ co-producer of a successful group of non-fiction technical applications manuals based on a curriculum developed at the University of British Columbia for The Smiley Series Publications. Separately published, “University Entrance Secrets-Why being smart is not enough”.Additional publishing credits I offer include writing a regular column for Canadian online travel magazine, The Travel Itch. I contribute to Hack Writers, an acclaimed UK online travel writing/publishing forum. I am an active travel Blogger and video producer.Bangkok Living and Travel has attracted over 250,000 ++ channel views since inception. J. West Hardin Road Trip is a well-received work in progress detailing my travel and photographic experiences. I greatly appreciate your liking my work on Facebook, Amazon, Kindle and Good Reads. Drop me line on my blog http://jwesthardin.wordpress.com-J West-Find out more about this author check out You Tube ChannelBangkok Living and Travel: http://www.youtube.com/user/patriciaolson9

Book preview

Chapter 1

"All this I solemnly and sincerely promise and swear binding myself under no less penalty than having my throat slit from ear to ear

My tongue torn out and to be buried in the sands of the sea at low water mark where the tide ebbs and floods twice in twenty four hours

Should I in the least knowingly and willingly violate or transgress

This my eternal obligation"

* * * * *

Baja California, Mexico

A fantastic mega-ship lay anchored in the serene turquoise water of Bahia de Cabo San Lucas. The Sun God Princess shimmered in the morning sun like a platinum spacecraft had been painted onto a rustic backdrop of dusty red hills and cactus strewn desert. The visual disparity of the architecturally resplendent billion dollar cruise ship, against the crush of earthen shacks and thatched Jalapa’s crouching along a curving rim of golden sand, made the vision surreal. A red white and blue flag with squares beset by diagonally opposing stars identifying it’s registry as Panamanian hung limp off the stern of the ship.

She was a magnificent sight, rising out of the sea like a mountainous iceberg dominating the cloudless azure sky. Men had referred to their ships as she from the earliest days of seafaring. A ship was a material synonym for a delicate and beautiful creature whose moods were unfathomable and stubborn nature implacable. More importantly, she will only yield her trust and wild spirit to the hand of a strong man. The Princesses’ keel lay one thousand and four feet in length, one hundred twenty two feet across the beam. Her fourteen decks were displaced over one hundred and thirty thousand gross tons. A full compliment could entertain three thousand six hundred and fifty two holiday makers with a crew of thirteen hundred sixty nine men and women to serve them.

The tourist mecca of Cabo San Lucas and its famous arched outcropping eyelet punctuated the end of the Baja Peninsula and hung off the south western corner of the continental United States like a flaccid appendage. What had once been a desolate refuge for fisherman and smugglers was being transformed into a hotspot for the rich nortenos’. At first they came south as snowbirds to watch giant grey whales bring new calves to frolic and grow fat in the warm food rich waters upwelling within the Sea of Cortez. More came when it was discovered that giant Black Marlin weighing in excess of a thousand pounds were being caught on trolling rods in the shallow Western Pacific and that the aggressive Blue Fin Tuna had returned in abundance after a decade of El Nino had begun to subside. The temporary castaways reveled in the generous Mexican sun when frigid winter brought months of snow in the northern U.S. states and Canada.

The serendipitous ‘Bahia’ was a popular stop with West Coast yachtsmen headed south to transit the Panama Canal into the blue Caribbean. Others were sailing towards the Marquesas Islands of Polynesia on the curling seasonal current sweeping the Western Pacific. In ‘high season’ the small town became engorged with gringos looking for a fast suntan and enough cheap tequila to melt away the white visions of northern winter. When cruise ship passengers were in, there were thousands of people who didn’t know anyone enjoying the anonymity that afforded. It was a good place to lose yourself in the crowd; people felt like they could let their hair down, and did.

The Bahia de Cabo San Lucas was full of sea craft scattered at anchorage around the Princess’ gigantic presence. It was as if the cruise ship was a central sun with the many various sized craft acting as the planets and celestial debris of a liquid solar system encircling her. Yachts, sailboats and small commercial ships swung lazily around on the changing tide, moored on numbered orange buoys, at the floating anchorages, fixed to concrete blocks on the green sea bed and along the shoreline where sand colored hillsides dropped precipitously into deep blue water.

Whale watching tour craft and fishing charter boats filled the busy commercial waterway, along with a plethora of speeding recreational Zodiacs and noisy Sea-Doos. The noise, reckless indecision and diversity created an atmosphere of pandemonium. No one noticed the single black hulled Zodiac rounding the arched point on the south western tip of land where the Sea of Cortez met the Bahia. This craft was larger than a recreational Zodiac, the nondescript snub nosed hull had been covered in a sheet of weather-dark canvas. From a distance its wedged shape and low definition could have been mistaken for a shadow cast between two waves. A single man stood in the open cock pit under an arched flying wing deck supporting a complicated array of electronic equipment. It wasn’t unusual to have multiple radar domes and radio antenna on an ocean going craft.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

London England

Two couples who were obviously close friends sat at a window table in the opulent ‘The Park’ restaurant centered at the heart of one of the worlds most luxurious hotels. The Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, London, at 66 Knightsbridge Road was only a short walk from the prestigious address at Cadogan Square, home to where Interpol Special Detective Johnny Blunt lived with his equally famous literary agent lover Chelsea Redfern-Brightman. Their two young companions also owned their fair share of celebrity, despite the simple nature that both couples publicly presented. Johnny Blunt and Chelsea Redfern-Brightman were joined by their true friends, Dr. Hugh Witten and his very pregnant wife Debbie.

Dr.Witten was the internationally famous celebrity of the four, although no one would have guessed by his humble demeanor. His face had been plastered across the front pages of every newspaper on the planet for months after his fantastic calculations had saved the world from destruction. He was never going to outlive the moniker they’d given him as ‘the smartest man in the world’. His money was no good at ‘The Mandarin Oriental’ or any hotel in the world for that matter. World governments rotated a constant web of security ahead of him to ‘pick up the tab’ anywhere he went in spite of his own substantial personal wealth from the sale and royalties from inventions, patents and intellectual material.

The four companions had been strangers to one another a year before. They’d been thrust together by fateful occurrences that had overtaken them and bound their lives together irrevocably into the tight collective they were today. Special Detective Johnny Blunt had transitioned out of his life as a malcontent bachelor ex-cop from Vancouver, Canada who fourteen months ago thought he was at the end of his rope after being forced to retire from the police force. His physical and psychological recovery prognosis after being shot through the pelvic girdle several years before continued to deteriorate towards a negative outcome and he’d been put on extended administrative leave. When his condition worsened, they put him out to pasture permanently. On the morning that had changed his life he’d been routinely arresting a junkie openly shooting a load of smack into his arm down one of the many notorious alleyways along Vancouver’s notorious ‘Downtown East Side’.

This was a common enough occurrence witnessed anytime of the day on the mean streets of Vancouver’s internationally notorious open drug market centered on the corner of Main and Hastings, a mere two blocks from the trendy entertainment district of Yaletown where visiting American movie stars coming to work in Hollywood North could be seen flaunting their wealth in the glitzy bars and socially relevant cafes. Crack addicts scoured the sidewalks for the mood altering detrious of the glitterati where curbsides were lined with Ferrari’s and Porsches. It was a hell on Earth for poor folk who called the area ‘Pain and Wasting’

The area’s mentally ill patients were routinely discharged from the provinces health care facilities into the street to fend for themselves. They ended up lost down deep cracks in the sidewalks and addicted to the crystal methedrine they quickly bought with their welfare checks before the money was stolen from them by Salvadorean refugee gangs. A local politician had been quoted in a tabloid as saying The crazies want to live outside. Johnny remembered asking an addict whose flesh was rotting away from his bones and who spoke through a toothless maw, why he would want to do this to himself, the addict answered,

It makes life worth living for a little while.

The sad irony of the location was that only one hundred years before the billionaire philanthropist, Dale Carnegie, had chosen this exact spot to build the very first library in Western Canada. He’d intended it to be a place of enlightenment where the human spirit could soar.

In reality, the misery created a vortex of drug addiction and squalor. Years of debate and endless sums of money had been poured into the area producing zero result except more government social workers with higher wages and fat pensions. The cops were little more than garbage men, shuffling the human trash through the revolving door legal system. Johnny had chanced upon the worst variety that morning, a tweaker, the heroin addict who was also addicted to crack cocaine and in a state of twisted paranoia and violent hallucination. When he’d decided to move the junkie out of a doorway the doper had thought he was just another scumbag trying to rip him off. He’d pulled out a gun. In his delirium, the junkie didn’t see or hear Johnny announcing himself as a police man. He shot Johnny point blank and ran.

Johnny had taken to hard drinking when his department let him down. He’d lost everything before hitting bottom. He found himself in a coffin sized downtown condo, common in the city that offered nothing of the advertised lifestyle. He contemplated taking his own life as he considered spending the rest of his life in this urban purgatory. The strange fortune that had lifted him into the unglamorous world of private detecting gave him a second shot at life. He spent his first two years in business catching philandering husbands in illicit trysts at cheap motels and skip tracing abused runaways who didn’t want to be found.

A chance call from a lawyer he knew, Richard Travis, put him on to a case that would change his life dramatically. He’d been hired to track down a missing manuscript written by a famous author, mysteriously murdered upon its completion. While on the case he’d met the love of his life, Chelsea Redfern-Brightman, the author’s literary agent, in London where she lived and worked. They’d bonded romantically in the first moments of being in the same room together, as if their stars had collided in one of those billion to one occurrences that people talk about but never personally witness. Love at first sight was so rare but so beautiful.

* * * * *

Chapter 3

Bahia de Cabo San Lucas

Jack Soloman took in the sight as outlined by the broad bay. His sleek vessel thumped across the rounded tips of shallow waves entering the harbor as easily as a seal cresting out of the water. He scanned the fuel dock on the west side of the harbor with his aquatic Fujinon Techno Stabi-Image Stabilizing binoculars. Jack confirmed that there were no naval or marine police vessels present in the area. They would be in La Paz farther up the coast, doing their rounds, he knew that. He also knew that he didn’t have to worry about the land based police who had no air or aquatic capability. The closest Mexican government helicopter unit was far to the south in Acapulco on stand by for the President and his entourage who used the public aircraft as their own personal fleet to shuttle between the capital and the decadent coastal resort. He could see the village of Cabo clearly at over one thousand yards. The images of the street were as clear as if he’d been sitting in a café on the Camino Viejo a San Jose.

Good of the Tico’s to donate the great gear Jack smiled as he watched the activity on the bay through the hi-tech military quality lenses he’d captured.

He was watching carefully for any sign of a craft that shouldn’t be there. He was especially interested in any craft that could possibly have the power to match what he was running. It looked like the typical mix of sailboats and Gulf Coast fishing boats he’d anticipated. He’d spent weeks listening to the local radio chatter from his drifting sea anchorage well off the coast. He was of no interest to the American satellite patrol due to the drift of ocean current heading south. The US Coast Guard was only interested in craft going north, not some sun bum fisherman drifting away from them towards the Antarctic.

Jack had patiently waited for the Sun God Princess to make its only Central American anchorage after exiting the Panama Canal enroute to Alaska from Miami. In preparation he had commandeered the military engineered Zodiac FC 530 Futura Commando inflatable river craft from the Costa Rican Coast Guard base north of Puntarenas. It was steel framed, Kevlar armored, 17.5 feet long and 7 feet wide, perfect for stealth attacks and tight jungle waterways where maximum maneuverability was paramount. The twin Johnson 80 horsepower engines were heavy enough at just over seven hundred pounds to keep it from hydroplaning off the surface at full throttle. Under the foredeck tarpaulin there was a strut mounted .50 caliber Browning M2 machine gun fitted with a large capacity magazine so that the fully automatic ‘tree cutter’ could be converted to a hand operated portable weapon carried into the field, if necessary.

He’d begun his attack on the Costa Rican base in the dead hours of a moonless night from the floating base of his 60 feet sloop, the ‘Sulu Sea’. He’d left her to float several miles out on a sea anchor of two spinnakers in the water lashed into an open bucket. That would slow her drag to less than the four knots of current while he was away from her. His ten foot Avon inflatable companion craft had carried him silently into the naval marina. He was sure the sailor’s main compliment slept ashore as was customary because they didn’t carry food stores aboard their ship.

The day sailors of the demilitatarized Costa Rican Coast Guard came to work in the morning at nine, like office workers. That left only a skeleton crew of three men aboard. Jack knew they would be tucked in their bunks below deck after a night of drinking fiery Guaro sugar cane whiskey. All the same, he’d kitted out in black face and swam the last fifty yards in a slick black wet suit. He’d brought a lightweight 6 cubic foot Zeagle ‘Pony’ air tank for emergency use. He left the Avon tied to a mangrove and swam in, barely breaking a ripple in the black water.

Jack had a .9 millimeter Glock strapped to his thigh. He carried an AK-47 on a shoulder sling with two extra clips taped to the strap. The good thing about the AK was that it would fire from any position, good for a sub surface attack on an enemy from a vantage point below the waterline. He had the Vietnamese gun-runners in the South China Sea to thank for his well stocked arsenal. No one saw him creep out of the black water onto the pontoons lining the wharf. The tropical night song of cicadas trilling and Howler monkeys whooping in the jungle canopy covered his footfall as he boarded the Costa Rican Coast Guard cutter.

He saw the Zodiac he wanted strapped to the boat deck of the cutter, ready to be launched by a set of swinging lanyards. Jack let his senses guide him into the vessel and down the dark companionway. The sounds of drunken snoring men sleeping deeply under the effects of alcohol led him. He slit their throats one by one and soundlessly took command of the ship as he had done many times before. Jack raided their gun lockers but found that he was better armed than they were. Just to be sure he wouldn’t be followed he sabotaged the communications and the running gear.

* * * * *

Chapter 4

Cabo San Lucas

Jack eased the throttles back on the Zodiacs outboards as the fantastic cruise ship filled the horizon on his approach. He merged into the whining flurry of recreational motor craft surrounding the giant. The scene reminded him of a cloud of moths buzzing around a bright light. He entered the exposed bubble around the ship cautiously looking for any sign of security. Rounding the bulbous bow of the ship he drifted under the massive anchor chain, whose individual links were four times the size of a man, which was slowly pivoting the ship around on the outgoing ebb tide.

The raking prow of the ship faced the town, the anchor chain hung out of the Hawes Holes on the port side of the bow at a distinctly sharp angle as if the ship was tugging away at its harness wanting to run free. Jack circled the ship like a hunter, stalking it and sensing for weakness. The superstructure soared over his head. It was impossible to imagine how massive a ship like this was until you were sitting underneath it. Partially submerged gangway doors at the well-deck level on either side of the ship lay wide open at the waterline. Holiday makers spilled out either side of the ship in the aquatic toys that would give them access to the pristine waters of the beckoning bay.

Recreational equipment slipped out of the belly of the ship as if she was giving birth to dozens of live offspring that took to life with a buzz and screaming with delight as soon as they’d hit the open water. He eased up to the underside of the gangway and deftly lassoed a line around a silver cleat and one handedly looped the line into a figure eight to hold his feather light craft fast. The chaotic scene inside the ship seemed dark to his eyes after the glaring sun outside. He could hear beleaguered crewmen patiently helping excited adults and squealing children into lifejackets. They were giving them last minute instructions regarding safety and usage of the Sea-Doos, glass bottomed row boats and windsurfers. All these guidelines and regulations fell on the deaf ears of people who wanted to be outside five minutes ago and saw the open gangway as the gate to A Funland of Adventure and Excitement as promised in the brochures. Jack felt confident that he fit in without drawing attention to himself in the midst of the chaos.

He’d dressed in a white tropical weight linen suit befitting the role of a man on vacation. A loose shirt underneath wasn’t tucked in accordance with the latest style. No one thought twice to notice the deeply tanned man whose white hair matched his suit passing by with a self assured sense of belonging and air of aloof confidence. He hid his blue eyes behind dark sun glasses to keep from instilling instinctual fear from creeping in to any that saw him had they reacted to the predatory look of a wolf amongst the sheep. He could have been a movie producer or an executive who’d dressed down.

So far so good he thought to himself as he breezed through the crowd.

Jack adjusted the compact weapons carried under his tropical weight jacket. He had the element of surprise going for him. No one would suspect he would be armed after everyone had been prescreened by a metal detector and bag search before boarding the ship in Florida. He knew that any crewman who might discover the Zodiac tied to the ramp would report it to an officer first. Any first inspection would most likely exclaim it as a police vessel visiting the ship. The markings on the craft were military style in Spanish. The equipment on board would make it obvious to any crewman that it was not a pleasure craft. After that it would have had to be reported to the captain to ascertain if there were any official visitors on the roster. All that would take time.

Hiding in plain sight he whistled as he walked through the crowd, never making eye contact so that no one would remember him.

He moved quickly toward the passage of the sweep deck that would take him up. He’d downloaded a blueprint of the ship off the internet and saw his route to the top decks as a technical image in his mind. His training at reading blueprints had allowed him to find the quickest and most vulnerable choke points on the ship. He gained access to the guts of the ship easily, there was no security. His target was high above on the fourteenth deck, just behind the wheelhouse. He moved quickly through the bowels and hallways of mixed use corridors until he began to see the splendid luxury of the passenger area.

Soaring ten stories above his head was a spectacular vaulted atrium. The sound of falling water and an Oriental inspired soundtrack filled the air. He recognized the familiar sounds of the Japanese Koto strings. The dozen layered balconies lining the giant space were trimmed with brass and reflective surfaces accentuating the vaulted glass paneled ceiling. It gave the interior of the ship the appearance of a sparkling diamond mine. He saw the elevator was exposed for viewing the magnificent display of opulence.

A group of chattering ladies were boarding, they noticed the new man who had slipped into their gaggle. Seeing this tall handsome man made all the women titter with sexual awareness and the hope of a mythical shipboard romance. He pressed his number on the keypad before the one woman holding the swipe card noticed that Jacks broad hand had ‘accidentally’ slipped over hers before she had a chance to take it off the panel. She swept her eyes up at him and he met her gaze with a wide smile. The woman feigned becoming weak in the knees and fanned herself with her swipe card. This charade sent a wave of laughter through the rest of the girls.

The women arrived at their chosen floors leaving Jack alone with only their hungry goodbyes hanging in the sexually charged air of the elevator cabin.

I’ll have to take a cruise sometime he mumbled, knowing he was far too notorious to ever surface so publicly.

One of the ‘ladies’ had tweaked his behind as she’d passed. The elevators sultry mechanical voice told him that he’d reached his destination at deck thirteen, one deck below the ships vault. Passengers had access to deck thirteen for medical clinics, administrative offices and Purser’s office services. The business of passenger relations was housed under the elegantly designed bridge sitting like a tiara on the head of a princess.

As he gained entrance the halls were silent, except for the voices of a few crew members working inside the various cubicles lining the companionway. The glass lined hall had doors fixed at regular intervals, each with a nameplate. Jack had studied the habits of the crew long before his planned boarding. It had taken him months of careful assessment and studious analysis of the working systems he may encounter. He had out maneuvered the Mexican police and military responses by evading and understanding the gaping holes in their schedules and capabilities. The Mexican Navy was non existent except for the shore stations located in major tourist centers. However, without ships they were impotent.

Like Canada, Mexico relied on the largesse and regional dominance of the United States for national security. Under the Pax Americana the western hemisphere was an American expense. He had learned that the two dilapidated Costa Rican CH-146 Griffin Vietnam era search and rescue helicopters had been deployed on the other side of the country in Caribbean waters at the request of the Americans in the war to intercept the lightning fast cocaine smuggling boats that burst out of the jungle rivers on the Rio Hacha coast of northern Columbia. Like most helicopters of that vintage they would need more hours of maintenance than they had flight hours of air time. The risk of sending them too far out over open water was great.

They would need to refuel at the base in San Jose before leaving on any sea based rescue missions. The Griffins had a stated total distance range of four hundred and five miles when new. They wouldn’t travel two hundred now and Jacks sloop was two hundred miles off shore. That meant there was no one to chase him except the Americans and they wouldn’t be involved chasing a Costa Rican Coast Guard craft wanted for a crime in Mexican waters. Besides he planned to be far away before anyone could mount a coordinated search for him. He’d be hidden amongst the hundreds of yachts and commercial tramps streaming down the coast in the seasons migration towards the sunny South Pacific.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

London

Johnny’s relationship with Dr. Hugh Witten had the hallmarks of a perfect partnership; they were indeed ‘partners in crime’ and antipodal opposites. The case of the missing manuscript that Johnny had been working on had led him and Hugh unwittingly into parallel investigations, although at first neither of them knew of the significance of the others existence along the peripheries of their own work. After a chance meeting they both immediately recognized the merits of working together, and that they worked better together than they could apart. They complimented each other in that text book partnership sort of way. Each had the strengths and qualities unique to themselves that the other lacked. During the course of the investigation a respectful and personal relationship had developed.

Johnny Blunt and Hugh Witten had come to realize by talking to one another that they had both made the exact same mistake of living isolated and sedentary lives. John had been the first to admit that he had been enlivened as a person by the incredible result that their meeting had on him. He knew he’d spent the past ten years wasted with his wrongheaded thinking that everyone except him was an ‘asshole’. He knew that the attitude had come from being a cop and associating himself with the scum of the world, including his fellow cops.

Hugh was the opposite; he’d come out of his self imposed shell from being a world apart in the rarefied environment of high academia, where he had chosen not to associate socially with the rest of the world whom he felt cut off from because of the spectacular level of his genius. A nascent spark had ignited when his taste for excitement had been whetted, he suddenly found himself in love with a girl, and for the first time in his life he wasn’t alone any longer.

Life suddenly became real to Hugh, as if he’d been enlivened after having been in a coma. His wife Debbie had been his waitress at the restaurant he’d frequented for years when he was forced by animal urgency to feed himself after spending uncounted days in the physics lab he occupied in the bowels of his university. He hadn’t realized that she’d taken the place of his patient mother who had waited on him hand and foot as had been similarly done for his scientist father before him. He had only to open his eyes and see the love she had for him. They married in a quiet ceremony immediately after Hugh had finished developing the monumental super computer hadron collider that now sat idle on the top of the world. Neither of them had any friends in common.

The foursome were enjoying an impeccably prepared lunch by the famous chef Basil Richmond. It was a rare day in late March that the clouds had parted and the English sun had broken through a gray winter sky. It had been an unusually difficult winter for Britons; some called it ‘the worst in sixty years’. However the warming trend of a nascent spring had caused the foliage along the boulevards and the magnificent green belt of Hyde Park to burst aggressively through the soil and take the first tentative steps towards Spring.

The giant variegated elms along the boulevard were in bud, the newly running sap inside was pushing out delicate rosettes of liquid green along the branch tips lifting temporarily the dreary grayness from the cityscape. The trees had stood for months like solitary centurions cloaked in a camouflage of mottled gray and black bark against the perpetual inclemency. Timid swaths of late blooming golden daffodils shot up in random patches, as if testing the air with a few brave volunteers before the majority sprang out of bed. It had been ‘ages’ since Johnny and Chelsea had enjoyed a ‘brunch’ out together, preferring their own company when the dreary weather of London kept them in bed or busily working.

The happy occurrence of Hugh and Debbie coming to London from their home in Vancouver on the last possible vacation window before Debbie gave birth came just at the right time. London seemed to have burst to life with winter’s reluctant retreat. As they were eating the healthy appetizers, they were treated to a quintessentially English sight. The Household Cavalry began to troop by the restaurant windows down the high street as they proceeded from the Knightsbridge Barracks to their duty station at Buckingham Palace.

Oh look Hugh Debbie said as she excitedly grasped her husbands arm.

It’s just like I saw on the travel show on TV.

Indeed, it was a magnificent sight. Debbie’s rosy face lit up with an innocent wonder. She and Hugh had been married for a year. They had chosen a comfortable home near the university. Hugh had never been much of a traveler but was now becoming eager to see the world. Debbie had never had much a life and hadn’t thought she would ever leave the confines of dreary Raincouver. They had spent the first year of their marriage as a newly wed couples do, decorating their home and constantly making love. Despite the wealth Hugh had put away, they seemed not to notice the money. This was the first time they had travelled together and the first time Debbie had ever left Canada. In her ‘delicate condition’ and at Chelsea’s urging they had come to London for a break before the period of motherhood and family life overpowered every other dimension in their young lives. Johnny had told her what a ‘provincial hole in the wall’ Vancouver was, and vowed never to force her to go there. She did her research and thanked him.

Chelsea and Johnny gave the newlyweds a running commentary of the scene as the colorful troops paraded by. Chelsea began by explaining that the Household Cavalry was stationed in barracks here in Knightsbridge to be close enough to the Queen should any emergency arise in Buckingham Palace a few blocks away. That tradition went back to the 1700’s. John had studied the technical aspects of the guards as he had been just as awestruck as were Hugh and Debbie the first time he’d witnessed the magnificent display of British tradition trooping so close to his home. It had been one of his first experiences close up of how closely and proudly British citizens held their traditions and the reverence in which they held the Queen of England. For a Canadian that had no cultural heritage to speak of except to watch in silence as a stream of incompetent governments drove the country into ever deeper debt and despair, he felt good to be a part of something that had its roots so firmly entrenched.

John told the pie eyed pair of novice travelers about how the Household Cavalry was a ceremonial cavalry regiment that was maintained to provision the ‘Sovereigns Escort’. It consisted of one squadron of each regiment of the Life Guards, The famed ‘Blues and Royals’, and the ancient ‘Headquarters Squadron’, all stationed at Hyde Park Barracks Knightsbridge on the grounds of one of the many enormous public parks and open spaces London maintained for the citizens. They admired the magnificent black stallions the soldier-volunteers rode with such easy regal grace. The horses had impeccable breeding to match their magnificent physical appearance, each with a blazing white star prominent on their forelock. Each horse was the perfect match to its brother and sister in the troop. Their black coats and white stars shone especially bright this morning in the perfect spring sunlight that lay so generously down the high street. Giant looking guardsmen of the ‘Blues and Royals’ all chosen for their imposing stature, rode the stallions wearing black uniforms with red striped pants and jackets festooned with golden buttons and sprays of golden cord lashed generously over their shoulders.

Each man wore an ornately decorated helmet with a red colored horse’s mane bursting from atop the golden crest. They each had elbow length white gloves and extravagantly jeweled silver hilted sabers accentuating an already richly appointed appearance.

They do this everyday? asked Debbie awestruck at the display of men and equine perfection.

Yes, every day like clock work answered Chelsea, proud to be a part of this history.

John and Hugh were standing now at the window to better see the full display. John was giving his best impression of a tour guide. Chelsea was happy to see her lover so animated.

He’s such a boy sometimes she said to Debbie and the two women laughed together embracing, thinking that the men reminded them of little boys who had discovered a set of toy soldiers and were screwed down to the carpet to play at war on the floor of their bedroom.

Debbie said Johnny seems to have recovered from his leg wound. He stands much straighter than when I saw him last.

Chelsea said with a twinkle in her eye

Oh, I’ve got him straightened out all right, and both women laughed at her mischievous and titillating joke.

Johnny was pointing out the ‘Second Regiment’ who were dressed in golden jackets and what appeared to resemble steeplechase helmets. Each man astride his magnificent steed held a brass instrument of some kind as if eager to announce their presence to the world with a blast at the least provocation.

That’s quite a sight John Hugh said to his friend as they took in the parade.

I wish you two could come over more often John replied to Hugh.

Since I’ve been living here in England and having easy access to the rest of Europe it’s really opened my eyes to the world he continued.

I’d like to get out more said Hugh with a smile on his face but my work around the house has kept me busy".

He nudged Johnny’s arm and the two of them laughed over the fact the Hugh was about to become a father after having barely making it to the altar before Debbie announced her pregnancy.

Yeah John replied with a snort I can see you’ve been real busy.

It was hard to not to notice Debbie’s pregnant presence in a crowd, as she said ‘she was as big as a house and eating for three’. Hugh had purchased two first class tickets for her so that she was comfortable on the flight over. He had offered her a private jet but Debbie had refused by saying,

Oh Hugh, everyone will think I’m a snob.

Besides she said I want to see everything in the airport and all the people. It’s exciting for me.

He didn’t want to tell her that the security bubble around them meant that ninety nine percent of the people who got within ten feet of her were undercover agents guarding them. She pretended not to notice. Hugh and Debbie were waiting for the perfect time to announce to their best friends that she was expecting twins, a boy and a girl and she wanted nothing more than to live the life of a happy couple in love.

It doesn’t look like you’ve been idle yourself replied the ‘smartest man in the world.’

Johnny knew that Chelsea had never looked better. Chelsea had unbelievably grown more beautiful than ever. She glowed with an inner beauty that turned people’s heads as she passed. She exuded a special energy that made people feel happier to be in her presence. Johnny had left his cane behind. He had worked with the best surgeons and physiotherapists in Europe and unlike their Canadian counterparts assured John that his prognosis for recovery was excellent.

The old bullet wound in his hip still hurt when the scar tissue got exposed to the cold but normally he felt like a whole man again.

To tell you honestly Hugh he leaned over to whisper in his friend’s ear If I’d stayed in Vancouver I may have never recovered.

He looked back at Chelsea and thanked God for every second he had with her. His life had turned around so dramatically that he couldn’t recognize his old memories when they crept back into his dreams and the occasional déjà vu.

John said Hugh I have to admit something to you.

His old friend the detective said to him Hugh, I wondered when you’d spill your guts.

Hugh looked surprised for a second and remembered who he was talking to, both of them laughed when John made a stern face. Hugh relied with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

I should have known you’d have me at ‘Hello’ you old rogue Hugh chided.

Can’t kid a kidder John replied whistling a comical tune reminiscent of the calliope tune that circuses use in their advertising.

I’m an old fool right?

Nothing of the kind admitted the scientist. I was hoping I could slip one past you that’s all.

What’s on your mind Hugh said John seeing that his friend was building up to something but couldn’t get it out of his mouth.

Ah Hugh stammered my old friend Richard Travis called me a few days ago about an interesting case he had been offered.

You mean the cruise ship piracy? answered John unaffected.

Yes, how did you know Hugh turned and faced his old friend as if he’d just performed a feat of magic.

I have my sources Johnny deadpanned.

I already agreed to take it he let his friend off the hook.

I knew you’d want in so I ‘agreed’ for you too.

I knew you weren’t coming to London with a wife who’s seven months pregnant for a ‘trooping of the colors Hugh he pointed at the horse guard still passing by the window.

Can Debbie stay with Chelsea for a bit? asked Hugh.

Already made up the spare suite my boy, she’ll be as comfortable as a bug on the rug

Johnny turned and winked at Chelsea who reacted with delight. She was clearly in on the plan all along Hugh realized. He stared at the two of them wondering how smart they were to have unraveled his conspiracy. It was as if his friend had read his mind from a continent away.

You’re like ‘The Amazing Kreskin John", Hugh said giving his friend a light punch on the shoulder. Hugh had never had much ‘guy time’ in his life and it felt good to ‘be a guy’.

Sure Hugh he deadpanned.

I’m a psychic, that’s how I solve all my cases, didn’t you know? and the two men laughed.

When Hugh had received the call from his friend and lawyer Richard Travis, he had been immediately intrigued and also felt a rush of adrenalin course through his veins. The exciting possibilities of hooking up with Johnny Blunt and getting his teeth into an interesting case had him ‘chomping at the bit’ to get involved. The work he was doing in the lab could wait he’d decided, his assistants were capable men in their own right. They encouraged him to go when he suggested that he may take ‘some time off’. He and Richard Travis had both been bitten by the detecting bug as the two of them had hitherto led boring and coddled lives, one as a scientist and the other a country club lawyer.

Both men were from an ivory tower social stratum that would have never exposed them to the goings on of the real world. They idolized Johnny for his gruff demeanor and tough street smart ways. Like many urban men much of their self image of masculinity was derived from the actions of others. Hugh wasn’t weak minded to the point of being able to drive a truck through the holes in his personality, like a hockey fan or mixed martial arts watcher but still, Johnny represented an homage to a traditional man that he didn’t know how to be. Each man had realized that together they made a great team. Richard with his international connections had promised to find them intriguing and highly profitable cases. Hugh provided any technical information from his vast store of knowledge and Johnny would lead the investigation as they all agreed "He had a nose