by Abby Gordon
“And you think this is a puzzle?”
“The most important one,” he nodded. “The why, Ginny. Why is nearly as important as who.”
With a loud sigh, she relaxed against him. “Damn, I hate it when you do that,” she muttered.
“Do what?” he grinned, covering a curved breast with his hand.
“Know me like that and use it to make me do what I know I should do even though it’s the last thing I want to do.”
“How about if I promise that once...”
“Mom! Mom!”
She was moving at the first word. Her wineglass fell on the grass. His fell a half second later as he raced after her. They charged through the family room and up the stairs. Charlie was sitting up in bed, screaming, as tears squeezed through tightly shut lids.
“Charlie?” she whispered, sitting on the bed and catching his shoulders. “Charlie, it’s all right. It’s all right. Mommy’s here, baby. I’m here.”
Gasping and hiccupping, Charlie collapsed in her arms. He must have seen Max’s shadow behind her and lifted his head.
“Dad?” he breathed.
“We’re both here, son,” Max murmured, sitting behind Ginny. He pulled them both into his embrace. “We’re both here.”
“Mom, I can’t stay up here,” Charlie whispered. “I can’t.”
Ginny nodded. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she assured him. “If child psychologists want to make a big deal out of it, fine, but you’re sleeping in my bed until you think you can deal with your room.”
Relief seemed to flood her son’s body as he sank against her. Max stood and scooped Charlie into his arms.
“Let’s go, son,” he said quietly.
Curled up in his mother’s arms, Charlie relaxed.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“What do the Knights of the Round Table have to do with me?”
Max saw the shock in her eyes as she reviewed all the conversations where he might have heard those words.
“Charlie, when…?”
“Polaris. She was screaming about how you and Dad had almost beaten her ten years ago, and how easy it was to deceive people since she had already infiltrated the Agency.”
“Did she say how many people she had?” Ginny asked.
“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, frowning. “I’ll try to go over everything and remember.”
“You do that,” she said quietly. “What else did she say?”
“Lancelot. Vivian. Gowain. Galahad and Lady of the Lake. Camelot.” He looked at his mom. “It’s about you, Uncle Art, and your cousins, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” she whispered, stunned. “I’m the Lady of the Lake and Uncle Art is Lancelot. It…it was a game when Ed and I were in school. The few times we were all together, we came up with names for each other. Code words came later when the older ones joined the Agency.”
“The ones you taught me?”
“No. I taught you different ones.” Her hand smoothed his hair down and she pressed his head to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I never wanted you to go through anything like this.”
“I’ll be all right, Mom,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. “I wish I had a special name.”
“You do,” she replied, kissing the top of his head. “The most special, and it was very true today.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up and he pulled his head free of her grasp to look at her. “Which knight am I?”
“You’re not a knight, son,” Max told him, finally understanding the phone conversation between Art and Ginny. “You are what every Knight of the Round Table searches for and protects.”
Charlie inhaled and his gaze went from one parent to the other.
“I’m…I’m…”
“The Grail,” his mother told him. “And every knight answered the call to rescue you today.”
He smiled and let her pull him back into her embrace. “You need to find a special name for Dad now.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed, meeting Max’s eyes.
He smiled, as if content to watch the two of them. Finally, he fell asleep. For twice that length of time, Ginny stayed, holding her son. Max finally pulled her upper body to rest against him. Accepting his shelter and protection, Ginny felt the strength slowly return to her body.
“Only family knew those names. Polaris could only have learned about them from someone within the inner circle.”
“I don’t think it was Art. Not sure about all of your cousins, but I saw Art’s face when Charlie and I were coming down the stairs at the farmhouse. It was the kind of expression I would have had if one of my nephews had been kidnapped and was safe.”
“Paul and Peter would have thought I wasn’t worth telling anyone about,” she exhaled in a huff. “Ed, Jason, and Gordon aren’t as chauvinistic, but I…” She shrugged. “I really don’t know any of them well enough to say, ‘yes, I trust him completely.’”
“And the eldest members of your family?”
She tilted her head back. “Mother was in the conference room this morning. Did she look like someone worried about her only grandchild?”
“That was Minerva Addleson?”
“You’ve never met her? Never gone on one of her ‘special’ missions?”
“No,” he replied. “Maybe she thought I’d figure everything out if I was face-to-face with her.”
“Possible.” She nodded and nestled against him, still holding Charlie close. “You’ve seen Mother. Met Uncle Vince. You just need to properly meet Grandfather and Uncle Philip.”
“What about the parents of the rest of the cousins?”
“Dead or…” She frowned. “Just not mentioned until it’s been so long I’d have to think about the last time they were brought up.”
“So, they could still work at the Agency.”
“It’s a possibility. Small, but…”
“Right,” he decided. “We don’t leave Charlie alone with anyone. We go in tomorrow fully armed. You still good with your knives?”
“Better.”
“Excellent.” He smiled. “It will be all right, sweetheart.”
“Sure,” she agreed, a skeptic expression on her face. “Unless we have to shoot our way through my family.”
****
Max looked at Ginny. Except for the mud and blood, she looked very much as she had facing down Polaris. Only now, she was staring down the conference table at her mother, two uncles, and her grandfather. The only people in the room were her family.
“Charlie is not going anywhere without Max and myself with him.”
“He needs to be properly debriefed,” Minerva intoned.
“The way Max wasn’t ten years ago?” Ginny fired back. “No one, and I mean no one, is talking to Charlie without us in the same room. I don’t care if you have a personal letter from the president. Charlie stays with his parents.”
“Guinevere,” Minerva sighed. “I did not raise you to be this way.”
“You didn’t raise me, Mother. The nanny and staff did before you sent me off to that God-forsaken school in the Alps.”
“That was an excellent conservatory for girls,” she sniffed. “You were always so difficult as a child, though. You refused to…”
“I wasn’t difficult. The teachers didn’t appreciate being told they were wrong,” Ginny grinned. “Any more than you did.” She glanced at her brother who suddenly burst out laughing.
Max chuckled, glancing at Charlie who grinned back. “I’ll bet you were fun to be around as a child.”
“There wasn’t much fun,” she whispered. “They were lonely years. It was all studying and training when I did come home. If it can be called home.”
Max kept his eyes on her and remembered what Art had said before Charlie’s rescue. She had been determined to create for Charlie what she’d never had.
“Which is why you were so good on the course and out on the mission,” Max nodded before focusing
back on Art. “I guess it’s time to get it all out.”
Art nodded. “Ask away. I’m not proud of what I did, but I will answer your questions completely and truthfully.”
“When did you know I couldn’t have said anything because I was in a coma?”
A reluctant, regretful expression appeared briefly on Art’s face. “I first suspected three days after.” He shot a look down the table at his grandfather. “When we were ordered from Ginny’s room.”
“Why didn’t you defend Ginny? Why the hell didn’t you listen to her?” Max was stunned.
“It was her first mission. It was just a concussion. She wasn’t that badly hurt…”
“What?” Ginny gasped. “Art! I nearly bled to death from the shrapnel in my neck!”
“What kind of brother does that?” Max ground out through clenched teeth. Standing, he shot a look down the table. “What kind of mother are you?” The disgust on his face and in his demeanor had to be obvious to everyone in the room. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this!” He moved to her and took her hands. “Ginny, this isn’t normal. It isn’t. I don’t know why they treated you like that…”
“Duty…” Minerva intoned.
“Shove it, lady,” Max told her. His hands framed Ginny’s face. “Does your family get together at Christmas or any other holiday?” She shook her head, eyes widening in shock at the idea. He smiled. “Well, if you bring a couple of pies that smell as good as the one I smelled Friday, then my dad and brothers will be your willing slaves at Thanksgiving.” Ginny smiled, her eyes fixed on his face. “And the Friday after, Mom and Dad get all the grandkids over five and go get the Christmas trees.”
“Trees? Plural?” Charlie whispered. “Wait a second. I have cousins?”
“Twelve so far, including four about your age. My mom absolutely adores Christmas,” Max grinned at his son. “She does three trees indoors and two outside with birdseed ornaments. While they get the trees, we start pulling out the ornaments and putting up the outdoor lights…”
“That would be a bit tough, Shannon,” commented Paul. “All things considered.”
Max looked at the agent who was peering smugly over his laptop.
“And why is that?”
“Because according to the personnel file I just pulled up, your parents died when you were nine,” he smirked.
Max felt Ginny grow still but her eyes never wavered.
“Does it say why or how they died? Or what happened to me after?”
Paul shifted slightly and shook his head. “No.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Minerva interrupted. “Guinevere, get away from him. He’s a liar and not to be trusted. You learned that ten years ago.”
Ginny’s expression didn’t change. Charlie moved to stand next to his mother, eyes on his father’s face. She put an arm around his shoulders.
“Max,” Ginny whispered. “Tell us what happened.”
“Guinevere!”
“Max, tell me. I’ll believe you.”
“Ginny, why would you believe him?” Vince asked. “And not listen to us?”
“I’m just following the excellent example set by my family who believed his words ten years ago. Remember? Over mine. No matter how much I begged you to listen to me? No matter what I said or did?” she smiled sweetly, sending a look around the table that was anything but sweet. “Do you really want to play that game with me?” The older members shifted and glanced at each other. “Max?”
He smiled slightly at them.
“My father killed my mother and then shot himself. I was at school or I think he would have killed me as well. He wasn’t a well man.” Max shoved the pain down. “I was put in the foster care system. I was sent to a family on the outskirts of Baltimore that had five kids of their own. We lived in a house that looked like it came from a seventies television show,” he smiled. “That’s where I learned what family really meant. And we’ll take Charlie there.” He grinned, knowing damn well his parents would be over the moon when they met Charlie. “We might have trouble getting him to leave with us. It’s a boy’s paradise there.”
“Really?” Charlie grinned, eyes wide and bright. “Sweet!”
“My parents…”
“Are dead,” Paul said cuttingly.
“You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” Max observed, glancing at him. “Six years ago I thought it was just youth and inexperience, but obviously it’s a character flaw. Yes, my biological parents are dead. However, the foster family adopted me as soon as they could. They are Mom and Dad. Now,” he looked at Ginny. “As I was saying, my parents were notified when I didn’t immediately come out of the coma. Amazingly, the Agency medical staff followed procedure,” he drawled. “They were there in hours.”
“You lived,” Peter frowned.
“I’ve noticed,” he nodded. “They think I’m an elite CIA operative,” he shrugged. “Regardless, they’re proud of what I’m doing.” He smiled.
“This is all very touching,” the Director droned. “But this is a debriefing and the two of you were given an order.”
“I’m not leaving my son,” Ginny replied calmly, putting her hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Nor am I,” Max added, his hand going to Charlie’s other shoulder.
“This is insubordination,” her uncle Philip intoned, glaring at them.
“Then I quit,” Ginny replied, shrugging. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go.”
“Can we get pizza on the way home?” he asked, taking her hand. “I’m starving.”
“Guinevere!”
“Think we could do hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill, instead?” Art suggested standing. “You have any extra buns? I can pick some up on my way,” he offered.
“Arthur!” the four senior members stared at him in shock.
“I have buns,” Ginny told him. “But we’ll need more sodas.”
“I’ll leave now and get them,” Art replied easily.
Max blinked as Art left the room. The cousins stood. The four at the end of the table were opening and shutting their mouths silently. Code words, he realized. He was going to have to get Ginny to give him a cheat sheet so he would understand their by-play.
“If you want to talk to Charlie, then you will do it with us in the room,” Ginny told them.
“We will be here tomorrow morning between eight to ten,” Max informed them. “After that, Charlie will need to get ready for his game. Same thing for the rest of the week.”
“Oh, one more thing, Uncle Vince,” Ginny spoke up as Max herded her and Charlie toward the door. “I’ll be taking next week off as well. This week does not count as vacation.”
“You are not leaving until…”
“Ginny,” Max murmured, pulling Charlie behind him. “Explain things to your grandfather.”
The knife coming from her forearm sheath was a blur as it flew. It landed with a thud, quivering on the folder in front of the Director. Ginny stalked furiously to the far end of the table. Between her grandfather and Philip, she reached out and pulled her knife from the wood.
“That was the only warning you will get,” she told them in a low voice. “Do not piss me off again.”
The Director raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “You really think you’ll be able to get away with this?”
“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “Charlie’s told you everything. If you really want to drag this out, we’ll bring him in again tomorrow. But no further than Foxtrot.”
“Well, I’d say that ends these negotiations,” Jason murmured, glancing at his father. He stepped away from the table, with his cousins a half-second behind him. “Max, you have enough room for guests at this barbeque? After the game this afternoon?”
“We’d love the company.”
Gripping the knife in her hand, Ginny kept Charlie close to her back as she moved toward Max. Her cousins surrounded them and Max opened the door.
“Oh, shit,” he murmured.
“Max!” she hissed. “Your
language…oh, dear lord,” she breathed.
Peering around her, Charlie shifted nervously at the sight of several armed agents blocking the hall. He glanced back at his maternal grandmother.
“I’ve never met her, but I like my dad’s mother a lot more than you,” he stated, shifting his gaze to the older men. “And I don’t like you at all.”
“What you like is totally irrelevant,” his great-grandfather replied.
“Likewise,” Charlie smiled, tucking his hand in his mother’s. Raising his voice, he said, “Mom, I’m guessing none of these people know how you kicked Polaris’s ass. Maybe they need a demonstration.”
For once, Ginny didn’t scold him for his language. The agents glanced at each other and shifted their feet.
“Stand aside,” came the order from the far side of the grouped agents.
They stared as Art, flanked by Nia, Mark, Zach, and two other agents made their way through the crowd. Clearing them, they turned to face them, lowering their weapons.
“I said, stand aside,” Art repeated calmly. “Max, you ready to leave?”
“I’d say so,” he replied.
The agents just shifted, glancing at each other.
“Gentlemen, we can do this the easy way or the dead way. Your choice.”
“We’re under orders from the Deputy Director of Special Operations…”
“To do what? Shoot her daughter and grandson?” Art questioned.
“What?” Several of them gasped, their eyes going from Art to Ginny and Charlie.
“And I thought my family was fucked up,” muttered one as he lowered his weapon. “Get them out of here.”
Through the mass of bodies, Art took point as they headed out of the building. A weapon in each hand, Nia and Mark flanked them. At every intersection there were more agents. Although all had handguns or rifles in their hands, not a single agent aimed at them or stepped forward to block their way.
Outside the building, they headed for Max’s car. The cousins and Art’s people spread out. They swept the area and checked the building’s roof. Realizing they weren’t out of danger, Ginny and Max kept Charlie pressed between them. She dropped a kiss on his hair.
“Stay here,” Max told them, pulling his keys out of his pants’ pocket. He glanced over his shoulder. The family elders had followed them. “Just in case.”