Murder In New York
Chapter 14
August 11
Havenhurst Hospital
0700 Hours"Thanks, guys," Mac said as Green helped her out of the back of the police car.
Green offered his hand to Webb, but stepped back when he was waved away.
"Clay?" she whispered.
Webb stood in the early morning light staring up at the edifice he remembered in several contexts. He had been here just last year with a prisoner they needed to break. He shuddered at the methods they had used; methods very similar to what had been done to him. "Do we have to go back inside, Sarah?"
"It’s where our clothes are. I don’t know where else to take you, Clay. Besides this is where your mother is coming to see you."
He looked down at himself and sighed. "God, she can’t see me like this."
"I know, darling. Come on." She let Green precede them into the hospital. Greenwald, who had been advised that they had found his patient, was waiting anxiously for them, pacing back and forth in the foyer.
When he saw them, he started forward, but something made him stop and wait. There was a look in Webb’s eye that encouraged and frightened him a bit. So he waited.
"Stan." Webb ground out, but didn’t stop until Mac gripped his arm. He took a deep breath and waited.
"You remember?"
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Yeah, Stan. I guess I don’t have a lot to complain about, now do I?"
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I want to go up to my room and shower." Webb ground out.
"Clay?" Mac had sensed the change almost immediately. Where before there had been fatigue and sadness, now a rage seemed to take her lover. "Sweetheart? What’s wrong?"
"Nothing!" Webb bit his lip and then put his arm around her waist. "Nothing," he said in a calmer voice though she could still hear the tension there. He didn’t say a word as Greenwald got on the elevator with them and rode up to the fourth floor. When they got to his room, Webb demanded, "I’ll get my clothes, I don’t want to stay here. We can go find someplace."
"Clayton! Stop it this instant." Mac pulled away from him and then took his shoulders in her hands. "Look at me. Tell me what has you upset now. Don’t hold anything back."
"Tell her." Webb’s voice was low and dangerous. "Tell her about the room downstairs. Tell her what WE do to people we take down there."
Mac gasped but then understood. She had a vague understanding about what Palmer had done to Clay and suspected that the US had similar facilities in several places throughout the country. "Don’t bother, doctor. I think I know."
"You know? You don’t seemed shocked, Sarah." Webb tried to step away from her but she held tight.
"I know that there are times when we have to get information or even turn an agent. I know that there have been times in the past when that form of torture has been abused. But I also know this." She stopped and reached out one hand to the very subdued doctor, "This man has worked hard to help bring you back to me. Are you telling me that this man would do to someone ALL the things that Palmer did to you, for the reasons Palmer did them to you? Are you saying that Stan Greenwald is conditioning assassins?"
Greenwald stood silently waiting for Webb’s judgment. He saw the shudder run through the younger man’s body, saw him fight the tears that were threatening. "I don’t know." Webb’s whisper almost made Greenwald cry, but that would do his friend no good.
"You don’t know? You think that I could do something like that?" Greenwald carefully let his anger show, but none of the hurt. "That room has been use three times since I’ve been here! Do you remember how long I’ve been here?"
"Ten years!" Webb stepped away from Mac and this time she let him. He faced the man whom he had known almost from the beginning of his career. In his head he knew that Greenwald did what needed to be done. He knew that Greenwald had hated it the last time. Hated but did what needed to be done.
"You were only here for two of those sessions. The first one was and is no concern of yours but I can assure you that no assassination came out of it. As for the other two? You do remember the other two?"
Webb was tired, exhausted really but he forced himself to remember. The first time they had sent him here was with an operative who had been captured and forced to do horrible things in South America. Because of the therapy that included sessions in the floatation pool downstairs that man had retired and was now in South Carolina living a life relatively free of guilt. The second time, it had taken almost four weeks of intensive torture, but in the end they had foiled an attempt to blow up a nuclear reactor two miles from Paris. He took a deep breath. "Yes, I remember. It’s just…"
"Doctor, could you leave us alone. He needs to shower." Mac looked pointedly at the mirror on the far wall.
Greenwald nodded. "Why don’t you take his stuff down to your room, Colonel. That way you’ll know that there are no prying eyes." He sniffed and stood straighter. "I don’t expect my word to mean anything right now."
Mac stepped up to the man that she had to credit with helping to save Webb’s sanity. "Doctor, if I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t believe that my room was free of bugs. But I think it will be better for him if we do what you suggest." Quickly she gathered up clothes for Clay to change into, wrapping them in a sheet to protect them from the muck that still clung to them both. Then she went into the bath and found his toothbrush, the electric razor they had allowed him, and his deodorant.
As she was leading Clay out of the room Greenwald said softly, "When he’s rested, bring him to my office, Colonel. You know this isn’t over."
Before she could answer, Webb turned back and said clearly. "I know this isn’t over, Stan." He took a deep breath. "We’ll see. We still have to find Karpov."
She led him down the hall. Her room wasn’t nearly as nice as his, though her bed was a standard full-size bed without hospital rails. The bathroom was as utilitarian as any hospital bath, containing a toilet next to the stark porcelain sink attached to the wall and a shower stall with a heavy plastic curtain. She bit her lip, staring at it. "I wish we could…"
"What do you wish?" he whispered so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.
She finally let the tears fall. "I just wish we could go somewhere and hide away from everyone. We hardly get to see each other. I was so scared. I knew you were in danger and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t know who to call."
He didn’t know what to say to her, anymore than he had known what to say to Greenwald. His emotions were in turmoil, now unchecked by the control he had barely been able to maintain sporadically throughout his torture and escape. He had to deal with so much, including his anger and the sense of betrayal that he couldn’t help but feel towards her and the rest of his friends; the friends who hadn’t come after him.
"I feel so guilty. I talked to your mother early on. She had been told by a man at your office that you were on assignment. Only we found out from Anspach that the same man who told her that had told him that you had sent an email saying you had to consider your options and were taking some accumulated leave." He turned her around and just stared at her. She saw the accusation in his eyes and that almost undid her. "Oh God, you can’t think…you think that I would have left you without looking for you if I thought…" She sank to the rug and started crying even harder.
"Sarah. Oh, honey, don’t. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to think. Before Carlson left we were working on a couple of leaks and a couple of leads that pointed to some connections between someone in the CIA and the Russian Mob here and in Moscow. When Carlson got promoted to that spot in State, I was ready to bring Anspach up to speed completely. Would have, but his assistant made me nervous. Carlson took his man with him and the guy that Anspach picked…"
"You think Anspach is dirty?" She gasped out, trying to regain control.
"No. I think Anspach took someone’s suggestion. He hadn’t seemed that concerned with Brolin. I don’t think he realized the power that his personal assistant had. We’ve got to warn him."
"We don’t have to." Mac sighed. Pushing up off the floor, she tried to rub the tears off her face only to find herself grinding dirt into her skin. "Brolin was killed in an automobile accident."
"Terrific." Webb groaned. "Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll brush my teeth and shave then take my turn."
"Oh." She fought to keep the disappointment from her voice. "Okay."
"Go on. Get settled and I’ll come in."
"Fine," she whispered as he carefully closed the bathroom door, leaving her alone.
He stripped out of his filthy clothes in the bedroom and tossed them in a corner. Then as if suddenly waking up he began a careful examine every inch of the room looking behind a mirror, even though it hung against the wall between the room and hallway. He checked every corner and finally, he was satisfied that there were no hidden cameras in this room. He felt guilty at not trusting Greenwald, but not much. Finally, he entered the bathroom. The hot steam created a cloud, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to shave. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist, brushed his teeth and then started to open the door to the bedroom again.
"Clay?" He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.
"Yes?"
"The shower is pretty big. I could really use your help washing my back." Her whisper was barely audible above the pounding of the water against her skin. "Please?"
He closed his eyes in pain. How could he tell her of his shame? Even though the rational part of him knew he fought off Palmer as soon as he was able, he still felt guilty about his response. He knew the drugs had weakened his defenses, he knew he had thought of no one but Sarah touching him.
"Clay?" There was a tremor in her voice he couldn’t ignore. Sighing deeply, he pulled the towel off and turned to face her. He gasped. She was standing there not caring one wit that the water was cascading off her breasts onto the tile floor. The mud and muck were gone, replaced by her golden olive skin that had always fascinated him.
"Step back. I don’t want to get you dirty."
"Okay." She made room for him, stepping back to the very corner of the stall as if afraid that her touch would drive him from the room. Stepping under the hot water he didn’t even try to swallow the groan of pure pleasure as hot water pounded the dirt from him. Muddy rivulets tracked more dirt from his body. He hissed when he felt the cold, shampoo hit his scalp.
"Sssh," she whispered as she began to massage the herbal gel into his hair. She didn’t work up much of a lather the first time. But she gently nudged his head under the water. "Close your eyes." He did, and even when she pulled him back to reapply more shampoo he kept them shut and let her soothing fingers wash away more than subway dirt and grime. As her hands worked lower, working the shampoo into his skin, replacing the stench of decay and death with lavender and other scents he had come to associate with her, he began to finally, truly relax.
"Nice," he sighed as she worked lower still.
"Turn around, Clay."
He stiffened then, but let her turn him to face her. He forced his eyes open; it was the polite thing to do. He gasped at the stark look of longing and love in her eyes. He groaned as tears tracked down both their cheeks. But she resolutely continued to clean him, rubbing away the dirt from his chest, moving lower to his stomach. He felt his cock begin to respond, but when she sank to her knees, unwanted images flashed before him and he shriveled in shame. If she noticed she gave him no indication. Instead she worked the muscles in his legs, carefully cleaning between his toes, tickling behind his knees. "Christ, Sarah!" he gasped and fell against the tile. The cold against his back shocked him out of his musings, the rough safety surface of the floor kept him from slipping. He shut his eyes again but this time he heard her hoarse demand.
"Look at me, Clay. Damn you, look at me."
He looked down and shuddered.
"Who do you see? Who do you want to be down here?"
"Oh God, Sarah. Only you. It’s always been you. Forever, since that first day." He saw her bite her lip and wait. He knew what she wanted and, swallowing, managed a soft, "Please, Sarah." Her smile alone made him begin to harden. As her tongue snaked out and glazed along the tip of his cock, all thoughts of the past six weeks fled for a moment, and he was lost in her spell.
Her warm hands caressed his balls. One finger traced every throbbing vein along his shaft. He braced his shoulders against the wall and brought his hands to her hair. She had washed her hair in the same shampoo and he ran his fingers through the softness there. "Wait," he groaned.
He wanted to reciprocate and he tried to lift her but she grinned up at him. "Later." And before he could protest, she engulfed his shaft until it hit the back of her throat.
"Sarah!" he cried out. He couldn’t keep from thrusting. It had been too long, too hard, too damn pain-filled. "Please. Sarah, not like this. Please." He groaned. She pulled back and just knelt there and waited. Slowly, he moved down the wall until his ass hit the roughened tile. "Come here." He held out his arms and she entered his embrace, straddling his hips, her core poised over his shaft. As he wrapped his arms around her she took his face in her hands and their eyes met.
She longed to kiss him, but she wanted to keep eye contact with him even more. Slowly, she lowered herself down until his cock hit that spot that made her groan in pleasure. "Oh, yes. Just like that. So good. You’re the only man, Clay. The only one left for me. I do so love you."
He swallowed and nodded. "You’re the only reason why I made it, Sarah. Even when I didn’t remember you, I dreamed about you." He thrust up into her hot channel, reveling in the way her womb fit his cock like a pulsing glove. Her mound against his pelvis, her breasts pressed against his chest. Even the water became a caressing supplicant to their pleasure. "I have never loved another woman the way I love you, Sarah MacKenzie. No matter what happens in the coming days and months, please remember that."
"Always." She brought her lips to his, the intense look in the hazel eyes almost too much to bear. He caressed her back from neck to ass, pausing to squeeze her hot flesh. Then he grabbed both of her ass cheeks and ground her tighter against him. She arched back driving deeper still, offering her nipples to his mouth. He nibbled and bit, then kissed and soothed until she became wild in her thrashing and pumping. He leaned back and watched his oh-so-professional Marine Colonel become a wanton wildcat as she rode his shaft. "Clay! So close. Pleasepleaseplease!" She sang and he released one hip to bring his hand between them. Rubbing her clit until she cried out her climax, he watched until she collapsed back into his embrace. His own release was triggered when her lips found that one spot between his neck and collarbone, and she bit down on it, slowly increasing the pressure until pleasure turned to pain and then became a mind blowing explosion that had him thrusting up one last time.
They sat there holding each other, knowing that reality was soon to intrude upon their precious time together. Resignedly, she stood up and reached out her hand. He used it to leverage up but instead of leaving the shower he pulled her to him for one long sweet kiss. "Marry me," he whispered.
The shock on her face, the doubt, was gradually replaced with sheer joy. «Why not? I couldn’t love him more. There will never be a good time for us.» "Yes," she whispered. They kissed again and finally she reached behind him and turned off the water. "Come on. You know we can’t hide in here all day." If his look was childishly petulant, she also saw the adult in him accept the responsibility of her words.
"Oh, okay." He shuddered as the weight of his position and the fact that he had knowledge that was desperately needed, hurried the last of the playfulness back to the room where he kept and cherished such feelings. "But I meant it."
"So did I." Sarah stepped out into the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush. Rummaging through the necessary bag for her toothpaste her hand grazed over the small plastic holder containing her birth control pills; the pills she had forgotten for nearly a week. She didn’t mind one bit. She found herself praying that a child might very well have been created in the aftermath of this horrid nadir in their lives.
"Hey, shake a leg Marine. We’ve got doctors to appease and a rat to hunt down."
: :
August 11
Holiday Inn – Midtown
0900 HoursVictor Galindez had picked up the clothes from the apartment that Rabb and the Admiral were sharing. He had just entered the lobby, planning on going upstairs, taking a shower and deciding what the hell he was going to do for clothes. Rabb and the Admiral were both at least a head taller than he, most of it in the legs. He would have to find something to wear but he had no idea where to look in this part of town.
Her voice stopped him. "Victor!"
He turned and his heart began to pump a little harder. "Francesca. Mrs. Paretti."
Marcella looked from her daughter to the very dirty Marine standing before her. «Oh no. I know this look.» She sighed and then demanded. "Why are you so dirty, Sergeant?"
He didn’t know how much to tell them, but knew he had to tell them something. "We finally found the people we were looking for. It was rather messy."
"I should say so," Marcella huffed. "Come Francesca. We need to pack."
"In a moment, Mamma. I will meet you in your room." Francesca gave her mother a look very reminiscent of her father’s best glower. It had never worked for AJ but Marcella glared at the Marine sergeant and sighed as she went meekly to the elevator. Francesca let her surprise show for just a moment. But then she returned her attention to Galindez. "So, you found the people for whom you were looking, and now you can sleep?"
He blushed, "No. Just shower and try and clean this up enough so I can go back out."
"But you need the sleep!" She took in his rumpled, uniform. The knees were nearly black with the grime from the tunnel. However, she finally caught a whiff of him. "Mio Dio! But you need a shower much more. You have no clothes into which you can change ?"
He shook his head, the blush creeping up on his face. "Ah, I figured I would get dressed and see if I can find something on my way back to the Admiral and the rest." He blushed even more as she walked around him slowly.
Finally, when she returned to face him she pointed her finger to the elevator. "Go and shower, but throw away what you are wearing."
"But…" he protested to her back as she hurried out of the hotel. "Damn it!" he muttered as he made his way upstairs.
He went upstairs to the room he hadn’t used yet. «Hell, Agent Ryan could have saved the money on this one.» He gazed longingly at the bed but forced himself to go into the shower. He let the water just pour over him for a while, resisting the urge to sit in the tub. He did allow himself to lean against the wall of the shower. «It feels so good to just close my eyes.» The door next to his room slamming shut woke him with a start. "Damn." He quickly showered off and, wrapping a towel around his waist, went out into the bathroom. He cursed again as he realized that he had no razor, toothbrush or anything else. "Damn, damn, damn!"
He practically stumbled to the phone. "Suck it up Marine! It’s only been…" he calculated the last time he slept and groaned out loud. "Well, that will teach you to help a damsel in distress." The vision of her invaded his senses and he brutally pushed it back. Picking up the phone he called the front desk and explained his needs. He was assured that everything he needed would be sent up. He bit back the urge to ask them to bring clean underwear and a new uniform while they were at it. «Well, there was nothing for it.»
He leaned back on the bed and before he knew it he was being awakened once again, this time by a knock at his door. He didn’t even think about it, knowing it was the bellhop with his toothbrush. It was, only he had the most unusual look on his face. Victor realized why as the bellhop was gently pushed out of the way and a small hand reached out and plucked the courtesy bag from him. "Grazie. You should probably tip the nice man, Victor." Francesca said as she sailed past both men, completely ignoring the fact that the only thing Galindez had on was a towel and a rosy blush tracking up his chest. The bellman didn’t say a word, but the grin on his face made Victor want to smack it off. Instead he went to the wallet he had thrown on the dresser and pulled out a couple of dollars.
"Thanks, mister." The bellhop craned his neck trying to see where Francesca was. Victor slammed the door in his face.
He peeked into the room. Francesca’s back was to him and he could see she was busily pulling things from a bag. "Here." She reached back with the courtesy bag. "I will bring the other things to the door of il bagno, scusa, the bathroom."
"Uhm…Francesca? What’s all this?"
"Hush. Go. It is my fault that you are here with nothing but rags to wear. Go now."
He had little choice but to obey her, so he went to the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. However, he left the door open and as he shaved he said, "You know that isn’t true. I am glad to be here. I was a real help to your father and Rabb."
He almost jumped at the sound of her voice so close. "So, can you tell me what you did?"
He quickly looked at the door but she wasn’t looking in and he relaxed just a bit. "You remember last year when I met you at JAG and I was on medical leave?"
"Si. Papá said you were attacked while you were in jail for something you did not do."
"That’s right. I think that’s when your father met Agent Ryan." He held his breath waiting for the cursing to begin.
He heard a deep sigh. "Si. Papá and Cassie really love each other, but her momma is a very bad woman." Her snort was very unladylike. "An English Countess no less, with the manners of a, how do you say…"
She fumbled for the words, and Galindez, remembering a phrase he had heard out in San Francisco once, supplied, "A fishmonger’s wife."
"Si. Esattamente! So it was to help Cassie Ryan that made you so dirty?"
"No." He laughed and considered his reflection. He brushed his teeth trying to figure out a way to explain that he would have come to New York to help find Clayton Webb even if Francesca Paretti hadn’t been the instrument by which he found out. "Uhm…you brought me clothes I take it?"
"Si. Here." A hand holding a small pile of white appeared.
He gulped as he unfolded the boxer-briefs and tee shirt. "Uhm…how did you know my size?"
Her giggle sent a shock through him. "I am very good at such things, Victor. Did you not know I am a fashion editor?"
"Yeah. I heard that. I just didn’t realize that one of the talents was figuring out what size men wore."
She blushed and didn’t tell him she had paid special attention to his movements and she thought that he was a good size larger than her previous unlamented boyfriend. She would allow him to think that she had special powers instead of just being incredibly lucky. She just hoped that he liked the other clothes she found for him. "So. Continue." She said as she went back to the bed for the slacks, and shirt. She really hoped she was close on the shoes. That would be the hardest part. «Oh, well, perhaps he will have time to return them.»
"So one of the people who helped find the real killer was a man named Clayton Webb."
"Oh, si! I know Clayton." The way she said it sent a knife of jealously through his heart - until she continued. "Papá helped him save an old friend in Italy. Afterwards I met them all for dinner. Clayton is a nice man, though very stuffy. I understand that he and Sarah MacKenzie are molto nell'amore."
"If that means they’re really in love then, yeah you’re right." He blushed as relief flooded through him. «Stop it, you idiot. Can you imagine what the Admiral would say? Why would he say anything? It’s not like you’re under his supervision anymore. No you’re just a Leatherneck with little prospects but a lousy pension – if you don’t die in the desert.» He shook his head to clear it of the impossibilities racing through it. "Anyway, he helped find the guy, got shot while he was doing it too. Then we met in Afghanistan about six months ago. Rode out a bombing raid together, traded a few punches."
"Why?" She was standing in the doorway holding out a pair of slacks her eyes raking over his body now clad in tee shirt, underwear and socks.
He gulped. "Why what?"
"Why did you hit each other?"
"Long story, no longer important. What is important is that he probably saved my life then too by keeping me from doing something stupid." He reached for the pants and keeping his eyes locked on her, put them on and zipped them. "So you see, had I known, I would have come here anyway." At her cocked eyebrow he grinned, "But then I wouldn’t have been able to help you." He took the shirt from her hands and pulled it over his head. "Jesus." He breathed as he caught his reflection. He ran his hands over the soft material. "Oh man, Francesca, you shouldn’t have. This had to have cost too much."
She waved her hand, "Non importa, Victor. I have, as you say, a discount because of my job." He suspected she was lying and wondered how much the clothes she bought cost. "Come, let us see if I had good luck with the shoes."
"Oh, jeez, I can’t take these."
"Victor." Her voice was a growl and she pushed him back to sit on the bed.
"Hey!" He tried to stop her, but she knelt before him and, taking the shoe, put it on his foot. She grinned up at him.
"It fits, no?"
He sighed and flopped back on the bed in exasperation. She pushed the other shoe on his foot. He gasped when he felt the bed moved and started to sit up only to find her in his arms. "This is not a very good idea?"
"Why? You do not like me?"
"Oh, Francesca. That isn’t the problem." Anything else he was going to say was cut off by her lips on his. Finally, gasping he pushed her gently away from him. "I like you very much." He pushed hair off her face. "And I would really like to do this some more." He blushed and whispered, "When I get back, may I take you to dinner?"
"Si." Her smile was sweet and a little sad. "Now I must go to Mama. She is a very determined woman. Be safe today, Victor. I expect dinner."
Chapter 15
August 11
Havenhurst Hospital
1200 HoursWebb, dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, stood staring out Mac’s window. He had a lovely view of the street below and the building directly across from them. He hadn’t said much since they dressed, and Mac took the call from Anspach saying that he and Porter Webb would arrive in New York at four. "I have to meet with Homeland Security and President Bush. How’s he coming along?"
Mac had been non-committal beyond, "He’s remembered everything, sir." She listened carefully, glanced at her lover and then said, "If you insist, Mr. Anspach."
"What?" Webb asked with little interest in his voice.
"He thinks it best if Dr. Greenwald comes with us."
"Why? Does he think I’m going to go berserk? If I do, does he think Greenwald can stop me? Oh wait, he’ll bring a tranq pistol, I’m sure."
"Clay, please." She walked up to him and hugged him tight, resting her head on his back. "It isn’t going to be easy, but remember, I love you and there are a lot of people out there pulling for you."
"A lot of people wanting me out, too, sweetheart."
"But not Anspach," She whispered and just held tighter when his back spasmed in bitter anger. She didn’t step away until her cell phone rang. "Yes, Admiral. No, I understand. We’ll wait for him here. I’ll let him explain in the car. Yes, sir. In a little bit."
Galindez picked them up exactly at Noon. "Whoa. Much nicer than Afghanistan, Galindez." Webb took Victor’s outstretched hand when he got out of the car. "Damn, where did you pick that up at? It must have set you back…."
"Uhm…a friend picked it out for me, sir. Ma’am." Mac had only heard Rabb’s side of the story of what brought Galindez to New York, but she figured out who must have bought his clothes for him.
Reaching up she hugged the blushing Marine and whispered, "You really do look nice. Francesca has wonderful taste."
She and Webb slid into the back seat. Webb grew very quiet when Greenwald slid into the front seat next to Galindez. She scooted next to him and put her head on his shoulder. "I’m right here." All he did was kiss the top of her head.
"Hey, Webb." Galindez met his eye in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, Galindez."
"You think you can figure out what this stuff cost – you know, a close guess?"
"Probably, why? You gonna insult the lady by giving her a check?"
"Oh. No. Well maybe something."
"Sure Galindez. We’ll talk later." Webb caressed Mac’s arm, grateful to have something mundane to think about for the moment.
: :
15th Precinct
1300 HoursMcCoy and Southerlyn had been called back downtown to report to the DA, Arthur Branch. SAC Kelly called to say that he was heading back to the office and would keep them abreast of anything they found out from there and to let him know what the task force would need.
When Cassie and AJ had arrived at the 15th, they found it in an uproar, of course. There were cops shouting at each other, trying to make some sense of what they heard.
"No way would Alavera be part of anything like that."
"Yeah, maybe, but I wouldn’t put it past that bastard, Cren…"
"Hey watch your mouth. Can we help you people?" One of the cops demanded of the tall bald man and the very short red head. Even though Cassie was wearing an FBI windbreaker over her shirt and slacks, he addressed his question to AJ.
"Son, she’s in charge. I’m just along for the ride."
"Special Agent Ryan, FBI. We’ll wait in Captain Alavera’s office until the rest arrive. I understand we already have an agent here."
"Now wait a minute." The startled cop looked from the agent to Chegwidden who just shook his head at the man. Fortunately, Anita Van Buren walked in moments later, a stunned look on her face. "I’m Lieutenant Van Buren, who’s in charge?"
A man wearing sergeant’s stripes stepped forward. "I guess that would me, ma’am what’s going on?"
"Check with the chief’s office. Until further notice I’m in charge of the precinct." No one looked more surprised than Van Buren, who had taken the call from her Captain outside the Korean restaurant.
She found out the chief himself had called the Captain, who had called her and said, "Get over to the 15th and keep the lid on it. This could be your chance." She wanted her captain’s shield, but she didn’t think she wanted it this way. Briscoe and Green were hastily assigned to the ad hoc task force that would set up shop in the office of Captain Julio Alavera, who wasn’t expected to make it out of surgery. Of the three uniformed policemen who had followed their captain and lieutenant into the subway access tunnel, one was in fair condition, one was stable, and one was still on the operating table. Van Buren looked around her and wondered if she would get any work out of the rest of the precinct.
"Lieutenant, what happened out there?" someone called out.
They had a right to know, so when Rabb, Briscoe and Green walked in, she motioned them to go upstairs. "I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll fill in the guys down here and join you. Someone go with them and show them how to use the coffee maker."
"I’m on it, L.T., but don’t start without me, okay!" One of the cops hurried upstairs and announced to the few detectives still trying to work, "Hey, get on downstairs, there’s a Lieutenant from downtown who’s gonna take over. She’s going to tell us what’s going on." It was then that they noticed Mary Perkins sitting at one of the empty desks talking on the phone. The officer who had brought them upstairs pointed to the coffee maker, the supplies and then pointed to an office down the hall. "There’s the captain’s office. Hey, is he going to be okay?"
Cassie answered, never taking her eyes off Perkins, "I’m sure Lieutenant Van Buren will fill you in and, more importantly, appreciate the cooperation that you can give her."
Rabb hurried to Mary’s side and sat down in the chair next to her desk. She reached out and took his hand but continued to talk in a language that Rabb recognized as Russian. Briscoe looked at Green and said, "Lets do something useful," and the two went to study the coffee maker. "Just like ours."
"Yeah, well let me make it. I would actually like a cup." Green groused.
"Oh, you don’t like my coffee?"
"Hell no. Where did you learn to make it? Damn stuff will make the hair on your chest grow."
"Sounds just the way I like it." AJ walked over to the two men. "How much coffee are you putting in there?"
Cassie just shook her head. She had become immune to most of the coffee she drank, though she had to admit AJ’s could keep her awake for days. "Yeah, better let the SEAL make it, we need to be awake."
Briscoe grinned and Green groaned but stepped back, handing the coffee canister to AJ who peered into the half-filled canned and sighed. "Is there enough?" Green just groaned.
Cassie waited until Perkins hung up the phone. "Should you be here?" She took in the pale drawn face.
"Please, don’t start." Mary sighed. "Kelly has already been all over me."
"With reason, you look like shit!" Cassie insisted.
"I’m fine," Mary ground out. "And I found some stuff that we’ll have to check."
Cassie exchanged glances with Rabb then turned and walked down the hall. "As soon as the rest of them get here, show them in, detectives."
"You got it." Briscoe called out, grinning as Green tried to convince Chegwidden to let him make the coffee.
"Man just go in there, I’ll take care of this." AJ glared at the detective then shoved the canister into the man’s hands and spun on his heel.
"You are brave, Ed." Rabb laughed.
"No, I just want to eventually get to sleep this week." Green muttered as he made the coffee. So engrossed with filling the water at the sink nearby he didn’t hear the footsteps climbing the stairs.
He turned quickly enough though when he heard Rabb call out. "Hey partner. Gunny. Webb. Doctor Greenwald? What are you doing here?" Green turned and watched the man he had thought of as a cop killer walk into the room. He really didn’t look anything like Green remembered of the frightened psychotic man he had questioned right after the murder. In fact the look on the «Sheeeet!» Assistant Director for Operations of Southwest Asia looked decidedly dangerous until a broad, but tired, smile lit his face.
"Harm." The two men shook hands. "Thanks. Sarah told me everything you did."
"Hey, man." Rabb held up his hand and rocked it back and forth. "It’s all a seesaw." Green didn’t catch that reference but Webb did because he just shook his head in a bemused manner. "Clayton Webb, this is Mary Perkins, FBI."
Webb’s brow furrowed, then gasped, "I know you."
Rabb looked confused, Mac tensed and Doctor Greenwald took a step toward Webb.
"I sent you that report about ten weeks ago," Mary answered
"That’s right. Why didn’t you return my phone call?"
"What phone call?"
"I had…" Webb groaned. "Never mind. You never got it."
"Clay?" Mac asked but fighting the urge to mother him, kept her hands at her side.
"I’ll explain in a minute." Webb returned his gaze to the agent and pointed to her shoulder. "What happened to you?"
: :
AJ silently closed the door behind him. Cassie was standing at the small window overlooking an airshaft. "You okay?"
"What a day?" She sighed and he came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders pulling her back against him. "I can’t believe we got him out of there."
"It’s not over for him or for us," AJ whispered.
"I know. Anspach called me while you were talking with Mac on the phone."
"What did he say?"
"Oh, pretty much what you would expect. He says he’s concerned for Webb as a person, but how do we know that Palmer wasn’t successful."
"That’s bullshit and you know it." He rested his chin on her forehead. "We can’t continue like this – they can’t continue like this. They’re all going to need rest and soon."
"Hmmmmmm. Don’t say that. I might fall asleep right here."
"Then you need it too."
She turned in his embrace and lifted up her head to demand a kiss. "Let’s get everything in place then we’ll start tomorrow morning. But I want to hear what Webb has to say."
"Okay. But dinner then bed."
"Will you…" she gulped and looked away.
"Try and keep me away, Agent Ryan. The shit has already hit the fan. I’m just surprised that the newspapers haven’t tracked you down.
She groaned and buried her nose in his shirt. "Oh, God. What if they go to the hotel and find out about Marcella and Francesca?"
"Now why would that happen?"
"Because it can."
"Then you’re checking out of the hotel. I’ll have Galindez take care of Marcella and Francesca. There’s no reason for them to stay in New York. Marcella got what she wanted. You made sure of that. She can go home."
There was a firm rap on the door. Cassie stepped back. "Come on in."
In an effort to keep from hovering over Clay, Mac helped Ed Green pass out cups of coffee. Everyone but AJ and Briscoe seemed to gratefully take sips of the hot fresh brew. She saw the disgusted look on the Admiral’s face but heard Briscoe sigh, "I’m never going to make it through the meeting. Wake me up if I start snoring, will ya."
"Shut up, Lennie." His partner grinned.
Mac sat in a chair against the wall. Clay sat in a chair between Green and Rabb. Greenwald stood almost at attention, his gaze locked on the spy’s back. Cassie sat behind the Captain’s desk and AJ lounged against the wall behind her. When the door opened and Anita Van Buren stepped inside, looked around and then sat down in the sofa next to Briscoe, Cassie finally sat forward and began.
Cassie spared a glance for each person, but before she could begin there was a quick tap at the door. It opened immediately and Serena Southerlyn, looking as wan and tired as everyone else, stepped into the room. "Sorry, Branch wanted me back here." She blushed and looked around, before gratefully taking the seat that Ed Green had just vacated. He stood to her side and, if his stance was a bit more overprotective than it needed to be, only Cassie and Webb seemed to notice.
Serena only had eyes for Webb for a moment. Taking a deep breath she finally took the rest of the room in. "It is the opinion of the District Attorney’s office that we are willing to cooperate with this case, indeed we feel we have cooperated above and beyond what would be considered normal." Cassie and AJ exchanged looks, Rabb made a little harrumphing noise. Only Webb met her look dead on. "For us to continue, however, Mr. Branch insists upon a full disclosure as to the events leading up to and culminating in Officer Carter’s death." She collapsed back into her chair and didn’t shake off Green’s hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Southerlyn." Cassie started, but stopped when Webb sat up and leaned toward the Assistant D.A. "Webb?"
Clay exhaled a long breath. "I wish I could tell you everything, Miss Southerlyn. I guess this is as good a place to begin. Cassie?"
"Go ahead, Mr. Webb," Cassie replied formally.
Webb rubbed his hand across his mouth. "I’m unclear of the dates, you understand but sometime in June after the 26th I was walking down a back street in Alexandria, normally a quite innocent and safe thing to do at 8:30 at night. I was on my way to buy a friend a birthday gift."
"Kind of late wasn’t it, Mr. Webb?" Briscoe interjected ignoring the glares from the JAG people.
"Not in my line, detective. I had spent the day going over – well actually I can’t tell you what I was going over, suffice it to say I was busy doing my job. Though from what Colonel MacKenzie and others have told me, perhaps there is little or no proof of that."
"Continue, Mr. Webb," Serena said.
"Of course. I was halfway down the block when car headlights blinded me. I put my hand to my eyes to try and see better, and I reached for my gun when the car stopped, and men got out. However, another car had pulled up behind me. When I turned, I felt something strike my neck. I assume it was a tranquilizer dart." He looked back at Greenwald who met his gaze unflinchingly. "I don’t remember much, but what I do remember, I don’t wish to share with the class. It has no bearing on the case of The People of New York against Clark Palmer or Clayton Webb for that matter."
"It might if what happened to you affected you to the point that you were not responsible for your actions when you shot officer Carter," Cassie said softly.
Webb smiled and shook his head. "But Cassie, I didn’t kill Carter. The memory is fuzzy, but it was a classic set up."
Serena almost looked relieved. Briscoe and Green didn’t look particularly convinced or happy. Briscoe snapped, "How are you so sure of that?"
Webb shrugged. "Because I am. Look, detective, ask any of these people, I’m an ace liar when it’s called for. I also know my…shall we say worth…to the agency that still employs me. If I killed that man I could tell you I did without fear of going to jail." He held up his hand to ward off the outburst from the New Yorkers. "I’m not saying there might not be a royal cock fight between New York and DC but…" he shook his head. "It’s irrelevant. I do remember and I’m not lying." He sat back in his chair, closed his eyes.
"I had been playing for Ada Marshall all night. I’m not sure of the times, but I was taking a short break. I had a drink and ate a hamburger – not a very good one. I think you may actually be able to get me to try a Beltway Burger now, Sarah."
"I’ll hold you to it," Mac said.
"I was just getting ready to return to the piano when Grant, the owner, pulled me aside and said Ada needed to see me out back. I walked through the kitchen and out the back door. Ada was standing there looking up and down the alley. I saw the body at her feet. I was a little scared and probably a bit nervous. You see, I had gone out back expecting to get a fix."
"So you admit you’re addicted to heroin," Lieutenant Van Buren asked calmly before either of her detectives could get more excited than they all ready were.
Webb paused and for the first time since returning to the hospital turned and gazed at Greenwald. "Stan? It doesn’t feel right. I’ve never been addicted, but still, I’ve studied the effects and…" his voice trailed off.
Greenwald studied Webb and then turned his attention to MacKenzie. "Did you check that out, like we discussed?"
Mac shook her head. "No time. But…" She looked to Van Buren. "Ma’am, the nickel bags that Webb had on him, that he had ostensibly received from Carter, we’ll need to check those."
"Why?" Briscoe demanded. He smelled a cover up of epic proportions. He had no doubt that Webb was Webb and not Palmer. He had no doubt that Webb was somebody important in the government. He was beginning to doubt that they would ever be able to charge him for the murder of a cop, good or bad.
Greenwald cleared his throat. "Because, while there is no doubt that Mr. Webb was pumped full of some seriously mind-altering drugs, he does not show signs of acute or even recreational heroin addiction."
"What the hell do you call his performance in Belleview?"
Mac could see Webb tense up and she started to say something, anything to draw the harsh criticism away from him but Greenwald stepped forward and in a quiet but firm voice said, "I suggest you wait until we find out where Webb was held and see exactly what was done to him before you decide he is lying." His intensity and obvious sincerity made his point and Briscoe sat back, not really satisfied but knowing there was little to be done at this point. Greenwald looked at Webb who just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Continue."
When she saw Webb’s look of confusion, Cassie prodded him. "You saw the body at Ada’s feet."
"Yes." Webb sighed. "Like I said, I didn’t really understand it at the time, and I said something to her. I’m sure something pitiful and obsequious." His tone was bitter. "She hit me and forced a gun into my hand." He sighed. "She told me that it was my fault he was dead and I could just wait for the cops. Then I heard a shot from somewhere. It was muffled." He grew quiet and this time no one interrupted his thoughts. "I think it might have come from inside a building, only the door was open. Understand?" At a few confused nods he bit his lip and then continued. "I just stood there, trying to figure out what was going on when I heard someone start yelling." He gulped and turned visibly nervous. He started licking his lips and there was a visible tremor in his muscles.
Mac started to go to him, but Greenwald shook his head, "Wait."
The entire room tensed as Webb worked through his demons. "The police came. I-I." Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. He wiped his mouth again.
Lennie Briscoe looked from his partner to Greenwald and then to Webb. He was ready to draw his gun if necessary. Cop killer or not, whatever had set him off when the cops came, it looked like he was going to blow up again. Green stepped between Serena and Webb and waited. They were shocked by the way Webb pulled himself together. They could see the struggle within the man.
Webb’s voice was barely above a whisper. "I couldn’t stand to be around them, they were bad. Only I know now, of course, that they weren’t. They thought I had killed someone. I wanted to tell them, but before she ran away, Ada told me that if I said anything to them, she would make sure that he got me back."
"Who would get you back, Webb?" AJ asked gruffly. He couldn’t believe how much it pained him to see Webb in such distress. He didn’t like the look on Mac’s face at all.
"Palmer." Webb whispered. "She said his name. I remember being confused but more than that I was terrified." He looked Briscoe right in the eye. "You can’t understand what he did to me. I pray to God you never do."
Briscoe dropped his eyes and finally accepted the fact that the man before him was telling the truth. "So where the hell does that leave us? Who killed Carter and why?"
"More importantly, what does Ada Marshall have to do with Palmer?" AJ asked as Webb tried hard to control the terror creeping up on him.
Webb tried every trick he could remember, knew exactly the forces pulling at him. He looked to Greenwald then to Mac. Both of them seemed to be concentrating on him, Greenwald with determination, Mac with utter love. He took a deep breath. "I don’t know AJ. Can we find her?"
"She’s dead, Webb," Green snapped. From what he had learned of Ada Marshall, there was little to recommend her, but no one deserved to have her face destroyed that way. "The coroner is working on her right now."
Webb knew he should feel sad and some part of him did but a sense of utter relief washed over him. She had hurt him and humiliated him for little or no reason that he could see – unless, of course, she was Palmer’s pawn or partner. He looked to Cassie. "You’ll have to do a full security check on her."
"Already on it." Cassie leaned back in the chair and began ticking off points. "We need intel. Having Webb back is the most important thing. Now we have to discover why he was taken, by whom he was taken, where, and the ultimate moneymen. Considering Webb’s position, this has the deepest National Security import. I see this as a multi-headed snake, frankly." She looked at Van Buren. "You are in a unique and dangerous position. You will need to find out who knew, how much they knew and gather the evidence against them."
"That should be a IAD task," Van Buren insisted.
"Are there men in IAD that you trust?"
All three cops snorted, but Van Buren sighed, "Let me think about it."
"Just ask. If there is someone you can work with, let me know. I’ll have him assigned." That taken care of, she turned her attention to Perkins. "What have you been up to?"
Perkins blushed, but lifted her chin. "I’ve got a few contacts in the Russian immigrant community here. There was a case I worked on. People fear Karpov , but I think there are some business owners that I can see and talk to. Maybe catch a break."
"Fine, tomorrow start on it. Commander Rabb WILL see you home and if need be, I’ll park a cop outside your door." Cassie’s tone left no room for interpretation. "You aren’t even to go out for dinner – God knows where you two would end up." The two blushed, and AJ thought he had never met a woman quite so much like Rabb before.
The room fell silent and Cassie leveled her gaze on Webb. "Well, sir?"
Webb met her stare and sighed, "I better check in with the boss." He looked back at Mac. "You can…"
"I can go back with you," She said softly. "Then tomorrow, we’ll check in with Agent Ryan and see how we can help figure this out."
"Actually Webb," Greenwald inwardly groaned when Webb stiffened at his voice, "We need to get down everything that you remember. It will help find Karpov and uncover the reason behind your torture."
"Did Palmer ever need a reason?" Rabb snapped. He didn’t like the way his friend was shaking. He had never known Webb to show any sign of weakness; regret and remorse, yes, but never the shaking terror that he was seeing before him. It gave Rabb pause because he knew that he had more in common with Webb than he cared to admit most times. "You have any idea where he held you, Clay?"
Webb just shook his head. He was tired. He didn’t want to admit it, but the terror and images were with him almost constantly. He was fighting them because he knew Sarah expected it of him. Or perhaps, it wasn’t even that. Perhaps, he just didn’t want to burden her any more. "No. But maybe Greenwald here can hypnotize me or something."
Greenwald and Mac glanced at each other. Mac looked hopefully at him, but Greenwald shook his head. He felt the only way that Webb had a real chance at recovery was a visit to that room down in his basement and he doubted that Webb or MacKenzie would allow it.
Cassie stood up. "Well I can only order the Navy and the FBI around – and I’m not real sure about the Navy – but I STRONGLY suggest that anyone who hasn’t actually slept in the last twenty-four hours, do so." She looked pointedly at Serena Southerlyn.
But before she could continue, AJ spoke up. "I agree, but I have one question for the police." Cassie blushed but nodded. The detectives and Southerlyn gave him their full attention. "Why did you go to that flop house? The first one where Webb stayed?"
Southerlyn glanced at Green and then bit her lip. "I got a phone call the day before."
"That’s what you said. Could you identify the voice?"
"Of course not. Oh wait. You mean could I tell if it was a man or woman? What kind of accent?"
"That’s correct. And what did the caller say?"
Serena shrugged. "Man, no way of telling the age; neither old nor young, very mild accent, but probably Baltic. You want to listen to it?"
"You taped it?"
"Have been ever since 911; before, sometimes. We don’t know what’s important or not anymore. Come to my office tomorrow and you can listen to it." She looked at Ryan. "You can have your guys go over it you want."
"Excellent. Now, I’m going to my hotel." Cassie kept her eyes away from AJ. "I’m taking a nap, then I’m going to have dinner with an old enemy."
"Who!" Several people voiced the question, but she only heard AJ’s low growl.
Cassie let a faint smile shadow her lips. "Dominic Vitorio. He and I go way back."
"Agent Ryan, I don’t think that is a good idea," Southerlyn said tactfully.
"Oh, don’t worry. When Vitorio hears from me, he will insist upon having dinner at his house. That way your guys and my guys can have the night off. Just think of all the tape we will save recording absolute gibberish." She waved her hands in front of her. "Out everybody. Tomorrow is another day. We’ve got Webb back, we can take a small – very needed – breather."
Everyone but Van Buren vacated the office. She settled down behind the desk and took a moment to bury her head in her hands. "What the hell have I gotten myself into here?"
AJ caught up to Cassie and took her by the arm. "You are NOT going to dinner with il Capo dei Capi of the New York crime families."
He expected an argument, but she just smiled up at him and whispered, "Well I hadn’t planned on going alone. You probably ought not to wear your uniform."
"For God’s sake, why?"
"I’ll tell you on the way back to the hotel."
Gunny, who had been quiet throughout the meeting led Greenwald, Mac and Webb down the steps of the precinct house. Rabb and Mary were just behind them. Green was walking with Serena off to the right of Mac and Briscoe hung back to speak with Ryan.
"Hey, Webb!" Someone from behind them called out.
Webb turned around to respond. As he did, he noticed the tiny red dot wavering in the middle of Southerlyn’s off-white suit, right above her heart. Even as he recognized it for what it was, he knew he shouldn’t say anything. Even has he shouted out "Gun!" he knew he should keep quiet. Even as he lunged for the very startled Assistant D.A., dragging her to the ground, he knew that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. Even as shouts and gunfire exploded around him, he knew that Palmer would be very displeased with him. Just before he dissolved into the nightmare once again, he understood with crystal clarity just what he was supposed to do.