The sound of the bathroom door opening brought Jessie to the head of the hallway. She smiled and gave Kefira a thumbs-up as she saw her hesitate. Kefira nodded slightly, then hitched up the towel, opened the door and disappeared inside. As she turned away, Jessie's smile was slightly nostalgic. Kefira had looked scared, but determined, as she disappeared through that doorway . . . a feeling Jessie remembered only too well. Silently wishing Kefira good luck, she turned and surveyed the apartment. Both she and Jonny and been very busy during the past week and things were looking a bit cluttered. Automatically, she began picking up as she reviewed the things that she needed to do.
She would need to do some shopping. Aside from needing supplies for their trip, there wasn't much in the house to eat. Also, Hadji needed clothes. She hadn't been lying when she told him that Jonny simply wouldn't have anything that would fit him. Over the last two years or so, the two of them had hit that final growth spurt, and both had changed dramatically. Jonny was only about an inch or two taller than Hadji, but where Jonny had filled out, ending up very broad through the shoulders, Hadji had retained that lean, whip-like musculature that was often common in the taller members of his people. Kefira and Jessie, on the other hand, were very much the same size and had been sharing clothing since the day they first met.
There was also another stop she needed to make . . . to a place even Jonny knew nothing about. Her face became grim as she considered that trip. She had no illusions about the dangers that faced the two young men on their trip to Hadji's homeland. Her parents had often said that she had a built-in radar for trouble and they were right. The truth was, this entire situation stunk . . . it had set-up written all over it. But no matter how obvious the trap, Jessie understood that Hadji had no choice but to walk into it, just as she understood that Jonny would never let him enter it alone. Neither would she, if there was any other choice in the matter. But if there was anything her father had taught her, it was that all members of a team are essential, no matter what role they are tagged to play. Her role in this one . . . at least for right now . . . was to guard their flank . . . but she wasn't about to let them walk in there unprepared.
Several years before, when Jessie had reached an age where Race realized that the day might come when she would be forced to stand alone in a firefight, he had taken her on a trip to New York. It was a trip that none of the others, including her mother, ever knew about. And there, Race Bannon had introduced his only daughter to the select few men he ever really trusted in the intelligence game. These people, he told her, were those she could rely on for help if things got really bad. With one exception, they weren't agents . . . rather, they were suppliers . . . of weapons . . . of information . . . of clandestine documents . . . of escape routes. These people owed Race Bannon debts that ran deep enough that loyalties were transferable to his daughter if the need arose. Well, the need was here.
She contemplated logistics for a moment. The man she needed to see no longer lived in New York. Rather, he now lived outside Boston on the north side. She glanced at the clock . . . 10:15 . . . too early to be going to see him yet. She figured the earliest she could land there was after lunch. That gave her some time to get laundry finished up and make a list of the other things she was going to need. Jonny wasn't going to like it, but she was also going to tap another source that was at their disposal. They had to have money . . . both pocket money and to pay for equipment and supplies that they were going to need to take with them. It was money she and Jonny really didn't have right now. But there was a way for her to lay her hands on the needed funds. Again, her father's foresight demonstrated why he had been such a good covert agent in his day. Years before, Race had established an account that held a large sum of money that could be accessed in emergencies. None of them had ever touched it, but today she would, and she sent grateful thoughts northward toward her father in Maine for having made it possible. It would guarantee that she could get the things she needed and that Jonny and Hadji would have money to buy themselves out of trouble, if necessary.
Having cleared a corner of the living room, she picked up the few things that Hadji had managed to bring with him and set them on the love seat. Included was a polished wooden box about twelve inches square by two inches deep. She looked at it curiously, wondering what was inside. Kefira had told her that he had been extremely insistent about the need to retrieve it before they left. She wasn't sure where he had kept it stored . . . obviously not in his apartment, since they both said they hadn't been able to return there . . . but whatever was inside, was apparently important enough for Hadji to risk capture to recover it.
Laundry first, she thought. That would give her the opportunity to assess what they had and then she would know what she needed to buy. She turned from the living room and headed down the hall toward the bedroom to begin gathering up dirty clothes. She had picked up towels and dirty clothes in the bathroom, returned them to the living room and was just getting ready to enter her bedroom when suddenly, well-known sounds from the other room caused her to pause. She stood, listening briefly as a wide grin formed on her face. She pumped her arm sharply and whispered softly, "YES!" before she opened the door to her bedroom and disappeared inside. As she closed the door, she couldn't help but notice that the sounds weren't much muted by the closed doors and the hallway between the two rooms.
Moving as quietly as she could, she began to gather up the laundry that was scattered throughout the room. Even though she tried to make no noise, the movement in the room caused Jonny to stir.
"Jess?" he mumbled blearily. "Wha' time ish it?"
"Hush," she whispered. She sat down beside him on the bed and stroked his hair gently. "You've only been in bed about an hour. You have lots of time yet. Go back to sleep."
He rolled over and curled up around her leg. "Ummm, thas good." Snuggling up to her, he murmured, "Why don' you come to bed? You've got time, don' you?"
"If I come to bed, you won't sleep."
He smiled without opening his eyes. "Yes, I will," he replied. "Eventually." Suddenly, he frowned and rolled his head to one side, opening his eyes. "What's that noise?"
The grin Jessie gave him was decidedly wicked. "What does it sound like?"
"It sounds like . . ." He trailed off and his eyes widened suddenly as the distinctive sounds finally connected, "That isn't . . . they can't . . . "
Jessie giggled suddenly. "They can and from what I can hear, they most certainly are!"
Jonny flopped over onto his back, in shock. "Oh my god." Suddenly he grabbed Jessie's pillow and pulled it over his face. "I don't want to hear that! He's my brother . . ."
Jessie snatched it off of his head and grinned down at him. "Oh, c'mon, Jonny. Give him a break. After all, he covered for us enough times!"
He sighed. "True." Suddenly, he eyed her suspiciously. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?" Jessie just grinned at him impudently. "You did! That whispered conversation you had with Kefira in Blackman's bedroom . . . the way you hustled me off to bed . . ." She just sat, smiling at him slyly as he continued his train of thought. "Hadji would never have . . . Kefira! She asked you to help her, didn't she?"
Jessie held up one hand. "I plead the fifth on the grounds that what I say may be used against me," she intoned solemnly, though her eyes twinkled with merriment.
Jonny just shook his head and grinned up at her in delight. "Why you little matchmaker . . . c'mere!" He reached up and tumbled her over into bed, rolling with her until she was pinned under him. Leaning down, he captured her mouth with his own as he began fumbling at her clothing.
As their ardor increased, Jessie wondered fleetingly what Mrs. Taylor must be thinking just then.
It was about two hours later when Jessie stirred once again. Moving carefully, she slid out of Jonny's loosened grasp and eased out of bed. This time, her movements didn't even make him stir. She stood looking down at him silently. His sleep was deep and dreamless, and a small smile touched the corners of his mouth. Please God, she begged silently, don't let anyone take him away from me. I don't think I could bear it. It took all the strength she could muster to turn away from him and return to the tasks she had set for herself.
She carried the laundry out into the living room and began sorting it. As she did so, she happened to look up and see the flashing light on the answering machine. Suddenly, she remembered Jonny's question about whether she'd checked messages and figured maybe she'd better do that while she had the chance. Walking over, she hit the play button, noting idly that the machine showed three messages. Then she went back to sorting the laundry. After a minute, she looked up with a frown, wondering what had happened to the answering machine. It was taking too long to kick into playback. But just as she was about ready to go over and check it, the tape started to play.
"Jonny, this is your dad. Are you there? . . . . . If you are, please pick up. . . . . . I guess you aren't. Well, it's about 8:30 on Wednesday morning. When you get in, would you call home? Okay, I'll talk to you soon. Bye."
Jessie shook her head. Eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning and he's calling, expecting to find his son at home. On a workday. She thought with amusement that there was some truth to the old adage about scientists in their ivory towers.
"Jonny? It's your dad again. Are you home now? I never heard back from you. Well, all right. It's now Wednesday evening at about 7:00. Call me when you get in, would you? It doesn't matter how late. I have something I want to discuss with you. Call me, please."
Jessie tossed a pair of jeans into a pile with a little more force than she intended. Dr. Quest never asked for her when he left those messages on their machine. Or asked how she was . . . or how school was going. He hadn't since the day they walked out the door of the Compound for the last time, regardless of his final parting words to her. She had tried every way she knew how to reach out to him, but apparently he just didn't want anything to do with her.
"Jonny, are you there? It's . . ."
"Hello?"
"Jonny?"
"Dad? Is something wrong?"
Jessie froze, listening to the tape. Jonny had been slow to answer the phone, and before he'd gotten to it, the machine had picked up. Unless he turned it off, it would run until the phone was hung up again or until the tape ran out. Obviously, it had recorded the entire conversation. Feeling a little like an eavesdropper, she finished tossing the handful of clothing she held into various piles and then started to pick her way across the room to turn off the machine. But suddenly, part of the conversation stopped her.
" . . . talk with your employer and get them to agree to let you work part time, I could talk to President Vest and see about getting you admitted to M.I.T. for spring term. You could probably work about 10 hours a week as long as you only carried about 14 hours. That seems fair, doesn't it?"
"Ten hours a week?"
Well, that's a new tact, Jessie mused. At least he'd gotten away from harping at him to quit entirely. One step toward compromise . . . finally. Maybe things were starting to improve.
". . . cut back like that! I barely manage to get everything done at work now. Furthermore, if I drop back from full time, we won't have the money to pay the rent, plus I lose all of my benefits, which means Jess and I don't have insurance or anything like that!"
"Jonny, if you'll do this, I'll pay your tuition and your rent. You won't need the money or the benefits, so it won't matter."
Listen to him, Jonny, Jessie found herself urging him. He's trying. Don't shut him out!
"Won't matter? Of course it will matter! What do you think I'm doing, playing an oversized game of House with Jess? These people pay me to do a job . . . a job that needs to be done. They rely on me . . ."
"Jonny, you're 18 years old. Do you honestly believe that they would turn that kind of responsibility over to someone so young without having some sort of a fallback plan? It's nice of them to give you a job, but . . ."
Jessie froze. Had she just heard him right? Did he really just imply that Jonny wasn't capable of doing this job? Had he actually said that to his son?
" . . . Do you honestly believe they would have even looked at you if it hadn't been for me? Whether you want to admit it or not, you have that job because you're my son, and . . ."
For a long moment, the rage that filled Jessie drowned out everything. She had tried to be fair . . . tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. But to have said THAT to Jonny, when he was working so hard . . . The loud click of the answering machine shutting off brought her back to reality. She would not stand by and allow Benton Quest to undermine his son's confidence and sense of self-worth. Her hands shook with the force of her fury as she dialed the phone, and it took two tries to get the number right. Once she finally did, all she got was a busy signal. She disconnected and tried again. The same. Turning away from the phone, she sat down at the desk and called up the vid-phone software on her computer. A few quick keystrokes and the system reached out across the lines to connect with IRIS. One way or the other, she was going to give Benton Quest a piece of her mind . . .
