The Prosecution of General Hastings

CHAPTER THIRTY

  Bobby Lawson and Harry Kincaid were seated at a large round table in the bar of the Cattlemen’s Club when Sally and Annie arrived. The guys stood and watched as the two sisters approached their table.

  Bobby leaned over to Harry and said, “Hmm. Too bad Sally is married.”

  Harry looked back at his friend and said, “I hate to admit it. But I was thinking the same thing.”

  Annie walked around the table to Bobby and gave him a kiss. “Whatcha drinkin’, Flyboy?” she asked.

  “Club soda with a lime squeeze,” he replied with a disappointed smirk.

  “Good answer,” she said. “Daddy always said, ‘Eight hours, bottle to throttle.’”

  “Yup, that’s right. Old aviators’ rule. Kincaid’s not flying though,” Bobby remarked.

  “Let me guess,” Annie said to Harry. “Double Dewars on the rocks?”

  He smiled, “You got it.”

  They all sat with Sally and Annie leaving a vacant seat between them, and began idle chit chat. Five minutes passed. Then, Bobby looked past the ladies. “Here comes an Army officer that looks like he might belong to you, Sally.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Tom Stillwell walked directly to their table. “Good evening, everyone,” he said. He leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek. “And a special good evening to you, my dear.”

  Sally smiled, always glad to see her husband. Annie stood up and gave Tom an affectionate hug. “Hello big brother,” she said. Then she turned to introduce him to Bobby and Harry. Tom looked at the two men, carefully sizing them up.

  “Good evening, Colonel,” the two said, almost in unison.

  “My name is Tom, guys,” he said. “Welcome to snowy Oklahoma. Has Sally taken good care of you?” he asked.

  “The best,” said Harry. “She even drove me up to Stillwater this afternoon.”

  “Oh, yeah. Mesquite Manufacturing?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah,” Harry answered.

  Sally looked at her husband. “Their pistol is pretty unique, Tom,” she said. “Made of composite with ceramic inner workings.”

  “Is it a revolver?” asked Annie.

  “No,” answered Sally. “It’s a semi-automatic like a Glock or Beretta.”

  Bobby chuckled. “These girls know their firearms, don’t they?”

  Tom answered, “Yeah. You can thank Wild Bill Wilcox for that. They can shoot, too.”

  “No kidding,” Bobby said. “Annie blew me away shooting skeet a few months ago.”

  They all shared a laugh as Manuel, their waiter approached. Harry spoke up, “What’s your pleasure, Ladies? Colonel? Our treat.”

  The ladies ordered a glass of Chardonnay. “I’ll have my usual, Manny,” said Tom.

  “Two Chardonnays and a PBR,” Manny replied. “Coming right up.”

  The group enjoyed their beverages and later moved into the dining room. Bobby, Harry and Tom discussed Tom’s current assignment and played the game of ‘Did you ever know a guy named…’ which always occurred when present and former service members met. They spoke of various units in which they had served and, since all had served in the war on terror, they compared notes on that.

  Sally and Annie loved chatting about their legal careers which were so different. Sally was a trial lawyer and Annie was a clerk for a Supreme Court Justice. Both were attorneys, but their daily activities were vastly different. Annie always enjoyed learning about Sally’s adventures in the courtroom; and Sally always enjoyed Annie’s tales of the high court.

  Dinner conversation was lively and enjoyable. It was Sally who brought up the inevitable. “It’s after eight o’clock. And if you guys are flying back to D.C., you might want to get going. Wish you could stay longer,” she said.

  “Yeah,” said Bobby. “Our flight has gotten a bit longer, so I guess we’d better head out.”

  “Longer?” asked Annie.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got to drop Mr. Kincaid here off in Tucson before heading back to D.C. But, you can sleep all you want.”

  “Tucson?” Annie exclaimed. “What on earth for?”

  Sally looked knowingly at Harry, who winked back at her. “We’re in the import-export business, Annie. You know that,” he chided.

  When they parted down in the motor lobby leading to the parking garage, Sally tugged on Harry’s sleeve and pulled him away from the group. “It seems that I know a bit more about your business than my little sister does, Harry.”

  “Well, you don’t have to tell everything you know, Sally,” he said.

  She squeezed his arm and said quietly, “Be careful. Just be careful.”

  “Always.”