Chapter 58
Derek's Room...
Nick gently pushed open the door and saw Derek sitting up in bed, flexing his right hand. "You look better.... Everything work OK?" he asked.
"Seems to be," Derek replied as he eased his arm back into its sling. "Bit of a headache.... Shoulder hurts like hell.... How are you doing?... How's your leg?"
"Hurts like hell," Nick echoed, "but it's OK.... You know... it's a good thing you've got a guardian angel on your case.... He must be pretty high up the heavenly food chain too."
Derek's eyebrow rose. "How do you mean?"
"If Ginge hadn't happened to find that tape, which wasn't in the most obvious place in the world.... If he hadn't insisted on dragging a VCR and monitor up from the Comms Room, we'd never have watched it... never have looked for that particular lab... never have found the refrigerators or the drugs.... Plus... one of the refrigerators had broken down. The Cipro might've been in that one, but it wasn't... and miracle of miracles... it was still good long after it wasn't supposed to be."
"Sounds like my guardian angel was Corporal Jones," Derek commented. "Can I see the tape?"
"You bored with my conversation already?" Nick asked over his shoulder, as he stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the tap, filled a glass, and returned with two Cipro tablets, which he placed in the precept's left palm.
"Not at all," Derek chuckled, then downed the pills. "At least I can understand you.... Ginge seems anxious to avoid me... and the horses must speak better Arabic and Pashtun than I do... since Yusuf keeps running off to check on them."
"Well... I think Yusuf got pretty shook up.... You know?..." the SEAL responded quietly.
"Yes," Derek sighed. "I do know... all too well." In a gesture of frustration, he brushed a long, salt and pepper curl back from his face. "It's the story of my life."
As Nick returned the glass to the bathroom, he looked back to see that distant, hurt look that sometimes came into his friend's eyes when he thought no one would see. He wondered, was it the same look that a seven-year-old Derek Rayne might have had the first time his psychic abilities had scared a friend... or had been ridiculed in childish cruelty?
"I think I'm the one Ginge is trying to avoid," the SEAL confessed. "I had to pull rank.... He wants to 'phone home'... call in the cavalry.... His stiff upper lip is a little bent outta shape."
Derek gazed up at Nick. "You were right," he said. "There's more here.... I'm not sure what... exactly... but I know it's vital that we handle it correctly. Do you think he'll fall into line?"
"Ginge'll get over it.... He's a good guy... a good soldier... one I'd want on my side... but he needs to be doing something.... So he's gone off to case the joint some more... down around what we're calling the 'wine cellar'. 'It's bloody gigantic,' he says.... Filled with canisters of chemical shit....." Nick paused to chuckle. "His map keeps getting bigger and bigger."
"So... the tape?" Derek reminded his companion.
"OK," the SEAL reluctantly agreed. "But if you get tired, we stop.... We've got time.... It's pretty boring stuff... unless you count the porn."
< < + > >
Hours later...
"Play it again, please," Derek requested.
"Again!" Nick turned in surprise. "What did I miss?" He rose from the chair and rewound the tape. "Wish Ginge had found a remote."
"This kind didn't have remotes," said Derek. "Not back then.... It had a little button on a cord that you could use to pause or play.... That's all."
"Well... I remember remotes," Nick countered, as he settled back into the ragged chair. "So... what am I missing?"
The precept smiled. "You didn't miss anything.... The woman... the doctor... I recognised her."
"From where?... Is she Legacy?"
"A long time ago.... Dr. Marina Harkala." Derek sighed and settled down into the bed as the shower scene appeared once more.
"Not another ex-lover!" Nick cast a wicked, lop-sided grin at his precept. Sometimes, he wondered if, during his youth, Derek Rayne had slept with every female Legacy member he'd met.
Derek's eyebrow arched, but he ignored the question. Nick knew better than to repeat it. Instead, the SEAL sat in silence, sometimes dozing, while the tape played on.
* * *
Hours later, when the tape had ended again, Derek once more quietly asked, "Again... please." The precept watched Nick watch the static on the screen. He listened to the hum of the tape as it rewound. "She'd be in her sixties now.... Her family was Legacy," he explained, breaking the silence. "Her specialty was DNA... specifically, recovering it from ancient specimens.... She left the Legacy to marry.... Her husband was Soviet military.... I believe, a colonel in the army. The older man... at the desk... and in the menage a trois... could be him. I vaguely remember seeing him... once.... I think he accompanied her to an anthropological symposium in Oslo... back around 1978... or '79. I was there with Arthur Middleton."
"Jurassic Park shit," Nick muttered as he stretched, then arched his back and rotated his shoulders and neck.
"Mmm... mmm," Derek confirmed. "Take a break, Nick.... There's no need for you to sit through this again. I'm just... searching... trying to get a 'feel' for something... but I don't know what."
The SEAL was about to protest, but his leg was aching. The burn was taut and sore. He needed to loosen it up. He needed exercise. "OK," he agreed, reaching for his crutch. "I'll see if Yusuf's got some food on, then I'll get him or Ginge to come in and keep you company."
"I don't need a 'sitter'," Derek retorted, but instantly regretted his tone. "I'm fine.... I'm in bed, watching TV... for Gott's sake.... What harm can I come to?"
"Huh!" Nick exclaimed loudly. "You want a list!"
< < + > >
The Kitchen... later...
Nick felt much more human... thanks to a long, hot shower, clean clothes, and a large helping of Ginge's stew. He and the SAS man had then split a pot of coffee, while they had discussed the Brit's ongoing search of the complex. An undeclared truce had been made between them.
"I'm gonna turn in," Nick said with a yawn. "You look done in.... Why don't you take a break?"
"I'm knackered... right enough," Ginge agreed, stretching awkwardly. "Feet are so bloody tired, I feel like I'm walking on my knees. Hope I'm tired enough not to dream." Both men left the kitchen and shuffled off towards their rooms.
"Know what you mean.... See ya," Nick said as he paused before his door. He received a sleepy wave in return. The SEAL once more gently pushed open the door, expecting to find Derek asleep. Instead, the precept was sitting in the shabby armchair, which he'd pulled closer to the TV. He was so focused on the screen that he failed to hear Nick's entry.
"You must be joking!" the SEAL snapped, striding across the room to turn off the television. He looked around, unable to believe that Yusuf would leave Derek alone. To his surprise, he saw the young man, sitting on the floor in the farthest corner of the room, his head drooping as he dozed.
Derek read his friend's expression. "He's a little wary of me at the moment."
The SEAL nodded. He now took Derek Rayne and everything that came with him in stride, but he remembered the first time he'd seen the other man gripped by the "Sight". He had always known, from his father, that Derek was "different"... that he had hunches... got "feelings". Many times he had seen the distant look in the hazel eyes, the eerie pause, the moment of held breath, which betrayed a visitation of the "Sight". However, it had been his first glimpse of Derek actually experiencing true "vision" that had freaked him. It had made him realize that the man really was "different".
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Nick demanded. "What's so fascinating about that damned tape?... Have you seen something in it... or have you just 'seen' something.... Come on, Boss...." Studying the other man's inscrutable face, he wondered what he was thinking. "Level with me."
Ignoring the question, the precept asked, "Have you found her room?... The one on the tape?" He struggled to stand. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, he swayed.
Nick stepped forward to steady him. "They're all the same.... Nothing special about hers...." Suspicion crept into his voice. "Is there?"
"I'd like to see it... please."
The SEAL noticed that another question had been ignored. "Yusuf!" he called. "Get Ginge.... OK?"
The young man nodded and hurried from the room. A moment later he returned with the worried Brit. Nick heard his voice in the corridor. "What the fuck's happening?"
Hobbling in, bleary-eyed, the corporal stopped short in surprise when he saw Derek standing in the middle of the room. "What are you doing up?" he snapped. "Why aren't you in bed?"
"Damned good question," Nick muttered darkly.
"Ginge...," said Derek, "the room on the tape... the woman's room.... Do you know which one it is?"
"Yeah... I think so.... There's one... down along the corridor.... It's got a mirror on the wall above the desk.... There was a small rug still in there... with a pink rose in the middle. Gotta be a woman."
Nick snorted, wondering what Alex or Rachel would have made of that comment, but it was the voice of Derek's occasional lover, Judge Maggie, that spoke, "Ginger Snap... Sugar... I ain't never yet met a man that could pass a mirror without admirin' his fine good looks." He chuckled to himself at the thought, then explained to the Brit, "Derek wants to see the room."
"Why?" Ginge asked in surprise. "There's nothing in it.... Like this and all the others, it was cleaned out."
"Search me." Nick shrugged.
"Show me, please." Derek stepped towards the doorway with Nick reluctantly at his side... to keep him upright.
< < + > >
Ginge opened the door to the room and held it wide for Nick and Derek to enter, then followed."What are we looking for?" he asked.
Nick shrugged in reply. "Just make him happy... and look," he said, ignoring the precept's sharp glance.
Derek leaned against the wall and watched, while the two soldiers searched. It didn't take long.... The two metal bed frames were moved... the bare, stained mattresses turned and slit.... Empty drawers were pulled from the desk.... The footlockers were opened and upended... their linings examined. The rug was pulled up and shaken. The edges of the mirror were checked to make sure that there was no gap behind. The tiny bathroom was inspected.
"What's up with the kid?" Ginge muttered to Nick, tilting his head towards the door.
The SEAL glanced up and saw Yusuf, standing outside the room. The boy's dark eyes reflected his troubled mood.
"Spooked," Nick whispered back. "It's not every day your hero sets you on fire." The SEAL turned back to Derek and announced, "Nothing here."
Derek nodded. He hadn't really expected them to find anything. "Ginge... you're positive nothing of interest was said on the tape?... Did you understand everything?"
"I maybe didn't get every word, but I understood the gist," the soldier replied. "Most was nothing but ordinary chatter.... 'Hurry up.... We're late....' No rocket scientist stuff.... Not much shop talk at all unless you count Le Sex Shoppe. I think that even if they didn't guess about the visual surveillance, they knew the place was bugged."
Derek nodded again, then walked over to the nearest bed and ran long, sensitive fingers over the cold iron railing. It had a masculine feel. This had been the colonel's bed. He moved on to the other.... Yes... definitely hers. He turned to the mirror. At first his own reflection, hollow-eyed, stared back. He looked deeply into his own eyes and swayed slightly as he lost himself in their hazel depths.
Nick stepped forward to offer support once more, but Derek held up his hand and the SEAL backed away, gesturing for Ginge to do the same.
Derek placed his open palm on the desk. His reflection wavered and evaporated in a queasy, heat haze. It was replaced by a ghostly image of Marina Harkala, seated at this desk, writing on papers that had rested where Derek's hand now lay. He felt her fear. "Septem plagae septem angelorum
... seven plagues...," he murmured, as his head spun and his knees gave out. He tried to catch himself on the desk, but one hand wasn't enough.Nick and Ginge failed to reach him before he crumpled to the floor. Yusuf hurried into the room and dropped to his knees beside the precept. He snapped angrily in his own tongue at the two soldiers. Nick didn't ask for a translation... the tone told all. "Da'reek?..." the young man called. For a second, he hesitated, reluctant to touch the other man, but he quickly shoved his fears aside and gently slipped an arm around Derek's shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position.
"Boss?..." Nick waited for the signs. He cursed himself; he should have been closer, no matter what Derek had wanted. Finally, he saw his friend's eyelids flutter, then the eyes opened, and at last focused. "You OK?" the SEAL asked.
Derek remained silent, but took a deep breath, then laid his head in his hand. "Stupid!" he berated himself, shaking off Yusuf's arm. "Damned stupid! You'd think I was Miss Scarlet with her corset laced too tight. Help me up."
"What the hell do you expect, Derek?" Nick challenged as he pulled the precept to his feet. "A week ago we were digging chunks of steel out of your back.... Less than three days ago, you were at death's door. Now you're up... wandering around... on some sort of damned vision quest. Did you hit your shoulder?"
Derek shook off Nick's hand and ignored his comments. "She kept a journal.... We've got to find it."
"Gotta find it?" Nick repeated in irritated disbelief. "Why in the world would it still be here?... It's been fifteen years!... Wouldn't she have destroyed it... or taken it with her when they pulled out?"
"It's here... somewhere," Derek insisted. "And she might not have left."
"Right." Nick glanced round the bare room. "And I suppose she's hiding under the bed."
Ginge sat back on his haunches, not keen to get involved in any of this spooky shit... nor to get caught in a battle between friends... but duty was duty and a mission was a mission. "You mean a notebook of some sort?" he hesitantly asked. "Well... there's sure not a fuckin' thing in here.... Why the fuck are we worryin' about this.... We gotta get the hell outta here and tell what we found.... Then... if'n you're still worried about this friggin' journal, they can help us hunt for it."
"Corporal Jones...." Derek's tone was academic ice. "Your vocabulary leaves much to be desired. When we get back to civilization, remind me to buy you a dictionary... sans the letter 'F'."
"Up yours, Professor!" the Brit retorted. "I'll go look round the locker room," he offered, eager to be elsewhere. "I found what was left of the gym the other day... down back of the bogs. Maybe she had a locker and tucked the friggin' book there somewhere." He turned and stalked away, leaving Nick and Yusuf to deal with the disgruntled precept.
* * *
The two men had no difficulty in persuading Derek to return to his room. His tantrum was done. When he even agreed to return to his bed, Nick was surprised... and perturbed. What's he up to, he wondered uneasily. What's going on in that conniving brain?
"Tea... Da'reek?" Yusuf asked quietly as he helped the precept to settle in.
Derek nodded. He wasn't really listening to the young man. With his left elbow, he pushed his pillows against the steel frame and sat up in the bed, trying to find a way to not put pressure on his shoulder.
"Boss... you need sleep... not tea," Nick protested.
"Mmmm...," Derek absently muttered, his mind elsewhere.
The SEAL knew he was being ignored, sighed, and looked longingly at his bed. Finally, he pulled off his boots, grabbed a blanket and pillow and settled into the shabby chair.
< < + > >
Hours later Ginge returned. As he quietly entered the bedroom, he saw Nick dozing in the chair. He looked around the door and was not surprised to find Derek still awake.
"Didn't find a 'fuckin'' thing," the Brit complained, pointedly using the "F" word. "Checked the loo... all round the toilets, sinks.... I was hoping for a loose tile or something.... Checked the lockers, on top, underneath, and in between... then I thought of the labs.... It'd be the natural place for her.... I turned out all the file cabinets... drawers... looked on the bottoms... up inside... nothing.... I even looked all through that old piano in the mess... and all the sheet music left in the stool..... I think it's a wild goose chase, but I can try the offices tomorrow.... or what about the kitchen?"
Nick had woken at the sound of Ginge's voice. He yawned loudly, stretched, and slipped on his boots.
"Thank you, Corporal... but I've been thinking," Derek spoke softly... almost to himself, "where would I hide something like that.... I know I'm being watched and listened to.... I wouldn't risk a bound journal or binder.... I'd do loose papers that I could slip into a clipboard or shuffle into a file folder... amidst lab notes.... I'd want it to seem normal... nothing special... like the 'Purloined Letter,' hidden amongst a sheaf of other letters."
"She might not have known about the cameras," Nick interrupted.
"She knew," Derek said with certainty, dismissing that thought, "and she'd have made quite sure where the cameras were.... With her background, the KGB was bound to be suspicious... and she'd know they were." He paused, looked up at Ginge, and carefully framed his statements, uncertain of how much the Brit knew. "There was an ongoing tension between our organization and the KGB. Ordinarily, because of the our Western ties... the fact that corporate headquarters was in London... they'd have been considered enemies of the state. During Stalin's time it got pretty rough.... Some of our people ended up in Lubyanka Prison or the Gulags as hostages... buildings and bank accounts were confiscated... but we remained useful.... We had expertise in the paranormal and the Soviets were interested in making use of that.... So... some of our members were active in the Soviet scientific community... in projects involving ESP, remote viewing, and so forth. It was the same with China. Our organization was the necessary evil, but an evil to be observed and controlled... and bled for the greater good of the Soviet utopia.
"With Marina... they needed her intellect.... Her specialty wasn't the paranormal, so, except for her family, she easily separated herself and her research from Moscow House... from us.... Nevertheless, she would be somewhat suspect.... So... where would she be expected to write her notes?.... Where would she be left more or less on her own?"
"The lab, of course," Ginge said with exasperation. "I told you... I looked there."
"Mmmm...." Derek scratched his beard. He wouldn't be sorry to see it go. He'd never cared much for facial hair. "If I was her... I'd want to protect my notes.... There'd be other scientists around... lab technicians... janitors. Any one of them might be KGB... so I'd have someplace to tuck my papers... someplace easy... inconspicuous for me to get to... unlikely to be stumbled across by someone else. Where would it be difficult?... Where would Marina know if someone got curious?"
A smile played across the older man's face. "A capuchin monkey is territorial... noisy.... One would make an excellent burglar alarm... one that might even bite someone it didn't know.... It might be smart to spread the rumor that this capuchin monkey was infectious and vicious." Derek looked up at Ginge. "When you searched the labs did you check the cages?"
"Sure," the redhead replied. "I looked at them.... I pulled out the shit trays and such."
"Do it again," said Derek. "Thoroughly.... Look at the tape.... Figure out where the camera was... and figure out what you'd do if you were her and didn't want that camera to see what you were doing... but make sure you're within two or three feet of a cage... a monkey's arm length."
"I'll come with you," Nick volunteered, certain now that Derek would sleep until
they had found and handed over the prize, and for that reason he had no intention of
rushing. He turned back to the precept, pulled the Cipro bottle from his pocket, and
tossed it in Derek's lap. "Make sure you take the pills before you go to sleep."
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