Comeuppance: Epilogue

Comeuppance: Epilogue

Comeuppance is a punishment or fate someone deserves. Many in this tale about corruption at the highest levels have received their 'just desserts,' but not all. The protagonist, Jack Armstrong, meted out comeuppance to deserving crime lords in chapter one, then the tale delved into the stories behind the devolution of his sister and wife, and his efforts to resolve their stories with videographic evidence at his disposal.

As in all my paltry tales, I inserted storylines around the people, places, and things around Jack, including cultural information that some consider wasting their time. Guess what? There is more in the Epilogue that many wanted, so if you're one of them, don't waste more time - move on.

Also, I warned that there was no 'happy ending' to this tale. The guilty have been/ are being punished or have met the fate they deserve, which means the end of this tale of comeuppance.

Characters still exist and may interact in future tales, but this one is done.

****

When you are waiting to learn the fate of two people you love, no news isn't good news. The days drug by, but Jamaican authorities would only say they had found the scene of the plane crash and had not been able to send divers down due to storms in the area, and the dangers posed by a named tropical storm moving toward their island from Africa.

The three lawmen returned home the day after the crash, but Carl, Jack, Abraham, Charlie, and Alfred remained at the coastal Happy Place, fishing, drinking, telling stories, and sharing remembrances for three days after the plane crash. They would have stayed longer, to avoid the mess at the ranch, the press, and the investigators, but they got a summons from the FBI.

Jack wanted to blow it off, but Abraham didn't want the feds getting a hard-on for Delta Cross. If they chose, they could make being in the security business a lot less fun and lucrative, so they packed up and headed northwest. Most of the trip was spent on the phone talking to attorneys. No one knew whether their interviews with the FBI were routine eyewitness interviews, or 'gotcha' questioning based on Sue and Croc's internet exploits, questions about where they got the military goods and the money to buy them, or questions about the disappearances of April and Janice.

Regardless, legal advice and representation was needed.

Carl, Jack, and the others returned home two days after news of the plane crash was reported, to meet with the FBI, which had questions. Jack and Carl's attorney and friend Donnie Baker was their legal representative, as well as Alfred's; his partner, Bill James, represented Captain Cross and Charlie.

When their attorneys came to the interviews with them, the team of special agents questioned their need for legal representation. "Let's see," Jack answered, "since we've had six federal agents from three agencies here for months, and they participated in planning, in the battles, and in the aftermath, it's doubtful that you need details about what they witnessed.

"Therefore, you're looking for a scapegoat - someone, or a few someones, to blame all this on, and lower the clamor for justice in Washington... or maybe to shift the blame away from the guilty in Washington.

"Well, boys, we may look like we just fell off the turnip truck wearing our faded jeans and dusty boots, but we're not the suckers you're looking for; it wasn't us, and you already know what we know. If you don't, ask your own agents!"

The middle-Eastern looking gentleman with a well-trimmed black beard tried to appear offended; his two partners, one of whom had been in Cow County for at least two months, looked abashed.

Umar Nahyan took the initiative; he introduced himself, and then reassured Jack, "Mr. Armstrong, we've just trying to clear up a few matters about which we're uncertain. It is our duty to interview all those involved, so we can get a pure and unblemished picture of what happened and why, and clear each person involved of any wrong doing.

Jack surreptitiously glanced at James, who had been involved with the planning and execution of the defense. While maintaining a neutral face, he lowered his right hand with his thumb extended downward. Jack turned back to Umar, and said, "I don't believe you. If you were being honest, the Special Counsel would be here, or at least acknowledge that he's listening. You're trying to trick the rubes, so, yeah, we have legal representation, and this meeting will be recorded on our side as well."

"That's not allowed, but we will provide you with transcripts of the interviews..." Umar began, before being rudely interrupted by laughter.

When things quieted down, Jack looked at his attorney, and said. "They don't have warrants, and I'm not prone to walk into a trap, so I'm out of here. Before I go, I do have one question for you, Mr. Omar Nahyan. Your surname - Nahyan - isn't that the same as one of the royal families of the Emirates? You know, like Sheik Ahmad Ali Al Nahyan? The one whose plane crashed off the coast of Jamaica, killing my wife and sister."

Umar / Omar turned red beneath his black beard before replying, "Yes, we are kin, but only distantly. I was educated in the United States and now have dual citizenship. I don't personally know the gentleman of whom you speak."

"Fact check that when we get home, Alfred. Something seems off to me." Jack said, and then turned and left with Carl and the others trailing close behind.

"We WILL get a warrant, Mr. Armstrong, and next time we will be more insistent!" Nahyan yelled out the door.

"Then next time you need a much bigger room; my entire legal team will be here, and there aren't enough chairs for us in there," Jack said over his shoulder.

That warrant must have been harder to come by than Omar thought, because he soon packed up and left the area. When questioned, Elias, James, and Rene opined that the powers in DC would prefer to let sleeping dogs lie when it came to Jack and his allies in Cow County.

****

A week passed while the storms passed the island, and then another; the wreckage had been moved and scattered by the storm currents, and the government had onshore storm damage, injuries, and deaths of citizens that were more pressing than recovering plane crash victims from the sea.

It was during week three that the Sheriff got the call: the remains of three male bodies had been recovered. The denizens of the deep had feasted on the bodies, making physical identification impossible, but the CSI was able to draw some conclusions.

The pilot's body - so identified because he was wearing a uniform, was strapped into the pilot's chair, and had identification in his pocket - was in much better condition than the other two, and mostly intact. The plane had broken in two upon impact, with the rear section now standing at a 45 degree angle to the bottom in thirty feet of water. Two bodies were found trapped in that section. There were lacerations on their bodies, possibly due to contact with the jagged, broken metal in that section of the plane. They were missing their clothing, their genitals, and most of their internal organs, upon which the sea life had apparently feasted.

Their remains had been recovered and were in the hands of a medical examiner, who was running DNA tests for identification purposes.

Although luggage with female clothing, makeup, and passports was found in the luggage compartment, no other bodies were found in the area. Jamaican authorities surmised that the lighter female bodies were washed or pulled out of the rear section and floated or were pulled away from the wreckage.

That was a grisly and disturbing picture for their survivors, but a wider search was not planned due to the urgent situation on the storm-ravaged island.

****

Jack formally and personally grieved the loss of his wife and sister, as did Carl, their friends, and what few kin they had. Many others also grieved the loss of Janice and April, aka Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. Those tales were resurrected, and their journal, dubbed "The Heroic Journey of April and Janice," again drew heavy airplay and YouTube hits.

Dominating even the hero worship, however, were exhortations that anyone responsible for enslaving and/or abusing these and the other brave women be brought to justice, which suddenly became a talking point for politicians and candidates.

Not that they actually wanted justice - they would gladly bury the whole thing in favor of generous 'donations' from the very wealthy accused - but the public outcry was compelling and convincing, especially when your opponent was embracing it, so the outrage was unanimous.

Committees were formed in both houses, rhetoric was spouted verbosely, they primped and posed, and the special counsel was verbally assaulted for his failure to timely capture the scoundrels, and ordered to report to the committees. He ignored the verbal cyclones and went about his business quietly... but interviews were being held, and documents, both paper and electronic, were being carefully reviewed by his investigators, and a special grand jury had been convened.

The convening of the grand jury seemed to open flight corridors to late-summer vacations in exotic locales by persons of interest, from which they waited to see the indictments.

The government men, state and local, had moved on from the Armstrong Ranch by Labor Day. The Delta Cross foot soldiers moved on a week later, leaving only a few experienced members, armed with MANPADS and other sophisticated weaponry, scattered in the area - just in case. The helicopter and UAV pilots also remained - just in case - but the UAV command center returned to the Law Enforcement Building in town.

The sheriff seized the ranch across the river from unknown owners hidden behind shell corporations, and promptly announced, via various mediums, the intent to sell it in ninety days unless the owners stepped forward to present their defense.

And to be arrested for the illegal activities staged there, but that wasn't broadcast. No one immediately responded, so Jack let Rene know he would be a bidder when the time came; Rene smiled.

With only seven mouths to feed at the ranch, including their new full-time ranch hand, Jose, Chita and Cilla no longer came each day. Instead, one or the other brought packaged heat-and-eat meals twice weekly and stored them in the XL barndomenium refrigerator. The young ladies were pleasant and friendly, but respectful of the mourning period for Carl and Jack.

With the reconstruction of the house underway, the cousins lived in adjacent rooms in the barndo, and took their meals in the larger room that previously served as the UAV control room. The gym remained in place at the end of the metal building, but the large, open space in which April received PT/OT and did her rehab became their office/ meeting room/ living room.

Here they received visitors, displayed the flowers and correspondence that arrived from across the country and world, and accepted in-person condolences from friends and acquaintances, all of which had decreased before Labor Day.

They conducted business, ran the ranch, and oversaw the rebuilding of the ranch headquarters/ historic Armstrong home. For all intents, purposes, and appearances, after the first month, they had returned to life as they lived it before April and Janice reappeared. For Jack, it was more like the months after April first disappeared, as he relived and rehashed their lives together deep into the night, constantly feeling guilty about not being able to protect them and straighten things out with April.

Alfred ignored all the commotion above his basement domain and continued his work, even sleeping on a full bed he installed in one of the small conference rooms. He kept the doors to the tunnel and hallway locked and possessively guarded his domain.

After the federal and state LEOs were gone, he went over his realm with a fine-tooth comb. He determined that nothing of significance had been found or altered, and that no devices had been left with which to spy on him. He and his two cross-country cronies continued to communicate and coordinate as they carried out their secret charges from Jack.

September was a beloved month in the Brush Country for three reasons: football season was underway; it was one of the rainiest months; and, it finally began to cool down, at least out of triple digits, by the end of the month. Jack and Carl showed up at the home football games on Thursday evenings, whether seventh and eighth grade team or freshman and junior varsity were playing. People got used to seeing them out and about, and the need to express condolences faded, which made being out more fun.

They followed the varsity Cowtown Cowponies whether at home or away, and made most of the home high school volleyball games, just as they had before April and Janice returned. Chita and Cilla figured it out, and soon they were at the same games, sitting in the same section, and chatting with the men.

Having been volleyball stars and football cheerleaders they were knowledgeable about both sports, and their exuberance and enthusiasm made the games more fun for Jack and Carl... and for everyone sitting around them.

The fifth varsity football game was in Somerset, just south of San Antonio, and Cilla called Carl to ask if they could catch a ride, explaining that they didn't like driving in the traffic so close to the city. He and Jack saw right through the ploy - the girls went to school at TWU in Denton, in a very congested part of the DFW Metroplex. But, after all, who wouldn't want the vivacious and gorgeous girls along?

What did surprise the men was being told to pick them up at their home a few minutes early so they could say hello to their parents before leaving. Mr. Garcia was a successful businessman who owned a variety of stores and restaurants, and thousands of acres of land, but he was extremely old fashioned about his girls, and adamant about maintaining the purity of their Spanish bloodlines in future generations.

Two European curs of Scottish, Irish, and Norwegian blood was not what he had in mind for his future sons-in-law.

"You know we're walking right into a firestorm, don't you Cuz?" Jack commented to Carl. "And for what? Yeah, they're cute and cuddly and all, but we're just buds! Somehow, though, I don't think El Señor is going to see us that way!"

"Then give him that hangdog look you keep on your face most of the time, and play up recently becoming a widower who isn't a threat to his posterity! Just don't let your first look at Chita turn that pobrecito mio face and posture into a big ol silly grin, like she usually does to you. He ain't gonna buy the 'just buds' story if you do!

"As for me, the only thing keeping Cilla and I 'buds' is Cilla. She's got me hooked, and she's playing me like a trout on a fly rod! Won't be long 'til I go belly up, so I guess I'll find out then just how badly I was played.

"Chita, though - she looks at you like Demi looks at Rob in that bathtub scene in your favorite movie, About Last Night. All YOU have to do is ask, or even act like you'll say yes if she asks!"

"Dude, I just lost my wife and sister! I'm not fit company yet, much less a fit romantic companion. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Did you just lose them, Jack? It seems like several years since we both lost them, minus a few months of visitation during which April barely spoke to you."

"That was my fault! If I had just let them tell me what happened..."

"Sorry, friend, but it wasn't going to work whichever way you played it. You weren't going to get over what she did while she was gone, her failure to tell you what was going on, and, especially, their continued commitment to their escort duties after they were told you were dead! And I'm not even touching running off with that fuckin' King and the Sheik!

"I don't want to speak ill of the dead - if they are dead - but that journal is their attempt to tell their story in a favorable light. I've watched enough of the unedited tapes to know there is more to their story than the journal describes... and so have you, if you're honest."

"Maybe, Carl, but still... it's only been two months. It wouldn't be decent to start dating so soon!"

"It's been almost three months, but just continue to punish yourself; look at the good that's doing you! But, hey, if wallowing in your own pity makes you feel better, go ahead. Me, I'm moving on. If those two wanted to be here, they would be! They abandoned us; we didn't abandon them!"

****

Friday night found Jack wearing dress khakis, a nice pullover in school colors, and dress boots. He was resolved to face the old Grandee, or at least put up a semblance of a fight before fleeing his haught.

When Chita answered the door, he was glad he had gathered his courage. Her eyes took him in, and he could see her appreciation for his having "dressed up" to meet their parents.

Carl had taken guidance from Jack, and received the same look of appreciation after a slow once-over from Cilla.

"Mamá, Papá, I believe you know these gentlemen: Jack Armstrong and Carl Armstrong. Jack and Carl, do I need to introduce you to our parents?"

"Of course not! Carl and I have known Mrs. and Mr. Garcia as long as I can remember. In fact, we've bought lots of groceries, meats, gas and diesel, propane, and furniture from your parents! Good afternoon, Mam, Mr. Garcia!"

Jack extended his hand as he approached them, hoping at least one would shake it. The intimidating look he was getting from Eduardo didn't make him hopeful, but Mrs. Garcia stepped forward and extended her hand palm down; he took it, leaned over, and air kissed her hand in the courtly manner.

"Mr. Armstrong, we want to offer our condolences for the tragic loss of your wife and sister. Based on the news reports, their lives were disrupted by unscrupulous men and women, as was your life. We regret that, and hope you find solace in the days to come."

"Thank you, Mrs. Garcia. Carl and I are slowly recovering, and we want to acknowledge that having your talented, charming, and vivacious daughters cook and deliver our meals, and sit near us at volleyball and football games, does help considerably."

Turning his attention, Jack said, "Mr. Garcia, thank you for allowing us into your home. You're a man I've always looked up to, for your business savvy and the principles to which you adhere in all aspects of your life."

Though still steely eyed, Eduardo Garcia, took Jack's extended hand and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Armstrong. It has been a pleasure to watch you and your cousin grow from rowdy boys to mature men of principle. I hope you both will accept my condolences for your losses."

Carl had already taken and kissed the hand of Mrs. Garcia, and now stood beside Jack with his hand extended to Mr. Garcia. With little to no hesitation, his hand was gripped and shaken.

"I hear you have offered to give my daughters a ride to the Cowponies game in Somerset," Mr. Garcia casually remarked.

"We have, Sir," Carl answered. "We've enjoyed having them sit near enough to school us on the intricacies of volleyball, and to inform us about the backgrounds and families of the football players. They seem to know everyone in the community, and everything about them!"

Their Mamá interjected, "Yes, they have always been social butterflies with a bit more interest in other people than I prefer. Yet, they were honor students in high school and college, and have begun a successful catering and event organizing business. We're quite proud of them... and quite protective of them."

The last was spoken with a raised eyebrow, necessitating a reassuring response. "We certainly see why you are proud and protective; they are very special young women," Carl responded. "While neither we nor anyone else can assure you we will all return unharmed, we can assure you we will do our very best to avoid accidents, and to ensure they come to no injury or harm before, during, or after the game."