When First We Practice To Deceive

"Joe," the voice said, "that was then and this is now. Please, I really do need to talk to you. In person."

"OK. Ok. How about 10 this morning? I can meet you out of the office if you wish or you can come in, whichever you want," said Joe.

"Out, I think. Do you know the Waffle House out on RT 28?" asked the voice.

"Yes," said Joe.

"Good, I will meet you there at 10:30 if that works for you," replied Davies.

"Yes. Yes. OK 10:30 then," Joe said, "John, are you OK? Do YOU need something, anything?"

The voice was quiet for a few minutes, Joe was afraid the connection had been lost when the voice came back, "I am fine now, thank you for the offer, I always thought of you as my friend, Joseph, your words mean a lot. Thank you."

++++++

They sat down in a booth along the back wall of the Waffle House. Davies had already started on a coffee before Joe arrived.

"So, Joseph, I need to ask you a question," Davies almost whispered, "Your children were hurt by these people. It almost broke your son and Isabel appears to be withdrawing from day to day reality at an accelerating rate. So, I need to ask you, what do you want?"

Joe was stunned, "How do you know that? How do you know about Rob and Izzy?" He was looking hard at his friend.

Davies returned the stare. His eyes slowly blinked and when they opened it was almost as if the pupils were vertical. He blinked again and they looked normal. Joe shivered and covered his eyes with his hands. "Stop doing that!" he nearly shouted, "Christ that is fucked up!"

Davies continued to look at Joe. He cocked his head a bit to the right, like a wolf deciding when to attack and where to take the first bite, and said, "Your children were hurt. Do you wish for justice or vengeance?"

"What the fuck!" Joe said, "Justice or vengeance?"

"Exactly," Davies replied, "Justice is what Captain Bedford and the guys are planning for you. I on the other hand will offer you vengeance. It is after all your choice."

"Johnathan," Joe urgently said, "What have you done now? What are you planning? Not another Rwanda for God's sake!"

"Joseph, calm yourself. I am just an old friend asking you a rhetorical question," Davies said.

"John," Joe said, "with you there is nothing rhetorical. I need to know, what have you done?"

"Done? Done? Why my friend, I have DONE nothing, yet. That is why I need to know your mind," Davies said. Reaching across the table, he gripped Joe's arm; more like clamped onto it. "Think carefully, but I do require an answer soon."

Standing up, Davies rapidly exited the restaurant. Joe was left holding just his memories and a slip of paper with ten digits written on it.

+++++++

It was now late September, almost October. The Battel CAP as they thought of themselves, and which in fact they were acting as, was meeting at the Marriot again, this time with the intel guys from VADM Cohen.

Bedford started the meeting, "OK. Let's get this show started. This morning Mr. X, Mr. Y and Ms. Z are with us. I would ask that for this meeting you all utilize these names, even if you personally know one or more of these individuals. At this time, I will turn the briefing over to Mr. Y."

As the man identified as Y went to the front of the room, Mr. X pulled a medium sized electronic device out from beside his chair and set it on the table. Pushing a button, it began to produce a noise much like the water in a shower would make. "It produces white noise to mask out audio recording as well as a jamming signal at the 850 to 1,900 MHz bands for electronic devices," X said to the unasked questions from the group.

Mr. Y began the briefing. He revealed they found that for several years before the Med deployment, while Jen was starting her traveling portrait practice, she had met and was seduced by Carlos Signore. Signore introduced her to all the old money families, the ones who could afford and appreciate the kind of work she did. He also introduced her to his wife Morgana and his friends and relations in Canada. Jen's position as Carlos' mistress was accepted by the old-world culture maintained by this élite upper crust.

Worse, was that during the ramp up to the Med deployment, Carlos had impregnated Jen. Isabel was not premature, Jen had lied about the conception date.

Crushing any love that may have survived so far was the information that during the deployment, Jen had moved Carlos into their house as a substitute husband and father. In fact, the night he came home on leave, he would have caught the two adulterers in his bed sleeping if he had not called Jen from the hospital. Carlos had barely made his escape into the night and Jen had just had time to strip the bed before Joe came through the front door.

The cruelest blow, however, was that after he left to go back to Saipan, Jen had Carlos move into his house yet again. That this elitist Piece of Shit (POS) had raised his son for almost two years while Joe was off with the Fleet was too fucking much!

Ms. Z revealed she was a photo analyst who had been working on the photographs. She was looking at the details of the photos themselves; working out chronology and place setting. She had several questions that only Joe could answer but in the end, she had a very precise and provable timeline established for the photographs.

Joe was infuriated, he wanted to smash and kill anything in his reach. The betrayal and disrespect was almost too much. Things had been discovered and revealed that made him want to either vomit or commit murder. More than once, he thought about contacting Davies and demanding vengeance, but his friends read him and helped to calm him down when the information was bad.

+++++++

A week after the last group meeting, Joe was entering his house after work when Jen approached him as he was hanging up his coat. Jen explained that a Morgana Signore, the widow of the world-famous photographer, Carlos Signore, had contacted her to ask for her help in setting up a showing at the New York City Metropolitan Museum of Art. Morgana's husband had passed away recently and this was to be the first time his portfolio was to be shown in its entirety.

Joe pasted his best manikin-man, yes dear face on and asked a few aimless questions; enough to show he was listening to her but not enough to reveal that he already knew who Carlos fucking Signore was.

++++++

It was now almost November and Jen was spending more and more time working on the photo exhibit at the Met. There was Customs to clear, insurance policies to arrange; the logistics was enormous. Morgana Signore began to visit more and more often as the time for the exhibit approached. Joe noticed the two women on more than a few occasions would become weepy and cling to each other, breaking apart quickly if they thought Joe was going to appear. Izzy began to withdraw more, spending whole days in her room, avoiding both her mother and Morgana as much as possible.

One Saturday afternoon, after seeing his daughter hiding in her room yet again, Joe looked through his wallet for the slip of paper Davies had given him. Punching the numbers into his cell he hit send and waited for the call to connect.

"Yes, Joseph," said the voice answering the phone.

"I have decided on justice my friend. Justice is all I need. The fallout of anything else would destroy Izzy. She is barely holding it together as it is," Joe said.

"As you say," answered the voice and then the connection was terminated.

+++++++

"Jen," Joe said, "do you have a minute to discuss plans for Christmas?"

"Sure Honey,' Jen said as she wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, "It's not even Thanksgiving but it is never too soon to begin the holiday planning."

"I was thinking that with the Met showing being the second week in January, it would make sense if Mrs. Signore and your friends from Canada came down here before the Christmas travel rush. A quick train ride would get everyone here from Montreal and then again down to New York. We have more than enough rooms for folks to stay over," Joe put forth.

Jen was overjoyed! Having all of her family together under one roof and for the holidays was more than she could have hoped for. She threw her arms around Joe's neck and gave him the most passionate kiss she had placed on him in years. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," she said.

++++++

Robert Price was tired. He had been working 60 and 70-hour weeks trying to get his career off the ground. He was increasingly frustrated with how his life had been going and he desperately wished his father was someone he could turn to. He could never understand how his father let the things go on as they had and he finally had to leave home as soon as he could. Going off to college had been his escape and he never looked back. The thought of talking to his mother made his stomach hurt. So, he did what he had been doing for most of his life, he suppressed his emotions and tried to bury himself in work.

What did not help was his mother calling a few months earlier with the news that "Uncle Carlos" had died. She and his sister were going to the funeral in Canada and wanted him to go with them. Trying not to scream while also trying not to vomit, Robert told his mother in no uncertain terms that he could not and would not be party to her and his father's lifestyle anymore and did not want to go to any funerals. His mother had berated him for nearly an hour before he was able to end the conversation and hang up the phone.

In this mindset, he was just returning to his living room from having gotten a beer from his refrigerator when he heard someone ringing his doorbell. Opening the door to find his father standing there was the final straw. "What do you want?" he sneered at his father.

"How long have you known," his father asked in a dead flat voice.

"Known what?" Robert asked.

"Known that your mother cheated on me?" Joe responded.

"What? Now after more than twenty years you ask me this? What the fuck! You let Mom fuck around with Carlos. Have his fucking kid for Christ's sake. You leave me alone with no one to talk to for all this time and NOW you ask me how long I've known. I have known since I was six fucking years old you piece of shit! You make me sick! FUCK OFF OLD MAN!" screamed Robert just before everything went black.

Robert started to awaken. He was laying on his back. He could see his open front door over the toes of his shoes. The side of his head hurt like hell and his vision on that side was not good. With a groan, he tried to get up but decided it was easier to simply roll over onto his side and get up onto his hands and knees. He lifted his head and saw his father sitting on his couch drinking his beer.

"You have one chance and one chance only, you little prick, to explain what you just said," his father whispered, "If I don't like it, you will not have to worry about me bothering you anymore. You say you are a man and can handle a man's job, well let's just say a whole heap of stinking man shit just landed on your plate and it's time to pony up with the truth."

It took several hours for Robert to get his story out. He could not look his father in the face and he kept breaking down.

Robert told his father about Carlos living in their house during his father's absence. How he took the place of his father; they went places and did things as a family; how they drove up into Canada for Thanksgiving and Christmas. How he played with all these children introduced as his "cousins" and how his "aunts" and "uncles" tried to make him feel welcome and at home. He told how Carlos went home to Canada after Joe returned from Bethesda but how his Mom and Izzy would go up there as often as they could, leaving him home with his Dad.

Finally, the story was told, the pain and misery that had clutched his heart for two decades was out. Joe left the couch where he had been sitting during the telling and wrapped his arms around his son; his son who had been tormented for almost his entire life by the evil and sickness that his mother had forced upon him. Robert clutched to his father. In the whispering voice of a little boy he said, "I'm sorry Daddy, I'm so sorry. Mommy told me, told us over and over again that we should not bring up anything about Carlos or Canada or anything. It was so hard. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and that is why I left for college and never came back."

"Shhhhhhhh, said Joe, cradling his son in his arms. "Shhhhhhhh. It's OK now. It's ok"

+++++++

Joe made it through Thanksgiving only by keeping to the plan. Robert was going to visit for the first time in years and he was looking forward to having time with his son without the elephant being in the room.

Christmas was almost upon them when Morgana and the rest began to filter into his house; he had stopped thinking of it as his home.

+++++++

It took a bit of work to arrange the logistics but it was all coming together. Jen was oblivious to anything going on around her as she prepared both for the exhibition at the Met as well as having Morgana and her lover's family in her house for Christmas for the first time since Joe came home from combat. Izzy was more withdrawn than usual but was at least helping Jen a bit after she got home from school. Robert, even, had agreed to come home for Christmas; the first time since he left for college that he would return. Joe continued to go to work and maintain a normal schedule.

++++++++

Joe looked up as the desk set rang the single ring of an inside call. "Engineering, Price here," he said.

"Joseph, I have information that you need to hear. It has to be face to face and you must be alone. Do not even tell the others about this call," said a familiar voice.

Joe looked at the handset, "John? How are you calling from an inside line?"

A short laugh answered his question, "Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies Joseph."

+++++++

"Joseph, What I need to tell you is very, very bad. In fact, when I came across it, I was tempted to ignore your request and exact punishment on my own. In Signore's collection there are a goodly number of photographs of your daughter, Isabel. There are the typical growing up shots as well as the birthdays and holidays type things," John relayed.

"OK," said Joe, "that sounds normal especially if those people saw Izzy as Carlos' daughter and Jen as his honorable mistress."

"Joe, there is a collection that seems to have started when Izzy was around six or seven. They continue up until the present. They go beyond the "little child playing in the water sprinkler without their clothes on" shots. Joseph, the photographs meet the test for child pornography. If they were discovered on someone's computer, there are Federal Laws that could be invoked."

Joe threw up on the table and fell to the floor. Davies waved off the waitress and pulled Joe into the Men's Room. Propping him up against the sinks, Davies gently cleaned Joe's face. "Easy Joseph, easy," Davies crooned as if to a young child, "If the Old Man's plan doesn't work, I guarantee you that they will not escape destruction."

Joe, gripped his shipmate's shoulders and looked into his eyes. What he saw was cold dead certainty that what Davies had just spoken was not a promise, it was a fact. With that, Joe relaxed and let Davies lead him out into the Diner.

Davies paid the bill, tipping the young waitress an exorbitant amount as way of apology for the mess and got Joe out to his car. Watching Joe drive off, Davies stepped into the snowy gloom and disappeared as if he were a wraith.

+++++++

Christmas and New Years were a tedious and stressful time for Joe Price. He drank. He visited with old friends. He went into the office for no reason. But the thing that got him through was that he and his son spent time together! God, it was great. They found things from Robert's childhood they thought they had lost.

Jen, Morgana and the rest had teas and fetes and parties. They talked about politics and world events; in essence, they mocked and derided everything Joe held dear and saw as his moral compass. They denigrated the military and felt no remorse in snarking about Joe's time in the Navy. He was truly shocked to find that his own wife was parroting these slanders as well. After his first few rebuttals and arguments, Joe realized that he was endangering his plans if he pissed off Jen and her group by calling them out on their "world views." If they left his house, all was for naught. He spent more time with a drink in his hand and his butt in his home office chair listening to Johnny Cash on his earphones, especially his favorite from that artist: Hurt.

He met with Bedford's group and kept his cool. He was playing a long game and it was for not just a win but a terrible retribution against these one-world elitist shits who had destroyed his marriage and his life.

+++++++

It was early January in New York. The slushy snow was piled up here and there and a cold bitter wind swept around the edges of the tall building. It was the main studio and Head Quarters for one of the major broadcast TV networks. The nondescript white van pulled to the curb near the loading dock for the studio. Two men got out and went to the delivery man door and rang the bell. Four men got out of the rear of the van and pulled three large portfolios from the cargo area. Each portfolio was carried by a man and the fourth seemed to stand guard over the assembly.

+++++++

Theodore "Ted" Ambecrombe was running the "board" for the "Good Morning New York" show. It was going to be good. The producer had managed to bag the reveal of a previously unknown Carlos Signore photo collection. There was a lot of bustling on the stage as things were set up for today's show.

The guards, that is what they obviously were, watching over the photos had dispersed once the stage was set. Two of the men had asked if they could watch the show from the production booth. After giving assurance they would stay well out of the way, they were allowed to be in "control central" to watch all the behind-the-scenes stuff that makes a national broadcast work.

+++

MC1 Anthony Lucia leaned over to whisper into Ted's ear, "That is a Panther video board you are working there and I can drive it as well as you do. If the over the air signal I am seeing on my smartphone moves away from the set, Gunnery Sargent Gomez over there will restrain you with extreme prejudice and I will assume control of the broadcast. Understand?"

Ted rotated his head around to look at one of the Security Guards who had come into the studio with the exhibit photographs. The man was holding his sports coat open to reveal a black and tan handgun in a shoulder holster.

With a gulp, Ted returned his attention to his board and hoped to hell that no one in the upper offices sent a "cut away" direction during the next piece.

+++++++

"Good morning folks. I am Kevin Kraft and this is "Good Morning New York." As I promised before the break, we are now going to have a special treat. As you may or may not know, the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art is staging an exclusive showing of the amazing photographer Carlos Signore's catalog. I am happy to announce that "Good Morning New York" has been selected as the exclusive vehicle for the first public display of a previously unknown Signore photo series. Here to explain everything is the proud owner of the series, Mr. Joseph Price."

"Hi Kevin," Joe said as he shook hands with the on-air personality, I am just the owner of these works. Mr. Cohen here will do the actual unveiling."

Kevin quickly recovered and turned his trademark megawatt smile towards the old man Price had pointed out. "Mr. Cohen!"

"Kevin, please let me introduce first Mr. Gregory Rockmanski. Gregory is an art expert who specializes in photography. He has been retained to authenticate these photographs. Mr. Rockmanski."