British Invasion

Chapter 2

The girl pulled the MG to a stop in the empty car park, shut the engine off and leaned back with a deep breath of tainted relief. The Packard was gone and that usually meant a mission. She tried to muster up the energy to get out of the vehicle. Two hours from London was a long way to drive with a clutch when she had a wound on her leg. It figured Actor wasn't around when she needed him.

Making herself move, she got out and limped up the steps. Terry opened the front door and walked inside. A glance in the empty common room and closed office door told her that the missing Packard did mean the men were gone, and the wound on her leg would have to wait for Actor to return. She turned her head back and barely stifled a start as she found a man standing by the corner to the dining room, watching her silently with a smile. He was as tall as Chief and thin to the point of skinny, wearing a crisply pressed British uniform complete with cap. The thin lipped smile was beneath a hawk's beak of a nose, small eyes and big ears. The switchblade had immediately dropped into her hand behind her.

"Who are you?" asked Terry cautiously.

"Sgt. Maj. Rawlins, Miss Teresa," the man replied cheerfully.

Terry's skepticism was rapidly turning to concern. Why was there a British non-con in the empty Mansion? "Uh, is there a problem here, Sgt. Major?" she asked slowly.

"Oh, no, Miss, no problem." The fellow was definitely cheerful.

"Then why are you here?" Terry persisted.

"I've been posted here," smiled Rawlins. "I'm here to be secretary to Leftenant Garrison, help in the training of the lads, keep the house running smoothly. . ."

Terry was now beyond worried. "Do I live here anymore?" It wasn't sounding like it.

"Oh, yes, Miss Teresa. I'm here to assist you also."

Assist me with what, wondered Terry. "When are the men due back, Sgt. Major?" she asked.

"Any time now, Miss."

Terry dropped her bag at the base of the stairs. "Then I had better get some food ready for them." She was stopped in her tracks.

"I've already done that Miss Terry," said the man proudly. "The Leftenant told me you make sandwiches for them: three apiece. They get milk in the afternoon and hot cocoa in the mornings. Oh, and you needn't worry, Miss, I have supper started also."

Terry's cheeks sucked in, "Then I guess I will go up to my room. It's still my room?" Right now she wasn't sure of anything. Obviously she had been replaced.

"Yes, Miss."

Terry picked up her bag.

"Would you like me to carry that up for you, Miss?" offered the Englishman.

"No thank you," she replied with a hint of defensiveness. "I am perfectly capable of carrying it."

"Yes, Miss." As she tried not to limp up the stairs, he added, "There is fresh linen on the bed. If you would like to take a nap, I can notify you when the lads return."

That was pushing it, thought Terry. "That won't be necessary," she replied.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Teresa?" asked the man eagerly.

Yeah, get the hell outta my house, thought Terry. "No, Sgt. Major . . . Thank you." She had been raised to be polite.

Terry continued to her room and shut the door behind her . . . and locked it. The bag was tossed on the bed and she perched herself in the open window overlooking the drive to wait for her brother to return, hand lightly rubbing the dressing on her thigh through the trousers she was wearing..

GGG

When the Packard pulled into the car park, Terry was out the door and hopping down the stairs in a flash. Even so, the slight British Sgt/Maj.. was at the door ahead of her. She waited at the bottom of the stairs until the men came inside.

"Anybody hurt?" Terry asked, their welfare of more concern than the present situation.

"No," replied Craig.

The four cons watched her guardedly. That did not make Terry feel any more secure.

"There is lunch in the kitchen, Gentlemen," said the Sgt. Maj. perkily.

"Craig, you and I have to talk . . . NOW . . . in private."

Craig nodded in resignation. "My office. I had hoped we would get back before you."

"Sur-prise," replied Terry sarcastically.

The two moved into the office and shut the door. Craig hitched a hip up on a corner of the conference table while Terry faced off at him arms crossed in front of her.

"He speak French?" she asked.

Craig nodded, "And German."

"Lakota."

"Okay."

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded in Lakota, substituting English for the swear word that had no translation. "Are you trying to get rid of me again?"

"No!" said Craig adamantly in their brother's language. "It was the Brass' idea. Seeing as we have so much trouble with Schaeffer, they gave us a British helper."

"What's the matter? Don't I take good enough care of you guys?"

"Damn it, Terry, don't take it that way! It never had anything to do with you or how good you are to us." Garrison had known this was how she would react.

Casino had positioned himself outside the door while the other three men stood around the game table munching Spam sandwiches and watching.

"What are they sayin', Mate?" asked Goniff worriedly.

"I can't tell," replied Casino. "They're talkin' Injun again, except for the cussin'."

"We can hear that," said Actor drolly.

"I really don't think you lads should be listening to the Leftenant's conversation," said Rawlins, coming around the corner from the dining room, when he saw they were not there.

"Butt out!" said Casino harshly to him.

"What way should I take it?" asked Terry. "I come home, here's this guy and he's taken over everything I do. How am I supposed to take it?"

"Oh, hell! It's political. The army's trying to foster better relations between the Americans and the British."

"What? With us? We already have good relations with Major Richards now."

"Not just us. They put a British NCO in with each of the Special Forces teams."

"A spy?"

Craig shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know."

Terry shook her head. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do?"

Now Craig shook his head. "I don't know. Try to get along with him?"

Terry sat down in the chair and looked up at her brother in confusion. "Get along with him. Do the guys get along with him?"

"Not yet."

"Great."

They heard a commotion outside the office and stopped talking to listen.

"Gentlemen, the dining room table is meant for dining. You are dropping crumbs on the floor in here."

"Oh, bugger off, Mate."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh forget it," said the disgusted voice of their scout. "I'm goin' to bed."

"And what should I do with the sandwiches I was told to make for you?"

"You can just shove . . ."

"Casino . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, can it."

Terry was trying to stifle a laugh. Her brother was grinning.

"I didn't say it wasn't entertaining," said Garrison with amusement.

They listened to booted feet stomping up the stairs. Terry peeked out the door and watched the British NCO with hands full of partially eaten sandwiches hurry to the dining room before he dropped them. Terry grinned.

"Can you keep him busy in here for awhile?" she asked Garrison.

"I think so."

Terry walked toward the dining room. The Sgt/Maj. was muttering to himself about the ungrateful blokes. She watched him take the platter of sandwiches into the kitchen. After a moment to get her features in suitable serenity, the girl entered the kitchen. Rawlins looked up at her, in the midst of reaching for the towel to cover the sandwiches.

"Sgt/Major, Lt. Garrison wishes to speak with you," she said. "I can take care of that for you." She indicted the food.

"Oh, uh, thank you, Miss."

Terry waited until he had stepped past her and out the swinging door before she hurried to the butler's pantry and got cloth napkins. Quickly she divided the sandwiches between them and wrapped them up. The scraps of partially eaten sandwiches were in a pile on the table. Those were thrown on the platter and covered with the cloth before getting shoved into the refrigerator. She hoped if the Sgt/Maj. looked in the fridge he would assume they were the uneaten sandwiches.

Stacking the packets on her arm like a waitress, the girl scurried up the stairs before Craig had finished keeping the Brit occupied. She gave a light kick on the door to Chief's room.

"Yeah?"

"Open up," Terry hissed.

The door opened a crack and a grin crossed the Indian's face. He reached for a napkin covered packet.

"Thanks, Terr."

"Any time."

Next she went to Casino's room. This time with a free hand, she tapped at the door.

"Come in."

He was already in his bed when the girl entered. She dropped a napkin wrapped packet on his stomach.

"Thanks, Babe," he grinned at her.

She let herself out and went across the hall to Goniff's room. A tap on the door brought a "come in" from him also. He was down to his regulation underwear just about to climb into bed. He gladly accepted one packet of sandwiches from her and as she turned snatched a second one. The slight pickpocket was always hungry.

With one left, she went to Actor's door. This time she didn't bother to knock, but let herself silently in the confidence man's bedroom. Actor was clad in silk pajama bottoms, neatly folding the dirty clothing he had just removed.

"Sandwich?" asked Terry with a twinkle in her eyes.

The right side of his mouth twitched upward in a grin. "Delighted," he said.

She handed him the last bundle and scooped up the folded clothing, dumping them unceremoniously into the hamper. As she turned, Actor stepped in front of her. She looked up at him expectantly. He looked down at her and smiled. She rested a hand on his shoulder and stood on tip-toes to receive a kiss.

"Have a good sleep, caro," she said quietly.

He looked from her to the sandwiches. "I will now, grazie cara."

"Non รจ niente."

As she headed for his door, Actor noticed the slight limp. "Are you hurt?"

Terry stopped and nodded. "Later, after you've gotten some rest, I'd appreciate if you would take a look at it and redress it. It's upper inner left thigh and just where I would need a hand mirror to see it. Not enough hands." She turned her head and smiled cockily at him.

"All right," said Actor, relaxing a bit. "I will take care of it later."

"Thanks, caro," she smiled and let herself out of the bedroom.

Going back downstairs, the girl peeked into her brother's office. Craig looked up expectantly and made a face at her empty hands.

"Where's mine?" he asked indignantly.

"In Goniff's stomach most likely," she said, unrepentantly.

"Naturally."

"Want me to make you a couple?"

Garrison shook his head. "I'm going to bed. We're going to have to talk again later. There are some issues . . ."

"No kidding," said Terry. "By the way, this bloke isn't camped next to me, is he?"

Craig grinned insincerely. "No, but you're missing a storage room behind the kitchen."

"Terrific."

A couple hours later, Actor tapped lightly on the door to Teresa's bedroom and let himself in. She was propped up against the headboard reading a book. Looking up with a smile, she put her bookmark in place, closing the book and setting it aside.

"What did you do to yourself this time?" asked the con man, going into her bathroom for her aid kit.

"Bullet," she replied, standing up to remove her trousers.

Actor returned, eyeing the sloppy dressing wrapped around her left thigh very high up the leg. "Did Carter not take care to keep you from getting shot?"

"Wasn't Carter's fault," said Terry, lying back down on the bed. "We were trying to outrun some Jerries. Stupid thing really. I had jumped up to try to get over a wire fence. Lucky shot I guess. Carter got shot in the shoulder. He's in the hospital in London."

"Umm," was Actor's only response. The blond confidence man who had been his replacement when he had been imprisoned by the Jerries was not of concern to him.

He sat on the bed beside the girl, opened the aid kit and then began cutting the dressing away with scissors from the kit. He dropped pieces of bloody gauze in the waste can.

"Who dressed this for you? It's a terrible job," he said in disgust.

"I did," said Teresa with a humorous grin at the man's tone. "That's why I came to you. It's in an awkward place and I can't handle it well. Like I said, I need another set of hands."

A knock sounded at the door as Actor leaned over between Terry's raised knees to get a better look at the gash on her inner thigh.

"Who is it?" called out Terry.

"Sgt/Maj. Rawlins, Miss."

"Sgt/Maj. . . ." She never got to finish telling him to go way.

The door opened and the man's eyes turned to saucers. "'Ere now! You can't be doin' that in here!"

Actor turned his head and pinned the man with angry eyes. "This is none of your affair. Get out! Now! And close the door!"

The non-com scooted back and slammed the door shut. Actor shook his head and went back to inspecting the wound. "What did he think I was doing in here?" he muttered.

Terry chuckled. "I think he thought you were making me very happy, caro."

"I wouldn't mind," grumbled Actor, "but we both have more sense than to engage in that activity here."

"Better be careful," teased the girl. "The last time you got caught in a compromising position, you ended up in stir."

"I have all my clothes on this time," said the con man.

"Yeah, but I don't."

The Italian snorted. The two inch long gash had dried blood on it and crusty edges. "How old is this wound?"

"Three days."

Actor shook his head. "Too old to suture it. It will have to heal itself closed."

"Kinda what I figured."

Garrison thought he had heard some kind of ruckus upstairs, but his men were in the common room outside his office door. He looked up sharply as Rawlins flew into the office.

"Leftenant! I realize you are lax with discipline concerning the men, but this is too much!"

Craig had to work at keeping his countenance calm and the exasperation from his voice. "What is it, Sgt/Major?"

"I went up to ask Miss Teresa a question, Sir. She was lying on her bed in her knickers and that older man, Actor, was almost on top of her. This is not right, Leftenant, just not right."

Counting to ten to keep his temper, Garrison heard the laughter from the common room. He pushed his chair back and rose. Going to the door with the Englishman on his heels, he heard Casino's voice.

"Beautiful must be desperate to do it in the house."

"Knock it off, Casino!" ordered Garrison. He pointed a finger at the men. "And you stay down here. All of you."

Actor had just finished cleaning the wound and was getting the dressing ready to be applied when the door opened and Garrison entered, the Sgt./Maj. stepping around him. This was too much. The Italian turned to the non-com with a snarl.

"You will get out of this room right now! And if I ever catch you coming into the lady's bedroom without an invitation again, I will use you for target practice!"

Garrison crossed his arms and turned his head to look at the Englishman. He opened his mouth to order the man out, but before he could speak, his sister got there first.

"Rawlins! Out of my bedroom! Now! This room is off limits to you!" blasted the girl.

The Sgt/Maj. turned to Garrison for support. He saw the crossed arms and narrowed eyes. Turning, he stormed out. Craig stepped closer to the bed.

"Bullet or knife?" he asked casually.

"Bullet."

Craig bent around to inspect the wound on her thigh. Actor paused and watched the dubious look that crossed the lieutenant's face.

"How did you get shot there?" he asked his sister.

Terry rolled her eyes. "I was demonstrating my high kick for the Krauts. I don't know how I got shot there. I was on a fence."

Garrison looked at his second. "Can you suture that?" he asked, pretty sure of the answer.

"No," replied Actor, opening a packet of sulfa powder. "The wound is too old. We will have to change the dressing on it daily."

Garrison sat on the bed and held the gauze pad in place after Actor sprinkled the sulfa on the wound. He glanced at the plain cotton drawers his sister was wearing.

"Man must not have much experience with women," Craig remarked.

Actor paused in the midst of winding roller gauze around the leg and looked at Garrison with one raised eyebrow. He could not see how that man could have any experience with a woman.

Craig shook his head. "Those don't look anything like knickers."

Actor continued to wrap the leg. "It could have been worse," he observed. "She could have been wearing the silk ones."

"What silk ones?" said Garrison slowly with suspicion.

Terry answered that. "The silk ones he gave me a while back. The ones I don't wear."

Actor did not look up. "I have excellent taste in ladies' lingerie," he said without modesty. A finger gestured with disgust at the offending article of clothing. "And that in not appropriate when worn with a Christian Dior evening gown . . . or at any other time."

Garrison stared at him as his sister chuckled.

"You have to watch these European men," said Terry. "They are such snobs."

"Do you want me to keep changing this dressing for you?"

"Yes, Actor. Thank you, Actor."

Garrison rose, shaking his head. What had he done to deserve all this? Without a word, he headed for the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob and looked back.

"Actor, I would give you permission to fulfill your threat to the Sgt/Major, but it would probably put a large crimp in British/American relations."

The Italian grinned at him. "Alas, I fear you are correct in that, Warden."

Garrison went out and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Actor and Teresa to share a laugh. The laugh faded and Actor gave Teresa a frustrated look.

"Do you think you might feel up to cooking dinner tonight?" asked the con man.

"I suppose," said Terry, getting up and pulling her trousers on before anymore unwanted visitors entered. "What would you like?"

"Mushroom chicken."

Terry turned her head to give him a frown. "Didn't you have it last night?"

Actor sucked in his cheeks before answering. "We had chicken, mushrooms and vegetables. I don't believe the Sgt/Major knew how to reheat that dish."

"What . . .?"

Actor recounted the meal that had been served. Terry's eyes widened in anger.

"He boiled my mushroom chicken?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

Actor nodded. "The Warden suggested you might teach him how to reheat the meals you prepare for us."

"Teach him! I'd rather . . ." She paused and took a deep breath before calmly adding, "Craig told me to try to get along with him. I will try to teach him."

"Thank you, cara."