Re-Called to Duty
Author's Notes: Thanks to all who have left reviews/comments for Chapter 1 – feedback always helps the muse! I have used a T rating because – as you may have noticed a bit in Chapter 1 – I'm striving for a more real-world feel for our fictional heroes (but trying very hard to not go out-of-character), i.e, some sexuality (nothing explicit!) and some harsher language than we ever heard from the tv show.
Oh, also, I have constructed the political world and it's politicians to my liking Some characters are my fictional take on real-world people; others are made-up; It's easy to follow, just don't except 100% adherence to our present situation. Additionally, I followed medical science where I could, and bent the rules to suit my story when needed. Nothing beats "poetic license!"
Where we left off . . .
"Francine, you timed your visit perfectly," Amanda proclaimed. "We were just about to sit down to lunch and now you can join us."
Francine couldn't let the visit continue under such a happy misunderstanding that this was merely an unanticipated reunion. While part of her wanted to never have to reveal the information that weighed so heavily on her, a tiny corner of her heart kept nursing the small flame of hope that knowledge also brought with it.
"Lee –" she started, then stopped. "Amanda –" she stopped again, twisting her hands together in an uncharacteristic manner, betraying openly her raw nerves.
"Are you okay, Francine? Can we help you?" Amanda asked, concerned over this very un-Francinelike behavior.
The blond woman drew in a deep breath before she answered, "I'm here because the Agency has information you need to know, and because they want you to do something for them. I told them I would be the one to come talk to you."
The two Stetsons just stared at their friend, her answer something neither one expected to hear.
Lee found his voice first. "Francine, what makes you think we would listen to anything the Agency has to say?" he ground out, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the handles of Amanda's wheelchair.
. . . and now, Chapter 2
Instinctively, Francine took a step backward in the face of Lee's contained fury. She hadn't experienced such anger since those long ago days when that hideous clusterfuck of a mission had cost Amanda the use of her legs. Automatically she looked to Amanda for help, the one person who could always pull Scarecrow back from the edge.
But there was no help from that quarter at this moment.
Forgetting her own reactions, she put a hand out to her oldest friend, "Lee!"
He blinked, trying to catch up mentally to the abrupt shift in Francine's voice and stance as she knelt down and took Amanda's hand and called her name. What the hell –
He came around too to kneel in front of his wife and saw what had so immediately drawn on Francine's concern. His wife's face had paled to chalk-white, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her eyes seemed unfocused, glassy. Damn!
Lee reached up his hand to her cheek, "Amanda, Honey, are you all right?"
Her voice came out in a whispery croak, "Lee? Are you mad at me? I'm trying, really I am."
He closed his eyes at her words. They weren't a response to his question now, rather they were a repetition of words from years ago, back when he had alternated between despair and rage as he'd begged her to hold on until help arrived.
"Amanda, I'm right here," he murmured soothingly. "You're safe now. Can you hear me?"
She shuddered and drew a sudden deep breath as awareness resurfaced. Her eyelids fluttered and then flashed open to look at the face of her husband, so close in front of her. He looks so worried, why?
"Lee," she breathed, putting her hand over the one on her cheek, regaining her emotional balance by focusing on his presence.
He gave her a smile, shaky but genuine nonetheless as he saw that she was quickly coming around.
"Hey, there. You kinda zoned out for bit," he said in a gentle tone. "How do you feel?"
She was quickly grounding herself again, inwardly embarrassed at her lack of control. She had worked hard for years at being strong, for herself and for Lee. To be honest his cold rage had likely triggered this; she was unprepared for it and it had been like being dumped in a freezing river - - utterly immersed in the moment and unable to fight it. She was better than this! The little victories she had each day, that she shared with no one, those kept her sane, stable, and brave to do what had to be done.
"I'm fine," she reassured him. "I am really!" seeing his eyes continue to track her, looking for signs that might belie her words. "I'm sorry I scared you, but I'm really okay now."
She turned her glance to the kneeling woman in front of her. "I'm fine, Francine. Please don't worry. But you must admit that an Agency purpose for your visit is the last thing we expected."
"I know," came the quiet answer. "And please believe I would not be bringing this to you unless I thought you might want to hear it. Would you let me explain, please?"
Lee had risen to his feet, his anger returning but better contained. "Why would you even think we'd want to listen, Francine? How could you listen to them? They want something from us?! Does the Agency think we'd consider giving them another chance to screw with our lives?"
She stood up, ready to meet his challenge head on, "Lee, I know this seems outrageous. But don't you believe I wouldn't ever be just a tool for them?" Francine took a breath and continued in a less heated tone, "Stephen thinks this has to be something for you to consider. And you know he would always want the best for you both as well."
Pinching the bridge of his nose in an age-old habit as he struggled with his temper, he resorted to a slow, internal count to ten before speaking. A former NEST neurosurgeon, Stephen Bedford had saved Amanda's life those long years ago. He had stayed close with the Stetsons not only by continuing to be her doctor, but also because he had become Francine's husband. Lee respected and trusted him, and he admitted to himself, he also respected and trusted Francine. She too had helped Amanda fight to stay alive that hellish night, and proved herself a devoted friend in the difficult weeks and months that had followed.
"Okay, Francine," he said, after seeing assent in his wife's eyes as well, "because it's from you and Stephen, we'll listen. But we will only listen. I have no intention of doing a damn thing for the Agency."
I don't know if I hope you change your mind or not, she thought, but merely replied, "Fair enough."
She turned back to face Amanda and smiled with simple warmth, "How about the lunch you mentioned? We can relax a bit first before we get to the harder stuff, and besides," she grinned, "I'm starving!"
As intended, her final comment brought a thaw to the conversation and everyone released some tension with a little laughter.
"Give your sandwich order to Lee, and I'll take care of your drink – you can set yourself a place at the table, party-crasher!" dictated Amanda as she led the little group into the kitchen.
In a matter of minutes, the three were seated around the table, catching each other up on family, friends, and other news. Unthinkingly drawing on past years' experience at compartmentalizing more volatile thoughts and feelings, they truly enjoyed their conversation. Francine had slowly come to know Jamie and Philip and now keenly followed each one's career and family life. In turn, Lee and Amanda loved Francine and Stephen's daughter Sarah, truly their "niece" as well as godchild. But finally dishes were cleared, glasses filled with iced tea or lemonade, and the atmosphere took on a more somber tone as they broached the reason for Francine's visit.
Their guest started slowly, choosing her words carefully. "As I said before, I would not be here just to make an Agency request of you, for their sake. I have no ties with them anymore, I only hear snippets of news from time to time when Stephen is asked to consult with a NEST physician or surgeon, and even then there is very little he can share with me, due to doctor-patient confidentiality and Agency need-to-know rules."
She raised her eyes to both her friends, needing to see that they believed her, no – believed in her. One set of green eyes was still wary, but the brown eyes of the woman in the wheelchair shone with full trust. Determined not to betray that trust, Francine continued, knowing this was going to get difficult.
"Stephen was asked to consult again a few weeks ago, but when he got to the hospital, he found he wasn't meeting with another physician about a specific case, but with the directors from the CIA and NSA; Cameron Mitchell; Dr. Pamela Golden – she's the Director of the NIH – and the Vice President."
"Of the United States? That Vice President?" asked Amanda, nearly as wide-eyed and wondering as she had been as a civilian consultant nearly 35 years ago.
"The very same," came the answer.
Lee just asked one question. "How long has Mitchell been head of the Agency?"
"About 3 years, I think," Francine said. "Stephen hasn't really had any lengthy conversations with him. He has noticed that Mitchell has been at any hospital that Stephen's been called to for emergencies, usually staying out of the way and with any family that might be there for the agent who's sick or injured. But as I said, other than maybe giving him information on an agent's condition, he doesn't know him."
"It sounds like a meeting of some very important people," Amanda commented. "Why did they want Stephen?"
Francine took a deep breath. Coming soon would be the hard part, the really hard part.
"At first they gave him some intelligence information. They said it was necessary that he know some background information before they got to asking his medical opinion."
"That is pretty unusual, even given the high security clearance Stephen has," noted Lee. "Why would background intel affect his medical advice?"
"It was odd," agreed their friend, "But this was their show, so he just listened and waited. It seems there is a research scientist and physician, German by birth, who has been living and working in the Ukraine. He's attached to the Crimea Medical Academy, which is a subdivision of the Crimea State Medical University. He is a surgeon and is also very active in medical research."
"Isn't a facility in Ukraine an odd choice for a German doctor, especially given the quality of institutions in Germany?" asked Amanda.
"Not really, it is one of the top medical universities in Europe," answered Francine. "And as Stephen was told, this scientist deliberately chose it more than ten years ago for reasons other than its reputation."
She paused. Her next words would be the first revelation that would start the snowball rolling downhill, and there would be no stopping it after that.
Lee was impatient. "And?' he asked irritated at her slow reveal of information. "What are those reasons?"
Francine's own patience was not inexhaustible. A little understanding from Lee would go a long way!
"Dr. Holland left Germany to avoid any association with his father," she said more sharply than she had intended. "And also because of his desire to oppose his father's choices, he chose a school in Ukraine to taunt Putin himself."
Amanda was bewildered by this detail. "How in the world would a doctor's place of work or study be a taunt to Vladimir Putin?"
While his wife was unclear, Lee was able to start putting some of the pieces together. He began to sort those pieces aloud, "So that means his father was an operative under Putin . . . back when Putin was heading up intelligence in East Germany in the 1980s…?" He phrased it as a question, but the former agent was certain what his old co-worker's answer would be.
"His father operated out of East Germany even before Putin was moved there in 1985. But he was an even more – aggressive – agent under Putin's 5-year tenure in East Berlin," she confirmed. "His mother had already divorced his father, so he didn't see much of him as a child. However when he was college age and had expressed an interest in medicine, his father and Putin tried to influence him to put his talents at the service of the USSR's massive biological weapons program."
"Did he go along with them or refuse?" Amanda wanted to know.
"He did refuse, but it might have been pointless were it not for the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Dr. Holland and his mother took advantage of the political chaos to effectively disappear for almost the next 20 years. It seems our intelligence services only started figuring out his background when he re-surfaced in Crimea in 2007."
"I'm sorry, but I am still lost," admitted Amanda, shaking her head, "why would the Agency share this information with Stephen? And why does it need to be told to us?"
"Because," Lee bit out, "Dr. Holland's father is someone we encountered before, isn't that right, Francine?"
"Yes," was all she could say.
"Well who is his father, for heaven's sake?!" this felt uncomfortably like the very old days when she was a rookie civilian consultant and barely understood the "spy talk" that had gone on around her and over her head.
Lee's voice didn't lose its icy edge, "Do you want to tell her, Francine, or shall I?"
Turning to look at her friend, the blond said plainly, "Amanda, Dr. Holland's father is – was – former East German operative Curt Hollander."
"Curt Hollander? You mean that agent who was using James Delano and Quickie Chickie Snack Shacks to steal military secrets?"
It had been a long time ago but even now as a grandmother of eight she was pretty sure her memory was right about that name.
"Yes, Sweetheart, the Curt Hollander who tried to poison you." Lee was mad at Francine, and in a way he couldn't quite understand, he was even mad at Amanda as well. How could her memory of that bastard be about the traitorous businessman who collaborated with him, and not that Hollander had tried to kill her? Where was her sense of personal preservation? Why was he the only one upset by this?
"I know that, Lee," was the only reply Amanda made to him. Would he ever let go of feeling responsible for anything bad that happened to her? She turned back to her friend with a question, "How could he ever have worked with Putin, Francine? He went to prison after that failed intelligence operation, didn't he?"
"He did," she acknowledged, "but I did some digging and found out that the CIA had arranged for his transfer back to East Germany in exchange for three of their agents in early 1985. And it looks like that was a trade made very cleverly by Putin, who very much wanted Hollander back on his team."
"Damn CIA," muttered Lee under his breath.
Amanda ignored him and kept her attention on Francine. There must be something more here, this just wasn't registering as a big deal to her, or explaining why she and Lee were being approached by the Agency after all these years.
"Why does this matter, Francine? So this Dr. Holland has a father who was an enemy agent, and he made some life decisions to avoid him; how does that concern the Agency or us?"
"There is more to it," she admitted quietly.
"Of course there is!" Lee exclaimed. "The heads of three intelligence services, the NIH, and the Vice President of the United States didn't bring in your husband for just a game of Show & Tell! What the hell else is going on?"
"Putin wants Dr. Holland. He still wants him, our government thinks, for research on biological weapons. The Soviet program was vast and covered using weaponizing diseases like anthrax, smallpox, tularemia, the Marburg virus and many others. No one really knows what happened to the stockpiles of the Soviet bio-agents and the over 50 clandestine sites where the research was carried out. The Russians are still backing Assad in Syria and if he were to have access to biologics in addition to the chemical weapons he has already used…"
Francine didn't have to complete the sentence. All of them knew that the introduction of any one of those diseases among a population could soon spread like wildfire throughout the Middle East.
She barreled on ahead, needing to get to the crucial point of all this.
"Now that Russia has control of the Crimean peninsula, Putin has easier access to Holland, but he can't quite risk an outright kidnapping. Mitchell and the other intelligence directors think Holland would come to the US if we could get him out some way."
Lee's patience was nearly gone. "How does this affect us, Francine? Neither Amanda nor I are agents, and we haven't been for years. For God's sake, what do they want with us?"
Her answer came in a rush.
"Dr. Holland's real area of research and practice isn't focused on contagious diseases. He is a specialist on rehabilitative and surgical therapy in tandem with experimental pharmacological treatment of spinal injuries." She had to ignore the change of expression on both the faces of the people she considered her closest friends and just keep going. "He's hosting an international conference of neurosurgeons and he wants them to each bring a patient who would stand the best chance of benefiting from Dr. Holland's kind of therapeutic tactics and Stephen thinks –"
" – that I would be that patient," Amanda whispered.
Lee's face had drained of all color. "The Agency is dangling this false carrot of help for my wife in order to get us to go to Russian-occupied Crimea and smuggle out the son of the man who almost killed her?" He could barely get the words out, the words leaving his mouth tasting like ashes. "And you're helping them with this grotesque request?"
"Lee, no!" Francine cried out. "I would never betray you or Amanda like that!" Tears pooled in her eyes and she dashed them aside with a swipe of her hand. "This is no trick: Stephen truly thinks Dr. Holland could help Amanda regain the use of her legs and even walk again."
…To be continued