Chapter 16

Angel Island, California

Dominick tugged on the lapels of his starched, gray butler's jacket as he hurried to answer the front door. It wasn't often that anyone arrived unannounced. Major Boyle must have forgotten to tell him that someone had been cleared through security. The bell rang again, followed first by the clang of the massive brass door knocker, then by a firm fist.

The majordomo unlocked the door and swung it wide. "Mr. Sloan, good evening," he said in surprise. "I'm sorry, sir... I wasn't told that you were expected." Dominick stepped aside to allow the Legacy's Precept-at-large to enter.

"I'm not," he replied curtly. "Where's Derek?"

Big trouble, the servant thought. "In the library, I believe. May I take your hat and coat?" he asked. "I'll take your bag to your usual room and unpack for you."

"Thank you, Dominick," said Sloan, handing over his camel topcoat and tweed hat.

Dominick watched the man's back go rigid as he strode toward the stairs. He picked up the leather overnight bag and decided to take the back way to the guest room.

* * *

The library was empty when Sloan entered. "Derek!" he shouted.

"Hello, William," said the familiar Dutch accented voice from the mezzanine above. Derek leaned over the railing. "Still using your access codes, I see.... Just passing through on your way to Nome?"

The older man looked up. So, he was going to start out with the innocence gambit. "Already been there tonight.... Come down here... my neck's stiff enough after a midnight polar flight."

"Seems to me your neck is always pretty stiff these days," Derek commented as he tucked his book under his arm and descended the spiral staircase.

A map at the far end of the conference table caught Sloan's eye. He walked over to look at it... a pilot's Operational Navigation Chart. "What's this?" he asked. "Planning a second honeymoon?"

Derek laid his book on the table and moved to fold up the map. Sloan placed a hand firmly on the paper. He bent over to take a closer look and spotted the purple line marking the boundary between Libya and Egypt and a printed notation that read: CAUTION! Flying outside airways or advisory routes PROHIBITED in EGYPT.

"Odd place for a vacation... even for you," he commented, looking up at Derek.

"A question came up about Alexander the Great's possible burial at Siwa Oasis," Derek said, nonchalantly, as he steadfastly returned the gaze.

"Then you'd better get another map... this one doesn't go far enough north."

"Yes, I suppose I'd better." He gave the chart a yank to free it from Sloan's grasp and proceeded to fold it up.

The Legacy's troubleshooter walked over to look at the book which Derek had just set down. He flipped open the volume, A Discussion of the Proto-Carthaginian Civilization and Its Sphere of Influence from an Archaeological Viewpoint. "A little before old Alex's time, don't you think?" Sloan stated.

"I really don't have anything to say," said Derek as he stepped back to face Sloan. With deliberateness, he closed the book and kept his hand on it. "So why don't you hop back on your jet and go home... or did you come by broomstick?"

"I'm a little more up-to-date than that.... It was a Hoover... and it's being recharged, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"I'm sure we have a spare around here somewhere. I'll ask Dominick to fix you up and you can be on your way. Do give my regards to Patricia and the girls." Derek tucked the volume under his arm and started for the door. "Good night, William. I'm going to bed."

The older man took a sideways step to bar the way. "Derek," he said firmly, "cut the games. I know about Libya."

Derek tried to sidestep Sloan, but William grasped him by the elbow to force him around. "Libya!" he said, raising his usually controlled voice for the first time. "What the hell are you thinking! We're a hair's breadth away from a shooting war over there. They've invaded northern Chad.... France is sending troops in to support Chad's pro-Christian government.... the U.S. is aiding France... and it wasn't that long ago that the Navy shot down Libyan jets over the Gulf of Sidra."

Derek tried to pull his arm away, but Sloan held on. "Derek... talk to me!" he ordered.

Derek hesitated, but didn't pull away. Sloan could see in his eyes that his mind was debating... perhaps, planning the next skirmish line. Then, to Sloan's surprise, he yielded. "Hassan called me."

"Hassan... so that's it!"

"He's terrified of something that's happening in a place called Al-Kufrah," Derek explained. "He knows nothing of the Legacy, but he knew about my father... and he's scared enough to ask for help from a non-believer, an infidel."

"You?" Sloan said in exasperation. "In the past two years the man's been linked to half a dozen assassinations and bombings. He's not the Hassan you knew at school. If you don't get some sense into that thick Dutch skull of yours, I'll take the matter to London House. It's in Cairo's bailiwick anyway."

Derek pulled his arm away. "I'm the one with the invitation," he said flatly, "...just me."

Sloan felt his temper surge. No one could infuriate him in quite the same way as Derek Rayne. "Hey, Derek!" he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'd like to invite you to jump off the Golden Gate. Want to come?" He knew that man so well. "...and you weren't planning on telling anyone, were you?"

"What you don't know, can't hurt you," replied Derek. "Just trust me."

"Me? Trust you?" William retorted. "I wouldn't trust you any farther than I can throw you... and you weren't going in with any back-up, either.... Damn it, Derek!" He was becoming frustrated... this was foolhardy even by Rayne standards.

"...and who'd go with me?" Derek asked. "You? Johnny? You're both so bloody American, you'd have the Libyans down your neck in a second. I don't need that kind of attention."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to do that all by yourself. You usually do... and, just what are you... aborigine?"

"I'll fly from Amsterdam on my Dutch passport," explained Derek. "No one will be any the wiser."

Sloan mind couldn't register what he was hearing. "Oh?" he said, actually on the brink of laughter. "Very funny," he chuckled, "and I thought the Dutch were a humorless people. I suppose no one out there is going to connect Derek Rayne, Dutch citizen, with Derek Rayne, American citizen, Chairman, Luna Foundation? If I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were trying to get yourself killed. It may be Libya, but it's not the moon.... They do have newspapers and television... and I seem to recall that you got a pretty big spread in most of the European magazines when you and Kym got married. Speaking of Kym?"

"Her sister's in town... they went to the movies."

"Have you told her?"

"Good Got, William!" Derek's anger flared. "I wish you'd go into analysis to get that big brother complex of yours sorted out. I don't need one or want one."

"OK," Sloan replied with a false calmness. "Let me try my father complex out on you. Derek... you are not going. I forbid it!" he said coldly as he again grasped Derek's arm.

The young precept jerked away from Sloan's grip. "You forbid it? Like hell!" A silence followed as the two men glared at each other... the impasse was not going to be easily broken.

At that moment Johnny Boyle burst into the library. "Hey, Derek!" he called. "Dominick said Sloan's looking...."

"Hello, Major Boyle," the Precept-at-large said evenly. "Do join us, please."

"Hell," Johnny said under his breath. "That's OK." He recognized the signs of a battle royal and edged back toward the door. "I wouldn't want to interrupt... ummm.... I have a pie in the oven... excuse me, gentlemen." His hand was on the door knob. "See, ya."

"Front and center, Major Boyle," Sloan commanded. "On the double!" he shouted.

"Yes, Major Boyle," Derek added quietly. "Do come in.... It's so comforting to know that my chief of security keeps the Legacy's troubleshooter so well apprized of any potential investigations. I'm certain you two have a lot to discuss. Excuse me, William." Seeing an escape, the younger man slipped away and was out the open door before another word was said.

Sloan fixed his eagle-like stare on the former special forces major. "Johnny, what's going on here?"

< < + > >

San Francisco

Kym and Cassandra sat on a bench in Ghirardelli Square. Nearby a small crowd had collected at the Mermaid Fountain where a mime tried to find the invisible door in an invisible wall. At night the old, renovated chocolate factory took on the magical aspect of a fairyland. The white bulbs of the rooftop sign and clock tower glowed in the darkness. Bright strings, like diamond necklaces, stretched from building to building and decorated the foliage. On pleasant nights like this, when offshore breezes pushed the cold fog out to sea, the whole waterfront would stay lively well into the evening. Young couples strolled hand in hand. Tourists lingered. Parents brought the children to see the jugglers, the puppet show and street musicians.

Cassie's weekend visit was almost over. In the morning she would catch her ten a.m. flight back home to New York. The sisters had spent the warm afternoon shopping, then had taken in a movie, and now were wandering shop by shop toward the Hyde Street Pier, where Kym had moored the Luna Foundation's motor launch.

They munched their pizza in silence, simply being in each other's company for these last few minutes.

"What's wrong, sis?" asked Cassie, turning sideways on the bench to face her sister. "You've been down all weekend. You barely laughed at Tootsie... and it was a very funny movie. I never thought Dustin Hoffman could play a woman so well. I mean, he actually has good legs and doesn't wobble in heels, unlike some people I know," she added, hoping for a giggle from her baby sister as she tickled her in the ribs.

"Nothing's wrong," Kym sighed. "I just miss everyone. I miss the Village and Soho and the kids with their sailboats in Central Park." She paused to take a sip of her lemonade to cool down an especially spicy piece of pepperoni. "I'm just tired."

"I know you better than that," Cassie protested. "You get cranky when you're tired... not quiet. Quiet is worried."

"I'm cranky! OK?"

"If you're cranky, how come you haven't said more than three sentences in the last two hours? That's quiet in my book."

The younger woman sighed again, "I wish you didn't know me so well."

"Be glad I do." Cassandra persisted, "What's wrong, Kymmie. Is the honeymoon over? Surely you had your first fight a long time ago."

Avoiding her sister's eyes, Kym intently examined the pizza that sat on the bench between them, seeming to take special care in selecting her next piece.

Cassie waited for the red head to raise. Finally, more for shock value than anything else, she asked suddenly, "Are you pregnant? I thought you wanted children... or is that you're not pregnant? Doesn't he want kids?"

"No, no.... I'm not pregnant," Kym replied in exasperation.

"He's not... is he?" her sister asked quietly.

"He's not what?" Kym asked in confusion.

"You know," said Cassandra. "He can have kids, can't he? I mean, it would be such a shame if a stud like Derek couldn't."

Kym blushed. "I don't think there's any problem with that. It's not about kids."

"Then what?" asked her sister, whose patience was wearing thin. She knew Kym better than she knew herself, and something was definitely preoccupying that moody little brain. "I know you've taken on a lot with school, the foundation...hell, just being a wife... but, like that juggler we saw, you've always been able to keep all your balls in the air... pardon the pun. Tell me, sis. Listen to your older and wiser sibling, talking will help sort it all out.... I promise."

The silence stretched. Cassie waited. She knew from long experience that Kym was on the verge of opening up. It was just a matter of giving her time... allowing the emotional cauldron to boil over. She finished her pizza and started on her obligatory chocolate bar. You couldn't come to Ghirardelli Square and not have a chocolate bar. She'd eat plain salads all next week.

At last, "Cass... I'm so scared," said Kym as the tears began to flow.

"Scared?" asked her sister. Cassie hadn't expected this. She had anticipated home sickness, a fight, a let-down at the true acceptance of what marriage meant. "Whatever of?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to lose Derek," Kym said. She hung her head to wipe the tears away.

"What?" Cassandra said in shock. Her own personal relationships, never entirely successful, dropped an immediate and very obvious conclusion in her lap. "No... honey... he loves you." She searched through her purse for a tissue, which she handed over. "I'm sure there's no one else. Derek wouldn't hurt you like that."

"No. You don't understand," Kym protested. "I'm afraid for Derek... and, for me."

"Why, honey?" The older woman set the empty pizza box aside and pulled her sister into the crook of her arm. A passing, middle aged couple, probably from deep in the Bible Belt gave the two women an odd look. Cassie overheard the woman whisper, "Honestly... Harold... even in public...."

Kymberlee sniffled and dabbled her eyes with the tissue. "He isn't afraid of anything."

Cassie was at a loss. "But... isn't that good?" She paused trying to follow her sister's line of thought. "He must be afraid of something. I mean... I'll bet he gets scared when you're late and don't call."

Suddenly, Kym burst out in desperation, "Cass... he doesn't know the meaning of the word 'danger'!"

"Honey... Kymmie...," Cassandra said soothingly. "I don't understand."

By now the tissue lay in a shredded heap in Kymberlee's lap, along with the paper napkins imprinted with "Hank's Famous San Francisco Pizza Palace." Growing more distraught, she accepted the wad of tissues that her sister pressed into her hands. "I just keep thinking about the way Bernardo died," she explained. "All that blood all over the ground. What that 'thing' had done to my beautiful Nardo. You know," she chuckled mirthlessly, "even now, I can't use red nail polish.... It all scares me so much."

"Honey...," said Cassie, squeezing her sister tightly, "what happened to Nardo...."

"...and I'm not sure I can handle this," Kym continued after a sob. "Derek's a Snake... and Madame Liu said a Snake born at night during a winter storm would be in danger his whole life. I checked... Derek was."

"Kymmie... I don't understand."

Kym sobbed again. "Derek is a Snake in Chinese astrology... and he's so reckless."

"Reckless? He never seemed reckless to me," her sister commented. "Maybe a little eager and arrogant... I mean, self-confident."

"No, he's reckless. He flirts with danger... with death," Kym asserted. "He's not like Daddy... or Ray. He acts without thinking," she sobbed.

Cassandra stroked her sister's soft, red hair and tried to use her most motherly, most logical tone. "Kymmie... he's instinctive. His 'gift' isn't like what runs in our family... even the Legacy doesn't quite understand it... and Papa says that's why he tends to keep things to himself. Derek grew up being different. I think you have to trust him. He wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"No... not intentionally." Kym's mind flicked back to Derek's words on the night of her birthday. "But, he's going to get himself killed."

"Kym, dear... that could happen to any of us," her sister reasoned. "You know the Legacy isn't the safest job in the world. It probably ranks right up there with being a cop... just like our brothers." Cassie glanced at her watch. "Come on, sweetie, it's getting late. We'd better get you home before your husband does get scared." She picked up both their purses and her own small packages, and started to rise.

Kym touched her sister's arm. "I just get so frightened... sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and listen for his breathing. I find myself checking on him through the day."

"I know, honey. We all do that sometimes. Come on."

The late evening chill had settled in and the crowds had thinned. Kym zipped her jacket as they walked, then took her purse from her sister. She hung her head, almost ashamed. "Major Boyle doesn't like me. He doesn't approve of me."

"Why?" asked Cassie. Chilled, she pulled her new tartan scarf from its paper bag and wrapped it around her neck. "I'm sure he likes you... you've just stepped into the boy's club... that's all."

"No," sniffed Kym. "He said I was a liability."

"A liability?" Cassandra said. How dare anyone call her little sister a liability?

"He said I was too young and stupid to understand what the Legacy really is."

The older woman was appalled. "But, you grew up in the Legacy. He knows that. He's just a mini-führer who didn't like the setup at Angel Island screwed with. Why should you care what he thinks, anyway? You've never had much use for the Legacy."

"He threatened to tell Derek about the Wicca coven.... He said my love was unnatural and would make me a widow... if...," Kym stopped as she began to weep uncontrollably. She sank into the doorway of a small antique shop. "Oh, God!" she cried. "I love Derek so much.... I feel like he's half my soul... and when I'm away from him, even for class, I'm afraid I'll get home and he'll be gone.... When we make love... I just want to crawl inside of him and become a part of him...."

Cassandra had been ambushed by the intensity of her little sister's outburst. "I've never heard you talk this way about anyone," she said as she took Kym's hand.

"I've never loved anyone like this before," Kym whispered, wiping her nose with a tissue. "I... I loved Bernardo... and when he died, I thought I'd die... but... it's not the same. I'm afraid that if Derek dies, I'll go on living.... Johnny, Major Boyle, said that my fear... my love... would kill Derek... that I almost did before."

"What?" Cassie asked. "Kymmie... what are you talking about? What happened? Spill it! I'm losing patience with playing twenty questions," she said firmly.

"Remember... when I told you about the spirit possession in San Juan Bautista... that Derek had ended up in the hospital overnight?" asked Kym, regaining control. "Johnny said that it was my fault because I got scared and tried to help him. He said that Derek tried to protect me and let his guard down... gave himself to those things on purpose. They nearly killed him... and it's my fault because I'm so scared of losing him the way I lost Nardo. Daddy and Ray never acted this way. I'm never sure what Derek's going to do next. He's so secretive... does such foolhardy things... and uses his abilities in ways others can't or won't. I've never seen this before," Kym rambled. "Derek doesn't think! Remember how Daddy used to go over every possibility... how he taught our brother to do the same? Not Derek! He jumps right in."

Confused and at a loss, Cassandra could do nothing but hold her sister. She glanced up to see Mr. and Mrs. Bible Belt watching them from across the street. She smiled and waved. They meandered away.

Kymberlee plunged on. "And he's so stupid about it... never considering the danger...," she sobbed, hyperventilating to get enough air to continue. "William and Johnny are no better. They encourage his madness."

"Kym... stop! I can't believe that," Cassie interrupted. She pushed her sister away so that she could see into her face. "William Sloan is a cautious man, and Major Boyle was a career soldier, not some devil-may-care cavalier."

"A career soldier who abuses his son under the pretext of teaching him survival skills," countered Kym. "Derek lied to me, too," she continued, "...about a case he and William had in Rome. I read their version in his Legacy journal... you know, he keeps two sets... one for the Legacy, and his own locked away... but I 'saw' the truth." Kym took another deep breath. "Derek was almost killed there... because of William's foolishness." She sat down on the steps and buried her head in her hands. "Oh, Cass... sometimes I'm tempted to walk out and not look back."

"I don't understand," said Cassandra for the umpteenth time. She sank down beside her sister on the cold, damp bricks. "What happened in Rome? I don't recall hearing anything about it."

"Derek was shot."

"How? When? I don't remember that."

"Almost six years ago, when William was precept in San Francisco and Derek was working on one of his Ph.D.s."

Cassie had to admit that her interest had been pricked. Frequently, the Legacy was a hothouse for gossip. Rumors could travel the grapevine faster that the telephone lines, or so it sometimes seemed. "Are you sure, honey? Daddy would have said something. Maybe they were just shot at," she said, allowing disbelief to creep into her voice. She was certain that if Derek Rayne had been shot... even then... that word would have traveled from Rome to New York, Tokyo, Beijing, and points beyond at light speed.

"Yes," Kym insisted. "He and William went to Rome... to the catacombs to search for some bones... and Derek was shot trying to protect William. There's a scar... I found it.

"Cass, you can't tell Daddy about this. The Legacy doesn't know. Derek wasn't even supposed to be there. They both lied... William taught Derek well," Kym added, in a slightly vicious tone that surprised her sister.

"Honey, if the Legacy didn't know, then Derek couldn't have been that badly hurt. Now could he?"

"I asked him, sis," said Kym. "At first he tried to stonewall me, then deny it... finally he admitted it, but got mad and said I was immature and had a chip on my shoulder."

"Kymmie... people blurt out things they don't mean all the time... it's the emotions of the moment... the heat of battle."

"But, Derek is my life," said Kym, her voice again becoming hoarse with tears. "My love is my life... but... his life is the Legacy."

"Oh... baby sister," murmured Cassandra, "you are so very young, but I love you for it. Derek is a man. Men are like that. No matter how liberated the woman... our life centers around them, and their life centers around their work. It's been that way since the beginning of time."

"But that's not how it should be."

Cassandra was old enough, experienced enough, to be cynical about the male of every species, and about life itself. "Kymmie," she said, "unfortunately, it's the way the world works... and the way the Legacy works. You were born into the Legacy... it expected you to understand the rules. You've got a handsome, very rich husband, who cares for you... wants you to fulfill your own potentials... wants your children... and, whom I'm sure will make a good father. It's all you should really ask for.

"Now... come on. Do you want me to come back to the island with you tonight? I could catch a later flight."

Kym shook her head no. She let Cassie pull her to her feet and the two headed down the pier, past San Francisco's collection of antique ferry boats, to where the foundation's launch was tethered.

As Kymberlee stepped down into the boat, Cassie said from the dock, "Hon... why don't you come to New York during your next break... alone. Isabel, you, and I can go up to the cabin and vegetate for a few days... like one long slumber party."

"I'll think about it," said Kym as she started the engine. "Love you." She waved.

Cassie watched as the launch, the Crescent Moon, pulled away from the dock and into the darkness of the bay. Beyond she could see the lights of the mansion on Angel Island and the red beacon atop its tower's flagpole. Though Cassandra Gardner often confessed that she had lost out on her family's psychic genes, a shiver ran down her spine.

< < + > >

Angel Island

"Level with me, Johnny," said Sloan. "What's this all about?"

"I really don't know," replied Boyle, leading the way over to the chairs near the great bay window. "Like I told you," he continued as both men settled into their seats, "he got a phone call a few days ago. Then he asked me to check into that plane crash that killed all those Soviet orphans around the holidays. He said to use unofficial, non-Legacy channels... whatever means necessary... don't involve Legacy researchers or interns." The major sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Other than that, he didn't say diddly-squat, as usual."

"Go on," the precept said. "What did you find?"

Johnny could see his mind whirring away, factoring in reports that had crossed his desk, news briefs, and whatever other tasty morsels of information might have been trapped in Mr. Sloan's far reaching spider's web.

He continued, matter-of-factly, "Derek was being so squirrely that I got curious.... I got him the info he wanted, but I also checked all the incoming calls for those few days. One was a very odd number... I had the guy who got me the info on the crash check on it. He tracked it to a company in Khartoum and from there to a hotel in a place called Al-Jawf. Ian said...."

"Ian Kincaid?" Sloan asked in a shocked tone. "You've involved that son-of-a-bitch?"

Johnny shrugged. "I'm not as particular as you are."

"Fine!... You deal with him," said Sloan, "but I don't want him anywhere near Derek.... Understood?"

The ex-major nodded and continued, "Anyway... he said that Al-Jawf is in an oasis in southeastern Libya."

"Al-Kufrah?"

"Yes.... How did you know?"

"Derek spilled a few beans," William replied with a half smile. It wasn't often that Derek gave away anything, unless he wanted to.

"Kincaid said that the place has become something of a military center that includes a terrorist training camp and a staging area for troops bound for Chad."

"So that's how Hassan ibn Aziz fits in," Sloan commented to himself.

"Who?"

"Hassan ibn Aziz," he repeated. "Derek knew him at Oxford... he's since become a terrorist sponsor and arms dealer of the first rank."

Johnny continued, "Kincaid discovered that our young precept has booked a flight for tomorrow night to Amsterdam, then a charter to Benghazi and points beyond."

Sloan remained seated for a moment, digesting the information. Then he pulled himself to his feet. Johnny saw him stiffen and take a deep breath... in preparation for round two, he knew. When the Legacy official started for the door to rejoin the battle, Boyle, too, rose. It was going to be a long night, he thought as he stepped to the window. It was nearly time for him to make his final security check. His eye caught a dart of movement on the lawn below. He'd know that tall running figure anywhere.

"Sloan!" he yelled. "He's bolting... I just saw Derek cut across the lawn. He's headed for the boats." The ex-soldier couldn't catch what Sloan said under his breath as the precept threw the door open and ran down the hall toward the back stairs.

"We'll take the inland path... it's shorter," William shouted over his shoulder. "You try to get ahead of him... and I'll cut down the hillside behind him."

"Be careful," said Johnny, passing Sloan on the terrace steps. "It's dark and that path is rough."

CHAPTER 17

E-mail: Dubricus

CONTENTS

E-mail: Selena

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