Fires of Autumn (37 page)

Casey
wasn’t paying much attention to what Peter was doing. She was crunching on her
peanuts now, feeling much better than she had earlier.   When he hung up the
phone, she pointed ahead.

“I’m at
the next off ramp,” she told him.

Peter didn’t
say anything.  They drove right past the off ramp.  Casey, with peanuts in her
mouth, turned to look at him.

“That was
my exit,” she said, not particularly upset. “You can get off at the next one.”

Peter was
looking straight ahead. “We’re going to take a slight detour.”

She still
wasn’t particularly upset or particularly concerned. “Where?”

“You’ll
see.”

Since she
was feeling much better with the introduction of salty food, she didn’t really
care.  She had no reason to feel uncertainty or fear.  So she sat back and
crunched her food, peeling the bologna into strips and sucking it down, then
drinking most of the chocolate milk in just a few swallows.  By the time she
was satisfied and her stomach was somewhat settled, she realized that they were
pretty far out of town and continuing to head east.  She looked curiously at
Peter.

“Where in
the hell are we going?” she asked.

His eyes
were still forward. “It’s not too much farther.”

“
Where
is not too much farther?”

Peter
didn’t reply and Casey sighed heavily. “Peter, I’m really not feeling all that
great,” she said. “Today is not the day for a road trip.”

Peter
suddenly took the off ramp onto Highway 50 to the east of Dulles International
Airport and headed into the heavily wooded and rolling hills of Virginia’s
horse country. 

“It’ll
just be a few minutes,” he said patiently. “Sit back and relax.  It’s a
beautiful day.”

Casey just
shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Did Colt put you up to this?” she asked.
“He knows I don’t feel well. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

“Just
another couple of minutes.”

Casey gave
up. She sat back in the seat and pulled out her bag of goodies, now crunching
in the dill pickle.  The truth was that it really was a lovely day and the
winter-kissed land was covered with a layer of melting snow.  Since they were
in horse country, every so often they’d drive by a field of furry horses, out
in the cold and enjoying the weak sunshine.  Casey was just starting to kick
back and doze when Peter suddenly slowed down and took a left into a pair of
big stone and iron gates.  He pulled up to the intercom and said his name when
someone answered.  The giant gates lurched open and Casey sat up, suddenly
interested in their surroundings.

“What is
this place?” she asked.

Peter
pulled down the half mile long gravel driveway, pointing to the big mansion
looming ahead.

“Have you
ever seen anything like this?” he asked.

Casey
shook her head, focusing on the massive French Colonial brick mansion lying
directly ahead. It looked very old, with massive columns supporting a big white
portico.  The driveway wound through paddocks with big white fences, keeping
horses corralled in finely kept fields.  Her attention was diverted when the
pulled alongside a fat, hairy mare and her little colt, munching grass along
the fence line.  Casey poked Peter on the arm.

“Stop,”
she demanded. “I want to see the baby!”

He pulled
to a stop and she opened the door, climbing out of the warm car into the chilly
air so she could go up to the fence and pet the little horse.  She grinned as
the colt, no more than a couple of weeks old, nibbled curiously at her fingers
while his mother crunched winter grass. 

“Hey!”
Peter yelled at her. “It’s cold out there. Get back in the car!”

Giving the
little horse a final little scratch, she jumped back in the car and slammed the
door.  Peter resumed their progression down the gravel drive, taking the
roundabout driveway and ending up in front of the big white portico of the home
with its massive Doric columns.  Peter put the car in park and turned it off,
bailing out of the car before Casey could ask him any questions.   As Peter
went around to open her door, a small man in an expensive suit and bright white
hair emerged from the front door.

Casey
climbed out of the car to find the man standing in front of her.  Even at her
average height, she was still taller than he was.  He immediately extended a
hand to her.

“Ms.
Cleburne?” he greeted. “I’m Victor Meade. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.
I’ve heard so much about you.”

Casey
shook the man’s hand. “That’s nice of you to say,” she said, looking around.
“Uh… it’s nice to meet you also.”

“Thank
you.”

“Your home
is lovely.”

“Thank
you, again.” Meade didn’t let go of her hand; he continued to stare at her,
pulling her apart, digesting her. “I had heard you were beautiful but I had no
idea just how beautiful you really were,” he said, almost wistfully. “Colt is a
very lucky man.”

Casey
fixed him in the eye. “You know Colt?”

“Very
well. I know his father, too.”

Casey was
growing more confused by the moment. She glanced at Peter before looking back
at Meade. “Uh…,” she began, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not really clear
as to why I’m here.”

Meade held
her hand as he led her up the steps and on into the house. “I’ve wanted to meet
you for the longest time,” he said, avoiding answering her statement. As they
passed through the enormous front doors, he pointed at it. “So you like my
home? Those doors are original to the house.  You’ll see how heavy they are. 
They don’t make doors like that anymore.”

Casey
couldn’t help but notice that no one would tell her why she was here. She
wasn’t frightened in the least but she was annoyed.  It was a struggle to
remain pleasant.

“When was
the house built?” she asked simply to be polite.

“1767,”
Meade replied. “Well, at least parts of it were.  My family has owned this home
for two hundred and forty five years.  We even owned the property that Dulles
Airport is sitting on.”

“Impressive,”
Casey looked around the giant two-story entry with new interest. “I noticed
your horses out in the paddocks.  They’re beautiful.”

Meade
smiled at her. “We breed Thoroughbreds,” he told her. “The finest. Do you like
horses?”

“Love
them.”

“Good
girl,” he patted the hand he was still holding and began leading her into
another part of the house. “Are you hungry?”

Casey
instinctively put a hand to her stomach. “Not really,” she admitted. “Thank
you, though.”

Meade had
pulled her into a room off the entry, an enormous room of books and leather and
antiques, smelling heavily of tobacco.   He indicated a fat leather chair for
her to sit in, one that happened to be positioned in front of the gently
snapping fire.  Casey glanced back at Peter, with great confusion on her face,
as she sat down.  The fire felt good on her legs.

Meade went
to the sterling coffee service that was sitting on the gigantic antique desk. 
He picked up a fine china cup. “Coffee, Ms. Cleburne?”

She shook
her head. “No, thank you.”

Meade
poured a cup for himself and took the chair across from Casey.  He was smiling
as he looked at her.

“You
really are beautiful,” he muttered. “Poised, lovely, intelligent and graceful.
Now I see why Colt is so smitten. I don’t blame him.”

Casey
fixed him in the eye. “Can you please tell me why I’m here?”

Meade
sipped his coffee.  “It would be my pleasure,” he said. “This all must be very
confusing.”

“And
annoying.”

Meade
grinned as he began his speech. “Ms. Cleburne,” he said, his voice softening.
“You are part of the great American elite. Your ancestor was a great Civil War
general.”

“Yes, he
was.”

“So was
mine,” Meade said. “In fact, I have great generals on both side of my family. 
On my father’s side, we descend from the great Civil War general George Meade. 
On my mother’s side, my grandmother was the granddaughter of U.S. Grant.”

Casey’s
eyebrows lifted.  “Wow,” she said. “That’s quite a pedigree.”

Meade
nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “But with great heritage comes great
responsibility.  I’m sure you are aware of that.”

She
shrugged. “In a sense,” she said. “I’ve always been very proud of my heritage
but unlike you, I didn’t have great bloodlines on both sides. I would imagine
much more was expected from you than could have ever been expected from me.”

Meade’s
grin returned. “Well said,” he replied. “Colt bears a great heritage, also.  Phil
Sheridan is inarguably one of the greatest generals the American army has ever
seen. Colt very proudly carries on that heritage in that he is a flawless and
brave decision maker.  He is the most courageous and resourceful man I have
ever met and it has been a sincere privilege to work with him.”

“Where did
you work with him?” Casey asked.

“I still
work with him,” Meade said quietly. “I am assuming he told you that he works
for another entity in addition to the Secret Service.”

Casey felt
as if she had been hit in the gut. Shocked, she struggled not to react. 
There
are a lot of people who want to see me dead.
  It was all she could think of
at the moment. She didn’t want to betray Colt or give him away.   More than
that, it occurred to her that Peter must be in on this as well since he brought
her to Meade’s front door.  Peter was a part of something, although she
couldn’t guess what. She was beginning to get very frightened.

“What do
you mean?” she was trying so very hard not to blow anything.

Meade sipped
at his coffee, glancing at Peter, who was standing behind Casey. “Colt Sheridan
is a spy, Ms. Cleburne,” he said frankly. “Although I suspect he has already
told you, I admire your determination not to betray him.  I understand.  Colt
is one of the very best I have ever seen and he works in ways that normal men
cannot.  His assignments are always flawlessly executed, which is why we put
him so close to Russ Talbot.  You are President Talbot’s personal assistant,
are you not? It was Colt’s job to get close to you. I understand he has
performed that assignment flawlessly as well.”

Casey’s
blood ran cold.  The man was speaking smugly and that infuriated her. Shaken,
and not particularly well, she began to tremble.

 “Colt and
I love each other,” she said, hoping she wasn’t divulging anything too
critical.  Still, she didn’t really care if she was or not. “He’s a wonderful
man and we’re very much in love. Now, I would appreciate it if you would come
to the purpose of this visit. I’m not feeling particularly well and need to go
home.”

Meade
seemed concerned. “I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.  “I didn’t know you
weren’t well.  Perhaps you should lie down for awhile?”

Casey
shook her head. “Please tell me why I am here so I can go home.”

Meade
could see she was trying very hard to be brave.  He respected that.

“Of
course,” he said. “You are here because I need to emphasize to Colt how
important it is for him to finish his assignment with Talbot.  Apparently, you
are seriously distracting him from that task.  Colt needs to understand that
nothing can distract him from what he must finish.”

Casey’s
quivering was growing worse.  She was starting to feel nauseous again.  Knowing
what she did about Colt’s mission from what he had told her, she was feeling
increasingly frightened by the old man’s words.  She cleared her throat softly.

“May I
have some water, please?” she asked.

Meade was
immediately up, going to a sideboard near his desk that contained various
phials of alcohol and water.  He took a cut crystal glass and poured a measure
of water into it.  When he turned to drop a couple of ice cubes into it, he
opened a small box that looked like a snuff container and took a pinch of white
powder and put it in Casey’s glass.  Dropping the ice cubes in it mixed up the
powder so it was undetectable.  Then he turned around and quickly moved to
Casey with the glass of water.

“Here you
are,” he said, almost gently. “I’m very sorry you’re not feeling well.”

She drank
almost the entire glass, licking her lips. “I’ll be okay,” she waved him off.
“Can you please come to the point of my visit?”

Meade
reclaimed his seat. “Men in love are strange creatures,” he said quietly. “It
tends to blind them to all else.  When we told Colt to get close to you, we had
no idea that he would cross the line and fall in love with you. Colt has gotten
close to many people in the course of his duties, some of them women.  He’s
even slept with some of them to gain his wants.  But something happened when he
slept with you – would you care to elaborate on why you are so different from
the rest?”

Casey was
outraged. “Absolutely not,” she snapped. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve
asking me that question, and you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve bringing me
here without my permission.” She stood up and whirled on Peter, standing a few
feet away.  “And you – what’s your deal with all of this? Does Colt know you’ve
taken me here?”