Chapter 27
Legacy Base Camp
"Good morning, Captain Hamdi," said Sloan, addressing the Egyptian pilot.
"I'm sorry we can't provide you with a speedy round trip back to Cairo."
"That's quite all right," replied Hamdi. A slight smile cruised beneath his salt
and pepper mustache. "According to Mr. Kincaid, you will make the delay well worth
my while. Major Boyle and I were just going over the check list... the machine has a
few idiosyncracies." He gave the metal skin an affectionate pat.
Wondering what the pilot's promised remunerations might include, the precept
smiled, then turned to Johnny. "May I speak with you, Major?"
As the Egyptian continued to inspect the aircraft, Boyle stepped off to the side
with Sloan. "What's on your mind?" he asked.
"I don't like this whole setup," said William. "Derek's exhausted... hell, we all
are, but he's got to walk in there and carry this thing off, besides trying to get a sense
of Tanit or whatever the phenomenon is. He's also got a case of nerves like I haven't
seen in him since he was seventeen and facing an oral exam by old Ballard, the demon
prof at All Souls. I know he's seen something... and whatever it is has shaken him up."
"Don't worry," said Johnny, placing his hand on Sloan's arm. "I'll get him back
in one piece."
"Make sure you get yourself back, too."
* * *
Though she was just going through the motions, Kym reached up to straighten
her husband's tie and to quickly brush off his lapels. Derek had chosen to carry out the
whole image of an international arms dealer dressed for fun, and money-making, in the
sun... white on white on white... from a white Panama hat to his white linen suit to
white suede loafers. On his right wrist he wore a top-of-the-line gold Rollex watch and
marble-sized diamonds on his cuffs. Under any other circumstances, Kym would have
been in tears with laughter, but she had already cried herself out.
"What do you think?" he asked, hoping she would smile, or show any sign of
life.
"You're wrinkled... but what else can you expect with linen," Kym answered
without a trace of emotion or enthusiasm. "Derek... please don't go."
Ignoring his wife, the young precept picked up the briefcase and laid it on his
bed. He popped open the clasps, then tossed the folders in and snapped it shut. Closing
his eyes, his fingers sought the hidden compartment that contained the gun. Then his
thumb slid to the button release for the grenade and the lever that would eject the
smoke bomb.
Derek reached for his hat, grasped the handle of the attache case, took a deep
breath, and strode from the tent. Following him into the dust kicked up by the
helicopter, Kym walked slowly, like the condemned going to her own execution. In a
way, it was true. If Derek died, then there was no life for her... and Kym was almost
positive that she wasn't going to see her husband again.
"Derek!" Sloan shouted over the roar of the spinning rotors. "Is this what you
call dressing for success?" he asked as he intercepted his friend. "I hadn't realized you
were carrying the play-acting this far... or this declassee," he added in a tone that
reeked of both academic and aristocratic snobbishness, an affectation he had perfected.
Derek shrugged. "Clothes make the man," he said, still walking. "Think it
works? Personally, I was going for tacky... or is it too declassee for you to use a word
such as 'tacky'?"
"I think you've seen Casablanca one too many times. I'm more concerned
about the briefcase working than the clothes.... You're sure you can work the
mechanisms?" he asked, trying to cover his worry in a businesslike tone.
"Yes, of course, I'm sure," the younger man replied. "...and the gun's loaded
with the safety off."
"Can you do it in the dark... if you have to?" William knew he was babbling
about things he had seen his friend practice over and over. He glanced at Kym and
could see in her puffy face and red eyes that it had not been an easy morning. The
precept also noted a flash in her eyes when Derek mentioned the safety being off.
Please, God, don't let there be a scene. None of them were up to it.
"Yes," Derek insisted, "but with luck I won't have to do anything but try to sell
a bunch of non-existent guns and rockets."
"Wait... wait," Kym interrupted. She grasped her husband's arm and blocked
his way. "Why is the safety off?" she questioned as an image of Derek dying by his
own hand flitted through her mind.
"Just in case, dear. I might need it quickly," he replied.
"But it could go off," she said.
"Honey, I'm not going to shoot myself.... It won't go off accidentally," he
assured her.
Derek could see the anxiety in her blood-shot eyes... no one had ever cared for
him quite like this. It both exhilarated and frightened him... he, himself, had never
known such an intensity. He knew how to respond to William's worries, or Johnny's...
a joke or a sharp barb would cover the emotion that all knew was there...
unacknowledged and concealed. But Kym displayed her feelings so openly... and they
were such overpowering things... that Derek felt awkward and unsure of his
responses... like he was setting his foot on quicksand. He had to block them out
sometimes, but at other moments, he was, in a way, envious of her. Occasionally, he
wished he could display his emotions... wished that his parents had encouraged him
the way that he knew Bruce and Victoria Gardner had encouraged their children. But...
Derek Rayne was who he was.
"I love you Kymberlee Lynnette Gardner Rayne," he declared as he grasped her
hand and pulled her into an embrace. "Don't worry... it'll be just fine."
She wrapped her arms around his waist and locked her fingers in the fabric of
his jacket. There was no way she could ever hold him tightly enough. "Promise me
you're coming back," she said in a voice so taut that the words barely came out.
"Promise!" Kym cried.
"I promise," said Derek. He reached back and gently grasped his wife's hand
to disengage himself. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her ring with
gallantry worthy of another era. "I don't have the sword to swear by... but I do have
these... one that lay beside it and one that was born of it," he whispered.
"I love you, Derek," she said, "remember that... always and forever... no matter
what."
Quickly pulling away, Derek turned toward Sloan. "William," he said as he
removed his precept's ring, "hang onto this for me." He placed the heavy gold signet
in the senior precept's palm and folded his fingers around it. "Don't lose it... I'll want
it back," he laughed, then pulled a huge, garish, diamond studded ring from his pocket
and slipped it on to replace the Legacy emblem.
Sloan looked at the ring lying in his hand. He should have thought of this, and
of the wardrobe... he'd fallen down on the job. Suddenly, the reality, the seriousness,
of the situation struck home with a deafening thunderclap. The moment had actually
arrived.
"A house precept's ring? Why would I want to take a step down in rank?" he
joked. "...or should I wear them as a matched pair? Earrings, perhaps? Bit much, don't
you think? Is that thing real?" he asked, pointing to the new ring.
"Of course... nothing but the best," chuckled Derek. "It is hideous, isn't it... but,
anything for the illusion."
"Derek!" shouted Johnny, though none could hear him over the whirring blades.
"Come on!"
"Derek!" cried Kym as he turned toward the chopper. She grabbed her
husband's sleeve and threw herself into his arms. Please, God, don't let this be the last
time I ever touch him!
The young precept hugged her tightly. "I love you, Kym," he whispered in her
ear as he bent to kiss her. "I'll be back soon." Kym's arms wrapped around him again
as she held his lips on hers. As they kissed, she could feel Derek's fear and anxiety
flood into her... and his exhaustion.
He held her closely. "I love you," Derek repeated with more emotion than he
had ever said anything in his entire life. It was true... he loved her so much... still... it
was time to go. Pulling away, he felt Kym tremble.
"Derek!" the major shouted again. "Come on! Dammit! I'm burning gas!"
"What's your mother's name?" William asked.
"Barbara."
"Christ, Derek! If you're not careful, I'll put this damned ring in the next box
of Cracker Jack
His friend gave a quick smile and reached for his wife's hand. He gave her a last quick peck on the cheek. "William, take care of her for me," he shouted over his shoulder as he ran to the waiting helicopter.
As the chopper lifted into the air, Johnny tilted its nose downward. Soon it had picked up speed and was gone, leaving the dust to settle in silence. Kym turned back toward camp. An emptiness seemed to exist where her soul had been. She looked back at Sloan, who stood staring down at the ring in his hand. Suddenly he seemed human... tired, old, and human.
< < + > >
Twisting Derek's ring around his little finger, William paced the length of the supply tent and back again. He glanced at his watch... they had been gone only twenty minutes. Again, he checked the dials on the radio. He'd done that three times already... they were still set on the proper frequency. He quickly studied the map that lay spread out on the table beside the communications equipment.
"Where are they now?" asked Kym, leaning from her chair to look at the chart.
"About here," replied the precept, pointing, "about a third of the way... maybe another forty minutes. We'll hear when they request landing instructions... listen for 'Al-Taj Complex' or 'Kufra tower, Helicopter seven-three-two... inbound'."
Toying with the ring, Sloan resumed his pacing.
Kym couldn't stand the silence... she was so far beyond mere nervousness that she knew no amount of pacing or fidgeting would help. Suddenly, she realized that this was the first time she had ever truly been alone with William Sloan, a man she found as difficult to fathom as her husband. "William, how long have you and Derek known each other?"
Sloan halted and glanced over at her, as if he had forgotten she was there. "I'm sorry... I was his proctor at Balliol."
Kym sensed that the precept, in need of distraction, might just open up. "Did you know his father? What was he like?"
"Yes... Winston was a hard man. He expected his heir to follow in his footsteps, but I curse him for his dying gesture... placing this ring in the hand of a fifteen-year-old boy and telling him 'now the burden is yours'." William looked at the ring he held between his fingers, then continued, "...and Derek never hesitated... with his 'gifts' he's always known what the stakes were and who the enemy was... more than anyone I've ever known. We don't always see eye to eye on methods, but...."
"...but the job gets done?" Kym hinted. They both needed the distraction. "You're quite close? I know he respects you."
Sloan laughed... it was a rare sound. "Mostly it gets done. We have... shall we say... an unusual relationship." He paused to glance at his watch. "I suppose we do respect each other... in our own fashion." A faint smile flitted across his lips. "I know he's one of the few people who can surprise me... that's something I rather treasure."
Kym bristled at the arrogance of the man... that manipulative bastard!... but she retained a poker face and an even tone. "Derek would do almost anything for you... you know that?"
Sloan laughed again. "If and when it suits him, my dear," he replied. "You've heard the saying... marching to his own drum?... Well... your husband marches to his own band."
Wishing she believed it, Kym smiled. "Do you know anything about the scar under his left arm?" she asked abruptly.
Sloan hesitated and gave the young woman a sharp glance. "I vaguely recall there being one," he slowly replied. "Didn't you ask him?"
"He said something about Rome... and the catacombs."
"Rome?" Sloan wondered how much Kym really knew and how much this was a fishing expedition. Nonchalantly, he continued, "Lovely city... it's been a while since I've been there. Did he say when?" He removed his glasses to wipe them with his handkerchief.
Kym knew the truth, but she wanted to hear it aloud, from someone's lips. She marveled that it hadn't even been two weeks since she had had the same discussion with Derek, a discussion that had descended into the worst fight of their marriage. She could still hear that brutal 'grow up,' still taste her tears, and still hear her husband hammering the piano.
"May of seventy-seven... you two... Rome... a run-in with a witches' coven. Ring a bell?" she asked facetiously. When she saw William swallow hard, she knew she was about to have her truth spoken.
"The Rome House asked for assistance in a search of the catacombs for the ossuary... the box containing the bones," he explained condescendingly, "of a child martyr... Aurelia Flavia... who was crucified with St. Peter."
"Yes... I recall Derek mentioning the name," Kym prompted. "...and that London House was not pleased."
The precept cleared his throat and glanced at his watch again. "He told you we don't speak of it?"
Kym nodded.
"The Ruling Council didn't want Derek in the field at the time... he was pursuing his doctorate... they were concerned because of the way Winston had died... and Alicia Summers had been killed the year before.... But Rome requested my help and I needed Derek's 'Sight' and anthropological training."
"I see," Kym said slowly, "...so the Ruling Council never knew that Derek got shot." There... she had dropped the bomb. "So... you endangered Derek's life?"
Sloan looked down at his friend's signet, which he twisted round and round his fingertip. Uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken, he resumed his pacing. He feared he couldn't leave the discussion lying there. With a sigh, he continued, "We didn't know about the coven... Dr. Vitali, Rome's precept, didn't tell us. I thought we were just another couple pairs of eyes going down there to search, then help authenticate. I should have suspected there was something more to it... but Derek was still shaken by Alicia's death and that Randolph blamed him.... He needed to get back on the horse."
Kym had never heard William Sloan say so much at one time. It surprised her and led her to believe that perhaps it had bothered him all these years... that he needed to get it off his chest. As far as she was concerned, he could get it off his chest, but it wouldn't let him off the hook.
"You couldn't stand the idea of Derek not being in the Legacy, could you?" she asked bluntly.
"I couldn't stand the idea of him burying himself in books... even then... he was so good in the field. It's as much a gift as the 'Sight'," he explained. "Besides, I needed him with me. We wouldn't have found Aurelia without his 'Sight'... she wasn't where everyone thought she was."
"You mean, you wouldn't have found her alone," said Kym, her voice ringing with accusation. "So... you disobeyed the Council and risked Derek."
"We didn't know there was a risk," he reiterated, explaining the circumstances more to himself than anyone else. He raised his head to look at Kym, whose green eyes glared at him, and gave a humorless chuckle. "It's all risk, isn't it?"
Although Kym's vision had left her with the impression that her husband's wound had nearly been fatal, she was uncertain... the vision had ended too soon. She needed to hear it... but feared to hear it. Quietly, she asked, "How badly was he hurt, William?"
"Derek saved my life." Sloan hesitated, then took a deep breath... he had kept this secret guilt tucked away for far too many years. "He almost bled to death. We were lucky he was hit by a spent ricochet... it didn't touch the artery... if it had, he would have died... but it nicked a major vein. I couldn't get the bleeding stopped... he went into shock... I carried him two miles before we got to an exit.... God!" He paused to rub the back of his neck, then let out a long sigh before continuing. "I thought I'd lost him... all I could think of was, How do I tell Barbara? Our blood types are the same... I gave him as much blood as I could." He looked down at the gold and blue ring and realized that he was clutching it as if it was a living, breathing part of his friend.
Suddenly, the radio cut in... both jumped. "Unidentified aircraft... this is Kufra tower... please identify... you have entered Libyan airspace... identify... or you will be shot down."
William stepped over to the set and adjusted the tuner to clear up the static. They heard Johnny's voice. "Kufra tower. This is Helicopter seven-three-two bound for Al-Taj Complex... twenty-five kilometers north-north-east... inbound... ETA fifteen minutes. Request instructions."
"Here we go," said Sloan.
| CHAPTER 28 |
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