Disclaimers in Pt. 1.
Chapter 9
Corporal Roberts landed his shuttle in front of the Embassy and got out, glancing at his watch as he did so. He was relieved to see that it wasn't yet three o'clock; he was still on time. He'd been a bit worried about that - before he'd left the mothership, Janisch and Calhoun had taken him aside to give him the latest gossip from the crew, and it had taken more time that he had anticipated.
I wonder if it's true, mused Roberts, as he nodded to the guards stationed at the Embassy entrance. Speculation concerning the rumour that Zo'or had decided to appoint Major Kincaid to the position of Flight Commander had apparently been running rampant over the past few hours. I hope it is...
Major Kincaid generated a great deal of gossip and speculation among the Volunteers, and had done so ever since he had abruptly shown up at Commander Boone's funeral and saved Da'an from the Jaridian replicant. He was the only Companion-Protector without a CVI, and according to the rumour mill, Zo'or had been the one to insist that he not be given one - which had only added to the mystery.
As well as being a Companion-Protector - which was a full-time job in and of itself - Major Kincaid was also one of the best pilots Roberts had ever seen. He seemed to have a natural instinct for it - and if the other set of rumours that were currently making the rounds were true, about what he'd said to Lieutenant Benning yesterday, it was even more than that.
Roberts had been trained by the late Captain Marquette, who had been a gifted shuttle pilot - one of the first humans to fly a shuttle - and been instrumental in developing the control interface that the human pilots used. But she hadn't been a miracle worker. The Major wasn't quite as expert a pilot as Captain Marquette had been, but came very close. If he had learned from her how to fly a shuttle that well - without ever having used the simulator - it had definitely been something about Major Kincaid, rather than Captain Marquette.
Assuming the rumour was true, of course. If there was one thing he'd definitely learned during his time as a Volunteer, it was that even if there was a grain of truth to a rumour, it was generally exaggerated all out of proportion.
By this time, Roberts had reached Da'an's audience room, which was - for some reason he wasn't aware of - also Major Kincaid's office. Peering in, he saw the Major sitting at his desk, scowling at a pile of paper that was on top of it.
Another one of the Embassy guards - Corporal Terry Standings, who had been in the same Basic Training camp as Roberts - was standing at attention just outside the entrance to the audience room. Roberts gave him a nod.
Standings grinned back at him. "Glad to see you, Michael," he said. "You're here to see the Major?"
"Yep," Roberts replied. "He called me about an hour ago and asked me to come down here. No idea why, though," he added.
"My guess is that he wants to ask you some questions," Standings replied. He glanced into the room behind him for a moment, and then turned back to Roberts with an expression of quiet pride on his face. "I don't know if you've heard, but Zo'or's putting him in charge of the pilots."
Roberts nodded slowly. "Yes, I did hear that - the rumour mill is passing it throughout the mothership," he replied.
"Well, I'm just glad you're here; I've been starting to get worried that he's going to try to slip out of here when I'm not looking," Standings told him. "He's been complaining for the past half hour about having nothing to do except paperwork."
Roberts frowned, understanding what the other man was getting at. The Major was being targeted by a professional assassin; if he stepped out of the protection of the Embassy, he might as well paint a bull's-eye on his back. "Got it," he said, giving Standings a sharp nod. Message received and understood. He'd do his best to keep the Major occupied for as long as he could.
Entering the audience room, Roberts walked over to the Major's desk and saluted. "Corporal Roberts reporting as ordered, sir," he stated.
Major Kincaid looked up, smiling. "At ease, Corporal," he said. "I'm very glad to see you; you've just gone and saved me from drowning in a sea of paperwork."
Roberts grinned in response. In the two days that he'd been acting as the Major's pilot, he'd very quickly learned that, unlike Agent Sandoval, Major Kincaid encouraged a certain informality. "Glad to be of service, Major," he replied, relaxing his stance.
The Major gestured to a chair that stood in front of the desk. "Sit down, relax," he suggested. "This is going to take a while, and you don't want to be on your feet the entire time."
As Roberts obeyed, the Major moved the pile of papers in front of him off to one side.
"First of all, I don't know if you're aware of this, but Zo'or has-"
"-Put you in charge of the pilots," Roberts finished for him.
Major Kincaid blinked.
"It's all over the mothership," Roberts explained, shrugging. "I was told before I left to come down here, and then Terry - Corporal Standings - told me a minute ago."
"All over the mothership," the Major repeated numbly.
Roberts nodded.
"Wonderful," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair, and then shifted as Roberts saw a flicker of pain cross his face. "In that case," the Major continued, "I might as well get straight to the point.
"Agent Sandoval told me yesterday that the pilot training program has been experiencing some difficulties. He wanted me to start looking into the situation, and to see if I could find a way to correct the problems. Yesterday afternoon, there was an orientation lecture for the most recent class, which I attended." The Major's eyes darkened a bit. "I wasn't overly impressed."
Roberts nodded, although he did wonder why Major Kincaid was explaining all this.
"Then, this morning, Zo'or decided to appoint me Flight Commander, which gives me the authority to make any changes I deem necessary. However, the first thing I need to do is find out what needs to be changed."
"Makes sense," Roberts agreed.
Major Kincaid grinned in response, and Roberts noticed him relaxing slightly. "I thought so too.
"Anyway, what I'm going to be doing over the next week - until my appointment to the position officially takes effect - is asking questions of certain Volunteers; both pilots and those who started the training, but failed for some reason or another. I decided to start with you because I know what sort of pilot you are; I want to use your capabilities and level of competence to establish a baseline for the answers I'll be getting."
It was Roberts' turn to blink. Agent Sandoval had mentioned that Major Kincaid respected him as a pilot - which had been hard to believe, considering the Major's own skills - but it was one thing to hear it from Agent Sandoval, who wasn't a pilot, after all, and another to hear it from the Major himself.
"I'll be glad to help any way I can, sir," Roberts replied.
"Good. Then let's get started."
Liam listened very carefully as Corporal Roberts explained his training in detail.
It seemed to be remarkably similar to the program that Lieutenant Benning was currently running, which suggested that either the current problems with the training were very subtle, or there was something else going on.
Though he hadn't mentioned it to Sandoval, his main difficulties with the orientation lecture yesterday had been Lt. Benning's views. He seemed to automatically assume that most of the trainees would fail, and had made that quite clear in his speech. That wasn't the type of attitude that they should be going into training with.
There was also the matter of Benning's attitude toward non-Implants; the way he had implied that those Volunteers with implants would be better pilots grated on Liam's nerves, especially considering what he knew about the Volunteer implants and the modifications Zo'or had introduced. He seemed determined to ignore the fact that Lili, who had been the best pilot the Taelons had - and Liam himself - had never been implanted.
And you don't like the way he reacted to you, Liam admitted to himself, absently beginning to scratch his right palm.
No, what really made it obvious that there was a problem with the training program were the statistics. Although he disagreed with the way Lt. Benning had mentioned it, the statistics the Lieutenant had recited to the trainees were quite accurate - for the program since the crackdown, that was. Before the crackdown, it had averaged closer to 12 Volunteers out of every 15 graduating. To go from 80% of the class graduating down to about 25% meant that there was definitely something seriously wrong.
He had been hoping that it was something as simple as a total re-organization of the training program as a result of what the Volunteers saw as Lili's treachery. But based on what Roberts was telling him, that wasn't it at all.
It looked as though he was going to have more to do than he'd thought...
Renee looked around as she stood in the office of the head of the Arctic research facility. The room was nicely decorated with pictures - most probably of Dr. Greenbaum's kids and their families, she guessed - and the atmosphere was such that it didn't feel as though they were in an isolated location miles from everywhere. Which was, she supposed, exactly the impression it was supposed to convey.
Jonathan had thought that it would be a good idea for her to do a security check of the facility, since she was going to be coming here with Dr. Morneaux anyway.
It hadn't taken very long to do; the facility wasn't all that large, and since it was so isolated, there weren't exactly any neighbouring communities to gossip about it - unlike the oil platform off the coast of Peru.
She grimaced at the thought. That was a security nightmare; especially since Sandoval and the Taelons - and Liam, for that matter - had found out about the Taelon artifacts in the area. She still wasn't sure if it had been a wise idea to tell Liam about Ma'el's ship; unfortunately, they hadn't exactly had much choice.
"Ms. Palmer?"
Turning around, she gave Dr. Greenbaum a nod of acknowledgement. "I've finished my security inspection, Doctor," she told the older woman. "I'm quite satisfied with the various precautions you have in place; and I must admit to being very impressed by the thermal baffles you've got set up."
"I'm glad you like them, Ms. Palmer," Dr. Sylvia Greenbaum replied. "They're really what make this as secure a location as it is."
Renee nodded. She was fully aware of the effects of the thermal baffles; what had impressed her was how thoroughly they managed to conceal the facility's heat signature. Not even a Taelon shuttle flying overhead should be able to detect the research complex.
"Now, I have just a few questions, and then I have to be getting back to Washington," she said.
Dr. Greenbaum frowned. "I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment, Ms. Palmer," she said, shaking her head.
Renee looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Dr. Greenbaum turned on the terminal on her desk and typed something in. Then she turned the screen to show Renee what looked like a cloud of white. "This is what it's like outside at the moment. It's a full strength blizzard. There's no way any planes can get through that, and we don't have any portals, as you know, for security reasons. I'm afraid you're stuck here until it dies down."
"And how long will that take?" Renee demanded, staring at the screen in dismay. This was the last thing she needed, to be stuck here while everything was going on down in Washington.
The older woman sighed, shaking her head again. "I can't say; you'd have to check with Fred Andrews - our resident meteorologist. It could be as little as a few hours, or it could last two to three days. Either way, I'm afraid you'll be here until it's over."
Lovely. Just lovely. Jonathan is going to be fit to be tied. This is going to be a disaster - especially if it lasts longer than a few hours. I need to be back in Washington by Monday afternoon for that meeting...
"If you don't mind, Doctor," she said, smiling as politely as she could under the circumstances, "I'll take your advice and go talk to Mr. Andrews."
"I'll get you set up with a room, just in case," Dr. Greenbaum called from behind her, as she went out the door.
Great. Absolutely wonderful. This week has just gone from very bad to disastrous.
Sandoval pushed himself away from the desk with a sigh of mingled irritation and exasperation.
It had become obvious yesterday evening that if the Taelon databases did contain any information about his son, it was information that not even Zo'or had access to - and Sandoval didn't have a copy of Da'an's energy signature that he could use to check. Therefore, that was a dead end.
As a result, he'd decided to go back to his original plan - taking into account the fact that since his son was a hybrid, his growth rate would be different, and so his actual age could be anything up to four years or so. His physical age, on the other hand...
Sandoval had no idea how old his son might appear now. If he based his assumptions on the growth rate of the babies at the moonbase, his son could even appear to be an adult.
All this was going to make finding him much, much harder.
At the same time, he'd also been going over the plan he'd worked out with Kincaid earlier. Something about it had been nagging at him; his instincts were screaming at him that they were missing something. Something big. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet been able to figure it out.
Maybe talking to Kincaid about it would help him figure out what the problem was.
Standing up, he left the room and walked the short distance down the hall to Da'an's office. Corporal Standings was still there; his official shift started at five, and it was only four-thirty.
Sandoval had been rather interested by the fact that all the Embassy guards had agreed to have their turn at guarding Major Kincaid before the start of their shifts. It was another example of the respect and loyalty they felt toward Kincaid; a respect and loyalty the younger man hadn't even realized that he'd earned.
"The Major's still talking to Corporal Roberts, sir," Cpl. Standings said.
"Thank you, Corporal," Sandoval replied, and walked in.
Kincaid was sitting at his desk, listening and nodding at something Corporal Roberts was saying. His eyes flickered over to Sandoval as the agent walked in, and he gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement before returning his attention to his conversation with Roberts.
Sandoval stayed where he was, not wanting to interrupt the discussion, though he was pleased that Kincaid had noticed him come in. He'd been a bit worried earlier, when he'd walked straight up to the Major, carrying the bags of food, and Kincaid hadn't even realized he was there until he'd gotten his attention by dropping the food directly in front of him.
"Thanks, Roberts," Kincaid said, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning; and I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this to anyone."
"Of course not, sir," Roberts replied, also standing up. He turned, and gave Sandoval a surprised salute. "Sir!"
"It's all right, Corporal," Sandoval said, gesturing with one hand for the Volunteer to relax.
"Yes, sir," Roberts said, nodding, and then hurried out.
"So, what's up?" Kincaid asked, not sitting down.
Sandoval was about to reply when he noticed something.
The Major had his hands together, and it looked as though he was scratching his right palm; scratching it fairly hard, at that.
"Major, is something wrong?" he asked, worried. He'd noticed Kincaid rubbing his palms a number of times over the past several days, but rubbing was different than scratching.
Kincaid tilted his head - something he'd been doing rather than shrugging since he had been shot. "Well, it looks like I was wrong about the source of the problems with the training program, though I can't be sure until I've finished talking to all the pilots," he offered.
Sandoval shook his head. "I meant with your hands," he said. "You've been rubbing them all week, and now you're scratching them."
Kincaid blinked, looking surprised - obviously he hadn't noticed what he was doing. "Well, they have been itching a bit lately," he began, and glanced down at his palms.
A strange expression - almost like fear, Sandoval thought in surprise - crossed Kincaid's face for just a moment, and then he closed his hands into fists and looked up, his face impassive. "They're just itchy," he repeated. "Did you want to see me about something?"
Liam sat down in his chair as Sandoval started explaining his feeling that they were missing something. He had to sit down; if he hadn't, he would probably have collapsed, and that would have told Sandoval that something was very definitely wrong.
Until Sandoval had mentioned it, he hadn't consciously noticed that he had been scratching his palms a great deal lately. Not just rubbing, but scratching - because they had been itching.
Only it hadn't been his palms that had been itching... it had been his shaqarava.
When he'd looked down at his palms - actually looked at them - the mark of his shaqarava had been obvious; they were a dark, angry red. He was vaguely surprised that he hadn't noticed before this, if they'd been this dark...
But you thought that they'd disappeared - disappeared for good, he thought. So you never even thought to look. And now something's wrong with them.
This was a problem. A big problem. And one that he had no clue how to solve.
He could always talk to Dr. Park about it, but she knew even less about shaqarava than he did. And as for Da'an... well, Liam wasn't entirely certain that he could trust Da'an with this anymore. Wasn't certain he could trust Da'an with anything anymore. And with the marks this obvious, it was only a matter of time before someone - like Sandoval or Zo'or - noticed, and started putting two and two together...
I'm going to have to hide them... somehow, he thought, as his father continued speaking. At least until I figure out what's wrong with them...
If anything's wrong with them, Liam added ruefully to himself. It was quite possible that the period of dormancy, followed by this - whatever 'this' was - was normal; but Liam didn't think so.
I may have no choice but to talk to Da'an about this. He's the only one who knows about me and has the knowledge of the shaqarava...
Suddenly, Sandoval's voice interrupted his preoccupation. "All right, Major, what's wrong?"
Liam blinked, focusing on his father. Sandoval was studying him, his expression one of concern.
"Nothing's wrong," Liam lied calmly, keeping his hands closed.
"Then why haven't you been listening to a word I've said?" Sandoval demanded.
"I've been listening," Liam protested, once again blessing his perfect Kimera memory. "You were talking about tomorrow's plan, and how you think we've missed something somewhere - though as far as I can see, we've got all the contingencies covered. He might be able to get access to the site, but Roberts is going to be in the shuttle above and scanning continuously for the vaile, so-"
"Major!" Sandoval interrupted. The concern in his expression was rapidly being replaced by exasperation.
Liam breathed a silent sigh of relief at having successfully distracted his father. "Seriously, Sandoval - at every point along my route I'll have two teams of Volunteers within shouting distance, and Roberts will be just overhead. As soon as the shuttle's sensors pinpoint the vaile, we'll be able to close in on him, catch him... and with any luck, still get a chance to enjoy part of the festival."
Sandoval frowned. "I still think we're missing something," he said. "Something obvious, that's right in front of our noses."
"The only thing I can think of that would be a problem is if he decided to fire into the crowd," Liam said, pulling the map they'd been using up on his screen. "Though if that happens, everything gets shot to hell anyway."
"And I'm fairly certain he won't do that," Sandoval countered, shaking his head as he came around the desk and studied the map from over Liam's shoulder. "You're his target, and he's a professional, which means he'll be aiming to kill you and then get out of there without risk to himself."
Oh, thanks for the reminder, Liam thought sourly.
"Besides, McKenna's always abhorred the idea of civilian casualties," Sandoval continued with a sigh. "He won't fire into a crowd and risk innocent people getting killed."
"People that he considers innocent," Liam added unhappily. He started to rub his palm, and then caught himself just in time. Careful, Liam, careful. You can't let Sandoval see your hands. Not now.
Sandoval nodded in acknowledgement of Liam's statement, and then sighed again. "And even if he has changed and does end up firing into the crowd, there isn't much we can do about it, as you pointed out. I really can't think of anything we can change."
That statement - and the resigned tone in which it was uttered - were so uncharacteristic of Sandoval that Liam stared at him for a moment in surprise. Then, as he watched, Sandoval rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking tired.
No, not tired, Liam corrected himself, as he studied his father a bit more carefully. Exhausted. He looks as though he's been getting less sleep than I have.
This was supposed to be his vacation time. He was supposed to be relaxing, enjoying life for once, not protecting me from a professional assassin. No wonder he's exhausted.
There's got to be something I can do...
Wait a minute. Liam frowned as something suddenly occurred to him. "Sandoval, when did you come in this morning?" he asked.
Sandoval looked at him in obvious confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what time did you get into the Embassy this morning?" Liam elaborated.
"I stayed here last night," Sandoval replied curtly, returning his attention to the map on Liam's screen and glaring at it.
Liam's frown deepened as he continued to study his father. No wonder Sandoval was tired - Liam doubted that he'd been able to get much sleep on what passed for beds here. The only reason he had slept for so long was because he had been completely exhausted, and because the increased dosage of painkillers Dr. Park had given him had finally caught up with him. "Why?" he demanded.
The look Sandoval gave him was one of pure exasperation.
"I mean, the Embassy is guarded 24 hours a day," Liam pointed out rapidly, wanting to avoid another lecture on the fact that he was a target. He was only too aware of that fact, and didn't feel like having it repeated yet again. "You didn't have to stay here."
"It was the most convenient way to handle the situation," Sandoval replied evenly. "Would you have done any differently in my position?"
Liam paused for a moment. Well, he's definitely got me there... "No," he admitted, "I wouldn't. But I've got a much better idea for tonight."
Sandoval turned around to face him. "You are not staying at your apartment, Major," he said firmly.
"I wasn't going to suggest that," Liam protested innocently. He had considered using that option to try to soften Sandoval up for his real suggestion, but only for a moment. Sandoval had put his foot down about it last night, and it was more than likely that bringing it up again would have only irritated him - with the result that they would end up spending another night in the Embassy, which was exactly what Liam was trying to avoid.
"So what did you have in mind?" Sandoval asked, his tone wary.
"Your apartment," Liam replied.
Sandoval just stared at him.
"It makes sense," Liam said persuasively. "I want to sleep in a real bed tonight; and you look really tired, Sandoval - I'd much prefer that you be at your best tomorrow. That means not trying to sleep in a cot here at the Embassy. And since you've already made it clear that my apartment isn't an option, that leaves yours."
Sandoval still looked sceptical, but he was at least listening to Liam. That was good; Liam had no doubt that it would be much easier to convince him to go along with this now, rather than when he was fully awake.
"And if you're worried about security," he continued rapidly, "we can always get a squad of Volunteers to act as an escort." Liam hesitated, and then let his own concern show. "You really do look exhausted, Sandoval. This whole mess interrupted what was supposed to be your vacation, and it isn't fair to you. Between an escort of Volunteers, you, and not being at my place, I think it should be safe enough."
"All right," Sandoval said finally, sighing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "I'll get Captain Jardine to send a squad to meet us here in a few hours."
Good. Liam smiled in satisfaction. "Until then, want to help me with the paperwork?" he offered then, knowing how his father would respond.
"No thanks, Major," Sandoval replied. "I've still got some work to do."
I wonder what he's working on? "Well, the offer will remain open," he declared, grinning.
"I'll remember that," Sandoval threw over his shoulder as he turned to leave.
Liam waited until Sandoval was gone, and then leaned back in his chair and opened his hands, staring down at his palms and the dark red marks they now bore.
So what do I do now?
Augur leaned forward and frowned at the screen in front of him. "Are you sure about this?" he demanded.
Holo-Lorna looked insulted - a look she did quite well, Augur noticed absently. "Of course I am, Augur," she told him. "I don't make mistakes like this."
"No, you don't," Augur admitted, looking back at the screen. "I'm sorry - I'm just worried about Liam."
"But it isn't Lieutenant Colonel McKenna who's been accessing these files," Holo-Lorna pointed out.
"No, which is a partially good thing - it means that McKenna doesn't know what's really going on, which can only be to Liam's advantage. The problem is that it's the same Fed who was checking Liam's records - Andrew Patterson - and whatever the FBI finds out, Sandoval finds out," Augur explained. "Which is a very bad thing."
"Should we let Major Kincaid know?" Holo-Lorna suggested.
After thinking for a minute, Augur shook his head. "No, not yet. He's got enough on his plate right now with McKenna after him. We'll wait until they catch McKenna, and then tell him.
"Meanwhile, Lorna, I'd like you to keep a tracer on Patterson. I want to know everything he does, every file he tries to access; the more we know about what he's doing, the better prepared we'll be to deal with it."
"Whatever you say, Augur," the hologram replied.
As she got to work, Augur stood up from the console and started pacing.
When he'd first set up the persona and records of 'Major Liam Kincaid', the kid had only been about twelve hours old and the real Liam Neville Kincaid was, as far as everyone was concerned, missing in action and presumed dead.
He'd known as soon as they met Colonel Zeke - the real Liam Kincaid - that things were liable to get complicated down the road. Sure, the Colonel had given Liam permission to keep using his identity, but what would happen after the Taelons had been stopped? Would the Colonel want to reclaim his identity? And where would that leave Liam?
The one thing he hadn't anticipated was this.
All the information about Operation Dark Knight was very, very carefully hidden. There were files on all personnel involved in ODK, as well as operating details and the like, stored in a mainframe, but it was buried so deeply that all his probing when he'd been setting up Liam's identity hadn't garnered even a hint of it.
As much as Augur hated to admit it, Bettis - who was apparently in charge of all computer-related security for ODK - was as much of a genius as he was when it came to making computers behave. He had hidden everything on ODK so well that if he hadn't shown Augur exactly how to get at it, Augur would have never even known where to look.
And once he'd found out, Augur had gone and added an extra layer or two of security on top of Bettis', using his knowledge of Taelon technology to help bury the information even deeper.
Only now it seemed that Andrew Patterson, FBI agent, had managed to gain access to at least one layer of the ODK files. Augur wasn't entirely certain what it was that he had accessed, but it had definitely been something.
Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the couch and leaned back. He'd sent a message to Bettis, alerting him about the security breach; he'd just set Lorna up to do a full trace program on Patterson... Now, all he could do was wait.
Wait, and worry about Liam.
Liam yawned as he used his left hand to push himself away from his desk, and glanced at his watch. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed the time - eight o'clock? Had he really been working for three hours straight?
Looking back at his desk, and taking in the amount of paperwork in his 'completed' pile, he grinned ruefully. I guess I have been working that long, he admitted.
He'd managed to find a pair of lightweight fingerless gloves in one drawer - a gift Lili had given him after he'd explained to her how he'd re-joined Da'an to the Commonality, and showed her the marks on his palms that revealed the presence of his shaqarava. The next morning, she'd presented him with the gloves - "Just in case you need to keep your hands hidden," she'd told him. "Not all Taelons are as... willing to overlook things as Da'an." Not that he'd needed her to tell him that...
Thank you, Lili, he thought now, pulling on the gloves and stretching his hands. His shaqarava were still itching - worse than ever, in fact - but he was determined to ignore it. For the moment, his immediate concern had to be dealing with the assassin; after McKenna was dealt with, he'd figure out what to do about his shaqarava. But for now, they were just going to have to wait.
So, where is Sandoval? he wondered.
Standing up, he walked over to the exit, nodding to the Volunteer currently standing guard - Private Lucy McGillam, her name was.
"Have you seen Agent Sandoval recently, Private McGillam?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," McGillam replied. She gestured toward the Embassy entrance. "Your security escort just arrived; he went out to meet them."
Liam gave her a smile in response. "Thank you, Private," he said, and started in the direction of the entrance. This time he wasn't as startled as she fell into step just behind him, though he felt more than a touch exasperated. It wasn't as though he was actually going to leave the Embassy - at least, not until Sandoval had their escort all ready...
They're concerned for you, Liam, he thought, reminding himself of his father's words earlier. They want to express their concern; and as long as they're not leaning over your shoulder and getting in your way, it isn't really that much of an inconvenience, is it?
Of course, the fact that a prisoner is escorted the same way doesn't help...
Liam shook his head, a bit irritated with himself. Why was he being so pessimistic lately?
Oh, maybe it's because there's an assassin after you; Zo'or's acting strange - almost nice - to you; Renee and Doors have essentially stabbed you in the back - again... Not to mention the little game you're playing with Sandoval, dropping clues here and there, and the matter of your shaqarava reappearing...
Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Liam rubbed his left hand roughly over his face. Brooding wouldn't solve anything, and it wasn't really his way, either. It was just a combination of fatigue, residual effects from the painkillers, and the fact that he was a target at the moment, that was all. As soon as they caught McKenna, things would go back to normal.
Well, as normal as things get around me, at any rate, he reflected ruefully, but the thought didn't have the same undertone of pessimism as the rest of what he'd been thinking.
"Are you all right, Major?" McGillam asked, her tone concerned.
Liam smiled at her again. "Just tired," he replied, fighting back another yawn. "It's been a very long week so far, and it isn't even over yet."
The smile he got in response was sympathetic. "I can imagine," McGillam said, shaking her head. "Forgive me for saying so, sir, but there are times when I'm very glad that I'm just a Volunteer."
Before Liam could come up with an answer to that, they arrived in the main lobby of the Embassy. There was a group of five Volunteers standing in the centre of the lobby, and Sandoval was walking toward them.
"Major, I was just about to come and get you," Sandoval said as he approached. "Are you ready to leave?"
"More than ready," Liam replied fervently. At last, he was going to be able to get out the Embassy. "I think I actually managed to clear my desk."
Sandoval gave him a faint grin. "For the moment, at least," he said, and the grin widened as Liam's expression showed his dismay at the thought.
"Well, everything I've had up to now is done, and like I said, I am more than ready to get out of here."
Sandoval nodded, and then gestured to the team of Volunteers, who surrounded the two Companion-Protectors to escort them outside. Liam gave McGillam a nod and a friendly wave, and then went along with 'his' security.
The trip to Sandoval's apartment was spent in silence. Liam was starting to feel just a little uncomfortable, as he realized that this would be the first time that he'd ever been to his father's place, and he had the distinct feeling that Sandoval was uneasy about this idea as well. However, it was too late now for second thoughts.
When they reached Sandoval's building, four of the Volunteers got out of the car with them, while the fifth one - the driver - parked the car across the street and settled in. Staking the place out, Liam realized, in an effort to make sure that McKenna didn't show up.
Their entrance caused a number of stares from people scattered around the luxurious lobby, and Liam had to stifle an inappropriate giggle as he remembered Renee's story of how she'd gotten hold of the names of the missing Resistance members after the crackdown, and her description of the doorman's reaction.
The reaction this time wasn't quite as... surprised... but Liam still felt a prickle between his shoulderblades as the stares fixed on him. He didn't like being the centre of attention; a large part of his effectiveness, both as Da'an's Protector and as the leader of the Resistance, was that he stayed out of the spotlight.
He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and then bit down on a moan of pain as the movement sent a spasm of agony through his right side. Not a wise thing to have done.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sandoval eyeing him with concern - he'd obviously heard the stifled moan. Liam tilted his head at his shoulder in a rueful movement, and Sandoval nodded in acknowledgement.
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Liam felt himself start to relax a bit. Yes, he was still surrounded by four Volunteers and Sandoval - which wasn't the most comfortable position for him to be in, even if they were only concerned for his safety - but at least he was away from all the stares.
Then, realizing that Sandoval was talking, he focused his attention on his father.
"I want two of you outside the apartment door at all times," Sandoval was saying to the Volunteers. "When your relief comes on, let them know that as well. As for the other two, one of you join Corporal MacDougall in the car, and the other I want stationed in the lobby. Keep an eye on everyone who comes in or out. You've all been given McKenna's picture; keep a sharp eye out for him. Remember that he's a skilled intelligence operative, and may choose to show up in disguise."
"Yes, sir," the Volunteers chorused as the elevator stopped and the door opened.
One of the Volunteers went out first, checking the hall, and then gestured back to them that it was all clear. Sandoval and Liam followed him out - Liam feeling a bit ridiculous at the elaborate security precautions, but at the same time acknowledging that they were probably a wise idea, if only to keep in practice - and they were, in turn, followed by a second Volunteer. The other two took the elevator back down to the lobby.
Liam followed Sandoval into the apartment - after the Volunteers had given it a once-over and come back out to the hall - and looked around curiously.
The layout was open and roomy, with light cream-coloured walls; a far cry from what might have been expected of the cold Implant personality his father projected to the outside world. The atmosphere was relaxing, and Liam found himself liking the place almost immediately.
"Spare bedroom's that room over there," Sandoval said suddenly, interrupting Liam's inspection of the apartment and pointing to a door on the far side of the main room. "The kitchen's just down that hall, if you want to grab something to eat - though there isn't much there. Bathroom's next to the kitchen."
Liam nodded, and then yawned. "Ummm... If you don't mind, I'll just go to bed," he mumbled through the yawn. "I may have gotten a lot of sleep last night, but I'm afraid I'm tired again."
"That's quite all right, Major," Sandoval replied, not sounding the least bit surprised. "As I said, the spare room's right over there. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll see you in the morning."
Liam nodded, and headed over to the door Sandoval had indicated.
The spare bedroom was... cozy, Liam decided, closing the door and looking around the room. It wasn't large, but it wasn't too small either.
He smiled as a line from a story Sandoval had liked as a young child crossed his mind: "And then she tried Little Bear's bed, and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but just right."
Well, he was no Goldilocks, but that was the impression he got from the room - that it was 'just right'.
Turning on the lamp set in one corner of the room, he sat down on the bed and pulled off his jacket, draping it over the small bedside table. Slipping out of his shoes, he pulled back the sheets and slipped into the bed, closing his eyes.
Feeling strangely secure, it didn't take long before he was curled up under the covers, sound asleep.
Sandoval sighed as he walked into his bedroom. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he started to slip off his jacket, and then heard a slight crackling noise. Reaching into the pockets, he pulled out a piece of paper. Too tired to pay attention to what it said at that moment, he just put it down on his bedside table next to the birthday card from his son and forced himself to get up and hang his jacket up in the closet.
Getting ready for bed didn't take very long, and within ten minutes, he was lying down under the covers.
As he had every night since he'd first received them, he looked at the two pictures that rested on the bedside table - the pictures of his son - before turning off the light and settling down to sleep.
Chapter 10
Sandoval pushed open the door of the restaurant and watched in amusement as his son raced in and headed straight for the video games.
"Which one do you want to play?" Sandoval asked, digging a handful of quarters out of his wallet. The game would keep the boy occupied while Sandoval ordered their dinner.
"Fighter Pilot!" his son exclaimed, the boy's tone telling him that his choice should have been obvious - that was what he wanted to be when he grew up, after all.
Sandoval grinned as he handed over the pile of quarters. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said. "Try not to use up all the money."
The four year old turned a scornful expression on his father, and then focused his attention on the game.
His grin widening, Sandoval went up to the counter and ordered a BLT for himself, and a chicken burger, fries and a small salad for his son.
"And I'll have a cheeseburger," said a familiar voice from behind him, and he turned to see Siobhan Beckett standing there.
"All right... A cheeseburger, and three small Sprites," Sandoval told the server.
He and Beckett waited in companionable silence as their order was prepared, both of them enjoying the relative peace of the family-oriented restaurant. It was very different from where they spent most of their time, and as such a welcome relief from the normal world.
The server put their order on the tray, and as Sandoval paid, Beckett gave him a startled look. "All that for the lad?" she asked, gesturing to the burger, fries and salad.
Sandoval shrugged. "He's a growing boy," he replied. "He's always hungry."
Picking up the tray, he retraced his steps to the video arcade, with Beckett at his side.
His son was absorbed in the game, and Sandoval looked on, amused - and with a touch of pride as well - when he noticed both the high score and the fact that the pile of quarters seemed to be only missing one coin. The boy had the reflexes to become a pilot, at least.
Waiting until he was between levels, Beckett came up behind him and said, "Excellent job, lad!"
"Mother!" the boy squealed in delight, spinning around and throwing his arms around Beckett's waist in a hug. "You're back!"
"Aye, lad, that I am - for a little while, at least. So, is the great fighter pilot goin' to join his father and I for dinner?"
"'Course!" the boy exclaimed. Picking up the pile of quarters, he put them on the tray Sandoval held out and latched onto Beckett's hand as they went to find a table.
They sat down, and Sandoval handed the food out, and then looked at his son with a slight frown. The boy was sitting quietly - which was unusual enough to put him on alert - and was staring down at his hands with a strange expression on his face.
"What is it?" Sandoval asked.
The boy raised his head, and his light grey-green eyes met Sandoval's. "Look, Father," he replied, holding his hands out, palms up, for Sandoval's inspection.
Sandoval obediently glanced down at them, and felt his eyes widen in shocked surprise as he saw the brilliant white light emanating from his son's hands.
Looking back up to ask a question, he abruptly found himself facing Liam Kincaid. The Major's light eyes, illuminated by the glow of the shaqarava shining from his open hands, were fixed on his.
"Can you see, Sandoval? Do you see? Do you understand now?"
Sandoval woke up with a jerk, to find himself sitting up in bed, breathing hard.
It was the same dream. His son, Beckett, Kincaid, shaqarava... the same dream.
Why-
Wait a minute. Shaqarava?
Sandoval frowned thoughtfully.
He had been having the dream for the past five or so weeks, since just before the incident at the Cloister.
Yet he'd just found out Friday morning - only two days ago - that his son was a hybrid... which meant that he most likely did have shaqarava.
So why had his dreams of his son always involved shaqarava?
Could he have known, somehow, before Dr. Curzon had told him?
But how?
Shaking his head, Sandoval sighed as he stood up. It's too early to worry about this, he thought, glancing at his watch to confirm his estimate of the time. He was right - it was just past seven o'clock.
He quickly got dressed and opened his bedroom door, and was surprised at the appetizing smells coming from the kitchen.
Kincaid was sitting on the couch in the main room, fully dressed and reading one of the books from Sandoval's shelves - The Brothers Grimm: Fairy Tales, Sandoval noted.
"Major?" he inquired.
Kincaid looked up, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "I hope you don't mind," he said, gesturing with the book, "but I've been up for a couple of hours and was getting a bit bored..."
Sandoval shook his head. "No, it's all right, Major. I was just wondering what smelled so good."
Kincaid gave him a shy smile. "It's a Western Omelette," he replied proudly. "Sergeant Higgins was getting breakfast for the other Volunteers, and called up to check if we wanted anything. I asked him to pick up the ingredients, and he dropped them off an hour or so ago, along with some clothes from my apartment. I've already eaten, but I put yours in the oven to keep warm."
"Thank you, Major," Sandoval said, touched. He'd hardly expected Kincaid to make breakfast for them; in fact, he'd intended to have one of the Volunteers pick something up and bring it to them at the Embassy.
The Major's smile widened. "You're welcome, Sandoval," he replied, and then returned his attention to the book.
Going into the kitchen, Sandoval opened the oven and took out the plate, then took it to the table to eat. Out of habit, he opened his global to check his messages.
There were two. The first was from Captain Jardine to say that the Volunteer squads who would be providing security for Kincaid at the festival had been fully briefed on the operation, and would be in position by nine o'clock, half an hour before Da'an was due to arrive.
The other message was encrypted, with a header that indicated it was a secure transmission. Andrew, I hope...
Entering his key, Sandoval watched as the message decrypted itself.
"Ron, this is Andrew. It's about... 1:15 Sunday morning. I'm heading home to get some rest, but I've got some urgent information for you. Very urgent. As in 'you-should-have-seen-this-a-year-ago' urgent. Give me a call as soon as you get this."
Frowning, Sandoval linked to the FBI secure communications net and called Andrew. He got a voice message that simply told him to leave a message at the sound of the beep.
"Andrew, this is Ron. Just got your message. It's 7:30 Sunday morning. I'll be at the Washington Embassy from about 8:15 to 9:15 this morning, if you need to reach me; after that, I'll be occupied until about 3p.m. down in Arizona. I'll talk to you later."
Closing his global, Sandoval started in on his breakfast - and felt a touch of surprise. Kincaid had cooked his omelette exactly the way he liked it, right down to the dash of pepper. How had he known?
More questions. The man is nothing but a huge question mark!
Pushing the thought away for the moment, Sandoval concentrated on enjoying his meal. It had been quite a while since he'd last had a homecooked breakfast - quite a while since he'd had the leisure to prepare one - and he fully intended to enjoy it as much as possible. He'd worry about everything else later.
Fifteen minutes later, he, Kincaid, and Kincaid's escort left his apartment building for the Embassy. Sandoval was quite pleased at the level of alertness displayed by the Volunteers; they were one of his elite teams - not the thugs he used for some of the missions Zo'or and the Synod ordered, but the best of the best.
He was also pleased at the respect they obviously held for Major Kincaid, though once again the younger man appeared to be completely oblivious to their reactions to him. His special teams rarely had anything to do with the Embassy guards, and had never before had anything to do with Kincaid. That they respected him the same way the guards did implied that Kincaid's reputation was well-established among the Volunteers, which could prove quite useful - assuming Andrew's information proved that Kincaid could be trusted, that was.
They arrived at the Embassy without incident, although Sandoval didn't relax until Kincaid was safely within the confines of the building. He was only too well aware of McKenna's skill at long-distance assassination - he'd witnessed it firsthand during the S.I. War. He didn't want to see it demonstrated again on Kincaid.
He dismissed the Volunteer team - they'd been on duty for six hours straight - and told them to get some rest, and be ready for another shift tonight. He hoped that the plan to catch McKenna would work, but he wasn't certain of it. It would be better to be prepared, just in case it did fail.
Private Lannart met them just inside the lobby.
"Sirs," he said, saluting them both, "Corporal Roberts is already here. He's waiting for you in Da'an's office."
"Thank you, Private," Kincaid said, smiling at the Volunteer and waving his left hand casually in response to the salute. Sandoval couldn't help but notice the fingerless glove Kincaid was wearing, and wondered absently if it had anything to do with why the Major had been scratching his hands yesterday.
Lannart followed them as they walked down the hall to Da'an's office, and stationed himself outside the door.
As they entered, Corporal Roberts stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in and saluted.
"As ease, Corporal," Kincaid said, walking over and sitting down behind his desk. He activated his terminal and called up the map of the festival grounds.
Before Sandoval could begin briefing the pilot on his role in the plan to capture McKenna, another Volunteer - one of the Embassy guards - appeared in the entrance.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sirs, but there's someone here to speak to Agent Sandoval," the Volunteer said.
"Who is it?" Sandoval demanded, irritated.
"FBI Special Agent Andrew Patterson, sir," the Volunteer replied. "He says it's urgent."
Sandoval glanced at his pocket-watch and grimaced. It was only 8:20; he'd hoped to have the opportunity to go over the plan - in general, at least - with Kincaid and Corporal Roberts before being interrupted. Couldn't you have been a few minutes later, Andrew? he wondered.
Turning to Kincaid, he said, "I'm afraid it really is urgent, Major; I've had Agent Patterson looking into something important for me. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes...?"
"Of course, Sandoval," Kincaid replied calmly.
Sandoval nodded to both Kincaid and Roberts, and then followed the Volunteer out of Da'an's office and toward the lobby.
"I'll meet him in here," he said, stopping as they reached the room he'd been using as an office for the past two days. "Could you please show him in?"
"Of course, sir," the Volunteer replied calmly, and headed toward the main lobby.
Sandoval sat down at the desk and waited patiently.
About two minutes later, the Volunteer reappeared with a rather haggard-looking Andrew trailing behind him.
"Thank you, Sergeant," Sandoval said.
"You're welcome, sir," the Volunteer said, saluting, and then closed the door as he left.
"Nice setup," Andrew commented, sinking down into the chair in front of the desk and looking around the room. "This your office?"
"No, my office is on the mothership. I'm just borrowing this one while I'm guarding Major Kincaid." He frowned. "You look like hell, Andrew."
"You're hardly one to talk," his friend retorted, then rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm just tired - I've spent about fifty of the past sixty hours working on that little puzzle you gave me."
Sandoval's frown deepened. "The message you left me this morning said that you were going to bed," he commented.
"I did," Andrew replied, yawning.
"Well, it doesn't seem to have done you much good," Sandoval pointed out.
"It's the only sleep I've gotten since Friday morning," Andrew explained. "Which reminds me; I hope you're willing to sign off on my request for hazard duty pay for this one. I spent a good three-quarters of those fifty hours of work digging into the US Military databases, and trying to avoid both their traps and the ones set by your Major Kincaid's friend, Augur. Whose real name, by the way, is Marcus Devereaux; he's got quite the interesting record. He's-"
"Fine," Sandoval interrupted. "I'll sign off on it. And I'm not interested in Augur; I'm interested in Kincaid.
"And that reminds me; why did you come here rather than just send me the information you've got by secure link?"
Andrew's expression became wary. "Because even the most secure link can be compromised, Ron; and believe me, this is not information that you want to get out."
"And why is that?" Sandoval demanded.
"Because this is big, Ron. This is really, really big," Andrew replied.
"Well?"
"Bear with me on this, okay? I'm going to lay it out for you bit by bit so that you understand how I got to the point I did." He must have seen the impatient look that crossed Sandoval's face, because he added, "It's important, all right? I don't know exactly what's going on - I haven't been able to figure that out - and I think you're going to need all the information I can give you."
Sandoval sighed. "All right, Andrew, go ahead," he said, leaning back in his chair. Andrew would do so anyway, and it was easier to go along with him than argue and waste more time.
"Well, you already know the first thing I discovered - that according to his records, Major Kincaid's brainwave patterns are identical to those of Jonathan Doors. I suspect that his friend Augur thought it might be an amusing practical joke - from the records on him, Augur has an... interesting sense of humour."
"He owns a bar called the Flat Planet Café," Sandoval said with a grimace.
Andrew grinned. "Yep, weird sense of humour... my kind of guy."
"That much I know already," Sandoval returned with an exasperated glare. "Go on."
"Anyway, as far as I could tell, there didn't seem to be any more anomalies in Major Kincaid's public records, so I checked his military files. And this is where it started to get really interesting."
Sometimes, I think that if Andrew ever comes straight to the point it will be the end of the world, Sandoval reflected, trying to hold on to his patience - and not succeeding very well. "Will you just get to the point, Andrew?"
"I'm getting there, Ron - be patient," Andrew told him calmly.
Sandoval gritted his teeth. It was a very good thing that Andrew was such a good friend, he reflected. If it had been otherwise, he could never have put up with this. "Andrew, I don't have that much time," he growled.
"Okay, okay." Andrew reached into the briefcase he'd brought in with him and pulled out a huge stack of paper with two photographs on top. One was of Major Kincaid, from his security file; the other was of a group of men, all in uniform, among whom Sandoval recognized William Boone.
Andrew looked at him, and then sighed. "The point... Fine. The point is, Ron, that this man here," he tapped Major Kincaid's picture, "is not Liam Neville Kincaid; or, at least, not the Liam Neville Kincaid who served under William Boone in the S.I. War."
What? Sandoval stared at his friend in utter shock. That's impossible! "What do you mean? Of course he is-"
"Ron," Andrew interrupted firmly, "trust me on this. They are not the same man." He tapped his finger against the group picture. "This was the first clue. I found it attached to the file of one of the men who died in the Taiwan ambush. This man," he pointed to the man standing to Boone's left, "is then-Lieutenant Liam Neville Kincaid."
Sandoval picked up the picture and studied it carefully. The man Andrew had pointed out was tall, with dark brown - or perhaps black - hair, and was very definitely not the Liam Kincaid that Sandoval knew.
"The first thing I considered was plastic surgery; they have the same basic build, and I figured that he could still have been a POW - some of them ended up taking some pretty nasty damage," Andrew continued, and Sandoval was still too shocked at the evidence he'd been presented with to cut him off. "But then I took a closer look at your Kincaid's file, and found that all the images of the real Kincaid, dating back to his recruitment, had been replaced." Andrew sat back in his chair. "Ergo, your Major Kincaid is not the real Liam Kincaid."
Sandoval got up and started to pace back and forth, the movement betraying his agitation. If Kincaid wasn't really Kincaid, then who the hell was he? All the unanswered questions he had concerning the younger man had just returned back to him, with more added.
"Is that everything?" he asked.
Andrew gave him what might have been termed a glare, if he hadn't been too tired to put much force behind it. "Of course not," he snapped. "That didn't take me all that long to find out at all."
"So what have you been doing since then?" Sandoval asked.
"Like I said, digging," Andrew replied resignedly. "I spent part of that time trying to dig up more info on your Kincaid, but I didn't get anywhere. All his information is falsified, Ron. It's almost as though he didn't even exist before he became Da'an's Protector. So, no luck there.
"But," he added, "I did finally manage to track down the real Kincaid." He tapped the pile of paper he'd dumped on the desk, and Sandoval stopped pacing to give him a curious look. "You would not believe the security they have surrounding that guy's file, Ron. That's what took up the most time - and what I want the hazard pay for."
Sandoval was beginning to regain his equilibrium. Okay, so Kincaid wasn't really Kincaid. That didn't change the things he did know about the man, although it made it much more urgent that he find out exactly who Kincaid really was. "Go on," he prompted Andrew, sitting back down in his chair.
Andrew took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "You've heard of Dark Knight, right?"
Sandoval blinked. I think I'm starting to become inured to surprises, he thought wryly. Between McKenna, the information about his son, Zo'or's behaviour, and now this, he'd had more than enough surprises to fill a year packed into a period of five days.
"Dark Knight?" he repeated, equally quietly. Not that he believed that anyone could hear them, but it was instinctive. This was, as Andrew had said, really really big. "You mean the military's covert underground? The ones who were controlling Mount Weather?"
"Yeah, that's the one," Andrew agreed. "Well, it turns out that Colonel Liam Kincaid is the field commander of Dark Knight."
Christ! Sandoval thought. This situation had just gotten enormously more complex. And to add to it all, the Major had been right in the middle of the Mount Weather situation. Had he and Colonel Kincaid met?
Was it only a week ago that I was looking forward to my vacation, in order to find my son, and the most complicated thing I had in mind was developing a strategy to counter Zo'or's next endeavour?
"Andrew... what do you need in order to determine the Major's real identity?" he demanded. That was the priority right at the moment, especially considering Kinc- the Major's new position - the position that he had persuaded Zo'or to give the Major. They could worry about Dark Knight later.
"Brainwave pattern would be good; a DNA sample would be even better - and easier to acquire," Andrew replied. "If you can get me his DNA, I should be able to provide you with his identity within twenty-four hours - less, if Augur hasn't set up more booby-traps around the information."
Sandoval nodded slowly. "I'll see about getting it for you," he replied, and then glanced at his pocket-watch. It was going on for nine o'clock; they'd been discussing this for almost three-quarters of an hour, and he still had wanted to run through the plan to catch McKenna one more time, see if he could figure out what had been bothering him about it. "I've got to go; I'll give you a call after I get back from Arizona, all right, Andrew?"
His friend nodded, standing up and returning the papers and photos to the briefcase. "I'll keep these until you have a chance to go through them," he said, gesturing to the case. "I'll show myself out."
Sandoval managed to smile. "Thanks, Andrew," he said quietly, reaching over to shake his friend's hand. "I appreciate your help in this."
Andrew looked at him soberly. "I told you when you got back in touch with me last year that I'd help you with anything, Ron, and I meant it. I don't want you ending up re-implanted with that... that thing, because you trusted the wrong people.
"That said," he added, a touch more relaxed, "the things that I have found out about your Major Kincaid are pretty good. My instincts say that no matter who he really is, you'd be right to trust him."
"Thanks," Sandoval repeated warmly. Then he took a deep breath and pulled his façade back on. "As I said, I'll speak with you later."
Lt. Colonel Gary McKenna frowned as he studied himself critically in the mirror.
He wasn't sure whether or not this thing in Arizona was supposed to be a trap - it depended on whether they'd actually managed to figure out who his real target was, he supposed, since the Synod Leader wouldn't be there. But whether they had or not, one of his secrets to success was to always assume that something this good was a trap.
That didn't mean that he wasn't going to be there. Trap or not, it was the perfect opportunity to deal with his target. He'd be able to get in, make the kill and get out, and they'd be helpless to detect him as he did so. Even if it was a trap.
His frown changed to a smile of satisfaction as he finished studying his reflection. Perfect. They'd never even see him coming.
Picking his duffle bag up off the bed, he slipped out of the hotel room, locking the door behind him. No matter whether he succeeded or failed, he wouldn't be back here.
Liam sat down in the shuttle, still feeling a bit uncomfortable about being the passenger rather than the pilot, and tugged nervously on his gloves. Despite his confidence in the plan he and Sandoval had developed, he was well aware that things could still go wrong.
And to make things worse, ever since Sandoval had returned from that meeting with the other FBI agent, he'd been watching Liam surreptitiously, his expression unreadable.
Ordinarily, even with Liam's intimate knowledge of his father, he wouldn't have noticed. Sandoval had watched him all the time - sometimes suspiciously, sometimes not - ever since he'd first become Da'an's Protector. But over the past several weeks, and particularly the last several days, he and Sandoval had begun to develop an affinity for each other.
But now, something was wrong; Liam could feel the strain on the tentative bond that had been forming between them. Something the other agent had told Sandoval was responsible, Liam suspected.
So what was it?
Maybe I should ask Augur if he can check out... what was his name? Right, Andrew Patterson. If he can check out Special Agent Andrew Patterson. Maybe even find out what he might have told Sandoval.
He tugged on his gloves again, wishing he could scratch his palms. His shaqarava were itching dreadfully; had been since he'd woken up early this morning from a rather ominous dream - or rather, a nightmare.
It had been that shadowy human figure again. Only this time, there had been someone in between himself and the figure; a tall, lean man with thinning blond hair and dark eyes. Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna. Even in the dream, Liam had recognized him.
Is it supposed to mean something? he wondered.
Despite what Augur thought - Liam had seen it in his face Thursday morning, when he'd mentioned the presentiment he'd had in Seattle - his visions didn't scare him. Well, not my ability to have visions, anyway, he admitted to himself. There were times when those visions he had did scare him. But the ability itself was something he'd inherited from his mother; and there was nothing he'd gotten from Siobhan Beckett that he feared. Certainly not like he did his shaqarava.
His shaqarava. They were definitely going to be a problem. He'd checked his hands this morning, just after he'd gotten up, and found that the colour hadn't faded any; they were still that dark, angry red. He'd probably be able to get away with wearing the gloves for another few days, but any longer than that and people - like Sandoval, Da'an and Zo'or, not to mention Augur, Renee and Doors - were going to start asking questions. Questions that, at this point in time, he had no idea how to answer.
Although Da'an might... I guess I'm going to have to ask him. He's the only person I can ask...
This has definitely not been my week, he thought ruefully, looking out the front of the shuttle to see that they were about to dock with the mothership to pick up Da'an. Not my week at all.
Da'an was waiting for them in the shuttle bay; as soon as Roberts lowered the virtual glass, the Taelon climbed in and sat down behind Sandoval.
"Everyone ready?" Roberts asked.
"Yes," Da'an replied, and Roberts raised the virtual glass and took them back out.
Ordinarily, Da'an would have been looking forward to attending this festival. The Native American culture - and the way they had managed to keep it intact despite the efforts of the settlers - fascinated him. And he had been looking forward to showing Liam some of the exhibits and demonstrations at the festival; Liam had never been to one before. It might even have provided him with an avenue to begin rebuilding the friendship they had lost.
Unfortunately, Liam was not coming as his Protector; he was coming as bait for an assassin. Da'an would be expected to enjoy himself while his Protector was placing himself in grave danger. It was something that he believed himself incapable of doing. Of course, he was a diplomat, and as such, adept at feigning enjoyment and interest. He preferred to avoid doing that; but this time, it would be necessary.
As they entered ID space, Da'an turned his seat around slightly so that he could see Liam.
His Protector was staring out at the view of ID space, a distant look on his face. Thinking about something - most likely something that had nothing to do with this Lieutenant Colonel McKenna, Da'an surmised.
Then, as Da'an watched, he saw Liam shift uncomfortably and tug at a piece of dark material that covered his right hand. A glove? Da'an wondered, confused. Admittedly, although it was late spring it was still very cool in Washington, D.C., but they were going to Arizona. It would be quite warm there. So why was Liam wearing gloves? It didn't make any sense.
He could ask; might have, a few months ago. Back when there was still some friendship and trust left between them.
Da'an missed the easy communion that he and Liam had shared almost from the very beginning of their relationship; missed that friendship and that trust that Liam had given so freely. But both had been slowly eroded, by degrees, until Da'an had used the trust the Resistance had in Liam to engineer its destruction, and thus destroy the trust between the two of them as well.
As a result, Da'an wouldn't - couldn't - ask. He no longer had the right, not when it was questions of a personal nature.
The view outside changed to that of a plain of scrubby grass as the Volunteer brought the shuttle out of interdimensional - not quite as smoothly as Liam might have done, Da'an noted, but quite well nonetheless.
"Remember, Corporal," Sandoval said, leaning forward in his seat as the Volunteer brought them in for a landing, "keep your sensors focused for any signs of the vaile."
"Yes, sir," the Volunteer replied calmly.
Da'an waited until Liam and Agent Sandoval had left the shuttle before getting out himself. When he exited, the two of them were speaking to a Volunteer who appeared to have been awaiting their arrival.
"Da'an," Sandoval said, turning to face him, "this is Captain Trisha Wang. She and her people will be filling in for Major Kincaid as your security."
"I am pleased to meet you, Captain Wang," Da'an said formally.
"Sir," the Captain acknowledged. "I've already spoken to the event co-ordinators; we are to meet them in that tent," she gestured to a plain, buff-coloured tent, "for the tour of the grounds."
"Thank you," Da'an said. Then he turned to Liam. "Liam... be careful," he said quietly.
Liam appeared to be surprised at the expression of concern. "I will, Da'an," he replied, his tone reassuring. "Everything will be just fine. Sandoval and I will probably join you later, after we've caught McKenna."
"Liam..." Da'an began, not wanting his Protector to get overconfident.
"I'll be careful, Da'an. I promise." Liam paused, and then lowered his voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard. "Da'an... can we talk? Later? There's something..." He hesitated for a moment, and Da'an saw him tug nervously on the glove covering his right hand. "There's something I need to ask you about."
"Of course, Liam. When we get back to the Embassy," Da'an replied, equally quietly. Then he returned his attention to Captain Wang. "If you will lead the way, Captain..."
Lt. Colonel McKenna watched carefully as Kincaid and Sandoval walked away from the Taelon, heading for the perimeter of the festival.
A moment later, the shuttle took off, and McKenna watched as it rose above the crowd and entered ID space.
He nodded, satisfied. Two obstacles down; one to go. Then, finally, he would be able to kill the bastard.
Liam sighed as he looked around. He been past this set of booths twice before already. The first time round, everything had been interesting, and he had to admit that he had dawdled a bit, wanting to see everything. If he'd realized how many times he'd have to go past the same booths, however, he would have left some things for later.
Hearing a hint of music - drums, being beaten rhythmically - he turned to look toward the centre of the festival. Da'an was over there.
Taking out his global, he opened it - and scowled unhappily as he read the program schedule. The music was obviously for the dancing exhibitions, which was something he had been looking forward to seeing. Last week - before the beginning of Sandoval's ill-fated vacation - he and Da'an had been discussing the agenda for the festival and Da'an, noticing the scheduled dance exhibitions, had begun telling Liam about other such festivals he had attended in the past, and had described some of the dances he'd seen in great detail. He'd been so enthusiastic about it that Liam had gotten curious, and had been anticipating the opportunity to see the dancing for himself.
But instead, here he was, stuck on the periphery of the festival and acting as bait, all because some idiot lieutenant colonel whom he'd never met had decided to kill him. He didn't even know why.
Casting a look at his watch, Liam groaned. It had been almost two hours since they'd arrived; two hours of wandering around and making himself look like a target at carefully selected locations.
Sighing again, he re-adjusted his sling to relieve some of the weight on his shoulder, tugged at his gloves - it was too hot for them, really, but he couldn't afford to take them off - and fiddled with his earpiece for a moment.
"Boring, boring, boring," he mumbled to himself.
"Major?" came Roberts' voice. "Did you say something?"
"Just grumbling to myself," Liam replied. "Have you had any luck yet, Roberts?"
Roberts had the shuttle hovering about a mile away; close enough to use the sensors and act as a communications post, but far enough away that McKenna shouldn't be able to spot it.
"Not a thing, sir," Roberts replied, giving a sigh of his own. "No sign whatsoever of the vaile."
Liam sighed again. He knew that Roberts' sensors were calibrated properly; he'd had the Volunteer use the specifications from the information Augur had given him, rather than what Doors had given Sandoval. "Maybe McKenna isn't here at all," he suggested a moment later.
"I doubt that, sir," Roberts replied. "Not that I know what makes an assassin tick, but it doesn't seem to be reasonable that he'd pass up the chance to get at you, sir. Not when he's already tried it three times so far."
Liam frowned. For some reason, something about that last comment of Roberts' made him uneasy. It was true, of course - McKenna had shot at him in Seattle, then again in Africa, and then tried to run him down in Washington. But they knew that already. So why...
Spotting a hint of movement with his peripheral vision, Liam turned around to see the members of Volunteer Squad 3 drift out of the crowd toward him.
"Anything?" he asked, as Lieutenant Kelly Ericsson, the leader of Squad 3, reached him.
"No, nothing, sir," she replied.
Liam sighed. "Well, we've got two more hours of this to go," he muttered, and then sighed again. "Two more hours of total boredom," he added.
Lieutenant Ericsson grinned in response. "Look at it this way, Major; at least it's half over now. And we could always check out the archery competition," she added, gesturing to a range that had been set up nearby. "That might help pass the time a bit."
Liam glanced over at the range, feeling a touch of curiosity. There hadn't been an archery competition the last time he'd passed this way.
A small group of people - a combination of Native Americans wearing traditional garb for the festival and a number of tourists - were apparently competing for some sort of prize. "You're right, that might be interesting," he said.
McKenna shifted position slightly, keeping his eyes on Kincaid and the Volunteers surrounding him.
He'd been right; it was a trap. A very nice one, subtle - probably Agent Sandoval's doing. Sandoval had always had a very devious mind. However, he had detected and evaded traps like this before - and none of the Volunteers running around had spotted him yet, although he'd spent the past two hours tracking Kincaid.
He smiled, and carefully raised his weapon, aiming it directly at Kincaid's heart. In a minute, maybe two, it would all be over...
Sandoval scowled as he wandered around the perimeter of the festival grounds, eyeing the surrounding hills sourly. McKenna could be hidden literally anywhere - and Sandoval still had that nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important - something vital.
His scowl darkened as he noticed members of Volunteer Squad 7 doing the same thing he was, only they were staying a bit closer in to the crowd, attempting to blend in...
Blend in... That... that's what I've been try-
His train of thought was broken as his earpiece buzzed.
"Yes?" he snapped.
"Sandoval?" came Kinc- the Major's voice.
"Have you found him, Major?" Sandoval demanded.
"No," the Major replied with a sigh. "There's been no sign of him. And Roberts has spent the past two hours scanning the entire grounds, and says there's no sign of any vaile anywhere around here."
Sandoval frowned. "He's sure of that?"
"Yes, he is," came the reply. "And I am too; remember, we gave him the technical information from my contact, not from Doors."
"Right..." Sandoval muttered distractedly. No vaile... that's important for some reas-
Oh, hell...
"Major! Get out of there - now! McKenna's not outside the grounds - he's in the crowd! Run! That's an order!"
"Wha-" the Major started, and then broke off abruptly. A moment later, Sandoval heard what sounded like a cry of pain.
Swearing bitterly, he started to run through the crowd, even as he opened a channel to the shuttle. "Roberts!" he snapped. "McKenna's in the crowd, near Major Kincaid; he's not using the vaile! Get over there now!"
"Yes, sir!" Roberts replied, and a moment later Sandoval heard the sonic boom of a shuttle exiting from ID space right above his head.
"Major! Get out of there - now! McKenna's not outside the grounds - he's in the crowd! Run! That's an order!" Sandoval's voice snapped in his ear.
Liam blinked, confused, as he tried to sort out what Sandoval was saying. McKenna was where? "Wha-" he started; and then froze as he caught a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye.
An image flashed in front of him, gone almost before he had realized it was even there; a tall man, dressed like a tourist, with a crossbow - and a bolt coming straight for him!
Everything suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion. Liam spun around, raising his hands in an instinctive gesture of self-defense, ignoring the agony that lanced through his shoulder. Then he cried out in a combination of surprise and pain as he felt the bolt slice into his arm.
If he hadn't moved, it would have taken him in the heart.
Then time snapped back into its normal course, and Liam was aware of the Volunteers who surrounded him reaching for their guns - but only in a very distant fashion. Most of his attention was fixed on the man who stood at one end of the archery range, a crossbow lying abandoned at his feet and another, already nocked, in his hand.
Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then McKenna gave him a cold, hard smile. 'Traitor,' he mouthed... and his finger tightened on the trigger, releasing the bolt on a path straight for Liam's heart.