Thanks for the kind words on the previous chapter ...it was another one that I enjoyed writing, but wasn't sure how it would be received.
Sabrina moved as quietly as she could across the room, trying her best not to make a sound and disturb Henry. She'd tried to get some sleep, but there were too many thoughts running round in her mind.
The half-empty bottle of scotch was still on the small table next to Henry's chair. She unscrewed the lid and poured herself a generous measure. If she was going to be awake all night, then she figured that she may as well have a drink.
She made her way over to the window and perched on the arm of the sofa; cradling the whisky tumbler in her hand, and looking out over the lights of the city. She heard the sound of movement from the next room, and moments later heard the sound of snuffling as Missy pushed open the swing door from the kitchen and made her way into the room.
The black Labrador pushed her nose under Sabrina's free hand and wagged her tail hopefully. Sabrina couldn't help but smile softly, and she duly stroked the dog's silky ears.
"Wondering what I'm doing up at this hour huh?" she asked the dog, keeping her voice to a whisper.
Her response was another nudge to her hand, and the sound of the dog's tail batting gently against the furniture.
"So you couldn't sleep either?"
She took a sip of whisky and then lowered herself down onto the floor, leaning up against the sofa. Missy soon settled down next to her, resting her head on Sabrina's legs.
Memories of childhood flashed through her mind. When she'd been small there had always been a dog in the house, and when she'd found herself moved to another new base; uprooted and taken away from everything that had been familiar, there would be usually be at least one night in the new home where she couldn't sleep, and so she'd sit up and the dog would keep her company.
Such concerns seemed trivial now. Henry was asking her to keep a secret for him. She knew that it was something that she should talk to the others about; they had a right to know, but the look on Henry's face when he'd asked her to keep the information quiet had been enough to make her stop. She didn't want to think about the fact that within months Henry would be gone. He was so fiercely alive that the whole situation seemed unreal. But she knew all too well the way that things could change; things that you thought would always be there could be snatched away in a heartbeat.
Henry's sudden change of heart regarding the crash now made sense. He'd be gone before the anniversary ever came around. He'd never had any intention of talking to anyone about what happened that night. It was just his way of getting the last laugh on the journalists who hounded him.
She sighed heavily and scratched Missy behind the ears; the dog's tail thumping against the floor in response. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep until she'd worked things through in her mind. Henry's confession providing her with a reason to ignore the other issue that was nagging away in her brain and keeping her from restful sleep.
She turned her head and glanced at the scotch bottle. It was probably just as well that it was now out of reach. The mood she was in she was certain that she could easily make a sizable dent in the contents.
Carl opened one tired eye and tried to focus on the face of his alarm clock. It was a little before 3am. He pulled his pillow over his head in a vain effort to drown out the sound of the ringing phone. It had started up over a minute ago and was showing no signs of letting up.
There was a heavy thud from the next apartment as his neighbour let him know exactly what he thought of the disturbance.
Realising that the only way to stop the night time intrusion into his sleep was to answer the phone, Carl reluctantly dragged himself to his feet and padded across his apartment.
"Hello?" he croaked into the receiver.
"I have a little something that may interest you Mr Douglas," the male voice on the other end of the phone told him.
"Who is this?" he growled. "If it's some kind of a joke..."
"The final recording of K47 is up for grabs," the voice continued on, betraying no emotion. "There is a price for the recording Mr Douglas. The question is ... do you have anything that meets the seller's valuation?"
"What!" Carl was suddenly all ears.
"There is a price to be paid Mr Douglas. We need a show of good faith before any transaction can take place. A life for a life Mr Douglas. Whose will you offer?"
"What?" Carl wiped the sleep from his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he yelled into the phone, but all that he heard was the burring of the dial tone. Numbly he replaced the receiver and tried to process what he'd just been told.
Henry pulled back the curtains and winced as bright sunlight flooded the room. The sky was cloudless and it looked as though it was shaping up to be another warm day.
"Alright, alright," he muttered as Missy danced around at his feet. "Not all of us are morning people. I thought we'd established that."
Missy briefly left his side and headed for the door, one thing only on her mind. Henry grumbled and followed her, slipping his bare feet into the shoes that he always kept by the phone. They were long past being what he thought of as serviceable footwear, but they were good enough for putting on to let Missy out for her morning constitutional. He scooped the keys up out of the old shell he kept them in and made his way towards the front door.
He'd had only opened the door an inch when a sudden movement caught his eye. A buff coloured envelope fluttered towards the floor. It had obviously been stuck into the jamb of the door. Henry frowned and bent down to pick it up, doing his best to ignore Missy who was keen to get past him and closer to the outside world.
Sliding one finger under the edge of one corner, he ripped open the top of the envelope and removed the letter. Like the envelope, it had been typed. There were only a few scant words on the sheet, but they made his blood run cold.
SHE'LL BE NEXT.
Missy's impatient bark pulled him back to his senses, and he pushed the letter into the pocket of his trousers as Sabrina appeared behind him in the hallway.
"Is everything all right?" she asked sleepily.
"It's fine," Henry snapped back at her. "You never see a man letting his dog out in the morning?"
Sabrina took a pace back and rubbed at her tired eyes. "I'll put the coffee on then, shall I?"
Falcone waited impatiently for Jarek to finish his report. "So she's still there?"
Jarek nodded. "Looks as though she's moved in."
"If she is government that you can't be seen hanging around there. She's bound to have others staking out the building by now. No-one was supposed to see you; that was part of the deal. Did you leave the note as we agreed?"
Jarek nodded. "It would have been as easy just to do the job then."
"We need to maintain a certain distance." Falcone glanced towards the phone. "Get yourself some rest. I have a call to make and a deal to strike. One that will put everything we need into our hands."
Jarek thought about asking Falcone to explain, but then realised that he truly didn't care. He pushed himself to his feet, pausing as he reached the door.
"When you deal with her..."
Falcone smiled. "Yes Mr Lazic, I will make sure you are included. It's good to see you getting so...involved with your work."
Falcone waited for the door to close behind Jarek before reaching for the receiver.
Carl reached out and brought his hand down firmly on top of his alarm clock, wondering why the ringing sound continued unabated. His head felt as though it was full of cotton wool. Sleep had taken a long time to reach him following the early morning call. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared blearily across the room as he realised that it was the phone that was ringing. The man on the end of the call last time had indicated that a price had to be paid for the tape –he wasn't certain that he understood exactly what the man had been getting at. The mere thought of the tape brought a smile to his face. If it were truly out there, then it would give him the edge. He pushed himself to his feet, heading for the receiver. He would pay whatever the caller wanted if he could satisfy himself that the tape was genuine. He flexed his fingers as he reached for the phone. If this was the same caller, then he was certainly in the mood for discussion.
"There's coffee in the pot and toast on the go," Sabrina called out as she heard the front door open.
Moments later there was the now familiar sound of paws skittering on the wooden floor of the hallway, before Missy bounded into the kitchen, tail wagging furiously.
"So you're the one in this place who's a morning person," she told the dog as she knelt down to make a fuss of her.
"You didn't have to make coffee."
Sabrina lifted her head as she heard Henry's voice from the doorway. "It's no bother. If I'm honest I don't think I can function without at least one cup of coffee first thing."
He smiled at her words but said nothing further; an awkward silence falling between the two of them. When Sabrina realised that Henry wasn't going to say anything further, she turned her attention back to the toast that was starting to brown under the grill.
"I'm sorry... about earlier..." Henry's words were hesitant.
Sabrina kept her attention focused on the grill, switching off the power and pulling the light brown toast out from under the heat. She placed the new slices into the remaining slots in the rack and then loaded them onto the tray that she'd already prepared with the rest of the breakfast things.
"Food first," she told him. "And then we can work out where we go next."
"Didn't you hear what I said?" Henry grumbled, making no effort to move from where he stood.
"I heard you. You've nothing to apologise for."
An impatient whine from Missy broke the tension that was still in the air.
"You're outvoted," Sabrina told him as she carried the tray over to the table. "Looks as though there are two of us here who are eager for breakfast."
Henry looked as though he was going to say something more but then gruffly nodded his head and followed her to the table.
Kris glanced across at the clock. There was still another hour until the meeting that Bosley had called, but she found that she couldn't leave the subject of Menzies alone.
Kelly had tried to get her to talk about her visit the previous night, but guilt had played too heavily on her mind. She'd had the tape in her hands and she'd lost it. She'd managed to put one of her friends in danger in the process. Kelly had done her best to pull her out of her reverie, but the situation had played too heavily on her mind and she'd retired to bed early.
Now in the warmth of a new day she knew that she had to face things head on. She sat across the table from Kelly and tried to fill her friend in on a few of the details about her trip.
"I wasn't able to find out who it was who buys them, but there's always a fresh bouquet of flowers at the memorial stone. After talking to the rather hostile group by the base I don't imagine that it's one of them."
"Could be one of the relatives of the crash victims," Kelly pointed out, relieved that her friend was finally starting to open up.
"The flowers come from the local florist, but she wasn't giving away any information about the customer. No amount of persuading would get her to tell me anything."
"You think she was being paid to be quiet?"
Kris shook her head. "Not about this. I think it was just good old-fashioned customer loyalty. Although loyalty seemed to be a rare commodity in that part of the world."
"What do you mean?"
"Well if folks hadn't sold their stories to Carl Douglas they were on the look out for money. Sullivan's ex-wife certainly wouldn't win any prises for charm."
"What was she like?"
"Bitter. Got the impression that she wouldn't care if she never saw Henry again." She paused and ordered her thoughts. "From talking to folks there, the one picture I didn't get of Henry Sullivan was that of hero." She reached across and picked up a copy of the photo that had made his name. "That photo doesn't scream gambler and troublemaker does it? But from what the good people of Menzies have told me, he wasn't exactly the model soldier."
She placed the picture back down on the table and met Kelly's troubled expression. "What's up?"
"You're not the only one to question Sullivan," she admitted. "Carl Douglas is adamant that he's a fraud." She shrugged her shoulders. "He won't actually tell me what he's basing his opinions on, but he seems pretty damned certain." She broke off before glancing again at Kris. "Promise me you won't tell Bri what I'm about to tell you?"
"What is it?"
"You've got to promise me. I really don't think that Bri would be happy with the questions I've asked."
Kris held up her hands, concerned by her friend's demeanour. "I promise."
"General Warner seemed so determined that Sullivan should be protected that it got me to wondering if there was anything that he wasn't telling us." She paused and then looked down at her hands. "I've requested Sullivan's army records... all of them. Everything from the day he signed up until now. Maybe they'll show nothing, but I just can't get past the fact that Carl is so suspicious of him..." she tailed off unsure of how to continue.
"You like this guy, don't you?"
There was a pause. "I like the Carl Douglas that I've seen."
"Meaning?"
"You get Bri to talk about him and you'll hear about a completely different person. It's safe to say that she won't be standing for president of his fan club any time soon!"
"You really think that Bri would be angry with you calling up Sullivan's records?"
"Without mentioning it to her first...yes. She thinks he's something special. With the events of the past couple of days I don't want to upset her unnecessarily. If there's nothing in them then I won't have to mention it."
"And if there is something there?"
Kelly raised her eyes and met Kris' searching gaze. "We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it."