Chapter 46

Abby had only one week of her contract with the foundation left when she woke up suddenly on the morning of Friday, July 25th. She hadn't heard from Jamie for three weeks, since he'd called her on the 4th of July; before he left for Kansas City he'd explained that there would be periods when he couldn't contact her, but that if something went wrong, Lee would tell her right away. It wasn't easy to wait for news, but she kept busy with the Stetson children, her job at the foundation, and her story books, and she prayed that Jamie would be safe.

She glanced at the digital clock beside her bed and read the time as 4:12, nearly two hours before she usually woke up at six. "Jamie, wherever you are, be safe, Super Spy," she thought. She said a prayer for him, accepted that her night's sleep was over, and decided to get up and make herself a cup of tea. She had a microwave and an electric kettle in her basement 'studio apartment', but when she checked the tea bag stash, she realized she was out of herbal teas. Amanda had a stash upstairs, though, so she put on a robe and slippers and went up to see what she could find.

She found a chamomile herbal blend called "Sweet Dreams" and opened the packet, sniffed at the tea, and waited for the water to boil. The kettle didn't whistle, it just shut off when the water was hot, so she didn't have to worry about waking anyone else up. She'd just dipped the tea bag into the hot water and set it to steep when Amanda, also in a robe, came into the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Amanda, did I wake you up? I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come up for some chamomile tea," Abby said.

"No, you didn't wake me up, but I'm glad you're awake. Sit down, Abigail."

That didn't sound good, but Abby sat, and Amanda sat with her.

"Lee just took a call from John Werkema, who's in charge of the Denver office. Jamie's been shot. He's on his way to the hospital in Billings, Montana, he's stable, and he's being flown in by helicopter, so he should be there very soon. NEST, the National Emergency Surgical Team that we call in when a federal agent is hurt or wounded like this, is inbound from Denver, also by air. John says Jamie took a round to the right shoulder and another one to the left thigh, but it missed the femoral artery. Neither wound is life- threatening, but of course he'll have to have surgery to remove the bullets and repair the damage."

"Of course. Thank God he's all right. No wonder I couldn't sleep."

"Yes, when people you love are in danger, you just know it, don't you?"

"Yes."

Lee came into the room wearing pajama pants and an old t-shirt.

"I told her," Amanda said. "She's handling it very well."

"I have cousins and cousins-in-law in law enforcement – two sheriff's deputies and a Nebraska State Patrol officer. This isn't the first time someone has called in the middle of the night to tell us that someone's been shot and ask us to pray," Abby said. "He was in Montana?"

"Denver needed someone who could pose as a college kid hiking in the Absaroka Mountains so we could get close enough to a very remote compound run by a domestic terrorist group. Ironically, the leader, Paul Sacher, is the son of another man Amanda and I had to take out nearly twelve years ago. Sacher's son was only sixteen back then and still living with his mother when his father was killed trying to shoot down the president's helicopter, but he's been plotting revenge all these years."

"Did our people get him?"

"In a manner of speaking; he shot Jamie and one officer of the Montana Highway Patrol Special Response Team and then turned the gun on himself."

"What a terrible waste of what could have been a productive life, and all because he couldn't see that you did what you had to do, Lee."

"Yes. Anyway, I've made some calls, and I can get you onto a flight from National to Billings this morning, although you'll have to change planes in Chicago and again in Denver. I'll fix it with Matt Davis so you don't have to come back, and we'll get your truck out to you; Amanda and I can do that."

"If you can get it as far as Kansas City, that's plenty far."

"No, we're going all the way to Alliance," Amanda said firmly. "I want to see Jamie – I know he'll want to take his convalescent leave at home with you - and I want to meet your family. We'll leave the kids here with Leeanne and Jack."

"That's going to go over like a lead balloon," Lee said. "I can hear the whining and complaining now."

"Bring them with you; my parents would love to meet them too. It means taking two cars, of course, since you won't all fit in the truck, but you haven't had a vacation yet this summer," Abby said.

"We could do that. If Phillip can wangle the time off, he can help with the driving," Amanda mused.

"I know his boss. I'll see what I can do," Lee said with a smile. "And then we can all come back in the Tahoe, or if Phillip wants to, he can fly back. We'll work it out."

Abby's flight left National at 7:30. Lee had called Phillip at 5:30, which is when Phillip usually woke up so he could go running before breakfast, and had given him the news about Jamie. Phillip had promised to clean out Abby's desk and bring her personal belongings back to the house, and together he and Lee came up with a story about why she'd left in such a hurry. Matt Davis would be told the truth, of course, but the rest of the foundation staff would only be told that a member of Abby's family had been wounded in the line of duty as a law enforcement officer and she'd flown home to be with the rest of her family. "Abby gave us the idea when she said that she had cousins in law enforcement who'd been wounded in the line of duty," Lee told his older stepson. "It's the perfect cover story."

The flight to Chicago only took about two hours, so that Abby walked into her arrival gate at O'Hare at 8:45, only to see a man holding a sign that said, "Abigail Kozal".

She walked up to him and said, "I'm Abby Kozal. Did Lee send you?"

"Parker Peterson, Agent in Charge here. Yes, Scarecrow asked me to meet you and VIP you through to your next gate. When you get to Denver, John Werkema will meet you and get you on the plane to Billings."

"I really appreciate the help, Mr. Peterson."

"Pete, and the Agency takes care of its own, Miss Kozal."

"Abby, please."

"I have a courtesy car waiting; O'Hare is a big and confusing place, and you don't have a lot of time to make your next flight."

She climbed into the electric car and they began to move. As they drove, Peterson said, "Our driver is Agency, Abigail, so we can speak freely. No one will hear you above the crowd noise. At last report, Iceman was out of surgery and resting comfortably."

"Iceman? That's his code name? I didn't know, but then I've only known him for about six weeks. It's because he doesn't like ice in his cold drinks, isn't it?"

"That, and the fact that the boy has ice in his veins when it comes to the job. But then, he was raised by the Scarecrow. I hear you've been living in their basement for the last six weeks."

"I was. It was wonderful. Amanda is…Amanda."

"Yeah, we all love her. Do you need to make a comfort stop? We have time and there's a ladies' room right over there."

"Yes, thank you."

Even with the stop, Peterson and their Agency driver, Figueroa, got her to her boarding gate in plenty of time. She shook hands with them, thanked them, and checked in with the gate agent, who told her that she'd been upgraded to first class. She'd never flown first class before, although she knew Jamie did so all the time because of his job. A few minutes later, she boarded, found her window seat in the second row, and settled in for the flight to Denver.

The flight landed at eleven o'clock mountain time, and this time a tall redhead was holding the sign with her name on it. She walked over to him and said, "John Werkema? I'm Abby Kozal. Thank you for meeting me."

"I'm glad to be able to report that our Iceman is doing well at last report, Miss Kozal, and that since your flight doesn't leave for another ninety minutes and it's been a long time since breakfast, I have orders from Scarecrow to take you to lunch. There's a place just down the concourse on the way to your next gate that serves a very good chef's salad, if that sounds good."

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Werkema. They served me a snack on the plane, but I could certainly go for a full meal."

"Right this way, then, and call me John."