Title: Trail of the White Tiger

Author: Paula B.

Rating: R for mature themes.

Pairings: Let’s just leave it at ‘Hail, Hail, the gang’s all here.’

Category: Alternate Universe, Adventure, Romance

Disclaimers: Not mine.

Summary, spoilers: None really. I figure if TPTB can do this with Each of us Angels and Mutiny, why not me. I hope you enjoy.

Author’s Notes: As many of my readers know, I’m a freak for research. Well I like to give credit where it is due so my thanks to the following dears who supplied so much help in this story: Bad Element, Laurel (as always and a special nod to Marty), cj, Edward B. and Lin.

Suggestion: If you would like a soundtrack while reading this, might I suggest, "The Great American Songbook" by Rod Stewart.

New York City

La Guardia Airport

February 3, 1938

Sarah MacKenzie stared out the tiny window. What the hell was she doing? She’d never been on an airplane before. In all her years as a crime reporter for The Sun, she’d found all the stories she ever needed right in her own backyard. In fact, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t strayed too far from the tenements where she’d been born, twenty-eight years ago. Maybe she was just too provincial for him. Maybe that’s why he left her. She couldn’t think about that now. He was hurt. She knew it. She even imagined that she could see him hiding in the jungle surrounded by men looking for him. That had to be the reason why they’d received no more telegrams after Bora Bora. He was hurt, and he needed her. She would brave the unknown for him.

The propellers started to cough to life, and she felt a soft hand patting her arm. "I’m fine, Meredith." Finally, she turned away from the snowy airfield outside her window to face the woman who’d made this possible. "Thank you."

Her companion waved away her thanks. "I know it’s scary. But it’s kind of exciting!" Meredith grinned like a sixteen-year-old going out on her first date.

Sarah just shook her head in amazement. She wasn’t quite sure of the age of Meredith Lindsay. Darn, she had to remember Meredith had taken back her maiden name, Cavanaugh. She was at least forty, maybe older. "I guess you’ve flown plenty of times."

"Me? Only once – after I knew what I had to do. I was so anxious to get my divorce that I flew out to Reno, but other than that? No. I always took the train." Her eyes grew sad. "When Teddy and I went to Europe on our honeymoon, we took the Normandie."

"Harm took me to a party on her a couple of years ago. It’s a beautiful cruise ship."

The smiling mouth twisted to a grimace. "Yes. Nothing was too good for Teddy, especially when my money bought it." She turned away from Sarah, the frantic enthusiasm she’d shown throwing this entire rescue mission together, finally bottoming out.

Sarah gripped the seat arms as they began to move down the runway. She didn’t think she liked planes one little bit. She wondered if anyone would ever find Amelia Earhart - unheard from for nearly eight months now. Funny, that was the story that had pulled Harm from New York. She could still see him standing in the editor-in-chief’s office, explaining his rationale for going, for leaving her. "Ed, it’s a great story, and I can swing by China and check out what the Japs are doing over there!" She’d been stunned; but then she’d been hurt.

"I could go with him, Mr. Sheffield." She made the offer with sound reasoning. "After all, I speak a little Chinese." She never thought about her gift of picking up languages. Perhaps it was because the neighborhood that she had grown up in had been a regular League of Nations , But she spoke a lot of Chinese, and Japanese, and any number of other languages, including German.

"Absolutely not!" Sheffield bellowed. "Don’t push your luck, MacKenzie. I took a chance on you writing that story covering the Lindberg trial. You’re a good crime reporter, Sarah, but I’m not spending the money on sending a girl to China!" Edward Sheffield had been adamant, and Harm had agreed with him.

Harm hadn’t spent much time in New Guinea, wiring back essentially the same tragic story that appeared in every newspaper "No sign of famous Aviatrix". No, he’d left the rest of the reporters and hurried to China. He sent dispatches detailing the attack that was coined the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, and his account of the brutality of the Japanese against the Chinese villagers was gut wrenching. She had to admit it, Harmon Rabb did have a knack for the foreign desk.

Finally, he’d sent word. ‘Home by Christmas.’ She traced his path back to her by the red dots on the map in her office. Each dot represented a spot where he’d sent them a telegram. It’d been a steady progress: Singapore, Manila, Boreno, New Guinea, Wake Island, Hawaii. San Francisco should’ve been his next stop, but he never arrived. In fact, his last telegram, three weeks ago, had been from the tiny island of Bora Bora in French Polynesia.

"On trail of white tiger. Next cable New Britain." He was headed back to New Guinea! Thomas Cavanaugh, the owner and publisher had ranted about that! "If I want a God damned animal story, I’ll find me Frank Buck!"

Oh, Harm. How could you? Were you so bored with the prospect of coming home to me that you had to turn big game hunter? The stress of the last six months, the thrill of the last three days of preparation finally took its toll, and the surprisingly comfortable seat lulled her to sleep.

Meredith Cavanaugh smiled gently at her friend and thought, No, I should thank you. Meredith understood why Sarah MacKenzie was grateful. Had Meredith not stepped in and forced the issue, her father, the publisher of The Sun, would never have permitted Sarah to search out her errant friend. At least that’s what Meredith assumed Harmon Rabb and Sarah MacKenzie were; she didn’t think they were lovers. Oh, dear. I can’t believe I even thought that! I would never have thought that before my trip to Reno.

Her thirty day exile in the divorce capital of the country had opened her eyes to a lot of things. Things her staid New York society matron mother would probably have preferred her to never know. Things her now ex-husband, Theodore Lindsay, had never told her about. For twenty years she’d tried to be a good wife to Teddy. Evidently not good enough. She must’ve been terrible if he’d left her for that bitch, Loren Singer. Well, Teddy had paid in full. Rumor had it that Singer’s father, the publisher of The Herald, couldn’t stand the man and had refused to give him a job. And here she was, on American Airlines, on the first of many hops toward adventure, heretofore never imagined. NO! Thank you, Sarah.

Sixteen hours later, they stumbled off at the new airport in San Francisco. "Oh, my God, I don’t think I can go on." Sarah stretched and looked around her. "I don’t believe it. It’s beautiful and warmer than New York."

Meredith laughed. "Well, my dear, it’s going to get warmer still. Aren’t you glad we bought all those new clothes?"

Sarah blushed. Meredith hadn’t let her pay for a thing, saying that the paper would pick it up. Sarah was used to making her own way, she would’ve decked any man had he attempted to do what Meredith had so blithely taken care of. "I can’t believe I let you…"

Meredith held up her hand. "Not a word. We’re gathering information for the paper. It’s a good expenditure."

"We are spending the night, right? I want to stretch out on a real bed."

Meredith laughed. "Absolutely." A cab pulled right up in front of them. "Mark Hopkins, please."

"You got it, beautiful." The cabby grinned.

In twenty years, no cabbie, or any man, had called her beautiful. Meredith paused and looked at the man, thinking he had to be speaking to Sarah, who truly was very pretty. But, he winked right at her and she graced him with a winning smile.

"Mere!" Sarah looked aghast.

"What?" Meredith grinned. "What did you want me to do? Slap him?" She felt like the schoolgirl she’d never really been. She didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Her mother had insisted that she socialize with only the ‘right’ girls. From what Sarah had told her about her early years, Gladys Sheffield would definitely not approve of Sarah. Of course, Gladys Sheffield had taken to her bed when she discovered what her only daughter was planning.

"You shouldn’t encourage him." Sarah feebly insisted as the glow of satisfaction faded from Meredith’s face to be replaced by resigned embarrassment. Sarah felt terrible for putting that look on her friend’s face. "I’m sorry, I’m just tired."

Less than ten years old, the Mark Hopkins still looked shiny new. It rose over the San Francisco Bay and the bridge that spanned it. The fog was rolling in, and much of the bay was obscured from their tenth floor window.

"You can’t see it now, but down there is where we’ll get the China Clipper." Meredith pointed off to the south, toward the marina. "At least that’s what the agent told me."

"I still can’t believe it takes off from the water; that we have to take a gangway out to it." Sarah sighed but her attention was drawn to a rocky speck rising from the mists. "Is that Alcatraz?"

"Yes, I believe so. I don’t know what else it could be."

"That’s why I should be here. I should be down there, begging the warden for interviews. Can you image it, Meredith? Al Capone! ‘Machine Gun’ Kelly! Henry Young! All of them, there on that horrid little rock."

Momentarily, the worry for Harm that had consumed her for nearly six months was replaced with a glowing zeal. Meredith almost gasped at the intensity in Sarah’s eyes. She saw the need to do a job right. Meredith couldn’t imagine such zeal, having only just recently become aware that she herself had needs that had nothing to do with being a good society wife. "Maybe when we get back…"

"Yeah, maybe. Look, how about we freshen up, and then grab a bite before turning in early? Have you ever been to San Francisco before?" Sarah walked to the bathroom.

"Never, I’d love to just walk around, maybe find a nice restaurant somewhere."

"Sounds like a great idea!"

Unfortunately, Mother Nature conspired against them. "Wow! Would you look at that rain come down!?" Sarah glared out from under the protection of the awning covering the sidewalk directly in front of the hotel.

"Well, I guess we’ll have to sightsee from the restaurant." They wore the pretty but casual suits that they’d wear on the plane tomorrow. Both of them felt out of place when they arrived at the Top of the Mark. The maître ‘d, however, didn’t seem to notice as he led them to a window table.

"Oh my, even in the rain and the fog, it’s so beautiful," Sarah breathed. "Look how the top of the bridge sticks out of the fog." However whimsical the remark had been, Sarah had rather expected some kind of reply. Meredith’s silence drew her attention. "What?" She turned to look at the man who’d grabbed her friend’s attention. "Who’s that?"

"I’m not sure." Meredith gazed at the man sitting three tables away. He was dressed in a white suit, terribly inappropriate for this time of year; a straw Panama hat rested at the empty place on the table. "I swear I recognize him."

As if he felt their gaze upon him, the man looked up and scowled.

"Oh, dear."

"You know him?"

"Yesss. Obsequious little brat; he’s the son of Porter and Neville Webb."

"I don’t think I know the name."

"You wouldn’t. Neville and Porter don’t socialize much outside of White Plains. I’m not really sure what Neville does – if anything. Raises orchids as a hobby. She does ‘good works.’ That’s how I met them. They did a charity ball three years ago. EVERYONE was there!" she finished dramatically. Unfortunately, she hadn’t looked away, and Webb’s scowl grew to an intense glower. Finally, Meredith looked away. Sarah didn’t, so she saw the tiny smile of victory on the man’s face before he returned to his soup. She felt an instant dislike for him.

"So what’s the story with him? What did he do?"

"Do? Absolutely nothing. He lounged. I think he has some kind of cushy job with the State Department. I can’t imagine what he does there. Frankly, except for one argument with Charles Lindberg…"

"He argued with Charles Lindberg!?" Sarah looked back at Webb with renewed dislike. "About what!? I met Mrs. Lindberg, you know. The trial…" The trial of Bruno Hauptmann made Sarah MacKenzie’s mark in the rough and tumble of the male-dominated newspaper world. Her victory had been hard won, but it was one of the few things that made her truly proud. She’d accomplished it all on her own.

"I remember. Even Teddy was impressed with your work."

Sarah pulled her attention and animosity away from the man she decided was far too prissy for continued study. "You know, I never really liked your ex-husband."

Meredith shrugged but gave her a big grin. "Teddy wasn’t a likeable man, but he did know his sports." Theodore Lindsay was a definite name in the sports writing field in New York, and had risen to the role of Editor of the Sports Department, commanding six other reporters.

"Did he?" It was evident that Sarah disagreed with Meredith’s assessment.

"What?" Meredith leaned forward. She was still at the stage where she loved hearing bad things about her ex-husband. It validated her decision to divorce the man – over her mother’s objections and her father’s concerns for her future.

"Well, you know the story he did on the Lewis-Schmeling fight? He didn’t write that. He wasn’t even there."

Meredith’s face burned a bright red as she remembered how naïve she’d been. "No… I guess he wasn’t." That would’ve been about the time his affair with Loren Singer started. "Who did write it?"

"A great sports reporter who’s no longer with the paper."

"Mattoni?"

Sarah had liked Mattoni, appreciated the oddity of his name, understood why he’d felt so uncomfortable as the one and only Negro employee of the newspaper. Their friendship had been circumspect, at least on his part. But she remembered him fondly. "Yeah. He left to work for The Messenger."

"I know. Dad was hurt by his desertion. He really went out on a limb to hire Mr. Mattoni. I wish he’d have come to us and let us know what Teddy did." But both women knew it would’ve been futile at the time. Lindsay would have called the man a liar and Cavanaugh would have backed his son-in-law against a black reporter.

Sarah gazed out the window. The lights on top of the bridge were the only things illuminating the night. She knew why the lights were there, she just hoped that no planes would be foolish enough to fly on a night like tonight. As her focus returned to the reflections in the glass, she noticed that Webb was staring at her. However, by the time she jerked her head around to confront him, he was busy with his entrée. "Awful man!"

"Who? Teddy?"

"No, your Mr. Webb!"

"My Mr. Webb?" Meredith glanced back at the solitary diner and shrugged. "Frankly, I feel rather sorry for him. It must be hard, knowing that what you do is so unimportant."

They ate a delicious meal of Lobster Thermidor in companionable silence. Finally, over coffee, Sarah found the courage to say, "I meant it, Meredith. I couldn’t be here without your support. You know that your father was on the verge of firing me."

Meredith waved her hand. "He’s just not used to women standing up to him. Actually, you gave me the courage to do the same. I’ve wanted something ever since the divorce. I’m not sure what, but, if nothing else, I want to see more of the world. And I want to be there when you find Harmon Rabb. I want to sit back and listen as you read him the riot act."

They shared a gentle laugh. When they found Rabb, they’d both be too happy at finding him that he’d walk away unscathed from their anger – if he were uninjured; if he was still alive. Sarah closed her eyes in prayer, and Meredith looked away for a moment.

A shadow fell across the table, and Meredith jerked her head up. "Mr. Webb." Sarah opened her eyes in surprise.

"I thought it was you, Mrs. Lindsay."

"Miss Cavanaugh." She corrected him with a little more vigor than was necessary.

He raised an eyebrow, turned his attention to Sarah, and waited.

Meredith sighed. "Mr. Clayton Webb, may I present, Miss Sarah MacKenzie."

"Indeed." His response bordered on rude. "You’re the girl who did the story of the Lindberg kidnapping for The Sun."

"That’s right. I hear that you and Mr. Lindberg don’t get along."

His eyebrow rose even higher and he glanced at Meredith before continuing. "No, not really. But I hardly think there’s a story in that. Mr. Lindberg isn’t universally adored by the people who actually know him."

"He’s a hero. He’s done wonderful things and suffered horribly. What gives you the right to…" Sarah would’ve continued, but she noticed that several other diners were looking her way. She stopped and just glared at him. That brought a vicious little smile of triumph to his face. So, she hit him the only way left to her. "I’m intrigued by your choice of dinner attire, Mr. Webb. Surely the son of Porter Webb should know that No One wears white this time of year."

The smirk never left his face. "One does if one is leaving for Hawaii."

"You’re going to Hawaii?" Meredith gasped. "Whatever for?"

The smirk faded to a scowl. "It’s on the way to my new posting. Ladies." He abruptly turned and stalked out of the room.

"New posting? Oh my." Meredith hid her grin behind her napkin.

"I thought you said he was with the State Department. You think… a posting to… to where? Oh my, it must be very dreadful."

"Could very well be. Oh heavens. I wonder who he managed to upset?"

"No, I wouldn’t imagine that anything further than Hawaii would be a plum career move."

"Well, it is warm. And quite pretty, if you like palm trees, sand, and pineapple."

"Definitely not in the social mainstream," Sarah finished cattily.

However, Meredith paused and concerned. "You know, I’m not sure that makes any difference to him. He certainly never appears at any of the important functions. How very odd."

Sarah stifled a yawn. "Well, I don’t like him, and I refuse to think more about him. I’m ready to call it a night."

The next morning, the fog still hadn’t lifted by the time they finished their breakfast. "Will they still try to take off?" Sarah said, the worry evident in her voice.

"It will be fine. From what I understand, the fog is always heavy in the morning."

The cab dropped them off at the marina, and they checked in at the counter. "Ladies, welcome to Pan Am’s Clipper service to the Pacific. We’ll be boarding in just a few minutes." He looked behind them and continued, "I’ll be with you in a moment, sir."

"Well snap to it, man, I haven’t got all day."

Sarah turned. "Mr. Webb. So nice to see that your manners have improved since last night." At least he had the grace to blush at her onslaught.

"Miss MacKenzie, MISS Cavanaugh." He made sure to emphasize Meredith’s name. "You must be on an important story, if The Sun’s shelling out three thousand dollars for the airfare."

Meredith smiled sweetly. "At least it’s private funds, Mr. Webb. How terribly important your new posting must be, if the State Department is shelling out fifteen hundred of our tax dollars to send you – or is it just seven hundred and fifty dollars because it’s one way?"

Sarah fought back a laugh. She decided, then and there, she could learn quite a bit from her friend.

Clayton Webb’s face turned redder still. "Touché, Miss Cavanaugh. If you’ll excuse me, I really need to finalize my ticket." He practically pushed them out of the way. "Now, do you think you could sell me a ticket?" he gritted out to the abashed young man behind the counter. Sarah almost gasped aloud when she saw him pull out a roll of bills. She’d known many a petty criminal, trying to impress his cronies, to roll one or two twenties around as many singles. The glimpse she got showed that every bill in Clayton Webb’s roll was a genuine one hundred-dollar bill. She was just moving away when she heard him mutter, "One way."

It was her day to be impressed. The main salon of the cabin was larger than a Pullman car. Beautifully appointed with wall sconces, comfortable chairs, and plush carpeting. The steward led them to their chairs. "Ladies, we’ll be taking off as soon as the fog lifts, we should arrive in Honolulu approximately fifteen hours later. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance."

"Thank you." Meredith got comfortable, leaning back in her chair. "I’m sorry we couldn’t get a first class cabin, but…"

"Oh, Meredith, this is fine. I slept perfectly well last night."

Clayton Webb came on board shortly before the steward and co-pilot closed the hatch.

"Right there, Mr. Webb. Please fasten your seat belt."

Sarah waited for the snide comment, but with one brief look right at her, he said, "Thank you. I don’t suppose I can have a drink."

"As soon as we’re in the air, sir." He reached for the briefcase Webb clutched in his hand. "May I put that away for you?"

Webb snatched it back. "No. No, thank you. I have work I have to do."

"Curious," Sarah said to Meredith, who just shrugged and pulled a magazine from the large bag she was using.

Sarah found herself studying Webb. He appeared to be very tense. Perhaps he hated flying as much as she. But no, he wasn’t gripping the armrests. He opened the case and pulled out a bound report. He even crossed one leg over the other as the plane began to shake with the starting up of the engines. Only the scowl on his face, as he began to read, gave any indication of his emotions.

In an effort to keep her mind off her nervousness, Sarah watched the other passengers. There were only nine others, five men and one other woman. It was obvious that the woman was newly married to the youngest of the men. A pang wrenched her heart. She didn’t know why she and Harm had never moved past friendship. She kept hoping that one day he would wake up and see the love she had for him. However, she was beginning to recognize that he really didn’t see her in the same light as she saw him. And really, why would he? He was as far above her socially as either Meredith or the smug white suited man sitting across the plane from her. He once told her he was having far too much fun to settle down. "It’s not fair to the girl, Sarah."

"Don’t you want kids?"

"Kids? Hmmm. I don’t know. Maybe in five years. Yeah. Give me five more good years, and then we’ll see." And for a long time she’d clung to that hope. Five years. For five years she watched as he dated some of the most beautiful women in New York City. He wasn’t very particular, as long as they were young, blond and relatively rich – actresses and heiresses mostly. There was one, Renee Peterson, who he was even engaged to for all of a week. "Then I sobered up. Man, Sarah, some friend you are. I came really close that time." They’d shared a show, a meal, and a laugh. He’d even kissed her that night. Later, she stared in the mirror, trying to see if she’d somehow changed. The next day, he acted like nothing extraordinary had happened at all.

The funny thing was, Harm hated it when she dated other men; not that she did that often. She had come close once. She’d dated a very nice Broadway actor named Michael Brumby. But it failed when Mic received an offer to return home to England to star in a play on the West End. He’d begged her to come with him, but in the end, Harm had talked her out of it. "He’s no good for you, Sarah. What will you do over there?" She’d half-heartedly tried to get Sheffield to send her to England as a correspondent, but he emphatically told her no. Frankly, she was still amazed that she was on this plane right now, heading toward who knew where.

She shuddered at the vast expanse below her. Clouds danced across the vivid blue of the sea.

"You know, you never told me why you were flying to Hawaii."

She took a deep breath and looked up to find Clayton Webb standing before her, drink in one hand, brief case in the other. How long had she been daydreaming? Glancing over at Meredith, she was surprised to see a sleep mask hiding most of Meredith’s face. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, trying to buy a little time to get her thoughts in order.

He snorted. "Didn’t seem that hard a question."

"I’m sure it wasn’t, if I’d been paying attention. However, since I didn’t know you were addressing me…"

"Truce!" He held up the briefcase as if to use it as a shield. Settling down in the empty seat across from her, he set the brief case between his legs. "Now, shall we start from scratch? Hello. Clayton Webb." He held out his hand to her. When she didn’t immediately respond, he sighed and pulled it back. "Look, I can be a real bore sometimes. Particularly when people start staring at me during dinner."

Well, she guessed that had been rather rude of them. But still. Another thought struck her. "What exactly is it that you do, Mr. Webb?"

"Why?"

"Why? Isn’t that a perfectly normal question for people just getting to know each other to ask?"

He sipped his drink then nodded his head slightly. "I suppose. I’m being assigned as the attaché to the consulate in New Guinea."

"Really."

"Drink, Miss?" The steward stopped before them.

"Just coffee, please."

"A drink will help your nerves," Webb suggested.

"My nerves are just fine," she snapped. She didn’t like drinking. Her father had been a mean drunk.

"Sorry. Sheesh. Hey, I told you what I did."

"Yes, you did. And, you know what I do."

"Yeah. You’re a crime reporter for a third rate newspaper. What’re you doing out…"

"That’s a second rate newspaper, Mr. Webb," Meredith said without removing her mask. "Now, if you’re done insulting my employee, could you go away and let me sleep?"

Sarah was surprised to see a grin flash across his face. It disappeared so quickly that she was sure she’d misread it entirely. However, he made no attempt to continue the conversation. He also didn’t make a move to leave, remaining in the seat across from her. He settled back and just watched her. She thought it a bullying tactic, and refused to be moved by it. Instead, she too leaned back to watch him. The last thing she remembered was thinking just how the light from the window picked up the golden flecks in his eyes.

She was falling, plunging to the earth. Even waking didn’t help. Someone screamed, and the crashing and breaking of glass added to the overall pandemonium. She struggled to stand, but it took her a moment to realize that she was strapped in – strapped into a plane plummeting to the earth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please." There was man speaking to them. She didn’t understand what was going on. "Remain calm. It was just a small air pocket. Nothing is the matter with the plane. Please. Remain calm."

"Sarah?" Meredith’s hand gripped hers. The newlyweds were embracing each other, the girl sobbing uncontrollably. Sarah glanced at the men who all looked tight lipped, and not a little upset. All looked like they’d been jerked awake. All but Clayton Webb. He was staring at her with such intensity that it took her aback, and gave her the strength to remain calm.

"I’m fine, Meredith. Go back to sleep."

"Not likely. Steward!"

"Yes ma’am?"

"Bring me a scotch!"

"Make it two." Webb said with a smile. "Coffee, Miss MacKenzie?"

"No. I’m fine. Any idea how far from land we are?"

Webb just shrugged but when the steward returned with their drinks he asked.

"Another four hours, sir."

"Oh, Lord. I can’t believe it," Sarah groaned.

Webb snorted. "Twenty years ago you’d have still been somewhere north of the Carolinas on a ship heading for the Panama Canal. It would be two months of sailing to get to Hawaii."

"Thank you, Lowell Thomas," she said dryly.

Meredith made a sound that, from a man, would’ve been called a snort. But Webb never took his eyes from Sarah. "So. You never told me, what you’ll be doing in Hawaii."

Something made her hesitate. She could feel the tension in Meredith grow a bit. She didn’t trust Webb; but if he was going to be attaché in New Guinea, she couldn’t afford to alienate him. "Well, actually, Meredith and I are… Well, if you must know, Meredith and I are tracking down a story that one of our other reporters told us about."

Webb sipped his drink but never took his eyes off of her. "Really. What story? And, why didn’t your other reporter take care of it?" He turned to look at Meredith. "Is daddy setting you up where you can’t make trouble?"

Meredith sipped her own drink. Fury shook her but she knew that she had to remain calm. However, before she could answer, Sarah spoke. "Not at all. Meredith and I are just interested in animals more than Mr. Rabb."

"Rabb? As in Harm’s Way Rabb? The guy who wrote that article about the Japanese invasion of China?"

"That’s right. He’s on his way back home but he wired us about a very interesting feature."

"What feature?" Webb snapped irritably.

"Why, Mr. Webb," Meredith smiled sweetly. "I guess you’ll have to read about it in the Sunday Section."

AJ’s

Selau, Bougainville

New Guinea

February 17, 1938 

AJ Chegwidden stared up into the incredible blue sky. It was beautiful here. There were times when he felt that, at long last, he’d found a measure of peace. Peace that had eluded him for twenty years.

He still sometimes woke up sweating from dreams about Somme and Ypes, and all the horrible battles in between. The dreams were full of mud and rain, and more mud again. There were nights when the sound of shelling still seamed so real – usually nights when the rain and thunder pounded his small haven, here on the northern tip of Bougainville. If there was a place so completely different from the battlefields of France during the last days of the Great War, it was here.

After the war, he’d returned home to his job as a professor at the small college in upstate New York, but the nightmares had been so bad, that he’d wake up his neighbors with his screaming. He couldn’t stand their stares, and he tendered his resignation. A stint as a merchantman, a brief failed marriage, a daughter back with her mother’s people in Italy, a chance meeting with a man wanting to get rid of a bar, and there was his life in a nutshell. A lonely existence at times, though he found himself responsible for a growing number of people.

"Hey, boss?"

AJ turned to find his manager, Sturgis Turner waiting. "What do you need?"

"Is Roberts bringing a new shipment from Port Moresby?"

"Should be." AJ turned and surveyed the small bar, and what passed as Selau’s only lodging. Of course, most of the men who frequented AJ’s seldom made it to the rooms, most just passed out, and Sturgis or Jason would toss them out to sleep it off on the beach. Unless it was raining. AJ never allowed anyone to be tossed out if it was raining. "He’s bringing at least two cases of the rot gut that Francois sells, and a couple of bottles of good brandy."

"Excellent. You know how the magistrate loves his brandy."

AJ smiled grimly. "He has a lot of vices."

Sturgis shrugged and returned to the bar. It was the middle of the day, and the few regulars were still out fishing or looking for gold or orchids. They would all come in later: the fishermen after selling their catch; the gold hunters would try and drown their disappointment; and, the orchid hunters would see if their finds were good enough for AJ to buy. Orchids were the island’s, and AJ’s, most lucrative business.

He often wondered how his boss found his way here. However, Sturgis would never pry. Out here, a man’s past was his past. He should know. He had a past of his own.

"Hey, Sturgis!" Jason Tiner came in from the back room. "I need more cases to ship these Laeliocattleya Amethystella!"

Sturgis rolled his eyes heavenward. "What?" He couldn’t understand why the boss had hired the kid in the first place. Six months ago the kid had waltzed in and announced that he was a botanist looking for a job. He’d made a good case to AJ, citing that certain species were more valuable than others, and that all species sold for more if they arrived at their destination in good shape. ‘Frankly, sir, I don’t know who’s been packing up your shipments, but half of them arrived in Los Angeles in very bad shape.’ And AJ had decided that if he was going to do it, he might as well do it right. Sturgis had to admit, the last letter they’d received from Mr. Hughes had been complimentary, instead of containing his usually scathing, remarks. But Sturgis was damned if he’d tell that to the snot-nosed kid.

Jason sighed. He really wanted to fit in here. He liked it here, liked Sturgis, and he looked up to AJ, the man who’d taken a chance on him. He still couldn’t believe he’d found the courage to come all the way out here and ask for a job. But he was so tired of Los Angeles and the way it was getting so crowded. "Cases, Sturgis. I need cases for the flowers."

"When I get a chance," Sturgis snapped.

Jason sighed again. He knew that Sturgis hated it when he sighed. Sure enough, Sturgis rolled his eyes. "Please."

"Jason!" He jumped at the gruff yell.

"Yes sir, Mr. Chegwidden?"

"For God’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you to call me AJ? Damn it, are those plants going to be ready for Roberts to fly back to Port Moresby?"

Jason looked at Sturgis expectantly.

"I’ll have the crates done by tomorrow, but someone’s going to have to watch the bar tonight."

"I can do that!" Jason said hopefully.

"NO!" AJ and Sturgis said in unison. They’d tried that once. AJ wasn’t sure what it was about his plant hunter. As good as the kid was at finding the finest specimens, he was equally bad with customers. AJ still groaned at the memory of the chaos and mess of the monumental bar brawl that had started between a French sailor and German gun salesman, all because of the off-hand remark the kid had made about a war he couldn’t even remember. "Thanks anyway, Jason, I’ll do it myself."

Jason grimaced and walked back to his little room, stocked with all manner of flowers, pots, and moss to pack them in.

"Go on Sturgis, start on those cases now." AJ didn’t bother to tell the man to make them sturdy. Sturgis did a good job with his hands. He just had no concept of how delicate the flowers were. Or if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

AJ was wiping down the bar, when he heard the low growl of the plane he’d won in a poker game. Since AJ didn’t fly, he made a deal with the young man. "Stay off the booze, and I’ll pay you to fly her for me." As with most things he became involved in, it had worked out well for everyone concerned, and he thought that one day, the feisty Mrs. Roberts might just forgive him for something he’d never done.

AJ was collecting a regular family of misfits. He looked around at the patrons, trying to remember who needed work the most. Finally he hailed, "Tom!"

Thomas Boone looked up from his one and only drink of the day. "Yeah, AJ?"

"You want to go down and help Bud unload?"

Tom Boone inwardly sighed in relief. He needed the money. He knew that AJ would pay him more than the job was really worth. There wasn’t much call for an over the hill pilot, who’d developed a sudden fear of flying. "Sure… if it’ll help you out. It’ll cost you a drink later."

"Uh-huh." AJ shook his head and turned away. A crash that had killed everyone but the pilot was not a reputation-enhancing situation. It also didn’t help that Boone had gone into a tailspin afterward, drinking almost continuously for a year. He was starting to come back, going so far as to limit himself to one drink a day.

Nearly an hour later, AJ was beginning to wonder if there had been trouble. Normally, you could walk from the dock to the bar in fifteen minutes.

Finally he heard a shocked female voice demand, "You’re sure this is the best place on the island?"

"Yes, ma’am," came Bud’s eager reply. "And you’ll be safe here."

"Meredith, I don’t care, as long as it has a bed. A flat bed. I don’t even care if the sheets are clean. But a bed!"

"I understand, Sarah, but really." The group walked up the steps, and stopped at the door. Two women, who looked much the worse for wear, were standing just behind Bud Roberts. Tom Boone, wearing a ridiculous grin, followed up the party.

"AJ!" Bud said excitedly. "This is Meredith Cavanaugh and Sarah MacKenzie! They came all the way from New York! The city!"

"For the atmosphere, no doubt." AJ glared at the two women. Both were attractive, he supposed. Though they both looked like they’d been ridden hard and put away wet, as his father used to say. He looked at the younger of the two. She was a dark-haired beauty. But he suspected she was trouble. The older woman, perhaps a little younger than his forty-eight years, just looked determined.

"The atmosphere is quite splendid. Or at least it will be, once we get some sleep," Meredith said with some asperity. But she finally focused on the man standing before her, and the bar, it’s scruffy patrons and it’s seedy atmosphere no longer mattered. She couldn’t imagine anyone, no matter how tired, overlooking him. His eyes held hers, and she thought he might be reading her soul. "Uhm… you do have a room for us?"

"Jason!" His bellow made nearly everyone in the bar jerk. Everyone but Meredith, who just quirked one eyebrow in surprise.

A young man hurried out of the back room. "Yes, sir!" His voice cracked, and he stared at the two women for a moment.

"Show the ladies the presidential suite," AJ said dryly.

"S-sir?"

"The room next to mine," AJ said, never taking his eyes off Meredith.

Meredith was too tired to argue. After Clayton Webb had missed the plane, she couldn’t remember whether it was in Bora Bora or Fiji, they had continued onto New Britain, only to discover that a man answering Rabb’s description had hired a boat. When pressed, the harbormaster admitted that the boat owner usually docked his boat in Port Moresby. That’s where they had dead-ended. She was sure it was because they were strangers, but no one admitted to seeing Rabb. Fortunately, they had found Captain Roberts. "Gee ma’am I don’t remember him. But, if anyone can find your friend, it’s AJ. He knows everybody. He knows every inch of jungle of New Guinea and the Solomons. If your friend set foot on any of the islands, he would’ve heard about it." Now, faced with the man, she thought she understood. He exuded a quiet, understated power.

The exhaustion of nearly two weeks of travel hit her like a fist to the stomach. "I’m sure that our host knows the best room for us. Please lead the way." She turned a weary smile to the man who’d been so helpful at the plane.

"Don’t you worry, Miss Cavanaugh, I’ll get your bags to your room." Tom Boone grinned at his friend over her shoulder. "I’ll sleep outside your door if you want me to protect you from this big galoot."

"And who would protect us from you, Mr. Boone?" Meredith looked at Jason. "Lead the way, young man. I’m afraid I shall fall asleep on my feet."

"Yes, please." Sarah managed weakly. She was beginning to think that New York was just a figment of her imagination. Whoever had insisted that this part of the world was paradise, hadn’t spent as much as 21 out of every 24 hours in planes that seemed to grow smaller and less reliable with each hop. They must also have liked temperatures that never seemed to dip below 90, and the humidity below 100. It was worse than the city in August. And she didn’t care that several of the pilots insisted that this was anomalous to the area.

She didn’t bother to check out the room. All she saw was the bed – with sheets on it! And a pillow! Heaven. She kicked off her shoes and fell on top of the mattress, never noticing the young man staring at her in open-mouthed adoration as he pulled the netting around her.

Back in the bar, AJ was glaring at Roberts. "Passengers?" he asked expectantly.

Bud nodded excitedly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out several bills. "Look! She paid me two hundred dollars! Just to fly her and Miss MacKenzie from Port Moresby. Two hundred dollars!"

AJ took the money, then have him back one hundred dollars. "Make sure Harriet gets that."

"Wow! Thanks, AJ." He started to turn away.

"Hold up there. Why are they here?"

"Oh. They’re looking for a friend of theirs. Another reporter."

"Another reporter. Those women are reporters?"

Bud shrugged, but before he could continue they heard, "Buddy?"

Both turned their attention to the pretty, but austere, blond standing in the door. Bud’s face split into a wide grin. "Hi, sweetie! Look! A hundred bucks! AJ split the passenger fee with me. I think you should have it for the school. AJ does, too. Don’t you, AJ?"

On the entire island, only one person could make AJ Chegwidden cower. Well, not cower so much as it was… no, cower pretty much described the way he reacted to Harriet Roberts. He didn’t like it, but he was damned if he could figure out how to change her opinion of him. He rued the day he’d won the plane. And yet, he knew that Bud would’ve lost it to someone else eventually.

Harriet looked coolly at the man who’d taken control of her husband’s life. She had accepted that Bud was basically weak and needed something stronger than himself to survive. She hoped that he’d find that strength where she found hers – in God. She understood what AJ had done for Bud. Had AJ not taken responsibility for the plane Bud bought with his inheritance, and blithely lost in a card game two months later, they probably would’ve lost their small house near the mission school. Sometimes knowing that hurt. Someday she’d find a way to forgive the bar owner for making her feel so beholden.

"That’s very nice, Buddy. Are you ready to go home now?"

Bud sighed. He would’ve liked to stay at the bar and just talk to AJ and the other men. But he knew that he’d lost that right for a while. He hadn’t had a drink since the night he had lost the Goose to AJ. It was the best thing he’d ever done. But now, he had to prove that he could be a good provider for Harriet. "Okay, sweetie."

American Consulate

Port Moresby, New Guinea

February 17, 1938 

Clayton Webb rubbed his eyes, which only served to irritate them further. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Certainly not in the back of that flying coffin that he had paid an exorbitant price to rent after missing the seaplane in Fiji. But the magistrate there remembered seeing Meg. Webb wondered who it was she had found to help her. The magistrate had described him as very tall, very handsome with very blue eyes. However, neither Meg, nor her companion had sought out the magistrate for information. "I only remember because they looked so how do you say, determined. But, when I asked if I could aid them in anyway, they both said no." How she had ended up in a hospital in Port Moresby, near death was still a mystery.

Now he sat in front of the man who was supposedly, if anyone asked, his new boss. "What have we got?" he snapped wearily.

Nelson settled into his chair and studied the man before him. "Not much beyond what I’ve been cabling you people for nearly six months. You just out here to check on your friend?"

Webb studied the picture of the president that was just over Nelson’s shoulder. He could tell that Nelson thought him an interloper into his little domain out here at the edge of the Pacific. A real pompous ass. But Webb also knew that most people saw him that way, too. Hell, he cultivated the image. Like he had with those two reporters. Gosh, Sarah’s so beautiful. I wonder what she’s really doing out here. And that Cavanaugh woman! Remarkable what divorcing a philandering husband will do to a perfectly ordinary woman. Not that I blame her all that much. He shook himself out of his irreverent thoughts. He needed to focus on why he’d flown nearly ten thousand miles. "So, is it too late to go and see her? She is still alive?" He held his breath.

Alexander Nelson picked up the phone and spoke to his secretary. "Kate will find out for us. When was the last time you slept?"

"On the plane." Well, he really hadn’t slept all that much, but he didn’t need to go into the reasons. He couldn’t afford entanglements. Of course, it took two to entangle. And Sarah MacKenzie had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t like him one bit. Fine. He had a job to do. And since when did rich brown hair and dark brown eyes allure him? He liked his women leggy, blond, and not too very bright. Smart women asked questions, and Clayton Webb didn’t like answering questions. He did the asking. Though he hadn’t done a very good job with Sarah or Meredith. He still didn’t know what they were doing out here. Not that it really mattered.

Even before he missed the plane, he could tell that the trip, trying on all of them, was really affecting Sarah. She seemed to withdraw into herself. He’d even broken out of his gruff shell to ask if she was feeling well. That earned him a glare, to which he responded in kind, demanding to know why, if she couldn’t handle it, was she flying so far from the night life and comfort of New York. He didn’t buy that animal story for anything. What animal? He didn’t even know that. Before Sarah could answer, Meredith Cavanaugh had stepped in and put him in his place. ‘Why ever do you care, Mr. Webb?’ And, of course, he’d backed off. He couldn’t afford to care.

Nelson interrupted his musings with a sharp, "Well, you look like hell. You should get some sleep before we go see her anyway."

"No. Every minute counts, and I have to talk to her." Had she really seen Palmer? Why the hell was she in New Guinea anyway? She was supposed to be coming back to give a first hand report on the conditions over in China!

Nelson stood. "Well, I don’t know what good it will do you. She hasn’t been very lucid."

"Do you have someone writing down everything she says?"

Nelson looked shocked. "Of course not. Who? The sisters?" He snorted. "Most of them speak French, and all of them are meaner than my father’s junkyard dog. Of course, the guy who found her might be paying attention. He hasn’t left her side. You can never tell about those people."

Those people? "Who found her?"

"Some bum in his boat."

"A bum has a boat?" Webb snapped in aggravation. He dealt in facts.

"You’ll see," Nelson said coolly.

They walked the short distance to the small hospital. "Where exactly did he find her?"

"On a small boat floating near one of the Treasury Islands."

"You check it out?"

"How? With who? Kate? The Navy isn’t going to help us. Besides, there’s only one ship in the area. The British? Oh, that would go over well. ‘I say old man, one of our spies got herself hit on the head. Might you check it out?’"

"She isn’t a spy, damn it! She’s a nice kid who happened to be in the right place, and the right time to do us a favor. That’s all. Her father is worried sick."

"Women shouldn’t be gallivanting all over the world. That’s what comes from giving them the vote!"

Webb gritted his teeth in frustration. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with Nelson. But the man, who was in the thick of it, didn’t seem to understand that the US was behind the rest of the world in terms of what was really happening in Germany, Italy, Japan and a dozen other countries. The worst of it was is that many people liked it that way. Webb blamed men like Lindberg and Father Coughlin. He blamed naïve men like Nelson who refused to see past their next embassy ball. If the United States was to become a world power, the president and his cabinet needed intelligence. He was doing his best, but he could do better if he just had a few more people.

He used whomever he could, and when he found out that an old family friend had been traveling in China when the Japanese invaded, he managed to contact her, and asked her to bring back as much information as she could. He’d felt guilty enough at the time. Now, he prayed that she lived, and that her father never found out the part he’d played in Meg’s disappearance. When she sent her last telegram saying that she’d seen Palmer in Hawaii and was getting someone to help her, Webb had wanted to crawl through the wires and pull her back through with him. When they heard nothing further for three weeks, he was sure she was dead. But two weeks ago, he received the terse, ‘Port Moresby. Come soonest.’ He had tried to track her movements from Hawaii to Fiji to Bora Bora. So many people remembered seeing her and her escort. No one admitted to seeing Clark Palmer. Why the hell hadn’t she just come home? Why did she have to follow him? Hell, he had no proof that she really was following Palmer. With her damned wanderlust, it could be anything. Maybe it wasn’t Palmer.

Clark Palmer. Webb closed his eyes for a moment and the image of his personal Professor Moriarity came to him. No one knew Palmer’s true background. British? Irish? German? He was a master at disguises and could blend in anywhere. Webb had no idea how many languages the man spoke, certainly more than Webb’s own seven. If Palmer was here, he was here stirring up trouble for the Germans. That much Webb knew with certainty. And if Palmer was in the South Pacific, then that meant Germany was looking for an ally in Japan. Not good. Not good at all.

The nursing sister at the front desk glared at them. "Mssr. Nelson! Do you know the time!?"

"Now, sister." Nelson tried to soothe the woman. "Mr. Webb is an old family friend of Miss Austin’s. Her family is quite distraught, and he needs to see her so he can assure them that everything is being handled as well as can be expected."

The sister glared at him as if she’d been insulted. Webb sighed and wondered how Nelson got his job here. "Sister, please. I won’t stay long. Besides, I understand her rescuer hasn’t left her side."

Her face softened. "No. Mssr. Galindez, after he brought her in to us, has insisted on sitting guard at her bed. He seems quite devoted."

Nelson snorted, which earned him another glare. "I won’t have you thinking such things. He is a good Catholic. He would never…"

Webb stopped listening. He figured he could find Meg on his own.

She lay so still in the middle of the bed, her bruised and bandaged arms rested on top of the white sheet. Her hair, lank and stringy plastered against the pillow. The mosquito netting gave her an ethereal look. He stepped closer, only to hear a growl of warning. Looking up, he saw a scruffy looking Spaniard narrow his eyes. "Who are you?" the man demanded.

"Clayton Webb. I’m a friend of Miss Austin’s. You would be Mr. Galindez?"

‘That’s right." The man straightened in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I found her."

"And what? You’ve decided to keep her?" Webb let his weariness get the better of him.

Galindez gave him a cheeky grin, then sighed. "It isn’t like that. She made me promise."

"Promise what?" But before Galindez could answer him, they both started at the weak groan coming from the bed. Both men rushed to opposite sides and pulled back the netting. Webb hadn’t seen the faded bruising on her face through the mesh. Now he gasped in horror at the damage. "Oh, Meg," he whispered. "What did he do to you?"

"Who? You think I did this?" Galindez demanded, even as he took Meg’s hand in his. Meg was a pale blond under normal circumstances. Now, Webb couldn’t see any color in her skin at all. The contrast of her stark white hand against Galindez’s dark brown was vivid.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Alexander Nelson rushed to the side of the bed where Galindez stood.

"Leave him alone, Nelson." Webb saw that the moment Galindez took Meg’s hand, she calmed from her thrashing. He leaned closer. "Meg, honey? It’s Clay. Come on sweetheart; open your eyes. Let me see you."

"Cl… Cl…" she tried. It was obvious that someone had beaten her unmercifully. Her eyes had been swollen shut at one time. They were no longer black and blue. Webb thought the green and yellow was almost worse. "Fi-fin-find." She gasped and he saw her squeeze Galindez’s hand. He took her other one in his and he almost dropped it. It was so cold. Dear God, she can’t die.

"Find who, Meg? Palmer?"

It took great effort on her part but she managed an almost nod.

"Where did you see him last?" Her eyes popped open for a minute. He saw the pain there, and he vowed to kill Palmer this time. "Where Meg?"

"A… A… Ja…." Her voice faded off and her eyes fluttered closed.

"What was that?" Webb demanded. Galindez reverently rested her hand on her chest and returned to the seat where he was keeping watch.

"I have no idea," Nelson said. "Since she was brought in and gave us her name, it’s the most she’s said – at least to me." He turned his glare to Galindez. "Did she say something to you, boy?"

Galindez narrowed his eyes in fury. Webb closed his in exasperation. Galindez didn’t look like anyone he’d bring to one of his mother’s dinner parties, but he wasn’t dirty. Raggedy was more like it. But Webb had seen and done too much in the past five years. He had a very small checklist for judging the people he met: friend or foe; help or hinder. What was Galindez? He’d certainly stood guard over Meg. Of course, Meg was a pretty girl – at least she had been before Palmer had beaten her. Only Palmer could’ve done this.

"Thank you for waiting up for me, Nelson. I’ll find a room and send for my luggage tomorrow. I want to sit with her for a while."

Nelson nodded curtly. "You need sleep, but I can’t force you. Just fill me in on whatever you decide to do." With that, he stalked out of the ward, glaring at Galindez as he did.

"Of course I will." Webb snorted and looked at Galindez. "May I speak with you? Perhaps I can buy you a cup of coffee… stronger, if you prefer." Galindez looked like he was going to balk. "Look, I need to know what’s going on and I haven’t eaten anything since…" He shook his head trying to clear it. "I don’t even remember when. Please? We won’t be gone long. The sisters will watch her."

Galindez turned his gaze away from the bed and boldly met Webb’s appraisal. "Stronger, most definitely. If we go across the street, we can still watch the building.

"I don’t mind as long as I can get something to eat."

Galindez led him to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant across the street from the entrance to the hospital. Galindez ate greedily, but kept looking out the window, keeping watch. He ordered one drink, something local Webb assumed, tossed it back, shuddered, then demanded coffee. Webb picked at his food, but forced himself to take the nourishment; grimacing at what passed for coffee.

Galindez shrugged. "There’s a place run by a Frenchman, but that doesn’t open for another six hours."

"This serves. That’s not really why we’re here. Tell me what happened. How did you come to find her? She was in a boat? What else was in it? Did she say anything before you reached the hospital?"

Galindez continued to eat, but Webb could tell he was putting his story together. Finally, he looked up and said, "I’ll tell it all. Hold your questions."

Webb was near the end of his rope. The food had done little to help. But he managed to control his anger. "Go ahead."

"I didn’t just happen across her. I was looking for her… for them both."

"Both!? She was with Palmer?" He knew just how tired he was when he said the name out loud. And it looked like Galindez was rather shocked too, as if he knew the import of the name. "Who was she with?"

"Not… him." Galindez looked around, and Webb felt like a child. Galindez lower his voice even further. "She came to my boat almost a month ago. She wanted to hire it, and me. Frankly, I was a little leery. I mean, she’s so beautiful." Both of them paused, trying to come to terms with the still form they had left in the hospital room across the street as opposed to the smiling and vivacious girl Webb had grown up with and Galindez had fallen a little in love with as he took her and her boyfriend through the islands. . "I told her an outrageous price, thinking it would scare her away. She just said, ‘Don’t be silly, I’ll pay you half that.’ I took it, and made plans to meet her the next day. That’s when I met him."

"Who damn it?!"

"Never got his last name. But she called him Harm."

"Harm!?" Webb knew he just squeaked. "As in Harm’s Way!?" Dear God. It couldn’t be. He fought the hysteria he felt rising up inside him. Perfect. Just perfect. He felt like an amateur. All along they had been on the same trail as he. He knew it now. Had they conspired to get him to miss the plane? They were looking for Rabb! What the hell was up with that cockamamie story about animals? Damn it!

"I guess." Galindez looked confused, and Webb remembered that there was no reason why Galindez would’ve seen Harmon Rabb’s newspaper column, syndicated in over 20 newspapers back home. He tried to remember if he’d ever actually met the man to describe him.

"Where did she want to go?"

"Bouganville."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Yeah, she was going to see A… Madré! That’s what she was trying to say to you. AJ’s. She and the guy wanted to go to AJ’s! They were meeting a man there."

Webb kept his voice level and low. "Who’s this AJ?"

"He owns a bar… and a plane… and he hunts orchids… and he’s the unofficial mayor of Selau. You name it, he’s in it."

"The local bully?"

"AJ? Hell no. Nice enough guy if you stay on his good side."

"What’s his story?"

"We don’t ask that out here." Galindez’s look said it all. Webb wouldn’t make the mistake of asking Galindez for his story either – unless it pertained to what happened to Meg.

"So you took them up there on your boat. How long did it take?"

"Well it should’ve only taken a couple of days of pushing, but they wanted to check out a couple of the other islands, question the local fishermen."

"But you took them to this ‘AJ’s’ eventually?"

"I dropped them off at the dock in Selau. She said that they would radio Port Moresby when they were ready to return." Galindez looked stricken. "I should’ve gone with them. Made sure that they were safe. The man seemed to think it was all a game, an adventure. She was more worried, as if she understood how dangerous this Palmer was." Galindez glared at him. "She told me, you know. She told him, too, but he seemed to think that they could handle it just fine without me."

Webb sighed. "Sounds like Rabb. From what he’s written, he seems like he has faced some interesting characters You’d think he would learn. Did he seem like he would protect her? Why was she the only one worried? What the hell happened?"

"I don’t know. As for ‘would he protect her?’ I think so. After a week passed and I didn’t hear from them, I decided to go back up there myself. I was just entering the Treasury straits when I noticed the boat. It’s the kind the natives use. I would’ve ignored it, but something drew me to it. I thought she was dead, but when I picked her up, she started crying, begging." Galindez stood. "I want to get back to the hospital."

"What was that promise you made her?"

"She was begging, ‘Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.’ What was I supposed to do? I have no idea whether or not Harm’s alive, but there’s not much I can do about that. I have no idea where to start, except back at AJ’s now. I feel like a fool."

Webb leaned back, and as weary as he was, he knew that he’d discovered a valuable asset in Victor Galindez. "You go back. I’ll find a room, shower, and then I’ll come back to the hospital and spell you. That work for you?"

A look of intense relief flooded Galindez’s face. "Thank you."

The shower helped. Webb gazed longingly at the bed, but a promise was a promise, and guilt was guilt. He should never have asked her to report on the situation. He should never have told her about Palmer in the first place. It was a stupid slip. But they’d grown up together, and he’d confided all manner of things to her.

Making his way through the awakening bustling port city, and capital of the huge island, he noted the diversity of the people. Natives with their brown skin and shifting glances walked next to confident looking Asians and worried looking Europeans. The news from Europe wasn’t good, and he wondered how long it would take for Hitler to start his invasions. He’d seen and heard a lot on his last visit to Germany in 1936. He had gone over with the Olympians, stood in the stands and cheered on the US, and took great pride in shaking Jesse Owens’ hand afterward. Then he put on his mask and went to several parties in Berlin, meeting and talking with Joseph Goebbels for nearly an hour. The man was persuasive, and if Webb was being honest, he could almost understand how men like Lindberg could be taken in. Perhaps Lindberg had never spoken with Heinrich Himmler.

Even in the early morning heat and humidity, even 10,000 miles away, Webb shuddered as he recalled that conversation. The room had been softly lit, the men and women finely dressed in evening attire, laughter mingled with the soft violins to serve as a backdrop. The level of hatred was as intense as the pride with which Himmler explained his plan to cleanse Germany. Webb sometimes thought he’d somehow misunderstood. He prayed that it was mostly grandiose boasting.

But Palmer was different. Webb had seen the aftereffects of Palmer’s work. A secretary to the Ambassador of Turkey, murdered to implicate the Greek attaché. A scandal involving the wife of the Irish Minister that could’ve been, should have been, covered up, exposed, complete with pictures on the front page of the London Times. Himmler might be dangerous in the philosophical sense, but short of assassination, something that Webb didn’t believe in, there was little he could do. It would make him the same as Palmer. But Palmer was someone he could contend with, and Palmer would pay dearly for hurting Meg Austin.

He reached the hospital and strode confidently through to the ward where he’d left Meg not two hours before, calm and sleeping. As soon as he entered the ward, he could see something was wrong. "What’s happened?" he shouted even as he approached the scene at the bed. A doctor, a nurse, and Galindez were around the bed holding down a frantic, thrashing Austin. "Meg!"

At the sound of her name from his lips, her body went rigid but her head kept turning seeking him. "Clay!" The sound was harsh, strained, and hurt his ears.

"I’m right here, Meg. Calm down. I’m right here."

Their eyes met and she started crying. "Clay! You came."

He pushed the doctor away and took her hand in his. "You knew I would. You sent for me."

"Where’s Harm?"

"We don’t know, sweetheart. You have to tell us what happened."

"Water!" she demanded.

The nurse looked to the doctor, who nodded. Holding her head, Webb let her sip a bit.

"Don’t give her too much. She may have internal bleeding."

Webb fought his anger. It would do no good, and the truth was, getting her to a better hospital wasn’t an option. Even the trip to Brisbane in Australia was over a thousand miles; Sydney, almost two thousand. "Meg, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

"You have to find Harm." Her tears were breaking his heart. "He left me in the boat. He pushed me off into the ocean. He was trying to save me. Palmer was so close. He told me he had to do it. He told me he would lead Palmer away from me."

She shouldn’t have been able to grip his hand as tight as she did, but there was a reservoir of strength that he knew she’d need if she were to survive. "Meg. Tell me what happened, calmly, and I’ll do what I can."

"You have to find him, Clay. He said he’d write about Palmer and what he’s doing."

Webb nodded knowing that Rabb would never be able to get past the high wall of editorial resistance. Men like Cavanaugh refused to see it.

Galindez squeezed her hand. "Meg, it’s Victor."

Her eyes jerked away from Webb’s. "Victor? Oh, my God. How did you know I was here?"

"He found you, Meg. You’re alive because Galindez found you."

"You did?" Her grip loosened, and Webb suspected that she would sleep again soon.

"Meg, tell me what I need to know to find Rabb."

AJ’s

Selau, Bougainville

February 19, 1938

The two stood there glaring at each other, both too stubborn to back down. Before AJ could continue his argument, the sound of the Goose could be heard flying low overhead. "Damn the man, he’s doing that on purpose." AJ momentarily transferred his frustration to the unseen Bud. However, that was short lived, and Meredith Cavanaugh once again demanded his complete attention.

"I’m quite sure you must be mistaken, Mr. Chegwidden. My reporter came all the way out here looking for a white tiger. Now why would he come here, if as you say, there are no tigers on the island? You can’t be mistaken?"

Tom Boone sat next to Sarah MacKenzie. He was enjoying his friend’s predicament. "Yeah, AJ! You sure there aren’t any tigers on Bougainville?"

Sarah turned her glare to her table companion. "Why are you doing that?" she snapped. But Boone just patted her hand. She jerked it away and returned her glare to AJ and Meredith.

"Miss Cavanaugh. I’ve made Selau my home for nearly fifteen years."

"It’s a big island!"

"Yes, and New Guinea is bigger; and New Guinea does indeed have tigers. Go back to New Guinea and look for your damned tiger!"

"We’re not really looking for the tiger itself, Mr. Chegwidden. It’s Mr. Rabb."

"I don’t know your Mr. Rabb. You’ve described Mr. Rabb down to his baby blue eyes, and I’m telling you, he’s never been here!"

"And I’m telling you that several men said they saw him and a young lady let off at the Selau docks, and that they asked for specific directions to your establishment. Are they lying?"

AJ wanted nothing more than to stalk out; but it was his establishment, by God! He could fight any man, anywhere - but women? Strong women with strong opinions did him in every time. He dared not show such weakness now. The bar was full - the word had gone out of the possibility of the entertainment value of the two pretty American women. "Sturgis!"

"Right here, boss." Sturgis Turner fought to keep the grin off his face. Let Tom Boone take the brunt of his boss’s ire.

"Did you see this Rabb person?"

"No.

"Jason!"

"M-me neither, Mr… AJ."

AJ glared at Tom Boone, his question asked with his raised eyebrow. Boone held up his hands as if to ward off the anger there. "Not me. But…"

"But what!?"

"She’s right. A couple of the boys said that the ‘Gypsy Girl’ dropped off a white couple, three weeks ago. I asked them myself!" He gave Meredith a cocky grin.

"‘Gypsy Girl?’ That’s Galindez’s boat, isn’t it?"

"Yep."

Sarah was growing tired of it all. They’d rested for nearly forty-eight hours after they landed. The bedroom where they slept really was quite nice, considering its primitive nature. As poor as she’d been growing up, they always had indoor plumbing; even if it was a shared bath down the tenement hall. But she had been introduced to outdoor facilities on Fiji; she would manage. Now, she was rested, full and wanting only to find Harm. "Mr. Chegwidden," she began. "Let us, for the sake of argument, assume that you are right. There are no tigers on Bougainville. There are no tigers on the Solomon Islands. That doesn’t change the fact that our friend and some woman," Of course there was a woman, why am I even surprised that there’s a woman!? "got off a boat three weeks ago. Even if they didn’t come here, can’t you help us look for them?"

"Where!? Darlin’, this is a damned big island. Where do you want me to start?"

"We have to look somewhere! He’s here! Damn it!" She blushed at her language but she was beginning to get very upset.

"Yes, he’s here."

They all turned to find Clayton Webb standing at the door. He was dressed in a white tropical suit that looked like he’d just put it on. Even his pant legs were dry and pressed, though it was obvious that he’d just arrived on the Goose; Bud Roberts was standing right behind him, soaked and sweaty, but looking very excited. Webb had two young boys firmly in hand. "These two say they saw Meg Austin and Harmon Rabb get into a car at the docks. Where are they?"

Everyone stared in shock at the newcomer. Most reacted negatively. Sarah and Meredith groaned at the intrusion of the man who’d shown little kindness, and a great deal of rudeness, throughout their travels. But it was AJ who took control. "Who the devil are you, coming in here, making demands in MY place?"

Webb pushed the boys inside, and strode into the place like he owned it. He was used to dealing with petty tyrants, though from what Galindez had said, Chegwidden should be cultivated. He just didn’t have the time. "You’re AJ, right? I understand from certain people that you’re the big man on this island. Well, I’ve got news for you, this is bigger."

"Oh?" Tom Boone and Sturgis Turner both cringed at AJ’s tone. Meredith watched the interplay with interest. Sarah wanted to scream.

"I can understand quite a bit, if you explain it to me." AJ’s voice reminded Meredith of the big cat they were looking for. "As for these missing big game hunters, all I know for sure is that they never showed up here. And - there are no tigers on this island, WHITE or otherwise."

"Excuse me?" Webb blanched and turned his glare on the two women. He stalked up to Sarah and demanded. "You said you were interested in animals! What animals!?"

Before that moment, Sarah had thought him an officious little bureaucrat. But there was a hard edge and an intensity that she couldn’t deny and she blurted out, "Harm cabled us and said he was on the trail of a white tiger."

If the consequences hadn’t been so deadly Webb would have laughed. They had been so close. Close to the biggest story that would never be printed. Webb groaned as he finally made the connection between his nemesis and the occasional mention of a supposedly new player out in the Pacific. As with all puzzles, once he put it all together it made sense. For months they had been hearing vague hints about a new player in the South Pacific with the code name White Tiger. Now he understood. "Palmer, you bastard."

"Palmer?" Tom Boone and Sarah had been the only two in the bar who could’ve heard Webb. "Clark Palmer?"

Webb’s head jerked up, his green eyes ablaze. "Where did you hear that name before?"

"Describe him, son." Boone glanced up to find AJ and Meredith standing right behind Webb. But Webb didn’t notice, he was too busy berating himself. Amateur! Rank damned amateur. But it’s too late now. Galindez had said that AJ was a good man, but he said nothing about this other guy.

"Who are you?"

"Me? Well pardon my manners all to hell. Guess I’ll do the polite thing and make introductions all around."

"Damn it! I need to know who you are, and how you know Clark Palmer."

"Well shoot, we all ‘know’ him, I guess - as much as anyone can know a recluse. Right, AJ?"

Webb finally glanced straight up to find the big bald man glaring down at him. "Well… AJ?" He tried for snide and cocky, but he was just too tired to pull it off.

"You know, you come barging in here calling me by my given name, and I don’t think I like it. You’re so cocksure, demanding to know who people are… who the hell are you?"

"Clayton Webb, I’m with the State Department." It wasn’t a lie. He really was with the State Department; sometimes, when the president needed him to be. Like now.

"Why the hell does the State Department care about Clark Palmer?"

Webb groaned. "That information is classified." And for the first time since meeting him, Sarah MacKenzie felt something for him beside cold disdain. She felt furious. One part of her realized that her fury was probably misplaced, but she just couldn’t help it. Her hand connected with his cheek in a most satisfying manner, though her skin stung with the force that jerked his head back. She didn’t think the bar could get any quieter. Even the hum of the generator that powered the dim lights and overhead fan seemed to grow still. "Stop it! Stop it at once. You will tell me what you know. You will tell me what you’re doing here. So help me if he dies because you don’t tell us, I will make you pay!"

Some things were beginning to fall into place for Meredith. Offhand remarks at dinner parties, the way Webb reacted. The man was no diplomat, that was for sure. "You were sent out here to check on what, Mr. Webb?" She asked it quietly. Well, someone had to show some restraint.

Webb, holding his burning cheek, glared at Sarah, hurt beyond the physical pain. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to go away. He didn’t want her hurt the way… "I came out here because a friend asked me to." That was as far as he was willing to go. He answered to one man, and the president wasn’t in this seedy little shack on this buggy island in the middle of the godforsaken ocean. "Meg Austin is an old family friend and she told me…" The pain was too great to lie about it. "Palmer almost killed her. He beat her and left her for dead. A fisherman found her, took her to Port Moresby. She told me that she and Rabb came here to find Palmer."

"I don’t understand." Sarah whispered staring at him, trying to work it out in her head.

"There’s nothing for you to understand. I’ll handle it." Webb turned away from her to appeal to AJ or his friends. "Please. Does someone in this accursed place know where Palmer is?"

Boone sat back, and assumed a huge smile. "You mean besides his plantation?"

Even Webb’s deadly look couldn’t take the pleased grin off Boone’s face. For the first time in over a year, he was the center of attention for something other than the nightmarish crash, or his drunken rowdiness. "’Bout two years ago, this guy shows up. Nice enough fella, not much of a talker. Bought up the old Martineau cocoa plantation, halfway up the volcano."

Sturgis cleared his throat. "Thomas, as always, you – as well as half the people on the island - have it wrong. It was never called the Martineau place, it was ‘la montagne du tigre.’ Tiger Mountain. Frank Buck himself named it. Said that, from his plane, the top of the mountain looked just like a tiger’s head."

"I’ll be damned," Webb said, as the puzzle of Palmer’s code name fell into place. "I always wondered about that."

Boone didn’t like the fact that the attention had strayed from him. "He didn’t come in here much. I always saw him in the jungle."

AJ nodded, already going over in his head what they would need to do. "No. He only came in here once, shortly after he arrived on Bougainville. He sat at a table in the back and drank rotgut like everyone else. He met with one man, someone I’ve not seen since. Not native; Japanese, Chinese, I’m not sure. Didn’t pay a lot of attention, frankly."

"I saw him a couple of times, out in the forest. Always skulking around. Don’t like him," Sturgis said. "Course, it could’ve been me. He didn’t like many of the natives either, but he uses them on his plantation."

"He seems nice enough to me." Everyone turned to look at Jason Tiner. He blushed at the scrutiny. "I just think he’s kind of lonely, you know? He found me once, said I was on his land and asked me what I was doing, but he was real nice about it. When I showed him the Bifrenaria harrisoniae, he started laughing but said I could pick all the flowers I wanted. I usually run into him a couple of times a month. He asks me about the flowers and… and other things. He really listens to me." The young man finished emphatically, and Webb thought that he was making a point. It didn’t appear that the boy inspired an easy friendship. Just the kind of person that Palmer would seek out.

"So he asked you about the island and the people and the problems? Who didn’t get along with his neighbor? Who bore a grudge against the magistrate? He asked you to tell him if anyone new came to the island?" Webb said it all matter-of-factly, keeping any accusation from his voice. He needn’t have bothered, the bright blush on the boy’s face confirmed Webb’s suspicions.

Trying hard to maintain some dignity, Jason straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. "It’s not like he was asking me anything that everyone else on this rock doesn’t talk about."

Webb didn’t bother to correct him, he was sure that Palmer was slowly cultivating the young man, and might very well have kept it all very casual for a while. Palmer had a history of using susceptible people, then killing them or setting them up as scapegoats.

"Can you take me to him?" Webb asked.

"We’re going, too." Meredith and Sarah spoke together.

"No!" Webb snapped just before AJ practically roared his disapproval. As if in total agreement, thunder rocked the building.

"I won’t have it. Two girls traipsing about in the jungle like it was a stroll down Fifth Avenue!" AJ glared at Meredith. For her part, all she could do was sputter.

However, Sarah stood and announced, "I’ve flown 10,000 miles, been sick, killed spiders bigger than mice, and have more mosquito bites than I have skin. I’m not waiting here while you to go look for him." With that, she pushed through the crowd of people and back to her room.

"Now see what you’ve done!" Meredith glowered at AJ, who glowered right back at her.

"What have I done? Treated you with the respect your sex demands."

"Oh, don’t you dare, AJ Chegwidden. We’re going, with or without you. You think you’re the only person on this island who knows where Mr. Palmer’s place is?" She turned her attention to Tom Boone, who was sitting there rather stunned at the turn of events. "I’m sure there are plenty of people who would appreciate the guide’s fee." She didn’t back down, and AJ saw in her a match that he really wasn’t sure he was prepared to meet.

After a moment, he sighed long and hard. "Do you mind if we wait until it stops raining?"

Knowing the incredible victory she’d just won, Meredith knew better than to crow. She lowered her eyes and kept her smile carefully hidden. "If you think it best… AJ."

A snort was her only answer. "Sturgis."

"Yeah, AJ?"

"Get my guns out…" AJ turned his glare to Webb. "We have to prepare."

"You got it."

They checked the guns and studied the rough map showing crude landmarks. "It’s a big island with more people than you would suspect. We can approach him without raising too much suspicion." AJ looked to Webb for agreement.

"Palmer knows me as a minor bureaucrat. Depending on who he knows in New Guinea, how often he checks in there, he may or may not have been advised that I’ve been assigned there. It’s not unheard of for the consulate or embassy to assign a staff member to escort important visitors. But I’ll just tell him that I was coerced into coming with the two crazy American reporters. It isn’t much of a plan. But I suppose walking in and demanding to know where Rabb is, just might give your men a chance to flank them on the other side." He laughed bitterly. "Actually it’s a lousy plan, but what else do we have?"

"Well, it’s not like we have the men for an invasion!" AJ shook his head in wonder that he was not only contemplating the plan, but taking two women with him, too. "Sturgis, stay a moment. I want to discuss the men you’ll take with you. Bud, go home to your wife."

"But… but…"

"You need to stay back here and keep an eye on things." He played his trump card. "I’m trusting you, Roberts."

The young man knew exactly what AJ was doing, but he nodded in resignation. "I’ll come back first thing in the morning. I’ll watch the place." Dejectedly, he walked out of the bar into the pouring rain.

AJ turned his attention to Jason. "You’ll be able to show us the back way in? Hopefully the one least likely to be used by any of Palmer’s men?"

Jason nodded excitedly. "Yes. The natives use it a lot, so any noise we make will be ignored."

"Well, let’s not go in with a band, shall we," Webb said snidely.

AJ glared but said only, "Jason, show Mr. Webb to the last empty room."

In the quiet hallway leading to the back room, the rain made talking too hard. Both men were grateful for that. "Here it is; I guess it isn’t much, but it’s dry." Jason didn’t wait for his reply.

Actually, it wasn’t dry at all. His clothes seemed to soak up the humidity hanging in the air like a curtain. Webb surveyed the small room. He’d stayed in much better, and much worse. Tiredly, he stripped out of his suit jacket, ripped off his tie, and loosened the top buttons of his shirt. He walked out onto the covered porch overlooking the jungle not twenty feet from the building. How will we ever find anyone in that?

"Why didn’t you tell me on the plane?" He barely heard her. He turned, but couldn’t see her hiding in the shadows of the porch.

He ignored her question. "Sarah. You should be asleep."

"Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve saved so much time."

"I didn’t know. You didn’t say anything either." He didn’t need to admit that had she told him everything, all it would have done was allowed him to worry all the more. She stepped closer. She hugged her thin gown to her body, though the humidity made it cling to her curves, and he found himself reacting in a most embarrassing way. He forced himself to remember that she’d come 10,000 miles to save Rabb. Webb couldn’t imagine a woman doing that for him. There was Meg, of course. But Meg was different. Meg understood. His father, a career diplomat; her father, a career army officer, they’d run into each other often as their families were uprooted. They were closer than they were to blood relatives. He hated the travel, though; she seemed to thrive on it. ‘I love the adventure of it, Clay.’ It’d been in Bucharest at an embassy party, just before she left for China, when he’d casually pointed out Clark Palmer. ‘You think there’s not evil in the world, Meg? There’s an evil man, right there.’ He wished with all his heart he’d kept his big mouth shut. Well, he would never do something that stupid again.

"Where did you go?"

He jerked at her touch. "Huh? When? After I missed the plane?"

"No." Her voice softened. "Just now. You seemed so far away." He could almost feel her heat, now that she’d moved closer. "I’m sorry I slapped you."

He pulled himself together. He was immediately wary of her more gentle tone. He needed to keep her at arms length. "No, you’re not. That’s what women do, isn’t it? You moan and groan and lash out! Get us to do what you want, then apologize, bat your eyes, and everything’s back to normal."

He expected, hoped, that she would hit him again. But all she did was laugh softly. "Well, I guess you have our number, Mr. Webb. I’ll see you in the morning. Please don’t try and sneak out on us. We’ll find someone else to show us the way, if you do."

He tried hard to make his laugh sneering. "Well, I see where it got Rabb."

"Good night, Mr. Webb."

Somewhere on Mt. Aita

Bougainville, New Guinea

February 20, 1938

Near Dawn

He was wet. And tired. And hungry. Lord, he was hungry. And he thought the bullet wound was probably infected. But mostly he was wet. He’d found the minuscule cave three days ago, after nearly a week of hiding from Palmer. He peered out into the graying dawn, wondering if he should chance it. Of course, he was hopelessly lost. But he didn’t want to die here. He leaned back and tried to close his eyes and sleep. But that just brought back the sounds of her screaming in agony. Oh, Meg. I’m so sorry I didn’t get there sooner. I hope you’re alive. I did the best I could. Really I did.

"I know you’re out there, Rabb! Come and talk to me! We can come to some kind of agreement."

Palmer sounded really far away. But still, Rabb had learned one thing. Never trust the White Tiger. Jesus. The best story of his career, and he was probably never going to get to write it. He wondered if anyone would come looking for him. He wondered if Sarah would cry. Probably say, ‘Serves you right.’ He knew he was being unfair. Sarah was a good friend. A great friend. He knew what she wanted from him. But he wasn’t ready to settle down yet. He still had so much to see before that – if he didn’t die here in this cave.

"Rabb! I’m getting wet and angry. If you make me find you, I’ll hurt you worse than I did that bitch! You saw what I did to her. Is she dead? Is she lying next to you gasping out her last breath? I’ll help her, Rabb, if you come out."

Thank God. Palmer didn’t know. Hadn’t seen him push the boat out into the current, then sprint back into the jungle. He just hoped that he’d done right by Meg. He had been attracted to her right away. Of course, it could have been the fact that they saved each other’s lives in China. Afterward, when they were safe, she’d come to him. Who would’ve thought that a girl that tiny could be such a wildcat? God, he hoped she was okay.

There was a rustling just outside his cave. He held his breath. He was getting good at sensing danger. This didn’t feel like danger, but what? The small rodent scuttled into his cave. Even in the dim light of dawn he could tell it was small, there wouldn’t be much meat there. He slowly picked up the rock. Food.

AJ’s

Selau, Bougainville

February 20, 1938

AJ hid the fact that he was impressed. Since arriving, both women had dressed stylishly in casual slacks and simple silk blouses. Last night, while he and the men went over the plans, he’d wondered what they would wear to hike through the jungle. He’d hoped that they had nothing appropriate. Damn them both.

If Sears had a section marked ‘Safari Wear,’ these outfits would be in it. The pants they wore hugged their curves, and AJ found himself carefully avoiding Meredith’s shapely bottom. Sarah seemed a bit more self-conscious, particularly around Webb. He wondered if the spy – and AJ had little doubt now that’s what the man was – had said something inappropriate. However, after that slap she gave Webb yesterday, AJ was determined to step in only if necessary. Looking down, he was surprised and pleased to see that their shoes matched their outfits perfectly. Not for style – hiking boots were not stylish – but for functionality, they were perfect. "What did you do? Buy out Abercrombie?" He laughed good-naturedly.

Unfortunately, Meredith took his tone to be patronizing. "Where else? Lovely people. Very helpful." She was tired. Sarah had been restless last night. Meredith was beginning to have some doubts as to whether or not this was the best course of action. In the cold light of morning, she could see just how ill prepared she and Sarah were; no matter how functional their outfits. "I don’t suppose you have time to teach me to use a gun?"

"Dear Lord." Webb joined them and it looked like he hadn’t slept well either. "Ladies, just stay here. We’ll bring them back and then watch while you beat the tar out of Palmer. Perhaps with your parasols?"

"Very droll, Mr. Webb." Sarah looked up from her coffee. She had to say one thing for AJ; he served darn good coffee. "However, I have no desire to ‘beat the tar’ out of anyone. I just want to find Harm."

Jason came to stand behind her as if she needed his protection. Webb grunted and reached for the coffee pot. "You serve breakfast?"

"Sturgis made sandwiches. You can eat while we get started." AJ quickly noted that as much as a fashion plate as he might present to the world, Webb had gotten his hands – or at least his feet - dirty before. Well-worn boots peaked out from beneath heavy, worn twill pants. The shirt that completely covered his arms was lightweight, but looked like it would withstand a trek through the rainforest.

Six of them set off. AJ in front, followed closely by Meredith who was watching him keenly as if she could learn all she needed to know through simple proximity. She tried to ignore the fact that she felt almost compelled to be close to him. Tiner followed, but he kept looking back to where Sarah was falling ever farther behind them.

"This isn’t 42^nd Street is it?" Webb said snidely. "You want to get a move on?"

"You know, Mr. Webb, you’re a real gentlemen. I can see how you’ll go far in the State Department. Oh, wait. Do you really work in the State Department? Or do they keep you chained in a tiny little office and only let you out when something nefarious is called for, like getting friends into trouble?"

"She got you a good one, boy. Yes, she did." Tom Boone brought up the rear, and he couldn’t help but laugh at Webb’s furious look. "Hit a little close to home?"

"No." Webb snapped. Fine. Let her hate me. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

The ground became rockier and steeper, and Sarah had no choice but to take Jason’s proffered hand. It was either that or, she feared, Webb would start pushing her. Not that he’d ever willing touched her. No, he looked – several times on the plane she had caught him watching her - but didn’t touch. What do you want him to do? Pick you up and throw you over his shoulder like some caveman?

They reached a clearing and the sun was directly overhead. "Oh good. Luncheon?" Webb asked.

Jason shrugged off the backpack with the water and more of the sandwiches that Sturgis had packed before he’d left with his own group of men. Men eager for a little foray in the jungle. Men who knew AJ would stand them all to drinks when they returned. "I usually stop here for my break." Of course, what he didn’t point out was that he’d usually stopped and marked a dozen specimens for harvesting by this time. But Sarah looked tired to him. "You want some water, Miss… Sarah?"

She nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Jason."

Webb, standing so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, snidely pointed out, "Ah, the queen with her courtier. Poor kid better watch out or it’ll be off with his head."

"No. I’ll save that for you, knave."

He was shocked and just a little pleased by her banter. He was even more pleased by the fact that when she was done with the water bottle, she handed it to him. "Thanks."

Their eyes locked and neither looked away. "Why do you have to be such a bore all the time?"

Instead of responding in the way she expected, he smiled sadly. "It’s easier that way."

"Come on people," AJ kept her from having to respond. "I’d like to reach the first summit by nightfall." He glanced at Meredith. "You okay?" he asked more gently.

She rewarded him with a huge smile. "I can make it." She wouldn’t admit that her back was killing her or that her feet hurt, or than she was so sweaty her clothes were clinging in very inappropriate places. "I don’t suppose there’s a Fred Harvey around the next tree?"

AJ laughed softly. "Good Lord, I haven’t even thought about one of those places since before the war."

"Well, I travel by train a lot."

"Oh, really? Where do you go?"

"Oh, my, let me see. Chicago. Atlanta. My aunt lives in Sarasota, so I go there in the winter sometimes."

"Not much winter here."

"You like it here?"

AJ paused and looked down at her. The trail here was wide enough that they could walk side by side. There was a burning question in her eyes. She really wanted to know if he was happy here. "Happy enough, I suppose."

"Never want to go home?"

He shook his head. "No. I’m comfortable here."

"No family?"

"I have family." From anyone else he would’ve bitten off the answer, but he didn’t with her. He couldn’t understand why. "I have a sister in Austin." That should satisfy her.

"Texas? I’ve never been to Texas." She looked away. "I know I’m being awfully nosey. It’s just I can’t imagine what kind of… why did you come out here?"

In twenty years, he hadn’t explained his choice to anyone, not even Marcella. But then, in twenty years, no one had asked. One didn’t out here. But he suddenly felt the desire to explain his actions. "After the war, after I went back to teaching, I found that everything had changed. After seeing, causing so much death, how could I teach the poetry of Browning and Byron? I ran away. I found a woman who I thought would be happy with me. I thought I’d be Gauguin. Only, of course, I don’t paint. Never tried, really."

"Oh. A woman?" Meredith hoped the heat and humidity would explain her blush. "Uhm… what happened?" Oh goodness, why am I asking these questions? I’ve never been this prying before.

For a moment, neither thought he was going to answer but, finally, he sighed deeply, and picking up the pace, quickly said, "She left and took our daughter. She died two years later."

"Oh, my. Oh, AJ…. I…." She didn’t know what to say, so she grew silent again, letting him pull ahead of her.

They marched through the afternoon. The women’s breathing was becoming strained and audible. But still, AJ pushed on until it was late afternoon and the sun cast green shadows over everything.

Meredith thought she was going to pass out, for she didn’t want to show any weakness to them… to him. It was a matter of pride. She’d come out here for adventure, damn it! And suddenly she stopped and stared. "Oh, my God. Oh, AJ." Her voice was reverent, and AJ turned to see what had grabbed her attention.

At first he thought it was a ploy to stop and rest. "Oh, yeah. There’re a lot of orchids around here." But he saw the look of awe replacing the exhaustion on her face.

She stood there entranced. "It’s huge." It was bigger than her hand, white and purple, with a scarlet belly. She wrinkled her nose. "What’s that smell?"

"Ammonia." Jason and Sarah finally caught up to them. "From the ferns. There are probably a dozen more hiding behind the fronds there." He pointed to a stand of giant ferns that formed a wall on one side of the trail.

"It’s beautiful. What’s it called?"

Before Jason could answer, Webb stopped abruptly behind Sarah. "Paphiopedilum moquettianum. Can we go now?"

They all turned to stare at him. AJ nudged Jason to verify the answer. But the botanist could only gasp, "How did you know that?"

Webb snorted, but it was Meredith who answered. "I imagine you spent a lot of time in your father’s greenhouse growing up. You learned a lot."

Webb sighed. "Unfortunately. Frankly, give me a field of daisies any day. Are we going or not?"

"Bore." Sarah sniffed, but all it got her was a finger pointing up the trail.

"Unless you’re too tired?" he challenged her.

Jason looked from one to the other, his anger with Webb obvious. "We can rest if you want, S-Sarah."

"I’m fine," she snapped even as she pushed past poor Jason to walk with Meredith.

"How the hell do you do it?" she demanded once AJ was a few feet ahead and Jason was out of hearing range.

"Sheer stubbornness, I expect. Of course, one of my few pleasures back home is getting up at dawn and going to walk through the park. I walk at least thirty to forty blocks a day."

Sarah stared at her in wonder. "I’m lucky I can crawl out of bed in time to get into work. After we get back, I may sleep for a week; heck, a month."

Meredith nodded and watched the back of the man before them. She found herself blushing as she took in his physique. Oh, my.

Sarah followed Meredith’s gaze and her eyes widened in shock. "Mere!"

"Hush, dear. We need to concentrate if we’re going to make camp by night fall."

They sat around the fire, all of them so tired they could barely eat.

"So once we find Rabb, you WILL be returning to New York?" Webb said to Sarah sitting across from her, the small fire separating them.

"God, yes. And you?"

Webb studied her for a moment. "Why? Am I growing on you?"

Anger flashed in the flames reflected in her eyes. "Not likely, Mr. Webb. I just want to know if I have to ignore you when we get back."

Before Webb could respond, AJ barked, "We’ll set watch. I’ll take first, then Tom, Jason, and you last, Webb."

"Fine."

"Hey, what about us?" Sarah demanded.

"We’ll take care of it," AJ insisted.

"Stubborn men!" Sarah gritted out. However, she was sound asleep within moments of her head coming to rest upon her flexed arm.

Webb sat and watched her for a moment. It was incomprehensible to him what she’d done. She must be in love with Rabb something fierce. But what about Meredith? Was New York society just too cold to her after her divorce? She seemed a nice enough woman. She’s got a sharp tongue. AJ seems to take it in stride – most of the time. He happened to glance over at AJ, only to find him intently staring at the lady in question. Meredith was stretched out next to Sarah, but she wasn’t asleep. And damn him, Webb could see she was looking right back at AJ. Now there’s a match!

AJ had no idea what was happening. There was no way that he was going to feel anything for the woman so boldly meeting his intense appraisal. Give him the simple release of the girls in Port Moresby; they demanded nothing of him. She’s a society lady. I ran into enough of them back when I was teaching. There’s no way this old dog is falling for a new mistress at this late stage. It’s not going to happen.

Meredith felt her eyes grow heavy, and the last thing she remembered thinking was, I’m far too old to get involved with another man, particularly someone as crusty as AJ. I won’t allow it to happen. He has such gentle eyes.

Webb had no idea why he woke. He checked his watch and the illuminated dial showed that he was still a good hour away from the kid waking him for his turn at watch. He stretched and looked around to find where each person was; where she was. But it was darker than it should have been, only the dull glow from the dying embers and the pale light of the Coleman lantern they used if they needed to go into the jungle for privacy. The man on watch was supposed to make sure that the fire didn’t die out. On instant alert, he sat up. "Damn it," he muttered softly, not realizing that she’d heard him as she roused from her sleep unsure of why she was afraid.

Jason sat near the fire, his head resting on his knees. Webb was just about to nudge the boy when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement near the ground. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. "Snake!" he gasped, but not nearly as loud as Sarah screamed.

"Get it off me!" she cried, even as AJ and Webb scrambled toward her. Webb could see the thing had twined itself around her arm. He reached her first as she was scrambling, kicking at the heavy body not twisted around her arm. God, he couldn’t see the end of it. "Clay!" She cried again as she ineffectively tried to shake it off. It was so big she could barely move her arm. She arched her head back from its huge face coming ever closer to hers. "It’s, it’s squeezing me! Get it off!" Her voice swelled in panic and the jungle around them joined in the chorus. Monkeys screamed and the night exploded as a dozen different birds flapped their wings and joined the hue and cry.

Webb embraced her as AJ began to pull on the snake. "Shoot the damn thing!"

"And hit her!?" AJ gripped the snake’s mighty head. "Tom! Machete!"

"I’ve got it. Pull it away a little more."

Webb just barely realized what they were going to do. Taking Sarah’s head in his hands, he held her face to his chest. "Don’t look. I’ve got you."

She felt the blood soaking into her clothes, and she couldn’t help it, she started to scream louder still, though now her voice was muffled in Clay’s chest.

"Jesus!" Boone breathed. "Would you look at the size of that thing!?"

Webb could’ve killed the man. Sarah’s screams had been reduced to racking sobs. "It’s okay. Sarah, don’t cry. We killed it. Come on, sweetheart." He patted her head and pulled her tighter still.

Meredith knelt next to them. She wanted to take Sarah and comfort her, but she was dealing with her own revulsion. Even in the dark, she could make out the outline of the huge snake. Besides, she didn’t think Webb would release Sarah. Not yet. She turned her anger on AJ. "I thought you were going to set a guard!"

AJ was fighting his raging anger. "Whose turn was it?" He still hadn’t checked his watch. "Webb!"

Webb said nothing. He was feeling too guilty at the pleasure he was taking comforting Sarah. Even sweaty, she smells good. She feels good in my arms. Damn it! Everyone just go away. Just for a little while.

"Uhm… AJ?" Tom Boone began pulling the snake into the jungle. "It was the kid’s turn."

"Jason!" AJ’s bellow floated up into the air, once again scattering the animals. They heard a heavy rustling in the underbrush, normally a sign of an approaching boar or other large creature to be dealt with. However, Jason Tiner was nowhere to be found. "Fool boy! What the hell happened?"

Webb finally lifted his head from Sarah’s. "He was asleep when something woke me. The fire had died down and…" Sarah hugged his attention back to her.

AJ stood, fists on his hips. "Damn fool boy. What the hell is the matter with him?"

"Probably exhausted like the rest of us. He ran away because he’s afraid of what you’d say," Meredith gently told him. "He knows he’s failed you, and he didn’t want to face you. You’ll have to handle it very tactfully when we return."

"Tactfully! I’ll beat him to a…" Meredith’s hand on his arm calmed him. "Yeah, I guess I can understand why he ran away. Should’ve stayed and taken his punishment like a man."

"I know." Meredith sighed. Take it like a man. How many times had she heard the editors at the paper say that when they were yelling at some reporter for failing to get a story on time? She wasn’t sure if that was the right way to handle it or not. But it wasn’t her problem right now. Tom had thrown a couple of logs on the dying fire and light blazed up in the night. She saw the blood covering Sarah’s clothes. This was something she could handle. Standing up, she went to the small pack where they had placed one change of clothes each. Rummaging around, she found a clean shirt; and after a moment’s thought, pulled out the bra Sarah had also packed. Folding it up in the shirt, she turned. "Sarah?" Her friend seemed to bury herself deeper in Webb’s embrace. "Sarah!"

Webb kissed the top of her head. He didn’t think she’d felt it at first, but her crying stopped, and she finally looked up at him in surprise. Instantly he remembered he had to be hard. "You’re fine now. Snake’s dead. Everyone’s awake, and it’s time for you to stop." He said it firmly, brooking no argument. "Go with Meredith. You can change."

Tom Boone cleared his throat, and they all turned to look at him. In the firelight his face was a ruddy red of embarrassment. "Uhm… Miss MacKenzie… if you want to clean up, there’s a waterfall about fifty yards down the path."

Sarah didn’t want to move. She felt safe in Webb’s arms. She didn’t think she could stand the thought of any more animals.

Webb inwardly sighed. They needed to have her back to some semblance of the pushy female she’d been before faced with most women’s – hell most men’s – worst nightmare. God, he wasn’t a fan of snakes either, and that monster had been long. He was glad that Boone had pulled it into the jungle. "Come on, Sarah! Where’s you’re spirit of adventure? Don’t you want to save your boyfriend? You think he’d appreciate it if he found us like this?"

She jerked away from him. "You… you…"

"Bore?" he finished for her, the smirk twisting his mask even further.

She stood and glared down at him. "Mr. Boone!"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Would you mind showing me the way to this waterfall?"

"Not at all," he gulped.

Sarah grabbed the change of clothes. Tom grabbed up the lantern. "We’ll be right back." When Meredith started to follow, she held up her hand. "No. I’m fine. And I’m sure that Mr. Boone will be quite the gentleman. Unlike some." She didn’t bother to even look down at Webb. "Come along, Mr. Boone." Boone followed her, his teeth shining through his wide, proud smile.

Meredith stared down at the man still sitting on the ground. "Thank you, Mr. Webb."

"For what?" he snapped. He met her steady gaze. "You think you can read me, Meredith?" The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Like a book… Clay." She turned to AJ. "Well, sir? Shall we prepare breakfast and start at dawn?"

AJ had never met a woman like her. "Very well, madam. We’ll pack up and prepare to go on."

"AJ," Webb arched up off the ground. "Perhaps we can have Mr. Boone take the ladies back? If Palmer didn’t hear that commotion, it’s because he’s not on the island."

AJ jerked his head in the direction that Sarah and Tom had gone. "You going to be the one to suggest that to her? Besides, it’s a very large island, and it’s not completely unheard of for there to be overnight expeditions into the jungle. Our story stands." He looked at Meredith. "Unless you think you can talk her into going back for her own good."

"I couldn’t; wouldn’t." She tore her eyes away from him to look at Webb. "Are you going to change, too?"

He finally looked down to find that Sarah’s body hadn’t protected him entirely. Snake blood covered his pants and shirt. Sighing, he went to his own pack.

He made his way carefully along the path. Dawn was just starting to lighten the black sky overhead. The morning birds, already awoken by the commotion earlier were chattering and calling out to each other. It was for the best. She’d felt too good in his arms, but he didn’t need entanglements. Besides, she was out here looking for her boyfriend, and when they found him, she’d forget all about Clayton Webb, annoying spy and user of friends.

The sound of the waterfall became a roar. As he drew nearer, he arranged his face into the tight smirk that he knew she hated. So intent on preserving his mask, he didn’t see the huddled lump on the path in front of him.

"Oooof," he gasped as he rolled off the body. "What the hell?" He instinctively felt for a pulse point before rolling Tom Boone over. "Shit!" The heartbeat was there, thready but there. Standing, he reached for the gun he’d placed in his pocket. He ignored the wet fabric as he pulled it free. "Sarah!" His bellow echoed through the jungle. "Sarah!" His panic grew.

It only took a moment for AJ and Meredith to join him. "What’s happened?" AJ demanded even as Meredith sank next to the prone form of Boone. "Where’s Sarah?"

"I don’t know. I found him there!" Webb fought to keep the panic at bay. "It’s Palmer. It has to be."

"But why?" Meredith found the bump on the back of Boone’s head. Just touching it had the man groaning, struggling to wake. Thrashing on the ground, his actions pushed Meredith to her butt with a grunt. AJ reached down and hauled her to her feet. Together, they watched the man shake himself to consciousness.

"Where are they?" He demanded. "They… bastards. Didn’t give me a chance. Sarah?"

"She’s gone. What the hell happened!?" Webb demanded.

Boone shook his head to clear it. He felt woozy and figured he had some kind of concussion. Well, he’d had plenty of those before. His blurred vision would clear eventually, it always did. Now he was just mad. "They were waiting for us. Three of them. They put a knife to Sarah’s neck. I didn’t recognize any of them, but two looked like they were natives, the other one was a Jap. I’ll stake my life on that."

"But not Palmer?" AJ said.

"Probably in his pay. Damn it! Now what?" Webb demanded, the fear muting the aggravation in his voice.

Somewhere on Mt. Aita

Bougainville, New Guinea

February 23, 1938

Near Dawn

She knew better than to struggle with her captors. She only prayed that what she heard was true. She had no idea what her two native captors said to each other, but the Japanese, talking into a radio, informed someone that ‘we have the younger woman, we will bring her to you.’ She wasn’t about to let on that she understood what he was saying. She only prayed that Clay would find Boone alive.

The two natives kept a tight grip on her arms. She only vaguely feared a personal assault. She was certain that they were taking her where she wanted to be anyway. She just hoped that this Palmer was someone she could talk to. She would promise him anything, as long as Harm was released. She had little illusions as to her own worth, but she knew that Meredith could convince her father to pay a ransom. That’s what this had to be about, didn’t it? All this talk of white tigers and strife in China and the South Seas was just camouflage for the real issue. In all her years as a reporter she’d learned that for all the talk of territory and dominance, it usually all boiled down to money. If it wasn’t money, then she knew they were doomed.

It was bright by they time they reached the small encampment. The orchids here were crushed and dying, the men obviously immune to their fragile beauty. She spotted him immediately. He wore a large pith helmet that covered much of his head. He was the only white man present. Her eyes searched frantically for her friend.

"He’s not here, Miss MacKenzie." Clark Palmer offered her his best grin.

She shuddered at the visage before here. Nothing on the streets of New York had exuded the evil she felt in that smiling mask. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"

"Done? Why, all I’ve done is tried to help him. But I fear he’s hurt and unable to respond."

"Please don’t hurt him. I can get you money."

Palmer threw back his head and laughed. "Can you now? How much?"

"How much do you want?"

"All of Fort Knox, my dear. Do you think he’s worth it? Miss Austin thought so. She let me beat her, let me do other things to her, too, and never once told me where he was hiding." Palmer’s face darkened. "Little bitch was stronger than I thought. She escaped. She ran from me." His eyes shifted to the tent, then back to Sarah. "But I tracked her down again. Found her even when she thought she was safe in that hospital. I took care of her. Now it’s time to find Rabb. And you’re going to help me find him."

"Go to hell."

She’d been slapped before. Her father used to beat her regularly. She knew just how to react. She gasped and cried out. She knew that presenting a determined face would just make it worse. There was no need for that. "Please don’t hit me again."

"Oh, my dear, I’ll hit you as much as I want." To prove the point, he struck her three times more. "You see, I know everything about you. My friends are everywhere." Once again, Sarah saw him look at the tent. She thought she saw some kind of movement behind the flap, but couldn’t make out the person there. "They do what I tell them to. Don’t they, Taro?"

The man grunted, but said in Japanese, "Just get on with it. We want to find Rabb and discover what he knows. He’s too valuable to us for this to go on any further."

"Don’t tell me how to do my job!" Palmer snapped back in the same language. He switched to English. Obviously, he didn’t know everything about her, after all. "Is that obsequious little pencil pusher with you? Nelson said he was coming. Webb thinks he knows what’s going on. He’ll try and talk me out of killing you and Rabb. Fool. He’s such an eager little puppy, always listening, always gathering information that no one in your government wants to hear. He’s a regular Cassandra, crying in the wilderness." Palmer looked up and switched to Japanese again. "Make sure that the trap is set. Mr. Webb is beginning to bore me."

Sarah bit her tongue. She wanted so badly to lash out. Instead, she drew on the only skills she had. "Who are you, Palmer? What’s your story? Why are you doing this?" Appeal to their vanity. She’d never met a mob boss who didn’t want to talk about himself.

Palmer hit her again, and she could taste the blood as it coursed down her throat. "Shut up, pretty Sarah. You’ll do what I say, when I say it, understand?"

This she understood all too well. She shuddered and remembered what her father had demanded. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl." His hand caressed her neck, then came to rest over her breast. She cringed at the touch. "Perhaps when I find Mr. Rabb, you and I will spend an entertaining night together. Perhaps we’ll let Mr. Rabb watch – before I kill you both." And she knew all was lost. She knew there was nothing she could say or do. So she lashed out, raising her knee into his groin.

He screeched in pain, and the two guards were so surprised that they released her to go to him. She couldn’t believe it, but she took off blindly into the forest. She had no idea which way she was going, towards Clay or away, but she let out one long scream, "It’s a trap!" before stumbling farther into the dark green rainforest.

"Find her!" Palmer’s cry joined the cacophony.

And still she ran, pushing fronds and plants out of her way. A spider nearly halted her passage but she boldly swiped it away, vaguely wondering if it was poisonous. A snake lay across her path and she jumped over it. Please let me find Clay. He’ll protect me. Please let me…

A hand shot out and grabbed her, pulling her into the jungle. She turned and started to fight her attacker. And she froze.

"Easy, Sarah. It’s me." Harmon Rabb stood there for a moment to let her recognize him. It was a testament to their long friendship that she could.

"Harm?" The man before her could’ve fooled his mother. His face, covered with a full beard, was shrunken. But the blue eyes were clear and full of fight, though she could tell he was in pain. "Oh, Harm." She embraced him tightly, feeling how much weight he’d lost.

"We have to be quiet. We have to make it back to the cave."

"Cave? What?" But she let him lead her farther into the rainforest, past the thick Gaharu trees. She caught sight of a large boar eyeing them, and she moved closer still.

"Here it is. Get inside. We can hide here."

She nearly gagged from the stench. "How long have you been here?"

"I’ve lost track of time. I hide during the day. They have more and more men searching for me. I know Sarah. I know what they’re planning."

"What?"

The Japs are going to take over the entire Pacific. Everything. China isn’t enough for them. They want it all. They hope they can force England into giving up Australia! They’re insane."

Not so insane, Sarah thought. They took over China. Why not Australia? And if not Australia, everything else. "We have to get back. Clay needs to know this."

"Clay? Who?"

"He’s with the State Department." She was beginning to suspect he was something more, but she didn’t need to go into that now with Harm.

"Bunch of paper pushers. They don’t care. They want to stay out of it."

"Clay knows that." She shuddered at the dampness of the cave. "Harm, we have to get out of here. We have to find AJ and Meredith and…"

"Meredith? Meredith who?"

"Cavanaugh. I forgot, you’ve been gone so long."

"Tommy’s daughter? That bastard Teddy Lindsay’s wife?"

"Ex-wife. Not now, Harm. We have to get help."

"Too tired." His voice suddenly lost its timbre, as if the rush of adrenaline left as quickly as it had come. "I shouldn’t have gone out, but I heard the men talking. Can’t understand most of it, but I heard your name." He grunted in pained humor. "They really butcher MacKenzie, but I got the gist of it. I had to see if it was true. You came after me. I can’t believe you came after me."

She could tell that he was bordering on delirious. He seemed to recognize the fact, too. "Are you really here, Sarah?" he said softly.

"I’m here." She knew she had to keep him awake. She was afraid of what might happen if he passed out on her. "So tell me, what mischief have you been getting into so far from home?"

"Lots. Gee, I hope Meg’s okay."

It broke her heart. She couldn’t tell him. Maybe Palmer was lying. How could he have found her in the hospital? But she asked. "Tell me about Meg. How did you meet her?"

"In China, near the bridge. We both almost died together. We ran through most of the country, hiding in deserted barns. Those damn Japs. They’ll kill anything that moves if it’s not wearing a Jap uniform. Thought about stealing a couple but none of them would’ve fit me anyway. Tried to get Meg to do it, but her hair…" Sarah could tell he was drifting in and out of awareness. "So pretty. The sun would make it shine. Meg…"

"Harm? Harm? Oh, God. Don’t do this to me." She knelt closer and he jerked at her touch, grabbing her wrist, hurting her. "Harm! It’s me. Sarah."

"Sarah? What’re you doing here?" He said it as if he hadn’t saved her from her pursuers, like this was the first time he’d seen her in six months. "Got to get out of here."

"I know. We’ll wait until dark. Make our way down the hill. I saw you limping. How bad?"

"Not infected. Should be. Hurts like hell. That bastard Palmer got me. I don’t think he knew it was me that got Meg away from him. Got her to a boat. God, I hope she’s okay."

Palmer had to be lying to her. She wouldn’t accept a word that man said. "She’s in a hospital in Port Moresby."

"Moresby. She made it Moresby?"

"A fisherman found her."

"Oh, no." He started for the mouth of the cave. "Have to get to her. If that bastard Nelson knows she’s in Port Moresby… he’s in Palmer’s pocket."

"Harm. Calm down, there’s nothing we can do right now. We’ll wait until…"

Just then, even muffled by the rainforest and the cave, they heard the explosion of gunfire tearing up the jungle. There were shouts and screams of pain. "Stay here." She didn’t give him a chance to argue, but scuttled out of the cave on her hands and knees. God, please let Meredith and AJ and Clay be all right. Please don’t let anything bad happen to Harm.

Twenty years washed away as AJ led the four of them through the jungle. This was nothing like the battlefields of France, but the instincts that had kept him alive there in the muddy trenches returned. "You know if they were waiting for you, Tom, or did they just get lucky?"

Gingerly, Boone touched his head, cringing at the pain. He wouldn’t tell them that he was seeing two of everything. He just focused on a spot somewhere between Meredith number two and Webb number one, and prayed he didn’t trip over a branch or rock lying in the trail. "Not sure. Sorry."

"You gonna make it?" AJ demanded softly.

"Hey, you know this head is as thick as the mountain."

Webb ignored the two men. He was berating himself for letting Sarah out of his sight. Meg was hurt because of him, and to what end? She should’ve never followed Palmer back from Hawaii. She should’ve asked for instructions. God, he hoped Galindez never left her side. He shook his head trying to clear the image of Meg lying there, looking so frantic as she told the tale of tracking Palmer. Of Palmer capturing her, of her escape and Rabb putting her in the boat, then running back into the jungle to lure them away from her. They would find Sarah, find Rabb, get them both back to where they belonged, and then he’d be through with it. He would finish Palmer on his own.

"Webb, watch where you’re going!" AJ hissed in his ear. "Snap out of it. We’ll find her."

Webb jerked away but focused on what needed to be done. They crouched behind a stand of ferns when a group of natives pushed through the forest. They lay on the ground while several men stood and talked quietly. It wasn’t until dusk had settled in that they dared stand again.

"Did you understand what they said?" Webb asked.

AJ nodded but it was Boone who translated. "Didn’t get it all but it’s a trap. They say that the Tiger was furious because he can’t find Sarah. She must’ve escaped."

"That’s my girl." Webb didn’t think that they’d heard him, but Meredith touched his arm gently, and in the fading light he saw her gentle smile. He turned away, furious with his show of emotion. No more.

"Now what?" Meredith asked, unwilling to be a silent member of this group. Sarah was her friend – and employee. She owed it to the younger woman to find her and get her home.

"Now we make our way to the camp," AJ said.

Carefully, they followed the noises that Palmer’s men were making. AJ understood the native lingo fairly well, and he could tell that, while they feared Palmer, their hearts weren’t in the search. One man told another that the money wasn’t worth it, that he wanted to be home with his wife and children. Some things were universal. Finally, they came upon an encampment. There was only one tent, but several fires glowed in the clearing.

"Now what?" Tom asked.

Webb had already made up his mind. He knew how Palmer perceived him. Fine and good. "Now we see what he wants. Just listen and see if you can find Sarah." Before any of them could stop him, he stood and parted the undergrowth. "Mr. Palmer? Mr. Clark Palmer?"

AJ had to grab Meredith to keep her from joining the man. Damn him! He pulled her to him and put his hand over her mouth, just in case. He needn’t have bothered. She immediately relaxed into his embrace as if realizing her folly moments before he’d pulled her back. Carefully, he removed his hand and his grip but she stayed where she was, and together, they watched through the undergrowth. Boone stretched out next to them to wait.

God, he hoped this worked. "Mr. Palmer?" he called again. Several of the natives who’d been talking around the fire or standing guard began to jabber and point at him. Damn, another language he’d have to study – if he lived.

"Well, well. Mr. Webb." Palmer came out of his tent, a huge grin on his face. "What brings you to my little part of the world? Really. When was the last time we met?"

"Germany, at the Olympics, then at Rudolph Hess’ party." Webb didn’t bring up Bucharest.

"Of course." Palmer’s voice hardened. "However, as I asked, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to find a foolish woman." Webb sighed extravagantly. "It’s all part of the job now. Playing escort to rich tourists and nosy reporters. This one and her boss are particularly troublesome. We lost her somewhere on the trail. I sent the rest of the party back."

"Did you indeed?" Palmer eyed him carefully. His smile barely reached his lips. His eyes remained cold and evil. "So Mr. Chegwidden and Mr. Boone took Miss Cavanaugh back the way you came?"

Webb swallowed. How he answered now would be important, and he knew it. "Well, I… I asked them to leave. I didn’t really wait around for an answer. Look, this is my responsibility. Mr. Nelson put me in charge of them, now one has up and walked away. I have to find her."

"Walked away? From you? Silly woman. You let her get away?"

Damn him. He’s good at this game. Webb played fawning well. It no longer bothered him really, but he thought that Palmer was laughing at him for a whole different set of reasons. "Look, have you seen her? Chegwidden said that this is all your land and…"

Palmer cut him off. "Why would this Miss MacKenzie come and see me?"

Webb shrugged. "Mine is not to question why. I go where Mr. Nelson sends me."

"Are you making your underling baby sit tourists, Alexander?" Palmer asked quietly. The tent flaps were pushed back, and Alexander Nelson stepped out into the camp. Webb kept his face perfectly still. He was in deep trouble now.

"Mr. Webb." Nelson couldn’t keep the wicked smile off his face. "Caught in a bare-faced lie. Well, no matter. We’ll find the girl and Rabb, and then kill you all. And to make sure that there’s no trail, I’ll make sure that there’s a horrible accident at that old fool’s…"

"Shut UP!" Palmer snapped and Nelson instantly deflated.

However, the pompous little man couldn’t keep from one last dig at Webb. "I killed your little friend back at Moresby, her body guard, too."

And Webb believed him completely. "NO!" He no longer cared about himself. He dove for Nelson, and as he struck the man around the middle, hurling them both back over a blazing fire and into the tent, he heard the gunfire begin.

Sarah crept through the forest ever closer to the increasingly frantic sounds of battle. She’d heard the shouts long before the gunfire began. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she knew she had to get help for Harm. She knew she had to find Clay and make sure he was okay. She was almost upon the camp, when she was, once again, seized from behind. At first, she thought it was Harm, but it was a warm Spanish lilt that said, "What are you doing out here?" She stiffened and he continued, softly, as if to a child. "Do not worry, our fight is not with women. You will wait here, please."

She looked up to find a furious face, so different from the voice. "Who are you?"

"Victor Galindez, Miss. I am here to avenge the murder of a young woman."

"Who?" Sarah demanded.

"Megan Austin."

Sarah’s hand went to her lips, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. "Oh, God. Clay…"

"You know Mr. Webb?"

"Yes. He was with me before Clark Palmer…"

"You will stay here, Miss. I will find Clark Palmer and his pet dog, Nelson, and kill them both."

Before she could stop him, he and several other men, obviously native by their looks, pushed past. Galindez carried a rifle; the rest carried very vicious looking machetes.

AJ knew it was hopeless. He and Tom began firing from their cover as Webb ran into Nelson. But the forest seemed to swell with Palmer’s men, and it was only a matter of time before they were found. He had no idea where Sturgis was, or if the man would even find this camp. It wasn’t where he’d sent them. He kept firing but said, "Tom. Get her back. Take her through the forest towards Mabiri. Bobbi will hide you."

"I’m not leaving you!" Meredith said fiercely.

He and Tom shot two more guards, and he could see Palmer, crouching behind a rock, was already honing in on their position. He grabbed her behind the neck and she was so surprised she didn’t fight him. And when he kissed her roughly, she kissed him right back. Pushing her into Tom, he rasped out, "Do as I say. I have a better chance without worrying about a woman and a man who can’t see to shoot."

"Hey, I hit that guy."

"Meredith, please." AJ turned back.

"There!" Palmer shouted, pointing directly at AJ. AJ and Tom emptied their guns but finally, Palmer’s men surrounded them. All three were roughly dragged before Palmer and forced to their knees. Several men had pulled Webb off Nelson, but they were too late to save Nelson from his fate. Palmer walked over and nudged the dead body with his foot. "Broken neck. You fight dirty for a paper pusher, Webb."

"Just lucky, I guess." He braced himself but still landed hard after Palmer punched him. He tasted blood and could feel that he was going to loose a tooth. Not that it mattered now. He struggled against the two men who grabbed him off the ground.

"Hold him still." Palmer sighed and raised his pistol. "Frankly, Webb, you just aren’t worth the trouble." Webb braced himself, only to hear the bullet seconds before Palmer’s chest seemed to explode out, splattering them with blood and bone. Several men fired into the forest, but most, seeing that their leader and paymaster was dead, fled the scene, leaving shouting chaos behind them. Webb, free of his captors, froze in place.

"Clay!" Her voice rang out and she dashed into the camp.

"Sarah! No!" He waited for her to die, but the men following her scared off the rest of their captors. She fell into his arms, pushing them both off balance. All he could do was hold her tight as she sobbed into his neck. "There, there. It’ll be okay now." And he vowed that he would make it okay. If he did nothing else in his life, he would make sure she was safe.

AJ helped Meredith to her feet, and wasn’t surprised to find her hugging him tight. He let his arms lightly hold her. "Woman, you’re going to be the death of me. Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?"

There was no answer for it, so all she did was lift her face to him, and he found himself falling into her enchanting eyes. His lips found hers and he held her.

Webb looked up to see Galindez standing there, surveying the scene. Palmer’s body lay off to the side, Nelson’s, charred and smoldering where it had landed in the fire pit, , was in a heap. The two men’s gazes met and held. "What happened?" Webb’s voice was cold and hard, and even Sarah backed away in surprise.

"Nelson came in, saying he had a note from you and wanted to give it to her. He told me to get a cup of coffee, that it wasn’t for me to hear." His voice, too, was hard, damning himself for his culpability. "I was only gone for a moment, it didn’t feel right, but by the time I returned, he was pulling the pillow off her face. I tried to attack him, but he shot me."

"You look well enough to me!" Webb growled. Pushing Sarah even further away, he stood and stalked up to Galindez. "Where did he…" he stopped as Galindez pulled up his shirt. There was a square of gauze at his side, red with blood. "Shit! You’ve opened the stitches."

"It’s no matter." He kicked Palmer’s body again. "I have avenged her death."

"It wasn’t a fair trade."

Sarah stood. "Oh, God! Harm!"

"We’ll find him, Sarah," Webb said wearily. "If he’s still…"

"He’s alive. I found him. Or he found me. He’s in a cave."

Daughters of Charity Hospital

Port Moresby

February 27, 1938

Harmon Rabb lay on the bed, his face averted from the rest of the ward. He was alive, but Meg was dead, and he didn’t know how he was going to deal with that. He should’ve protected her. Instead, he sent her back to Nelson. Why hadn’t they saved her? Why had he survived and she had died? Galindez wouldn’t even talk to him. The guilt was written all over the man’s face. Rabb wondered if the fisherman had been in love with Meg. She’d been a strange girl, even on the run, she’d kept up with him; never complained.

Who would’ve thought Sarah had turned out so much like Meg. Oh sure, she was good in New York covering crime scenes, but there the cops all protected her. But had come half way around the world to save him. If it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve just died in that cave, too weak, too hallucinatory to make it out on his own.

He rubbed his hand over his now smooth jaw. He could feel the hollows in his cheeks.

"Hey?" Sarah’s voice was tentative and he finally turned to face her.

"Hi." He managed it but he wished he hadn’t tried. He wished she wasn’t there looking like that. He knew she loved him. But after Meg… after he’d let Meg die like that.

Sarah watched him for a long time and something broke inside her. He really loved that girl. He’s hurting so bad. "I wish I could make the pain go away, Harm." There were tears in her voice, and she hated the look that they brought to his face. "I… I don’t know what to say."

"Hey. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine."

"No! It was Palmer’s."

"Well, at least he’s dead."

Sarah watched, unable to break the news to him. Is he? Is Palmer dead? Where’s his body then? Oh, God!

She remembered the fury on Clay’s face, once they’d returned to the camp after finding Harm. He’d ranted and raved, and would’ve killed one of Palmer’s henchmen had AJ not ripped the gun from his hand. "You saw him, Webb! He probably crawled off somewhere to die. We’ll find his body, if the boars and the rats don’t get to him first."

Only Sarah wasn’t so sure. Galindez wasn’t happy about it either, and he had the men who'd made up his attacking force search as best they could, but night fell and they had to get Rabb to a hospital, and then Tom Boone had passed out. They still weren’t sure about him, even now.

She left Harm to walk over to the other side of the ward where Tom rested. The doctors had said his concussion was severe, and they just weren’t sure if he would come out of the coma or not. She sighed. So much guilt to go around. She didn’t want to leave but she had to get Harm out of here. His leg wound needed more attention if he was going to regain full use of it. She was just waiting for Clay to come and tell her when they could leave.

She didn’t want to think about Clay. It would do her no good. She’d seen that when he’d pushed her away there in the camp. After that one embrace, he’d made sure that someone was always between them. She wanted to talk to him, tell him she was sorry for his friend’s death. Thank him for helping her. Just hold him and take away some of his pain. But he was being a stubborn fool, and she knew she couldn’t get through to him.

Once they returned to Port Moresby, leaving AJ to soothe the magistrate and explain the best he could, Webb had assumed the duties of consul on the island, putting yet another wall between them. The wall’s name was Kate Pike, and she was a cool, haughty beauty who religiously guarded Webb’s inner sanctum. "I’m sorry, Miss MacKenzie, he’s unavailable right now." Frankly, Sarah didn’t trust her one little bit. But she wondered if it was just jealousy on her part. No, it was because the woman had worked for Nelson. That was the only reason. Of course it was.

"Sarah?"

She turned to find Meredith still dressed in slacks and a shirt, standing there. Sarah admired Meredith’s gumption. After the glare the sisters gave them their first day back, Sarah had dutiful dressed in one of her traveling suits, making sure that the seams of her stockings were perfectly straight. Meredith had just blithely ignored the looks. "I’ve got our travel papers. Clay said we can take the seaplane back to Fiji, then… well, you know what’s ahead of us."

"I know. But it will be better for Harm. We need to get him home."

Meredith just nodded. "Well, I’ll meet you at the dock tomorrow."

Tomorrow. They would be gone, starting the trip back across the world. Back to New York and civilization. Back to safety, or the illusion of safety.

"Sarah?"

"I’m right here, Harm."

"I have to write my story. I have to tell the world."

"I know, Harm."

"Will you help me?"

"You know I will."

"You’re a good friend."

"Thanks, Harm. Listen. I have to go and pack for the flight. You need anything?"

"Me?" He eyes turned misty and she knew he was thinking about Meg again. "No. I just want to leave."

She walked out into the humidity and heat. This she wouldn’t miss. She’d never felt so alive as she had here, but she would never complain about New York in August again. . She wouldn’t miss the bugs the size of small pets. She found herself not at her hotel, but at the building holding the consul’s office. Nodding to the guard, she walked inside and up the steps.

"I’m sorry, Miss MacKen… Hey! You can’t go in there." Sarah pushed past the gate and the watchdog keeping her from Clay. She opened the door to find him at the desk, writing on a pad. He looked up and grimaced when he saw her.

However, when Kate Pike grabbed her shoulder, he growled. "Never mind, Kate, I’ll handle Miss MacKenzie."

"Very good, sir." Kate slammed the door with force.

Webb leaned back in his chair and studied her. She glared at him, hands on her hips. "You’ll handle me?"

"What do you want, Sarah?" He sighed. "I’m busy here. I have to catch up on everything that Nelson touched, and mangled."

"You expect me to believe that you’re the new consul? You know I think I’ve figured it out. Do you even work for the State Department, really?"

"Yes! And, I am the new consul here, until they can find some poor sucker dumb enough to take the post." They both knew it was a bit of the truth. They both knew that his replacement was probably already on the next flight out. They both knew that this was the way it had to be.

"What next?"

He just shrugged.

"You trust her?" He looked genuinely confused until she jerked her thumb to the outer office. "Della Street out there."

He tried to keep it bottled up but he found himself shaking with laughter. "Oh Lord, Sarah. I’m no Perry Mason. And as for Miss Pike? Yes, I trust her. She had no way of knowing that Nelson was in cahoots with Palmer, or if he was, that there was anything wrong with that. Palmer presented himself as a plantation owner, pure and simple." He grew serious. "I’m good at what I do, Sarah. You’ll have to trust my judgment."

She knew she could throw Meg Austin’s death in his face, but she wouldn’t. According to what Harm had told them, it was Meg who insisted upon going after Palmer after seeing him in the Honolulu airport. ‘We were so close to home. We’d been together for so long evading the Japs, getting out of Indochina. God. So close, and now she’s dead.’ If Sarah didn’t know him so well, she would swear that Harm’s lust for adventure was cured but she did know him. Too well. And she knew that all he needed was some tender-loving care, and that he’d expect her to give it to him. And then, he’d expect her to go back to being just friends. She studied the man before her and silently prayed. One word, Clay. Once word from you and I’ll send him home with Meredith.

They stared at each other for a long time. Before he cleared his throat and picked up his pen. "I really do need to get back to this."

"Will you at least see us off at the airport? You’re the consul here." The bitterness made her voice harsh, and he narrowed his eyes in some emotion she couldn’t begin to read. "Of course, Miss MacKenzie. That’s what bureaucrats do."

It was Sarah’s turn to slam the door. She stopped for a moment to give Kate Pike a long appraising look. "He’s a good guy. I hope you know that."

"We’ll see," Kate replied, never looking up from her typewriter.

Sarah returned to the hotel to find Meredith already packing up their suitcases. "Well, I bet you’re anxious to get home. What say we plan on 21 – after about a week of sleep!" Sarah said with enthusiasm she didn’t feel.

Meredith didn’t bother to answer, just kept on folding clothes. "Can you believe it? I can’t."

"Believe what? That we found Harm? I thought that was always the plan." Sarah pulled open the drawer and began to throw clothes into the suitcases that had been unpacked for all of three days. "Pity we can’t kick his butt. But I guess that would be poor sportsmanship."

"I suppose."

"Mere?"

"I’m fine Sarah, you?"

"Oh, yeah. I’m fine. All I want is a bath, a long bath, a long bubble bath, dinner at 21, then back to the grindstone of murder and mayhem. It’ll seem almost like a vacation."

"Yeah. You’ve got something and someone to go back to."

"I do? Harm? I don’t know, Mere."

"Oh, you two will work it out."

"Yeah, I guess."

They dined together but neither spoke more than a couple of words. They stopped by the hospital to check on Harm, who didn’t bother to acknowledge them after a brief, ‘hello.’ They were both pleased that Boone finally came out of his coma, though he was groggy and his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. The doctor was concerned about permanent damage. "The man’s been hit in the head too many times; it takes its toll you know."

Returning to the hotel, they silently went to bed, both lost in their own thoughts. The morning came far too soon, and they silently prepared to leave. The ambulance met them at the hotel and, as Sarah was preparing to climb in back with Harm, a car pulled up and Webb stepped out and gazed at her. "Morning. I’m here to escort you to the dock, fulfill my duty. You’re riding with him?"

"Yes," she snapped. Meredith looked from one to the other, and then gently nudged Sarah inside, closing the door behind her. "I’ll ride with you, Clay."

"Sure." He held the door for her then pulled in front of the ambulance, leading the way to the small dock where they would board the seaplane for the first of many hops back to the mainland.

He seemed lost in his own dark thoughts, as evidenced by the way he jumped at Meredith’s question. "Things are happening out here, aren’t they?"

He concentrated for a while, avoiding the local traffic of oxen-pulled carts and the bicycle powered taxis that vied with the motorized variety. "Yes. Things are beginning to happen out here."

"That’s why you’re sending her away?"

"I’m sending her away because I don’t have time to watch out for her. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here."

"Are we going to war?"

"God, I hope not." He said it with no real conviction.

"How long?"

He finally stole a quick glance at her. "Your father probably knows better than I."

"Why do you say that?"

"Your father, like a lot of newspapermen, has buried a number of stories coming out of Europe. Ask him."

"What about here? What about what Palmer was trying to do?"

"Palmer’s dead." As dead as his voice? He hoped so. He pulled through the gates of the marina, waving to the bored guard on duty. The ambulance was waved through, as was the taxi carrying their luggage.

Sarah climbed out and stood as the driver and the attendant carried Rabb’s stretcher on board. "He’ll be okay sitting up for ten hours?" Webb asked the attendant.

"Not much choice, unless he wants to wait for the boat."

Meredith went to talk to the taxi driver about their bags, leaving Sarah standing there next to Clay.

"Well, Miss MacKenzie."

"Stop it, damn you!" She gripped his arm. "Damn you straight to hell, Clayton Webb."

He closed his eyes in pain. "Sarah." But whatever else he was going to say was cut off by her lips on his. For a moment, he thought to fight it, but he gave in, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. One time. One time, he would give in to his need for her. And he had come to accept that he needed her. He also knew that the only way to keep her safe was to let her go. But for just this one time, he would hold her to him and pretend that it was just a momentary goodbye.

She pulled back from him, the tears coursing down her face. "Please, Clay."

He wiped away her tears with his thumbs, lingering to memorize the feel of her skin. He was glad he’d avoided touching her skin before now. He knew he was lost. "You have to go, Sarah. You can’t come with me." He kissed her nose. "Hell, I don’t even know where I’ll be next week. You don’t want to stay here. There’s nothing for you."

"I could…" her voice trailed off and he pulled her to him for one last long delving kiss. And she felt his desperation, knew that she had to be brave for him.

"Go home, Sarah. Go home and take good care of Rabb, and watch out for Meredith. They need your strength."

"But you don’t."

How could he tell her? "No, I don’t." With that, he dropped his arms and quickly walked back to the car. Sarah, almost blinded by her tears stumbled up the gangway. She saw Harm seated in one of the seats on the aisle, drugged and sound asleep. She gingerly climbed over him, and after strapping in, turned away to look out the window. She had a view of the harbor. At least she wouldn’t have to watch him drive away.

They were in the air and over the ocean before she turned to find Meredith. "Mere?" She stood. There were only six other seats on the plane. "Meredith!?"

"Ma’am?" The co-pilot came back to find out what was wrong.

"Where is she? Did you forget her?"

"The older lady?" He held out an envelope. "She said to give you this when you noticed she wasn’t here."

"Oh, God. Oh, dear God." Sarah’s hand trembled as she broke the seal. "Oh, Meredith, what have you done?"

Dear Sarah,

I know that this is the coward’s way out. I should’ve said something back at the hotel. I should’ve said goodbye at the harbor. But if you’re reading this, then I didn’t. I’m not going back. You have a life back there. You have a job and people who need you. All I have is a mother who’s embarrassed by my status and a father who doesn’t understand that I want to be a part of his work. Maybe from out here I can make him understand. I’m sorry to make you the messenger. I should’ve sent him a letter too, but I only had time for one. Tell him I’ll start cabling stories. I’m sure there are dozens out here. Who knows, maybe your Mr. Webb will give me an exclusive when he tracks down the White Tiger. God, I hope it’s just a matter of finding that bastard’s bones. Take care of Harmon. He needs you now. Enjoy your bubble bath and lift a toast to me at 21 – even if it is in soda water.

Love,

Meredith Cavanaugh

The Sun

Bureau Chief – Southeast Asia

(Won’t father have a fit!)

"Meg!" Harm groaned in his seat, and he reached out and found her hand.

She closed her eyes and willed the tears away. "It’s Sarah, Harm. Everything will be okay now."

Sturgis Turner warily stepped inside the bar, unsure of the boss’s mood. For the past week, the man had been in as bad a mood as he could remember, sending him out once again to see if they could find Palmer’s body. Sturgis and his group had finally found them, miles away from where they’d originally planned. However, once everything died down, it was hard to find men willing to waste the time to look for a man so badly injured that he must be dead. The jungle wasn’t kind to the weak.

Jason Tiner never returned to the bar. Sturgis knew where he was, but when he broached the subject of the boy’s status, AJ had snapped, "We’ll see once he has the courage to come and face me." Sturgis wasn’t sure if AJ knew who was sheltering the boy. But he prided himself on his innate intelligence; he didn’t bring it up again.

He found AJ at the bar going over the records. "Boss? Tom’s coming home today?"

AJ didn’t bother to look up. "That’s what I understand from the magistrate. Webb cabled, said he was putting him and another passenger on the Goose."

"Well, that’s good. You think he’ll be okay in that shack of his?"

AJ finally met his manager’s gaze. "I’m not a nursemaid, Mr. Turner. Mr. Boone will do well on his own or he should stay in the hospital!"

Another bad day. Sturgis sighed and went to check the inventory. He was just coming in when he stopped and stared. Harriet Roberts was tentatively making her way up the steps to the bar. Sturgis couldn’t remember ever seeing her inside. Usually, she stood at the door and told her husband she wanted him home. But now, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. She paused, as if waiting for the devil himself to address her, and when he didn’t, she carefully made her way to the bar. AJ looked up from his books and stood there. For over a week, anger had been his only emotion, now he was just stunned.

"Do you perhaps have something… not alcoholic?" she asked quietly.

"Uhm… sure. I have Grape Nehi. Ja… I had someone who liked it."

"Yes, I know. Jason told me." She smiled at him sadly. "He feels so bad. He’s just waiting at our house…"

"Roberts knew where he was?" AJ’s anger returned full blast.

"No! Bud’s been gone most of the time. Besides, I knew I couldn’t tell him. He would run to you." Harriet reached out her hand and grasped AJ’s. He was so shocked by her touch he couldn’t move. "Please. He cried in my arms. He’s so angry with himself. He has no excuse to offer, but he’s so afraid of you. Please. Can’t you make this better? If not for Jason… for me? If you can bring yourself to understand how a boy could fall asleep when he shouldn’t… it’s not like… please?"

He saw it in her eyes. Perhaps she’d been waiting all this time for the right moment to offer her friendship. Perhaps she, too, came to understand that a momentary lapse in judgment could have long-lasting consequences. He took a deep breath. "Send him in this afternoon. I have plants that need to be found."

The roar of the plane overhead broke their eye contact, and she brought the warm soda to her lips. "This would be better cold."

"I’ll see what I can do about getting that refrigerator fixed – if you’ll make it a practice to come in and order it. Jason actually likes it warm."

She gave an exaggerated shudder. "It must be because he’s afraid to tell you his preference. No one can like this warm."

She took the time to study the bar and its patrons. "This is really much nicer than I thought," she finally admitted. "I think it might be nice to wait for Buddy here sometimes. I don’t suppose you cook?"

"Me? Sturgis makes sandwiches and breakfast. That’s it."

"Pity. You could have a regular restaurant here."

Suddenly, AJ wasn’t sure if having Harriet Roberts’ goodwill was such a good idea after all. He was happy with the way things were. He was too old to change, damn it! However, before he could make a comment, he heard Bud Roberts’ voice. "I’m not sure, ma’am. There might be a shack down on the beach. How long are you staying?"

AJ looked up to find Meredith Cavanaugh standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked and he barely heard her response. "Oh, I’ll not stay here permanently. Just occasionally. As long as I’m welcome."