Collective Identity Read online

  Collective Identity

  Book IV of the Commitment Series

  By

  Karen D. Badger

  BADGER BLISS BOOKS

  DEDICATION

  Here is the recipe for a family:

  Infinite humor

  A ton of tolerance

  Unlimited patience

  Unconditional love

  Boundless determination

  Unwavering commitment

  The ability to forgive

  The ability to accept

  A little sugar

  A little spice

  Mix well and simmer for 6 or 7 decades. Serve warm. Enjoy.

  ~~~~~~~~

  We all have families we are born into, but for whatever reason, we sometimes become separated from them and form families of our own, unrelated by blood, but families nonetheless. Family is all about belonging to someone. Sometimes we are born into families, and sometimes our families come to us through other means. Shared DNA is not a requirement for a strong and loving family. All you need is a commitment and the willingness to enrich the life of someone you love. All families are important. All families are valid. All families are good.

  This book is dedicated to all the families in the world, regardless of tradition, color, creed, ability, orientation, or how you came to be.

  In the words of The Captain and Tennille (and Neil Sedaka)…… “Love will keep us together.”

  ALSO WRITTEN BY KAREN D. BADGER AND

  AVAILABLE FROM BADGER BLISS BOOKS:

  ON A WING AND A PRAYER

  YESTERDAY ONCE MORE

  IN A FAMILY WAY

  UNCHAINED MEMORIES

  HAPPY CAMPERS

  THE BLUE FEATHER

  www.karendbadger.wix.com/badgerblissbooks

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either

  products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  COLLECTIVE IDENTITY - BOOK IV OF THE COMMITMENT SERIES

  Copyright © 2015 by Karen D. Badger

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any

  manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher,

  save for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover design by: Karen D. Badger

  A Badger Bliss Book

  Published by Badger Bliss Books

  Georgia, VT 05468

  www.karendbadger.wix.com/badgerblissbooks

  ISBN 13: 978-1507689066

  ISBN 10: 1507689063

  First Edition, January, 2015

  Printed in the United States of America and in the United Kingdom

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As usual, my beta readers provide an invaluable service. They find my mistakes, express their opinions about my characters and plot, and help me to improve my skills as a writer. I'd like to express my extreme gratitude to my wife, Bliss, my mom, Ellie Atherton and my very good friends, Donna Brown and Carol Poynor, for your hard work and for being forthright and honest in your opinions and feedback. You guys rock!

  Many thanks to my editor Nat Burns for helping me to make this book as good as it can be. Thank you for being there for me and for doing such a marvelous job with the edits, my friend.

  Finally, many thanks to my family and friends for their unwavering support. You give me the confidence to move forward with my stories… not to mention providing me with lots of fodder for new plot lines! This particular series is about family… about how families come in many varieties… and about how family is not limited by blood relations. Thank you all for being a part of mine.

  SPECIAL NOTE: I'd like to thank Iliana Martin, dear friend and author of the beautiful poem, Come, Take My Hand. Iliana, you are truly a talented writer. Please continue to share your talent with us, my friend. Love you muchly! SA :-)

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part I - At Loose Ends

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Part II - On Solid Ground

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Karen D. Badger

  Coming in 2015

  Prologue

  American Embassy

  Saigon

  1960

  "I'm telling you, General, with a little luck, I can break this code."

  Josephine Wycliffe paced back and forth in front of her commanding officer, her worn fedora shoved down low over her brow.

  General Stanza crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And just how to do you propose to do that, Miss Wycliffe?" he asked.

  "You leave that up to me. All I need is someone proficient in the Vietnamese language and I guarantee I can do it."

  * * *

  Jo leaned her backside against the table at the far end of the room, her arms crossed, as she waited for the General to arrive with her linguist in tow. Her worn beaver-pelt fedora sat squarely on her head, the brim tilted slightly forward. A lit stogie hung from the corner of her mouth. Her legs were crossed at the ankles.

  When the door opened, she stood up, legs splayed apart and hands on her hips, holding the edges of her leather bomber jacket open. She intended to let this new person know who was in charge right from the start as she clamped down on the stogie and narrowed her eyes. All was for naught as her jaw went slack and the stogie fell to the floor.

  Josephine Wycliffe was totally unprepared for the arrival of Alexandra Spirakis.

  Miss Spirakis was head and shoulders above her in height. Her slim frame sported a smart business suit with a calf-length, form-hugging skirt and short jacket, highlighted with white piping and a rounded Peter Pan collar which was buttoned clear to the top and decorated with a cameo brooch. The small hat adorning her head, and white kid-gloved hands clutching a small purse, reminded Josephine of church-lady attire. She wore moderate heels, which accentuated her already lofty frame, and enhanced the obvious height difference between the two women.

  Despite the fact that Spirakis' demeanor screamed prim and proper Southern Belle, Jo was captivated.

  Holy Shit! Does this woman know how beautiful she is? Josephine thought to herself. Damn! I'm going to cream myself just looking into those eyes! Wycliffe, you dog… that's one mountain I'm looking forward to climbing!

  Lecherous thoughts aside, Jo was totally taken with the crystal blue eyes hiding behind cat-eye glasses, and her creamy complexion accented by ruby-red lipstick. And then there was the jet black hair pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. As unprepared as she was for Miss Spirakis' appearance, she was caught totally off guard when she heard her speak.

  "Ah, Miss Wycliffe, I do believe you dropped your cigar on the floor."

  Jo's eyes opened wide as a heavily accented Southern voice floated melodiously from the linguist's lips to her ears. She especially liked the way she said 'cee-gar.' All Jo could do was stare.

  "Miss Wycliffe, are ya all right?"

  Jo suddenly came back to her senses and frowned. She pushed
her hat further onto her head. She crushed the cigar under her worn leather boot and extended her hand to Alex without looking directly at her. "Josephine Wycliffe. Nice to make your acquaintance. You can call me Jo."

  Miss Spirakis took her hand and tilted her head forward in an attempt to meet Jo's eyes. "Well the feeling is mutual, Miss Wycliffe, but I think I will call you Josie. Jo just sounds to… well, too mannish. It just doesn't feel proper-like to call you Jo. I'm Alexandra Spirakis. Alex is fine."

  Jo released her hand and cleared her throat. "Call me what you'd like. What's important here is the job at hand. I trust you are qualified?" she asked gruffly.

  Alex raised her eyebrows. "I do declare, you do speak your mind, Miss Wycliffe."

  "Jo," Josephine interrupted.

  "Yes. I assure you, Josie, I am more than qualified. Now if you'll direct me to the powder room, I'll take care of business, then we can get to work."

  The General, who had been watching the exchange, interjected. "Go back out the door… down the hall to the right."

  Alex excused herself and left the room.

  "What the hell were you thinking?" Jo resounded. "How am I supposed to get any work done with her around?"

  General Stanza chuckled. "Don't under estimate her, Wycliffe. She comes highly recommended. If I'm right, she'll give you a run for your money… in more ways than one."

  * * *

  "Oh, my!" Alex said out loud as she leaned against the bathroom wall. Her heart was beating a mile a minute after her first encounter with Josephine Wycliffe.

  She pressed one hand against her heart, feeling it thump through her clothing.

  Land sakes, what is wrong with me? she thought. I've only just met the woman. It's like I was struck by lightning or something. I don't know if I can do this.

  Alex composed herself and checked her reflection the mirror to see if every hair was in place. She flushed the toilet to feign her reason for escaping to the powder room then smoothed the front of her jacket before opening the door.

  Jo was alone in the room. Anxiety gripped Alex's stomach as she steeled herself before joining her.

  Jo removed a new stogie from between her teeth and spit a small amount of tobacco onto the floor. "Everything come out okay?" she chuckled.

  Alex paused, not really knowing how to deal with this brazen woman. "My word, are you always like this?" she asked.

  "Like what?"

  "So bold and brash."

  Jo clamped the cigar between her teeth once more and approached Alex with her hands on her hips. "Get used to it sweetheart. I am who I am," she said.

  "And must you smoke that thing? It's quite offensive."

  Jo narrowed her eyes into slits. "Don't be telling me what I can and can't do, Miss Spirakis. I'm not pretty when I'm angry."

  "Alexandra. My name is Alexandra, and if we are to work together, I think a little respect is warranted."

  "You get what you give, Al. Now we've got a job to do. I suggest we get started."

  * * *

  Two weeks later…

  "Damn! We're never going to break this code," Josephine complained as she stomped back and forth across the room. "I thought you were good at this stuff, Al."

  Alex stood bent over the table, studying an array of papers spread out before her. On them, was a series of dots, similar to Morse's code, but without the dashes. "There's something not quite right about this," Alex said. "I just can't put my finger on it."

  "Every day we fail to break this thing, our forces are dying in ambushes. I need a drink," Jo said.

  She poured herself a shot of whiskey from the bar in the corner of the room and downed it in one gulp. "Do you want anything?" she said over her shoulder to Alex.

  "A glass of wine would be nice."

  Jo poured the wine for Alex and another shot for herself and carried both drinks to the table. She handed the wine to Alex.

  "Thank you, Josie." Alex held the glass of wine in one hand, the other hand perched on her hip. "I'm missing something here. Could you play the recording back one more time?"

  "For Christ's sake, Al, what good is that going to do? You've reviewed that damned tape a thousand times already. I, for one, am getting sick of listening to it."

  "Josephine Wycliffe, I was hired to do a job and I'll not quit until that job is done. Now if you don't want to listen to it again, I suggest you turn in for the night so I can get back to work."

  Jo grabbed her bomber jacket then tossed down her shot of whiskey, slamming the shot glass on the table. "Suit yourself. I'll see you in the morning."

  * * *

  Alex watched Joe as she slammed the door on the way out. She took a deep breath and struggled to retain her composure.

  Josephine Wycliffe, if I weren't such a lady, I'd show you just what I think about your Yankee, know-it-all attitude.

  Jo had been alternating between trying to intimidate Alex and trying to seduce her since the day she walked in. Alex decided she wouldn't succeed with either attempt if she kept behaving the way she was. A lady has standards, after all.

  Alex wiped the tear of frustration from the corner of her eye and rewound the cassette tape one more time. She pressed the 'play' button and picked up her pen and notepad, then sat down to listen. A series of taps and pauses echoed at sporadic intervals from the recording. She strained to listen but still struggled to make sense of the seemingly unrelated series of taps. Finally, she put the pen and paper on the table and closed her eyes, shutting out all visual sensory input so she could focus only on the sounds coming from the recording.

  Five minutes later, her eyes flew open. "Oh, my goodness!" Alex exclaimed. "It's not Vietnamese at all! It's English!"

  * * *

  "You woke me out of a sound sleep, Al. This had better be good," Jo complained when she charged into the briefing room.

  Alex sat hunched over a series of sketches spread out before her on the table. She had removed her jacket, revealing a long-sleeved white button-up blouse, tailored to fit her slim waist, only one shirt-tail was hanging out, the collar was open, revealing generous cleavage, and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Tendrils of long dark had hung at the sides of her face, having escaped the elastic holding the bun together at the nape of her neck.

  Jo stopped dead in the doorway and took in her disheveled attire. "Holy shit! What did you do with Al?" she asked while trying to repress the stirrings in her abdomen.

  Damn! She's even more beautiful all mussed up like that.

  Alex looked up and furrowed her brow behind the cat-eye glasses. "I beg ya pardon?"

  "Ah… nothing. So what's got your panties in a wad?"

  Alex pressed her palms into the tabletop. "Must you always talk that way, Josie? My panties happen to be just fine, thank you very much."

  Jo looked at the mess of papers on the table. "So what's this all about?"

  "I think I'm onto something here, Josie. We have been working so hard to come up with Vietnamese translations for these series of dashes, when all along, it's not even Vietnamese."

  "Then what the hell is it?"

  "It's English, American English… at least I think it's a variation on American."

  "What the hell are you talking about, woman?" Jo ranted as she paced back and forth. "Jesus-H-Christ. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that you were all looks and no brains."

  Alex stood tall and tilted her head back slightly while cocking an eyebrow at Jo. She placed her hands on her hips for emphasis.

  "For your information, Miss Wycliffe, I am fluent in several languages, while you just barely get by on rudimentary English. I resent the implication that I don't know what I'm talkin' about. I'm telling you, this code is American."

  Jo walked around the table and pushed Alex back into her chair. She leaned in so her face was close to Alex's. "Are you trying to tell me there's an American traitor working with the Viet Cong?"

  Alex sat back. "Heavens, no. That's not what I'm sayin' at all."

  Jo t
ook off her fedora and slammed it on the table. "Then damn it, Alex, what are you trying to tell me?"

  "If you'd lose that chip on your goddamned shoulder long enough to listen, I'd be happy to tell you!" Alex exclaimed. "Now see what you made me do? I cussed. I never cuss!"

  Jo held her hands up in front of Alex. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm ready to listen."

  She leaned her backside against the table and crossed her arms.

  "The series of taps on the recording appears to be random at first, but if you listen to it carefully, you'll notice a pattern… two series of taps, followed by a pause, then two more series of taps, another pause, and so on."

  "And your point is?" Jo said impatiently.

  "I believe this series of taps is based on a concept called Polybius Square, which originated in Ancient Greece."

  "So what's that got to do with the code being American?" Jo asked.

  "I called a friend of mine at the State Department last night and learned that prisoners of war who managed to escape the Viet Cong prison camps reported using a system of taps to communicate with other prisoners in the same compound. It apparently took on a life of its own and was used for virtually all communication between the prisoners. I can only surmise the Viet Cong eventually caught on to it."