by Anise Eden
This news was met by curious glances and a few murmurs, but they were quickly silenced by Captain Abbott’s voice. “Tomorrow at 0900, a small group of us will gather in the main hospital lobby to pay our last respects to Dr. Belo before his body is returned to Brazil for burial. If you are to be a part of that group, you will be notified.”
I certainly wanted to be a part of that group. I gave Ben an anxious look. He responded with a subtle nod.
“Now to the details. As expected, we were contacted by CIA agent and head of the Deep Sea cell, Anglerfish, asking to make a deal. The four members of the cell, which also included Blackdragon, Lancet, and Daggertooth, were named after different types of deep sea fish, no doubt to highlight their impenetrable stealth.” All of the marines in the room chuckled. “As everyone is aware, thanks to the creative and dedicated efforts of the MacGregor Group, we were able to locate and apprehend Blackdragon. In retaliation, Anglerfish called in a false tip to the FBI to pick up Sid, an asset of the MacGregor Group. In short, we had some leverage, and they had some leverage. After some excellent negotiating by members of Yankee Company, a deal was reached.”
My leg began to bounce. Ben rested his hand on my thigh and rubbed gently back and forth until the bouncing stilled.
“Anglerfish agreed to call his FBI contact, say that the tip he called in was a case of mistaken identity, and request Sid’s immediate release. We have confirmation that this part of the deal has been accomplished and that Sid is home safe.”
I wanted to collapse with relief. I held myself up by sheer willpower and the strong desire to not embarrass either Ben or myself.
Captain Abbott continued, “As for our part of the deal, Anglerfish knew there would have to be some consequences. After all, an innocent man is dead, and while Blackdragon didn’t give us much, she did help us by identifying the other members of the Deep Sea cell. Their boss at the CIA is one of our close contacts there—one of the people we contacted initially, in fact, when it became clear that there was CIA involvement in Braz’s poisoning. Word on the street is that their boss has no love for Anglerfish. Indeed, he was all too happy to learn from us that the Deep Sea cell had been engaged in a secret project that fell so far outside of departmental guidelines. However, as our part of the deal, we agreed to retract the murder allegation. On the record, we told Anglerfish’s boss that we were mistaken; Braz had accidentally poisoned himself in his first attempt to make fugu.”
I squinted up at the captain. “Fugu?”
“A Japanese delicacy,” he explained, “made from pufferfish, parts of which are highly toxic. Only specially trained chefs are allowed to prepare the dish in restaurants. Braz was known to be something of an adventurous cook, especially when he was drinking, so the story is plausible. Their boss assured me that Anglerfish, Lancet, and Daggertooth would be taken out of the field permanently. After being put through one of the CIA’s ‘re-education programs,’ they will be reassigned to desk jobs at Langley for the remainder of their careers. That way, the CIA can continue to keep a close eye on them, and they can’t do any further harm.”
This announcement was met with general sounds of approval from around the room, but I began to feel vaguely nauseous. Braz was dead, and the consequence was desk jobs?
“As for Blackdragon—Jennifer—she expressed a desire to leave the CIA altogether,” Captain Abbott said. “This presented something of a dilemma for all parties involved. First, she killed an innocent man, although she has yet to confess to this. Second, she knows a lot of secrets that the CIA would prefer remain secret. Third, there is every chance that if she were allowed to leave the CIA without another assignment in place, the other members of her cell would know that she had turned on them and might retaliate against her, putting her life in jeopardy. Fortunately, we have a silver-tongued cowboy on our side.” Pete tipped his hat. “After a few conversations with Pete, Jennifer decided that she wants to join the Marine Corps and, ultimately, Yankee Company. Of course, given her history, she will have a several-years-long probationary period and will be under the joint supervision of the CIA and the Marine Corps. But I have to say, since it’s usually Langley stealing marines from us, it would be nice to steal one of their agents for a change.”
There were more general noises of approval, but bile was rising in my throat. Before I could stop it, my hand shot up.
“Yes, Miss Duncan?” Captain Abbott asked.
I struggled to put my frustration into words. “Sir, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for all of the negotiating that has happened, and that you got Sid released,” I said carefully. “But Jennifer—she killed Braz! Shouldn’t she go to jail? Shouldn’t they all go to jail? And if you let her join the Marines—especially Yankee Company—how could you ever trust her? She could up and attack someone at any moment with an epi-pen!”
“All valid points and excellent questions, Miss Duncan,” Captain Abbott acknowledged in a tone so collegial that it took me by surprise. “Due to the politics, sensitive information, and high security clearances involved, where possible, the CIA prefers to handle internal problems themselves. Part of the agreement we made with them in this case was that we would not push for a public reckoning.”
My head was spinning. “But once those agents complete whatever ‘re-education program’ they’re doing, couldn’t they then just quit their jobs and do whatever they liked?”
“Certainly, but if they quit their jobs at the CIA against the orders of their superiors, there would be a high probability that they’d meet with sudden, ‘accidental’ deaths.” His matter-of-fact tone made me shudder. He continued, “As for Jennifer, she killed Braz under direct orders from her superior. Now, technically speaking, she has become a whistle-blower herself—just the type of person Yankee Company was formed to protect. These situations are rarely black and white, Miss Duncan. In fact, they’re usually murky, and questions of justice must sometimes be set aside in order to achieve the best possible outcome, which we believe we have done here. Given what you told us about Braz’s wishes, we think he would agree—and he is, after all, the most aggrieved party in this case.”
Well, that part was true. Braz had wanted them to let Jennifer off lightly—but not the other three agents! And were the Marines really going to trust Jennifer to protect vulnerable people?
As though he’d read my mind, Captain Abbott added, “As touched as I am by your concern about the wellbeing of the members of Yankee Company, rest assured that we know how to take care of ourselves. Believe me, Jennifer’s every move will be monitored for years before we even think about letting our guard down. And if she comes at any of us with a—what did you call it, an ‘epi-pen’—she will not live to tell about it.”
His last few words were spoken in a tone that made a chill slide down my spine—but it was a chill that I found oddly reassuring. I felt sure that Captain Abbott would see to it that Jennifer never harmed anyone else.
“Does that answer your questions, Miss Duncan?”
Not satisfactorily. The whole thing still made me ill. But it was clearer than ever that I was dealing with a world I knew nothing about—a world that ran according to entirely different rules than the ones I was used to. Sid was safe; at least I could hold on to that. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
“Good,” he said. “Any more questions?”
After a few moments of silence, Captain Abbott declared the briefing over and the room began to buzz with various conversations. All I could do was look down at my hands.
Ben put his arm around my shoulders and slowly rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “Messy, isn’t it?”
I rested my head against him. “It just feels all wrong.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I like being in charge of things and calling the shots—not having to take orders anymore. I can manage gray areas if I have to, but I don’t like it. And I don’t like having to compromise.”
“You don’t say.”
Humor flashed in his eyes
. “You noticed?”
I suppressed a smile. “But you’re not really in charge at the MacGregor group, are you? I mean, you still work for your mother.”
He didn’t even come close to taking the bait. “Yes, but since she and I are basically the same person, there’s no conflict.”
I knew that to be almost entirely true—almost. But I decided to let that sleeping dog lie. As I sat there with Ben’s arm wrapped around me and my head cradled against him, I was hit by another sudden wave of exhaustion. “Can we call Sid and then go to bed?”
“Go to bed, yes. But call Sid?”
“I know Captain Abbott said he’s home safe, but I won’t believe it until I can talk to him.” Ben was frowning, so I added an argument that I knew he would find compelling. “I feel incredibly guilty about what happened to him, and I feel responsible for making sure that he’s okay.”
Sure enough, Ben nodded. “I’ll see if we can use the captain’s office for a few minutes. Just remember to make it short and sweet, and don’t give away any sensitive information.”
But I was too tired to remember what was sensitive information and what wasn’t. “Will you make the call with me? I’m afraid I’ll screw it up otherwise. After all, I’m just a civilian,” I quipped.
He smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Sure thing. But then it’s time for you to get some sleep.”
• • •
ParaTrain Internship, Day Five
Fittingly, it was raining. A small group of us had gathered under a makeshift roof of umbrellas to witness Braz’s coffin being transported from somewhere inside the hospital to the hearse waiting in the driveway—the same driveway where I had followed Braz’s instructions to catch a cab. It felt as though years had passed since then.
Ben and Pete stood on either side of me, holding umbrellas over the three of us. Dr. Washington was there, as well as Skeet, Captain Abbott, Kai, and Asa. The captain was striking in his dress blues. The rest of us had dressed in the best civilian clothes we had, which unfortunately in my case was yoga pants and Ben’s sweatshirt. I felt disrespectful, but I was also relatively certain that Braz would forgive me.
I lost track of how long we had been waiting, but it didn’t matter. Time seemed meaningless as we all stood there, frozen in place. My mind drifted back to the phone call Ben and I had placed to Sid the night before. Sid had been his usual, easy-going self, pretending—for my benefit, no doubt—that he’d taken his detention by the FBI completely in stride. I knew better, having connected to him through our portal, but I let him believe that I was buying his act.
I apologized profusely, but Sid said that after he found out they were holding him because of something having to do with me, he felt much better. “Although I recently learned that you live a secret life of mystery and intrigue, you are also possibly the most harmless person I’ve ever met,” he’d said. “At least then I knew it must be some kind of misunderstanding, and that it would get sorted out sooner or later.”
Ben and Sid had then engaged in some businesslike conversation about the situation. Ben checked to make sure Sid had been treated properly and asked if he needed anything else, while Sid thanked Ben for making sure he’d been a VIP prisoner from the outset and for protecting his family. I was surprised at how congenial their interaction seemed given the circumstances, but both men seemed to be going out of their way to be pleasant.
Although I wouldn’t feel fully at ease until I saw Sid in person and in one piece, my relief at hearing his voice had been enough for the moment. I had collapsed into sleep shortly afterwards, and although Ben practically had to drag me out of bed for Braz’s send-off, I’d made it in time. The rain softened the world around us as we waited.
We all turned when Braz’s casket was wheeled out onto the sidewalk. There was an orderly at each corner of the metal cart. Once it reached us, Ben and Pete gave me their umbrellas to hold. Then they joined Skeet, Captain Abbott, and Dr. Washington in serving as pallbearers, lifting the casket and helping the hearse driver place it in the back of the vehicle. Before they closed the back doors, Captain Abbott said, “If anyone wants to say goodbye, now’s the time.”
Not even sure what I was doing, I walked to the back of the hearse and handed the umbrellas back to Pete and Ben. I pressed my fingertips to my lips, then to the edge of the casket. “Bye, Braz,” I whispered. “I’m sorry we couldn’t keep you longer.”
I stepped back. No one else stepped forward, so after a respectful period of time, the driver closed the back doors. Skeet spoke briefly to the driver and handed him an envelope before the man got in and drove slowly away. “Making sure Braz gets the royal treatment,” Skeet explained as he rejoined our group.
None of us moved as we watched the hearse pull around the driveway. I couldn’t help thinking of my mother, and although Ben’s expression was implacable, I knew that the whole scene must have been bringing up some difficult memories about his father. I slid my arm around his waist and pressed myself against the cool length of his wool suit.
He wrapped his free arm around my shoulder, leaned down, and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “You?”
“Fine,” he said, but he couldn’t smooth all of the tension from his voice.
Suddenly, I saw four familiar-looking marines quick-march out of the lobby doors accompanied by a small, dark-haired woman. My breath left me in a whoosh.
My head spun around as I looked first at Skeet, then at Captain Abbott—but they were watching her, too. I turned to Ben. “That’s her!”
A dark emotion clouded his expression. “I know.”
I looked back at Jennifer. The hearse driver had parked and was opening the back doors. She practically fell on top of the coffin while the marines stood at attention nearby.
Anger erupted inside of me. I pulled my arm from around Ben and lurched forward, prepared to run across the driveway to her—and do what, I didn’t know. But I knew it was wrong that she should be allowed to pay her last respects to the man she had murdered—a man who had cared so much for her, and who was such a better human being than she was.
But Ben was quick. He caught me in his arms as I tried to run, holding me close to him and murmuring in my ear: “She has a right to say goodbye.”
“No she doesn’t!” I tried to wrest myself from his embrace. “She murdered him!”
Pete came around the other side of me, and he and Ben lifted me by the elbows and practically carried me back towards the lobby doors. “Let go of me!” I demanded, but they seemed not to hear. I cast a desperate glance back towards the hearse just in time to see Jennifer pull herself away from the coffin and wipe her eyes on her sleeve.
Before I knew it, Pete, Ben, and I were in an elevator going down. I knew I was glowering, but I felt completely justified. Ben and Pete exchange a knowing glance, and rivulets of tears once again began to flow down my cheeks.
The elevator doors opened, and Ben held out his elbow. Because there was absolutely nothing else for me to do, I took it.
“Hang in there, sis. I’ll see you guys later,” Pete said.
“Will do,” Ben replied. We turned and began walking down the hall.
Once we reached our room, I threw myself facedown on the bed. I was a boiling cauldron of emotions: grief over Braz and my mother; concern for Ben and his grief over his father; and outrage that Jennifer was allowed to get anywhere near Braz’s coffin. I was also sick and tired of being captive in a subbasement, and being told what to do and what not to do.
“Why did you stop me?” I yowled at Ben.
“You know why.” He sat on the edge of the bed and began rubbing my back.
“But she’s….”
“I agree with you. But that wasn’t the time or the place.”
I knew he was right, but still I didn’t like it. His backrub was calming me, but I couldn’t decide whether to let him continue or to push him away and return to my volcan
o of righteous outrage. I turned my head to look at him as my tears began to abate. “I’m so sick of this, all of it. Can we please go home now?”
He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the last of the tears from my cheeks. “I’ll tell you what,” he said gently. “We’re all packed, so yes, we can leave. But Skeet wants to take us out to lunch. After that, we can go home. Do you think you can manage a while longer?”
“Oh, hell.” I buried my face in the pillow.
“What is it?”
I leaned up on my elbows. “I just… I don’t know. I guess I was hoping to go straight home. Plus, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Skeet.”
Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” I began. “How well do you know him?”
“Not very. As I told you, we work with him on occasion, treating some of his research subjects. We talk about cases to coordinate care, but that’s the extent of our contact. My mother is good friends with him, though. They went to college together.”
“Oh, they did?”
“Yes. I would have mentioned it before if I’d thought it was important.”
“No, it’s okay. I guess I’m glad to hear that, actually. I had a conversation with Skeet that made me a little bit uncomfortable, but if your mother trusts him, then….”
“Uncomfortable, how?”
I told him about how Skeet had offered me first a job, then a position as a paid guinea pig in his research projects.
Ben’s body tensed like a mousetrap that had just been set.
“I told him no—about the job, anyway.” I grabbed his hand and kissed the tip of his thumb. He relaxed slightly.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He rolled me onto my side so that I was facing him. “What about the research? Did it interest you?”
“I’m not sure.” I clenched and unclenched my hands. “It’s interesting, yes, and sounds like it has some potentially good applications—but also some potentially bad ones. And I while think Skeet means well, I can’t be sure. I don’t want to be a part of something that could end up hurting people down the line.”