Two Jakes by Lawrence de Maria Page B

educating her ever-growing brood of children.
    A
track star in school, Keitel immediately distinguished himself as a non-commissioned
officer and eventually wound up in Germany’s elite KSK, or "Special Power
Commando" battalion, the equivalent of the British SAS. He participated in
several secret combat operations, often with allied units.
    Keitel
stopped reading. He watched a small lizard feasting on ants. It was
fascinating. The lizard, a dark green anole, was perched on the bottom rung of
the umbrella table next to Keitel’s chaise. The ants were trying to navigate a
no-man’s-land between the pool and the small flower garden bordering the lanai.
The ants often stopped in patches of dappled shade caused by the leaves of
nearby plants. Some even paused near drops of water that had sprayed from
Keitel’s body after his frequent cooling-down swims. Were they drinking? Or
just made momentarily cautious by the change in their almost microscopic
environment? The tiny reptile stayed motionless, but for its bobbing head,
until an ant wandered into the killing ground. Keitel estimated that the
distance between the lizard’s ambush site and the ant trail was three feet.
Once the anole targeted an ant it was over in seconds. A few lucky ants veered
away under Keitel’s chaise before the lizard pounced. Their good fortune
annoyed Keitel and he finished them with a finger. The only other part of his
body that moved was his head, moving up and down in rhythm with that of the
lizard.
    ***
    Garza
dropped his bag on the kitchen counter and grabbed a Dos Equis from the
refrigerator. Kicking off his shoes he padded silently out to the pool.
    “Christian,
I believe you have finally gone around the bend.”
    “Be
quiet. Don’t frighten him. It’s almost in his kill zone.”
    Garza
ignored him and sat down in a chair next to the table. That was too much for
the anole, which shot into the garden.
    “Thank
you very much.”
    “Just
what are you doing?” Garza was exasperated.
    Keitel
told him.
    “I
know this is Naples, Christian, but aren’t you a bit young for a retirement
home?”
    “Show
some respect. We are amateurs compared to that little assassin. Look at how far
he had to traverse. It would be like one of us running a city block for a bite
and back again in ten seconds.”
    “Remarkable.
But I prefer our diet, no? Which reminds me, I am hungry. Get dressed. Let’s go
out for dinner. I will tell you how it went in Seattle.”
    “Let’s
try that seafood place on Third Street,” Keitel said, springing up.
    “Good
God, no! It will be some time before I can look a fish in the eye again. I want
French food. You can satiate your blood lust by stalking a snail. By the way,
what are you doing home? I thought you had jury duty again.”
    “I
did. Criminal trial. A redneck pederast from Everglades City who raped a little
Hispanic boy in Immokalee.”
    Garza
lit a cigarette as they walked into the house.
    “I
remember the story. As if those poor people out there don’t have enough
trouble. What happened?”
    “The
guy pleaded out before it went to the jury. Lucky for him. We were ready to
kill the bastard ourselves.”
    “Don’t
worry; it’s a death sentence for him. They don’t mess around with that kind of
scum down here. The cons at Raiford will deal with it. But tell me, Christian,
what do you say in court when they ask about your occupation? I’ve always
wondered.”
    “Pest
Control Specialist.”
    They
both laughed.

CHAPTER
10 – AN ADORING PRESS
     
    “Watch
your ass in Miami,” Dudley Mack said as he drove Scarne to catch the 7 A.M.
ferry to Manhattan Monday morning. “It’s a rough town, despite all the Chamber
of Commerce bullshit. Third world. If you get jammed up, I know people who owe
me down there. Big time”
    “I’m
sure you do. Some of them may even be out on bail. If I spot anybody following
me wearing a ski cap, I’ll call 911.”
    “Anybody
ever tell you you’re an asshole?”
    “You,
all