by Tapestri
Sighing, he started the car wondering if he was going to remember how to drive on the 'wrong' side of the road.
The estate had been turned into a museum. Garrison stood outside, gazing over the buildings.
"Lot of memories here."
Although he hadn't known anyone was there, Craig was not surprised at the voice coming from behind him.
"Yes. A lot of memories." He turned and saw Casino leaning against the corner.
"About all the tour guides know is that a bunch of Americans were doing something here to help defeat the Jerries." Casino chuckled and gestured towards the statues. "I can just imagine the Sergeant-Major as a tour guide, giving an explanation of what we did with those. I wonder why they didn't fix 'em."
"Guess they figured it added to the character of the place," Garrison grinned. "Did you drive up?"
"Nah. I walked up from the village." Casino threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his foot. "Took a lot longer than it used to."
Garrison smiled again and turned back to his car. "Well, why don't you hop in and we'll see who else has turned up."
From the outside The Doves had changed considerably. It was now a part of a grouping that included a restaurant and a small hotel. One couldn't quite tell whether it was one building or several.
They entered the door proclaiming The Doves. Almost immediately to the right was a door leading to the bar they had seen from outside. Casino led the way past that, as well as the door further down on the left that led to the restaurant. There was another doorway, not as well lit. As they entered, Garrison paused to let his eyes adjust.
The room looked much as he remembered the original. With the addition of many photos and souvenirs from the war. Someone was working behind the bar with his back to the room, but he turned as Garrison followed Casino down the steps.
"Hey Warden! What d'ya think?"
"I think it's great. But what are you doing behind the bar? I thought you owned this joint."
"Yeah, well, I let everyone know this room was reserved for a private party tonight."
They shook hands.
"With you being so successful, maybe I should be calling you Rodney now, or even Mr. .."
He was interrupted by a voice behind him.
"Tonight's a night for the old names Warden. Tonight is for the past."
It was Chief gliding into the room. He shared a long look and a firm handshake with Garrison.
"I wasn't sure you were going to be able to make it."
Chief shrugged, "We got that problem worked out quicker than I'd thought."
"Chiefy was actually the first one here."
"Not that we've seen much of him. He still keeps disappearing on us," Casino added with a grin.
"Hey. Ain't you blokes hungry? I'm starving."
"Some things will never change."
"Well, hey, Actor, you made it. We thought you were all tangled up in red tape."
"Fortunately Casino, I am very good at untangling things."
With everyone finally there, Goniff quickly assumed the role of host. "I'll go get us some menus."
They took the table in the corner and Goniff was quickly back, along with a waitress who took their requests for drinks and then returned to the restaurant side. They did a bit of ribbing of each other as they made their decisions.
Having made his decision, Garrison laid his menu aside and took a moment to look around at the others.
They were all together again. For the first time in twenty years he was back with his men. That was the way he still thought or them. They had started off being a responsibility that he wasn't sure he wanted.
In time they had become a team he could count on.
In the end they had become friends.
They had proven themselves on the missions. Repeatedly. And the army had finally recognized that. Instead of the paroles they had been promised, they'd each received full pardons, and they had been listed as honorably discharged from the army.
Looking at them, Craig was amazed at how little any of them had actually changed. Sure there were gray hairs and wrinkles. That was to be expected. Casino had added some weight, just as he had himself, while both Goniff and Chief were leaner than ever. Actor had aged the most. But then he started out older. The age just made him more distinguished.
He still would have recognized them anywhere.
It was the changes they'd made in their lives. What they had accomplished since the war. That was where they had changed the most.
Goniff signaled the waitress that they were ready, and she brought their drinks over, and took note of their dinner selections. As she left, they all watched her appreciatively.
"So Goniff. Who does the hiring around here?" Actor wanted to know with his eyes still on the young woman.
"Well mate, I do a fair bit of the hiring myself," he replied rather smugly.
"Well I gotta admire your taste baby," Casino commented, shaking his head.
"So, tell me Goniff, how did you manage to do all this," Garrison gestured at their surroundings. "I never did hear the whole story."
"Well, you remember me mum and her newsstand . . ."
"And her bookmaking," Casino added, and then laughed when Goniff shot him a look.
Still staring at Casino, Goniff continued, "well some o' them blokes were quite willin' to lend a hand, and . . ."
Goniff had spent some time helping his mum out with the newsstand and picking up odd jobs from her customers who had legitimate businesses.
One of these businesses was a family run restaurant. Goniff figured that if he worked there, he'd be sure to be well fed. As he told his mother, "Ya know, I played waiter often enough during the war. Oughta let that pay off for me now."
Since it was such a small restaurant, everyone pitched in on all the jobs. Goniff found that he had a definite talent for making the customers feel welcome and comfortable. He would also take the odd moment to show off some sleight of hand for the amusement of everyone there. "Just to keep in practice."
After seeing this several times, one of the regular customers commented, "You're really quite good at that."
Goniff looked at him warily.
"My son's birthday is coming up. How would you feel about doing some tricks for the party.
Surprised, Goniff took a moment before replying, "Sure mate. Be glad ta."
After work that night, he bought some props and started working on a routine.
The party was a great success and soon others were hiring Goniff to entertain at their parties as well.
He would usually find a way to work any appealing objects that were laying around into the act.
It felt good to have a legitimate excuse for his 'sticky fingers'.
Soon, between the two of them, he and his mother were bringing in enough money to take a comfortable apartment, and also set some money aside. This they invested with the help of more of his mum's friends.
When they had enough set aside, they bought a restaurant of their own.
"Before ya know it, we was running a good profit on it
"When I came back 'ere five years ago, I saw what they was up to. Tearing ev'rythin' down, 'n I couldn't let that 'appen. So I turned the New York business over to the manager and bought this property. Built it up bit by bit. Now I 'ave all this." He looked around with well deserved pride. A restaurant, two pubs and a small hotel, all of which were very popular. Quite an accomplishment.
"And you still have sticky fingers," Casino laughed.
"I always return what I take." Goniff put on a pretense of injured pride.
Just then the waitress brought their dinners.
For a few moments they gave all their attention to the delicious food they had been served.
"Goniff, this is exquisite. Please tell your chef and the kitchen staff that their efforts compare favorably to the best on the continent."
"Sure beats anything we had on the missions or back at the estate."
"Casino, there is no need even mention that in comparison to this," he affected a shudder. "In fact, I would not to think of those meals at all."
Actor did find his thoughts going back to one of his last days in England. However, not to any of their meals.
He'd been looking around the estate, thinking that soon the army would be returning the building and its contents to those who had so graciously allowed the use of it.
His touch on the books, paintings, vases and other treasures had been respectful. Such a wealth of history and talent.
He'd thought of all the museums he'd seen destroyed. All the art work also destroyed or stolen. The loss of those treasures would be felt deeply as countries and individuals began to rebuild.
He'd wondered how many of those treasures would ever be restored.
Once the army released him, he'd found himself drawn back to the continent. So much of what he had known was gone. Destroyed by the war. As he looked at the people he could see many whose spirits had been broken, or merely worn down, by the war.
But there were the others. The ones who refused to be beaten. The ones who were determined to rebuild.
It was one of these men that Actor had met in a cafe one day. As they talked, Actor learned that his new friend was trying to retrieve a painting the Germans had stolen. Without really stopping to think about what he was doing, Actor had come up with a con to get it back.
Soon after that he was approached by another man as he was looking at some ruins.
"Sad, isn't it?"
"Yes. Very sad. So much was lost in this war."
"Much is lost in any war. And at times, much is also found. And you were able to just recently help one find something that had been lost.
Actor turned to look at him more fully.
"And it's not just the painting I'm talking about. You were able to give him back both his past and his future. For himself and his family."
"There is much more of that to be done," he countinued. Countries who need that as well as people. A man of your talents could find many ways to help."
"A man of my talents?"
The other man smiled. "I know who you are Actor. I know your history. I also know what you were doing during the war. We are ready to offer you another opportunity do what you are so good at, in a way that will benefit others."
"And just who is 'we'?"
" I represent a rather quiet part of the French government. A part that wants to see our treasures found and returned to us. We think that you are the man to take charge of this effort."
"And what would be in it for me?"
"Besides our appreciation, and the thrill of running the con?"
There was a moment of silence.
"We could put you on our payroll. Or each job could have its own fee. I'm also sure that we are not the only ones who would be interested in your assistance."
"Indeed? Well, I will think on it. How do I contact you?"
After receiving that information, Actor bid him farewell, and headed off. He already knew that he was going to accept their offer, but there were things he wanted to check out first.
He spoke with several acquaintances and learned there was indeed a desire, and even a need, to see things restored to those who had possessed them before the war. He also found some friends who were willing to help in this work. So, when he contacted the man with the offer, he already had the potential beginnings of a network.
As the years passed, there were many who came to respect his knowledge of art, jewels and security systems. He was frequently asked to give his opinion on all three. Often he was working with museums to safeguard their collections.
Eventually he began teaching others what he knew as well. But not everything he knew.
He was also very well paid for his services.
He maintained residences in several cities in Europe and the United States. There were also many homes where he would be welcome to stay, and he was always on the guest list of social events whether he was known to be in the area or not.
"Sounds like life's been treating you well," Casino said leaning back in his chair.
"Life has indeed been exceedingly pleasant. And how has it been for you, Casino?"
"Life's been good, baby. Life's been real good."
Once back in New York, it didn't take Casino long to realize that he wouldn't be able to stay there and keep away from the old ways.
In Philadelphia he'd met up with an old friend who owned a car dealership. He'd offered Casino a position, with the provision that he learn every part of the business. Agreeing, he approached the job with a surprising amount of eagerness. Casino proved to be a good salesman and as an excellent manager as well as a decent mechanic.
Just about the time he'd gone to see Chief, he'd been realizing that if he was really interested in doing this business right, there were things he needed to know. As the two talked over beers, Casino casually commented, " Ya know, Bill's been talkin' to me about night school."
Chief looked over at him and waited. When Casino didn't continue he asked, "And you don't like the idea?"
"Me? In school? C'mon."
"Depends on what you want man."
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it." Casino sighed. He looked at nothing for a moment and then back at Chief, and shrugging said, "Might as well give it a try."
Surprising some of the instructors, he managed to pass all of the classes he took, and was soon using what he learned.
One day, Casino suggested that they use a portion of the lot to sell used cars that their customers could trade in. After some consideration, the idea was approved and Casino was put in charge. It would be up to him to see that it succeeded.
Five years later he owned his own used car lot and was a respected businessman in the community. He had since then added two more dealerships.
"And that's it for me baby. Three's the limit of what I can keep my eye on. I've got a reputation to maintain."
"Good deals, huh?"
"Good deals and good cars. I hire top mechanics to check out the cars. And I bring on bunches of the high school kids. They get to make some money and learn something, and maybe stay out of trouble. And I get well tuned cars to sell."
He smiled smugly.
"And you also teach at one of those high schools."
Casino shrugged. "Yeah. Auto shop."
"And maybe, how to make good choices?"
"Like you're not?"
Chief just grinned and Garrison turned to him, "You gonna tell us what happened with that case?"
"Once the judge heard the arguments, he threw the case out."
Chief had decided to use the GI Bill to go to college. The first year he took a variety of courses, testing his abilities. And his welcome.
Although there were some who were always eager to taunt him, or try to get him into a fight, there were others who accepted him. Many of those were also veterans there on the GI Bill. While looking for a place to stay, he'd encountered one of the men they'd rescued from a POW camp and was quickly welcomed into his group of friends.
He found that he was drawn to the psychology classes and did well in them, eventually making them his focus, and graduating in the top ten percent of his class. Casino surprised him by showing up at his graduation, and they spent the night celebrating.
After that, Chief packed up his belongings, hopped on his motorcycle, and started traveling around the country. During the war he'd gotten to see bits of several countries, and now he wanted to see more of his own.
It was mid-August when he reached Carystown.
In the center of the town he'd found a place to stop his bike and look around the town. Seeing it was 12:30, he decided to find a place for lunch.
At 1:30 he entered the high school office and gave his name to the secretary. A moment later the door of the Principal's office opened. The man who came out looked to be only a few years older than Chief himself.
"You're right on time. Good. I'm Peter Wells, Principal Wells. Come on in to my office and we'll do the paperwork. Then I'll show you to your office and give you a tour of the school. Professor Mills gave you quite a recommendation He and I both were impressed your honesty about your past."
"I figured it was better to be up front with it, than have it come up later."
"I did tell one other person. But only one. I knew our Sheriff would check into your background, so I gave him what I knew."
He had stiffened at the word sheriff, and then forced himself to relax, realizing that he could make things more difficult for himself by being defensive.
"Here's your office."
As they entered Chief realized there was someone already in the room even before he saw him. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. There was an air of strength and assurance about him, and he was wearing a Sheriff's uniform.
"So, this is him."
The two men, strangers to each other, took a long moment to size one another up. Chief knew that this man could be either a powerful ally, or a deadly enemy. The Sheriff held his eyes for a long moment, then a grin split his face, and nodding, he held out his hand and Chief shared a firm handshake with him. "Matthew Faris. Pleased to meet you. I think you'll do. I think you'll make a good counselor for these kids."
With that he moved smoothly out of the office.
Chief turned back to the principal. "He just met me . .."
"He wanted to match you up with what he's read about you." He smiled. "He trusts what he sees in a person's eyes."
After Chief had time to look around his office, they continued the tour around the school.
"Have you thought about living arrangements?"
"Thought I'd look for a room or apartment."
"One of our newest teachers, Thomas Severn, is part of a local ranching family. There's room out there, and if you're interested, you could help out on the ranch for part of the board, although that's neither expected not necessary.'
Chief thought it over for a moment. "I'll check it out. Thank you."
Later, he did decide to try staying at the ranch. In time he found himself becoming part of the family.
As the years passed, Chief's counseling duties expanded to other schools in the area, as well as to working with the Sheriff's office and the courts.
He and Thomas started bringing some of the students out to the ranch. First just for a few hours or a day, but then for longer periods of time.
It was Sheriff Wells who suggested they actually develop a full program for teenagers in trouble. With a lot of thought and care, and by involving others in the community, they did so. Now they even had a small dormitory for the boys.
The court case that had almost delayed Chief had concerned the latest boy they had hoped to bring in.
"They thought he was too tough for us." Chief smiled lightly. "the funny thing is, it wasn't our community that thought so. They stood behind us as usual.
"It was the county the kid was from. They'd given up on him. they were determined to put him away." He pressed his lips tightly together as he thought about that.
"But you think differently."
"I know differently. I looked into his eyes. He'll have another chance."
He met Garrison's eyes as they silently acknowledged the chance they had all been given twenty years ago.
"Say Warden. You gonna let us in on your latest case?"
"Yeah, you been peeking into any bedroom windows?"
It had been a surprisingly easy decision to finally retire from the army. even though it had been a very rewarding career for him, both personally and professionally. His successes with Special Forces teams, starting with these men, had led to promotions and greater responsibilities. The frequency of those successes had led to his teams receiving the toughest assignments, as well as the expectation that he would be able to pull them off. And for the most part he had.
His reputation had also put him in a position where he was able to hand pick his teams. And as a trainer he had abundant opportunities to observe and assess the men. It was probably not surprising that some of those he found himself choosing were men that had been considered 'trouble' by others.
The paper work had begun to take over from field work, and he found himself more and more missing the challenge of solving problems on the spot, the adrenaline rush of making the plan work.
No, leaving the army hadn't been a tough decision.
It was deciding what to afterwards that had been hard.
Actor happened to be in town on the day his retirement became official, and they went out that night.
"Have you decided what you're going to do now?"
"I've been looking at several things." He looked across the table with a small smile. "Someone suggested that I join the police force . . ."
"Warden! You wouldn't!" He allowed such a look of shock to appear on his face that Craig laughed out loud.
"Don't worry. Could you really imagine me as a cop?"
"Quite frankly, no. I think you would find it very . . . constraining."
"I think you're right. It was easy to say no to that suggestion."
"That's good. I don't think the others would have been able to forgive you that."
"And what about you?"
"Me? Oh, well, you know me . . ." Actor waved a hand in the air vaguely.
"Yes. I do know you."
A pair of smiles acknowledged what remained unspoken.
After much consideration he had gotten a Private Investigators license. It was a field that fit his training and temperament. His connections with members of the military, both those still active and those retired, provided him with resources not available to just anyone. It also brought him cases that quickly raised his reputation and allowed him to pick which ones he would take.
That had been five years ago now, and his business was thriving and he had a well qualified staff to work with. He could trust them to take care of anything that came along while he was away.
One of his cases had involved a 14 year old runaway. The mother was very worried, but Garrison had been concerned about the lack of interest the father had shown in the boy's whereabouts. When he finally found the boy, he also learned what he had been running from. After several discussions with the mother, and some help from the well-placed friends of his, he'd gotten the boy placed in Chief's program. There, after a rough period of adjustment, he had thrived. Chief kept him updated regularly on his progress.
"Goniff, I'm not sure what the current case is. I'm letting my staff handle that. I'm on vacation. And no Casino, I haven't needed to look into any bedrooms lately."
Any retort that might have been made was prevented by the appearance of dessert.
"Oh man. Look at that."
"Goniff. You shouldn't have," Garrison said.
"That is a work of art," Actor observed.
Chief just laughed, and Goniff shrugged.
"The staff has heard me tell so many stories. . . They were the ones that came up with this."
What they had come up with was a cake in the shape of the estate. It was the frosting though that held everyone's attention. Clearly depicted were a map, a knife, a safe, a pipe and a shiny box.
Much laughter and discussion accompanied the cutting and eating of the cake. "Remember when. . ." was followed by "What about the time. . .", and by "I wonder what happened to . . ." And on and on, into the night and the early hours of the morning. Stories that were just stories to those who hadn't been there, were relived by the five of them together once more.
The End
