“Sorry, I didn’t know,” he whispered to Bart.

“Well then, turn around and apologize. Better sound like you mean it, or I’ll bar you,” ordered Bart.

The man turned and apologized to Laura, who claimed that she hadn’t heard him.

Jack grinned as he looked around the bar. It was very rustic, but had lots of character. In a glance, he saw an obese Swedish man with eyeglasses that were thick enough to qualify him for being legally blind, stumbling around the pool table with two prostitutes who were trying to teach him how to play. Nearby, a ladyboy was drinking with a young man who Jack suspected would be in for a real surprise later.

Across the room, he spotted a man and a woman who had moved their table aside to jive dance. They were staggering and swaying as they held each other up, while laughing and encouraging each other on in French. Not unusual, except the man was missing a foot and dancing lopsided. His prosthetic foot was sitting on the bar and he saw Tukta smile at them as she moved the foot aside to pour more drinks. All this and Bart makes a guy apologize for uttering the word fuck? Bart, you’re a gentleman. Rough around the edges perhaps, but a real gentleman.

“I like this place,” said Jack, smiling.

“You would,” replied Laura, shaking her head.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve been in a lot of bars. This is one of the best. The most fun.”

“I know you’re serious,” replied Laura with a laugh. She leaned over like she was kissing Jack in his ear and said, “Don’t look now, but across the street we have a guy in a yellow T-shirt and a gaudy silver watchband loitering about in front of another bar.”

“Love you, too,” said Jack, when Laura leaned back.

Later, after Bart got up to leave, he stopped by at their table. “Everyone treating you all right mate?” he asked Jack.

“Couldn’t be better,” replied Jack.

“A bit of a Canadian invasion we have tonight,” said Bart.

“Oh?” replied Jack, glancing around the bar while wondering if some of Sammy’s team had entered.

“The French couple,” said Bart. “Both soldiers from Quebec. Left his real foot in Afghanistan. A bloody shame, that is. The one they gave him to replace it hurts his stump. Last night he forgot it, so Tukta kept it behind the bar until he popped back in at noon to claim it. Tonight when he took it off, we put it up there as a reminder. Mind you, right now I bet he could wear it. Don’t reckon much would hurt either of them at this point.”

Jack glanced at the couple as a waitress brought them another round. The waitress tried to pour a handful of change into the soldier’s hand, but he said, “Keep the shrapnel. I have an aversion to the stuff.”

“Do me a favour, Bart,” said Jack. “Send them over another round and put it on my tab. Make it anonymous, will you?”

“Sure thing, mate. Aren’t you going to say hello to ’em? Fellow Canadians and all. Their English is good. Well, sort of. Seem like a decent lot, although a certain wanker I saw earlier today would disagree.”

“A certain wanker?” asked Jack.

Bart smiled and said, “I saw them browsing in a shop down the street this afternoon. They spotted some big ape of a wanker trying to buy a young kid. Bet she wasn’t ten years old. The soldier kicked him in the ass with his store-bought foot and put up his dukes. The big wanker backed right off and beat it down the street. The lady soldier followed him for about two blocks, cussin’ him out in French and English. Bet he thinks twice before goin’ after the next kid.”

“Forget buying them one round,” said Jack. “Make it four.”

“I’ll tell you what, mate,” said Bart. “I’ll split it with you. You going to join them?”

“Maybe later. They look like they’re having too much fun right now.”

The truth was, Jack had no intention of talking with them. He hated having to lie about who he really was to decent people.

It was a couple of hours later and not yet midnight when Jack and Laura decided to leave. The town was really coming alive and it was obvious that most of the inhabitants were nocturnal, but jet lag had taken its toll. They decided to do the twenty-minute walk back to Bill Resort and call it a night. Jack noticed that as soon as they stood and paid their tab, the man in the yellow shirt reappeared from the bar across the street and used his cellphone.

Jack and Laura had earlier discovered a shortcut back to their resort. A lane from the main street led between two tall buildings and out across an open field to the beach. From the beach, it was only a ten-minute walk to their hotel.

They purposely walked slow, occasionally stopping to look at various souvenir shops. The man in the yellow T-shirt followed on the opposite side of the street. Jack casually glanced back as they entered the darkened alley, wondering if the he would follow them there.

“Jack!” screamed Laura.

Jack felt a blow to the side of his head and stumbled, but did not fall. In the darkness, he saw two large men, each holding Laura by an arm and pinning her against a wall. A third man delivered a punch to her stomach as she tried to scream again, leaving her gasping for air.

“Hey!” yelled Jack. “You sons of —” He stopped when a fourth man appeared in front of him. Jack raised his fists, but the man delivered a side kick to Jack’s ribcage. The blow wasn’t hard enough to cause any serious injury, but the man stood between him and the others, beckoning with his hands for Jack to come forward.

“And you, Jack? Have you had any training in hand-to-hand combat?” Lee’s words echoed in Jack’s brain. These guys haven’t demanded money … no weapons … three of them on Laura and only one on me. Son of a bitch! I’m being tested and this is going to hurt!

Jack stepped forward in anger, which was genuine. His clenched fist swinging in a round arc from the side of his body toward the man’s head was not genuine. He left himself wide open and paid for it with a jab to his chest. The man was much smaller than Jack, but by the way he moved and positioned his fists, there was little doubt that he had taken boxing.

Jack purposely eyed the man’s groin, announcing his intention before trying to kick. His opponent nimbly stepped aside and did another side kick, landing a blow to Jack’s temple. Jack’s guess at what his opponent had been trained in changed. Make that Thai kick-boxing. He felt dazed from the kick and stumbled.

“Tabernac! No way to treat a lady!” yelled a man in a thick French accent.

Jack turned to see a man use the stump of his leg to kick the man in the groin who had been standing near Laura, while swinging his prosthetic foot and clobbering one of the other men in the face. This man let go of Laura’s arm and she took advantage of it to punch her other captor in the throat. A second woman, also swearing in French, joined the melee.

The scene also distracted Jack’s opponent enough that Jack landed a blow to his nose, spraying blood across his face and making his eyes fill with tears.

Seconds later, the four assailants beat a hasty retreat across the open field and up the beach. Jack and Laura both made a pretense of chasing them for a couple of minutes before returning to thank their rescuers. When they arrived back, the French couple were disappearing down the street in the back of a taxi. Neither Jack nor Laura ever saw them again or found out who they were.

It was mid-afternoon on Tuesday and Jack and Laura were relaxing around the pool at Bill Resort when Lee arrived, with a scowl on his face, about thirty minutes after he had called.

“Why are you here?” he asked, sitting on the end of a wooden lounge chair beside them. “Why did you change hotels?”

“Quite simple,” said Jack. “I’m afraid we have some bad news. We have to cancel the deal. It’s not safe.”