Chapter 13
The harsh buzzing jarred Lee awake rudely. Raising his throbbing head, he rolled over and clawed frantically at the alarm clock, trying to still the incessant racket. It struck the far wall with the sound of shattering glass and went blessedly silent. Sunlight shone on the floor in a dazzling wedge and he buried his head in his arms, moaning pathetically. Slowly, memories of the previous night began to filter back to him. The club, Scorpion and the others, the redhead . . . Dragging himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he rested his head in his hands and fought to still his heaving stomach. God, what had he been thinking? And what happened last night? Painfully, he tried to sort through the jumbled memories without success.
With shaking hands, he picked up the phone and ordered large quantities of black coffee from room service. Then he stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped under the deluge. He stood there, his mind blank and his body unmoving, until he heard the pounding on the room door. He stumbled out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and, dripping water the whole way, crossed to answer the door. Waving the waiter into the room, he gestured at the dresser and then staggered to the nearby chair and fumbled in his pants for money. Shoving a fist full of bills into the man's hand, he gestured at him to leave. The man's effusive thanks as he backed out of the door hardly even registered.
A shower, six cups of coffee and four aspirins later, the headache had dulled to an ache that matched the acidic pain in his stomach, but at least he could open his eyes without the incessant throbbing in his head and he no longer felt the constant need to retch. With a sigh, Lee started to think he would live. As he began to dress, he attempted to sort out the dim memories of the night before. He remembered dancing with the redhead until well into the early morning hours. He also remembered more scotch . . . a lot more scotch. But what happened at the end of the night? And how did he get back here? Lee frowned, the effort to remember causing his head to renew its incessant throbbing. Moving slowly, he retrieved the various pieces of his suit, which were scattered throughout the room. There was russet-colored lipstick on the collar of his shirt and the entire suit reeked of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and cloying perfume. He sniffed it again and shuddered. He knew that fragrance. It lingered on everything she had come in contact with, including him.
He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed with his suit jacket still in hand, as the fragrance triggered forgotten memories. There was a cab . . . he was with her in a cab. It had taken them to a building on the edge of the city. Not a house . . . a – an apartment building, he thought. In an old, but elegant part of the city. They had both been rip-roaring drunk. He frowned. What was her name? Rubbing his forehead, he struggled to remember. They had spent some time in the living room. She had certainly been willing enough. Her bedroom was on the second floor . . . he remembered them struggling up the stairs, so drunk they were barely able to stand.
Swearing viciously, he flung the jacket at the garbage can. God, what was her name??? Surely he hadn't sunk so low that he took a woman to bed without even bothering to ask her name? The flutter of paper caught his eye as the suit sank into the trashcan. Stumbling over, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was a calling card . . . Ariana Stephanos . . . and there was a phone number written on the back.
"Ariana," he whispered aloud. Something about that name struck a chord. He was fairly sure that was her name. But did he sleep with her? Slowly, self-loathing filled him as he acknowledged that he had absolutely no idea. It was gone . . . swallowed up in a drunken haze.
When the phone rang a few minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of the bed staring blankly at that wedge of sunlight on the floor. After several rings, he fumbled the receiver off the base and responded dully, "Stetson."
"Scarecrow?"
He didn't respond, just continued to stare numbly at nothing.
"Lee?" the voice said, more urgently. "Lee, are you there?"
Slowly, he stirred. "Here," he replied in a voice that sounded about two octaves too low.
"Scarecrow!" the voice rapped sharply, demanding his attention.
"Billy?" Lee winced at the sound and licked his lips, struggling to bring his mind into focus. "Is that you, Billy?"
"Of course it's me! What the hell are you doing over there? Why haven't you reported in?"
Lee rubbed his face and struggled with that concept. "Report in? Was I supposed to report in?" He looked around for the clock. Spotting the pieces against the wall, he sighed. "Ah, shit. What time is it?"
"Damn it, Scarecrow . . . "
"Billy . . . please don't yell. My head is killing me. Just tell me what time it is."
"It's about 1:15 here."
Sluggishly, Lee factored the time change. "7:15 here, then." He ran his hand through his hair in distraction. "I don't even know what time I got to bed." Then the time registered. "You said 1:15 in the morning?" Cold fear suddenly curled through his gut. "What are you doing there at that hour? And why are you calling me? Has something happened to . . ."
"Calm down. Everything's all right. I'm just tying up the loose ends on an operation. I was starting to get concerned because you hadn't reported in for a couple of days."
"What's to report in about?" Lee snapped sharply, his earlier fear venting in a fit of temper. He pressed his fingers against one temple to try to dull the throbbing in his head once more. "It's a damned training mission. I'm only here because you wanted me out of the way."
There was a long pause before Billy replied carefully, "What are you talking about?"
"You're hunting for a new partner for Amanda and you wanted me gone so you could test her with others."
"Is that really what you think?"
"Hell, yes."
Billy sighed. "Lee, I sent you on this assignment because no one I have knows counter terrorism better than you do. And every agency in the free world knows it. This was important. We need the good will of the foreign agencies if we're going to win the war against terrorists. What better way to generate it than to send the very best I have? It only makes sense. You understand politics like this."
Hunched over, Lee rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know," he replied reluctantly.
"As for searching for a new partner for Amanda, what ever made you think I was even considering that idea? Yes, I have her working with other agents right now, but you know she needs that experience. Furthermore, it's not like I could have sent her with you to Rome. She's not a full agent and being a part time civilian aide gives her the right to have other priorities."
Lee sighed again, "Her family. Yeah, I know that, too."
"Yes, I did think the two of you needed a break from each other for a while, but that's all it was. Lee, as a team, you are magic. I've rarely seen any pair of agents work together as well as you and Amanda King do. I'm not about to permanently break up something that works so well."
Lee closed his eyes, sagging slightly in relief. "Thank you, God," he breathed softly to himself.
"So tell me what's really going on. What's wrong?"
Lee stared blindly at the sunshine for a long time. His voice was low and hoarse when he finally replied, "I – I want to come home, Billy."
"Say that again," his section chief commanded, clearly startled.
"I want to come home. Please."
"Lee, has something happened?" Billy demanded, sounding seriously shaken. "The mission . . ."
"Is fine," Lee replied wearily, cutting him off. "We finished the last of the training scenarios yesterday. There are still two lectures to give, and the last of the materials still need to be translated and reviewed, but that's it."
"You're way ahead of schedule then."
"Yes. I've pushed, trying to get it finished."
"Then you're done," Billy said flatly. "They can manage what's left on their own. Get cleaned up and into the Italian Agency. By the time you get there, your immediate recall orders will be in their hands along with flight information back to D.C. You'll be back here by early evening."
"Thank you," Lee whispered, sinking slowly back until he lay flat on the bed. After a long moment, he asked, "How is she?"
Billy didn't need to ask who Lee was referring to. "She's been doing a good job." Lee could hear the smile in his voice as he added, "Not inspired, maybe, but holding her own quite credibly." Lee wondered if Billy knew it was what he needed to hear.
"She's good."
"Yes, she is. But the two of you together are better. Come home, Lee."
"Yes," he sighed. "As fast as I can get there."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Billy carefully placed the telephone receiver back into the cradle and leaned back in his chair feeling seriously shaken. In all the years he had known Lee Stetson, he had never heard the man sound like that. He didn't know what was wrong, but if Scarecrow was asking to come home . . . and in that tone . . . Burn out, a soft voice whispered in the back of his mind. Billy shook his head in denial. No, not Scarecrow. The man lived for this life. It was in his blood, and always had been. For God's sake, Lee was born to it! he thought desperately. Both of his parents had worked in covert operations. But Billy knew that even the best operative could burn out. He'd seen it time and time again. Push them too far and it was all over.
Have I pushed him too hard? Billy wondered. He'd been on edge recently. Everyone had noticed it. He was jumpy, his temper was incredibly short, and he was barking at everyone. There'd also been a couple of times when Billy had gone looking for him in the evening, but he was nowhere to be found. He hadn't thought anything about it at the time, but now he began to wonder.
The sudden sound of applause and catcalls interrupted his reverie and he got up to see what was going on. Opening the door, he couldn't help but grin. Amanda and Leatherneck had just entered the bullpen and Amanda was receiving the enthusiastic congratulations of everyone present. In the background, Leatherneck just stood grinning and let her take the credit. As usual, she seemed embarrassed by all the attention and was stuttering and stammering her thank yous to all the well-wishers. He also noted that the catcalls he'd heard were definitely deserved. The woman really was stunning. The midnight blue of her gown was the perfect color for her and her slightly disheveled appearance only served to emphasize her delicate beauty. Not to mention, triggering every male protective gene in this place, he thought ruefully as he watched her working her way through the crowd toward him. Judging by the bemused expression on his face, even Leatherneck, the resident cynic, wasn't immune.
"Fine job, Amanda!" he said by way of greeting when she finally made it through the crowd to his office. He grinned at her. "I knew you could do it."
"Thank you, sir! I really appreciate that. We brought Abernathy in. He's down in holding."
"I know. Francine called in to update me. I stayed until you arrived because I wanted you to hear directly from me what a good job you did."
He saw her hesitate for an instant and then she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I wonder if I could talk to you about that, Mr. Melrose. I know it's late, but I'd really appreciate it if you could give me a few minutes."
Now what? Billy thought in resignation. "Certainly. Come on in." She followed him into the office and quietly closed the door behind them. Billy waved her to a chair as he sat down, but instead of sitting, she planted herself in front of his desk. Clenching her hands into tight fists in front of her, she took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eyes.
"You know, sir, that I've always done everything I could for this agency. I've taken every assignment you've given me and I don't think I've ever complained."
"No, of course not . . ."
"And I think I've tried very hard to learn everything I can to get better at this job . . ."
"Yes, I -"
"Even when you haven't seemed very willing to help me. I mean, I don't know how many times I've asked a question because I really wanted to know because nobody's ever bothered to tell me and then I feel like you think I'm really stupid for asking."
"I'm sorry, Amanda . . ."
"But I don't know and I've never had any training. And I understand that there are some people who've worked their whole life to be here . . ." The color had risen in her face and her eyes flashed as she warmed to the subject. "I understand that it's just the way Francine is, but I can't tell you how tired I get of her comments. She's got no idea what it takes to raise children or run a household. And trying to keep everybody in the dark about my job and the strange hours I have to -"
"Amanda . . ."
"keep just really makes it hard sometimes. And I don't want you to think I'm complaining, because I'm really not. I like my job and I wouldn't want to do anything else, even when it gets dangerous and all . . ."
"Amanda . . ."
"But I really think that I've proven that I can be of use, so why is it that I have to fight so hard to be included?" And with that she finally seemed to run out of words. She took a few hesitant steps and dropped into the chair as though suddenly exhausted. There was the sound of tears in her voice as she asked plaintively, "Why does everybody always try to make me wait in the car?"
The silence stretched for a long moment as Billy regarded the woman in sympathy. It really hadn't dawned on him until the last few days just how difficult it had been for this woman to make a place for herself at the Agency. He had a tremendous amount of respect for Amanda King already, and with that rambling speech, it rose several more notches. Knowing her as he now did, he could only imagine how much it had cost her to come into this office and say what she had. And for everything that she had accomplished, he owed her honesty. Leaning forward, he folded his hands on his desk and looked at her seriously.
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
She blinked in surprise. "Sir?"
"We all owe you a profound apology, Amanda. Until tonight, I don't think I really realized how pervasive our habit of trying to protect you had become. You are one of the most gracious, caring, gentle people any of us have had the privilege to work with. You've seen what this work is like. Even though we've tried to protect you, you've met some of the worst people this business has to offer."
"I've never asked you to protect me, Mr. Melrose," Amanda objected.
"I know you haven't. The response is instinctive in all of us. You've become a friend to almost everybody here and we all react badly when you get in trouble." Billy shook his head ruefully. "I chose to pair you with Windsor to get you out of Lee's protective influence for a while and look at what happened. He did it to you, too, didn't he?" Amanda nodded silently. "I thought so. And I was no better. My only excuse is that I didn't even realize I was doing it. I know it's hard, but can you forgive us and be patient? We'll try to do better."
Her eyes were very bright as she regarded her section chief. Slowly, she nodded again.
"You will get the training you've been asking for, Amanda. I promise. And one way or the other, I'm going to have you as a full time operative. You're an asset to the Agency and I'm not going to lose you."
Amanda cleared her throat and whispered, "Thank you, sir." Then she rose and said, "It's very late and I should let you go home. I'm sorry for having kept you."
"It's all right, Amanda. I'll want you back in here at 9:00 tomorrow morning for team debriefing and then I'm going to give all of you a couple of days off. But there is one other piece of news I thought you might like to know."
"Yes, sir?"
"Scarecrow is on his way home." He watched as her face broke into a radiant smile. He held up his hand, trying to quell her obvious excitement. "I don't know exactly when he'll arrive, but it should be by the end of the day tomorrow." He glanced at his watch and then shook his head, correcting himself. "Today, rather. I'm going to give him a couple of days to recover; he sounded exhausted when I talked with him a little while ago. I'll tell him to report back in to work on Wednesday. Why don't you plan to be here at 8:00 that morning, too."
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir! I'll be here."
"Good. Now go home and get some rest, and I'll see you tomorrow morning at nine."
"I'll be here. Thank you, sir."
He smiled at her again. "Good night, Amanda."
"Good night, sir."
