by Darrell Bain
"Suits me. That way you won't be so busy and can keep dating the best looking scientist in the agency so he can keep you out of trouble." He paused dramatically. "The things I do for my country."
She smiled at him. "He's more likely to get me into trouble but I suppose I'll just have to suffer. In fact, he could probably entice me into a drink at his place if he took me somewhere for a little dancing first."
"Is that all?"
She grinned impishly. "That depends on how well you dance."
***
Anton McAllister eyed Jane, who was sitting on the other side of his desk. "I read the same story, too, remember? I'm the one who handed it off to you. But you say you have more information about her?"
"Yes, sir. Quite a bit more, actually. Enough that I think someone should be assigned to watch her."
"It will have to really be good for us to assign an agent." He noticed the folder she was holding and pointed a finger. "Is that it?"
"Yes, sir. It's everything I've found so far. I'm not guaranteeing there's not more, but what I do have is fantastic enough."
"Let's see it, if you don't mind."
"Yes, sir." She handed him the folder then sat quietly while he skimmed through the pages quickly. He glanced at her with an enigmatic expression on his face then began reading again, from the start, and much more slowly. When he was finished he looked up.
"Jane, I appreciate the work you've done here and for your acumen in bringing the rest of this story to my attention. I'll need to think about it, but... could you return here first thing tomorrow morning?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good. I'll see you then." He stood up and, uncharacteristically, escorted her to the door. He closed it behind her and returned to his desk. For long minutes he sat there, thinking. Could it be possible that the Douglas girl might be the key to solving a problem the agency had been perusing for years without success?
He didn't know whether she was or not but there was no doubt in his mind that she should be watched and protected. He could just see her being suborned into working for a nefarious unit of the CIA, the NSA or one of the other agencies gathered under Homeland Security's umbrella. They all had their dark side and he had heard rumors that Homeland Security was forming a clandestine unit of agents theoretically responsible to the NSA but in reality directly controlled by HS.
The problem was that both Jane and David Marston were top-notch scientists but neither was trained in what was called trade craft. Nor could either of them be told exactly why he wanted the girl protected. Even the sitting president didn't know, although his predecessor did. The man residing in the White House now had been deemed untrustworthy. Fortunately he would soon be gone and his successor couldbe trusted. However... there existed a couple of agents of his own at large, masquerading in fields that gave them freedom of movement while they gathered data which might be useful. He immediately thought of one of them, the best one, in his opinion. She actually earned a living at her other occupation and was the agent who had forwarded the original story to his attention. He decided to contact her, then have her and the two scientists cooperate. Each would continue to practice their chosen profession while data accumulated on the girl. It wasn't as if she could be used at the present time even if her talent did prove to be the key they had been looking for. That time was several years off as yet. Probably.
In the meantime, Jane's suggestion to assign the new kid to the girl appealed to him. He was only twenty-one but already had his doctorate in physics and was proficient in several other specialties. A multitasker and a polymath by all accounts. He could handle the girl and his regular projects as well. Him being young was a definite plus, too. Anton himself had been out here on the west coast with his tiny unit for years, split off from the main agency back east. He might remain for years more, if he lived that long. He had only to look in a mirror to see how old he'd gotten.
***
Most states have bureaus designed to protect children from abuse and neglect. In Texas the Child Protective Services Department (CPS) came under the umbrella of the Department of Family and Protective Services. The CPS field agents and their supervisors are generally competent and truly are devoted to seeing that children are not abused or neglected-or worse.
The CPS Division office in Lufkin was run by a Ms. Jesha Meriweather, a career bureaucrat who was contending for a promotion to the State CPS. To better her chances she pushed her field agents, the ones who investigated complaints of abuse, to take protective custody of children more often than any other branch office in the state. Many times those youngsters would have been better off left with their purportedly abusive parents, who would then be enrolled in family counseling sessions or parenting classes. Ms. Meriweather didn't much believe in that approach. She had convinced herself that taking children from their homes and placing them with families who were paid to care for them was the solution for almost every case. Of course she was then able to mark the case file "resolved" and add it to her department's score rather than having to leave it open, which would alter their statistics unfavorably. In fact, she never wanted one of her agents to make a wrong decision and leave children in their home environment and perhaps have them hurt or abused again. It did happen but not nearly as often as she thought. Her field agents followed her lead rather than take a chance on reviews for their own promotions being less than optimum. Ms. Meriweather's employee reviews were heavily graded on the number of cases her agents could mark "resolved" or "closed".
Other than complaints about abusive parents who were reported to her office, there were a few other ways that induced her to send a field agent to investigate a home. One of those was when someone reported that a child was intentionally placed in a dangerous environment or situation. After reading the stories and watching the film clips she almost automatically decided that Samantha Douglas was in great danger and must be protected, which in her strictly fundamental judgment obviously meant she should be removed from her parent's custody and placed in a foster home. Helping to treat a huge ferocious tiger with nothing but a dog to protect her, she thought. The very idea! She gave no consideration at all to the fact that it hadn't been her parents' idea to begin with. They had become involved only after the escaped tiger came to the girl for help, according to her own statement. As if a tiger could think that coherently. The girl might even be a special needs child if she believed that! The CPS supervisor planned to make an unannounced call on the Douglas household in the very near future. She already thought the child would almost certainly have to be taken away from the parents so she would receive responsible supervision. It was obvious to her, if not to anyone else.
Chapter Eight
"You mean I can't write the story?" Jennie said with a sinking heart. Damn! She knew her two professions were bound to clash one day but why now?
"No, I'm sorry. You'll have to sit on it for the time being," her boss, not the one at the Chronicle, but the other, the one she never talked about, told her.
"So what am I supposed to do? You must have a reason for telling me this."
"Yes, but unfortunately, it's above your pay grade. What you can do, however, if befriend the girl and her parents. Tell them you're writing a book about her talent with animals, but because you sympathize with them, give them your assurance that you won't publish it until she's grown. In the meantime, stay in close contact with her and any adults you think know more than they're telling. Be proactive so that they, or her parents, will contact you if anyone either threatens the girl or attempts to suborn her parents or their friends in any way. It's possible other government agencies might become interested. For that matter, I wouldn't put it past some nations to try grabbing and using her."
"I see," Jennie said after a moment of hesitation. "So I'm to collect data on her talent but also to protect her from outside influence, if possible."
"Correct. And you're to contact me personally any time you have the least suspicion of anyone outside the family's cir
cle attempting to either influence or harm her. If necessary, and speed is of the essence, you're to take action yourself and contact me afterward. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. I know I'm not supposed to be curious but I'm afraid I can't help it in this case. From all accounts she's a very nice and courageous young lady. I'd hate to think her talent would be used for... military purposes." She hadn't been able to keep from saying that.
"Put your mind at rest, Jennie. That's not why we're interested in her despite what we normally do. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything more than that."
"Well, what you just said helps. I suppose there's no objection to me actually writing a book?"
"Of course not. We may even help you get it published when and if the time comes. Notice I said 'if'. No guarantees."
"I understand, sir."
"Good. I'll say good-bye, then."
Jennie closed the phone, the one that rarely rang. For a while she sat where she was in her motel room in Lufkin, musing but coming to no conclusions. Finally she began to think of the present.
Jennie decided to appear at the Douglas household in person and without calling in advance. She was relatively certain they had already answered way too many calls from reporters, and most likely their internet address had been jammed with curiosity seekers. It was a Friday evening. There were two cars parked in the open garage, indicating the family was probably at home. She hoped they had finished supper when she rang the doorbell. She also hoped they would allow her to proceed as she planned.
A good looking man with dark hair and a firm chin opened the door, but only part way. What she could see of his face looked weathered, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. Given the nature of his former jobs, he would have.
"Yes? What do you want?"
He's not being rude but that wasn't exactly a friendly welcome, either, Jennie thought. Aloud she said, "Mr. Douglas?"
"That's me. If you're another reporter we don't want to talk."
"My name is Jennie Standifer. I'm a free-lance reporter with several outlets, including the Houston Chronicle. I can understand that you're probably sick of reporters, Mr. Douglas. You must have been inundated with requests for interviews and sessions with your daughter. All I can do is offer apologies for some my offensive and discourteous colleagues and hope that you'll let me speak to you for a moment or two inside."
"I don't wish to be rude but I told you we don't want to talk or have any more publicity. Isn't that clear enough?"
Jennie made a decision on the spot. "Perfectly, sir, and I sympathize completely. I've seen too many cases of youngsters who suddenly become famous in the movie and musical industries, and in similar situations. When their name gathers notoriety some of them become spoiled, and in some cases ruined by all the publicity. I'll admit that I'm an investigative reporter but I'd like to think I know enough to be understanding of the person whom I'm investigating, especially when they are under-aged. If you'll allow me to speak with you and your wife and daughter I promise that I'll be guided entirely by your desires and that anything any of you say or do will never see the light of day from me without your explicit permission. That includes events from your life in Alaska, too. However, I have a proposition for you and your daughter. It would involve a book about her life but wouldn't be published until either you and your wife give permission or she turns eighteen. It could possibly involve a substantial amount of money for her. How does that sound?" Jennie had thought that was what she would decide before ringing the doorbell. Mr. Douglas' reaction only crystallized it.
Alaska? Oh, Lord, now they've heard about what happened there! But she sounds sincere. Maybe if we talk to her she'll at least not make fun of Sammie or play up the way she was treated in Alaska. And a book? Even with the prospective scholarship, kids just getting started in life can always use some extra money. It's at least worth talking about. Ronald gave an audible sigh. "Alright, come on in, but just for a few minutes. And if you're serious about a book, I want to call my attorney and see if he could run over here for a few minutes."
"I'm serious and I believe having your attorney present is an excellent idea."
If she continued to cooperate like that, Ronald thought they might be able to get along. He opened the door to let her in then closed and locked it behind her. There were a lot of nut cases in the world and with the notoriety of Samantha's tryst with the tiger, he and his wife had suddenly become much more security conscious.
Jennie entered and was led to the den where Elaine and Samantha were watching television. They both stood up when they saw he had brought a visitor.
"Elaine, Samantha, this is Jennie Standifer. She's a free-lance reporter. She's discovered Sammie's history with animals in Alaska but she has promised she won't print anything without our permission."
"Well, thank God for that," Elaine said. "May I offer you something to drink, Ms. Standifer?" She decided right off to be polite to the woman if she would only stay silent about her daughter.
"Coffee would be fine if you have some."
"I put a pot on just a few minutes ago. It should be ready now. How do you take it?"
"Nothing but the caffeine."
"Well, at least you know coffee. I'll just be a moment."
"Save some for Steve Orleans, honey. I'm going to call and see if he can come over and listen in while we talk."
"Ask if Betty can come, too, Dad, please."
"Alright, Sammie. I will."
"You must be Samantha," Jennie said, looking her way.
Samantha stood up. "Yes, ma'am. That's me."
My word! A polite child in this day and age! Will wonders never cease? "I've heard about your successes with animals, Ms. Douglas. You should be very proud of yourself, regardless of the naysayers."
At first Samantha looked toward her mother, who had just returned with the coffee, then realized that the "Ms. Douglas" had been addressed to her. "Thank you, Ms. Standifer. But what does naysayers mean? I think I have it figured out but I'm not certain."
"That means someone who habitually opposes or denies the obvious in the context that I used it in."
"That's about what I thought. That's a neat word. Thank you."
"No thanks are necessary, Ms. Douglas."
"You don't have to call me that, Ms. Standifer. Most people just call me Sammie, except my teachers, of course."
Jennie chuckled and was joined by the other adults.
"Alright. And my name is Jennie." The reporter smiled. She liked the young lady already. "Thank you," she added, looking to Elaine as she set the coffee cup on the end table by the couch where she was sitting.
After waiting politely until Jennie had her coffee, Ronald excused himself to call Mr. Orleans.
"Steve, this is Ronald Douglas. I have an investigative reporter here at the house who appears to be offering a delayed book deal for Samantha. She seems okay but I'd appreciate it if you had time to come over and sit in on our conversation, just so I don't give away Sammie's story for nothing."
"That's a good idea, Ron. Has she asked you for money or your social security number or anything like that?"
"No, no. I would have kicked her out if she had. I just think we ought to be cautious in this instance. She knows some things about Sammie from Alaska that you haven't heard yet, either."
"Oh, really? You mean Sammie has been involved in situations with other animals like she was with the tiger?"
"Yes, a number of them as a matter of fact. I sure don't want that to get out here, though. I'm surprised it hasn't already."
"Okay, give me a few minutes. Do you mind if I bring Betty along? Her mother left her with me while she went to a garden club meeting. Now that we've got all our student loans paid off she's ready to start building our dream home."
Ronald laughed good naturedly. "Sure. As a matter of fact, Sammie wanted me to ask you if she could come. Bring her along. That way if we need to talk privately, Sammie will have someone to visit with."
***
/> Samantha's mother was still uncomfortable with Jennie, not knowing exactly what she was after. She decided that it would be best to get it into the open before Mr. Orleans arrived. "Just what is it that you're after, Ms. Standifer?"
"Please call me Jennie. And truthfully? Originally I was after a big story I thought might be lurking around the edges of the tiger episode. I was right. I found out about Samantha's experiences in Alaska and there is a wonderful story involved in her amazing rapport with animals. However, it has such a downside I promised your husband I wouldn't report a word of it without your permission."
"There most certainly is a downside. Sammie has already experienced it at school and in Alaska as well, haven't you Sammie?"
"Yes, ma'am," Samantha replied, catching the implied order not to tell the reporter she could talk to animals.
"I would be interested in hearing about your experiences in Alaska. It all seems so amazing."
"It's not, really," Elaine said quickly. "Sammie has always had a way with animals and they appear to trust her and know she would never hurt them. It's their instinct, I suppose."
Jennie thought there must be more to it than that. Her agency boss did, too. Admittedly, she didn't know that much about the animal kingdom but she doubted that instinct could account for all Samantha had done, at least if the reports she had received were correct.
"I heard that you had a pet moose and that bears and wolves from the wild allowed you to play with them and their cubs and pups. I've never heard of such a thing. In fact, from what little I know, those animals are very protective of their young and keep them away from humans."
"They are protective," Samantha said. "For some reason they trusted me, though."
"Just like I said," Elaine confirmed.
"But how on earth did you manage to convince a rabid wolverine to lay down and be shot? The way I heard it, you put yourself between it and the first and second graders and kept it from attacking anyone."
"The poor thing was so sick and was hurting so bad that I just... well, I talked to it and somehow it knew it would be released from its pain."