They had a couple of days before their flight to Ireland on October 4th. Back in their temporary housing, they enjoyed martinis while chatting about their free days.

“Do you have anything in mind for the weekend?” Rod said.

“We’ve been going all day, every day. How about we relax around here? Although we understand the mission's parameters, we don’t have a clue what we will encounter in Ireland. I want to enjoy this weekend with you.”

“I’m so glad,” Rod said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the Library of Congress. Or perhaps the Museum of American History at the Smithsonian, home of many historical musical instruments. I’ve been in D.C. a few times but have never seen either.”

“How about we rent a car and drive to the naval base at Annapolis?” Wyl said. “The Marines are a branch of the Navy. The naval base is historic. A good place to learn about the history of our branch of service, colonel.”

“I love your idea.” Rod nuzzled Wyl’s ear. “Since I’m a colonel, I should be more aware of Navy and Marine history. Do you think Travers would take us?”

Wyl shrugged and kissed Rod’s nose. “I’ll give him a call.”

* * *

They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on Saturday morning before showering and dressing. Travers arrived at 10:00, and they climbed into the back seat to be chauffeured to the Naval base at Annapolis.

“General Steinburg alerted the base to your visit,” Travers said. “They’ll have a guide waiting to escort you through the compound.”

“Thanks, Travers,” Wyl said. “We kinda hoped for something under-the-radar, but we’re happy for someone to show us around.”

“Yes, sir.  The general mentioned he's sending you on a mission. No details, of course. You two are celebrities.”

Wyl and Rod glanced at each other, mouths open. “Wait a minute. You know of our mission, Travers. We’re a couple of rancher dudes going to Ireland. What makes us celebrities?”

“General Steinburg,” Travers said. “And you’re not only a couple of rancher dudes but also high-ranking gay Marines. Many of us idolize you.”

“Travers, what are you saying?” Wyl received an elbow from a grinning Rod for being coy.

“Sir, remember what I said the first day I took you back to your hotel from the Pentagon? I said you’re an inspiration. Many Marines envy you for your guts and openness.”

“Travers, I didn’t have guts and openness until I left the Marines. Hell, I didn’t figure out for sure I was gay until this one came along.” Wyl thumbed at Rod.

“Doesn’t matter, sir. You and Colonel Sterling are in, or should I say out, now, and you’re open and honest, and we appreciate the example you set, sir.”

“Travers, you’re all right.”

Wyl and Rod spent the day being ushered around the naval base and the behind-the-scenes areas. They enjoyed lunch in the officer’s mess and the welcome from the Colonel in charge of base operations.

They chatted on the ride back to their residence. “Wow, this military stuff is fascinating,” Rod said. “People saluting me and asking my permission to move forward. Personal tours of bases, including fancy lunches and meetings with top brass. I’m impressed.”

“Babe, this isn’t what the military is like. We are being sent on an important mission from which we may not return. General Steinburg speaks, and everyone listens. Our status matches the danger of our mission.”

Rod fell silent. Reality hit him in the gut. He stared out the side window as Travers drove them back to their residence. Wyl took Rod’s hand and held on tight. Only one more day on American soil. Monday meant a new country and a new challenge covered with uncertainty.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Monday afternoon Wyl and Rod boarded their flight and settled into their first-class seats.

“How about a martini?” Rod reached for the inflight magazine to check if someone on a prior flight finished the crossword puzzle.

"Do you need to ask?” Wyl chuckled.

As if sensing their need, the flight attendant appeared. “Drink, gentlemen?”

“Two vodka martinis, please,” Wyl said, “Tito’s if you have it. And a newspaper.”

“Of course, Mr. Sterling. Is the Washington Post okay?” The flight attendant paused while passengers moved down the aisle toward their seats.

“The Post is fine,” Wyl said. The flight attendant hurried through a break in the boarding line before moving into the galley.

Minutes later, the flight attendant set their drinks on the console between the seats and handed Wyl The Washington Post.

“To a wonderful honeymoon,” Rod offered a toast.

Wyl tapped. “And a safe return to Sterling Ranch.”

They sipped their drinks, and Wyl opened the newspaper while Rod retrieved his pen and began working the flight magazine crossword.

Wyl gazed at his husband. I need to protect him. His primary worry was the umbrella of danger covering their assignment, but the overwhelming desire to shield his husband from the danger took priority. In the Marines, he worked behind the scenes. This mission required him to be front-line, facing criminals.  But with no prior experience with the military or criminals, keeping Rod safe took priority. From General Steinburg’s information, both of their Irish gents were educated. His lack of education added to his angst. Still, he understood cryptography better than anyone, so he would play up his strength as a cybersecurity expert while Rod handled academic discussions. Come to think of it, having Rod by his side became a huge plus. But disregarding his fear of gunfire, he would take a bullet to protect Rod if needed.

They must appear to be on an extended honeymoon. That part would be easy. After their small wedding seven months ago, they chatted a bit about a trip to Europe for a honeymoon. Their honeymoon agenda did not include nabbing criminals, but this trip gave them time together. And Rod traveled to Ireland, so exploring the wonders of the Emerald Isle as time allowed made sense.

The U.S. Embassy received high-level information about their mission. The embassy called Dublin home. They wouldn't interact with embassy officials 130 miles from their home base in Galway. General Steinburg worked only with top brass at An Garda Síochána, the Irish national police force. Only a select few know of their mission, but they would have local support through the Galway headquarters. The general also mentioned the involvement of British agents. Wyl wondered if those agents would be James Bond types. Dressed in dark suits, wearing sunglasses, brandishing pistols, and drinking their martinis shaken, not stirred. He chuckled. To everyone else, they traveled to Ireland as a wealthy gay couple enjoying an extended honeymoon.

“What funny, babe?” Rod asked.

Wyl shook his head. “Nothing. Thinking about the two British agents, and James Bond popped into my head.”

Rod laughed. “I doubt the 1960s version exists today.”

Wyl shook his head. “Yeah, but our trip is no less important.”

“I bet we don’t have an Aston Martin to drive.”

“It's just as well,” Wyl chuckled. “I wouldn’t be allowed to drive it.”

“You can drive if you want, babe.”

"Nuh-uh. Not doing that. I’m a right-side-of-the-road kind of guy. Besides, I don’t want to add further jeopardy to our honeymoon.”

Rod grabbed Wyl’s hand and held tight as they leaned back for the long flight.

* * *

They landed at Shannon Airport at 9:30 a.m. on Tuesday, October 5th. After gathering their luggage and going through customs, they stopped at the Dan Dooley car rental counter. Their rental contract included a long-term stay with an open return date.

“Sterling,” Wyl said as he got out his driver's license and credit card. Rod retrieved his license as well.