Discovering Normal (14 page)

Beth took in all of the faces one more time. “What are we up against here, Deej? Are these the only people there?”

George shook his head
and spoke the answer
. “Not by a long shot. These are just the newest and the ones Holden seems to be keeping close at hand. There are more. We’re estimating that there are about a hundred, though they’re not as readily seen. Our leak believes that
they’re involved in some sort of
computer generated graphics--making films or photos or something. More propaganda to aid the cause I
suppose
. They’ve probably been with Holden long enough to know what he wants and just hang back and give it to him. He’s most likely been whipping up a following for a couple of years and somehow he’s recently found backing.”

“Backing?” Beth met his eyes.

“There’s money in this, Beth. Fortresses’ in the middle of the sea don’t come cheap. Someone’s helping him. The main difference between Bryan Holden and his father is the fact that Harold always knew it was just BS--he figured if he could milk it, then it was fair game. Bryan Holden seems to believe he really is the divine son of the father. He’s either found a wealthy fool who believes it too, or a wealthy fool who wants a front to take the fall when it all comes crashing down.”

“And Chris?”
”Pure revenge we think. Pure and simple vindication.”

“Why now?”

George shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Holden wasn’t old enough, or capable enough before.” He set his glass down and ran his hand through his sandy hair. “And the timing seems kind of ironic. We think someone has been monitoring your actions pretty closely for a while. Holden probably got wind of the separation and felt that Chris was finally vulnerable enough for them to strike.”

Beth grabbed the material of George’s placard-collar shirt. “Are my children safe?”

George covered her hands and held them still and steady. “We have guards on them and your parents--Chris’ family too. They’re hanging back not to be seen. Some are even planted at Noah’s school and Audrey’s pre-school as dishwashers and teacher’s aides. Your kids are safe.”

Beth let go of George’s shirt.
What was she doing?
She wasn’t an agent anymore. She was a housewife who knew more about gelatin molds than arsenals. She spun to face Deej. “I can’t do this. I can’t be responsible for this. I’m not ready. I’m not prepared. I’ll slip up and they’ll kill him.”

Deej grabbed her arm that had been flailing as she spoke. “They’re going to kill him anyway, Bethie. You’re the only chance he has. You’re the only chance your children have of seeing their father again.”

Tears that she’d fought publicly since the day she’d arrived here to this hellish place, tumbled from her eyes. “I can’t do it, Deej. Bryan Holden was just a boy when I was in Jaelyn. He won’t know if you send someone more capable in and pretend it’s me.”

Deej gave a resounding, “Ha!” He threw the photos he had gathered up to the table. “Bethie, you’re smarter than that. That guy has probably studied your face every hour of his life for twelve years. He’ll know in an instant and then Chris is dead for sure. You are the only one who can get through, just like you got through when Gloria Tweed was inside. We don’t want a bloody standoff this time. We just want you to get in, convince Holden that you’re still
Farley-Fauna the divine
, find Chris and play along just long enough for us to
locate
evidence to put this maniacal Holden family out of commission for once and for all.”

Beth massaged her temples and struggled to think. She wasn’t brave anymore. She wasn’t an idealistic twenty-one-year-old fresh out of a cushy college with a
dual psychology/criminal profiling
degree and determined to rid the world of injustice. She had children now and the saving of the world should be the responsibility of someone else.

Beth felt George’s palm against her back. “You don’t have to do it, Beth.”

She could almost feel Deej’s bristle behind her.

Beth spun around in her chair and faced him. “Tell me the truth. What are Chris’ chances if I don’t go in?”

Deej shook his head.

“And what are his chances if I do?”

Deej slid the photos back into the manila envelope from where they came. “Slightly better.”

Beth turned and looked into the concern of George’s eyes. He was a good man--but he wasn’t the father of her children. “Then I guess I have to proceed with those odds.”
             
 

Chapter 15

Interesting reaction.

The Most Masterful dimmed the observation screen and lowered to the lounge in his sanctuary. Stoddard-of-handsome-face wasn’t the man The Most Masterful had pegged him to be.

Oh, The Most Masterful had expected the initial resistance
--
the fighting stance and sailor’s tongue. He’d even expected the apathy--the pleas for it to be done because in actuality it already was.

But, once the seed had been sown and the bricks laid, The Most Masterful had predicted compliance. He’d studied psychological techniques, seen enough of his father’s teachings to know that generally the tortured and manipulated conformed because no one truly wanted to disappear.

But Stoddard seemed to.

He glanced back to
the screen and the broken body
lying comatose and stoic on a hard bed.

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Stoddard hung on long enough for him to witness Farley-Fauna’s return to the fold. Then Stoddard could leave this
world;
take his payment in the next. His children would be dealt with someday because they’d have to be--The Most Masterful had no choice but to ensure their elimination or at least their demise--but that was still years away when everything would become so clear. Then the line would be drawn, the evil blood halted and the earth and all eternity would be poised to
achieve what it always should’ve--
The Master’s vision of Flora-Sky.

Movement flickered on the screen.
Chanta-Clara entered Stoddard’s room, set a tray beside him filled with a heaping plate of rack of lamb and parsnips. Stoddard flinched only slightly, probably remembering that it was she who gave the pleasure that terrified his soul--then lay still once again.

He was beyond even attempting to whack the tray down or dive because he was, above all other things, starving for nourishment of his very human being.

Chanta-Clara slipped from the room without touching him and Stoddard’s eyes fell closed and he was still.

The Most Masterful glanced at the clock in his chamber--a seafaring contraption with a loud tick that he’d found in a tacky thrift shop, but enjoyed nevertheless--and smiled.

He lay back against the lounge and tuned in music with a remote control device. Puccini.

He closed his eyes just as Stoddard had. All was right with Flora-Sky. Gleaming weapons waited in a bolted room--weapons that the enemy had used to destroy twelve years before. The Most Masterful ensured that they’d fallen into the right hands this time--the breaching shotguns and Heckler and Koch MP-5SD’s with that wonderful Infrared visible laser. And there were more too--more than he could even fathom--
which
his army, though still few in numbe
r
but strong in ingenuity had learned to master.

All that was important was that justice would arrive.

It didn’t matter that it had been a long time in coming.

C
hapter 16

They flew from Amsterdam to Stockholm and then boarded an undescript old Navy vessel to charter the Baltic Sea. Rain had been falling for hours, but Beth couldn’t do more than sit under an archway and stare over the deck.

She’d eaten little, smoked about a million and two cigarettes. It was easy to focus on the things that could go
wrong;
on the way she could botch everything and have the rest of her life to live with it. Or she could die trying and leave her children virtual orphans. But no matter the years that’d slipped away or the ambivalence that’d set in--she and Chris had originally been partners and above all else, a good law enforcement officer always protected their partner.

“I never know where I’ll find you.” George had appeared and slid onto the step beside her.

Beth crushed her cigarette beneath her combat boot. “I seem to be riveted to the water these days. It’s so huge.”

“It is.” George was quiet as he watched the dark, murky waves hit the side of the ship.

It was a strange situation. She was on the way to rescue her estranged husband with her would-be lover in tow. “George, I’ve truly appreciated that you’ve been here. I know that beyond duty, this has to be hard for you.”

He shrugged and folded his hands. “I
am
an agent.” He turned to face her. “And I’m also a man in love and I’d give anything if you didn’t have to do this.”

She reached for his hand, folded their fingers and rested them on her thigh. “I know.”

“I believe that Deej and his contacts are the best, Beth, you know that. But I’m not sure they’re right about this. Part of me isn’t even sure
whether or not
Chris is alive. I’ve seen decoys and tricks too many times.”

“I can’t think that, George. I have to believe that he is.”

“And what if he is? What if you reach him, get him out, get him home, then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, then what? Do things change or remain the same? Do you stay in Old Saybrook or run back to Canada?”

Beth loosened her grip, but George
tightened it. “It’s a legitimate question. These certainly aren’t the same circumstances as seven weeks ago when you left.”

“No, they’re not, but
it doesn’t change the fact that Chris and I aren’t good together.”

George studied her for a minute, reading her eyes, trying so hard to read her thoughts
she was sure
. He kissed her then and she let him because she needed to not think and just feel.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I always have. I’ll make you happy.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

George pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to go in. I’ll do it. I’ll find Chris and I’ll get him out and I’ll get him home. I’ll do that for you, Beth. But then I want you to divorce him and marry me.”

Beth sat up and reached for the pack of cigarettes beside her. “We can’t barter my husband’s safety, George. There can’t be terms and conditions imposed. He’s my husband, he’s my children’s father, he’s a fellow agent and his best hope is me.”

George snatched her hand and kissed the back. “Marry me. As soon as possible. Promise me that and I’ll feel safe in backing you because I’ll know you’re mine.”

“George, please. You’re pushing again and this isn’t the night to push.”

He sucked in a breath, rubbed his forehead and looked back to the sea. “You’re right and I’m sorry, but you see it as only a short time since you decided to leave; I see it as thirteen years since I first saw you. I’ve been waiting all that time, Beth. There hasn’t been another woman who has even come close. We’re right for each other and you need to see that. You chose the wrong guy.”

Beth took a pull from the cigarette and exhaled a long slow breath. “Let’s just get the wrong guy home now, George.”

Deej’s unmistakable heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Beth turned to see him emerge with dossier in hand. “We’ll be docking just before dawn. It may be a good idea to get some sleep, Bethie.”

She shook her head and stretched her arms in front of her. “I can’t sleep. I’ve tried, but I’ve never been so
non-tired
in my entire life.”

“Then I guess I may as well brief you on what will happen.”

Deej stepped through the space Beth and George made between them and leaned against the rail.

George stood up then. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit this one out. I’ve already been briefed and I don’t think I want to hear it again. I’ll say goodnight.”