The Wayward Mistress
Chapter 2
In the morning, Terry packed a few things in her duffle and went back downstairs and out the door. Craig came to his office doorway and looked at the men in confusion. Chief was looking out the window, shaking his head.
"I'd say she's not gonna be comin' back here for a while," he drawled.
"Which way did she turn?" asked Garrison.
"North," said Chief. "London or Archbury."
She would have to debrief with somebody. Craig looked at his second with exasperation. Actor looked up at him and guessed what was coming next. "No!" the con man said firmly. "She is your sister. If you want her back here, you get her yourself." The Italian got up and strode out to the kitchen. They heard the back door open and close.
"Well," said Casino with disgust. "I guess that means we're still eatin' rations."
"Yeah, and it's your turn to cook 'em, Mate," said Goniff.
After a breakfast of scrambled powdered eggs, as the chickens were not laying as many now the weather was colder, some British bacon, thinly sliced and fried, and the last of the bread, toasted in thin slices, Garrison told Actor to come to his office.
The con man assumed he was in trouble for his treatment of Teresa and his response to her brother. He wasn't wrong.
Garrison glared at the older man over the top of his desk. "As I recall, you were the one who dragged her out of there."
"Yes," agreed the con man. "I did. What the hell was she thinking, trying to pull a con like that?"
"Apparently she thought she was doing fine," said Craig. "It wasn't her who called for help. It was the Resistance who were concerned things were going to go south."
Actor sucked in one cheek. "All right. I may have overreacted," he conceded, but added before Garrison could respond, "You know Teresa could aggravate a saint to overreact."
Craig had to agree with that.
The Italian's eyes narrowed. "And how did you find out it was not Teresa who called for help?"
Garrison looked over the desk at his second. "I called Allied Command last night after she went to bed. Major Richards wasn't happy being awakened, but he is the one who told me. She's been in there a month, not with Lt. Johnson. They put her in deep cover."
"Who put her in deep cover?" questioned the con man. "Major Richards?"
"No," Craig shook his head. "Higher up Brass."
Actor shook his head. "Warden, she is a capable young woman, but to pull off something like this without bad consequences? She was nearly raped and was raped. That must give her some hesitation. I don't understand why she agreed to it. Is the Brass holding something over her?"
Garrison relaxed back in his chair, shaking his head. "I just don't know. What I do know is my sister." He looked up again at the con man. "Maybe she had to prove something to herself? That she could do it?"
Actor sucked in a cheek and scratched at a spot on his pant leg. "Is she going to keep 'proving to herself' until she gets herself killed? I understand she cannot just stay home and take care of us. She needs the excitement . . . the adrenalin boost, just as you and I do, and . . .," he nodded his head back toward the common room, "as they do."
"She's always been like that," said Craig, remembering some of his sister's escapades growing up and even in adulthood.
"Perhaps she will return soon," said Actor without much hope of that happening.
"We'll see," said Garrison with about as much hope as his second.
Actor returned to his chair in the common room, allowing the Lieutenant to write up another sanitized version of this mission.
Four hours later, Kit Gallagher strode into the mansion without knocking, and straight into Craig's office, slamming the door without even acknowledging the men in the common room. Craig looked up in surprise.
"What the hell happened on that last mission?" demanded the girl.
"Why," said Craig feigning ignorance.
"Don't give me that," said Kit with a grimace. "I've seen porcupines that were less prickly than Terry. And since when do you let those men get physical with her."
"What are you talking about?" asked Craig.
"I've seen the bruises on her. She said she got them from Actor."
"What!" roared Garrison. "He hit her?"
Kit shook her head. "Didn't hit her, but she's got a couple sets of all five fingers on both arms."
Craig swore. "Where is she?"
Kit turned and headed toward the front door, taking her into the common room where the other men looked up warily.
"I really don't know," said the redhead angrily. "Over on the Continent somewhere. She said she got more respect over there than she does here." Kit opened the door to leave and paused. "You know, you I expect it from. You two were always rough with each other. But I never expected you'd let one of them rough her up."
"Kit, just find her and bring her back here."
"Why should I?" asked the redhead in disgust. "She's been nothing but good to all of you and what does she get in return? I don't know what was said to her, but I haven't seen her self-confidence so shredded since you two beat the shit out of each other in New York over Jake."
Craig blanched. That information was never to have been let out to the cons. Kit turned and slammed out the front door. Craig turned accusing eyes to Actor.
"And just what am I supposed to have done to her now?" asked the con man.
"Kit said her arms are bruised up and Terry said it was you."
Actor frowned and thought about it. "She was fighting me on the way out of there. I was holding her tightly. If I did hurt her, believe me it was unintentional."
Craig nodded.
Goniff looked at Garrison in disbelieve. "You beat Terry up in New York?"
"That's why she don't wanna talk about New York," guessed Casino.
"That was a long time ago, and it's none of your business." Craig went back in his office, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Three pair of eyes turned toward Actor.
"Um, Actor," began Chief slowly. "Terry tell you anything about that?"
The con man shook his head. "She mentioned it once in the past, but without details."
"Know it had somethin' to do with Shiv," said Casino.
"I think most everything had something to do with Shiv," said Actor in disgust, going back to his book.
The rest of the day passed with no word from Terry. Garrison finished his report and left the Mansion, driving the Packard up to Allied Command. With no orders 'not to', the men wandered down to The Doves for the evening. The Packard was not there when they returned. Once inside the house, they went their separate ways, lighting fires in the fireplaces as they went to ward off the damp chill that had crept inside the house.
The Italian was the only one awake in his chair when the Lieutenant, looking worn out, finally returned.
"Rather long debrief, wasn't it?" asked Actor.
In response, Garrison lifted the briefcase in his left hand with the cuff attached to him and it.
Actor gave a resigned look. "Where to this time, Warden?"
"Belgium," replied the officer. He looked at his second in command. "Any word from Terry?"
The con man shook his head. "I assume you tried to ascertain her whereabouts."
Craig walked into his office, unlocked the cuffs, and put the papers in the safe, before returning to the common room. He turned one of the lower-backed chairs around and straddled it with arms crossed atop the back, facing Actor. Sitting like that in the main room was a sign the man was exhausted. "Whatever she's doing and whoever she's doing it for is not being discussed."
Actor frowned. "Major Richards?"
"No," said Craig. "He and I are on a 'do not need to know' for the last one and whatever she is doing now."
"But Major Richards is her handler."
"This is apparently a lot higher up," said Garrison, as unhappy as his second. "It appears when she left here this morning, she headed north and circled back to Brandonshire before going to London to debrief . . . and brief." He sat back and stood. "I'm going to bed. I think it's going to be another long day tomorrow."
Actor put aside his book, banked the fire, and followed the young officer upstairs to his own bed.
GGGGG
Early morning, four days later, the Army truck carrying five exhausted men rumbled down the country road. The metal seats along the sides were cold through their clothing. The flap was down, trying to keep some warmth in with the men.
"I don't know which is worse," griped Casino, "freezin' to death in the back of this thing or squashed in the Packard."
Actor, head back against the canvas side, did not bother to open his eyes. "I would hazard the Packard is better in winter, and this is better in summer with the flaps open."
"At least we didn't 'ave to drive ourselfs back," said Goniff.
Chief pulled the edge of the flap closest to him aside and peered around. "Almost there."
Garrison sat up and looked around at his men. It had been too much futile effort to try to shut the cracksman up for the two-hour drive from London. Especially since he had to agree with everything the man had complained about. Though, where Casino pulled the energy from to complain was unknown. Three days of rushing around Belgium, blowing up train tracks, trestles, and bridges had been mainly on their demolitions man's shoulders. Getting through roadblocks were Actor's and his agendas. Chief had hotwired cars when he and Goniff were not climbing telegraph poles to cut wires and damage telephone circuit boxes. The officer wanted to sleep for a week but knew that was impossible. The Brass always seemed to have another caper ready for them. He wondered if Actor could conjure up a massive snowstorm. Oh, did he need sleep.
The turn up the driveway was welcomed by all of them. Jumping out first, Chief looked around the back of the truck at the car park. The only vehicles present were the Packard and the jeep.
"She ain't here," he informed the others.
"She might have been if Beautiful hadn't roughed her up," grumbled Casino.
"Shut up," said Actor angrily. "I might have enough reserves left to rough you up."
Casino egged him on, happy to have struck a nerve, "I'd like to see you try."
"Knock it off!"
A call that afternoon, roused Garrison from the couch in his office where he was sleeping after writing up a quick report on their mission. Resigned, he got up and answered. It was General Abrams' Lieutenant calling to say Lt. Garrison's presence was required at Allied Command, with his report, and he was expected to be there for at least four days in meetings. Garrison thanked him and hung up. Well, three hours sleep might get him to London in one piece.
He folded up the blanket ha had been using and left it on the couch. Going upstairs, he let himself into Actor's room. A tap on the man's ankle had him flipping off his stomach and staring at Garrison alertly.
The resigned look on the officer's face told the con man what was up. "No, Warden," he objected. "We can't turn around and go back in tonight."
"You aren't," assured Craig. "I am going to London for meetings at Allied Command. I'll be there for four days at the least. I'll leave the Packard for you guys, but knowing what I am looking forward too, I would strongly suggest, make that an order, you don't come into London."
Actor frowned. "All right. Are they sending a car for you?"
"No, I'll take the jeep," said Garrison.
"You will freeze yourself to death," admonished the Italian. "Would you like me to drive you and come back?"
Garrison shook his head. "No. Then I would spend four days worrying that you didn't fall asleep at the wheel and kill yourself. Besides, the cold will keep me awake."
Actor sighed. "I suppose if you don't show up, someone will call us asking where you are. Then, we can go looking for your jeep in the ditch."
Craig gave a small, crooked grin. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to shower, get a cup of coffee, and head out."
"If you are able, call and let us know you arrived safely."
That brought a wider grin to the younger man's face. "I'd say something, Actor, but you're not old enough to be my father. Go back to sleep."
"I will remember that," promised the Italian, sliding back under the covers.
The jangling of the telephone downstairs awakened Actor. It felt like he had just gone back to sleep. Turning his head to look at the clock on the night table, he saw it had been three hours since Garrison had left. Tossing back the covers, the tall man arose and padded downstairs, barefoot and wearing pajama bottoms only. He reached over the banister and snagged the telephone.
"I wish to speak to Victor Borghese," said the male voice on the other end.
"Speaking," replied Actor.
"Ah, Mr. Borghese, Lt. Garrison asked me to call you and tell you "no bar ditch." There was a bit of confusion in the voice.
Actor grinned. "Thank you. Please inform him I am happy to hear that," he said formally, hiding the smile from his voice.
After hanging up, the con man looked at the watch on his wrist he had forgotten to remove before going to bed. Not enough sleep, but too late to go back to bed. He might as well put clothes on and see what there was in the refrigerator that was not spoiled. Obviously, it was his turn to cook. He trudged back upstairs.
Chief's head was poked out his bedroom door. The scout looked questioningly at Actor. "What was that? Not another mission?"
"No, not another mission," assured Actor. "It was someone from Allied Command informing me the Warden had arrived safely."
Chief stared at the older man. "Warden went to debrief? Now? Did somebody come get him?"
"No, he drove himself," replied Actor. "It seems they want him for four days of meetings."
'You up now?" asked Chief.
"Might as well," the con man replied. "I'll start coffee."
"I'll be down in a little bit," said the scout.
7