PART 1
She turns to me sometimes and asks me what I'm dreaming
And I realize I must have gone a million miles away
And I ask her how she knew to reach out for me that moment
And she smiles because it's understood there are no words to say
--All About Soul by Billy Joel
To an outsider, the city would have looked dead and deserted. To a trained observer, the shadows and darkened huts told a different story. People were hiding ... running from the horrors of the night. It was at night that the attacks came. In this town off the riverbed, the night was something to fear.
That was why he had come. His good friend and colleague, Paul, had told him about this little problem and who was responsible for it -- Kevin Drako. Drako was a mercenary, much like himself. The difference between the two was the fact that Kevin Drako didn't have a conscience, while Kermit Griffin did.
Kermit had been in this remote village for a couple of days now, hoping to find a clue to Drako's location. He had to put a stop to Kevin's little game before the village's entire population was wiped out. He had to stop him before Drako released into the water the virus he'd stolen from the Army's biological warfare labs, a virus powerful enough to kill everyone within a 19-mile radius. Luckily, his prayers had been answered. He had found Drako's hideout, and was headed there tonight to put a stop to this madness once and for all.
His tread so quiet it did nothing to disturb the unnatural stillness that surrounded him, Kermit crept up to the window of the small hut just outside the village. Glancing in, he saw that the man he pursued was standing near a small table, sipping a glass of a liquid that looked like red wine. Satisfied that he had found his quarry, Griffin made his way toward the hut's back entrance. Stealthily, he eased open the door, sweeping the interior with an assessing gaze to ensure there would be no interference with his job. Once he was positive no one was lying in wait for him, he stepped into the dirt-floored building and made his way toward the main room. Kermit peered around the corner, and saw Drako, his back turned to Kermit, talking with two of his men. He would have to take the other two out before he could get the man he had been sent to eliminate. He checked the silencer on his gun; once satisfied he was ready, he advanced around the corner and fired.
The bullet struck the man to Drako's left in the back of the head, and Kermit aimed his weapon toward Kevin's remaining man before anyone knew what had hit them. Before the other two could get their weapons ready, Kermit pulled the trigger, taking the man out, leaving only himself and Drako.
By the time Kermit trained his weapon toward Drako, the other man's glass had been set down while his gun had been raised and pointed at Kermit. "Put the gun down, Kevin. You're finished here."
"On the contrary, my dear friend, I think I'm just getting started." Amusement entered Drako's ice blue eyes as he took in the deadlock created by each holding the other at gunpoint. "It appears that we are at a stalemate."
Kermit smirked and tilted his head to the side. He quickly pulled the trigger, then watched as the bullet tore into the other man's skull. "Don't count on it," he said as he moved toward the table. Kermit stepped over Drako's body, then rifled through the notes scattered on the table. All Drako's schematics and other documents concerning the virus were there, including the map showing the location of the vial that he had already planted.
Digging further into the pile of papers, he came across a small picture. His gaze lingered on the three children and woman in the photo for a moment before Kermit whirled toward the man at his feet and saw the glimmer of a wedding band on Drako's left hand. "Damn it," he cursed. "They told me that there was no one who would miss you."
Hoping that one day he might be able to tell the other man's family what had really happened in this jungle, Kermit placed the photo in his pocket. Kevin had a little boy about the same age as his own son. Kermit closed his eyes for a moment, but he could not get the happy faces of those who loved Kevin Drako out of his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit came awake in a rush, the images of the past floating from his subconscious to the forefront of his mind. Taking a deep breath to calm his rapid heartbeat, he prayed that he had not woken the woman beside him.
Karen turned onto her side, her movement visible to Kermit out of the corner of his eye. For a long moment after he turned to look at her, he thought she'd stirred in her sleep. Then blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze questioning him before her groggy words did. "Are you all right?"
He calculated the odds she'd remember this with any clarity in the morning, then gave what had become his stock response in the wake of nightmares. "Yeah. Just having some trouble sleeping." For reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, he added, "Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep."
Even half awake, concern shadowed Karen's eyes as she offered, "I'm here if you need to talk --" A yawn cut off whatever else she might have meant to say.
The notion of taking her up on that offer occurred to him fleetingly, but he shook his head. "Go back to sleep."
"You sure?" she mumbled, already losing the battle to remain awake.
Seeing her eyes start to close, Kermit didn't reply as he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her. Instead, he watched her fall asleep and listened to the steady, comforting sound of her breathing as it crossed the threshold from wakefulness to slumber. Reaching out a hand, he smoothed Karen's hair back from her face, allowing his fingers to linger in the silken tresses. His still racing heart began to slow as he studied her serene features and wondered, not for the first time, how this woman's presence could have such a calming effect on him.
Hope, he realized as he withdrew his hand. Her choice to be with him gave him the kind of hope for the future he'd once thought a distant memory ... even now, as he struggled to keep at bay the vision of the faces of Kevin Drako's widow and children.
As if some unerring instinct that he needed the reassurance of her touch drove her in her sleep, Karen curled against him. He shifted enough to lie on his back, one arm around her, her head nestled against his shoulder. Aware sleep would be a long time in returning, if it did so at all, Kermit settled his chin lightly against the top of her head and waited for morning to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Enter." Karen Simms didn't bother to look up from the stack of monthly reports she was reviewing as she heard her office door creak open on its hinges, then shut behind the officer who had just knocked.
"Captain, I --" Peter Caine fell silent.
Uncertain whether the cause was his unusual reluctance to continue speaking or something odd in the quality of the two words he'd uttered, Simms looked up. The detective standing against her door appeared decidedly uncomfortable, and she stifled a groan as she turned her attention to him. <What now?
"It might be nothing," he hedged, hesitance and anxiety warring in his tone. "Or it might be huge."
"Whatever it is, spit it out, Detective." Karen's words were sharper than she'd intended, but he didn't seem to notice.
"I took a call a couple of minutes ago. The guy wouldn't give his name. Asked for me by name, said he had information on a murder, but once he had me on the line he refused to give me any details." Peter paused, frowning, as though trying to order his thoughts.
"I presume there's a point to this story?" Simms prodded when he failed to pick up his train of thought.
"Wish I knew." Peter sighed. "Captain, this guy could be a kook, in which case what I'm about to do now probably isn't such a hot idea -- but if there's a chance he's telling the truth then, well, you'll probably want to take that call." He inclined his head toward the light flashing on the phone atop the desk. "Says he'll talk only to the precinct commander ... that the killer's a cop. I don't know, Captain, I can't put my finger on what it is exactly, but there's something real weird about this one. It doesn't feel right to me."
"All right, I'll bear that in mind." She waited until Peter had slipped back out into the bullpen, then lifted the receiver and depressed the lighted button on her phone. "This is Captain Simms."
"I wanted to warn you, Captain, that your precinct is harboring a murderer." A trace of venom crept into the bland voice as the man went on, "One of your officers shot a man in cold blood, blew his head off. Close range. Probably claimed he was just doing his job. He wasn't -- it was premeditated."
Simms thought back, mentally reviewing each use of deadly force by one of her officers since she'd taken over the 101st. None even remotely fit the profile this unnamed informant was providing. "Sir, in order to open an investigation, I'm going to need a few details from you. Let's start with names and dates, then proceed to whatever evidence you may have or whatever you witnessed."
"Not everything just yet, Captain Simms," rejoined the caller. "I'll contact you again when I'm sure it won't endanger me to do so."
"And I'm supposed to take what you've just said at face value, with no facts to back it up?" Karen ignored the chill that crept down her spine as she spoke, choosing to attribute it to an air conditioning system that had been a bit overenthusiastic at times over the past few days. "I need more than that to launch an investigation."
"Ask Kermit Griffin what he remembers of Kevin Drako."
``````````````````````````````````````````````````
For what seemed like ages, Karen sat staring at the phone. The man on
the outside line had spewed venom that kept her at bay, not to mention
that the poisonous words she had heard had been directed at her lover,
Kermit. Karen wasn't naive enough to think that Kermit hadn't done some
things in his past that he still regretted, but she also knew that he never
talked about much of what he had seen and done. However, no matter what
he had done at some time in the distant
past, she couldn't imagine him killing someone as ruthlessly as the
caller had stated. Kermit would never go out intending to murder
someone, then shoot and kill that person in the cold-blooded manner at
which the stranger had hinted.
One thing was certain -- Karen wouldn't find out anything from this caller until he was good and ready to tell her more. Since he had mentioned Kermit, she needed to find out just what this was all about, she decided, praying that this was all just one big mistake.
Yes, Kermit could be deadly. She had seen his barely leashed capacity for violence on various occasions, yet she had never feared him. He could also be secretive, she reminded herself, but that was his way.
From the moment that they had agreed to take their involvement to the next level, Karen had been determined to accept everything that he was and everything about who he had been. She wouldn't deny that there had been some rough spots -- such as when he had gone off to Vermont without so much as an explanation -- but they had worked through a great deal in order to get to where they were now, a point where they worked well together in their relationship. Throughout her marriage, all had mainly been one-sided; luckily, with Kermit things were different. As private a person as he was, Kermit was willing to give his all to their relationship, and for that Karen was grateful.
Shaking her head in order to clear her thinking, she stood up and gathered her resolve. She would never get any answers if she sat there all day wondering about the sinister phone call she had just taken. Captain Karen Simms was a woman of action, damn it. She was going to get to the bottom of this, if for no other reason than to clear Kermit's name.
Leaving her office, Karen walked directly to Kermit's closed door. As she raised her hand to knock, she took a quick inventory of what she knew so far in preparation for asking the questions she needed to ask. Before her fist could connect with the wooden door, it swung open before her, revealing the target of her current hunt.
Kermit looked at her quizzically, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "Captain, I was just coming to see you, come in."
Despite the gravity of the current situation, Karen felt her lips quirk in amusement at his formality. Aware of the potential their relationship held for the perception of impropriety, they had agreed long ago to *always* treat each other professionally at work. That goal was easier to achieve at some times than at others, she mused, and it seemed that both had felt more need to tone down the familiarity with which they interacted since their involvement became sexual. Somehow, his willingness to accept her position of authority despite their shared knowledge that they were equals in every way only served to make matters worse now. Somehow, the confrontation ahead would be that much harder because she knew her questions had the potential to destroy his future as a police officer.
"If this is about the McMann case, I have the printout now for you to look at."
Karen started, suddenly realizing that he'd closed the door, moved back to his desk, and sat down while she allowed her thoughts to distract her. She had no memory of that, nor did she remember entering his office and ensconcing herself in the visitors' chair beside the desk -- all of which meant she was far more rattled than she cared to admit. "Actually, I'm not here on the McMann case."
Kermit leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the desktop, and removed his glasses. "So what's going on?"
Karen met his eyes, needing to see his reaction to what she was about to say, barely believing she could have reason to use her years of experience reading people's eyes in this fashion. "I got a very strange call today. The caller, a man, stated that he had information on a murder committed by one of our cops."
Placing his glasses back on, Kermit leaned back in his chair, silently hoping she wasn't going to say what he feared she was about to say.
"The caller was very vague, to say the least."
Kermit looked at Karen, almost knowing where this was going to lead. "So what did he tell you?" he asked, schooling his voice to sound calm and neutral.
"Essentially, that he would call me later with further information when he knows that it is safe for him to do so." Karen leaned forward, searching his eyes through the barrier of the dark glasses as she continued. "He did tell me something, though. Something that raises a question I need to ask and get answered before I decide whether or not this caller is just some crazy off the street." She paused, a sharp intake of breath betraying that she lacked the calm she projected.
Kermit slightly bowed his head in response, aware that she needed to know he was with her on this -- whatever *this* was.
"What do you know about a Kevin Drako?"
The world came to a complete stop, and Kermit felt a sudden chill take over his body. However, he remained still, refusing to allow himself to show the shock that coursed through him, yet afraid that Karen could read him well enough that his stupefaction might as well have radiated from his every pore. Questions of his own raced through his brain, questions he wasn't sure he could answer. What should he tell her? What *could* he say in response to her query, especially with the dreams of the night before still swirling in his mind? How far did he dare allow his answer to go? And, above all else, did he really trust Karen -- or himself -- enough to tell her *all* about the secret missions like this one that had occurred during his time as a mercenary?
His better angels told him that she had understood and accepted his past before, so she would be able to handle this now. Then again, the devil on his shoulder reminded him, he had never really gone into graphic detail about what he had done before he joined the department. Kermit couldn't risk the possibility that if she knew the truth she would turn around and leave him as most other women with whom he'd had a relationship had done.
Part of him wanted to be honest with her. The other part wondered if, once she knew the truth, she would be like his son's mother and leave him. <These are different circumstances,> he argued inwardly, seeking to allay his doubt. <Karen's not like Virginia, and it's not like I'm going away for months or years at a time.> Despite what his mind was telling him, Kermit just looked at Karen and shrugged. "Drako? Should I know that name?"
A flicker of pain sparked in Karen's eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. Kermit's heart sank, knowing she could tell that he was hiding something, no matter how well he was concealing that secret.
"Why don't you tell me?" she parried. "The man said that I should ask you about this Drako, Kevin Drako. Would he have any reason to think that you would know the name?"
Kermit shrugged and shook his head.
Karen reached over to lay her hand upon his arm and glanced directly into his eyes, holding his shielded gaze with her own. "Kermit, is there something that I should know? You can tell me, you know that. I want to know what's going on. I want to help, if you'll let me."
Kermit moved his eyes to focus on the hand on his arm, the same hand that he had hoped would one day hold the symbol of their love, and struggled to choose between what his fears and his common sense were telling him. "It's nothing, Karen. Nothing that you need to worry about. I don't know what that man told you, but I can tell you if anything illegal happened I wasn't behind it. That's all there is."
Karen nodded and stood. Before heading out the door, she turned back to Kermit, who quickly shifted his gaze to stare at his computer monitor. "If you need to talk about anything, you know where to find me." He resisted turning in her direction for the moments she remained in the room, relaxing slightly only when he heard his office door close behind her.
~~~~~
Once outside Kermit's office, Karen leaned back against the door for a few seconds, unsure whether to curse him for not being straight with her or herself for expecting anything other than dissembling from him. If she hadn't spent so much time with him over the past couple of years, she would have been fooled. If she was almost anyone else in the precinct, she would have been fooled. Outwardly he had appeared calm and honestly puzzled, but Karen knew better than to believe that when he hadn't even been able to look her in the eye -- and had felt the need to hide his eyes from her.
Straightening, she returned to her own office, her resolve hardening. One way or another, she would get to the bottom of the mystery cloaking a man named Kevin Drako ... and find the event linking him to her lover's past. <Whatever else you may have been once, you're not a murderer, Kermit. I'm going to find a way to prove that ... with or without your help.>
~~~~~
Once he heard Karen's door close down the hall, Kermit shut down his computer and grabbed his Desert Eagle from its hiding place deep within his desk. He had to think, but anywhere within the "Halls of Justice" was not the right place for that activity. After locking up his office, he started the suddenly long walk out of the 101st. Before he could get too far, his progress was halted. "Kermit," Peter began as he walked up to the ex-mercenary.
Kermit didn't turn toward the younger detective, opting to continue his trek toward the stationhouse's front door. "Not now, Caine." The dismissal didn't discourage Peter, he noted, but led to his stride being matched by the other man. Kermit elaborated, "I have something I have to check into. If you need anything see me when I get back in a couple of hours. Until then. . . sit and wait." He hadn't intended for the words to be as harsh as they sounded, but right now he didn't care who he ticked off. The sooner he found out what he needed to know, the better off everyone would be. If his fears were correct, everyone he cared about, perhaps everyone he knew, could be in danger.
As he exited the confines of the station, Kermit left Peter standing just inside the doors of the 101st and gave thanks that his friend hadn't tried to follow him. He had someone to hunt down. He needed answers in order to put right what had happened long ago.
The past haunted him as he walked down the street toward his car, and Kermit allowed himself to get caught up in his darker thoughts. He had always known that one day he would have to face the deeds of his past. He had always known that when he shot and killed Drako, he had left the man's young wife and three children to fend for themselves. But he had eased his conscience by promising himself that he would one day meet up with them and tell them the truth behind Kevin's death. That promise had never been kept, and his failure to follow through on that oath could very well be at the root of what was happening now.
Kermit berated himself for allowing things to get this far, for his own cowardice in shying away from facing Kevin Drako's family. God help him, he had never been able to come up with any form of the truth that could justify the destruction of the perfect father image in a child's mind. How could he have done that to any child when his own son had never known him, had thought his father dead for many years, and likely held on to that same false image?
Even now, when Kevin Drako had come back to haunt him, the thought of Jim brought a measure of joy to Kermit's heart. Little did Jim Hellstrom know that he had met his father, fought beside him, and left a gaping hole deep within his father's heart. Kermit had been so proud of his son when they had fought to get out of that camp in Vermont. He'd been sorely tempted to tell him the truth, but had managed to walk away before he ran the risk of destroying his son's life.
Despite the brief time he had spent getting to know his son, Kermit still wondered what Jim had been told about his supposedly dead father. Had he been told that his father had gone off to save lives? Had he known that his father loved him and hated the fact that he had to go, that his mother had refused to live any longer with the uncertainty of Kermit's lifestyle? Did he hate his father for leaving, blame him for picking his job over the love of his son?
These were questions that Kermit would never get answered, for he would never be able to confront his son about them. Jim was better off without him, just as Drako's sons were better off without their father. Why complicate matters by destroying the perfect father image they carried from childhood? What good would it do, especially years later? Kermit knew that he could never have destroyed any child's image of his or her father. Not only would doing so have destroyed the child, it would have destroyed him as well. But now ... now, if he were to save all that meant anything to him, he might have no other choice.
```````````````````````````
Determined to learn why the specter of Kevin Drako had been raised by Karen's mysterious caller, Kermit turned his thoughts to planning out his next move as he approached his car. First, he had to find out who even knew that he had been in that war-torn country all those years ago. More important, though, than tracking down whoever could have discovered that he had been there was locating the individual who had told the caller about Drako, thus placing in jeopardy every aspect of the life that Griffin had worked so hard to create for himself here. That puzzle would likely be more difficult to solve than one might guess; as far as Kermit knew, the only people who had known about his presence in Drako's hut that night were dead. Well, not Paul, whose job had entailed sending him there in the first place, but Kermit knew that Paul would die before telling anyone, knew the ethical questions raised by this mission had bothered Paul more than anyone else.
With the thought that Paul would take this secret to his grave, Kermit stopped in his tracks, the hand that had just reached into his pocket convulsively gripping his car keys. <Is Paul all right?> he wondered, but quickly discarded that line of thought. Although he had not heard from Blaisdell in more than two years, Kermit knew that Paul would never betray their friendship, no matter what it cost him. Even though he hated to admit it, he knew that Paul would protect him at the expense of his own life. But ... would he reveal Kermit's secrets if doing so meant that his *family* could live?
"No, he wouldn't do that," Kermit told himself, seeking reassurance from the sound of his own voice. "Paul would never have to choose between us. He would never be placed in a position where he would have to choose."
Opening his car door, Kermit shook his head to clear his thinking, then slid behind the wheel and inserted the key into the ignition. This line of thought in which he was indulging would get him nowhere, he realized. He had to investigate how the caller had found out about Drako. He needed to know everything before he could confront his past.
Despite acknowledging the need to take action, so many questions still ran through his mind. Who had been on the other end of Karen's phone call? Who had told that man what Kermit had done? And, nagging at the corners of his mind, what had happened to that family he had torn apart in a single instant by putting a bullet through Drako's head?
Frustrated, Kermit slammed his hand on the steering wheel, then reached for his cell phone. After dialing a number committed to memory months before, he drummed his fingers impatiently against the wheel until the call connected.
"Hello," came the distracted voice on the other end.
Kermit let a small smile creep across his face. "Mac, I need your help. Meet me at the usual place in an hour." He listened to his long-time friend try to get out of the meeting, which only increased Kermit's pent-up anger. "Listen, I don't care what you have planned or with whom, just be there in one hour." Kermit ended the call, then started the engine. He vowed that he would soon start to get the answers he needed. Unanswered questions got people killed, which was something he could not let happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Karen stared into space, drumming her fingers on her desktop, as she tried to come up with a way that she could find the answers she so desperately needed without further ensnaring Kermit in the danger her caller might pose. Whom could she go to in hopes of getting answers? One name entered her mind, perhaps that of the only person who might have a solution to this dilemma of how she could go about putting the puzzle together, and Karen picked up her phone and dialed the number.
A calm voice answered, "Hello."
"Annie, I was wondering what you were doing for lunch today." Unable to keep the emotions raised by the mysterious call out of her voice, Karen added, "I was thinking that maybe I could come over and take you out."
She could almost see Annie Blaisdell smiling on the other end of the line. "What did Kermit do this time?"
Karen felt the knot that had been in her stomach since midway through her conversation with Kermit ease a bit as she let out a laugh, thinking that it was so much like Annie to recognize a stressful situation and find a way to lighten the tension. "Nothing. Well, at least that's what I'm trying to get sorted out. I'll explain when I see you. Is lunch all right with you?"
"I'll be ready in ten minutes," Annie answered.
"I'll be there in twenty. And Annie, thanks," Karen stated as she hung up the phone. Grateful for friends like Annie, she managed a small smile. If anyone could help her figure out Kermit, it was Annie. And if nothing else came of talking to her, maybe she could find out if there was any news on Paul. After all, she knew that he was probably the one person bound to know the truth behind whatever Kermit had been trying to hide from her.
~~~~~
Pacing back and forth on the gravel path near the center of Madison Park, Kermit checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Mac wasn't late ... yet, but he'd still been waiting for nearly ten minutes, having put into motion as much of the groundwork for his investigation as the hour before their meeting gave him time to do. As patience had never been his strong suit, the wait until their appointed meeting time seemed endless.
Although the grove of trees surrounding the path was secluded, rarely populated at midday as most parkgoers gravitated to the picnic area near the sports fields instead, he found himself continually scanning the area for unfriendlies. Common sense told him that no one knew of this meeting spot, that the sensation pricking the hairs on the nape of his neck was paranoia sparked by the unwelcome intrusion into his present of a nemesis long buried. "Even paranoids have enemies, though," he muttered, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching.
About to begin another circuit of the several yards of path he'd been pacing off, Kermit caught sight of a man entering the grove and cutting through the trees toward the path. Before he could see his face, the deceptively shambling gait of the medium-height, gray-haired man allowed for recognition that Alec Mackensie had arrived. Right on time, too, he noted as he checked his watch again.
Mac hailed him from a few feet away as he approached. "I'd say it was good to see you again, Kermit, but I remember the last time you called me for help all too well. I prefer enjoying my retirement to getting drawn back into the life."
Kermit laughed as the other man stopped short a few feet from him, then crossed the distance between them and clapped Mac on the shoulder. "Finished grousing yet, or should we take a few minutes?" His tone was harsher than was usual when kidding his friend about his penchant for grumbling about whatever job he was about to undertake.
Mac shot him an assessing glance before replying. "Summer's not over yet, my friend, at least for those of us who won't give up the ghost of the season until the last golden days of Indian Summer have faded. Many people enjoy vacations at this time of year, as long as they're not tied down by children's schoolwork. Those of us who are retired and no longer have the need to live by an academic schedule particularly enjoy the respite from being asked time-critical favors by our younger acquaintances and former colleagues."
Ordinarily, Kermit would have ignored the sarcastic reproach. Today he lacked the patience needed to be polite. "Yeah, and others of us still have jobs to do -- and mysteries to solve." He waited a beat, barely long enough to ensure he commanded Mac's full attention, then continued, "Last time I knew who we were up against by the time I dragged you into it. We'd both heard the rumors about Straker's little operation, remember? And you --"
Mac cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, I know. I knew it was only a matter of time before Straker targeted me to get to my son, anyway, so stepping up the timetable in order to bring the man down seemed a good idea." His brusque voice softening, he suggested, "Cut to the chase, Kermit. Tell me what's going on and why you need my help. Do you suspect that we share a common link with whoever's behind this mystery you're embroiled in?"
"Only the mercenary world. Maybe." Kermit took a deep breath. "You weren't involved in this one, but I'm sure you heard about it. Eighteen years ago, the virus prototype stolen from Fort Detrick and reclaimed from the thief two months later."
"From Kevin Drako's hideout in Nicaragua." Mac nodded. "I heard the
rumors about how that village was saved. Drako's been dead eighteen years,
and everyone involved with his operation is dead and buried, to the best
of my knowledge. What does that have to do with what's going on now?" Before
Kermit had an opportunity to respond, Mac added, "My specialty's physics,
remember? I'm the man to go to if you need to neutralize a missile or a
neutron bomb, not if you need to counteract
a second generation version of that virus."
"I need you to work your sources, get your son to ask some questions of those still active in the CIA."
"What am I looking for?"
"Whoever's been asking questions about Kevin Drako. The name came up
today. I need to know how much this man knows about the night Drako died
-- and who this man is."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hundred yards away, a young man watched Griffin's conversation
through binoculars. His face contorted into a sneer when he saw the man
in sunglasses look toward the oaks that concealed his position, study the
trees as though suspecting someone lurked in their shade, then turn back
to his discussion with the older man. "Frightened that your past has caught
up with you, Griffin?" His laugh was as low as his words, and just as chilling.
"Whatever your boss told you, you don't have a clue what's in store for
you. You shot my father down like a wild animal and thought you got away
with it. Well, it's time to pay for your sins now," Alex Drako vowed. "Only
thing I need to figure out is how long to let you suffer and who to make
you watch
suffer before the end."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Catching up with each other had occupied the drive from the Blaisdell house to the restaurant. Small talk had occupied much of the next hour as they sat at a table chosen for privacy at the edge of the cafe's sprawling patio, Annie clearly enjoying her food, Karen forcing down every bite. Now conversation was at a standstill, as Karen tried to organize her thoughts. Deciding to plunge right into the matter at hand, she opened her mouth to speak at the same time that Annie began to talk. Unsure of what her friend had been about to say and certain that Annie was equally unaware of what she was trying to get out, Karen apologized a split second before the other woman did. "Sorry. Go ahead. Please. I didn't mean to cut you off."
Annie offered her a knowing smile, as though she could see the strain Karen was certain was written all over her face. "No, why don't you finish your thought? You invited me here because you needed advice about something pretty important, unless I miss my guess, and you've been stalling ever since you picked me up."
"So you're not about to let me lose my nerve?" Karen guessed. "I've been trying to figure out how to start, but there's no easy way to do it, so I'm going to cut to the chase." She removed her sunglasses and squinted into the sun, debating the wisdom of asking the question she was about to ask. Absently noting the young man who had just been seated at a sidewalk table outside the restaurant across the street, the only lone occupant of any of its tables in the middle of the lunch rush, she filed away for future reference the indefinable manner in which he struck her as odd. "Annie, have you ever heard of a man named Kevin Drako?"
The other woman furrowed her brow, evidently searching the recesses of her memory for the name. After about thirty seconds, she shook her head. "No. Doesn't sound familiar at all. Does this have anything to do with what you're trying to get sorted out about Kermit?" She held up a hand, forestalling any reply Karen might have offered. "Or perhaps I should ask whether this has *everything* to do with whatever's got you so worried about him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kermit, you're jumping at shadows here," Mac chided. "This isn't at all like you."
"I don't often have someone broadcast details of my past in a telephone call to my commanding officer either." Griffin swept his gaze over the entire area within his field of vision. "Are you sure you didn't hear anything about fifteen minutes ago? See anything?"
Mac chuckled at the rapid-fire questions. "Now you're sounding like someone *else* who was in Straker's camp with us."
"Peter's a little overeager sometimes, but he's got good instincts," Kermit growled.
"Impulsive was the word I was thinking of, and he wasn't the only one I was thinking about applying it to. And that's highly unlike you. Relax, Kermit, there's no one around."
"Now." He scanned the stand of oaks several hundred yards away as he spoke. "Are you sure you didn't hear twigs cracking under someone's feet?"
Mac shook his head and rolled his eyes. "There are a lot of trees in this area of the park and it is October, remember? I heard squirrels rustling around in the leaves and acorns hitting rocks and tree trunks, that's all."
Dubious, Kermit nonetheless left it at that. "So can I count on you?"
"When could you not? If this is as dire a situation as it sounds, though, I think you need to call in more help than just me."
"Already got it covered. Came from Durham's about twenty minutes before you got here. He doesn't have anything yet, but he's checking to see whether Drako had an account no one knew about -- and whether anyone's accessed that account over the years."
"All right, give me about eighteen hours and I'll try to have something for you. Same meeting place?"
Kermit nodded, then watched as Mac retraced his earlier steps. Standing alone on the gravel path once more, he couldn't shake the conviction that they'd been watched for at least part of their meeting. Acting on his suspicions, he headed for the stand of oak trees that had drawn -- and kept -- his attention.
Grey squirrels scurried in front of him, two racing up trees at his approach, four or five more scattering deeper into the woods as they cleared his path. Another stood on his hind legs, acorn in his mouth, blocking Kermit's way. He grinned at the animal's audacity and relaxed, starting to think that Mac was right and he was being paranoid. As he turned to leave, however, his eye was drawn by a glint shimmering among the leaves at the base of a towering oak.
Edging closer to the tree, he took note of a stout branch that had been broken in two. Perhaps the storm two days before had caused the branch to split as it fell from the tree, but he thought it more likely that the wood had splintered under the pressure of a man's foot. Attention still attracted by the glint, he neared the tree and crouched down, reaching deep into the pile of leaves, the bottom ones damp from the storm. His fingers closed around something that felt metallic, and he pulled the object from the leaves, rocking back on his heels as recognition dawned.
A Swiss Army knife, at least twenty years old, the initials KJD inscribed
on the case. The knife he'd seen Kevin Drako use on more than one occasion,
a weapon which hadn't been on the man's body -- or anywhere in his hideout
-- the night he died.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Paul never mentioned Drako's name?" Hearing the desperation in her own voice, Karen winced, glad Annie couldn't see the action. This was worse than she'd expected; she'd anticipated that Annie might not know the entire story behind Kermit's ... encounter with Kevin Drako, but she'd expected confirmation of her belief that Drako was a name from Kermit and Paul's shared mercenary past. For Annie not to know even that much .... She set her coffee cup down in its saucer with a clatter, her fear for Kermit increasing tenfold. "Oh God." Karen wasn't aware she'd spoken the last words aloud until Annie reached across the table to pat the hand resting beside the saucer.
The warm, comforting touch wavered for a second, then Annie took Karen's hand in both of her own. "It's 82 degrees out, but your hand's ice cold. And you're trembling. Why are you so frightened of whatever's going on with this Drako?"
Disconcerted by the ease with which her friend could read her emotions despite her best efforts at retaining her composure, Karen slipped her right hand from between Annie's and rejected the notion of trying to downplay the situation. Buying time to collect herself, she fiddled with the stems of her sunglasses before slipping them back on. The irony of using Kermit's patented method of retreating from someone who could read his emotions too well didn't escape her, nor did the paradox of hiding her eyes from a woman whose sightless gaze could bore into her very soul. "I got a call this morning from a man who refused to give his name. From what he said, what Kermit *wouldn't* say, and the manner in which I received the call, I pieced together that Drako was someone from Paul and Kermit's past together." She hesitated to allow her words to sink in, aware that Annie would rightly interpret her reference to the shared past of the men they loved as the shadowy part of those men's shared past. "This man made the accusation that the 101st was harboring a murderer -- and then he told me to ask Kermit what he remembered about Kevin Drako."
"And Kermit stonewalled you." Annie's tone was laced with exasperation. "To protect you."
Karen allowed herself a small smile at the sarcasm which bled through the word "protect". "Did Paul ever get away with that one?"
"Did he try? Yes. Did he get away with keeping things from me for my own good as he defined it? Not that I know of, not unless you count the few times when he delayed my hearing about the danger Peter had put himself into on the job."
"Why does he trust you more than Kermit trusts me?" Horrified that she'd let her doubts slip out, Karen stopped cold. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Nonsense. Don't you think we know each other well enough by now that we don't need to mince words?" Annie fingered the brim of her hat lightly as the breeze stiffened, secured the hat's perch on her head, and brushed a wayward strand of blonde hair away from her mouth. "I knew about Paul's world before we met, and he knew that I knew. That made it a lot easier for him to realize I could accept everything about him. I don't think his first wife knew as much about the mercenary life, but I don't think she questioned as much either." She let out a short laugh. "Well, *that* sounded wrong, didn't it? What I meant is that I think she was more at ease with a strict division between home life and everything else, whereas I thought of marriage as an equal partnership in every aspect of life."
"As do I." Karen shrugged involuntarily, physically expressing the confusion which inhabited her voice. "As does Kermit ... or so he says. I mean, we haven't spoken of marriage -- our marriage, that is -- but every time we've spoken of it in the abstract, he's made it clear that he wants the kind of marriage you and Paul have." One fist pounded the table with enough force that Annie jumped at the sound. "So why in the hell does he insist on closing me out?"
"Because he doesn't want to lose you."
"But --"
"You love him for who he is. *I* know that. Kermit --" Annie broke off, then went on, "Our situations are different, Karen. I knew Paul was a mercenary when I met him, I understood that world, and I was with him through a lot of the mercenary work that he did. Believe it or not, by the time you met Kermit, he'd pretty much given up mercenary work entirely." She laughed, as though Karen's disbelief had been vocalized.
"Intellectually, he knows you know who he was and what he did, and that you accept that. Emotionally -- well, that's another matter." Annie fell silent as the waiter neared their table, then began to speak again as his footsteps receded. "There have been a number of women in his life since I've known him, none of whom knew quite as much about that side of things as you do, and every one of them left him because they couldn't handle it. You know so much already that whatever this thing with Kevin Drako was, it must have had one hell of an impact on Kermit for him not to tell you anything about it. Whatever it is, I'm willing to bet that he's afraid whatever he did is horrible enough to have the power to drive you away."
"I'm not sure whether I should be offended by that or not." Karen let out a short, brittle laugh.
"Don't be. You're not the one he doesn't trust, Karen. He's afraid whatever happened with Drako ... taints him enough that he's not worthy of the happiness he's finally found, but is afraid will slip through his fingers. And he won't tell you anything about it because you're the walking, talking embodiment of that happiness to him." Sitting back in the wicker chair, Annie quipped, "How's that for a psychological analysis by a layman?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So the tracker on Captain Simms' car paid off." Alex Drako peered over the top of the newspaper shielding his face; Karen Simms' idle glance across the street as he sat down had led him to decide that his wisest move would be ensuring those he watched couldn't watch him in return. "Trust your gut, like Dad always said. Captain of the 101st's not Blaisdell any longer, so the new commanding officer's the way to bring down Griffin. And keeping an eye on both of them was *so* easy. Guess Griffin's not as great at his job as everybody thinks he is." The self-satisfied whispers ceased as he eyed the women across the way, struck by both the intensity of their conversation and the easy familiarity between them.
"Annie Blaisdell?" he asked himself in astonishment as the woman in the aqua hat shifted in her chair, the slight movement allowing him to glimpse enough of her profile to recognize the large sunglasses the photographs he'd studied had told him were the trademark of Paul Blaisdell's blind wife. Her presence changed everything.
His first mistake had been the assumption, rapidly shattered, that Blaisdell
still commanded the 101st Precinct, as he had when Alex traveled to Thailand
to hone the skills he would need to exact his revenge. His second mistake
had been miscalculating to whom Blaisdell's successor would turn for assistance
in keeping her precinct safe from the media frenzy that would be attendant
upon the arrest of one of its officers for murder. When he saw that Simms'
first move had been to meet another woman for lunch, he'd expected that
other woman to turn out to be a member of the Internal Affairs Unit or
perhaps
one of the city's elected officials. He'd prepared for that eventuality,
prepared to disseminate his carefully gathered "evidence" against Kermit
Griffin to those Simms sought to persuade to help her sweep the 101st's
problems under the rug.
Instead, Karen Simms had turned to Annie Blaisdell.
Alex Drako smirked as an idea occurred to him, causing him to wonder if the crimp he'd thought put in his plans was merely an illusion. If Annie Blaisdell had been Karen Simms' first phone call, there must be more to Griffin's relationship with his new commanding officer than met the eye. Bringing down both Griffin and Blaisdell with unsuspecting help from an unknowing pawn, as he'd planned only hours earlier, might be a goal destined never to be fulfilled -- but perhaps using Simms to bring down Griffin would prove just as intriguing a challenge.
"About what I said earlier regarding the phone call mentioning Kevin Drako's name ..." Karen let the words hang in the air between herself and Annie, reluctant to finish her thought.
"You mean the part about *how* you received the call?" Once Karen affirmed her guess, Annie asked, "Are you afraid this Drako's name -- and Kermit's -- came up at that point?"
"No, I --" Karen broke off, weighing her next words. "Annie, the call got through to me because the caller asked for one of my detectives by name. And I don't think this detective will let the allegation that one of the 101st's own is a murderer go by easily. I'm afraid he's going to start digging into this on his own."
"If Peter could help to clear Kermit's name, would that really be so bad?" Annie laughed at Karen's stunned silence. "When you started dancing around that one, I knew exactly who must have taken that call."
"OK, I should have expected that," Karen admitted, sighing. "And to answer your question, it just might be."
"Surely you trust Peter." Annie sounded surprised, but unoffended.
"Trust has nothing to do with it. I'm afraid of what Kermit's reaction will be. Look, the last time I had anything to do with pulling Peter into a situation where Kermit needed help, it was that debacle with Straker in Vermont. And I swear to God that Kermit orchestrated that one himself. Whether or not he ever admits it, to my dying day I'll believe that Kermit left that message with the coordinates readily accessible in the hopes that Peter or I would find it on his computer. But if he won't tell me the truth about Drako and *you've* never heard the name, he sure as hell isn't going to want Peter digging up the past."
"We don't always get what we want out of life," Annie asserted, her expression betraying that what she wanted most -- but couldn't have -- was her husband's presence at her side. "Kermit's old enough to know that. I'm not saying you should deliberately draw Peter into this, mind you. If he stays out of it, fine. If not, Kermit's just going to have to deal with it. Neither you nor I should interfere with the natural course of events as far as my son's involvement in this is concerned."
Karen remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing her friend's advice. "I must admit that I'm surprised you feel that way, Annie."
"For heaven's sakes, why?"
"Crossed my mind that maybe part of the reason Kermit won't tell me anything about Drako, part of the reason he wouldn't want me *or* Peter looking into this, has nothing to do with himself. Maybe part of his ... reticence has to do with what he's afraid we could dredge up about Paul."
"You could be right." Annie's tone was far more matter-of-fact than Karen had imagined it would be.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you into this. This isn't fair to you."
"Why on earth not?"
"I can't promise you that whatever I find out won't turn your life upside down. If Kermit won't fight to clear his name, I'm going to do it for him -- and heaven help anyone who gets in my way. I can't ask you to get involved in this if there's the slightest possibility that Paul's name will get dragged through the mud in the process."
"In the first place, you haven't asked for anything other than insight about why Kermit was closing you out, " Annie pointed out. "And I didn't offer more yet. But I'm offering now. In the second place, Paul would never forgive me if I backed off from helping to clear his best friend of a murder because something unflattering about him *might* be unearthed. Think about this logically, Karen. Those two -- well, their lives have been so closely connected for so long, professionally *and* personally, that there's a better than even chance Paul's involved in this anyway. The way I see it, if I help you clear Kermit, I'll be protecting Paul."
"Thank you. Annie, you really don't know how much this means to me."
Annie smiled. "Oh, I have an inkling I do. But don't worry about it. This is my fight too. And apropos of that -- I'll get in touch with a couple of people this afternoon. Call me later and I'll let you know what I find out."
"All right. And I'll pay a visit to someone else who might help on my way back to the precinct after I drop you off."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit strode into the 101st, hoping to avoid everyone as he made his way to his office at the back of the bullpen. As he reached its door, one of the people he didn't want to run into appeared beside him.
Kermit tried to ignore Peter as he opened the door and walked into the office. Placing his gun in his top drawer, he sat down at his computer and booted it up. "I'll get you that information you needed now. Just hold on a couple of minutes so that I can get into the system," Kermit said as he began to log on. "What was the name of the guy you needed info on?"
"How about Kermit Griffin?" Peter asked as he sat down on the other side of the desk. "What's going on, Kermit?"
The older man looked up from the screen and leaned back in his chair
with his arms folded across his chest. "What are you talking about? Nothing
is going on -- at least nothing you need to be worried about." Kermit hunched
forward in his chair once again and began to type in some commands. "Now,
if you don't have anything of importance that you need, some of us
have work to do. And I, for one, plan on getting mine done." Maybe
his words would get through the kid's thick skull the fact that he wanted
to be left alone, he thought darkly.
"You can't get rid of me that easily, Kermit. Something's going on, and I know it has to do with that phone call Captain Simms got this morning." Kermit groaned inwardly as Peter paused for breath, knowing that the younger man was itching to get some indication of what was going on. Peter hated being left out of the loop, especially when it was obvious that something big was going down. "I mean, after the call, the Captain leaves, you leave, neither one of you says anything to anyone before you go. Something's up and I think I can help. What the hell is going on?"
Kermit said nothing as he checked his e-mail, completely ignoring the other man in his office. One thing that Kermit could always count on about Peter was that the kid had a way of sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. He was a good cop, no doubt about that; however, it did get on one's nerves when he poked into things that didn't concern him. Peter's curious expression told Kermit that his silence on the matter was bugging the younger detective; he tried to care, but it was a failed effort. "Was there something else you needed, kid?" he asked, his manner dismissive, as he continued to check his mail.
Peter searched his friend's bland expression, watching for some sign
of what the phone call that morning had been about. Getting none, he stood
and walked to the door. "Look, Kermit, I know that something is going on,
and I want to help. Just let me know if you need anything, anything at
all." When there was no response to his last ditch effort to get information,
he turned and left the office, already identifying other potential avenues
he could use to find out what was going on with Kermit. Peter hated being
left in the dark when a friend was in danger, and, knowing Kermit as well
as he thought he did, there was
bound to be danger ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A lone figure sat in his car across the street from the 101st. "Running
scared, Griffin?" Alex Drako wondered aloud, looking
through his binoculars. "You don't know scared yet. Things are about
to get very interesting, my dear Kermit." He set his binoculars down on
the seat next to him, then opened the car door. Casually, so as not to
stick out, he made his way over to the green Corvair sitting in its usual
parking spot. <Becoming a creature of habit even though you don't hold
high enough rank to rate a parking spot with your name on it, are you now,
Griffin?> he thought. <One would think that someone of your standing
would know better than to be habitual.>
Once he reached Kermit's car, he pulled an item out of his pocket, cursing as his keys fell to the ground. A young female pedestrian nearby glanced at him as he bent down to retrieve the keys. He smiled up at her. "Sorry, I guess I'm just clumsy today." As he picked up his keys, his other hand slipped under the Corvair and attached a small device. Standing, he surveyed the area to make sure the woman was gone and no one else had seen him, then continued on his way to a small local shopping area where he could blend in. The last thing he wanted was to play his hand before it was time, and the encounter with the unknown woman had been too close a call.
Once at a nearby coffee shop he ordered a coffee, took it to an outside table with a view of the precinct's parking lot, and waited for the show to continue. <Soon, Griffin. Very soon,> he vowed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is he in?" Barely waiting for an affirmative response, Karen crossed the outer office and let herself in to the inner one. Once inside, she pulled the door closed behind her and opened her mouth to speak.
Without looking up from the documents before him, the man behind the desk greeted her before she could say a word. "I wondered how long it would take you to show up here, Karen."
She let out a short laugh. "I take it Kermit's already been here then?"
"Oh yeah."
Karen felt an involuntary smile tug at her lips, his able mimicry of Kermit's stock phrase comforting her. The first time she had met John Durham, he had used the same words to respond to her query as to whether an officer in her command, Kermit, had indeed mentioned his name. During that conversation, she had first begun to understand that her ... personal interest in Kermit Griffin was not one sided, that the intensely private Kermit thought enough of her to mention her to one of the few he called his close friend. The bank robbers had been foiled that afternoon; perhaps the reminder of that day now ringing in her ears was a sign that her caller's plan would also be thwarted.
Advancing farther into the room, Karen waited until Durham finished affixing his signature to the topmost document, then looked up at her. She met his eyes, inquiring, "How much did he tell you?"
"Likely not as much as you will." Durham gestured to the leather chair near his desk and waited for her to sit before speaking again. "He has me checking into any money trail connected to Kevin Drako."
"You speak as though you know the name," Karen observed.
"Drako crossed my path a few times." A quizzical light appeared in his
eyes as he studied the demeanor of the woman opposite him. "Kermit never
changes, does he? Still the same secretive old sod he's always been." Exasperation
flashed across his face. "Apparently he hasn't told you anything about
Drako. Would you call that an apt assessment?"
Karen sighed. "I certainly would. And from your reaction when I asked how much he'd told you, I'd guess that he hasn't shared a great deal about the problem at hand."
Durham chuckled. "Only enough for me to become aware that whatever it is has him running scared -- sufficiently frightened to request I investigate the finances of a man dead nearly two decades. I'm certain you're interested in helping him dig his way out of whatever trouble he's gotten himself into?" Karen nodded. "Then allow me to suggest an exchange of information. Tell me what brought about these unexpected visits from the two of you today."
"You may know more about that than I do." Frustrated, Karen leaned forward as she continued, "After all, Kevin Drako obviously means more to you than just a name. I need to know whatever you know about him."
Several minutes later, she nodded in understanding as he completed a quick profile of the deceased mercenary. "I received a call this morning from an unidentified man who wanted me to open an investigation into Drako's death."
Durham's eyes narrowed. "Drako didn't die in your jurisdiction. Nor that of any American law enforcement agency."
A grim compression of her lips preceded Karen's next words. "After what you just told me, I doubt my caller was at all interested in the fact that Drako died in Nicaragua. John, he --"
"-- accused Kermit of Drako's murder?"
"Not in so many words." She wondered briefly at her own failure to react to his voicing aloud what her caller had only insinuated. "But the implication was there. Are you sure you know nothing more about Drako's death than you've told me?"
"Certain."
Karen swore under her breath, then rose to leave. "You're already doing Kermit a favor. I need to ask you for one too."
He cut her off before she could organize her thoughts into a coherent sentence. "I'll look into the circumstances of Drako's death as well. Perhaps I'll turn up some indication of who might want Kermit believed guilty of murder."
"Thank you, John." Karen headed for the door, then paused, one hand on the door knob. Turning back to face him, she added, "I intend to clear him, you know. With or without his help."
"I'd expect nothing less. Any assistance I can give, you've only to call, you know that." Durham hesitated, then apparently came to a decision. "There's someone else who might be able to help you, Karen. *Very* close at hand to your job, if you grasp my meaning."
"Jack Lasher would not be my first choice for assistance on a matter this delicate, given the hostility between him and Kermit."
Durham laughed. "Nor mine. Lasher's not the man I had in mind."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
No sooner had Karen passed the Sergeant's desk than she found herself accosted by her Chief of Detectives. "Captain, a link's turned up between the Patterson case and a similar homicide over in the 73rd, but we've got trouble -- Jones is in charge of the investigation at the 73rd and is balking at sharing with our people. Both victims were scheduled to testify before the grand jury in the --"
"Not now, Chief." Karen raised her voice only enough to be heard over Strenlich's report. "I know who Patterson was expected to testify against, and I can guess what Jones' problem is. I don't have time to deal with this right now." She checked her watch, making a rapid calculation, before the Chief's frustration could rise. "Give me 25 minutes, then you, our detectives of record, and I will sit down and take this from the top. We'll get cooperation from the 73rd whether Jones likes it or not."
"Assuming one of our detectives of record doesn't piss him off again."
Karen smothered a grin when she overheard the mutter as Strenlich turned back toward his office. "I'll handle *both* of them," she called after him, still standing where he'd intercepted her. <Great, one stressed out ex-Marine, one blowhard in the 73rd who's afraid we'll solve his case before he does and he'll miss out on the glory, and one detective who won't be able to hold back when Jones starts annoying us as he does so well. And then there's whatever the hell went down between Kermit and Kevin Drako. I am definitely going to have a headache by the time *this* day is over.>
She shook her head and sighed, then started toward her office again. As she passed his desk, she told one of her detectives, "I need to see you in my office."
"Captain --" His chair scraped back along the tile floor as he stood.
Karen didn't look back. "Right now, Detective Blake."
Once she reached her office, she headed straight for her desk, trusting that she had been followed. When Blake entered, she was already seated. "Close the door behind you, Detective, and take a seat."
He did as she requested, then offered, "If it's about the Donaldson surveillance, the wiretap was approved by the court this morning."
"That's very good to hear, but not what I needed to talk to you about." Karen hesitated, weighing her next words. "I believe I spoke with an old friend of yours a little while ago, Blake. From what he tells me, I'm beginning to suspect that Kermit's personnel file isn't the only one in this precinct that may be a little ... creative in its characterization of past employment."
Blake blinked at her owlishly from behind his glasses; Karen couldn't tell whether he was taken aback or confused. "I don't understand, Captain. I thought the contents of Kermit's personnel file were nonexistent when it came to past employment."
God, she'd never have believed it of Blake if John Durham hadn't been the source of her information, but damned if she wasn't beginning to see how the man could have been a mercenary once -- a very good one, at that. "They are," she agreed. "On occasion. But Kermit's personnel file isn't the one that's relevant at the moment." She allowed the silence between them to stretch, finally opting to fill it herself when the detective supplied no additional comment. "Yours is. I'd like to know why I found out only today that you shared a certain past, shall we say, with Detective Griffin and Captain Blaisdell."
"Captain, you've read my personnel jacket." If Karen hadn't known better, she would have thought Blake's voice was genuinely puzzled. "You know my specialization is in electronic surveillance, that I don't often go into the field. Do I look like a mercenary to you?"
Karen rose and moved around to lean against the front of the desk, arms crossed, before replying. "Looks can be highly deceiving, Detective. I'm sure there are those who'd write off Kermit as *just* a computer geek. But that's not the case here at the 101st." When Blake still exhibited no trace of comprehension that his secret had been revealed, she pointed out, "I've seen your scores at the target range. I know electronics isn't your only expertise, any more than cybersleuthing is Kermit's. Look, Blake, I don't care whether your personnel file admits in full what your job used to be or not. God knows Kermit's doesn't." Even to her own ears, her laugh sounded forced.
"I don't know where you got this idea that I used to be a mercenary, Captain, but whoever gave it to you must have been pulling your leg."
"Leg pulling never struck me as particularly endemic to the Circus." Karen stressed the last word sufficiently that there could be no doubt she meant the intelligence service colloquially called by that name. Blake's eyes widened, but that was the only reaction her words sparked. "All right, cards on the table, Blake. I just had a conversation with John Durham. *He* told me about your past."
Blake visibly deflated. "Guess I should have known this was coming sooner or later. I promise you, Captain, this hasn't had any impact on the workings of this precinct."
"I'd be disappointed if that was truly the case." Karen paused, then added, "Blaisdell told me once that I was taking over a precinct full of officers with unique strengths drawn from experience, strengths that made the 101st that much more successful. Once I'd held this command for a while, I saw with my own eyes that he was right. I just wish I'd known the broad strokes about *your* experience sooner." Uncrossing her arms, she let that last remark sink in, then admitted, "I need your help, Blake. Help you're uniquely qualified to give us ... me."
Her hasty correction fooled no one. Blake met her eyes with a steady gaze and asked, "What does Kermit need help with that he won't admit he needs help with?"
<Trusting me enough to tell me the truth,> screamed the traitorous voice in Karen's brain. Aloud, she matched his query with her own. "What do *you* know about a man named Kevin Drako?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blake stood outside his long-time friend's office, debating what he was about to do. If he had learned one thing during his time in the mercenary business and his time here at the 101st with Kermit, it was that one didn't want to mess with him. Kermit had been known to have the ability to make people disappear. At least that was the rumor. How much of that was true and how much the careful building and maintenance of a deadly reputation Blake didn't know. He did know that during their time working together he had often seen Kermit succeed where others -- even those with the reputation of being the best in their field -- had failed. Blake had learned long ago that he didn't want to get on Kermit's bad side.
He sighed. What he wanted or didn't want didn't matter right now, not if Drako was reaching out from the grave. Cautiously, Blake raised his hand and knocked on the doorframe.
"Look, Peter, I'm a little busy right now."
Blake ambled into the office, wary of Kermit's reaction to the digging he was about to do. "I see that you're busy, but I was wondering if you could spare a couple of minutes. I swear I won't take too long."
Kermit turned his full attention to Blake, who was still standing close to the door as if to make a quick escape, and smiled at the picture that conjured up. He found it funny that a standard Blake action most people interpreted as stemming from the other man's fright was actually a survival technique that Blake had learned -- hell, he amended, that they'd all had to learn -- early on in the trade. "What do you want, Blake?"
The electronics expert's gaze hardened, telling Kermit he'd realized
that he now had his friend's undivided attention and he intended to take
full advantage of that fact. Kermit waited as he closed the door and took
a few steps into the office. Moments later, standing with his back against
the wall, Blake no longer looked like the man everyone else at the 101st
thought they knew. Instead, he looked like the Blake who had fought alongside
Kermit and Paul for many years ... a lifetime
ago. Kermit knew exactly what the other man wanted, not to mention
who was behind this visit to Griffin's inner sanctum, but he had no intention
of making this easy for him.
Blake waited a few seconds for Kermit to begin the conversation. Visibly irritated when that didn't happen, he adjusted his glasses with care, then started to speak. His tone sharp, he remarked, "You know why I'm here, so there's really no reason to beat around the bush. I think that we know each other well enough that we can cut straight to the truth of the matter without either one of us worrying about what the other one wants to hear. So let's get right down to it. Why don't you tell me what in the world is going on here? I think I need to know."
Kermit studied Blake, amazed against his will at how easy it was for the other man to go from the quiet man the rest of the precinct knew to the tough interrogator whom Kermit had known for years. "What's there to know?" he rejoined. "How about you start by telling me what Karen has told you? Then we'll see just what I feel that I need to add. And while we're at it, why don't you tell me exactly what you told her about what's going on?"
Blake looked directly at Kermit, his gaze nearly intense enough to burn through the green lenses, and shook his head. "First, there's a lot to know. Shit, if you're involved, I know that not only is there a lot to know, but what there is to know isn't good. I remember this guy that the Captain mentioned." He held up a hand, effectively silencing any attempt Kermit might have made to interrupt. "Now I didn't say much, which you can thank me for later, but I want to know exactly what I'm covering for, because there has to be a damn good reason why you aren't telling her. I want to know what you're hiding."
Kermit leaned back in his chair and stared at Blake. "Just what do you know?"
"Frankly, the Captain knows quite a bit, not as much as some of us know, but . . ." Blake let that sentence drop, as if secure that he'd let Kermit know just whom he was dealing with. "She's good, and she has a lot of connections that you don't know about." A slight hitch in his breathing was the only reaction Kermit allowed himself, but he knew Blake would have registered the sound. "All I told her was that Drako, from what I had heard, was bad news, which was nothing she hadn't already heard. Then I told her that I'd try to talk to you, which, as you can see, I'm doing."
"There's nothing to tell, Blake, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of it. While you're at it, make sure that Karen stays out of it as well."
Blake just smiled and headed toward the door. "You know that I can't make the Captain do anything that she doesn't want to do. If she wants to find out what happened down in Nicaragua, she *will* find out, and if I get ordered to help her. . .well ..." He paused, letting the unfinished thought hang between them, then concluded, "I can say you're not making my life easy here, Kermit ... as if you ever did." Blake started to leave, but turned back to give Kermit one final warning. "You know she won't stop. She'll keep digging until she finds out what is going on. If I were you, I would explain it to her. I don't think you want to lose her the way you did Virginia. Karen's a special person, she won't run away. Just don't push her away, you'll regret it."
Blake headed out the door, leaving Kermit to contemplate what he'd said.
Blake was right, he admitted, Karen wasn't the type of woman who would
give up easily. Kermit just had to make sure that she didn't find out anything,
at least until he had resolved the problem raised by her caller. He had
a lot of work to do on that score. The last thing he needed was to be sitting
in this office waiting for news to come to him, especially with Blake having
given up the pretense that he was unaware of the serious nature of Kermit's
relationship with Karen ... not to mention Karen's apparent discovery of
the way his and
Blake's pasts were linked.
Instinct told Kermit time was running out. He had to get the answers now. Formulating a plan, Griffin once again closed down his computer and grabbed his gun. It was time to find good ol' Rykker and see what the man in the field had to offer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter stood at his desk and watched as Kermit made his way out of the 101st. He knew something was going on, and he hated not being able to help out. It had been fairly quiet around there for the past several days, and as much as Peter hated to admit it, he was bored. If Kermit was into something, it had to be big.
When the call had come in, Peter had silently hoped that he would be assigned to investigate, but that wasn't the case. The Captain hadn't even talked to him about the mysterious caller, but evidently Kermit knew all about him and wasn't sharing. He didn't know why, but that unnerved him to no end.
Feeling two pairs of eyes on him, Peter turned around to face Jody and Skalany. "What's up with him?" he asked, despite knowing that they were just as clueless as he was.
"Who knows?" Mary Margaret shrugged.
Jody strode up to her partner and slung her arm around his shoulders. "Frankly, Peter, it's none of our business. If Kermit needed our --"
"Your," Skalany corrected.
Jody nodded at her friend in agreement. "-- *your* help, then he would ask for it, I'm sure."
Before Peter could answer his partner, Mary Margaret walked over to
his other side and rested her arm on his other
shoulder. "Until then, partner, I think that it would be best for you
to stay out of it. You still have other cases to concentrate on," she reminded
him, pointing to the ever-growing stack of files on the corner of his desk.
"So how about focusing on those instead of something that you're not a
part of?"
Jody took a few steps away from Peter, sat on the corner of her desk, and looked him in the eye. "Look, I'm sure that it's nothing to worry about. If something major was going on, you'd know about it. You always seem to know, but I just don't think that anything like that's the case here. If Kermit can't handle it without you, he'll tell you. Don't worry about something that you can't help with. You have other things to occupy your time, and I think that instead of being so curious about what Kermit's up to, you should be thinking about staying on Strenlich's good side."
Skalany laughed. "Yeah, because we all know where you are on his hit list at this moment. Besides, Peter, you have to worry about that whole thing with the 73rd. Think about that for a little while, OK? You'll give yourself a heart attack if you're not careful."
She headed toward her desk, leaving Peter to think about what she had said. Unfortunately, he soon realized, Jody wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Peter, I know that if you think someone you care about is in trouble you'll do whatever you have to to make sure that they're safe." Peter glanced at her, wondering where this conversation was going. Jody didn't make him wait long to find out. "But, you know, there are times when even you with all of your Shaolin tricks and cop instincts can't help. Things happen, and you just have to deal with them." Peter averted his eyes and looked down at his desk, unable to look at Jody any longer, but feeling the waves of tension suddenly emanating from her.
Once he'd looked away, Jody winced. Almost as soon as she opened her mouth, she'd regretted her last sentence. Her words brought up way too many bad memories for both of them, but she had started this discussion and she was going to finish it, no matter what it did to their friendship. "I know you don't really listen to what I have to say," she began. Peter started to reply, but Jody continued, her voice overriding his, "And I understand that. It's a part of who you are, and I wouldn't want to change that." She paused, reconsidering. "Well, OK, *most* of the time I wouldn't want to change that," she amended, smiling. "I just don't want you to get into something that could hurt you in the end. If Kermit doesn't want your help, you're going to have to accept it. Move on, and help someone who does need your help. That's what you do, that's who you are. Don't get involved in this, because if you do, you just may lose a friend you can't afford to lose."
Deciding she had said enough, Jody turned to her desk and began her paperwork. She hoped beyond hope that for once her partner would listen to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit stopped short when he saw Annie standing beside the green Corvair. Walking up to her, he shook his head. <This can't be good,> he thought. <If she's here, then Karen's been talking to her ... damn. *Women*.> "Annie, what a pleasant surprise. I didn't think I'd see you here today," Kermit greeted her in as friendly a tone as he could muster, knowing full well that she would see through the façade he was trying to erect.
"I'm fine. Thank you for asking," Annie replied. "You knew that I would be here. Where else would I be?"
"Oh, I don't know, at home, maybe," Kermit said as he reached his car, wanting to get away from this woman who, despite her blindness, could read him like an open book. "Let me guess, you need a ride home."
Annie smiled slowly and made her way over to the passenger side. "Now that you mention it."
Kermit shook his head. <This is going to be a long day.> Once they were on the way to the Blaisdell residence, he waited for her to say what was on her mind. If there was one trait she shared with Karen, it was that she spoke her mind. How alike the two women were never ceased to amaze him.
When no word came from his passenger, Kermit knew that he had better say something or else one day he would regret it. Right now, Annie was his only link to Paul, and that was a link that he wasn't ready to give up. Not to mention the fact that they had many years together as friends that he wasn't willing to relinquish. He had told Peter once that he didn't have many old friends left alive, and Annie was one of those left. He wasn't going to give that up, wasn't going to allow the horrible secrets in his past to destroy that too. "OK, so what did you and Karen talk about? Not daisies, I assume."
Annie turned toward him, as if to visually gauge his reaction; despite his knowledge that she couldn't see any emotion his face might betray, her movement disconcerted him. "Actually, we had a very nice lunch, thank you, and Karen was kind enough to offer to give me a ride home once I was through with my business here in town. But I decided you wouldn't mind if we had a chance to talk instead."
Kermit lowered his gaze to the steering wheel, refraining from knocking his head against it. When those two women got together, it definitely wasn't a good sign, he told himself.
"Not to worry, Kermit, we'll be safe, and whether or not you want to admit it, you need our help. Who better to help you get to the bottom of this whole Drako thing, than us, the women who care about you? Well, one who is obviously, even to this blind chick, in love with you, and the other who would never let anything happen to someone she calls a friend. So to me it looks like no matter what you may think, you're stuck with us. You can either help us to help you or try to stymie us. Either way, we will get to the bottom of this and clear your name."
Kermit tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to calm his raging emotions. "Listen, Annie, I know you and Karen mean well, and any other time I would appreciate it. However, this is not the time to go running off without any information. There's nothing to worry about, and even if there was something going on, there'd be nothing that you could help with. This is just something that I need to clear up, and then things will all work out in the end. Trust me. You've always been able to do that before. I don't see why this time should be any different."
Annie reached across to place a hand on his arm. "Kermit, this has nothing to do with not trusting you. You should know better than to think that of me. We've known each other how long?"
"About twenty years, maybe more," Kermit supplied with a smile, remembering the first time he had met this spitfire. He'd thought then that Paul was a lucky man and he still thought that now.
"Right, and have I ever given you reason to doubt me? I'll answer that. No. I just wanted to let you know something that you should already know. I wanted you to know that you can't shut her out of your life. And don't try to contradict me and claim that's not what you're doing, because I know you too well. Karen's a strong woman, but if you keep closing her out of your life, you very well could lose her. And that would be the biggest mistake of your life.
"Look at Paul and me," she continued. "He told me that for many years he was looking for someone who could handle his mysterious past and who he was and had been. I could accept it and him with all of my heart and soul. Karen feels the same way. Don't shut her out. She can handle anything that you throw at her, and she wants to share her life with you. Holding out on her will only hurt you. She loves you and wants to understand you. She won't run away. She won't shun you. She will accept you ... all of you ... if you only give her the chance."
"There are some things no one needs to know. Some things about me that she should never hear about. I'm not a saint, Annie, you know that," Kermit argued.
"And you think that I am? That Paul is? Hell, that Karen is? I thought
*I* was blind." Annie turned her head away, sightless eyes staring straight
ahead. "Karen knows that you've done some things in your past that you
regret and want to forget. She understands that, but she also understands
that in order to love someone like you, or like Paul, we have to be able
to be there for you. In order for us to be there for you, you have to let
us in. You can't just shut out people like us, or else it will never work.
I know you love her as much as she loves you. Just do me one favor. Don't
throw away the best damn thing that has
ever happened to you."
Kermit and Annie rode the rest of the way to the Blaisdell residence in silence. Alone in the house after he'd gone, Annie was more certain than ever that she'd been right to give Kermit that time to try to come to terms with what she had told him, instead of pushing further. She knew that it would take time before he *really* grasped what she was saying. It would take a lot of work on both his and Karen's parts to get past his years of experience at shutting down his emotions. But if she knew Karen, they would get past this and anything else that came their way ... together. Kermit just had to see that. Annie only hoped that he didn't see it too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The steady blip emitted by one of the trackers he'd planted continued. Puzzled, Alex checked his equipment. "Where the hell are you going, Griffin?" he muttered, checking his map of the city and its environs. Griffin had passed the precinct on his way back from the neighborhood Alex knew contained the Blaisdell home, headed deep into a warehouse district on the far side of Chinatown.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit entered one of the many warehouses that lined the east side of town and headed for the catwalk overlooking the main floor. As he climbed the narrow metal stairway, he promised himself he would be able to get something from the man he was here to meet. If not, then he would have to find other avenues to follow. All he could do now was wait, which went entirely against his grain.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kermit saw a shadow inch toward him. Stealthily, so that his movements wouldn't be seen, he reached for the Desert Eagle and lightly rested his hand on the gun's butt.
"You won't need to use that," came an amused voice from the shadows at the far end of the catwalk. "I don't think you called me all the way out here to kill me, now did you?"
"Rykker," Kermit acknowledged. "You know why I asked you here?" Pausing, he let out a snort of laughter. "Shit, I'm sure you heard all about it from one of the others already."
The old mercenary sauntered toward him, halting off to Kermit's side, his hands deep in the pockets of his trenchcoat. Griffin smirked, thinking uncharitably that Rykker wore the garment for effect, much as he had on more than one occasion over the years, because he sure as hell didn't need a coat on a day so unseasonably warm. "Yes, I have. But what I don't understand is why. The man's been dead for almost twenty years."
"Yeah, well, as we both know, sometimes people have a way of haunting you even from the grave. What I want to know is who's behind this."
Rykker turned away from Kermit to look out over the crates and pallets
that filled the cavernous warehouse. "I've been checking my contacts since
I got the call this morning from John. I can't say that I've been able
to turn up anything
so far, but I'm sure that something will turn up eventually." Rykker
turned back to Kermit and shrugged. "You know just as well as I do that
everyone leaves a trail. All we need to do is find this person's and follow
it."
"Guess it was worth a shot anyway." Kermit shook his head in frustration and headed toward the stairs.
Rykker's next words stopped him in his tracks. "What I'd want to know is who was close enough to Drako that they'd want to see your life ruined. That's the real question that needs to be answered. Every one of his men was killed, if I remember correctly. What about one of his contacts? Or, as much as I know you don't want to think about it ... his family?" Kermit whirled to face the other man. "I for one know that if anything happened to me my daughter would try to find out who was behind it. If *you* were the one something happened to ... hell, I'm sure that your son would want to know."
Kermit closed the distance between them and grabbed Rykker by the lapels, slamming him up against the railing of the catwalk. "You leave Jim out of this, do you hear me? He doesn't know a thing." The words ground out from between clenched teeth were low and deadly.
"Exactly my point," Rykker began, shrugging free of Kermit's grip and taking two steps away from the metal railing. "Children have a way -- even brothers and sisters have a way -- of believing something about one of their own, so that if something happens, well ... it could be devastating."
Secure in the knowledge that his eyes were hidden by his dark glasses, Kermit allowed his gaze to roam, looking everywhere but at the man he faced. Rykker had a point -- what if a member of Drako's family was behind this? As much as Kermit didn't want to believe that was the case, he couldn't discount the theory. He had to find out the truth.
Difficult as it was for him to admit, he had trouble separating the image of the children pictured in the idyllic family snapshot taken nearly a generation ago from the reality that one of them could have followed in Kevin Drako's footsteps. But ... he couldn't refuse to consider the possibility. If anyone hurt Marilyn and her children, Kermit himself would be on the war path. Shit, he'd nearly killed Douglas Larson in his quest to avenge David's death. All that had possessed the power to stop him had been the echo of David's voice, speaking to him louder than anything else.
"Find out what you can," Kermit demanded after a lengthy silence.
"I'll let you know through the usual channels."
Kermit raised his hand in acknowledgement before making his way down the stairs and out of the warehouse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So far we've come up with the only suspects, we've come up with the only witnesses, and we're the ones who found the link between the victims. You were too busy gloating over being quoted about the Lewis homicide on the front page of the newspaper to dig deep enough to find out your victim was scheduled to testify against Chamberlain before the grand jury. So when you don't even care enough about your job to do better than slipshod work, where the hell do you get off telling *us* the 73rd is taking the lead in this case and we're supposed to just hand over our files on Patterson's murder and let you do the rest?"
One elbow resting on her desk, Simms cradled her pounding head in her hand for a moment as she listened to the vehement words and wished fervently that Patterson had had the good grace to die somewhere outside the 101st. The vision she'd had of this conference call with the 73rd *before* it began had been bad enough. Discovering that the concern she and Strenlich shared about Peter Caine maintaining his pattern of friction with his counterpart at the 73rd was misplaced, that what she really needed to worry about was Detectives Powell and Jones going for each other's jugular, certainly hadn't helped matters any.
Jones' voice came across the speakerphone seconds after Jody finished talking, much of his response a string of profanity. Strenlich beat Simms to the punch, the volume of his words causing the throbbing in her temple to increase. "That kind of language is uncalled for, Detective Jones. Absolutely uncalled for. We're trying to work with you here, help you find a killer in a case where you haven't turned up squat on your own and *this* is how you talk to our detectives? You owe Detective Powell an apology. Now."
"For what?" Jones and Captain Acheson both asked incredulously at the other end of the line.
"Let's start with the unprofessional manner in which you've conducted yourself throughout this entire conversation," Simms suggested in a withering tone. "Then perhaps we'll begin to talk about what is increasingly looking like your deliberate efforts to sabotage our investigation."
Her words generated the same type of reply from Jones as before. Unfortunately, this time his off-color characterization of each of the officers at the 101st who were party to this conference call prompted the cacophony of Acheson taking his detective to task and Strenlich responding to Jones in kind.
Simms resisted the urge to beat her head against her desk, which would no doubt exacerbate her headache, and reasserted control of the conversation. "Gentlemen, please. This is getting us nowhere. Patterson was killed first, we've linked both his and Lewis's deaths to their testimony against Chamberlain, and the 101st brought in Chamberlain in the first place. Therefore, the 101st is taking the lead in this investigation. I'll expect you to fax over what you've got so far within the hour, so that we can begin to coordinate our precincts' actions. And, Detective Jones, your cooperation with Detectives Caine and Powell on *all* aspects of this case *will* be forthcoming. Do I make myself clear?"
"We'll provide whatever assistance you need on the Patterson homicide, but we're handling Lewis alone," put in Captain Acheson.
"Sure you don't want to rethink that decision?" Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw Peter wince at her bland tone. Kermit must not have exaggerated when he opined that she and Blaisdell shared an ability to intimidate through cordiality, she mused.
"The 101st's not calling the shots on this one, Simms."
"Fine. When the District Attorney makes inquiries about the investigation
into the murders of two of his key witnesses, I'm sure
he'll be quite interested in hearing that a petty squabble between
precincts endangers the likelihood of Chamberlain finally being
brought to justice. Cooperate or not, it's your choice. Either way,
it's the 73rd's reputation that's at stake, not the 101st's."
"All right, you've made your point. Our files will be on your desk within the hour." Acheson's grudging agreement was issued over fresh complaints from Jones.
"My detectives will share what they've got in just as timely a fashion.
And I trust that this investigation will be conducted in an
entirely professional manner, with no need for disciplinary action
arising." Simms shot a warning glance at Peter and Jody as she spoke, nonverbally
conveying that her edict applied to them as well as to Jones.
"Of course," said Acheson.
"Bet the controlling bitch is an ice queen in bed, too," Jones muttered.
"That's it, Jones. No warnings this time." Simms quirked an eyebrow at the others in her office as they listened to the 73rd's commander, who'd apparently forgotten the line was still open, discipline his wayward officer. "Three day suspension, and you'd better learn to keep your mouth under control unless you want me to confine you to a desk while awaiting administrative action."
Peter let out a low whistle at the punishment.
"Shit," muttered Acheson. "Captain Simms, I apologize for both my detective's conduct and forcing your people to be party to the in-house matter I just aired."
"No need." Karen chewed on her lower lip, then added, "I would like to offer Detective Jones the opportunity to retract his comment and offer us all an apology of his own, however."
"Why should I apologize for my opinion?"
Karen chuckled as she took in her officers' disbelief that Acheson hadn't yet regained the presence of mind to sever the connection. "In the first place, Detective, one has no call to offer an opinion on something of that nature without having first hand experience -- and I can assure you that *you'll* never know. In the second place, I've never found men who respect women as their equals to have difficulty handling a lover with a mind of her own. Perhaps you should try showing such respect."
Jody flashed her a thumbs up sign; Karen felt her lips curve in the first genuine grin that had touched them since the strange phone call that morning. Peter and Strenlich both seemed to be encountering great difficulty holding back their laughter. After approximately ten seconds of dead air, the silence on the other end of the phone was broken by Acheson's roar of laughter. "Simms, you just accomplished what I've yet to see anyone in this precinct, including myself, manage to do -- rendering Jones speechless."
A few minutes later, Simms dismissed her three officers. Glancing down, she fished in her top desk drawer for the industrial size bottle of aspirin she'd bought the month before, located the container, and pulled it out. She heard the door close as she began the task of prying off the childproof cap, but didn't look up, certain the three had left and closed it behind them.
"Captain, could I have a word with you?"
Groaning at the sound of Peter's voice, Simms snapped the bottle cap off, shook four tablets into her hand, and dry swallowed them. "What is it, Detective?" she asked, looking up. "Was there something concerning the Patterson case that this meeting didn't address?"
A frown shadowed his features as Peter started at her voice. Karen prayed that the worried expression had nothing to do with his getting some sort of vague but strongly negative Shaolin feeling about Kevin Drako or Kermit's connection to him, unsure that she could contend with that as well as Peter's curiosity and her own unsettled feeling about the Drako situation. She sighed in relief at his next words. "Are you sure you didn't take too many aspirins?"
Replacing the cap on the bottle, Karen replied, "You'll note this is an industrial size bottle. Its size may well be surpassed by that of my headache, to which I am beginning to think each and every one of my detectives is doing his or her utmost to contribute, as are those at the 73rd and, lest we forget, our illustrious police commissioner. Let's presume that I'm an adult capable of making my own decisions about how many aspirins to take and proceed with business, shall we?"
Her waspish tone had little to no effect on the Shaolin cop, she noted. Peter offered her a sheepish grin in apology and slouched against her file cabinet, as if settling in for a long stay. "What was the deal with that phone call I took this morning, Captain?"
"Nothing with which you need concern yourself, Detective." Karen counted off the seconds until he spoke, knowing that Peter Caine would not be inclined to leave well enough alone.
"Looks like you put some stock in that call this morning if you thought that man's claims were plausible enough to ask Kermit to do some digging," Peter observed.
Karen remained silent, but arched a quizzical eyebrow.
"I mean, I know that if there's a real possibility one of our officers is a murderer the investigation's got to be played close to the vest so you don't tip him off, but I've got to admit that I thought you'd bring me in on it, especially since you obviously brought Blake in on it too and he usually sticks close to the precinct. After all, I did take the call in the first place, so I suppose you could say -- well, technically, at least -- that I caught the case."
"One question, Detective, when did I say that I'd assigned Kermit -- or Blake, for that matter -- to an investigation that had anything to do with that phone call?"
That caught Peter off guard, Karen noted with satisfaction, as he visibly
faltered before speaking again. "Well, you didn't, but I
naturally assumed. You went to Kermit's office not very long after
the call and then he practically flew out of here once you'd left his office,
told me he had something to check into and whatever I might need would
have to wait a couple of hours. And after that you left the precinct and
it was a couple of hours before you got back. Not to mention that you put
off dealing with the Patterson case until after you called Blake into your
office and the first thing he did when he left your office -- you know,
while our meeting was delayed when Commissioner Kincaid came in to see
you -- was duck into Kermit's office. And Kermit left again as soon as
Blake was back in the bullpen. So --" Peter took in a deep breath, for
dramatic value, no doubt, Simms thought acerbically. "-- you can see why
I thought that. Are you saying you didn't?"
Karen closed her eyes for a moment, her head swimming from listening
to Peter's lengthy explanation of his thought process. "What I am saying,
Detective, is that you don't have a say in how I distribute this precinct's
caseload. Moreover, although it may have escaped your notice, both Detective
Griffin and Detective Blake have their own workloads. They were both involved
in investigations before that phone call, so I fail to understand why you
should jump to the conclusion that any conversation I had with either of
them -- or any conversation they had with each other -- today is related
in any way to that
phone call, rather than to already heavy workloads. If you've been
spending your time watching the comings and goings of your colleagues,
Detective, perhaps your own caseload isn't heavy enough." If she was lucky,
he'd leave it alone, especially after that last veiled threat. Peter being
Peter, though, she doubted she'd be so lucky.
True to form, Peter looked chastened for a second or two, then started nibbling around the edges again. "Yeah, but where does your being gone for a couple of hours figure into this?"
Against her will, Karen laughed at his predictability. Trust Peter to be the only one of her detectives who could make a lunchtime absence from the station into more than lunch -- not that her lunch with Annie hadn't been far more than just lunch. "I met a friend for lunch." When she saw that his curiosity failed to diminish, she warded off the inevitable question by expanding on that statement. "It's been a while since your mother and I had a chance to get together and talk. Since we probably won't have many more days like today until spring, I thought it was the perfect time to take advantage of the beautiful weather." She paused, favoring him with an assessing glance as she picked up her pen and opened a file folder, her actions signaling dismissal. "Satisfied, Detective? If so, I believe that some of us still have work to do."
To his credit, Peter looked slightly abashed. "Sorry for prying, Captain. I just wondered what had transpired with that caller." He pushed away from the file cabinet, then hesitated. "Captain, something's going on with Kermit and it's something big. I can taste it. I just want you to know that I'll be here if he needs any help with it." With that, he turned and left her office, slamming the door behind him.
Karen threw down her pen and steepled her hands before her. Any other detective would have heeded the implicit warning and backed off. Peter Caine, hotshot Shaolin cop, wasn't any other detective, however. "Damn it. Now he *knows* something's up. Stay out of it, Peter, please. Just stay out of it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Any luck?" Jody greeted Peter before he had a chance to sit down.
"With what?" he returned, dropping into the chair behind his desk.
His partner rolled her eyes, but it was his ex-partner who replied. "What do you think, Peter?" Skalany snorted, then continued, "With your never-ending quest to find out exactly what's going on with Kermit and why no one's told *you* all about it. Whatever *it* is."
Peter grimaced, suspecting that he was never going to hear the end of
this. Much as Skalany and Jody kept telling him to steer clear of whatever
Kermit was involved in, the two women were far too interested in his efforts
to unearth that particular mystery. The thought that they'd been as bored
as he was the past few days and were simply searching for something to
occupy their time crossed his mind, but he dismissed the idea out of hand.
Those two would be intent on harassing
him about this no matter how busy they were, he reflected sourly. They'd
learned long ago how easy it was to make him squirm if they acted in tandem,
and since then ....
Rather than carry that thought to any kind of logical conclusion, he challenged, "Since you seem to know so much about what I was talking to the Captain about, why don't you tell me?"
Skalany's eyes searched Peter's, then took on a glint that unnerved him. "Captain Simms shot you down, didn't she?"
"Like a lead balloon." Peter groaned, looking from one woman to the other. He didn't know which was worse, the knowing grin that crossed Skalany's face or the overly sympathetic look that appeared on Jody's. Either way, he was sunk.
"Peter, Peter, Peter," Skalany intoned, moving to stand behind him, one hand on each shoulder. "When will you ever learn, my friend?"
"Learn what?" he asked, tilting his head back to look up at her.
Skalany squeezed his left shoulder, her grip a bit too tight to pass for reassurance. "How to win friends and influence people."
"You know, as taught in the Dale Carnegie course," contributed Jody, who then made an unsuccessful effort to stifle her laughter at the face he made at her in response.
"Yeah, right, like the two of you were stellar students in that or any other --" Peter groped for the right word and failed to come up with one that satisfied him, but finished the sentence anyway. "-- congeniality course." Jody's eyes widened in feigned shock. Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked back up at Skalany and was unsurprised to find that her features mirrored Jody's mock astonishment. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "Try that one on someone who'd buy it. I know both of you too well for it to work on me."
The argument he expected didn't materialize. Skalany let go of his shoulder and shrugged. "It was worth a shot."
<Well, that was easy.> Peter noted that the teasing light in her eye remained and amended his thought. <Way *too* easy.> He looked away from her and over to Jody, seeking to determine whether his suspicions that all the two women had given up on was stage one of their campaign to drive him crazy would be borne out.
Jody glanced at him long enough to unnerve him, then pointed out, "Hell, you're not the only one in this precinct who needs to learn how to win friends and influence people."
<And now we begin round two.> Peter knew exactly who she meant, knew the conversation had just come full circle to the question of his curiosity about this mystery that surrounded Kermit, but the temptation to pretend otherwise was too strong to ignore. "If I were you, I wouldn't talk too loud about how close the Chief is to a bull in a china shop when he goes on one of his rampages."
Jody laughed. "I'm not the only one who's on his hit list, partner."
Peter began to reply, but was distracted by Skalany's long-suffering sigh. "How many times do you have to be told? We warned you, now Captain Simms has warned you -- stay away from whatever the hell Kermit's wound up in. Jody and I have your best interests at heart." He laughed at that; she ignored his reaction and went on, "And I'm sure Captain Simms was quite diplomatic --"
"-- but firm," supplied Jody.
"-- diplomatic but firm about the need for you to stay out of it. Your choice, keep digging or heed our warnings. Just remember ... Kermit won't be anywhere near as polite as we've been if he finds out you're nosing around something he doesn't want you anywhere near."
Peter stifled a groan and rolled his eyes. He didn't have to worry about pissing off either Kermit or Captain Simms enough to get his ass nailed to the wall, he decided. No, Jody and Skalany were liable to drive him up said wall long before he got a chance to actually *do* anything about whatever was preoccupying Kermit. "How come every time I talk to the two of you today, I come away from it feeling like I'm the fly that's been lured into the spider's web?"
Neither woman answered him. Getting the last word *should* have been a source of great satisfaction after the last few minutes ... so why did their silence unnerve him so?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
Annie smiled at the mellifluous tone of the man's voice, long familiar
to her ears. "I didn't think I needed a reason to call an old
friend," she countered lightly. "It's been a long time since we talked.
Too long. So I thought I'd touch base with you."
Steadman laughed, and the echo of that laugh through the phone lines caused Annie's heart to constrict with loneliness. She'd heard that same laugh the night she met her husband, shortly after Paul had realized she was blind. Then it had signaled her friend's amusement at her ability to "slip under the radar" of a trained observer. It hadn't occurred to Paul that she wasn't sighted until she asked Steadman if the waiter had brought her wine and he'd responded by telling her it was at three o'clock. When the proverbial light had finally dawned, Steadman had found it more hilarious than she had, though hardly as funny as she and Paul often had in retrospect. Accordingly, he'd laughed, the sound the same one that carried across the telephone wires now.
Then his laughter had annoyed her, although she hadn't been certain if she was taking umbrage on Paul's behalf or her own. Now ... now the sound of that laugh merely caused her to miss her absent husband even more, which she hadn't thought was possible.
Rousing herself from her maudlin musings, Annie fought down the urge to ask if he'd heard from -- or about -- Paul. Her husband's whereabouts weren't the issue now. Clearing Kermit's name of Kevin Drako's murder was. "It must be longer than I thought since we talked if you find it so amusing that I'd call to touch base."
"Annie, I've known you too long for you to fool me. There aren't many people in this city who remember Annie Corcoran *or* her penchant for ... smoke and mirrors, shall we say?"
Laughter burst from her throat, despite her efforts to maintain her composure. "Oh, with Paul away, you, Rykker, and Kermit might be the only ones who knew me before I was Annie Blaisdell, but I hardly think that you're the only ones who know I can put one over on someone with the best of them. I doubt it would come as a surprise to either my children or my friends that on occasion I've ... enjoyed little tricks like the one I played on Paul the night we met." She paused, then added, "But I should have realized you know me too well. I didn't call just to chat. I need a favor from you."
"Anything, Annie. You've only to ask, you know that."
Annie sighed, certain his expansive mood would deflate as soon as she made her request. "I need everything you can get your hands on concerning a Kevin Drako. Try any variations you might need to. I don't know the correct spelling."
There was a lengthy silence at the other end of the line, then Steadman declared, "This is hardly a matter you want to mess with. I'd advise you to let it lie. I intend to let it lie."
Annie used her left hand to coil the telephone cord around the third and fourth fingers of her right hand, seeking to occupy both so she could resist the temptation to slam a fist on the table in frustration. Damn it all to hell, he knew her too long to patronize her by suggesting he had the right to determine how much risk she should be willing to take. And damn it to hell, if Kermit had as few clues about what he was dealing with as he'd seemed to possess, there was no way on earth that Steadman could accurately assess the risk involved merely by hearing Drako's name. "You owe me," she returned, iron present in her soft voice.
"That debt was paid in full. And then some."
"Those two times when Peter needed your help? You forget who you're talking to. You forget how long *I've* known *you*. The first time you assisted my son, you were repaying an old debt to Paul, which you freely admitted to me not long after. The second time, you knew Peter and, thus, were more than willing to lend your aid once you made your customary token protest. Oh, perhaps your decision both times was influenced by the knowledge that he was my son, but the debt you owe me never came into play."
"Annie, I'd suggest you reconsider. Kevin Drako isn't an issue that lends itself much to investigation, if you grasp my meaning."
"I'll take that chance. I'm calling in my marker, Steadman."
"You don't want to get involved in this."
"You owe me," she repeated slowly, stressing each word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit once again found himself parking his car at somewhere other than where he worked or lived. Today he had been woken by a nightmare that had only worsened during his waking hours. At this point he wouldn't have placed a bet on when or even if he would ever see the quiet comfort of his own office or even his own bed again. He had enough people trying to unearth information on Kevin Drako that he knew he really didn't need to deal with the man he was about to contact. However, if anyone might know when the others hadn't, it would, with his luck, be him.
God, how he hated Lasher. Kermit knew that he would never have to see Lasher face to face on this one. That wasn't how they'd worked together for the past several years -- unless, of course, they had to deal with each other concerning hostage situations involving the 101st. But this had nothing to do with the 101st, and the need to ask Lasher for help grated on his nerves. God help him, even with all the help he'd already enlisted, he was reduced to hoping that Lasher could come up with something.
Kermit entered the library and walked over to one of the computers that lined the far wall of the main reading room. For what he was going to do, he could use neither the computer at work nor his laptop and cell phone. Those items could be traced too easily, he feared, after the phone call Karen had received. One thing that he didn't want or need was for people to find out more about not only his past, but also the pasts of those helping him out.
Cursing the mysterious caller who'd brought him to sink so low as to request Lasher's aid, Kermit logged onto one of the secret e-mail accounts he maintained and began to type in the address for Lasher's private account. At least neither of them had to worry about being discovered when communicating this way, he thought. Kermit had initiated this system a long time ago, with enough firewalls in place that even the best hacker would have a hard time trying to trace the communications. So why didn't that make him feel secure now?
<What the hell do I say?> Kermit wondered. It had been so much easier with the others because he more than got along with all of them. Indeed, he called them friend. Jack Lasher, however, was a different story. Kermit and Lasher couldn't stand each other, even though they'd worked together on many occasions. Mutual respect existed, but that was all either was willing to grant the other.
There had been occasions on which Kermit had researched something for Lasher in recent years, but he had hoped to never call in one of those favors. Unfortunately, now he had no choice.
Forcing himself to stop stalling, Kermit began to type a short message. <Quick and to the point.>
NEED INFORMATION IN REGARDS TO 'OLD FRIEND' INITIALS KJD FROM NIC. CONTACT ME USUAL MEANS. -K
Hopefully his questions would be answered -- soon. He would have to meet up with Blake later to see if anything came out of this e-mail.
After closing the program, Kermit left the library, heading for the 101st. For what felt like the hundredth time in the past few hours, there was nothing else that he could do except wait. He chafed under that constraint because he hated waiting with a passion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit decided to make a detour before heading back to the 101st, allowing himself a little indulgence in the form of a late lunch. The day had already been long and hard, and it was only partially over. A sandwich from his favorite deli, hastily gobbled down, tasted like sawdust; if he'd been a fanciful man, he might have thought Kevin Drako was reaching out from the grave to rob his life of every sensation that made it other than drab.
As he walked back into the stationhouse and made his way to his office, Kermit glanced around to determine whom he had to avoid. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was Peter Caine trying to press him for information. Frankly, he was afraid of what he might do if the kid got involved. Opening the office door, he noticed Blake sitting behind his desk. "Comfortable, Blake?" he inquired, suppressing a chuckle when the other man jumped.
"Damn it, Kermit."
Kermit let out a small laugh as he maneuvered around Blake, putting away the Desert Eagle. "Are you here for a social call or is there something in particular I can help you with?"
Blake stood, moved away from Kermit's chair, and closed the door. "Actually, I have information for you in regards to that little matter that you have a personal stake in."
Kermit reclaimed his chair and turned his full attention to the other man. "I guess you haven't been out of the business that long, Blake. You still sound as cryptic as ever."
Blake ignored the comment and continued speaking as if he never had been interrupted. "A mutual former -- and present -- colleague of ours informs me that the feelers are out and trying to gather information."
Kermit nodded. "So our acquaintance didn't say anything else?" he asked, fully aware Blake had to be referring to Lasher.
Blake shook his head. "Just that he'll look into the matter with his contacts and that you shouldn't hope for much since the guy's been dead for damn near twenty years."
"Like I don't know that." Kermit cast his glance toward the ceiling, gathering his troubled thoughts. "All right, but if you come up with anything, if you hear anything else, you let me know right away."
Blake nodded. "He also said that if he hears anything he'll contact you through the usual means and that he'll have it there tomorrow, whatever that means." Blake than turned a hard gaze on Kermit. "I do, however, want to stress for the record yet again that I don't like going behind the Captain's back on this. I don't know how long we can keep her in the dark. Of course, I'm just as clueless as she is right now, but . . ."
"Objection noted." Kermit turned to his computer, his demeanor dismissing his friend. "Just keep quiet, Blake, and everything will turn out for the best. And if you don't mind, close the door behind you on your way out."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blake looked back at Kermit's office door and sighed. God, he hated being placed in the middle. He had been there for Kermit for a long time, but it was never easy for him to go behind the back of someone he respected as much as he did Captain Simms, even if doing so was necessary to maintain a friendship. Kermit had saved his life more times over the years than he cared to admit, and Blake always was willing to repay at least a small part of that debt Griffin would never have called in by helping him. But he hated the fact that this time Kermit's secretive nature might cost him everything that he had worked so hard to build here. Blake just hoped that things would calm down and work out for the best in the end -- and that Captain Simms wouldn't corner him.
As Blake crossed to his desk, he glanced over to the Captain's office
and saw Simms standing in her doorway watching him. Damn, he couldn't get
out of meeting with her. Catching her eye, he inclined his head toward
the stairs leading to one of the
interrogation rooms. The last thing he wanted was for Kermit to see
them talking. Karen nodded and remained at her door as Blake started down
the steps.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few minutes later, Karen entered the interrogation room. Blake started
to get to his feet, but she waved a hand to indicate he
should remain seated. "You have something for me?" Hoping and praying
that he did, she fought the urge to cross her fingers.
Blake nodded and sighed. "You know how much I hate going behind his back like this. You know that." Karen nodded sympathetically, but remained silent, allowing Blake to gather his thoughts. "I got a call -- well, a message -- from one of our mutual acquaintances. He told me -- actually, he told me to tell Kermit -- that he would check on this Drako character and get back to Kermit tomorrow using their usual contact drill."
"Names, Blake. It would help a great deal if I had those," Karen instructed as she sat down on the corner of the table.
Blake lowered his head. "Lasher and a man named Mackensie, Mac we call him."
Karen bolted to her feet, wondering if she looked as shocked as she felt. "Lasher, as in the Jack Lasher who commands SWAT?" Blake nodded. "He actually agreed to *help* Kermit? Willingly?" Blake nodded again; she surmised that he was operating under the belief that if he didn't really say anything he could deny ever talking to her, should Kermit pin him down. "Who is this Mackensie?" <And why the hell is the fact that such a common name sounds familiar bothering me?>
Blake shook his head and raised his hands in a classic defensive gesture. "Oh no, Captain. I've told you enough already. I don't even know where Mac is at the moment, and, all appearances to the contrary, he's not really someone that you want to mess with. He's very loyal to Kermit, and I can almost guarantee that he won't help you."
Karen allowed a few moments of silence to elapse as she processed this new information. When the day had started she'd had little idea who in this town had been either a part of the "Circus" or a mercenary. Now she was beginning to get a broader picture of Kermit's past and the ties he retained to his former colleagues. The knowledge that so many of these people were here in this city unnerved her a bit, especially since instinct told her she'd only scraped the surface. Nevertheless, Karen was grateful that Kermit had people he could turn to, that he didn't need to handle things alone. She only wished that he would turn to her.
"Don't worry, Blake, I'll take care of things. Thank you. I know how much you don't want to betray Kermit, even if it'll help him more in the long run." She hesitated, then repeated, "Thank you."
Karen turned and left the room, heading straight for her office. No
footsteps followed her, and she smiled slightly, realizing that
Blake was playing things safe and making sure they weren't seen together.
Once outside her own office, she stole a quick glance at Kermit's closed
door and sighed. <You've led an interesting life, Kermit, and the intrigue
doesn't seem to be anywhere near slowing down. If only you would let me
in.> That thought resounding in her already pounding head, she opened her
office door and prepared to continue her own private search.
<Damn it!> Karen debated answering the call or simply leaving the office for the day, as she'd been about to do when the phone rang. Ending a day from hell and going home provided a strong lure in one direction, the guilt she would feel if she failed to discharge her responsibility as precinct commander an equally strong attraction in the opposite direction. Yet neither was strong enough to decide her. Her line rang a second time, causing the prospect of another phone call from the stranger who'd first raised the specter of Kevin Drako to flash through her mind. Karen sighed, cast one last longing glance at the office door, and crossed back to her desk. Depositing her briefcase on one of the visitors' chairs with one hand, she reached over and scooped up the receiver with the other. "Captain Simms."
"Karen, it's Annie."
She relaxed at the sound of the other woman's voice, switching the receiver to the usual hand and leaning one hip against her desk. "Please tell me the reason you didn't wait for me to call you is that you have something for me."
"I guess I won't ask how the rest of your day went." Annie let out a light laugh, then continued, "I had hoped you might have learned something substantial, but apparently that isn't the case."
If she'd been sitting down, Karen would have slumped in her chair as she answered. As it was, she sighed heavily, knowing the sound would convey her utter frustration to Annie's sensitive ears. "Only if learning certain details of my officers' pasts can be classified as substantial."
"Say no more," Annie instructed. "I think I know what you're referring to, and it's probably wisest for us not to discuss it. After all, the phones may have ears."
Karen laughed in spite of herself. "I wouldn't put it past him."
"Which him?"
Thinking she could almost hear the smile in Annie's voice, Karen replied, "Either one of them, to be perfectly honest. Aside from the lesson learned in that arena, I haven't had much success. Kermit's as secretive as ever, Peter's determined to stick his nose in where it doesn't belong, and no one else knows any more than what I already surmised -- that Drako was bad news." She hesitated, considering what she'd just said. "Or, at least, no one admits to knowing more than that."
"I have a feeling Drako's being bad news is the tip of the iceberg." Annie's tone was thoughtful, her words deliberate. "I got the run around from a friend I've known longer than I've known Paul. He hasn't offered me anything solid yet, but he was so wary of becoming involved in this that I had to call in a marker to get him to agree to look into this matter for me. I'll let you know when I hear anything more, but I wanted to give you an update before you left the precinct for the night."
"Didn't want to keep me waiting for a call, did you?"
"No, I figured you'd appreciate it if you could count on something, even if it was only a minor update. I knew I would if the situation was reversed." She was silent for a beat, then continued, "And, Karen ..."
"Yes?"
"A word of advice. Be careful. I don't have any more idea than you do of exactly what we've stumbled into by looking into Kermit's connection with Drako, but the more I hear of it, the more convinced I am that you're both courting danger."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit sat at his computer, trying to focus on the work that had been piling up all day. Now that all he could do about the Drako matter was wait, he had to act as normally as possible so that no one would suspect that something was up. He snorted. Imagining that half the precinct didn't already know was pushing the limits of wishful thinking to their outer extreme. Still ... maybe actually working on his case load would discourage them from asking many questions. Queries from colleagues were the last thing that he needed at the moment, he thought, groaning. The phone rang; without taking his eyes off the computer screen, Kermit extended an arm and picked it up on the first ring. "Griffin."
"I have information for you," John Durham stated. "Just let me know when and where."
Kermit allowed himself a small smile, grateful that his friends worked as fast as they did. He'd owe a lot of favors when all was said and done, but the only ones he'd hate owing would be any he might end up owing Lasher. "I'm meeting with Mac tomorrow. Why don't you meet us then? That way we can get our heads together and maybe come up with something."
"When and where?"
"Five o'clock in the morning, Madison Park. Mac said to give him *about* eighteen hours, but he'll be early. Think you can get away?" Despite his own troubles, Kermit could resist neither that last question nor the knowing edge to his voice.
As usual, Durham was unflappable. "As easily as you can, if not more so," he returned. "Don't worry, I'll be there. And Kermit, be careful," John warned.
After Durham hung up, Kermit stared at the receiver in his hand for a couple of seconds, thinking how grateful he was that John was still part of his life. Between his own investigatory work, the assistance of his two old friends, and, hopefully, the information Lasher would provide, he just might have all of his questions answered in the morning.
Now all he had to do was keep Karen out of the way and safe until everything was settled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Strident and piercing, the sound of her pager going off startled Karen enough that she nearly lost control of the steering wheel. She cursed under her breath and pulled over to the side of the road, not trusting herself to check the device otherwise. The headache that had finally abated to the point where it was no more than a source of mild annoyance returned full force as if the pain knew how rudely she'd been jarred from her effort to piece together the puzzle presented by the late Kevin Drako.
At first Karen didn't recognize the number scrolling across the pager's narrow screen, then the neighborhood in which the exchange was located pricked the recesses of her memory. She fished her cell phone out of her purse, directing a baleful glare at the hated device as she realized she'd forgotten to turn it off the last time she made a call. That lapse told her not to use the number on her pager screen when she returned this call; if the man who'd paged her thought his office number secure enough for the conversation ahead he'd have called her cellular directly.
Karen shook her head at the level of security precautions being taken and dialed his cellular number. He picked up on the first ring, stating her name as though the identity of his caller was a foregone conclusion -- which, she mused, it probably was. "John, am I the only one who's struck by the idea that jumping through these particular hoops doesn't exactly make this call any more secure? If someone's that interested, I'm sure they're capable of intercepting *both* our cell phones." She winced at the sound of traffic rushing past, holding a hand over her left ear so she could hear the voice speaking into her right ear.
He chuckled. "Actually, I was thinking of the possibility that you'd be with Kermit when I called. The probability that he'd think your pager going off anything other than official business is certainly low enough for you to have been able to make the necessary excuses to find a quiet place to take this call."
"Quiet doesn't appear to be in the cards at the moment," she admitted ruefully. "Given the fact that I'm in my parked car on a downtown street that's one of the city's busiest commuter routes at this hour, that is."
"Would you prefer I call you back at a more convenient time?"
"Not on your life," Karen blurted out, only belatedly registering the teasing note that had been in Durham's voice.
John chuckled. "I didn't think you would."
"You know me too well."
"I've always had good instincts about people," he agreed, his tone avuncular. "Especially when those people are important to my close friends."
"What are those instincts telling you now?" Karen asked, hoping he'd interpret the query the way she meant it.
"That Kermit's a fool to try to freeze you out of this when your skills
could prove a valuable asset. Not that either one of us can
do anything to correct that error right now. Those instincts cut both
ways, though."
"Personally and professionally. Yes, I know."
"My instincts are also telling me that you and Kermit both need to watch your step. Be careful, Karen."
"John." Karen waited until she was certain she had his attention, then pointed out, "You haven't told me yet what you managed to find out."
"Only because I don't have a complete picture yet. I've found a few interesting facts looking into the man's finances, but I'll need some more time following that trail before I'm satisfied I've discovered all there is to discover. You'll have whatever I've turned up tomorrow morning, Karen."
<After you feed the information to Kermit?> Karen couldn't decide whether to feel grateful that Kermit had such loyal friends or annoyed that even this man who'd become her friend as well was giving her the run around. "Did you turn up anything more about his death?"
"I run into stone walls everywhere I turn when I start asking questions
on that. I'll make some further attempts once London's
open for business tomorrow morning. He was one of yours, not one of
ours, but perhaps there was some cross-border cooperation in the matter.
In any event, it's a possibility worth pursuing." He hesitated. "Karen.
I'm truly *not* satisfied that I've gone as far as I can with the financial
trail. I haven't offered him details yet either."
"Thank you. For everything. I'll look forward to hearing from you tomorrow morning then?"
"You should count on it. In the meantime, heed my warning, Karen -- be careful."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit collapsed onto his couch, took off his sunglasses, and ran his
hands over his tired eyes. It had been a long hard day, and he needed a
little peace and quiet. Picking up his beer off the coffee table, he sat
and thought about all that had happened in one day's time. Had it been
only yesterday evening when he had sat here with Karen, talking about life
in general and enjoying their time together? God, it seemed a lifetime
ago. Now he wondered if he would ever again have that calm
on which he'd grown to rely.
Before he could take another sip of beer, there was a knock at his door. <What now?> he thought as he stood and headed for the obnoxious sound. Opening the door, he saw Karen standing in the corridor, her suit jacket thrown over her arm, the blonde hair that had been held back from her face with combs earlier in the day flowing loosely down her back. The thought that she looked just as beautiful as he remembered flashed through his mind. He wondered at the oddity of his own thought process. He'd last seen her at the precinct a couple of hours before, so why in hell should he be surprised she still looked beautiful? <Christ, you'd think I hadn't seen her for years ... or that I was trying to memorize her looks in case we never saw each other again.>
"May I come in?" Karen's soft voice roused him from his reverie.
"Of course, Karen, come in." Recalling his manners, he gestured for her to enter, then closed the door behind her. "I didn't think you'd stop by tonight." It occurred to him that she could have used her key to his apartment instead of knocking. The fact that she hadn't sparked a pang of guilt. Had he treated her so badly today that she'd been uncertain she'd be welcome in his home tonight?
Karen walked past him into the living room, folded her jacket over a chair arm, and sat down on the couch before replying. "I wasn't sure I would, but then I realized that this is the only place I wanted to be." She offered him a small, tired smile.
Kermit reclaimed the cushion on which he'd been sitting earlier, slouching down and leaning his head back against the upholstery. "I'd like to think that you came just to spend some quality time with me, but I'd only be kidding myself, wouldn't I?" The question came out sounding more hostile than he'd intended. Kermit glanced over at Karen and saw confusion enter her eyes. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you."
"Apology accepted." Karen kicked off her heels and stretched her legs out before her, letting out a long sigh that sounded as though it blended contentment and exhaustion. "I'm too tired to argue. It's been a *long* day. But you are wrong if you even partly believe that I'd debate whether I want to spend time with you."
Kermit told himself if he was wise he wouldn't pursue the matter further.
Unfortunately, the directions issued by his brain didn't
seem to make it as far as his mouth. "So what's going on? Is this visit
because of that call you got this morning? I thought I told you it was
nothing to worry about."
Karen turned just enough to look him in the eye. "You did. Can't I come here to spend time with the man I love?" Kermit smiled at her query, hearing the truth behind her words. "I'll admit that I do have questions, and I know that for some reason you feel that you can't trust me."
"It's not that, Karen. I do trust you. It's just that as far as Drako's
concerned there's nothing to tell. It was a long time ago,
and there's nothing you need to worry about." The finality in his tone
would have convinced most people that the subject was off limits. He had
a sinking suspicion, though, that Karen wouldn't be warned off.
She placed a hand on his upper arm, giving him a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"Kermit, I know that this Kevin Drako is dead. We both know that. What
I want to know now is what happened way back when." Withdrawing her hand,
she shoved an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Look, I didn't go out
looking for this, trying to unearth some mystery from your past. I had
someone calling the precinct stating that you were somehow involved with
Drako's death and I know that the guy was bad news. What I want to know
is what in the hell is going on. What could this caller have on you that
could make you shut me out
like this?"
Her hand sought contact again, but Kermit pulled away, then stood and walked away from the couch -- and Karen. Part of him longed to break down and tell her everything that had happened in Nicaragua, everything leading up to Drako's death and all that had gone on afterwards. Another part of him, the part that was afraid of losing her, stopped him from opening up.
Couldn't she see that his secrecy stemmed from his well-honed survival instinct, that holding back the truth had saved his life on more occasions than he could count? In his line of work -- former line of work, he corrected himself -- he couldn't open up to anyone. Doing so could cost him his life and the lives of others, including those he was trying to help. Hell, he had been tortured on a few missions, but he'd still refused to tell his captors anything -- and had saved lives, including his own, with his silence. Why couldn't Karen seem to grasp that? Better yet, why were his insides in so much conflict, torn between doing as he'd always done and confiding in the woman he loved?
Turning back to face her, he told her in as even a tone as he could muster, "I'm not shutting you out of anything. What happened with Drako was a long time ago, and it's over. Can we just leave it at that? There is nothing going on, nothing that you need to worry about. If anything happens, I'll take care of it. Just stay out of it."
Karen rose and crossed the distance between them. Standing directly in front of him in her stocking feet, she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. That was nearly his undoing. Devoid of the professional armor that guarded the woman who commanded his precinct, she looked vulnerable, enough so that he considered telling her the truth in repayment for the hurt his words must have inflicted. He damned the fact that his sunglasses were halfway across the room, for he was certain she could look into his eyes and see the struggle going on within.
"If nothing's going on and there's nothing to worry about, why have you been out of the office so much today? Why have you been running scared? This isn't like you, Kermit. You don't run scared." She sighed, then went on, "Please tell me what's going on, what's got you acting this way."
Kermit felt his frustration reach the boiling point. <Damn this woman. She just doesn't quit,> the side of him that was intent on doing everything alone because the rest of the world couldn't possibly understand his life thought with disgust. <Hypocrite. That's exactly why you love her. You love the fact she doesn't take any of your crap,> the brutally honest side of him retorted. <Damn.> "Listen," he said, holding up one hand in warning, "... and I want you to hear me out. I repeat -- there is *nothing* that you need to worry about. Whoever this caller is, he doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing you need to get all worked up about. You can't do anything about it ... because there's nothing to do anything about."
Defiance flashed in Karen's eyes, darkening them to a nearly cobalt hue. "You can't shut me out, Kermit. One way or another I *will* find out what's going on. But I must admit that I would rather hear it from you than from some stranger on the phone. So tell me. Let me in." The conviction with which she'd begun her declaration lessened as she spoke, and she hesitated before adding a single pleading word. "Please."
Guilt stabbed at him for the way he was hurting Karen, yet Kermit fought
down the urge to reveal the truth. As far as he could tell, Karen was operating
on the premise that the devil you knew was easier to deal with than the
devil you didn't. But how could that be the case in this situation? At
least now he could preserve the illusion that he was worthy of her time,
that all the good done by the man he'd become outweighed the damage wrought
in the name of his country by the man he
had been. If she knew the truth ... if she knew the truth, she'd know
him to have the soul of a killer. He couldn't allow that, couldn't shatter
her belief in him -- because *he* couldn't withstand the pain of her disappointment.
"If we are ever going to make us work the way I thought we already did,
we have to be open with one another." Karen's voice, breaking the silence,
was laced with as much desperation as determination. "I am not going to
have a one-sided relationship again, Kermit. I refuse to get trapped in
the middle of that game again. You have to be there for
me, just as I am for you. We have to let each other in, no matter what.
*Please* let me in."
Kermit closed his eyes in an attempt to quell his sudden fear. <That's it, I'm losing her,> the pessimistic side of him thought. <*Tell her*,> his rational side tecommended. <Yeah, right, so that she'll definitely leave me. I can't lose her that way,> argued the first inner voice. He stifled a groan. So much for listening to his heart. "It's nothing, I promise." Some unknown compulsion toward honesty drove him to add, "Nothing I can't handle, anyway."
Karen spun away from him, barely leashed frustration apparent in every muscle of her body. Her gaze traveled toward one of the side tables flanking the sofa. Kermit followed the direction of her gaze with his eyes and froze as he noticed the small photo lying atop the burnished wood. <Shit.> If he was lucky, she wouldn't pay attention to the picture. Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky on his best day and she was far from that unobservant on her worst. Still ... maybe he'd catch *one* break today.
No such luck smiled on him. Karen walked directly to the table, heading
toward the piece of furniture as if following a homing
beacon. Kermit's heart plummeted when she picked up the snapshot and
looked at the faces imprinted on the glossy paper. He didn't need to be
close enough to actually see the photo to know *exactly* what she saw.
The image had been burned in
his mind long ago.
Three young children and a smiling woman, the prototypical happy family, looked out from the photo. The very normalcy of the picture of domesticity they presented was sure to strike her, to make her wonder. Although the photo was too far away for him to actually see its details, Kermit closed his eyes for a moment in a failed effort to block out the innocent eyes staring back at him -- and now, he knew, at Karen -- from the picture's depths.
"What's this?"
Kermit considered ignoring her question, but discarded the idea. The
last thing he wanted was for Karen to get any more suspicious, and refusing
to answer was a perfect way to guarantee that her suspicion would ratchet
up several notches. He crossed the room, pretending he had no idea why
she'd asked. Reaching her side, he glanced down at the item in her hand
for a second, then looked at Karen. Arguably, that wasn't the best move
with a woman who could read him too well for her
own good, but she was savvy enough that his usual fixation on the photo
would set off more warning bells in her mind. With his glasses out of easy
reach, he'd just have to risk what she could read in his eyes. "That? Just
a picture of one of my cousins and her family. I was doing some cleaning
the other day and found it."
Karen's eyes clouded over, indicating to Kermit that she'd recognized immediately that he was lying. Instead of calling Kermit on his prevarication, as he fully expected her to do, she set the picture down and met his gaze. "Kermit, I don't want to fight with you. I just want you to know that I will be there for you no matter what. Hard as it may be for you to believe, I don't care what you did in the past. All of that went into making you who you are now. And the man you are now is the man I love." She took his hand. "Do you hear me? I love you, and nothing you tell me or don't tell me about who you used to be will ever change that. It's just a lot harder not knowing. But either way, you're still worth it."
Kermit smiled and pulled her into an embrace. After listening to the depth of emotion vibrating in her voice, he couldn't have said anything even if he'd wanted to. Her arms wound around him, returning the embrace. Not for the first time, he marveled at how perfectly their bodies fit together, how *right* Karen felt in his arms. They stood there holding each other tightly but silently for several long minutes, as though afraid that the moment the quiet was shattered by the human voice, so too would be this small oasis of peace they'd unconsciously fashioned in the midst of a crazy world. Finally, he drew out of the embrace, holding her at arm's length, reluctant to relinquish the contact between their bodies entirely. "It's been a long day. How about we just call it a night?" he suggested.
Karen agreed readily, causing him to relax a bit. He had no idea what morning would bring, but at least she seemed to accept the fact that she wasn't going to get anything more out of him tonight. At least they would have one more night before the impending disaster he sensed in his bones could rain down on them. Kermit stared up at the ceiling, wondering how close the time was to five a.m. He hadn't slept all night, had hardly moved once Karen fell asleep in his arms. His mind was too active, running through possible scenarios the caller's mention of Kevin Drako had caused him to visualize. Every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd seen either Drako the night he died, the picture of Drako's family, or both images, one overlapping the other. As a result, he'd given up on sleeping for the night -- which didn't make morning come any faster.
Patterns of shadow and dim light, the latter cast by shafts of moonlight shining through what little window space was uncovered by the shade, painted the ceiling and walls, their composition providing no clue as to the time. Kermit's internal clock, on the other hand, was suggesting that enough hours had passed that he needed to get going if he intended to make it to Madison Park on time. Cautiously, he turned his head to look at the digital clock. Ten after four. It was time.
He slipped his arm out from underneath Karen, taking great care not to wake her, and got out of bed. Standing beside the bed for a moment, he looked down at her sleeping form and checked to ensure that her breathing remained characteristic of deep sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Karen more suspicious, as would be the case if he woke her. She already knew something was amiss; his leaving their bed at this hour would only encourage her to dig further into what that something was.
Barefoot, Kermit grabbed his glasses off the nightstand, gathered his clothes and the Desert Eagle, and moved stealthily into the bathroom to get dressed. Once dressed except for his shoes, he turned off the bathroom light and carried his shoes into the living room so that she wouldn't hear him. After he finished tying his shoes, Kermit picked up a pen and a pad of paper and wrote a quick note in order to ensure Karen didn't worry when she woke to find him gone -- and to throw her off his trail.
LEFT TO GET INFORMATION ON THE PATTERSON CASE FOR PETER. SORRY ABOUT THE QUICK EXIT. I'LL SEE YOU AT WORK. L- KERMIT
He debated leaving the letter in the living room, then decided he should know his own bedroom well enough to avoid stepping on any creaky floorboards. Making as little noise as possible, he walked back into the bedroom and placed the letter on the pillow next to her. Damn, he hated keeping her in the dark like this, but the last thing he wanted was for her to get any more involved than she already was. He couldn't allow her to possibly endanger her life for no better reason than her zeal to clear his name of a deed he actually had carried out.
As Kermit began to close the bedroom door, he gave in to the compulsion to turn one last time to look at the woman who had brightened his life, the woman who brought joy to his world even when all seemed worthless. <Things will get better, Karen, I promise,> he whispered, then gently closed the bedroom door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Karen rolled over, stretching her hand out ... and encountered empty space where she should have made contact with Kermit's body. Half-awake, she stirred languidly, shifting closer to his side of the bed. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed. She opened her eyes at the sound, fully awake immediately. Kermit was no longer in their bed, which told her that what she had heard was his apartment door closing.
<Oh, God.> Karen sat up, drew her knees up so that she could rest her elbows on them, and buried her head in her hands as she tried to shake off the remnants of sleep that fogged her brain. Kermit had gone off on his own again. That much she knew even before she'd gained clarity of thought.
Raising her head, she gathered the hair falling forward over her shoulder in one hand and impatiently swung it behind her. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and when she involuntarily glanced over to the empty pillow beside her she caught sight of the note. Karen sighed, making no move to retrieve the slip of paper; there would be time enough to read the note later. "Oh, Kermit, you're going to have to trust me sooner or later," she whispered.
First leaning over his pillow to turn on the light, she reached for the phone and dragged it onto the bed beside her. Unsure what fortuitous impulse had led her to bring her purse into the bedroom -- and leave it there -- last night, she thanked God for its proximity as she stretched to grab the bag, lifted it onto the bed, and opened it. After pulling out a slim leather-bound volume, she flipped to a page very near the front. One finger holding her place, Karen lifted the receiver and dialed a number that, until yesterday, she hadn't listed in her personal address book.
Two rings, then a groggy voice answered. "Blake, it's Karen." She listened
for a moment, grateful he hadn't questioned her putting this phone call
on such a personal basis. "I know what time it is, but I need you to do
me a favor ... Kermit just left to go somewhere, and I need answers ...
Do whatever you have to do, but don't get caught." She nearly laughed at
the snort and scathing remark that followed, inexplicably comforted that
he'd taken offense when she'd hinted at the possibility that he *could*
be caught. "I'll see you at work, and Blake. . .thanks." Karen hung up
the phone and sat staring at it, lost
in thought, for a moment before returning it to the table beside the
bed.
Every fiber of her being cried out to follow Kermit herself, but she knew that he would spot her instantly. She was good at that kind of surveillance, but not that good. Not when the man she was tracking was her lover. Not when he had a knack for sensing her presence the moment she walked into a room, even if his back was to her. Not when he'd explicitly warned her to stay out of it. Better to track a mercenary with a mercenary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit hurried down the asphalt trail, passing three of the park's few pre-sunrise joggers who were heading in the opposite direction, then took the same gravel path into the heart of the park as he had the previous day. As he arrived at the designated meeting place, its isolation made eerier by the lights installed by the city for safety reasons the year before, he immediately spotted the two men whom he had called there. <This is not how I pictured a reunion of all three of us,> he admitted as he made his way over to his two old friends.
"Mac, John, how are you this fine morning?" Kermit asked, his manner far more jovial than he felt. Griffin took a sip of the coffee he'd bought on his way here as he waited for a reply. He needed the coffee less to ward off the brisk chill of the early morning air, far more typical during autumn than the record-breaking highs of the past two days, than to send an infusion of caffeine into his bloodstream. He'd been up for nearly forty-five minutes, awake for more than twenty-four hours. Nevertheless, he wouldn't have classified himself as fully awake -- not if fully awake also meant fully alert.
Appraising the two men before him, each holding a steaming cardboard cup of his own, he became certain that neither was more awake than he was. Yesterday had been a long day for all of them. Kermit knew he would never forget their willingness to help, even without having all the facts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alex Drako settled into a hidden corner of the park, keeping to the shadows as he watched as much as the naked eye could see of every move his target made. "So, Griffin, still running scared? Bringing in all of your old murdering friends?" he whispered, his words lost in the early morning sounds of a city coming to life. "Let's see just how close you can get to me before I get to you and to the people you care about. You're making this so easy, Griffin. I must admit I'm disappointed you haven't been a worthier adversary. But soon ... soon we will meet and I will get my retribution. I will have my revenge."
He rummaged in the black canvas bag at his feet, pulling out a small radio receiver and a set of headphones. Slipping a pair of night-vision binoculars out of his windbreaker pocket and settling the headphones against his ears, he leaned against the gnarled trunk of an oak tree to watch the drama he'd set into motion with a single phone call play out further. Alex smirked, congratulating himself for having the forethought to have planted a small bug deep within the branches of a tree near where the men were meeting, a chance he'd taken hours before in the hopes that Griffin would use this meeting place again.
"I can't say that it's a good day yet. It's still far too early for
that." The clipped British tones came over the small device with
crystalline clarity, causing Drako to smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But at least people won't bother us here. All the sensible people are sleeping," Mac stated dryly, following his words with a weary smile.
"True." Kermit took another sip of coffee and waited, hoping they had come up with something that could help him.
Catching the hint that Kermit wasn't going to start the conversation,
John began to speak. "I ran the financial checks as
you asked."
"And?"
"And I find it intriguing that a man dead twenty years still has a nice
little fortune going for him. There have been recent
withdrawals from an account in Kevin Drako's name in a bank in Liechtenstein.
Specifically, those withdrawals were made via wire transfers to an individual
here in this city within the past couple of days."
Mac turned to Durham. "Meaning that someone from his organization is here?"
Kermit digested the information and shook his head. "I don't think that anyone who worked with Drako would be that stupid. They'd know how easy it is to track such transactions."
John nodded. "I concur. I encountered a rather large problem as I tried to trace the money back, though. I can't find out who made the withdrawals. All I could learn is that the account has been accessed by someone locally -- as late as a couple of hours ago."
Mac shook his head. "That would be our mysterious caller, I'd guess."
"Yeah, but who the hell is he?" Kermit looked from Mac to John, barely able to restrain his impatience.
Mac shrugged. "From what Lasher and I have been able to find out -- many thanks to you for instigating that contact, by the way, my friend --"
Kermit chuckled. "You didn't honestly expect me to spend several hours on research in a locked room with Lasher, did you?"
Mac glared at him and continued, "As I was saying, from what Lasher and I have been able to piece together, your caller has a contact locally. Maybe here in the city, but definitely within the state. Someone close by, in any event. We're working on a name, but we've had no luck as of yet. However, I have been able to dig up some information on Drako's family." Kermit noted the spark of heightened interest in John's eyes, then turned his full attention to Mac. "His wife died about ten years ago in a car crash. It was ruled an accident, but the details are sketchy at best. I wouldn't rule out anything."
"Perhaps the caller wanted to get rid of her to stop her from talking about what her husband was really doing," John theorized.
"Maybe, but I don't think so. I'm sure she knew enough to pose a danger to any of his men who survived, but I'm also sure she was loyal to his memory."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, her kids never knew the truth about their father, that much I can say with certainty," declared the voice Alex Drako had learned to identify as belonging to Kermit Griffin.
Alex closed his eyes briefly, listening to these three men talk about the father he had sworn to avenge. <What do any of them know about the family, really? Not a damn thing. I swear to you, Griffin, if you try to sully the Drako name, I will not be responsible for what happens to you.>
The other American voice was picked up by the bug again. "Anyway. . ."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"... I can say that it seems the kids turned out all right. The eldest
is a doctor in New York, a pretty good one at that. He's
a heart surgeon or something like that," Mac stated with a shrug.
Kermit snorted at what he recognized as a pathetic attempt at humor, making a mental note to harass Mac about it once his life got back to normal. Exchanging a glance with John, he realized that his friend was as unimpressed by Mac's supposed levity as he was.
"The middle child is a Marine," Mac continued, "and the youngest is a chemist."
"A chemist?" John asked, sounding more awake than he had since Kermit arrived at the meeting. "Doesn't it seem a little strange to you that the son of the man who tried to unleash a deadly virus is a chemist?"
"Oh yeah, more than a little. And one is a Marine. Now isn't that a pretty little picture? I'd imagine 'a little strange' is a vast understatement. What were you able to dig up on the chemist?"
"Not much. He lives in a small town in Georgia, just outside Atlanta. He works for, last I heard anyway, the ... get this ..."
"Just spit it out, Mac," Kermit growled. "It's too early to drag your story out for the dramatic effect. And I lost my patience for this a long time ago."
"The Centers for Disease Control."
"Now that's something to go on," John commented, brows knitted in thought. "If he works for them -- and he found out about his father -- I'd wager that he just might be trying to continue his father's work, perhaps even using their laboratories for his own ends rather than the purposes for which they're intended. What about the Marine?"
"He's stationed in Spain. He has a clean record, nothing out of the ordinary. Neither Lasher nor I turned up any holes in his service record that could indicate involvement with black ops. He works with Security Force."
"Looks like we have two prime suspects then." Kermit paused, reconsidering his words. <Or maybe that's what we're supposed to think.> "Until we know more, better make that three," he amended. "All we need to know now is where each of them is at the moment."
Mac shrugged. "I can't help you there. I'll see what I can come up with, but no promises. Maybe Rykker could help with that, but I think I've about tapped my sources dry. At least as dry as I can manage in one day."
Kermit nodded in understanding. "I'd appreciate whatever more you can do. Both of you." He looked from one man to the other as he spoke. "Thanks for your help. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."
"Any time, Kermit, but let's wait a couple of months before the next emergency, shall we?" John inquired. "If we come up with anything on the sons, we'll let you know."
"Thanks." Some impulse he couldn't quite put his finger on made Kermit add, "Take care, and be safe." Hearing himself say the words sent a chill down his spine; he sounded as though he were taking leave of his old friends for the last time.
The three men split up to make their way through the park toward their respective cars. Kermit had learned a lot this morning, but the information his friends had unearthed raised even more questions. <Now to try and find something on Patterson by the time Karen makes it to the station so that I don't look like a total fool.>
As he neared the deserted lot where he'd parked his car, Kermit thought he heard a noise coming from behind one of the trees. He followed the direction of the sound, but found nothing to reinforce his instinct that its source was human. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. <You're getting old, Griffin. Maybe you *are* jumping at shadows.> Kermit closed his eyes to try to regain his focus, then headed toward his car, intent on going to the precinct to make some headway on his "reason" for leaving Karen so early.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Just a picture of one of my cousins and her family. Just a picture of one of my cousins and her family. Just a picture of one of my cousins and her family.* Kermit's all too carefully neutral voice the night before echoed in Karen's ears, his explanation of the photo she'd found on his end table thundering around her as though the words were being shouted *now*, in this very office. Only he hadn't shouted the words, she reminded herself. He'd answered her question about the identity of the woman and three children in the photo as quietly and as casually as though she'd asked whether he preferred red wine or white. Paradoxically, his nonchalance had frightened her more -- still frightened her more -- than would have his exhibiting anger at her finding the picture.
He'd been lying. Karen knew that with the same certainty with which she knew that she loved him, the same automatic instinct with which she knew that he returned that love. In life, even the life of a police officer, there were certain constants which would not change. Until yesterday, Karen would have said that there were three aspects of her world which could not change, as long as both she and Kermit were alive. Her love for him and his for her were two of those elements. The knowledge that he would never outright *lie* to her was the third. True, he'd keep secrets from her, fail to tell her everything, shield large chunks of his past from her curiosity. But look her in the eye and create a complete falsehood in the guise of answering her questions? That possibility had never occurred to her ... until last night.
Narrowing her eyes in thought, Karen acknowledged the inconsistency inherent in placing such emphasis on mere semantics. She was defining "lie" as a deliberate falsehood, ignoring those lies of omission and of protection that littered her time with Kermit as though they weren't lies at all. No matter how hard she tried to file them in some other category, the truth was that every moment of their relationship had been touched by what he chose to conceal from her.
Yet she understood why a man as private as Kermit deflected questions
about his past, why a man as protective as Kermit sought to shield her
from his pain. She even understood why a man with so complicated a past
first refused to exhibit recognition of Kevin Drako's name and then tried
to sell her on the notion that nothing she needed to worry about had happened
with Drako. It might infuriate her that he *still* felt he needed to be
that way, even with her, but she could grasp the reasons for his actions.
And, comprehending that logic, she could accept his secretive nature while
recognizing that it didn't
compromise his integrity.
The lie about the picture, on the other hand, Karen couldn't understand
at all. In the ways that counted most, Kermit was the
most honest man she'd ever met. Yes, he was secretive, intensely private,
and prone to either hiding various elements of his life from those around
him or casting them in a light that belied much of the reality he revealed.
His wisecrack months ago about having missed his senior prom due to a mercenary
mission in Costa Rica was a case in point. But he was also a man whose
word was his bond -- not usually, not even ninety-nine percent of the time,
but unfailingly. He was a man who, in the privacy of his own home, was
not too inhibited to exhibit emotion. And, much as he might seek to hide
that side of himself, he was a man willing to sacrifice anything -- including
his own life -- for those he loved.
None of those characteristics fit with the lie about the photograph. The Kermit Griffin she knew would have sought to divert her attention from the picture or told her there was nothing important about it. He wouldn't have lied to her face.
<Why are you lying to me about something as minor as an old snapshot,
Kermit?> Karen wondered. This had to be connected, in some way, to Kevin
Drako ... but how? She thought for a moment, then froze, consumed by a
sudden fear. Drako had died nearly twenty years before, according to what
both John Durham and Blake had told her. What if --
God, what if that photo were of Kevin Drako's family?
Another possibility shot through her mind, that of the photo being of *Kermit's* family, of his own wife and children. Karen discarded that thought as quickly as it came. She had no doubt that he had been honest with her about his past relationships, that when he'd told her about his son upon his return from Vermont he'd been sharing a truth without parallel, that both she and Kermit had only one child. No, this photo was no more of Kermit's wife and children than of the relatives he'd claimed it depicted.
If the picture *was* of Kevin Drako's wife and children, it could hold the key to the call she'd received yesterday. But she had to prove the identities of the people in the picture first. And that meant disproving Kermit's false claim of the night before.
Karen lifted her phone, then hesitated. Her first thought had been to call Marilyn, but Kermit wouldn't take kindly to her dragging his sister into this. And, really, what could the other woman tell her that she didn't already know? Much to Kermit's consternation, she'd spent hours on end one weekend poring over Marilyn's photo albums. She knew that none of those in the photo looked like any member of the Griffin family or, for that matter, like anyone on the Donnellan side of the family. So calling Marilyn would accomplish nothing but to confirm her own knowledge, worry Marilyn needlessly, and anger Kermit.
Still, she needed answers. Karen debated where to turn next, then began to dial. She waited three rings for the phone to be answered, then said, "Annie, it's Karen. I've got ... a situation, I guess you'd call it. Kermit lied to me last night. Not the usual way, but an outright lie, right to my face. And I think -- no, scratch that, I'm sure -- it's connected to Kevin Drako." Karen paused, listening as Annie questioned her about what had happened. "I found a photograph of a woman and three children. Actually, I should say I spotted it; it was lying on one of the tables by the sofa. When I asked him about it, he told me it was a photo of his cousin and her family."
"Kermit doesn't have any cousins. At least none he keeps in touch with. And I don't recall Marilyn ever having mentioned one with three children."
"I know, that's what I figured. Especially since there's no resemblance
to *anyone* I've seen in Marilyn's photo albums. Annie,
he said he found the picture a few days ago while cleaning. If that
were really the case, I'd have seen it before now." Karen sighed, then
continued, "He didn't expect me to see it because he didn't expect me to
come over last night after he stonewalled me about Drako. That photograph
may bear a likeness to a Norman Rockwell portrait of a happy mother and
children, but there's nothing innocent about its place in Kermit's life.
I'd bank my life on it."
"You think they're Kevin Drako's wife and children, don't you?"
Karen shrugged as she answered, "Yes, I do. I don't know, maybe I'm jumping at shadows here. Maybe that's too far-fetched an idea." Hearing the uncertainty that crept into her voice, she winced.
Annie's laughter was warm and rich. "Knowing Kermit, thinking it's the Drako family's not a stretch at all. Do you want me to ask some questions about Drako's family?"
"Would you?"
"Certainly." Annie was silent for a moment, then asked, "Karen, you understand why Kermit would have that picture, don't you?"
"Of course." Her laugh was humorless. "For whatever reason, he believes he owes them something. And that picture's his reminder that he has yet to pay that debt."
~~~~~
Kermit rifled through the stack of case files that needed his attention, trying to find one that posed a riddle complex enough to distract him from his own troubles. Catching a glimpse of the activity in the bullpen out of the corner of his eye, he resisted the urge to draw the blinds and hoped that he didn't look as anxious as he felt. He hated waiting, especially when every lead he got on the Drako matter seemed guaranteed to add to his problems.
A stray sheet of paper clung to the bottom of the manila folder he'd
just lifted. Kermit peeled it off, skimmed its contents, and
groaned. The document had fallen out of the materials on the Patterson
case that he'd handed off to Peter an hour and a half earlier. He looked
out into the squad room, then back to the paper in his hand, and shook
his head.
No way in hell. Wild horses weren't going to drag him out of this office until he had something solid to go on, something with the potential to rid him of Kevin Drako's ghost for once and for all. Not after the look he'd seen on Karen's face when he delivered to Peter what he'd turned up. For one fleeting, unguarded moment, she'd looked shocked that he'd actually carried through on what his note had said he was doing. That meant he hadn't fooled her into thinking he'd left so early for any reason unrelated to the call she'd received the morning before.
Even now, the memory of her undisguised astonishment tore at him. Deception was a skill he'd learned long ago, one which was second nature to him by now. Yet he hated lying to Karen. He was sorely tempted to tell her the whole truth about Drako, but the last thing he wanted was to get her any more involved than she already was.
<Oh yeah, like she can *get* much more involved,> an inner voice
taunted him. Loath to admit that was true, he nonetheless had to face facts.
Despite his best efforts to short circuit her unofficial investigation,
she was gathering substantive information.
Information that Kermit had been trying his damnedest to keep away
from her.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, he decided. He had a pretty good idea who was feeding her those details, but he could do nothing to thwart it without jeopardizing his own sources. However .... A feral grin touched his lips as he selected a case file that looked promising. If he saw or heard them going to her behind his back, then he would have solid grounds to raise hell.
Flipping open the folder he'd grabbed, Kermit set to work deciphering the conundrum presented by the case before him. Peter had dropped this one on his desk that morning, but not before subjecting Griffin to another round of questioning. When it suited him, the kid could be utterly oblivious to indications his help wasn't wanted, Kermit reflected sourly. The last thing he needed was for Peter to stick his nose into this mess. Karen's involvement was bad enough, but unavoidable once the caller had spoken to her. He didn't want anyone else in on this unless it would work to his advantage, and he couldn't see how Peter could possibly help him out. Not to mention how little he wanted Peter to know Paul had even a tangential connection to Drako's death.
The phone rang, jolting Kermit out of his thoughts. He reached for the receiver, hoping that someone had found him some other clue to pursue. "Griffin."
"Good to hear you're not locked away somewhere. I think I've learned a few things that you might like to know about our dear friend Drako."
Kermit's spine went rigid. "Don't keep me in suspense here, Rykker. It's not like you."
The sound of Rykker's laugh made Kermit want to reach through the phone and rip the details out of the other man. "Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Quirk?"
Kermit froze. Did he remember Quirk? <Oh yeah.> He remembered all too well the last he'd heard of him, after Quirk had held the 101st, including Karen and an abandoned infant, hostage on Christmas Eve. "What about him?" Kermit asked, not bothering to restrain the venom in his voice.
"I have it on the best authority that the man you are looking for was personally trained by your 'friend' Quirk. It appears that Drako and Quirk used to be rather good friends and that they worked closely together throughout the years. Whoever is behind your little mess right now, Quirk is sure to know who it is," Rykker informed him.
Kermit keyed a few commands into his computer, trying to learn Quirk's current location. He hadn't gone to sentencing yet, which didn't exactly add to Kermit's confidence in the criminal justice system, so most likely he would still be locked up in the city jail. Now all he had to do was verify that suspicion and go to check it out. "Thanks, Rykker, I owe you one," Kermit said, his tone distracted, before he hung up the phone.
Once the information he needed appeared on the screen, Kermit printed it out and shut down his computer. He had somewhere to be, and someone to question. And God help anyone who got in his way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Captain, phone."
Karen started at the sound of Peter's voice, then raised her gaze from the open file cabinet drawer as she removed a folder. Instead of turning to Peter, she found herself looking past him and through the office's plate glass window, her attention drawn by the activity in the bullpen. <Where are you going and what does it have to do with Kevin Drako?> she wondered silently as she watched Kermit cross the room on his way out, first making a stop by Blake's desk. Distracted, she didn't respond to Peter for some moments.
"Captain?"
With a conscious effort, Simms tore her gaze away from the squad room. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a red light flashing on her phone as she shifted her focus back to Peter. "Since Broderick hasn't moved from the front desk since I arrived this morning, I'm going to guess that you just got another call on your line that I need to handle. Am I correct, Detective?"
Peter nodded, his demeanor a bit more subdued than she'd have expected, given the curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Same guy as yesterday, it sounds like. A little more insistent on talking to you and talking to you *now*, though. Captain, if you want, I'd be glad to handle this."
Simms shook her head as she crossed back to her chair. "This isn't your concern, Detective, except insofar as the caller appears intent on using you as a conduit." She sighed, sitting down and reaching for the phone. "I suppose I'd better find out what our mysterious caller wants today." Instead of moving to return to his desk, Peter remained immobile just inside the office doorway. "Kindly shut the door behind you as you leave."
To his credit, Peter offered only a sheepish grin, rather than a protest, before he followed her instructions. "Captain Simms," she barked into the receiver.
"Have you had sufficient time to determine what Kermit Griffin recalls of Kevin Drako, Captain? Or does he deny his culpability in his murder?"
"At the moment, I'm more interested in learning what *you* believe I should know about Kevin Drako's death than in discussing what Detective Griffin may or may not have said." The unwelcome sensation of being watched struck her; she glanced out into the bullpen to discover that Peter had found himself the perfect vantage point from which to watch her phone call. Simms gave serious consideration to the notion that drawing the blinds between office and squad room should have been the first order of the day. "Yesterday you informed me of your belief that one of my officers was a murderer."
"My belief?!" The rise in volume of the man's voice was sufficient for Karen to be certain she'd achieved her goal of rattling him.
"You've offered no substantiation of your allegations," she returned, voice cool, calculating the odds that her challenge might cause him to slip. "And without evidence, I have no reason to believe that a man named Kevin Drako died at all, much less died an unnatural death. I certainly have no reason to suspect that Detective Griffin killed him."
Five seconds, by her count, elapsed before the explosion at the other
end of the line. "That son of a bitch! I expected his old crony to cover
for him -- that is, back when I thought Blaisdell was still in charge of
this precinct. But you ... Are you really that naive, Captain Simms, that
you buy into whatever lies Griffin's fed you?" Without waiting for an answer,
he continued, "Were you aware he's been meeting with others in that murdering
bunch
he worked with years ago? Were you
aware he's been plotting to worm his way out of paying for his crime?
Do you have any idea what lengths he'll go to in order to convince the
world of his so-called innocence? Of the way he plans to sully the Drako
name?"
"Why are you so certain he *isn't* innocent? What makes you so sure that it's Griffin and not Drako who's the villain in this matter?" Karen held her breath as she waited to hear whether he would confirm the suspicions which had been growing since she first saw the photograph of the woman and three children.
An unpleasant laugh reached her ears. "Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners. Allow me to introduce myself, Captain. Alex Drako. In case you need that spelled out for you, I'm Kevin Drako's son." He chuckled, then added, "I'll be in touch again soon."
~~~~~
"Blake!"
<Oh shit.> Blake looked from his desktop to Kermit's empty office to an all-too-interested Peter Caine and back to Kermit's office before turning to the source of the call. "Yes, Captain?"
"If I may have a minute of your time, Detective." Her tone made it clear that was a command, not a request. "Regarding the Donaldson surveillance." Simms stood against her doorframe for a moment longer, then retreated into her office.
Blake took a deep breath, sent up a prayer that she wouldn't ask him about his most recent tete-a-tete with Kermit, and headed for Simms' office. Hesitating just inside the doorway, he debated whether their conversation would look less suspicious if the door remained open.
"Close the door, please," Simms directed. Once he complied, she turned an assessing gaze on him. "About Kermit's meeting this morning ..."
He held up a hand to forestall the question. "Captain, I'm going behind his back enough as it is. And I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think he needed more help than he's willing to admit and I didn't know you have his best interests at heart. I promised to do the surveillance this morning because I knew you were worried and I figured --" He shrugged. "I guess I figured there was no harm in keeping an eye on a friend. Kermit and I've watched each other's backs a lot over the years. I figured I could do that one more time. But I didn't promise to tell you what went on at his meeting."
Simms closed her eyes as though seeking patience. "Blake ..."
"I know you wanted answers, which is why I did a full scale surveillance job. Parabolic mic and all, just like I'd do on a case. I've almost got the report written up for you, if you can wait a few more minutes." <Kermit's gonna kill me when he finds out what I've done.> "Look, part of me feels as though I'm betraying the loyalty he expects of me. But I remember what Drako was like and, well, he needs all the help he can get." Blake winced, certain he'd managed to obliquely reveal the probability that a member of Drako's family was the caller who'd caused all this confusion. "I can't tell you anything, but I'm pretty sure I can justify sharing the surveillance report with you. I know it's splitting hairs, but that's the way I've got to do this."
"I know you're caught between a rock and a hard place, Blake. You made Kermit a promise, and I respect that. I'm glad he has friends like you." She paused, chewing on her lower lip as though lost in thought. "Anything you have for me will be greatly appreciated whenever you get it to me. That's not why I asked you to come in here. I have one question I need to ask you about this morning. And I need a straight answer."
"Captain, I'm not sure if I can --"
"You can answer it without betraying Kermit's trust."
"I'll be the judge of that." The hard tone in which he spoke alarmed Blake enough to study her face for any trace of anger.
Instead of reproach, he could read gratitude in Karen Simms' eyes. She offered him a small smile. "I wonder if Kermit knows how lucky he is to have friends so loyal. Blake, all I want to know is whether you saw anyone else anywhere near the meeting site."
Blake thought, then shook his head. "The only people I saw were the ones who belonged there, if you get my meaning." Curiosity getting the better of him, despite his best efforts to resist it, he queried, "Why do you ask?"
"My caller's name is Alex Drako. And from what he told me a few minutes ago, I think he was there this morning."
Blake cursed under his breath, disgusted with himself for letting that one slip under the radar. "I'll look into it, Captain." He debated the wisdom of saying more, then added, "Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to watch Kermit's back. And on that note ..."
She nodded. "Go. Do what you have to do."
~~~~~
"I've gathered the information you desired, Annie. Quite against my better judgment, I might add."
Annie shook her head at Steadman's remonstrative tone. His reluctance to assist her hadn't entirely surprised her, but his insistence on admonishing her that his help was given under duress did. "As I recall, Paul told me that he needed to remind you of duty when he convinced you to help Peter that first time. Apparently, I now find it necessary to remind you of something that meant a great deal to you once upon a time. A gentleman's honor. Isn't that what you used to call it?"
"Back in the dark ages before I introduced you to Paul, you mean?" Dry humor dripped from Steadman's words.
"Watch it, my single days aren't as far away as all that." Annie laughed, then added, "Three grown children notwithstanding. Speak for yourself, my friend, when you talk about the dark ages. And now that we've dispensed with that, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what you found out."
"Before I do, I must say that my information gathering served only to reinforce my belief that this is not a matter with which you should concern yourself. There are others asking questions, and none of them consider this a simple matter. Annie, merely knowing these facts could endanger your life." A short bark of humorless laughter was followed by the words, "Paul would have my head if he knew that the man who introduced him to his wife was responsible for that. He wouldn't want you involved."
"I wouldn't bet the ranch on that," Annie muttered.
"Pardon me?"
"Objection noted. Theory that you know my husband better than I do also noted -- and discarded." Softening her voice, she told him, "Look, I know you're just exercising that protective streak you've always had when it comes to me, but you should know me well enough to understand that I welcome that protection as little as I need it. I appreciate your concern, but it doesn't change anything. I still need that information."
A long-suffering sigh cut across the phone lines. "Two ground rules. One, you guard this information very carefully. What really happened eighteen years ago isn't common knowledge, even in the trade. And if it became public knowledge, that could spell disaster for many people."
"Including Paul?" Rather than wait for an answer to her rhetorical question, Annie rushed on, "Agreed. And your second ground rule?"
"Once this phone call is over, my debt to you is completely discharged. Also, we never had this conversation."
~~~~~
Karen pounced on her phone as soon as it rang, the hope that the caller had the answers she so desperately sought uppermost in her mind. "Captain Simms."
"Karen, it's Annie. Are you sitting down? I've got a great deal of information for you, little of it good."
"Just tell me one thing, to start. What have your contacts turned up on Kevin Drako's son Alex?"
"So he's the one." Annie's murmur sent a shiver down Karen's spine.
"He's the one what?"
"You need to know everything else I've found out first, in order to
fully grasp the import of this." Annie launched into the details
Steadman had provided, concluding, "Drako had few friends in the trade.
Hardly anyone considered him trustworthy. While Kermit took out his men
that night, apparently one of Drako's friends survived. I'm told that this
man, who'd worked closely with Drako in the past, is rumored to have spent
some time abroad over the past couple of years training a young man."
"Alex Drako."
"Yes. And I understand contact between the two was severed nearly a year ago, when this friend of Drako's returned to the States. There's another twist to this, Karen, one you're not going to like."
"As if I like any of this," Karen replied, weary resignation lacing her voice.
"I know. But this is one I doubt would have entered your mind. I know it didn't enter mine." Annie paused. "I believe you know the man who was Kevin Drako's friend before he became Alex Drako's mentor. You told me that he said something to you about having spent too much time in the Third World, where ..."
"... life is just garbage strewn by the side of the road," Karen finished,
the arrogant voice that had spoken those words in this
very office that evening echoing in her mind. "Quirk."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone in the small visiting room the city jail normally reserved for attorney/client meetings, Karen fought the urge to fidget. Instead, she gazed unseeing at the cinderblock wall directly across from her chair, allowing her mind to replay her last encounter with Quirk. His derisive voice echoed in her ears as though the words she heard had been spoken only yesterday, rather than nearly a year before.
"You don't work in the mercenary trade and *not* know Kermit." If the past day and a half had taught her anything, it was how right Quirk's statement had been. Last Christmas Eve, she'd written it off as hyperbole. Today, she knew better.
Another phrase resounded in her mind: "those with conscience". Karen allowed herself a grim smile as she recalled Quirk's application of that description to Kermit. That was the crux of her problem now, she admitted ruefully. Whatever Kermit had done almost twenty years before haunted him still, enough so that he couldn't see past his guilty conscience to accept that she was more than willing to shoulder her share of the weight he carried.
A metal door clanged in the distance, the discordant sound reverberating down the corridor. Karen shifted her gaze to the visiting room door, moments before a guard escorted the prisoner into the room. Despite his bleak surroundings and ill-fitting prison uniform, Quirk retained every ounce of the arrogance she remembered from Christmas Eve. That much was evident from the way he moved, disdainful of the guard's hand on his arm, even before he spoke. "Should I be flattered by the rather dubious pleasure of this visit?"
Karen watched as Quirk took the seat across the wooden table from her. The guard moved to stand with his back against the door. Simms' gaze flickered to the side and lingered on the expanse of Plexiglas that allowed the guards outside the room to monitor what occurred inside. She squinted to read the name on the guard's uniform. "Leave us, Officer Bradley."
Bradley looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't do that without the proper authority. And begging your pardon, but a police captain can't authorize an unsupervised visit."
"I obtained clearance for the same conditions of privacy routinely allowed attorneys conferring with the inmates, Officer. And that is monitoring of this visit through the glass. If you have any further objections, I suggest you take them up with your superiors." Indecision flashed across the young man's face. Simms softened her tone, assuring him, "I'm fully capable of handling the prisoner if he gets out of line."
"I'll be right outside if you need me, Captain." Bradley slipped out the door, locking it behind him.
"I'd repeat the question you ignored, Captain, if I wasn't so curious about your mission here."
One eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Am I to suppose your student failed to update his teacher on the status of his efforts?"
Quirk chuckled. "I'd have expected Kermit to come here himself. Always knew him to fight his own battles, never expected him to allow his commander to wage the war for him." He paused, cold eyes boring into Karen's. "Or maybe he's hiding behind his lover's skirts -- now that he's gone soft."
Refusing to take the bait, Karen willed herself not to react. "On Christmas Eve you told me how pleased you were by Kermit's absence from the precinct. You even admitted that you wouldn't want to try to face him down. I'd say that made you the coward."
"Touché. I'd forgotten how unaccustomed I am to encountering a woman who's a worthy adversary. Had a lot distracting me these past few years, as I'd wager you know."
Karen fought the urge to roll her eyes as she leveled an incredulous gaze at him. "Training Alex Drako or posing as an FBI agent in order to occupy police precincts?"
Quirk faltered momentarily, his expression revealing that he hadn't expected her to get to the point this quickly. "Why don't you tell me, Captain Simms? You seem to have all the answers."
"Perhaps." She inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps I haven't been asking the right questions."
"Meaning?"
"I've been asking who'd have reason to seek revenge for Kevin Drako's death and getting the answer Alex Drako. Perhaps I *should* have been asking what hidden agenda Alex Drako sought to further when he convinced you to help him avenge his father." Karen feigned thoughtfulness by hesitating, banking on the probability that Quirk would take her words as the hallenge they were.
Scornful laughter filled the room, and Karen knew that she'd hit a nerve. "On second thought, maybe you're not as worthy an adversary as I gave you credit for being."
"Imagine my joy that I provide such a source of amusement for you," Karen returned, her sarcasm intended to lead him to expound on his remark.
Seconds later, he did. "Do you honestly think that Alex Drako is capable of manipulating *me*, Captain? You're still asking the wrong questions." Quirk shifted in his seat, leaning back as a smirk crossed his face. "You should be asking how I intend to finish what Kevin started."
~~~~~
Dropping into the seat across from Blake at the small diner near the 101st, Kermit surveyed the room to ensure that no one would overhear the former mercenaries' conversation. "Listen, Blake, all I need to know is which of the Drako sons were missing for any extended period of time during the last few years. Did you get a chance to find anything out about that?" He leaned across the table, favoring Blake with a hard stare from behind the green lenses.
Blake looked down at his hands and the file resting underneath them. "I did some checking just as you asked, Kermit. I've got to admit that it feels a little strange to go behind everyone's backs to do this, though. Don't you think that maybe some of them can help here?" he asked hopefully. Blake knew that Kermit didn't want anyone at the 101st to know what was going on, but he kept hoping his friend would change his mind, so that he'd no longer be caught in the middle. Here he was trying to dig up information for Kermit and also trying to dig up information for the Captain without letting either one of them know the full extent of what he was doing for the other. He stifled a groan. Maybe he should have taken that vacation time that was owed to him.
"You know the answer to that. If you're not going to help, tell me. Just remember what I've done for you, and that you owe me. Next time the situation might not be so simple."
A few years before, that might have been an empty threat. The more years that passed since their mercenary days, the more difficult working the system became, though. Life wasn't getting any easier with people they'd worked with dying off and information being hidden by those who owed them few favors. They both knew that, Blake thought as he sighed and handed the file over to Kermit.
Griffin opened the folder as soon as it was in his hand. "This it?"
"That's everything I could find. It appears that an Alex Drako, the
youngest son, took a little trip to parts unknown. There were
reports that no one in his family had heard from him for over two years.
When he came back and took the job with the CDC he told some people that
he had been going to school on a fellowship and others that he had been
trying to get his life in order. No one knew for sure where he'd been or
what he'd been doing."
"So Alex found out that his father didn't die of natural causes," Kermit
stated, his voice devoid of inflection. "Then he sought out the one person
who might have information on what really happened. At least as far as
he knew. Enter our friend Quirk. And since Quirk and Drako were such good
buddies, my guess would be that either Quirk was hiding in the shadows
when Drako died or he got there not too long after the fact and put two
and two together." He snorted. "Either that or he just told Drako's son
that I was the one who took him out, and he didn't find out until more
recently that it was actually true. God,
what a mess." He closed the file, then stood. "Thanks, Blake. You've
been a lot of help."
Before Blake could reply, Kermit had walked out the door, leaving behind
a very confused and worried colleague. "Just be
careful, my friend," Blake whispered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I imagine I already have an idea as to what you've been planning for the past eighteen years." Karen turned an assessing gaze on Quirk. "Your friend Drako was dead and the virus was back in government hands, likely under far tighter security than it was initially. Yet you still believed that you could find some way to fulfill the deals you and Drako had made with certain nefarious bidders. Am I correct so far?"
Slouching further back into his chair, Quirk chuckled. "Excellent piece of deduction, Captain Simms. Go on, please. I can't wait to see how close to the mark you manage to come." He paused, then added, "Wonder if Kermit's put it together yet or if he's too busy chasing ghosts?"
Pointedly ignoring his last question, Karen continued, "But there wasn't
a person in or out of the trade willing to risk letting
Drako's friend anywhere near any potential component of biological
warfare. So you bided your time until the big score, occupying yourself
with the odd job like the ones that sparked such disdain for the Third
World and its people." Quirk's responding sneer told her she'd hit a sore
spot. She pressed on, "You kept in contact with Kevin Drako's family.
Close contact, unless I miss my guess. His wife considered you a trusted
friend; his sons looked to you as a father figure."
When she fell silent, Quirk shook his head. "Come now, don't stop there. This story fascinates me. I sound quite the mastermind."
"When the appropriate time came, you made it known to Drako's sons that you knew the true circumstances of his death and that those conditions contradicted the official version of his demise. Then you sat back and waited to see which of them would come to you and ask for the complete story. It turned out to be Alex. So you took him under your wing, trained him to become lethal, and let him loose on the world. You figured that once he killed Kermit, it would be easy to convince him to help you steal another virus or a deadly bacteria, *some* germ that could be weaponized."
"Very good, Captain. Perhaps you *are* a worthy enough adversary, after all. You missed a few pieces of the puzzle, though. You see, Kevin and I both knew someone had been dispatched to reclaim the virus at any cost, including violation of the presidential order against assassination. My contacts also told us that whoever the assassin was would operate under color of a classified directive detaching him as an operative in a foreign intelligence service with no such constraints on its actions. Alex doesn't know that, however." Quirk leaned forward, directing a piercing look at Karen. "One grand master plan, isn't it?"
Karen rose, turned to the Plexiglas window, and gestured for the guard before answering. "Before you start to congratulate yourself, consider two things. First, Kermit Griffin isn't dead yet."
"And he won't be if you have anything to say about it? Brava, Captain. Spoken like a true leader determined to protect her troops. I almost regret his death will happen on your watch."
"Second, apparently the student has surpassed the master. Alex Drako's still out there, preparing to carry out his part of your plan. You bungled James Raitt's escape. Looks like it's Alex's turn to call the shots now, doesn't it?"
~~