by Laura Acton
Blaze walked to the window and stared out then said in an aggravated tone, “The General. That isn’t the man we know. Not the man who had no regard for Blondie for the six years he was with us, the man who kept assigning Blondie to work with other units, when he should’ve had down time. Not the man that refused us when we requested to look for Blondie when he was taken. Hell, it just doesn’t add up.”
“I’m really struggling with it, too,” Patch put in. “The way he held Blondie—that can’t be someone who is that cold and calculated. Gambrill’s words and the General’s actions and words just don’t match to the bastard we know. Why would he care if there was a threat to Blondie now? He certainly didn’t care when he was tortured for months.
“He only visited once when Blondie was back from that, and he was damned cold when he ordered him not to commit suicide because he put too much into his training—so cold. Why would he do all this? Why would he care now? Which is the true man? Why are they so different?” Patch said tiredly trying to make his head clear enough to understand.
Winds said very bitterly, “Re-activating Patch was more like the General we know. Which, by the way, was incredibly wrong regardless of this so-called security breach. However, what isn’t like the General and what’s bugging the hell outta me was when the General whispered to Blondie, ‘look terrible like the first time in Kandahar’.
“How the hell could he know what Blondie looked like that first time? All he wanted to know was if he died. He never even bothered to come see Blondie. We know that for sure because we were with Blondie the entire time. We never left him alone.” Winds dropped down on the bed working very hard to rein in his emotions before he let loose words he might later regret.
Still looking out the window Blaze said glumly, “I caught that, too. Made me remember that day—still miss Gambit still. I remember how badly Blondie felt when we told him Gambit didn’t make it—he thought it was his fault. He wasn’t assuaged by the fact that he saved us three and Mason.
“He kept telling me that Gambit would be alive if he’d run faster, if he had seen the C4 sooner, if he avoided the bullet he would’ve gotten there sooner. I remember laughing at Blondie when he said if he had avoided the bullet. Like that was something he could’ve prevented. At the time, I just didn’t get it and just accepted it as part of who he is. But after today, I think I understand. Sadly, I really think I know where that stems from now—his sister’s death.”
Winds slammed his fists on the bed. “How come we’re only just now learning that Blondie had a little sister that died? I thought he trusted us.”
Blaze raked his hands over his face. “Blondie has secrets. As bad as Brody’s childhood was, I think Blondie’s was worse in some ways. He holds close to the vest things that make him feel vulnerable. The only one that Blondie ever fully trusted was Brody.”
Winds snorted. “Maybe not, Brody didn’t even know his birthday and they’d been friends for several years.”
Blaze kept quiet. He had his suspicions that Brody had actually known Blondie’s birthday. Brody was a true brother and confident to Blondie—their bond was special and Brody kept Blondie’s secrets—like Blondie’s fear of water. So he figured Brody probably knew about Sara.
Blondie never did talk much about his past with them. Blaze knew he’d earned Blondie’s trust on the rooftop in Makhachkala and he was damned sure that no one—except perhaps Dr. Pastore—knew the secret the kid had shared that day. It was a secret of Blondie’s he’d take to the grave. After today, Blaze was pretty certain that the kid still had other secrets. Blaze was pulled out of his own thoughts when he heard Patch talking.
“I didn’t hear that. I was too focused on how the General was holding Blondie. The look on the General’s face tonight was just like that damned photo. Maybe Gambrill is right … maybe Blondie mixed some things up in his head as a little boy. Something like seeing your little sister die in front of you would be very disturbing. But that still doesn’t explain the other stuff. It just doesn’t,” Patch said unhappily and thoroughly confused.
“So, what do we do about it now? How do we proceed with our version of Dr. Jekyll and General Hyde?” Winds asked sharply with pent-up emotion.
Hearing that well-known tone in Winds’ voice, Blaze turned quickly and studied Winds. Oh shit, the storm is gathering, he thought. The outburst at Gambrill was a category three. Winds was definitely brewing again and if he let loose this time it would likely cost him his career—especially after the dressing-down they’d received tonight.
Most people thought Winds’ nickname was because of his job as communication specialist, ‘like talking to the winds’. The unit let others think that, but the real reason was the hurricane force of words that he occasionally unleashed. Those ‘winds’ of words could be devastating to their target. But mostly it ended up costing Winds reprimands and demotions.
That was why he was still only a Corporal after so many years in service. The last time he’d mouthed off, Plouffe busted Winds down to Private. This time, General Badass would see to it that Winds received a Big Chicken Dinner—a dishonorable discharge. Blaze couldn’t allow Winds to throw away the military life he valued—it was his vocation and calling.
Blaze considered the question, trying to figure a way to dissipate the storm before it developed fully, “I think it’s best for now to put it on the back burner. Focus on protecting Blondie while he’s unable to do it for himself. It doesn’t jive at all anymore. And I have more questions than answers at the moment. The one thing we do know now is that Blondie is no longer under the General command. Blondie’s safe at the TRF.”
Winds and Patch gave him a ‘Are you kidding me?’ look.
“Well, at least safer than being under the General’s control and in Kandahar,” Blaze amended, seeing that Blondie’s current condition was a result of activities with the TRF. Blaze looked at Winds trying to judge if his words had any affect. He was so damned tired it was hard to tell. Maybe sleep would help all of them get a better grip and think more clearly.
With no more words, they just gave each other a brotherly hug before Winds and Patch left for their rooms. Blaze was so spent he didn’t even bother to pull the covers down or undress as he let himself fall onto the bed. He was asleep within seconds.
Chapter Forty-Six
July 16
Grand Citadel Hotel – Loki’s and Ray’s Room – 9:20 p.m.
Loki had just finished showering and changed into comfortable shorts for sleeping. He exited the bathroom and nodded to Ray. They had offered to room together so that Heather would have a room to herself. “So you pick your bed? Window or door? This room has an awesome view, city is all lit up. Did you find the coffee pot?” Loki rambled on talking non-stop.
Ray knew something was bothering Loki. He rambled like this when his emotions were frazzled. But Loki hadn’t yet gotten to his point. Ray would continue listening until he heard what it was that had Loki concerned. It always eventually came out, just had to let him spew a bit first.
So he listened—ah there it is, ‘did I set up enough cameras?’ and ‘did I find all the blind spots?’. Ray interrupted and used his calming voice, “Loki, you did good. No blind spots, man. Dan is covered well. Everything will be just fine tonight. It’s okay to sleep now. I’ll get the light. You take the window bed.”
Loki looked at Ray and said, “Do you think Dan is really the target of someone? I looked up blackout protocol. I didn’t find anything on it. What do you think all this means?”
Ray lead Loki to the bed by the window and pushed him gently down so he was sitting on the edge. “I don’t have any answers for you, Loki. Time to turn off your brain. None of us has enough brain power right now to think clearly.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Loki looked out the window. “Yeah, you’re right. We need some sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin sorting all this out.” Loki crawled into bed, pulled the covers up, and closed his weary eyes.
Ray turned off
the light and then did likewise. His mind was just as mixed up as Loki’s. He was looking forward to getting some answers tomorrow. For now—sleep was necessary.
Grand Citadel Hotel – Lexa’s Room – 9:25 p.m.
Just as Lexa had reached her room her phone rang. She’d looked at the number and recognized it as Commander Gambrill’s. He informed her she was to meet with Agent Stevens of NRB tomorrow morning at eight in the hotel lobby for the interview regarding her lethal force at the bank.
Lexa pulled herself out of the tub she’d soaked in for the last fifteen minutes trying to remove the ache from her overused muscles from the trek in section seven. She had needed the soak and was less stiff as she toweled herself off. Lexa slowly moved to the king-size bed and pulled on her short nightgown.
She really didn’t want to be so far from Dan. Part of her wished she could’ve stayed in the other bedroom in the suite—she had a terrible feeling inside that Dan was in danger. He was under protection—so, yeah, he was in danger—but something in her was clawing at her and telling her to be aware.
Lexa lay down on the soft downy pillows and pulled the plush comforter over her body up to her neck. She was glad the interview would take place here. After she’d hung up with Gambrill, Lexa had a sense of relief that she would get the interview over with too. She was still upset with herself for having tears in her eyes. The blink to clear them had allowed Garth to shoot Dan. He had a hairline fracture of his collarbone because she wasn’t ready.
As she recalled his scars, how he looked in the ravine, and the ungodly howling—tears started to flow. Her silent tears turned into quiet sobs, muffled by her pillow. She felt Dan’s pain—she’d lost her brothers, too. Not quite the same—they weren’t dead. But she understood his loss in some form. Lexa still missed her brothers and couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they died.
Lexa cried for a long time—until there were no more tears. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling as she chided herself that she needed to pull it together. She didn’t cry for any man—ever. Images of Dan’s eyes showing his various emotions over the past two days danced in her mind.
Tears she didn’t know she had left in her, sprung forth and silently rolled down her cheeks leaving trails of salt. She closed her eyes as she cursed out loud, “Damn! Why does Dan affects me so much? I don’t cry—not for a man.”
She rolled to her side and curled up. She hadn’t cried so much since the man that meant the most to her shattered her heart and left a million scattered pieces of it on the ground. Lexa willed herself to sleep as she told herself repeatedly, I’m just overtired, sleep will help.
The little devil on her shoulder exchanged her horns for her halo and with a sad expression, softly crooned, “Rest, Sweetheart, just rest tonight, my little one. Remember you have always been loved.” Then she filled Lexa’s mind with pleasant memories of her childhood as they baked cookies together—a time when Lexa felt the love of her entire family.
Grand Citadel Hotel – Main Suite Balcony – 9:50 p.m.
William sat alone, at the table on the balcony, with his coffee in hand as he stared at the city lights of Toronto. Being fifteen floors up, the sounds from below were somewhat muted. He was exhausted and had just finished talking with Walter about the contents of the suicide note and what Inspector Davis relayed regarding what Dr. Carter had to say about Richard Donner.
Taking a sip of coffee, William allowed himself a moment to grieve. To grieve for all the time he’d lost with Daniel. To grieve for the loss of his son’s innocence in one fleeting moment. To grieve for everything the entire family had lost and everything his son had gone through as a result of that fateful summer day when Sara was killed.
A lone tear streaked down his face. He wished he could call Yvonne for her advice on how to proceed. He wanted things to change, yet every time he tried something it backfired. William knew he had so many things that he needed to beg forgiveness for from Daniel. Some things William knew were unforgivable—but he hoped …
William pushed those painful memories to the back of his mind as he reached forward and turned on his encrypted phone. Things were FUBAR. He dialed Tom’s encrypted line as he also flicked on the RF jammer, digital audio jammer, and noise generator that would prevent his communications from being heard, picked up, or recorded by anyone who might be trying to listen in. When Sutton answered, William stated, “Things are worse than I imagined.”
Tom sighed. “How’s Phoenix?”
“Sedated. Injuries he’ll recover from, but I learned some things that give credence to his comment about me trying to kill him. I’m not sure what’s going on. I need the security clearances TRF team right away. Also, get paperwork going on Patch. I had to activate him under the special assignment clause.”
Tom blew out a long breath. “Christ, Oracle, why the hell did you do that? You know why he left.”
“I know. It was necessary.” William chuckled without humor at the use of his old call sign. It had been many years since Tom called him Oracle. William responded, “He wouldn’t leave Phoenix, so I had to reactivate Patch to allow him to stay and care for him. Patch was right here in Toronto for months and didn’t know Phoenix was here.”
William realized it was probably better to refer to the men by their call signs as he added, “Blaze, Winds, and Patch barred me from getting to Phoenix when I arrived. Their expressions said they thought I’d harm him. Hell, Winds had his hand on his weapon.”
“He what?” Tom exclaimed as he stood and began to pace his office. “My God, what did you do?”
William leaned back in his chair. “Dressed them down and excused their behavior this time. Something serious is going on here. Blaze thought Phoenix was on blackout protocol. He said he’s been looking for him—using his extensive network of resources—for the past year. My brother said much the same thing to me. Why the hell couldn’t they find him? We didn’t have him on protocol. Someone is pulling strings. I feel like a damned puppet. This goes deep or wide. We have a real problem.”
He raked his hand through hair still damp from his shower. “There’s also the fact that Blaze said they tried to visit Phoenix during the review board period. They were told I ordered no visitors and were refused, but their names were never even entered into the log as people trying to visit him. I gave very strict orders that the only people allowed to see Phoenix was Blaze, Winds, Patch, and Mason and to record everyone who tried to visit.”
Tom sat heavily into his chair. “Shit, this is worse than we thought. What so you want me to do?”
William took a long sip of coffee. “I’ve given this some thought. Clearly, we have no idea who all is involved—it’s going to require investigation. Sadly, I think that there may be people involved that we trust. Those damned photos have been coming to me ever since he applied to Special Forces.
“I’m thinking there might be something with Phoenix’s service—things don’t add up anymore. I know I’ve screwed up with him, but the level of hatred I saw in the eyes of the unit as they barred me from him … that was hard to take Something more than my hands-off attitude towards Phoenix must be driving it. We need a closer look at his records, but I don’t know that I even trust my analysts anymore.”
Tom responded, “We need someone not associated with SF to investigate. Bransworth could help—he’s with Canadian Security Intelligence Service.”
Staring out at the city lights, William came to a conclusion. “I agree. But we need people we can trust. I know you trust Bransworth … he may be with CSIS now, but he was with SF previously.”
“CSIS might be the right ones to engage here. Bransworth is one of the most trustworthy men I know. I’d stake my life that he’s clean in this … whatever this is,” Tom stated.
“No! I’ve already lost one child and Pletcher just tried to kill my other daughter … apparently is still trying to with him ending up where she was located. We don’t know where he got his information. I won’t risk Phoenix. God,
I might actually have a chance of reconnecting with him—I can’t lose him again. I need you to rush the clearances through on the TRF team.”
Tom stood and began pacing again. “I don’t know if that will fly. You know how hard it’s gonna be to make a case.” He would let William think on this a while. His friend would come to the same conclusion he had—not knowing who to trust inside Special Forces now, they needed outside help. Getting Bransworth and the CSIS involved was their only good option, especially since Pletcher had once been part of the Intelligence Branch of the Canadian Forces.
“Do what you can. If I have to I’ll call Jerrell,” William stated.
Tom whistled. “You’d contact him over this?”
“Damned right I will. This is my family and I’m done being played with like some damned puppet. National security is at risk here, too. We have a serious problem and none of our normal people have found a goddamned thing. If someone can get to me through my family, imagine what they could do if they went after others.”
William stood and gripped the balcony rail so hard his knuckles turned white. Tom was silent on the other end as both of them thought through what they were facing. William released his hold and said, “I’m too tired to think clearly right now. Do what you can to push through the clearances.”
Then William conceded, “Perhaps if we have them coordinate with a CSIS liaison … Bransworth, we can get them enough clearance to maybe help figure out just what the hell is going on. This is important … I can’t lose my son now … not when there’s finally hope.” He turned to the table and picked up his coffee cup before turning back to the lights of the city.
“Okay, I’ll do what I can. I’ll even contact Jerrell if necessary. You get some rest and focus on the kid. I’ll send you an update by 0600 Toronto.” Tom sat down, swiveled his chair, and opened the drawer to pull out the folders he’d created to get security clearances for the TRF team.