Part 14 Stories told. Questions answered
Dobb's regarded his partner with some slight amusement as he did an impersonation of Agent Harris.. The flick of the hair and confident stance perfectly reproducing her mannerisms. "Have another look round see if there's anything we've missed," Steele repeated the last instruction she had give them in full falsetto, then added sarcastically, "Whilst I stand here and flirt with this nice young detective from the LAPD." He turned the impression off abruptly as he let his genuine anger show. "Just who the Hell does she think she is ordering us around? This is meant to be our case and she just waltzes in and thinks that she can take over."
They had left Agent Harris and Detective Turner upstairs and had moved back down to Steve's apartment, waiting until they were out of sight and earshot before venturing to voice their opinions.
Dobbs nodded, his anger matched his partners. "Tell me about it. I've got twenty years field experience and they promote Miss congeniality there over me and then give her authority over my case load." His tone indicated that his anger and bitterness were building. "I was defending the laws of this country when she was still in diapers and she thinks that she can do this job better than me, with her enhanced training and fast tracking. What does she know?" The rhetorical question was asked with venom. "Sitting around in classrooms is no substitute for experience." He was pacing now making no attempt to hide his hostility. His face was becoming redder as the anger made his blood pressure rise. "Experience helps you solve crimes. Experience teaches you what to say. Experience allows you to pick up the clues. It's all experience and I got plenty of that, but does that count any more?" The pause for the answer was barely perceptible as he wheeled round and headed for Steele forcing him to take an involuntary step backwards, as he answered his own question. "No, and I'll tell you why, because this young fast tracked generation is fast tracking the lot of us on to the scrapheap." Dobbs finally ended his soapbox monologue breathing heavily from the effort of venting his anger. Feeling awkward he stepped back slightly clenching his fists in an attempt to bring himself back under control
Steele regarded his partner, slightly taken aback by the show of emotion. It had been three months since Dobbs had lost out in his bid for promotion and Agent Harris had moved in to take over. In that time Steele had seen his partner becoming increasingly bitter at having to work as her subordinate but he had not realised until now just how deeply his partner had been affected. This was the first time that she had interfered so directly in one of their cases. That coupled with the fact that just about everything about this case had gone wrong was clearly getting to him
Steele watched as his partner paced some more trying to calm himself down. He had worked with Dobbs for nearly two years now and knew that the main reason he had failed in his promotion attempt was his cynical and often bitter attitude. It was as if after twenty years he felt that the agency owed him something. He had put in his time and he deserved a more comfortable job. Trouble was he could not see that it was that very attitude that was preventing him from getting that promotion. Steele vowed, not for the first time, to make sure that he got out of the business by any means necessary long before he became so old and bitter.
Dobbs finally had his breathing under control. "Come on let's get out of here," he said heading for the door.
The sudden change of tack took Steele by surprise "Where to? Agent Harris told us to keep checking around."
"And you suddenly care what she tells us?" Dobbs returned bitterly.
Steele shook his head
"Come on then ," Dobbs said holding open the door. Steele stepped over the scattered books and pottery shards to make his way to the door of Steve's apartment.
"I did a little checking," Dobbs continued, "hit redial on the phone. It seems our Lieutenant Sloan left here by cab. I thought we'd go check out where they took him."
"But that guy from LAPD will have someone over there long before we get there." Steele protested.
"No he won't," Dobbs grinned "I erased the number. They'll have to check for numbers dialed with the phone company and by that time we'll have a head start." They had reached their car and Steele began to climb in. Dobbs took one last bitter glance at the beach house. "Don't worry, we'll find Lieutenant Sloan, Mrs. Fielding and the disc first."
Steele wasn't sure if the last comment was addressed to him or was a promise Dobbs was making to himself. He only knew that it was said with a coldness that sent a shiver down his spine.
Steve awoke in a sea of pain and confusion. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings but everything was a blur, the effort of keeping them open seemed too much so he allowed them to close again. His head was throbbing and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. The only respite was a sudden coolness on his forehead. It felt so good that he focused his attention on that as he waited for his other senses to return.
He was aware of someone calling his name, speaking to him in soft but urgent tones, asking him to open his eyes, to wake up. He did his best to comply. This time he managed to keep his eyes open and slowly they focused on the face of a beautiful woman looking down at him.
Emma smiled with a mixture or relief and affection.
Steve recognised her. "Emma?" He said questioningly, the disorientation still claiming much of his memory.
"Yes Steve its me." She said soothingly. "Just try to relax." She took the cloth and wet it once more before placing it on his forehead again.
Once again Steve focused on the coolness allowing time for his memory to return. He was still and silent for so long that Emma was afraid that she was losing him again.
Eventually he spoke "How long?" He asked quietly, turning his head slightly so he could get a better view of her. The events of the last twenty four hours had slid into place. He knew everything that had happened except for how long he had been unconscious on the floor.
"How long since you passed out?" Emma asked, trying to clarify the question.
Steve nodded slightly.
She looked at her watch. "Almost two hours." She said earnestly. "You had me really worried."
Steve moved his head as much as he could to try to orient himself. He was lying on the floor at the edge of the hallway where it opened out into the much larger sitting room. "Guess I didn't make it to the couch huh?" He asked making an attempt to lighten the mood.
"No I guess not," Emma smiled at him again.
"Typical," Steve said
Emma looked confused, "Typical?" she asked
"Yeah," Steve replied. "I make it across thirty kilometers of LA in and out of half a dozen places and then fall fifteen feet from the finish line. It's like being one of those Olympic marathon runners who can't quite make it round the last lap in the stadium"
Emma tried to match his light tone "Yeah but they have usually run the preceding 26 miles. You covered most of it by car."
"True, but they didn't have a bullet in them," Steve replied still in the same light spirit.
The comment, however ended the light banter. Emma became serious once more. Steve may have been able to make light of his injury but she couldn't. Her tone became more serious as she asked. "Do you think you can make it over there now?"
Steve considered it, from the way his shoulder was aching without disturbing it, he wasn't sure that he wanted to risk aggravating the injury. On the other hand even with the cushions and blankets that Emma had placed around him, spending a prolonged time on the cold hard floor was not really an option that he wanted to consider. The couch would be much more comfortable not to mention warmer. "If you help me I'll give it a go," he said eventually.
Emma nodded. She carefully moved everything that might get in the way of a direct route to the couch and removed the blankets from Steve. She positioned herself on his good side and helped him to a sitting position. Steve drew in a sharp breath as the waves of pain washed over him once more. The ache from his stiff and sore muscles fighting for attention with the continuing blades of fire from his shoulder. Once in a sitting position he indicated that he needed to pause before going any further. He concentrated on taking long deep breaths.
Eventually he felt settled enough to take the next and he knew probably the most painful step. He needed to make it to his feet. He also knew that he would need to do this in one attempt to have any chance of success. Leaning as much of his weight as he dared on Emma he first pushed himself to a kneeling position and then unsteadily to his feet. He stood for a moment waiting for the shaking in his legs to subside before taking a tentative step forward.
He was slightly shocked by how weak he felt, the trip to the couch seemed to take forever and he was sweating and breathing heavily by the time he made it there. He resisted the temptation to drop onto it, knowing that his shoulder could not take the jarring that that would entail. Instead he allowed Emma to lower him gently down.
As he struggled to regain his breath he couldn't help passing comment. "See," he said panting between words. "I told....you it was....like... the end of ... a marathon."
"Yes, well let's get you comfortable whilst you recover then." Emma replied helping to prop him in a sitting position. She then went to retrieve the blankets and once she had covered him she placed the cool cloth on his forehead.
"I see you haven't lost your touch nurse Johnson" Steve said as he lay back against the pillows.
Emma stared at the floor without seeing it, momentarily lost in thought, then she turned back to look at Steve. "It's a long time since I've been called by that name." She said smiling wistfully "I was much younger and much wiser then."
Steve noticed the strange use of the phrase but let it pass.
"Since I'm back in nursing mode, you need to drink this but only in sips, that's it." She offered him some water which he drank gratefully.
"So," he said in between sips. "I believe you were in the middle of telling me how we ended up here."
"Yes it all began about five weeks ago...."
Stephanie sat down on the arm of the damaged couch and indicated that Nathan should also sit. He picked up an overturned chair and sat facing her. She sighed before speaking. "What I am about to tell you must not end up in any LAPD reports. It could be quite embarrassing for my department. Do I have your word on that?"
"I'll do my best," Nathan answered honestly "but since I don't know what you're going to tell me I can't make any promises."
She looked at him skeptically and he knew she was trying to decide whether to continue or not
"Look, unless I have to I won't reveal anything you tell me here. OK?" He added not wanting her to change her mind.
She considered a moment longer. "Good enough," she finally said, her mind made up and she began her explanation. "For almost a year we had been getting some fairly strong evidence that someone on the inside at the NSA was stealing information and selling it to the highest bidder. The trouble was we had no real leads as to who it was within the organisation, so we needed to set up a sting, but we knew that wouldn't be easy, whoever was doing this had fairly high clearance and was stealing computer records and encryption programs which meant that whoever we used had to be genuine. Someone as good as the person we were looking for would not be fooled by planted records so....."
"....Two NSA agents, the very pleasant Mr. Dobbs and Mr. Steele approached my husband. They said they needed his help to trap a traitor and knew that even though he was not an American citizen, he would want to do his civic duty to help them," Emma smiled bitterly, "They of course pointed out certain business dealings of his that would have to be investigated more deeply if he did not feel that he could help."
"So they basically blackmailed him into being their contact?" Steve asked
"Yes," Emma replied quietly. "They had already located buyers for some computer encryption files. They wanted Richard to contact them and then try to get the traitor to agree to sell the files through him, after all that was what he was good at brokering deals....."
".....Mr. Fielding made contact first with the Chinese buyers so that if our rogue agent checked everything looked genuine," Stephanie continued
"Wasn't it dangerous getting a civilian involved?" Nathan asked.
"Mr. Fielding was well aware of the risks when he agreed to help us. You don't spend your life brokering weapons deals without being aware of what could go wrong."
"Try telling him that now," Nathan muttered under his breath
"Pardon?"
"Oh nothing. So what happened next."
"Well very little for about four weeks, we thought that we had blown it, the buyers were getting impatient and Mr. Fielding was becoming very nervous and then about a week ago..."
"....Richard started behaving strangely not coming home or disappearing out without explanation. He claimed that he had finally made contact with the person selling the information." Emma hesitated before continuing "at the time I believed him I had no reason not to."
"And now?" Steve asked sensing that there was more to this part of the story.
"Now I know that.." She paused again not wanting to complete that particular sentence. She resumed the story. "At least part of what he said was true, he had made contact with the NSA agent. He set up the deal to buy the encrypted files....."
".....The deal was arranged for yesterday morning. Everything was supposed to be in place for Fielding to meet with the Chinese and the rogue agent although we still didn't have an ID on the guy. We would swoop and take down both him and the buyers." Stephanie was looking increasingly unhappy as she recounted the tail.
"So what went wrong?"
"That's just it we don't know. The Agent who we now know was called Carlson must have got wind of the operation because the venue was changed at the last minute. So many false trails were planted that we were chasing our tails across the city for most of the afternoon. We're still not sure who double crossed whom. We just know that when the smoke cleared Fielding and the disc were missing, Carlson was dead and the Chinese contacts were nowhere to be found..."
Steve sensed that Emma was finding the story more and more difficult to relate. "Go on," he urged gently at her latest pause.
"Richard came home from the meeting. I could tell things had gone badly wrong but I just didn't care." Tears were beginning to form in Emma's eyes. "I wasn't really listening to him. I was so angry that I didn't care what he had to say."
Steve was puzzled. "Why were you angry with him?"
"Because of the photographs" Emma replied the tears were now running down her cheeks.
Emma's answer did little to help Steve understand. "Photographs?" He asked.
"Someone sent me a set of photographs of..." She paused and took a deep breath. "Of Richard with another woman." She was subconsciously wringing the cloth that she had been using on Steve's face between her hands. "He promised me that it would never happen again." She turned and looked Steve directly in the eye, tears still falling from her own. "He promised me... he swore to me..." She looked down and began to sob. "I was so angry with him I didn't even listen to him."
Steve waited for the sobs to subside. There was little he could do to comfort her except place a reassuring hand on her arm and wait. He knew that she must be getting close to the point where Richard was killed and knew that was going to be a traumatic memory. Eventually he decided that she was calm enough. "So what happened next?"
Emma blinked back the tears and turned to look at him. She looked at him for a full minute before she spoke again when she did her voice was quiet and deliberate "I don't know. I can't remember."
Steve used his good hand to take hold of Emma's and gripped it gently. He spoke softly. "Then why don't you tell me what you do remember."
Emma looked across at him. Despite the pain he must be in, his expression was full of concern for her. She squeezed back on his hand forcing herself to try to detach her emotions from what she had to say. It was the only way she would be able to get it out. When she managed to speak it was slow and hesitant. "I remember yelling at him. Screaming, I remember hitting him and then walking away and then..." She paused taking a deep breath to steel herself against the image. "He was lying there on the floor in front of me. He wasn't moving, he was covered in blood. I knelt down to feel his pulse but there wasn't one."
Emma was staring now across at the far wall behind Steve but he knew that she couldn't see it, her eyes were defocused as she concentrated on the images of the previous day. She had stopped speaking and Steve wondered whether he should say something but he realised he did not know what to say. She was telling him that her husband had been killed and it was so traumatic that she could not recall the details. If he was understanding her correctly, she could not even tell whether she had killed him herself. What could you say to that?
Finally she spoke again. "Some time must have passed because it was dark outside. I... I looked down at my dress and it was covered in blood." Her tone had changed. It was as though she were recounting a shopping trip or a day in the park. Steve realised that her actions had been driven by shock. Her brain trying to make an abnormal situation normal. "I went and changed it, my dress." She continued. "It was covered in blood. I never wear anything with even a small stain on it. It couldn't be cleaned so I threw it in the trash. Then I left the house. I just had to get away from there...."
"....We finally got an anonymous tip that Mrs. Fielding had somehow got the disc and was at the house." Stephanie was clearly uncomfortable at recounting yet another failure. "So Agents Dobbs and Steele went over to the house to pick her up. They arrived just in time to see her running away across the beach and they gave chase. Not realising of course that Richard Fielding was already dead inside."
"How much is the disc worth?" Nathan asked as he pieced together this tail with what he already knew.
"At least 5 million dollars on the open market."
Nathan blew out a whistle. "So that gives our Mrs. Fielding another motive for murder."
"And," Stephanie added. "A motive for our Lieutenant Sloan to help her."
"No," Nathan shook his head firmly. The idea that Steve would help someone do something illegal for money was as unthinkable as if someone had suggested he himself would do it. "Not Steve Sloan, He's incorruptible."
"Oh come on detective we all have our price. 5 million dollars is a lot of money."
"No," Nathan repeated. "I know Steve and his family. He just wouldn't do it. If he's involved in this then it's for some reason other than money."
Stephanie watched Nathan's resolute expression. "Fair enough, have it your way until we can prove otherwise."
"You still haven't told me how Steve is involved." Nathan said returning her gaze. He was trying hard to read her expression but she kept it neutral.
"He met with Mrs. Fielding at about two thirty a.m. by a phone box out of town. Dobbs and Steele intercepted them but they escaped. So both agents went to the station to see Sloan the following morning. He denied knowing where she was. The rest you know."
That tied in with what Nathan had been told but he still had a lot of unanswered questions. Why was Steve helping this woman? If he had helped her resist arrest then why did the NSA agents not just haul him into custody when they met him the next morning? Too much of this still did not make sense.
At that moment Stephanie's cell phone rang. When she had finished the conversation she stood up. "I'm going to the hospital. Dr. Travis is awake and I've just received some information that I'd like to ask Dr. Sloan about."
Nathan stood too. "Well I suppose in our new spirit of cooperation. I'd better come with you." The truth was that despite the fact that Stephanie had entrusted him with information about the case, he had forced her into it. He still did not trust her to share any new leads with him. So whilst he could, he was going to shadow his new 'partner.'
"....I ran for as long as I could and then I couldn't think of what to do." She turned to look at Steve for the first time in several minutes focusing again on the real world. "So I called you." She smiled at him but this time it held no warmth, only pathos.
"I still don't understand how you had my number." Steve said relieved that Emma had broken the trance like state of the last few minutes. She had raised issues that would have to be addressed but at the moment it was too raw, too painful to hope to get her to remember properly what had happened. So he concentrated on the more trivial matters.
She thought about his question. "I've kept track of you since that day I left." She said pausing slightly before continuing "I couldn't believe it when you volunteered for a second tour."
Steve sighed it was his turn to become wistful. "I volunteered because at the time there were things I wanted to forget." He looked across at her, "And things I wanted to remember."
She could not hold his gaze, she looked down at her hands. "When you got back to the states you were fairly easy to keep track of and I was married to a member of the diplomatic core remember." She finally looked back at him a smile on her face as the memories became less painful. "You don't exactly move around a lot."
"So why did you do it?" He asked his curiosity peaked. "Why keep track of me?"
"Oh I don't know. I guess I just wanted to know that you were all right." She took the thoroughly wrung out cloth and dipped it in the ice water once more. Now that the subject matter was back on safer emotional ground she did not feel the need to hold on to him. She placed the cloth gently on his forehead. "Over the years it became kind of a hobby and then when we moved here I toyed with the idea of getting in touch. Catching up on old times."
"But you didn't," Steve paused. "Until last night."
"Until last night," she agreed.
Steve knew that his next question was stepping on dangerous ground but he asked anyway. "Why not?" She looked at him pretending not to understand the question. He asked it again. "Why didn't you contact me when you moved here?"
"I didn't need you until last night."
"That's not exactly what I asked."
"I was afraid," she admitted. "Afraid that my feelings for you hadn't changed even after all this time." She paused again. "Afraid of betraying my husband when all the time he was..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She bit her lip to avoid returning to the emotional turmoil. She needed to remain focused.
Steve gently touched her face. "And had they? Would your feelings have betrayed you." He asked in a voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. He held his breath as he waited for her to answer.
She stared into his eyes. "Yes," she answered equally softly. "I believe they would have." And she leaned forward and brushed her lips tenderly against his before sitting up again.
Steve released the breath he had been holding slowly. How could their feelings for each other still be so strong? He decided not to analyse it. He realised that Emma was staring at him. There was an awkward silence neither of them knowing what to say or do next.
It was finally broken by Steve coughing. The action caused him to wince involuntarily as it jarred both his damaged ribs and his shoulder. Emma's show of concern was instantaneous as she was reminded of just how serious Steve's condition was becoming. She allowed him to grip her hand again as she waited for the spasm to pass.
Steve was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the pain. He had managed whilst he was listening to Emma's account of events but if he shifted position or worse coughed as he just had done the pain became almost unbearable. He realised that if he coughed again he probably would not be able to remain conscious. He also realised that without treatment the prognosis was not good.
"Emma," he said when he finally trusted himself to speak. "The bullet in my shoulder. It needs to come out."
Emma knew the truth in what he was saying, could hear the pain in his voice, could see it in his eyes. "I know." she said then added almost pleadingly. "Let me take you back to the hospital."
"No," Steve replied, having heard what was at stake he was even more sure that if either of them were seen at a hospital it would not be safe. Everyone concerned would now assume that since he was helping her he would be as likely to know the location of the disc as she would and as such, he was now just as much of a target. He gripped her arm and waited until she was looking directly at him. "You'll have to do it."
Emma looked horrified at the suggestion. "I... I.... I can't"
"Emma," he said firmly trying to convince her. "You trained as a nurse. You worked in a military hospital. You've seen this done hundreds of times. You can do it."
"That was more than thirty years ago," she protested. "In case you haven't been listening. I've been nothing but a professional hostess and party goer since then. The nearest I've got to an operation is carving meat off the bone. I just can't...."
"Emma," Steve interrupted her. "There's no one else." He stated simply.
She looked at him realising that it was true. She was his only chance. If she couldn't do it... the consequences didn't bear thinking about. "OK," she said quietly. "I'll try." She stood up. "I'll get together the things that I need."
As she stood, Steve slightly released his grip so that her arm slid through his hand keeping contact for as long as possible, until finally her hand slid through his fingers. "Thank you," he said.
In the kitchen Emma assembled clean cloths and hot water before looking for the essential item that she would need, a sharp knife. Her eyes scanned the kitchen until she found what she was looking for. The knife block stood on the counter over the far side of the kitchen. She walked over to it her hand shaking as she reached out to pull out one of the knives.
She pulled the blade clear but as soon as she caught sight of it she dropped it as though she had been burned. The knife fell and embedded itself in the floor swaying backwards and forwards in a macabre repeat of the memory that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. She backed away from it. Unable to take her eyes from it as it moved backwards and forwards, the vibrations dying, until it was still.
She leaned heavily against the wall knowing that she would not be able to touch the knife again. It was too close, too near to what she remembered from her home the night before. A detail she hadn't been able to tell Steve about. Her memory of the bloody knife in the table.
She closed her eyes tightly as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry Steve," she whispered. She knew that if she couldn't pick up the knife that she would not be able to help him and that without help he probably would not survive. "I'm so, so sorry," she repeated and the tears fell.
Dobb's regarded his partner with some slight amusement as he did an impersonation of Agent Harris.. The flick of the hair and confident stance perfectly reproducing her mannerisms. "Have another look round see if there's anything we've missed," Steele repeated the last instruction she had give them in full falsetto, then added sarcastically, "Whilst I stand here and flirt with this nice young detective from the LAPD." He turned the impression off abruptly as he let his genuine anger show. "Just who the Hell does she think she is ordering us around? This is meant to be our case and she just waltzes in and thinks that she can take over."
They had left Agent Harris and Detective Turner upstairs and had moved back down to Steve's apartment, waiting until they were out of sight and earshot before venturing to voice their opinions.
Dobbs nodded, his anger matched his partners. "Tell me about it. I've got twenty years field experience and they promote Miss congeniality there over me and then give her authority over my case load." His tone indicated that his anger and bitterness were building. "I was defending the laws of this country when she was still in diapers and she thinks that she can do this job better than me, with her enhanced training and fast tracking. What does she know?" The rhetorical question was asked with venom. "Sitting around in classrooms is no substitute for experience." He was pacing now making no attempt to hide his hostility. His face was becoming redder as the anger made his blood pressure rise. "Experience helps you solve crimes. Experience teaches you what to say. Experience allows you to pick up the clues. It's all experience and I got plenty of that, but does that count any more?" The pause for the answer was barely perceptible as he wheeled round and headed for Steele forcing him to take an involuntary step backwards, as he answered his own question. "No, and I'll tell you why, because this young fast tracked generation is fast tracking the lot of us on to the scrapheap." Dobbs finally ended his soapbox monologue breathing heavily from the effort of venting his anger. Feeling awkward he stepped back slightly clenching his fists in an attempt to bring himself back under control
Steele regarded his partner, slightly taken aback by the show of emotion. It had been three months since Dobbs had lost out in his bid for promotion and Agent Harris had moved in to take over. In that time Steele had seen his partner becoming increasingly bitter at having to work as her subordinate but he had not realised until now just how deeply his partner had been affected. This was the first time that she had interfered so directly in one of their cases. That coupled with the fact that just about everything about this case had gone wrong was clearly getting to him
Steele watched as his partner paced some more trying to calm himself down. He had worked with Dobbs for nearly two years now and knew that the main reason he had failed in his promotion attempt was his cynical and often bitter attitude. It was as if after twenty years he felt that the agency owed him something. He had put in his time and he deserved a more comfortable job. Trouble was he could not see that it was that very attitude that was preventing him from getting that promotion. Steele vowed, not for the first time, to make sure that he got out of the business by any means necessary long before he became so old and bitter.
Dobbs finally had his breathing under control. "Come on let's get out of here," he said heading for the door.
The sudden change of tack took Steele by surprise "Where to? Agent Harris told us to keep checking around."
"And you suddenly care what she tells us?" Dobbs returned bitterly.
Steele shook his head
"Come on then ," Dobbs said holding open the door. Steele stepped over the scattered books and pottery shards to make his way to the door of Steve's apartment.
"I did a little checking," Dobbs continued, "hit redial on the phone. It seems our Lieutenant Sloan left here by cab. I thought we'd go check out where they took him."
"But that guy from LAPD will have someone over there long before we get there." Steele protested.
"No he won't," Dobbs grinned "I erased the number. They'll have to check for numbers dialed with the phone company and by that time we'll have a head start." They had reached their car and Steele began to climb in. Dobbs took one last bitter glance at the beach house. "Don't worry, we'll find Lieutenant Sloan, Mrs. Fielding and the disc first."
Steele wasn't sure if the last comment was addressed to him or was a promise Dobbs was making to himself. He only knew that it was said with a coldness that sent a shiver down his spine.
Steve awoke in a sea of pain and confusion. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings but everything was a blur, the effort of keeping them open seemed too much so he allowed them to close again. His head was throbbing and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. The only respite was a sudden coolness on his forehead. It felt so good that he focused his attention on that as he waited for his other senses to return.
He was aware of someone calling his name, speaking to him in soft but urgent tones, asking him to open his eyes, to wake up. He did his best to comply. This time he managed to keep his eyes open and slowly they focused on the face of a beautiful woman looking down at him.
Emma smiled with a mixture or relief and affection.
Steve recognised her. "Emma?" He said questioningly, the disorientation still claiming much of his memory.
"Yes Steve its me." She said soothingly. "Just try to relax." She took the cloth and wet it once more before placing it on his forehead again.
Once again Steve focused on the coolness allowing time for his memory to return. He was still and silent for so long that Emma was afraid that she was losing him again.
Eventually he spoke "How long?" He asked quietly, turning his head slightly so he could get a better view of her. The events of the last twenty four hours had slid into place. He knew everything that had happened except for how long he had been unconscious on the floor.
"How long since you passed out?" Emma asked, trying to clarify the question.
Steve nodded slightly.
She looked at her watch. "Almost two hours." She said earnestly. "You had me really worried."
Steve moved his head as much as he could to try to orient himself. He was lying on the floor at the edge of the hallway where it opened out into the much larger sitting room. "Guess I didn't make it to the couch huh?" He asked making an attempt to lighten the mood.
"No I guess not," Emma smiled at him again.
"Typical," Steve said
Emma looked confused, "Typical?" she asked
"Yeah," Steve replied. "I make it across thirty kilometers of LA in and out of half a dozen places and then fall fifteen feet from the finish line. It's like being one of those Olympic marathon runners who can't quite make it round the last lap in the stadium"
Emma tried to match his light tone "Yeah but they have usually run the preceding 26 miles. You covered most of it by car."
"True, but they didn't have a bullet in them," Steve replied still in the same light spirit.
The comment, however ended the light banter. Emma became serious once more. Steve may have been able to make light of his injury but she couldn't. Her tone became more serious as she asked. "Do you think you can make it over there now?"
Steve considered it, from the way his shoulder was aching without disturbing it, he wasn't sure that he wanted to risk aggravating the injury. On the other hand even with the cushions and blankets that Emma had placed around him, spending a prolonged time on the cold hard floor was not really an option that he wanted to consider. The couch would be much more comfortable not to mention warmer. "If you help me I'll give it a go," he said eventually.
Emma nodded. She carefully moved everything that might get in the way of a direct route to the couch and removed the blankets from Steve. She positioned herself on his good side and helped him to a sitting position. Steve drew in a sharp breath as the waves of pain washed over him once more. The ache from his stiff and sore muscles fighting for attention with the continuing blades of fire from his shoulder. Once in a sitting position he indicated that he needed to pause before going any further. He concentrated on taking long deep breaths.
Eventually he felt settled enough to take the next and he knew probably the most painful step. He needed to make it to his feet. He also knew that he would need to do this in one attempt to have any chance of success. Leaning as much of his weight as he dared on Emma he first pushed himself to a kneeling position and then unsteadily to his feet. He stood for a moment waiting for the shaking in his legs to subside before taking a tentative step forward.
He was slightly shocked by how weak he felt, the trip to the couch seemed to take forever and he was sweating and breathing heavily by the time he made it there. He resisted the temptation to drop onto it, knowing that his shoulder could not take the jarring that that would entail. Instead he allowed Emma to lower him gently down.
As he struggled to regain his breath he couldn't help passing comment. "See," he said panting between words. "I told....you it was....like... the end of ... a marathon."
"Yes, well let's get you comfortable whilst you recover then." Emma replied helping to prop him in a sitting position. She then went to retrieve the blankets and once she had covered him she placed the cool cloth on his forehead.
"I see you haven't lost your touch nurse Johnson" Steve said as he lay back against the pillows.
Emma stared at the floor without seeing it, momentarily lost in thought, then she turned back to look at Steve. "It's a long time since I've been called by that name." She said smiling wistfully "I was much younger and much wiser then."
Steve noticed the strange use of the phrase but let it pass.
"Since I'm back in nursing mode, you need to drink this but only in sips, that's it." She offered him some water which he drank gratefully.
"So," he said in between sips. "I believe you were in the middle of telling me how we ended up here."
"Yes it all began about five weeks ago...."
Stephanie sat down on the arm of the damaged couch and indicated that Nathan should also sit. He picked up an overturned chair and sat facing her. She sighed before speaking. "What I am about to tell you must not end up in any LAPD reports. It could be quite embarrassing for my department. Do I have your word on that?"
"I'll do my best," Nathan answered honestly "but since I don't know what you're going to tell me I can't make any promises."
She looked at him skeptically and he knew she was trying to decide whether to continue or not
"Look, unless I have to I won't reveal anything you tell me here. OK?" He added not wanting her to change her mind.
She considered a moment longer. "Good enough," she finally said, her mind made up and she began her explanation. "For almost a year we had been getting some fairly strong evidence that someone on the inside at the NSA was stealing information and selling it to the highest bidder. The trouble was we had no real leads as to who it was within the organisation, so we needed to set up a sting, but we knew that wouldn't be easy, whoever was doing this had fairly high clearance and was stealing computer records and encryption programs which meant that whoever we used had to be genuine. Someone as good as the person we were looking for would not be fooled by planted records so....."
"....Two NSA agents, the very pleasant Mr. Dobbs and Mr. Steele approached my husband. They said they needed his help to trap a traitor and knew that even though he was not an American citizen, he would want to do his civic duty to help them," Emma smiled bitterly, "They of course pointed out certain business dealings of his that would have to be investigated more deeply if he did not feel that he could help."
"So they basically blackmailed him into being their contact?" Steve asked
"Yes," Emma replied quietly. "They had already located buyers for some computer encryption files. They wanted Richard to contact them and then try to get the traitor to agree to sell the files through him, after all that was what he was good at brokering deals....."
".....Mr. Fielding made contact first with the Chinese buyers so that if our rogue agent checked everything looked genuine," Stephanie continued
"Wasn't it dangerous getting a civilian involved?" Nathan asked.
"Mr. Fielding was well aware of the risks when he agreed to help us. You don't spend your life brokering weapons deals without being aware of what could go wrong."
"Try telling him that now," Nathan muttered under his breath
"Pardon?"
"Oh nothing. So what happened next."
"Well very little for about four weeks, we thought that we had blown it, the buyers were getting impatient and Mr. Fielding was becoming very nervous and then about a week ago..."
"....Richard started behaving strangely not coming home or disappearing out without explanation. He claimed that he had finally made contact with the person selling the information." Emma hesitated before continuing "at the time I believed him I had no reason not to."
"And now?" Steve asked sensing that there was more to this part of the story.
"Now I know that.." She paused again not wanting to complete that particular sentence. She resumed the story. "At least part of what he said was true, he had made contact with the NSA agent. He set up the deal to buy the encrypted files....."
".....The deal was arranged for yesterday morning. Everything was supposed to be in place for Fielding to meet with the Chinese and the rogue agent although we still didn't have an ID on the guy. We would swoop and take down both him and the buyers." Stephanie was looking increasingly unhappy as she recounted the tail.
"So what went wrong?"
"That's just it we don't know. The Agent who we now know was called Carlson must have got wind of the operation because the venue was changed at the last minute. So many false trails were planted that we were chasing our tails across the city for most of the afternoon. We're still not sure who double crossed whom. We just know that when the smoke cleared Fielding and the disc were missing, Carlson was dead and the Chinese contacts were nowhere to be found..."
Steve sensed that Emma was finding the story more and more difficult to relate. "Go on," he urged gently at her latest pause.
"Richard came home from the meeting. I could tell things had gone badly wrong but I just didn't care." Tears were beginning to form in Emma's eyes. "I wasn't really listening to him. I was so angry that I didn't care what he had to say."
Steve was puzzled. "Why were you angry with him?"
"Because of the photographs" Emma replied the tears were now running down her cheeks.
Emma's answer did little to help Steve understand. "Photographs?" He asked.
"Someone sent me a set of photographs of..." She paused and took a deep breath. "Of Richard with another woman." She was subconsciously wringing the cloth that she had been using on Steve's face between her hands. "He promised me that it would never happen again." She turned and looked Steve directly in the eye, tears still falling from her own. "He promised me... he swore to me..." She looked down and began to sob. "I was so angry with him I didn't even listen to him."
Steve waited for the sobs to subside. There was little he could do to comfort her except place a reassuring hand on her arm and wait. He knew that she must be getting close to the point where Richard was killed and knew that was going to be a traumatic memory. Eventually he decided that she was calm enough. "So what happened next?"
Emma blinked back the tears and turned to look at him. She looked at him for a full minute before she spoke again when she did her voice was quiet and deliberate "I don't know. I can't remember."
Steve used his good hand to take hold of Emma's and gripped it gently. He spoke softly. "Then why don't you tell me what you do remember."
Emma looked across at him. Despite the pain he must be in, his expression was full of concern for her. She squeezed back on his hand forcing herself to try to detach her emotions from what she had to say. It was the only way she would be able to get it out. When she managed to speak it was slow and hesitant. "I remember yelling at him. Screaming, I remember hitting him and then walking away and then..." She paused taking a deep breath to steel herself against the image. "He was lying there on the floor in front of me. He wasn't moving, he was covered in blood. I knelt down to feel his pulse but there wasn't one."
Emma was staring now across at the far wall behind Steve but he knew that she couldn't see it, her eyes were defocused as she concentrated on the images of the previous day. She had stopped speaking and Steve wondered whether he should say something but he realised he did not know what to say. She was telling him that her husband had been killed and it was so traumatic that she could not recall the details. If he was understanding her correctly, she could not even tell whether she had killed him herself. What could you say to that?
Finally she spoke again. "Some time must have passed because it was dark outside. I... I looked down at my dress and it was covered in blood." Her tone had changed. It was as though she were recounting a shopping trip or a day in the park. Steve realised that her actions had been driven by shock. Her brain trying to make an abnormal situation normal. "I went and changed it, my dress." She continued. "It was covered in blood. I never wear anything with even a small stain on it. It couldn't be cleaned so I threw it in the trash. Then I left the house. I just had to get away from there...."
"....We finally got an anonymous tip that Mrs. Fielding had somehow got the disc and was at the house." Stephanie was clearly uncomfortable at recounting yet another failure. "So Agents Dobbs and Steele went over to the house to pick her up. They arrived just in time to see her running away across the beach and they gave chase. Not realising of course that Richard Fielding was already dead inside."
"How much is the disc worth?" Nathan asked as he pieced together this tail with what he already knew.
"At least 5 million dollars on the open market."
Nathan blew out a whistle. "So that gives our Mrs. Fielding another motive for murder."
"And," Stephanie added. "A motive for our Lieutenant Sloan to help her."
"No," Nathan shook his head firmly. The idea that Steve would help someone do something illegal for money was as unthinkable as if someone had suggested he himself would do it. "Not Steve Sloan, He's incorruptible."
"Oh come on detective we all have our price. 5 million dollars is a lot of money."
"No," Nathan repeated. "I know Steve and his family. He just wouldn't do it. If he's involved in this then it's for some reason other than money."
Stephanie watched Nathan's resolute expression. "Fair enough, have it your way until we can prove otherwise."
"You still haven't told me how Steve is involved." Nathan said returning her gaze. He was trying hard to read her expression but she kept it neutral.
"He met with Mrs. Fielding at about two thirty a.m. by a phone box out of town. Dobbs and Steele intercepted them but they escaped. So both agents went to the station to see Sloan the following morning. He denied knowing where she was. The rest you know."
That tied in with what Nathan had been told but he still had a lot of unanswered questions. Why was Steve helping this woman? If he had helped her resist arrest then why did the NSA agents not just haul him into custody when they met him the next morning? Too much of this still did not make sense.
At that moment Stephanie's cell phone rang. When she had finished the conversation she stood up. "I'm going to the hospital. Dr. Travis is awake and I've just received some information that I'd like to ask Dr. Sloan about."
Nathan stood too. "Well I suppose in our new spirit of cooperation. I'd better come with you." The truth was that despite the fact that Stephanie had entrusted him with information about the case, he had forced her into it. He still did not trust her to share any new leads with him. So whilst he could, he was going to shadow his new 'partner.'
"....I ran for as long as I could and then I couldn't think of what to do." She turned to look at Steve for the first time in several minutes focusing again on the real world. "So I called you." She smiled at him but this time it held no warmth, only pathos.
"I still don't understand how you had my number." Steve said relieved that Emma had broken the trance like state of the last few minutes. She had raised issues that would have to be addressed but at the moment it was too raw, too painful to hope to get her to remember properly what had happened. So he concentrated on the more trivial matters.
She thought about his question. "I've kept track of you since that day I left." She said pausing slightly before continuing "I couldn't believe it when you volunteered for a second tour."
Steve sighed it was his turn to become wistful. "I volunteered because at the time there were things I wanted to forget." He looked across at her, "And things I wanted to remember."
She could not hold his gaze, she looked down at her hands. "When you got back to the states you were fairly easy to keep track of and I was married to a member of the diplomatic core remember." She finally looked back at him a smile on her face as the memories became less painful. "You don't exactly move around a lot."
"So why did you do it?" He asked his curiosity peaked. "Why keep track of me?"
"Oh I don't know. I guess I just wanted to know that you were all right." She took the thoroughly wrung out cloth and dipped it in the ice water once more. Now that the subject matter was back on safer emotional ground she did not feel the need to hold on to him. She placed the cloth gently on his forehead. "Over the years it became kind of a hobby and then when we moved here I toyed with the idea of getting in touch. Catching up on old times."
"But you didn't," Steve paused. "Until last night."
"Until last night," she agreed.
Steve knew that his next question was stepping on dangerous ground but he asked anyway. "Why not?" She looked at him pretending not to understand the question. He asked it again. "Why didn't you contact me when you moved here?"
"I didn't need you until last night."
"That's not exactly what I asked."
"I was afraid," she admitted. "Afraid that my feelings for you hadn't changed even after all this time." She paused again. "Afraid of betraying my husband when all the time he was..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She bit her lip to avoid returning to the emotional turmoil. She needed to remain focused.
Steve gently touched her face. "And had they? Would your feelings have betrayed you." He asked in a voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. He held his breath as he waited for her to answer.
She stared into his eyes. "Yes," she answered equally softly. "I believe they would have." And she leaned forward and brushed her lips tenderly against his before sitting up again.
Steve released the breath he had been holding slowly. How could their feelings for each other still be so strong? He decided not to analyse it. He realised that Emma was staring at him. There was an awkward silence neither of them knowing what to say or do next.
It was finally broken by Steve coughing. The action caused him to wince involuntarily as it jarred both his damaged ribs and his shoulder. Emma's show of concern was instantaneous as she was reminded of just how serious Steve's condition was becoming. She allowed him to grip her hand again as she waited for the spasm to pass.
Steve was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the pain. He had managed whilst he was listening to Emma's account of events but if he shifted position or worse coughed as he just had done the pain became almost unbearable. He realised that if he coughed again he probably would not be able to remain conscious. He also realised that without treatment the prognosis was not good.
"Emma," he said when he finally trusted himself to speak. "The bullet in my shoulder. It needs to come out."
Emma knew the truth in what he was saying, could hear the pain in his voice, could see it in his eyes. "I know." she said then added almost pleadingly. "Let me take you back to the hospital."
"No," Steve replied, having heard what was at stake he was even more sure that if either of them were seen at a hospital it would not be safe. Everyone concerned would now assume that since he was helping her he would be as likely to know the location of the disc as she would and as such, he was now just as much of a target. He gripped her arm and waited until she was looking directly at him. "You'll have to do it."
Emma looked horrified at the suggestion. "I... I.... I can't"
"Emma," he said firmly trying to convince her. "You trained as a nurse. You worked in a military hospital. You've seen this done hundreds of times. You can do it."
"That was more than thirty years ago," she protested. "In case you haven't been listening. I've been nothing but a professional hostess and party goer since then. The nearest I've got to an operation is carving meat off the bone. I just can't...."
"Emma," Steve interrupted her. "There's no one else." He stated simply.
She looked at him realising that it was true. She was his only chance. If she couldn't do it... the consequences didn't bear thinking about. "OK," she said quietly. "I'll try." She stood up. "I'll get together the things that I need."
As she stood, Steve slightly released his grip so that her arm slid through his hand keeping contact for as long as possible, until finally her hand slid through his fingers. "Thank you," he said.
In the kitchen Emma assembled clean cloths and hot water before looking for the essential item that she would need, a sharp knife. Her eyes scanned the kitchen until she found what she was looking for. The knife block stood on the counter over the far side of the kitchen. She walked over to it her hand shaking as she reached out to pull out one of the knives.
She pulled the blade clear but as soon as she caught sight of it she dropped it as though she had been burned. The knife fell and embedded itself in the floor swaying backwards and forwards in a macabre repeat of the memory that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. She backed away from it. Unable to take her eyes from it as it moved backwards and forwards, the vibrations dying, until it was still.
She leaned heavily against the wall knowing that she would not be able to touch the knife again. It was too close, too near to what she remembered from her home the night before. A detail she hadn't been able to tell Steve about. Her memory of the bloody knife in the table.
She closed her eyes tightly as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry Steve," she whispered. She knew that if she couldn't pick up the knife that she would not be able to help him and that without help he probably would not survive. "I'm so, so sorry," she repeated and the tears fell.