Chapter 38
As-Sahra' al-Libiya'
William Sloan, the Legacy's troubleshooter, was in high form... the best
mood he'd been in for weeks. He and Boyle and their Padwig friends had shot that
bit of trouble back to the hell from whence she had come... and it had been "as
easy as pie," as his mother used to say.
As they bounced along the rutted trail in the beginnings of the morning heat,
he chuckled to himself. He was going to rub Derek's nose in it... they hadn't
needed him or his "Sight"... Eliza Doolittle's line from My Fair Lady came to
mind, "Just you wait 'enry 'iggins... just you wait." It was the best thing he could
do... annoy the hell out of Derek... get him mad enough to forget what Kym, in her
arrogant stupidity, had said about Winston Rayne.
Time passed quickly as he plotted his antagonize Derek Rayne campaign.
* * *
At last... just as the furnace of midday was heating up in earnest, the two
Land Rovers rolled into camp. Captain Hamdi, working on the "Huey," waved as
they passed. Setting aside his tools, he wiped his hands on a rag as he slowly
followed them.
Sloan bounded out of the Rover almost before Safwad had braked it to a halt.
"Derek!" he yelled as he strode toward his friend's tent. "We did it!... and we
didn't need you or your damned 'Sight.' Poor old Tanit was pretty much a knock
over... a little acid on her altar... a little plastique.... Whamo!... no more goddess.
"Derek! Get your pants on! Put away that sack of love toys."
As he reached for the tent's flap, Kym pushed it aside. She looked like hell...
red, swollen eyes in a pasty white face. Behind him, the precept heard Major Boyle
call to him from the opposite side of the camp... "Sloan! The Jeep's gone."
"Where's Derek?" asked Kym with a tremble in her voice and fear in her
eyes. Dear God... why wasn't he with them?
"What?" William's heart dropped into his stomach.
"He went after you. Isn't he with you?" Kym whispered. She knew where
Derek was... in her heart... she knew. He was lying dead somewhere... just as she
had told him he would.
Sloan grasped the young woman's shoulders to give her a soft shake. She
seemed to be in a stupor. "He did what? When?" Panic was setting in as the
implications stormed his brain. "Kym... talk to me.... When did he leave?"
"A couple of hours after you," she replied calmly.
"My God! That's been three days," the precept muttered. Christ, Rayne,
what have you done now? Why couldn't I have caught you in bed like I'd planned?
"Johnny!" he yelled over his shoulder. "How could we have missed him?"
"He could have gotten off on a side track... been on the other side of a dune,"
the soldier said as he approached with a cautious eye fixed on Kym.
"Kym... did he have supplies?" asked William. "What kind of shape was he
in?"
"Terrible." Her voice began to quiver uncontrollably. "He shouldn't have
gone... I shouldn't have let him go.... There had to have been something more that I
could have done to make him stay."
"Jesus Christ!" the precept exclaimed. "Johnny... send Safwad and Daud
back with the Rovers. They know the trails better than we do. Tell them to be
careful, but if necessary to go on into Al-Jawf and contact Hassan ibn-Aziz. We'll
wait til the chopper's fixed. How much longer?"
"Omar says, tomorrow morning," the major answered. "Shit! I hope that
damned Jeep broke down... maybe he had another vision," he added hopefully, but
in his heart he knew it was a futile hope. "If he runs into what we left behind...."
Boyle's last words seeped into Kym's dazed mind. "Wait," she said. "What
did you leave behind?"
Sloan turned away and began to walk toward his own tent. His brain was in a
whirl. He needed to sit alone for a moment or two to let the situation and its
possibilities sink in. "Goddammit... Derek! What have you managed to get into this
time?" he mumbled to himself.
Kymberlee ran after him. She grabbed him by the elbow and jerked him
around to face her. "William," she demanded, "what did you leave back there?"
God as her witness, she'd beat it out of this man if he refused to tell her.
"A hornets' nest," he replied softly. "A goddamn, stirred up hornets' nest."
"...and Derek walked straight into it?" Kym asked in panicked disbelief.
"Knowing your husband, he probably drove into it a full speed," Sloan said
in a voice that sounded totally devoid of emotion. "Son-of-a-bitch!" he blurted out
as he abruptly turned away with the angry force of a caged tiger.
Kym's knees gave way... she dropped to the sand. "He's gone," she
whispered. "William... I know it... he's dead... Derek's dead... I saw it," she cried.
Suddenly, the precept turned back. He grasped the woman's arm and yanked
her to her feet. "Kym," he said, "hysteria won't help. Come on... I've got to get you
on that radio... we've got to hear what they're saying."
Kym struggled to twist her wrist from his grip. "Why?" she screamed. "He's
dead! I know it!"
"I need your Arabic," said William with cold firmness. "You know nothing."
He began to pull her toward the supply tent.
"I do... you'd believe it if it was Derek telling you... but I found them...
didn't I? You trusted me then," Kym wept as she resisted. "I saw Derek dead... you
were holding him!"
Sloan froze in place. Slowly he turned back to face Derek's distraught wife.
"I was with him?" he said quietly. "Kym... listen to me... I'm here. Look at me!"
the precept commanded.
< < + > >
Cave of Whispers
A contented murmur swirled through the empty darkness. The fires were
out... the altar was a scorched heap... the golden presence gone.
"Dearest Tanit... you were weak, but you served your purpose oh so well....
He is mine now... to char and demolish as they have done to your altar.... Soon I
shall send their champion back to them... a ruination of body and soul. Never
will he fulfill his destiny." A laugh rolled like thunder across the black waters.
"...and while he lives there can be no other."
"The Legacy will be mine... as the Legatus became mine."
< < + > >
Legacy Camp
Sloan paced back and forth across the tent... five steps one way, five steps
back... just the same as before. The heat was stifling... sweat poured down his back.
"Kym...," he said as he reached back to pull his shirt away from his skin, "talk to
me. I want a running translation of what they're saying."
"Shhh... I'm not that fluent, William.... I can't translate aloud and listen at
the same time," Kym retorted. "It's mostly just chatter... commercial and military
planes... some gossip." She shivered... even in the nearly unbearable heat, she
couldn't stop shaking.
The precept resumed his pacing. God! He'd been a fool.... No, worse than a
fool... a blind idiot. Everything San Perdamo had said and implied was true... in
spades. It was his responsibility... he should have known Derek would change his
mind and follow. Hell! He was the world's leading expert on Derek Rayne... he
should have known. Goddammit! He should have known.
Suddenly, he saw Kym stiffen. "Kym?" he said hesitantly.
She waved him off. "Wait," she whispered, listening. "No... it's nothing,"
she sighed. "A request for a particular blood type... one of the trainees was shot
yesterday. They're joking... said the Commandant probably stuck a gun up his ass
and pulled the trigger... just to teach him which end the bullet comes from."
Again Sloan paced... counting the steps in his mind... one, two, three, four,
five and about face... so he wouldn't think. One, two, three... son-of-a-bitch! His
thoughts turned. Love toys... indeed!... I was so pleased with myself... so
vainglorious... a pompous, conceited ass. I was going to rub it in... just for the fun
of getting Derek Rayne's goat. He cursed himself at the memory of the perverse joy
he had experienced while plotting his absurd, childish game. A precept was
responsible for his team... his entire team... and he had been playing goddamned
games!
"Ohmigod!" murmured Kym. "Ohmigod!... Ohmigod!"
The precept turned to see the woman's face blanch. "What? Kym?" he said
as she began to tremble. "Kymberlee! What is it! Dammit!" he shouted as he
grasped her shoulder.
"It's...," she began breathlessly. "Ohmigod!... Derek... I'm so sorry... what I
said... I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it." Kym breathed. She spoke to her
husband as though he could hear her and would tell her that he forgave her for
those horrible parting words.
Panic threatened to overwhelm Sloan's control. "Kym! What did they just
say?"
"They said...." Kym began to hyperventilate. "...someone captured... shot....
Oh, no... Derek!"
Anger overlying terror surged through William Sloan's mind and soul. He
jerked Kym from her chair to shake her. "Kym!" he shouted in her face. "Dammit,
woman! What did they just say?"
Her mind failed to connect. "I have to find him!" In a daze, she pulled away
from the precept and rushed for the door.
William grabbed for her arm again, caught it and swung her around.
"Kymberlee Rayne!" he shouted. "Goddammit! Tell me what they said... you can't
help him out there... only here!" He smothered the urge to strike this child-woman.
"Now control that goddamn panic of yours. You're going to kill him with it... if you
haven't already."
Kym quieted, but she still wasn't hearing her husband's friend. Her mind
seemed outside her body. The precept shook her again. Reality returned. "They
said," she began with a sob, "that an American had been shot and captured.... They
were laughing about it."
Sloan relaxed his grip and led her back to the chair beside the radio. "Did
they say anything else at all.... We need to know more. If we have only that to go
on, we might as well stay here, because we'll all wind up dead," Gently, he pushed
her back down into her seat. "You've got to keep listening," he ordered as he
poured her a cup of water and placed it in her trembling hand. "Please," he begged,
"just listen."
< < + > >
Libyan Desert
Safwad, Ali, and Daud rested beside the Land Rovers, which shielded their
small fire from the wind. They had little to burn and so would have nothing more
than coffee. It had been slow going.
"Father," said Ali. "Should we not be checking all of the side trails?"
"No," Safwad replied. "Dr. Rayne is an intelligent man... no novice to the
desert. We do not have the time to check those tracks that he would not take."
"What if we don't find him?"
"We do as the major suggested," said Ali's father. "Contact this arms dealer,
ibn Aziz... then do what we can.... Is he not the man your brother has been
chauffeuring on occasion?"
"I knew this would come to a bad end," commented Daud. "Women always
bring trouble... I'm just sorry the trouble had to be visited upon Dr. Rayne. I liked
him."
"Yes," Safwad agreed, then added with a chuckle. "Our mother certainly
brought trouble when she gave us you." After a pause, the older man added
seriously, "We will pray, do what we can, collect our pay, then go home."
< < + > >
Legacy Camp
Sloan stood at the tent's door for a moment. The wind was kicking sand
through the darkness. He could see Johnny and Omar hard at work in the wind-shaken spotlight. Slowly the helicopter's tail rotor turned, windmill-like, in the
breeze.
"Sweet Jesus," he heard Kym whisper.
"What?" he instantly demanded. Harsh firmness filled his voice. He would
not let this woman lose control again. They couldn't afford it... Derek couldn't
afford it. "Translate it... as you hear it," he ordered with the crisp precision of a drill
sergeant.
"They sound like teenagers... gossiping... 'Hey, Abdul,'" Kym said tonelessly,
"'I heard some more about... the spy... they got up near the drilling site... he put up
a fight... shot Salim.... stabbed Maloof with his own knife....'" She paused to reach
for the cup of water, which she had to steady with both hands as she drank. She
listened carefully with dead emotions. "They think he might be an Israeli agent... or
British," she said over her shoulder, then continued the translation. "'No... Gamil
heard something about a Dutch archaeologist.'"
Sloan grasped Kym's shoulder to steady himself and her for what he was
certain was coming.
Kym continued her monotone translation. "'Bah! Imbicile... archaeologists
don't stab and shoot trained soldiers... unless they're Indiana Jones.'"
The laugh on both ends of the Arabic conversation needed no interpretation.
Kym took a deep breath and went on, "'That's odd. Wasn't there that Dutch arms
dealer a few days ago, when there was all that trouble? Is Holland invading us?'"
They laughed again.
"'Anyway... Gamil said he tried to run... they shot him in the back and left
him to bleed to death in the sand... to rot in the sun like a dog.'"
A wave of nausea and faintness surged through Kym. She slipped, unnoticed
by the precept, from the chair onto the floor, where she curled into a ball and began
to quietly weep."
William's dike of self-control ruptured. He grasped the chair and threw it out
the door. "Why?" he screamed. "Goddammit! Why?... God... why?"
Seconds later Johnny burst into the tent. "What?... Sloan!... What?" he
demanded. Seeing the sobbing ball on the floor that was Kymberlee Rayne, he
dragged the woman to her feet. As Sloan often had, he just barely stifled the urge to
strike her. He would not let her fool around with this hysteria when Derek's life
was at stake. If, God willing, Derek was still alive, then they could deal with it....
They could do something.
"Kym... what did you hear?" Boyle shouted. "Christ, woman! That snot-nosed brat of mine is more use than you are."
Suddenly, anger drowned all other emotions, Kym reeled away from the
major's grasp. "Derek's dead... that's what!" she screamed. "Those bastards shot
him and let him bleed to death... and there's enough blame to go around... we've all
wallowed in the pigsty." In fury, she spun on Sloan and slapped him across the face
with all the strength and momentum she possessed. "You... damn you to hell... you
had to manipulate him even when he was sick... prick that goddamned, obstinate
sense of duty with that last letter to Patty.... If he'd stayed with me he'd be alive... I
begged him not to go.... I gave Derek something he never had before... something
he needed... reality! Not ghosts and demons and goddesses... but a chance at a real
life... with a real family... and real happiness... but he chose you... and he's dead!"
Having regained his composure, Sloan replied quietly, "He chose the
Legacy... and his own honor... I warned you not to pit yourself against that.... You
just couldn't let go," he continued. "You couldn't let Derek be Derek... could you?
Your love... no... your fear did this. If he'd gone with us, he'd have been fine. We'd
have been there for each other... just like always. You tore him in half.... It was
either you or the Legacy... at the very time he needed to be whole.... You just
couldn't let go. You had to tear his soul in half... because of you he hesitated.... Oh,
God... he hesitated."
"Damn the Legacy to hell... damn all of you," Kym screamed. "I've already
damned myself," she murmured. "My last words to him were to tell him to rot in
hell... that I hoped he suffered like he'd made me suffer... that I hope he'd die and
rot in hell."
"You told him that?" William's voice had the tenor of a steel pick penetrating
a block of ice. His hands trembled as he fought to control the red rage that swept
before his eyes. "Johnny... get her away from me... before I...." He couldn't finish.
It took every iota of his being to find the control and the strength to force his legs to
move. He walked, like an automaton, into the dark, windblown night.
< < + > >
For any who could sense it, a malignancy swept across the desert. William
Sloan, lying in desolate exhaustion upon his cot, felt his hairs prickle at the touch of
something. He raised his head... Derek?... nothing.
"Come, precept... collect your wreckage... your living corpse." The voice
floated by him... unheard.
| CHAPTER 39 |
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