Author's note: So, so sorry to have taken so long on the chapter. No excuses except that the Fates wouldn't let me play with the Muses.
This one is long and mostly dialogue and exposition. There is a plot coming, and action, lots of action. I promise. BTW, I hope I got the conversation between Auggie and his buddies right. I'm the mom of a Marine, not a Ranger, and could only transpose what I know of Leatherneck lingo, or at least a G-rated version thereof. ;)
As always, thanks so very much for your generous comments, reviews, suggestions, and all the story alerts. Enjoy Chapter 3, and let me know what you think.
Chapter Three: Remembrance
Joan Campbell slumped in the hard plastic chair, and forced her body into a posture of despondency. Wearing frayed jeans, a down vest, and a cap that hid her blond hair, she scanned the crowd of damaged veterans that filled the waiting room in Bethesda Naval's behavioral health unit, seeking a face out of the past.
With feigned indifference, she forced herself to gaze into the haunted eyes and haggard faces of the young warriors who filled the room, praying all the while that the grief she felt at their struggles would not crack her carefully constructed mask. She thought of her friends, of Auggie, Danny, and others she had known who had gone through hell and back, and had returned home with scars that would never fully heal. Had Danny fallen victim to the despair she saw so plainly in the features of the young people waiting here?
She sank more deeply in her chair as she felt her eyes begin to sting. A grim smile touched her lips. What would her staff make of the Ice Queen of the DPD if they could see her now? Here, at least, in this place of despair and healing, tears would not seem out of place.
Auggie felt the car slow down and pull onto the shoulder. "Are we already there?" he asked.
Annie smiled. " No, we're still about an hour out. I just want to stretch my legs."
"Tired? You want me to drive?"
"Not that tired! Coming?"
Auggie paused the book he'd been listening to and removed his earbuds. "Do I have a choice?" Annie didn't answer, but he was pretty sure that she was making one of those cute faces that everyone was always so eager to tell him about. "So why are we stopping here?" he asked.
"To enjoy the view. It's breathtaking."
"If you say so."
"Fine. You stay here and play the crabby old blind guy if you like. There's a lookout here, and I'm going to spend a few minutes taking in the scenery. I might even take your picture if you lose the scowl."
"No compassion for the afflicted, Miss Walker, none at all."
"None, especially not when you try to play the pity card." Annie curled her hand around his arm and walked with him to the lookout."
Auggie felt the gravel crunch beneath his feet, and within a few steps, he sensed a vast emptiness open up before him. Annie set his hand on the weathered railing. "So, what are we looking at?" he asked.
"Wave after wave after wave of mountains," Annie exclaimed. "It's stunning. The colors are at their peak, and the afternoon sun is making everything look so vibrant. All ablaze in crimson, green, and gold. I wish you could see it..."
He swept his sightless gaze across the landscape, and tried to conjure up an image of what Annie was describing. In the years since he had lost his sight, his memory of colors was slowly dwindling away, and the harder he tried to hold on to the fleeting memories, the harder it was to remember. A few beloved images remained like faded photographs, sepia toned and frozen in time. But new experiences were built on his remaining senses, and try as he might, he could rarely form them into pictures.
He couldn't picture these mountains. Instead, he tried to remember the last time he'd driven the Blue Ridge Parkway in the fall. He'd been with Natasha and they'd spent the weekend camping and exploring the hills around Roanoke. He could still see the bits of leaves and twigs tangled in Tash's auburn curls. It was a good memory.
The pressure of Annie's fingers on his wrist drew him back to the present.
"Can you see it?"
Auggie took a breath and Tash's image dissolved into nothingness. "No, not really. But the sun's in my eyes," he added, giving her hand a pat.
"The sun's behind you, smartass," she retorted, but her answer lacked its usual spark.
"I know."
"I'm sorry," she added.
"Why?"
Annie didn't answer.
'Annie?" Auggie reached for her cheek and was surprised to find a hint of moisture. "It's that beautiful?" He felt her nod against his touch.
Auggie wasn't sure how to respond. No woman aside from his mother had ever cried for what he couldn't see. "It's okay, you know."
"I know. I'm just being silly."
"No, you're not. Now come on, this is getting entirely too serious. When are you going to take this picture you promised?"
Annie sniffled, and laughed. Then, leaning back against the guardrail, she took out her phone. "Smile" she said and snapped a picture of the pair of them with the brightly colored hills and brilliant blue sky in the background. "Perfect!"
"Make sure you send me a copy. I'll frame it and keep it on my desk."
"You're going keep a picture of us on your desk? Why exactly?"
"So you can describe the look on Jai's face when he sees it."
Joan caught the gaze of the man in the lab coat as he entered the waiting area. "Dr. Varga!" she called.
"Joan Nelson," he answered with an uncertain smile, threading his way through the crowd. "Is that truly you?" he asked when he reached her side. She seemed thin and drawn, and bore little resemblance the firecracker he had met in Budapest so many years ago. But there was no mistaking those eyes. "It is so good to see you after so many - "
"Not here," Joan whispered. Then louder, "It's downright claustrophobic in here, Doc, can we go outside?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Follow me."
Joan cast a quick glance about the room, then followed Varga outside.
"It's been a long time," Joan."
She smiled. "Yes, it has been. I was surprised to hear from you. After we said good-bye, I didn't expect to hear from you ever again. I always thought you would have returned to Hungary. It's a prosperous country now."
"I considered it... briefly," Varga answered, "but my work, and my friends are here. I visit now and then, but this is home now. I've even become an American."
"Congratulations, Charles. I know that couldn't have been easy, not after everything you risked for your country."
"We both took risks."
Joan smiled broadly. "Yes, we did. What matters is that they paid off."
They found a bench and sat beneath the trees. "It's been over twenty years, Charles, why reach out to me now?"
Varga hesitated. "You are still... still in the same line of work as you were in 1989?"
Joan shot him a quizzical look. "Why do you want to know that?"
"A former student of mine, a researcher sent me some data that didn't make sense to her. It doesn't make sense to me either, Joan. I thought... maybe..."
"What kind of data?"
"Case studies. Patient records. Statistics dealing with treatments and outcomes"
"That's not exactly my field."
"They were VA records."
"Still not my area. I can get them to the proper authorities, and then maybe - "
Varga silenced her with a look. "I was asked to look for patterns, similarities, Joan. In all the confused data, only one thing stood out. They were Special Forces. They worked for your people."
Joan said nothing for a moment. Instead she rose and began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the bench, channeling the fierce energy that coursed through her veins into an outward semblance of calm. When she felt certain her voice would not betray her she asked, "What do you have, exactly, Charles? Be specific."
Varga looked around, then answered in a whisper. "Results of experiments and unauthorized treatments. Off-label medication. Off-the-record therapies..."
"And these were experiments on U.S. veterans?"
"Yes."
"What kind of experiments?"
"I don't know... There are no details, only data as to the results."
"Who were the patients?"
"I don't know that either. I have no names, only numbers, regiments, and dates of deployment."
"Are the experiments still going on?"
"I don't know that either. The data comes to a sudden stop six months ago. I'm sorry, I wish I had more for you."
Joan ceased her pacing. "This student of yours... how did she come across this data? This doesn't sound like the sort of thing that people just leave lying around on their desks."
"She was researching PTSD and other psychological disorders among veterans, analyzing treatment outcomes. Looking for trends, patterns..."
Joan nodded. "And what does she have to say? Why isn't she here?"
Varga looked around nervously. "Is your car nearby?"
"In the parking lot."
"Come then, Joan. We will pay her a visit."
Annie watched as Auggie stepped cautiously over the threshold and set his bag by the door. "So, tell me about this place."
"It's a nice room, a fair size for an older building, fifteen by twenty or so, I'm guessing." She brushed the back of his hand and he prepared to follow her lead around the room. "We're in a sort of mini-foyer here. To the left of the door, there's a closet, and next to that, the bathroom. The room opens up here and there's a couch, a floor lamp and a couple of chairs on this side, and a desk on the right."
Auggie's cane struck a flimsy structure. "What's this?" he asked reaching out.
"A wooden screen, looks like an antique. It separates the sitting area from the sleeping area."
Auggie nodded as his mind began filling in the blanks. He located the bed, an armoire and a field stone fireplace. "Quite the romantic hideaway, as far as I can tell."
"Moving right along. There's a flat screen tv above the mantle. Then the door to my room, and we're back to the desk."
Auggie waggled his eyebrows. "There's a connecting door between our rooms?"
"You are incorrigible. I'm going to unpack and freshen up, Auggie. I suggest you do the same. A cold shower maybe? Meet you at six then we can go downstairs for drinks."
"Sounds like a plan," Auggie called, as he continued exploring his surroundings.
A short time and a shower later, Annie head a quiet knock on the connecting door.
"So I guess we're not locking this?"
"Probably safer not to, while we're in the rooms at least." Auggie's expression held no trace of his usual mischief.
"Okay, but just because you're the senior officer.
"Deference, finally!" Auggie exclaimed triumphantly. He stepped through the doorway and stopped just beyond the threshold. "So how's your room laid out?"
"A mirror image of yours. Let me grab a wrap and I'll be ready."
Annie returned to find Auggie gazing out the window. "Enjoying the view?"
"You know, it's the same as the one I see from my room."
"Considering it's dark out, there's not much to see."
Auggie grinned. "Just want to make sure the Agency's getting its money's worth." Serious again, he added, "Tell me what's out there."
"Playing the Eagle Scout again?"
"It always pays to be prepared."
"Well," Annie began, "there's no balcony, but you probably knew that already from having checked out the hotel online. Since we're on the third floor, we do have a nice view over the pool, garden and surrounding buildings."
"What kind of surrounding buildings?"
"There's a cabana at your nine o'clock with the pool to the left of it, and what might have been a carriage house or stable at two. There's a large verandah on the ground floor at our six o'clock, which overlooks a garden at twelve."
"That's good to know, in case I wake up with a craving for garden fresh Brussels sprouts."
Annie laughed. "You are a very strange man, Mr. Anderson."
"It's all part of my allure, Miss Walker. So, I'm guessing there's no private way to get down there from here?"
"There are two emergency exits, one at each end of the hallway, but you already knew that, too." Annie touched Auggie's arm. "Why are you scoping out escape routes."
"Force of habit, I guess. By the way, I ran a quick electronics sweep while you were getting ready."
"Find anything?"
"Nope. It's clean."
"Should I be on my guard?"
"You should always be on your guard, but no more so here than anywhere else," he added with a grin. "Don't worry. I'm just overcautious. We're here for a funeral. We'll take advantage of some New England hospitality on the Company's tab, pay our respects, and head home with fond memories and grist for the Langley rumor mill. You ready?" Auggie asked, reaching for Annie's elbow.
Annie locked the connecting door before joining him. "Ready."
They had only taken a few steps down the corridor when Auggie came to a sudden halt.
"Forget something?"
Auggie chewed his lip, looking genuinely concerned. "Annie, there aren't that many hotels around here. There's a good chance we may run into some of my army buddies downstairs."
"Is that a problem?"
"They know my employer..." he continued cryptically.
"...But they don't know mine... " Annie added, completing Auggie's unvoiced thought.
"Exactly. Might be best if we head down separately. You go first. I'll wait a few minutes and meet you in the bar."
"Okay." She took a step,stopped, and turned around. "Auggie... how are you going to find me?"
Auggie reached for her shoulder, and drew her close. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, leaned in, and closed his eyes as he breathed in her scent. "Jo Malone Grapefruit and verbena shampoo." He stepped away, with his eyes still closed and a blissful smile on his lips. "If I have to sniff every neck in the place, trust me, Annie Walker, I will find you."
Jukebox music and a hum of voices guided Auggie towards the bar. Somewhere not too far off his right, a man was speaking in hushed tones to a companion who responded in giggles. At the far end of the room, good natured ribbing and laughter indicated a group of friends, workmates maybe, celebrating the arrival of the weekend with a few drinks, and, if he wasn't mistaken, a game of darts. This place must be the local version Allen's, he thought and smiled... minus the spooks, of course.
The rattle of a cocktail shaker told him the bar was just a few steps ahead and to his left. He found the first barstool with his cane, then trailed his hand along the backs of the seats, until he encountered warm skin and a familiar scent. "I'm so sorry," he smiled in a manner that held no hint of remorse. "I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't see you there."
"That line seems well-rehearsed. Does it usually work?"
"Never failed me yet," he answered as he folded his cane and took a seat. "May I buy you a drink Miss..."
"Walker. Anne Walker."
"Well, Miss Anne Walker, what are you drinking?"
They were on to their second round, heads close in conversation, when a familiar drawl sounded at Auggie's back. "Anderson! You dog!"
"Curtis!"
"Yeah, it's me, Bro. Dammit, even blind, you still manage to zero in on the prettiest girl in the room."
Auggie stood up, and reached out his hand. Instead of the expected handshake, he found himself gripped in a bone-crushing hug.
"Dude, you must have some crazy kind of sixth sense when it comes to women," a second voice chimed in from behind Curtis' shoulder.
"Still leaves me with only five," Auggie laughed. "Graham, how's it going?"
"I'm good. You're looking a damn sight better than when I last saw you," the younger man added.
"I am better," Auggie replied. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you guys. I won't ever forget that." Auggie listened for more familiar voices, but the noise level in the bar had risen steadily since he'd first arrived. "Anyone else here that I should know about?"
"Josh has a table over in the corner, if you want to join us." Curtis cast a glance in Annie's direction. "Unless you had other plans."
"Just give me a second." Auggie turned to Annie. "Gotta run, Honeybun. He leaned in closer and handed Annie his phone. "Give me your number?" She gave it back a moment later. "Later, doll," he said with a wink.
"Dammit, Auggie, I dunno how you do it," Curtis muttered as he guided his friend to the table.
"What can I say? The ladies love a blind guy. Tommy here?"
"Nah. He's on a mission. Libya, I think. We're at the table," Curtis said, placing Auggie's hand on the back of a vacant chair.
From across the table, Auggie heard a chair being shoved back, and the faint but distinctive sound of a hydraulic knee. "Josh! How you doing, man!" he said reaching out his hand. It was soon clasped in a firm, calloused grip.
"I'm good, Auggie. I'm getting the hang of things. It's good to see you! Wish it were under better circumstances."
"Me, too."
They settled into their chairs, drawing close around the table, even as a pitcher of beer appeared.
"Courtesy of the gentleman at the end of the bar," the waiter explained. "Sam Hayward, a Korean War vet. For years he was head of the local Legion branch. He's slowing down a little, but there still isn't much that happens 'round here that he doesn't notice."
Auggie and his friends raised their mugs to the old man. "Think it's true," Graham asked, "that old soldiers never die?"
"I dunno," Curtis replied, "But the young ones sure do." He raised his glass. "To absent friends."
"Keep on leading the way up there, Ranger," Auggie added. "You'll have some good men up there with you, Frenchie."
Taking another drink, Mike added, "We won't forget. Once a Ranger..."
"...always a Ranger!" they responded in unison.
They drank in silence a while, thinking back on old times and remembering the friends they had lost along the way. "So, Auggie," Curtis asked after a time, "did you find out anything else since we talked?"
He shook his head. "No. I was hoping you might know something. What about you, Graham? You were over there with him on his last tour."
"You know what it's like. What we do... it hasn't gotten any easier... or any cleaner.."
"It's like the song says," Josh broke in, "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss."
"There's still bad guys out there," Curtis added. "Someone's gotta stop 'em. Might as well be us."
Auggie frowned. "So who was he after last time 'round?"
Graham leaned in close. "Adam Yahiye Gadahn," he whispered.
Auggie frowned. "He's American."
"A homegrown terrorist. An American who urges his followers to kill Americans from his compound in Pakistan." Curtis' voice grew harsh. "He's got hundreds of messed up Muslim kids over here committing to Jihad. He wants another 9/11. American or not, I've got no qualms about takin' him out if he should ever wander into my sights."
The group fell silent. "So what happened?" Auggie asked after a while.
Graham took a long drink before answering. "I dunno. One day he gets this phone call, and takes off in a Humvee without saying nothin' to nobody. When he gets back a few days later, that's when he starts talking 'bout quitting."
Josh broke in. "Look, guys, we all know what it's like. None of us comes back unscathed. Some of us come back in a box. Some, like me and Auggie with parts missing or broken. And some, like Frenchie, with something broken deep inside, that can't be seen on the surface."
Graham shook his head. "We seen and done some crazy shit. You know that. But whatever happened to Frenchie on that mission...whatever his orders were, it was bad enough to make him give up his career. He couldn't get out fast enough. And once he was out, that's the last we heard from him."
"Because you're all still in." Auggie thought back to his own conversations with Frenchie. His former lieutenant had seemed pleased to hear from him, glad to be a civilian again. Auggie prided himself on his ability to read voices. If anyone had asked him at the time, he would have said that Frenchie sounded just fine. Happy, even. He replayed their last conversation in his mind. He could still hear his friend's lighthearted banter. What had he missed? What was he missing still?
A hand on his shoulder drew him back to the present. "Auggie, man, you okay?"
"Yeah, Curtis, just thinking..."
"You know, maybe it really was just an accident..."
Auggie nodded, although his instincts told him otherwise. "Yeah. Maybe I'm just overthinking."
Curtis slapped him on the shoulder. "You always were one to think too much. He got out. He went to therapy to help him ease back into civilian life, and before he could really enjoy being a farmer, he hits a patch of ice, and that's it. You know, when your number's up, it's up."
Auggie straightened up "He went into therapy?
"Yeah, a few months after he got out. He told me he was seeing a VA shrink."
"Did he tell you why?"
"Said he needed to work some things out. I figured it was just part of the exit protocol. Look, didn't you go to therapy when you got out?"
"Yeah, but it was probably for different reasons. And I didn't see a VA shrink."
Graham put down his beer with an audible thud. "Why don't you just come out and say it. You think Frenchie killed himself."
Auggie shook his head. He leaned in closer to the group. "I don't want to think it. I don't know what to think. All I know is that the accident story doesn't add up."
"Why would he kill himself?" Graham asked. "All he ever talked about was taking over the family farm."
"Let it go, Auggie," Josh said. "You're like a dog with a bone. He's gone. Let him rest in peace."
"You're right," he said, and he emptied the last of his beer. He flipped open the crystal of his watch and felt the time. "It's been a long day and it's getting late..."
"... not to mention there's a hot blonde that's waiting for you," Curtis added.
He unfurled his cane to an accompaniement of hoots and whistles. "You guys know me too well. See you tomorrow?"
"We'll be there."
He entered his room and was making his way to Annie's door, when he crashed into a chair. Muttering a curse under his breath, he returned the chair to its proper place beneath the desk. Moving more slowly now, he continued making his way to the connecting door. and stumbled over a waste basket. A waste basket he clearly remembered having moved next to the dresser and out of his way. His senses alert, he ran his hands over the desk and dresser. Everything was still there, but slightly out of place. A shiver of apprehension crept up his spine.
Someone had been here.
To be continued.
