The Chicago Police Department's bomb squad spent the next four hours evacuating the hotel and removing the explosives. No one could contact the manager, Marvin Callahan. Guests weren't told exactly what the evacuation was about, only that it was urgent. Princess Sibella was made at home in the consulate's guest room, Turnbull on guard in the foyer.
"Gary, I'll need your statement first thing in the morning." Ray walked into the lobby with the bar owner. It was past midnight, hotel guests were slowly filing back into their rooms.
"Yea, sure, no problem." Gary nodded, his suit jacket hanging over his arm, his newspaper underneath and his tie loosened around his neck.
"Ray, would you mind terribly, driving me back to the consulate?" Benton asked, his Stetson in his hand. The bomb squad officers moved along the lobby, heading toward the loading dock where they'd parked the department's vehicles.
"Sure, Fraser." The detective shrugged, he'd already spent half the day sitting in the Hilton lobby, why drive clear across town. That's just what friends did and Ray had learned that from Fraser.
"Will you give my regards to the princess, tell her I'm sorry I had to leave early." Gary approached Fraser, Chuck talking to a tired blonde in the lobby.
"Yes, certainly, Gary." The mountie smiled politely. "Do you plan on being at the museum tomorrow?" Fraser caught Gary as he headed out the door.
"I don't know, it depends on my schedule." Gary flashed the Paper. It kept him out all hours of the day or night.
"I see, well, shall I leave a ticket at the door for you?" Fraser offered.
"That'd be great, I'll come if I can." Gary shuffled toward the hotel entrance.
Scene Break
"This is Meg Thatcher, leave a message at the tone and I'll call back as soon as I can." The machine replayed her greeting message after she hit the button. She sighed when the tin sounding, female voice told her there were no messages. Fruitless, Meg knew, but she hoped to hear Fraser's voice in at least one message that didn't pertain to the damn, Canadian Consulate. In her more reckless, chocolate induced, moods she considered resigning her commission and dragging Benton Fraser off to the deepest, darkest holler she could find. Then Meg's blood sugar would return to normal and she'd put the fantasy on hold for a while longer.
"One of these days, Benton Fraser, I'll get you to open up, one way or another." Meg vowed to herself for the hundredth time that week. With a sigh, she went to get ready for bed, making sure to lay her favorite pants suit out for the next day and the evening gown she planned to wear to the gala event at the museum. She laid out her jewelry and shoes for the next evening's event. A smile spread across her face when Meg remembered Gary and the way he'd looked at her. She hadn't felt that appreciated in a long time. It didn't take the lady mountie long to drift off to sleep thinking of the hunky American.
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By the time Ben got back to his apartment he was so tired he was almost dragging. Still, the one thing that stuck out was how Meg glowed every time she looked at Gary. From what the mountie noticed, the feeling was mutual. Part of Ben hated that. Another part of him saw Gary as a comrade in arms, an ally. Thinking about it felt like a tornado had took up residence in his stomach. If only she weren't his superior office. Fraser cold recite the RCMP regulations about fraternization between junior and senior officers. That didn't keep him from wishing she glowed like that for him.
"Hello, Diefenbaker." Fraser ran his fingers through the wolf's fur after he shut the front door. Tossing his hat on the arm chair, Ben stepped into the kitchen and retrieved Dief's kibble and poured him a bowl. The intuitive wolf looked up at him with his amber eyes, his head turned to one side.
"You didn't miss anything, Dief, I've been at the Chicago Hilton for the last four hours or so." The toll of the day settling in, Ben sat down at the kitchen table and began taking off his boots. They were supportive, but he was still glad to be rid of the leather contraptions. He stretched his cramped toes.
"I'm afraid I didn't miss enough." Ben sighed, feeling old and stifled. The things he wanted to say shifted around in his mind. I love the way your eyes shine in candlelight. I love the way your shampoo smells. I can't forget the way your kiss tasted. I see the way you hide your insecurities. I watch you sometimes while you eat lunch in the park. Ben saw her eating on a bench, the sun on her skin as one shoe dangled from her toe. He could see Meg as clearly as if she were in the room with him, her head back to enjoy the afternoon rays.
After eating what he wanted of his kibble, Dief walked back to Ben and laid his head on the man's knee. Absently, Ben stroked the soft fur, still wrapped up in his memory.
"She deserves to know, Dief, I should tell her one way or another." Ben leaned back in the chair. The next thing he knew he was falling of the stiff backed kitchen chair. Stretching his stiff muscles, Ben shuffled off to bed for the night.
Scene Break
Sibella dialed her parents' private phone number slowly. They'd be very worried when they heard about the attempt to steal the Morenian Relic. When she began recounting the story her mother corrected her. They'd already heard. She'd assured them she was fine and had been under the very watchful eye of three mounties at the time. Sibella wondered how her parents found out so soon.
"Father, I am quite fine. There are wonderful, Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers scarcely ten feet away at any given moment." Sibella assured her father in her best, soothing voice.
"I know, Dear, I am simply concerned about your safety." the worry in the king's voice could be heard half a world away.
"I have Constable Turnbull right outside the door and Gary Hobson is my guardian angel." Sibella bubbled.
"Gary Hobson," The king's voice became harsh, "what have you been up to, Sibella Katarina Anika?"
"Nothing, Father, he assisted the consulate's car with a flat tire yesterday morning so I invited him to dinner, that is all." Sibella cursed herself for letting his name slip. She bit her lip as she listened to her father's thunderous admonishment over the phone.
"Yes, Father, I'll cut my vacation short. I'll make arrangements to leave Saturday morning." Sibella sighed, wishing she could instead extend her vacation. Chicago was such a beautiful city and she'd seen so little of it. Mostly, she wanted to get to know Turnbull better. He'd been delightful company the last two days. Sibella hung up, disappointment swirling around her.
"At least I get to see Constable Reinfeld Turnbull tomorrow." Sibella smiled. With her head full of the lanky, blond constable, the princess laid out her attire for the next day and called for a six o'clock wake-up call.
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Chuck pulled into the alley behind the bar, letting Gary out of the car. All Gary wanted was to pull on his PJ's and sleep.
"Sweet dreams, Gary." Chuck stared at him, confused but sensing his friend's innuendo.
"Go home, Chuck." The Paper carrier waved his buddy away.
"I saw how you eyed that Inspector Thatcher, Gary." Chuck wagged a finger at the man. It wasn't often Gary gave a woman a second glance.
"Don't start, Chuck." Gary warned, knowing how his buddy would beat him over the head with the inspector.
"Go for it, buddy, ask her out." A smile as broad as the Mississippi split the minikin businessman's face. Gary waved him away again then turned to leave.
Despite the late hour, McGinty's was still in full swing. In the kitchen the catering staff had finished stowing away their supplies and the bar staff was busy taking care of patrons. Gary ignored them all and walked up the stairs to his apartment. It wasn't the Ritz Carlton, but it was home and it was comfortable. Cat eyed him from the window sill, his golden eyes blinking. Gary didn't bother talking to the cat, his unwanted guest. They'd long since come to an uneasy truce. Gary saw to the Paper's schedule and Cat kept his own council.
"If today was any measure of Princess Sibella's vacation, I don't want to know what's in store for tomorrow." Gary kicked off his shoes, threw his coat and tie on the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt. Five minutes later he was face down in his comfy bed, deep asleep. Cat sat silently on the window sill, looking down at the alley below.
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