Chapter 4-Revelations
Pushing Phileas out of the way, Blayne draped on of the hot blankets over Rebecca. Her skin was like ice. Lifting one corner of the blanket, she began gently prodding Rebecca's side. As she approached the location of the largest bruise, Rebecca cried out. She bit her lip to avoid embarrassing herself again.
Phileas hurried to the other side of the bed and took her hand tenderly in his. "Look at me, Rebecca..." he breathed, caressing her face. "I'm here for you."
"Oh, Phileas..." Rebecca sighed. "I'm so sorry. You must have been so worried..."
"I was, but I'm better now."
"You're a dreadful liar, Phileas." Rebecca smiled sadly up at him.
As they were almost alone, he bent and gently kissed her forehead. Blayne politely ignored this as she continued her examination. She looked up suddenly. "Fogg, would you go see if Rizzo needs any help?"
Phileas reluctantly left the room.
Rebecca stared at Blayne. "You've lost a lot of your subtlety, Brenna."
"Merely mislaid it for a time. There's something I need to ask you that I'd rather not mention with Phileas about."
Rebecca stared in surprise. "What is it, Brenna?"
"A medical question. About your condition..."
"If you mean am I pregnant..."
"No, Rebecca..." Blayne shook her head. She was not entirely sure how to broach the subject with a Victorian Lady. "When we found you, you had no clothes..."
"They took them because they knew I carry concealed weapons."
"And... that's all?"
Rebecca stared at Blayne in surprise for a few minutes. Then she slowly began to comprehend. "You mean... Oh, no, Brenna! Aside from beating me within an inch of my life, they were perfect gentlemen." She snorted derisively.
"Good to know." Blayne smiled, relieved. Such an event could have seriously altered the established blood-lines. She bent over and kissed Rebecca on the forehead. "Your ribs are definitely broken, but they don't seem to be puncturing your lungs. I'll bandage them as soon as we've stopped your bleeding. Okay?"
"Then I'll live?"
Blayne responded with typical honesty. "Probably."
Blayne picked up a roll of bandages and started on Rebecca's wrists, lacerated from her struggles. She hesitated as Phileas and Rizzo entered, each carrying a large bowl. Passepartout and Jules followed, carrying assorted bottles. Rizzo also carried his satchel. He placed his bowl on Rebecca's bedside table.
"Disinfectant." he whispered to Blayne. "Cobbled together in Jean's laboratory. Fogg has clean water."
She nodded gratefully and began cleansing Rebecca's cuts. Rizzo handed her a roll of fine twine and a thick needle and she began carefully stitching the more gaping injuries. She started with her arms and face and then moved on to her legs, cleaning, stitching where necessary, and then carefully bandaging as the others stood by uncertainly, looking on.
When it came time to deal with the injuries to Rebecca's torso, Blayne looked. "Jules, Jean, Rizzo. Out."
"But..." Passepartout began.
"We can help." Jules protested. "We want to..."
"Rebecca is naked under those blankets, Jules." Rizzo noted gently, steering the young man towards the door. "I believe Bren is trying to guard her modesty."
Jules quickly fled. Passepartout stubbornly remained. "But I is being good helper." he protested. At a sharp look from Phileas, he too fled. Grinning, Rizzo followed.
Phileas rose to leave as well, but Blayne shook her head. "I need some help. I figured as her closest relative..."
Phileas shook his head, turning pink. "Honestly, Blayne..."
Blayne sighed. "Damn your Victorian British modesty, Fogg! I need a strong man to help me here. So, if you're not willing to do it, you can pick between Rizzo and Jean. I'd suggest Jean as the stronger."
"My valet is not touching Rebecca when she is bereft of clothing!"
"Then you do it."
"No!"
"Phileas..." Rebecca groaned. "Please. If it has to be anyone, I want it to be you."
Phileas sighed and rolled up his sleeves. He looked at Blayne to avoid looking at Rebecca. "What do I have to do?"
"We're going to sit her up so I can wrap her. I need you to hold her there firm with her arms over her head. You can't let her move when I'm wrapping, and she's got to be sitting up straight. Really it's a two-man job, but with Rebecca's help you should be able to manage it."
Phileas sighed and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself. Finally, he nodded to Blayne to indicate his readiness. She slid the blanket down to Rebecca's waist, noting the way Phileas colored as she did so. When he saw her bruises, his face hardened into a grim expression.
"Now." she ordered, grabbing Rebecca's left side. Phileas grabbed her right side and they quickly hoisted her into a sitting position.
"That hurts." Rebecca noted softly. She had paled noticeably.
"Lift her arms up, Phileas." Blayne ordered him.
He did so, flinching slightly at Rebecca's stifled groan. His face hardened again and he held her arms securely over her head. "You're doing just fine, Rebecca." he muttered into her ear.
"Hold her like that." Blayne ordered. She looked over at him and smiled. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you." she said softly she told Phileas.
He shook his head slightly, blinking.
"How does that feel, Rebecca?" Blayne asked, gently poking and prodding. "Anything rubbing where it shouldn't be?"
"No." Rebecca shook her head.
She was even more pale than she had been when they had brought her back aboard the Aurora, but she had that determined expression on her face. In fact, all three of them had it. It was trade-mark Fogg in any unpleasant but necessary situation.
"Hold this end for a second, Fogg." Blayne said, handing him one end of the bandage.
Keeping one hand around Rebecca's hands, he held the bandage tightly in the other. He could see what Blayne meant about this being a two-man job, but Rebecca stoically did her part. With his help, Blayne soon had the first layer wrapped around Rebecca. Rebecca's lower lip trembled, and her face occasionally contorted, but she did not make a sound as Blayne pulled the bandage firm. Phileas returned both hands to holding Rebecca upright as Blayne continued the job of wrapping. She moved as quickly as she could, tightly wrapping Rebecca's entire abdomen and chest for good measure.
She looked up at Phileas. "Have Jean reheat the blankets. This took longer than I had anticipated."
Phileas looked down at Rebecca. He smiled at her and caressed her cheek before leaving.
"Can he stay with me until I'm asleep?"
"Of course he can." Blayne said, smiling. She reached into Rizzo's satchel and pulled out a fresh syringe and two more vials.
"What is it?" Rebecca asked, half-sitting to get a better look.
Blayne gently pushed her back down. "This one will help your body fight infection, and this one will ease your pain and it will help you rest."
Rebecca nodded and leaned back again. Her trust in Blayne was complete. Blayne quickly gave her the shots, then tucked the needles and vials away as Phileas re-entered, his arms piled high with hot blankets. They quickly wrapped Rebecca in one. She let out a little groan.
"Are you in pain?" Phileas asked, concerned.
She shook her head, a little smile playing across her face.
"It feels good." Blayne assured Phileas. "Being wrapped in hot blankets, I mean. You should try it some time."
Phileas looked down at Rebecca and smiled at the smile on her face. "We should let her rest now."
"Maybe she'd like you to stay with her." Blayne suggested softly, saving Rebecca the embarrassment of having to make such an unladylike request herself.
"Rebecca?" Phileas asked.
"I'd like the company. I... don't want to be alone again."
"Call me if you need anything." Blayne muttered as she left them.
Phileas smiled gently down at Rebecca. "Are you in much pain?" he asked softly.
"Not anymore…" Rebecca smiled up at him. Either Blayne's medicine was working faster than she had anticipated, or the mere presence of her beloved cousin was relaxing her. "Oh, Phileas, I missed you so much…" she muttered.
He sat on the edge of the bed and gently caressed her face. "I have never been so afraid in my life as I was for you the last four days." he admitted.
Rebecca reached up and covered his hand with her own, pressing it to her cheek. "I though about you a lot…"
"Don't talk now. You need to rest."
"Stay with me, please." Rebecca pleaded. "That place, Phileas, it was dark and cold…"
Phileas gently laid two fingers over her lips. "I know. But you're safe now. And I won't leave you. Rest now, Rebecca."
Rebecca sighed, relieved. "Thank you…" She closed her eyes and stopped fighting the medicine.
Phileas sat on the side of the bed looking down at her for several minutes. Watching her sleep always made him feel calm, and although the livid bruise on her face was, in his mind, an outrage, he still found her beautiful. He picked up another blanket and gently covered her, taking the time to carefully tuck it under her feet. She did not even stir as he folded her arms over her chest. He started to rise, then stopped. He picked up her left arm again and held her hand against his cheek thoughtfully. He lightly kissed it before returning it to her chest.
He pulled a small chair across the room and positioned it by the bed. As he kept his vigil, his hands were folded in what might have been prayer.
*****
Blayne found Rizzo on the observation deck, sitting cross-legged on the rail, playing that guitar of his again. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Riz."
"And I wish you wouldn't break perfectly healthy necks…"
Blayne entertained the notion of pushing him over the edge for about three seconds before walking up to him. She rested her hand gently on his back. "Come down from there."
He nodded and jumped off of the railing. He rested his guitar on the floor and stared at Blayne. "What was that all about, anyway? You know something I don't?"
"One or two things." Blayne told him mildly. "You should know by now that there's no real need for you to question my judgment in these matters."
He conceded this with a nod. "You've never steered me wrong before, but that looked a little too much like anger and not enough like a rational attempt to maintain the time-line."
Blayne stared at her feet. "Riz… You trust me?"
"With my life."
She smiled up at him. "That's good to know, because it may come down to that soon enough."
He sighed. "I know. This shit is ugly."
She sighed too. "I've always felt sorry for you, Riz. This isn't how you were meant to live. People like you… they should stay young and idealistic forever."
"Well, I'm still young, at least." Rizzo said gently, sliding an arm around her. "And idealism… well, it can be dangerous, you know."
"I know." She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"How's Rebecca?"
"She'll be fine. Probably."
Rizzo nodded. "What about you?"
"Me?" Blayne stared up at him, loosing herself in his eyes. She had always loved his eyes. To her embarrassment, she found herself spontaneously quoting late 20th century song lyrics. Rizzo sometimes had that effect on people.
"In your eyes faint as the singing of a lark,
That somehow this black night,
Feels warmer for that spark
Warmer for the spark,
To hold us 'til the day
When fear will lose its grip
And heaven has its way.
Heaven knows no frontiers,
And I've seen heaven in your eyes…"
Rizzo smiled down at her, hugging her tightly. "You been taking some of what Rebecca's on, Sister Golden-Hair?"
She blushed and shook her head. "No, just… Lost in the moment."
"Oh, one of those. I get them sometimes."
"Like that time you tried to surf the English Channel?" Blayne smiled at the memory. At the time, she had assumed him quite mad for it, but now she understood that all the 'crazy' things he did were just his own way of maintaining his sanity in the face of what had driven better Agents over the edge. She stared at a passing cloud, thinking of Johansen.
"Tell me something." Rizzo said gently, giving her a little shake.
"Yes?"
"Why the interest in Verne?"
"I beg your pardon?" She stared warily at him, not entirely certain where he was going with the question, and not much liking the implication.
"Jules Verne. Why are our superiors so interested in him?"
"Oh…" Blayne nodded her understanding and considered the question for a minute. "Did you know that the young man sees the future?" she asks quietly. "Not the whole things, but random bits and pieces of it. Enough to be valuable."
"Um, at the risk of sounding skeptical, we come from times when most of his prophecies have already been fulfilled. Unlike the League, we already know this shit."
She shook her head. "Most of what he knows will never make it into his books. That's half our job, right there."
Rizzo stared at her. "What? To censor his writing?"
"No, of course not. Just to… guide him. To help him use discretion. Keep a secret?" she asked, looking around quickly.
"Lay it on me."
"Our best guess is that Verne's writing actually has had an impact on the future. His future, our future… He's giving people ideas. Now, imagine if he had written a story that involved nuclear warfare. He'd have replaced Einstein in the equation, and suddenly the bomb is discovered before the end of the Second World War. And maybe not by the Americans…"
Rizzo considered this. "Damn."
She nodded. "Imagine if the League got their hands on him. Now they don't know about the A-bomb now, but they would really quickly, and Count Gregory has the resources to make it happen in this century."
"Good God. The man should be under a 24 hour guard."
"He was for a while. Subtly. When I could no longer track and guide his movements sufficiently from a distance, Agent Arago moved in to take my place. Dumas, on assignment from the French government, assisted us for a time. Of course, neither he nor the French knew exactly why, but it didn't make him any less helpful in guiding Jules."
"And now that he's all grown up, you move back in to take over again?"
"Only for a time. He's young still, and impressionable. The results of prolonged interaction with him could be… problematic."
Rizzo nodded. "I can see that. You're attractive by the standards of any age. He falls for you, maybe he doesn't marry. Maybe Michel never introduces you to this life…"
"Michel had great potential. His death was a great blow to our side."
"I didn't mean to imply otherwise." Rizzo assured her.
"Jules must live to die of natural causes." Blayne muttered absently, staring out over the passing landscape. "The Foggs must live to die of natural causes. It's a great burden…"
"Which one of them are you descended from?" Rizzo asked gently. Finding her in a forthcoming mood, he hoped to get the answer that she had been withholding from him from the beginning.
"Go scratch, Riz. That's classified."
"Worth a try, though." Rizzo grinned at her. "Seriously, though. What do we want from Verne. I seriously doubt it only extends as far as keeping him safe from the League."
"There are those who would exploit him to our advantage."
"And you?"
"I don't want either side to have him." Blayne turned her back on the landscape and stared at Rizzo. "If power corrupts, what corruption does the power to see and shape the future bring? What if we become as bad as the League in our quest to keep them from changing the course of history? What if we decide maintaining the status quo isn't enough and decide to shape the future to our specifications?"
"It would be insane to even attempt it." Rizzo admitted. "Which isn't to say that, if asked, I wouldn't infiltrate their HQ and blow Gregory away myself."
"We've all lost people we love to him. That makes it hard to be rational about our real purpose."
"Guess that's what we have the computers for." Rizzo picked up his guitar and handed it to her. "Play that song for me. The one you were quoting from earlier."
She nodded and bent to tune the guitar.
*****
The five friends gathered around Rebecca's bed just as soon as Phileas reported that she was awake, each eager, for their own reasons, to find out what had happened. Rebecca was propped up, leaning against several pillows and finishing the tea Passepartout had made for her. Blayne had given her some pills for the pain, but so far, although she was still in quite a bit of pain, she had not needed any. She took this as a promising sign.
She set her teacup down and looked around the room. "Who rescued me?" she asked first.
"Rizzo and I did." Blayne told her.
"Couldn't have done it without Fogg's air-ship." Rizzo added softly.
Rebecca smiled at them. "Thank you all."
"Are you ready to tell us what happened?" Blayne asked gently.
Rebecca nodded slowly and grasped Phileas's hand before beginning. "It was a routine mission. I was very weak still, but having looked at what was required of me, I didn't think it would be a problem. All I had to do was meet a defector, take a statement and smuggle him onto the Aurora and out of the country, where Sir Jonathan would take charge of him. There weren't even any bad guys involved. It was a baby-sitting job."
"Rough little kids…" Rizzo muttered, so softly that only Blayne heard. In a normal voice, he added, "So what happened."
"Well, I met him and took the statement and we started to leave. He said that I looked ill, and I told him that I was recovering from a gun-shot wound. I shouldn't even have mentioned it, but he seemed very concerned. He told me that he had a friend who would give us horses without asking any questions so we could get back to the Aurora more easily. I must still have been half out of it, because I believed him. He was leading me through a small village and I thought everything was okay, but he suddenly pulled out a gun and started shooting at me."
"You were shot?" Phileas gasped, glaring at Blayne for not telling him.
"No." Rebecca shook her head. "He must have been blind with rage, because he fired six shots at me, me standing there in shock, and not one hit. I shot him on his sixth shot. And they arrested me, which would have been the end of it, but one of the guards recognized me from the Queen's last visit."
Phileas buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe we let you walk into a trap like that."
"I'm not sure it was a trap, Phileas. He seemed genuinely eager to get out of the country until the moment he pulled that gun. It's like he snapped."
Blayne reached out and lightly tapped Rizzo on the shoulder. "Sound familiar?" she whispered.
He nodded. "May I ask a question, Rebecca?"
"Of course, Jack." Rebecca looked up at him expectantly.
"Why did Chatsworth send you of all people? Not to be offensive, but still injured as you were, you were hardly the best choice."
Rebecca considered this for a few seconds before nodding. "I rather gathered from what he said that he's having something of a man-power crisis at present. I know personally of at least three Agents who have died under questionable circumstances in the past month alone."
Blayne took a deep breath. "Last week, I was on a mission, a routine assignment not unlike yours. Agent Johansen and I were to meet an informant in a warehouse. That was a set-up. Agent Johansen shot me without warning." She pulled her hair back, showing he barely-healed abrasion over her temple. "Except, the thing is, I don't think the two were related. I've known Sven for years. He gave no indication that anything was wrong, until he pulled out his gun and shot me."
"Are we beginning to sense a pattern yet, boys and girls?" Rizzo asked softly. "Because our two organizations are not the only ones having these problems. I've got reliable reports of the same thing from four European Agencies and the Ottomans. Some of the Agents have been killed with guns and knives, others with bare hands. All the attacking Agents have either been killed in self-defense or committed suicide after successfully killing their partners."
Blayne sighed. "And we don't know why or how…"
"Could the League be involved?" Jules asked quietly.
Blayne eyed him thoughtfully. "It's not an entirely unreasonable assumption, Jules, but there are other bad guys out there than the Count and his men. And that assumes that some human influence is responsible for all of this. I'm sorry, Jules, but we just don't know enough yet to come to any reasonable conclusion. I never saw who ambushed us. Rebecca was arrested by Prussian police for killing a Prussian citizen… We just don't know right now."
Rizzo rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "When we get back to England, we may be able to discover more…"
Blayne sighed and nodded, closing her eyes against the tears she felt threatening. "We should let Rebecca rest." she suggested. "And, Rebecca, if you've no objection, I'd like to check you over once more."
"Of course. If you think that's necessary." Rebecca nodded weakly.
Phileas smiled gently at her. "Should I stay or wait outside."
The others had left, except for Blayne who waited by the door. "You don't have to stay any more, Phileas. I was afraid to be alone, but I'm better now. Thank you…"
"If you don't mind, I should like to stay any how."
Rebecca smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and nodded. "Thank you, Phileas."
"My pleasure."
Blayne, noting that the conversation had ended, stepped forward and produced a thermometer, which she placed in Rebecca's mouth. As they waited for it to take a reading, she checked Rebecca's pulse and, by pushing her fingers into the crook of Rebecca's arm, got a crude estimate of blood-pressure.
"Ninety-nine." Blayne announced, staring at the thermometer. "A little elevated, but low enough that we can safely say you don't have an infection. Phileas, can you blow out all the lights except that candle there and draw the shades?"
"Why?"
"I want to check her pupilary response."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I want to see how her eyes respond to sudden light. It tells me if her head's been hurt."
"Oh." Phileas quickly drew the shades and turned off the gas-lights. As he walked back to the bed, he handed Blayne the candle.
Blayne cupped her hand around the flame, casting the room into near-total darkness. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. "Becky, I want you to stare straight ahead, if you will. Keep your eyes fixed forward."
"Okay." Rebecca said, focusing on an imaginary point in front of her nose. She was very surprised when Blayne unshielded the flame less than six inches from her eyes, but managed not to move or blink them.
Blayne held the candle there for only a few seconds. "Very good. Phileas, can we have light again."
As Phileas got up to open the shades again, Rebecca whispered. "Well? Am I going to make it?"
"Looks that way, dear, but no more suicide-runs for at least six months. Doctor's orders."
Rebecca sniggered.
"What are you two whispering about?" Phileas asked.
"Girl-talk." Blayne told him. "Could you help me. I want to redo the dressings on her arms and legs."
"What of her chest?" Phileas asked warily.
"Not for a few days at least. Those bandages are the only thing keeping her ribs from shifting every time she squirms. As it is, any more movement than this is not a wise idea for a few weeks at least."
"A few weeks?" Rebecca sighed. "Confined to bed and wrapped in swaddling?" She made a face. "How am I to bathe?"
Blayne shrugged. "We'll have to give you sponge-baths."
"Blayne, I love Rebecca dearly, but I am not helping with that." Phileas muttered.
Blayne grinned. "Nor were you invited to." She squeezed Rebecca's arm. "You're lucky I once thought I wanted to be a doctor. I'm quite used to these kinds of things. After the first few weeks, you'll have enough mobility to bathe yourself again. We may need to hire a lady's maid."
Rebecca made a face but did not comment.
"We'll see, okay. Are you in much pain? Do the pills work okay?"
"I haven't taken one yet. I'm in pain, but it's not unbearable anymore. Just knowing that I'm safe helps."
Blayne smiled at her. "Okay, love. Try and get some more sleep." Blayne gently squeezed her shoulder before rising. She smiled reassuringly at Phileas and touched his face before leaving the bedroom.
Phileas stared after her for a moment before returning his attention to Rebecca. "Shall I dim the lights for you?"
"Actually, I was hoping to read a little before I went back to sleep."
"I have an idea." Phileas rose and pulled the shades again. He picked up her book and turned off the gas-lights. He placed the candle on her night-stand and pulled his chair close. "I'll read to you, instead. That way, Blayne can't accuse you of not resting."
Rebecca smiled and squeezed his hands. "Thank you, Phileas."
*****
Blayne spent the return trip to England in the cabin, watching Passepartout steer. It was not necessary, she knew, but it was something to keep him occupied. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder at Blayne, perhaps waiting for her to speak. She always just smiled reassuringly at him. At one point, when Jules and Rizzo were occupied in a game of Rummy, she walked up to him and slid her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder. Passepartout smiled at this gesture and gently rubbed the side of his face against hers.
"Thank you." she whispered, kissing his cheek before pulling away. "I needed that."
"I is guessing at this."
She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You're a good man, Jean."
He blushed at this compliment. After a moment's silence, he asked, "Is Miss Rebecca to be recovering or not recovering?"
"It's hard to say, Jean. On the one hand, her injuries are severe and the medicine of this time is limited. On the other hand, this is Rebecca Fogg. She's a strong woman. I'd say she has a good chance."
Passepartout stared thoughtfully at her for a moment. There had been a slight catch in her voice when she had spoken. "I is thinking there is being a 'but'."
"An unless, actually." Blayne admitted. "I have no way yet of knowing if she is bleeding internally, inside. If she is, there's very little that can be done about it…"
"If there is being way, you is finding it." Passepartout replied with assurance.
"Bless you, Jean."
He stared at her quizzically. "But I is not sneezing…"
*****
They arrived in London after a few more hours without incident. Passepartout and Rizzo carefully loaded Rebecca onto the stretcher and carried her up to her room. Once Rebecca was settled, Blayne and Rizzo left, promising to return with some information on the situation.
When the returned to the HQ, Blayne went to her office to sort out the mountain of paperwork that their little excursion would require while Rizzo headed to the computer-bank. Blayne helped herself to another bottle of patent medicine from her cabinet as she settled down to the paperwork. She scribbled a quick note to herself to visit a neurologist for her damned headaches, then turned her attention to the dozen or so forms that needed to be filled out and submitted in the next few hours.
Rizzo headed straight for the computer-bank, not even stopping to stow his guitar in his room. "Doc Ross!" he called, entering the room.
Doctor Ross looked up from the read-out he had been bent over. "Welcome home, Agent Rizzo. What can I do for you."
"Need to use a computer."
"You know that all paper-work is to be filed by hand…"
"Blayne's on that. I need to run the numbers on these homicides we've been having."
"Oh." Doctor Ross smiled and nodded his head. He rose and led Rizzo to a small side-room. He held his thumb up to the sensor and the door slid open. "I've been running some numbers on these cases as well, Agent Rizzo, and I'll have them to you as soon as we've analyzed them."
"Thanks, man." Rizzo patted his arm and sat down at the computer.
If computer technology never ceased to amaze Rizzo, he was even more amazed at how quickly he had taken to working on them. He could type a hundred words a minute, blindfolded, and knew how to get a computer to do almost anything that he wanted it to. He could make spread-sheets work in ways that they had never been intended to, which made him quite useful when the numbers just did not add up. He really put those skills to the test this time, his fingers flying over the keyboard at top speed. The printer was soon spewing out data. Now came the hard part.
He picked up the pile of paper and carried them out of the computer-bank and into the small library where Doctor Ross did most of his work. It was fairly crowded today, and he grabbed the last free table. Laying the sheets out neatly in front of himself, he began eye-balling the data. Always a good place to start. He asked a passing intern for Personnel files on Agents Johansen and Frank, one of the other Agents to have recently turned on his partners. When she came back with the files, he asked her to kindly pull the files for Blayne and Thorne, Frank's partner and victim, as well.
He pushed aside the readouts for a moment to examine the files. To his surprise, he saw that not only had both Agents been under 'administrative supervision', but that he had signed the orders himself. Frowning, he leafed through the files to see why. When he saw it on paper, he quickly recalled when and why. It had been so routine that, at the time, he had thought nothing of it. Several months ago, Blayne had issued an order that all Agent's quarters were to be searched for contraband. When asked about pharmaceuticals, she had said that as long as they were legal in the present time, they were not his concern, but that he should 'keep an eye' on the Agents who such substances in their rooms.
He nodded slowly and read further only to confirm his own memory. Agent Frank: heroin. Agent Johansen: morphine. He sighed as the intern handed him the other files. Blayne: heroin. Although she did not keep it in her quarters, the criterion for supervision, she used it occasionally to treat her migraines, always going through proper channels and filling out all the appropriate paper-work. Except this time, apparently. He knew she had been using it; her behavior made that obvious. The slight tremor of her hand that he had attributed to stress, the slight slurring of her speech. Things he only noticed because he worked closely with her every day. She was clearly using heroin, but there was no note of it on her recent record.
He frowned and tried to piece the mystery together. Opiate drugs were a common denominator, but there was something else there, obviously, since Blayne was just fine. He picked up the files and walked over to Doctor Ross.
"We need to talk."
Doctor Ross looked up, surprised to hear Rizzo sounding so serious. "Sure. What is it?"
"In private, please. Your office."
Doctor Ross nodded and rose. He led Rizzo to his office and offered him a seat and a drink, both of which the young man gratefully accepted. "What can I do for you, Jack?"
"I think I've found something. I need access to the personnel files for all the Agents who have snapped and a random sampling of those who have not. For that, I need your computer."
"What do you think you've found?" Doctor Ross asked, typing his access code into his desk-top computer.
"Opiates." Rizzo told him. "Johansen and Frank were both on administrative supervision because of Opiate use."
"Good catch. We might never have caught that." Doctor Ross began typing. "Okay, I'm searching the files of the affected Agents for administrative supervision. We'll have to check manually for the reasons."
Rizzo nodded. "I think there's something else going on. I know that a lot of Agents use drugs, at least chip them, but-"
"Chip?"
Rizzo blinked. "Sorry. Recreational use. Chipping."
Doctor Ross smiled uncertainly. "Thank you for the education. I guess."
"Look, the point is, it can't just be the drugs. Blayne was taking heroin for her migraines during the same period as Johansen was taking morphine for his gun-shot wound. It's the same shit from the same base."
Doctor Ross continued typing. "So what are we missing?"
"Source!" Rizzo exclaimed suddenly. "That's gotta be, right?"
"Um…"
"No, man, think about it. If someone could get in and contaminate a supply of opium, that would contaminate all the heroin and morphine that came from that shipment."
"It's certainly an interesting theory. Where'd it come from?"
"Simple. Blayne. I know she's been using, 'cause she's got all the symptoms, but it's not in her records that she's been visiting the infirmary. Ergo, she's been buying it retail on the outside…" Rizzo sighed. "Can you check this theory out for me?"
"I'll page you when I have something."
"Thanks, man." Rizzo jumped from his seat and raced down the hallways to Blayne's office.
She put away the bottle when she heard him coming, taking one last sip before doing so. She turned back to the paperwork. Without looking up, she asked, "Yes, Agent Rizzo?"
"I think I've got it!"
She looked up, mildly surprised. "By it, I assume you mean the answer and not the problem?"
He nodded hastily and climbed onto the table, sitting in front of her. "First, though, I need you to be straight with me on something."
"Okay…" Blayne put her pen down and stared curiously at him. "Go ahead…"
"I know you've been using heroin, Blayne. I just want to know who you're getting it from."
Blayne recoiled slightly, surprised. She made a quick decision. "From a local apothecary, or chemist, or whatever the hell they call those people these days. You know, a pharmacist."
Rizzo nodded. "Good."
"Why is it good that I'm getting under the table what I should be getting above the board?"
"Because it means you're okay."
"I beg your pardon."
Blayne's intercom buzzed. "Is Agent Rizzo there?" Doctor Ross asked.
"Here, man. Talk to me."
"You were right. 89% of the Agents who snapped had received doses of either heroin or morphine from the dispensary."
Blayne bit her lower lip and slid her shaking hands under the table. "Well done, Riz." she said quietly. "But it only explains our problem, not those of the other agencies."
He shook his head and pointed at her. "Wrong. Opium-derived drugs are one of out income sources. We supply agencies all over Europe."
"Do we supply the Ottomans?"
He nodded. "Yeah…"
"Well done. Find out what's going on and get back to me." She smiled after him as he left. "Oh, holy mother…" she breathed. "This is not good…"
She knew she should have told him, but she felt just fine, and could not afford to be taken off of active duty at a time like this. It was a chance she had to take, and she promised herself that if she began feeling even a little off, she would tell Rizzo the truth.
"After all, I feel just fine."
*****
Rebecca and Phileas stared at Blayne and Rizzo as they made their bizarre pronouncement. Rebecca spoke first, weakly. "You're telling me that this is your fault?"
"Well, not us specifically…" Rizzo grinned sheepishly.
"But someone within your Agency? Poisoning drugs that you ship out all over Europe?"
Rizzo nodded and smiled apologetically.
"Or it could be someone on the outside targeting us." Blayne noted. "The League of Darkness jumps immediately to mind, and to them the collateral damage to other intelligence agencies would be icing on the cake."
Jules spoke, hesitantly. "I… I don't understand." He became aware that everyone was staring at him. "Well, I don't! How could so many good Agents be using Opium? It's a killer, and it plays games with your head."
Blayne sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Rebecca, what did the Doctor give you after you were shot?"
"Um, morphine."
"Jean, what's in your world-famous sleeping potion?"
"Um, is being morphine… among other things." Passepartout admitted.
Rizzo nodded. "And what's in the patent medicines that people these days are taking for everything from insomnia to tooth-ache to headache to depression?"
"Heroin." Blayne snapped. "And both are derived from opium, Jules. Do you get it now?" She stared apologetically at him.
He nodded slowly. "I guess so, yeah."
Rizzo spoke up quickly. "We need to go to Egypt. We need to figure out what's going on, and we need to do it fast. We supply half the intelligence agencies in Europe."
"With contaminated drugs?" Phileas demanded of him angrily.
Blayne placed herself between the two men. "It sure as hell looks that way, Fogg."
Rizzo held up his hand and peered around Blayne. "Where did Rebecca get her morphine from?"
"From my personal physician." Phileas stared at him. "What are you implying?"
"Is he affiliated with the British Secret Service?"
"Most certainly not."
"That's good." Rizzo said. "Very good."
"Yes it is." Blayne agreed. "Now, less arguing, more planning."
*****
Phileas waited quietly outside of Sir Jonathan's office. When he was led inside, he managed not to break the officious bureaucrat's nose, which was really quite an accomplishment under the circumstances.
Sir Jonathan looked up nervously. "Ah, Mister Fogg. What can I do for you today?"
"I trust you've heard the rumors?"
"That Miss Fogg has somehow managed to make her way back to England. Yes, most remarkable, I must say."
Phileas clenched his fists, but attempted a smile. It came out somewhere between a sneer and a snarl. "Yes, most remarkable, given the… circumstances."
"Surely you can't blame--"
"At present, it does not matter who the blame lies with. All that matters is that Rebecca is quite unwell and shall need some time off."
"Of course."
"I am taking her to Shillingsworth so that she may recover in peace." Phileas managed an actual smile this time, which Sir Jonathan found more intimidating than the previous expression. "I trust you have no objections?"
"No, of course not." Sir Jonathan said hastily. "Take all the time you need, of course."
"So kind of you." Phileas said evenly. "Good day."
Sir Jonathan heaved a sigh of relief as Phileas left. That man was highly unstable. He could not believe that he had ever made a proper intelligence agent. Which just went to show how destructive nepotism could be. And to think, Fogg had almost gotten away with his job. Sir Jonathan shook his head and returned to his work.
*****
Blayne met Phileas in the front hall of his home. "Did he buy it?" she asked eagerly.
"He certainly seemed to." Phileas nodded. "Or perhaps he was simply relieved that I did not give him a first-hand demonstration of what his callousness did to Rebecca." He smiled bitterly.
"Well, if you ever decide to, invite me along. I'll hold his sorry ass down for you."
"Much appreciated."
"My pleasure."
"Shall we be off then?"
Blayne nodded. "Rebecca's already aboard and sounds asleep. The others are just waiting for you."
"How is she?"
"Recovering. Slowly." Blayne sighed. "She's strong, she'll get there."
"I don't like bringing her along."
"I don't like leaving her alone. I've friends who will take care of her while we are… otherwise occupied."
"So long as she is safely out of the cross-fire."
Blayne smiled reassuringly. "If all goes well, Fogg, there won't be any cross-fire."
As they walked towards the Aurora, Fogg asked, "Well, where's the fun in that?"
