Las VegasM
ike Stokey was skimming wind-blown leaves from his backyard pool when Linda brought him a phone. “It’s Shake,” she said, “and you won’t believe where he’s calling from.”
“I take it you’re not in Texas where you’re supposed to be.” Stokey took the phone into the shade and plopped down in a lawn chair. “Linda says I won’t believe it, so lay it on me.”
“I’m down at the Guantanamo Navy Base, Mike. Can’t give you much on this line, but suffice to say I’m doing a little job for a friend of ours that you know and love.”
“Oh, s**t. What’s he got you involved with now?”
“Details forthcoming soonest but I need you to lend a hand. Can you travel?”
“Depends, I guess—mostly on whether or not I can take Linda along. Ever since the deal in Beirut, she’s kind of addicted to our brand of f
