Chapter Forty-two


The family room in the Quest mansion was dark. Only the fire, flickering in the huge fireplace, cast any light into the large room. Barbara Mason sat in the enshrouding darkness staring at the flames and trying not to think. It had been a horrific day. Two emergencies in Rockport had forced her to leave the Compound to attend to other patients. Neither had been pleasant and by the end of the day, she had been exhausted and utterly depressed. A soft tapping caused her to look up.

"I'm sorry to disturb you . . ." Garrett Blackman said quietly, advancing into the room.

"It's all right," Barbara replied, waving him in. "Have a seat. I could probably do with some company." She rose and crossed to the fireplace, where she stirred the dying embers and tossed a couple more logs onto the grate. Then she returned to her chair.

"Bad day?" Garrett asked sympathetically.

"Not good," she agreed wearily, scrubbing at her eyes and trying to ease the throbbing in her head.

"Tell me about it," he encouraged her. When she looked at him in surprise, he smiled slightly. "Go on. It might make you feel better."

Barbara sighed and leaned her head back against the chair. "It's just one thing after another right now. I had a patient this morning . . . from all indications, a healthy, happy 34-year-old man who had it all. Good job, promising future, nice house, wife, two beautiful children . . ."

"And?" Garrett prompted when she faltered.

She rubbed her head again. "And he died of a massive coronary at 9:30 this morning. No warning at all. He just dropped. His wife kept saying to me, 'But how could this happen? He played basketball with his friends last night. He was fine.' Over and over. I had no answers for her. I don't know how it happened . . . or why. Just, one minute he was fine and the next he was dead. How did it happen? Did I miss something? Were there warning signs I didn't see? I don't understand. And then tonight . . . "

"What happened?"

Barbara slumped even further into the chair as though the weight of the world were pressing down on her shoulders "A stupid, senseless accident. The local kids tend to 'make their own fun' because all of the attractions are overrun by tourists. Lately, they've taken to drag racing on a stretch of road leading to the Ragged and Bald Mountain hiking areas. The speeds were high, the road was littered with damp leaves and . . ." She closed her eyes and swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "One died at the scene, two more after they reached the hospital, three are so badly injured they may never be right again, and the only child of the Camden mayor is paralyzed from the neck down as the result of a crushed spinal cord. He'll live, but . . ." The image of that boy as he was wheeled into the ER at Penobscot Medical Center would be engraved into her memory until the day she died.

"I'm sorry," Garrett said gently.

Barbara gestured vaguely, and after a long moment she rolled her head and looked at Blackman. "When it rains, it pours," she said dispiritedly. "As if Benton and Estella weren't enough . . ."

"How is Estella?"

"She's stable but borderline. I talked with Dr. Eftekari a little while ago. They should take the baby. Her body won't be able to tolerate the toxemia much longer. But Race is right, too. The risk to the unborn child is extremely high. Not to mention that Estella's body recognizes that the child hasn't gestated long enough and it's not ready to have the pregnancy over. There's a very real possibility we could lose both of them. Dr. Eftekari is going to hold off as long as he can, but I don't know how long that will be. Race is practically beside himself."

"I can imagine. And Dr. Quest?"

Barbara closed her eyes again and turned her head away so Garrett couldn't see her face, but the pain in her voice was clear. "Getting worse by the hour. His memory retention for new information is no more than a few hours. He still remembers his family . . . and me . . . but many of the townspeople that he hasn't been as closely associated with are gone now. The past, prior to the incident that caused this, is also beginning to disappear. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to what he remembers and what he doesn't. E-Earlier today he a-asked me . . ." The memory of that question suddenly swamped her and her voice cracked on a sudden, uncontrollable sob.

Garrett leaned forward and laid a gentle hand on her forearm in concern. "Barbara?"

She refused to look at him, struggling desperately to control her ragged breathing and the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. Finally, she murmured, "No . . . no, I-I'm all right. Please . . . just give me . . . a m-minute." The silence between them grew until finally she turned her head and looked at the man again. "You see, it's just so . . . hard . . . to see him this way. You never had the chance to know him . . . the way he was . . . before all of this happened. He was an incredible man . . . warm and giving. He adored his sons, was concerned about everyone around him, and worked hard to make the world a better place. And had an incredible wit and sense of humor. Do you know how rare that is in a man as intelligent as Benton Quest? He had no delusions of grandeur. And all of his money? He never flaunted it to anyone. Yes, he set up grants and trusts that the community benefited from, but he never made a big deal about it. There was no project in this town he hadn't donated to. Many of them, he funded totally. But more often than not, the donations were totally anonymous . . . he didn't want to be recognized for doing it. It was enough that he could help others. To see him like this now . . . and to know there's nothing I can do to stop it . . ." She pressed her hand to her head as though it ached and closed her eyes once more. "It's just not fair," she whispered.

"You mustn't give up hope," Garrett urged her. "Keep trying . . ."

"Trying what?" she questioned wearily. "There's nothing left to try. Jonny and Hadji are the only hope left, and even if they were to arrive back home this instant, with the rate the damage is advancing, they wouldn't have enough time to stop it before it completes the cycle. It's just a matter of time now."

"What if . . ."

"WARNING. LONG DISTANCE PERIMETER SENSORS HAVE DETECTED AN AIRCRAFT APPROACHING FROM THE EASTSOUTHEAST AT A HIGH RATE OF SPEED."

Above them, the sudden sound of footsteps could be heard and an instant later, Race appeared on the stairs. "Identification, IRIS?"

"NONE AS YET, ALTHOUGH AIRCRAFT CONFIGURATION MATCHES THAT OF THE QUEST JET BASED OUT OF NEW YORK."

"Challenge it," Race snapped. "I want to know who's on that plane."

"ACKNOWLEDGED." Barbara and Garrett met Race in the entryway, a look of tense excitement on their faces.

"Jonny and Hadji . . . ?" Barbara breathed, hope rekindling in her eyes.

"Maybe . . ." Race replied cautiously.

"AIRCRAFT HAS CONFIRMED DESTINATION AND HAS REQUESTED CLEARANCE TO LAND. IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT ALL RESPONSES HAVE BEEN AUTOMATED. NO CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE WITH THE PILOT."

"Is it coming in on autopilot then?" Race demanded, his face turning grim. Behind him, Stan Knight appeared in the doorway.

"NEGATIVE. IT IS UNDER MANUAL CONTROL."

"All defenses to full! Weapon systems on line . . ."

Garrett reached out and grabbed Race's arm frantically, "Wait! Jessica said she was sending . . ."

Race snatched his arm away and glared at the other man savagely. "I am not going to shoot it down. But I'm also taking no chances. IRIS, have you confirmed that it's one of ours?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Engage system override. Lock out the pilot and bring her in yourself. I also want you to secure all doors until I give the authorization to release them. And access the internal sensors. I want to know who's on that plane." Then he spun and disappeared in the direction of the library. Stan moved swiftly to get out of his way.

Garrett looked at Barbara in concern. "Are you sure he's not . . ."

"IRIS," Barbara said quietly, "access stored bioscans of Quest family members and compare to the sensor readings you're receiving. Are any Quest family members on that plane?"

"NEGATIVE."

"What can you tell me about the passengers?"

"SENSORS INDICATE THREE INDIVIDUALS. ONE IS MALE JUDGING BY OVERALL SIZE AND BODY MASS. HEARTRATE CONFIRMS THIS TO A PROBABILITY OF 97.378. SIZE, BODY MASS, AND VITAL SIGNS INDICATE THE REMAINING TWO PASSENGERS ARE MOST LIKELY JUVENILES, POSSIBLY ONE MALE AND ONE FEMALE, HOWEVER THERE IS A MUCH LOWER DEGREE OF CERTAINTY ON THIS. VITAL SIGNS FURTHER INDICATE THAT BOTH ARE UNDER CONSIDERABLE STRESS. HEARTRATE AND RESPIRATION ARE ELEVATED . . ."

"Scared to death," Barbara murmured. She turned as Race reappeared carrying a rifle. She caught his arm firmly causing him to check his pace. "You don't need that. That's the plane Jessie took to India. IRIS has confirmed it. Jessie told us she was sending Kefira's brother and sister back here and you know she would never send them with anyone she didn't trust. Those children have to be terrified . . . their parents murdered, their only living relative off in a war zone, and facing the prospect of greeting total strangers. You meet them with a gun and it will only make things worse."

Race wavered, looking indecisive. "But what if . . ."

"IRIS can handle anything that might happen if it's a trap," she assured him. "And you can hang back until you see who's with them. I'm guessing that whoever the man is, he'll be the first one out and that you'll know him on sight. Furthermore, Jessie would never send them here with someone who wasn't prepared to defend them."

Race stared at her for a long moment and then his shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes wearily. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking . . ."

"You weren't," she replied with a gentle smile. "You were reacting. Race, you're exhausted and wound up so tight you're jumping at shadows. Leave the defense to IRIS and let's make sure those children know that they're welcome here."

"THE AIRCRAFT HAS JUST LANDED."

"Bring it around to the hangar, IRIS, and hold it until we get there." Race turned to Blackman and Knight. "You two wait here. You don't have clearance for the grounds."

Both men nodded silently and watched as Race and Barbara left hastily. Once the door closed behind them, Stan exhaled sharply. "That woman's got more guts than I do! Lordy, I don't think I'd want that man upset at me."

A smile quirked the corner of Garrett's mouth. "Now we know where Jon got his self-sufficiency and tendency for decisive action. Come on, I'll bet all three of the new arrivals will be ready for something to eat. We can at least try to make ourselves useful."



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Race left the house at a jog, quickly crossing the wide expanse of lawn that separated the house and the landing strip. Barbara had a difficult time keeping up with him. As she ran after him, she watched him closely. The distant lights from the hangar reflected off of the sharp planes of his face, making him look distant and forbidding. A vision of Estella looking lost and bewildered suddenly rose before Barbara's mind's eye and her voice seemed to echo softly. I mean, I used to know him. Even with all the secrets he kept, I think I knew him. Barbara wondered suddenly who this man really was . . . what were the secrets he kept so carefully hidden? One thing was certain, the man who strode beside her now wasn't the one she'd known for the last ten years. Breathlessly, she asked, "Race, are you all right? That business back there . . ."

For an instant, the look he turned on her was that of a stranger. Then he seemed to shake himself and he attempted to smile. "Sorry. I'm not accustomed to being helpless." Then he stopped abruptly, just outside of the ring of light that bathed the now-stationary aircraft. "Wait . . . " he said to her softly. Then, he lifted his watch to his lips and said, "All right, IRIS. On my mark, release the latches and open the main hatch. And if there is any sign of a weapon from whoever comes to that door, I want you to drop them cold. Clear?"

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Okay, let's see who we've got. Do it, IRIS."

Through the clear night air, they both heard the sharp, metallic sound of the locking mechanism as it cycled, followed by a soft sigh of escaping air. The hatch door swung open and the folding stairway settled to the ground. For a moment, nothing moved and Barbara could feel Race twitch slightly beside her. Then, a single figure appeared in the doorway. Arms spread from his sides, his hands palms up and empty, the man paused at the top of the staircase and squinted into the glaring lights trained on the plane.

"Paul!" The name seemed to explode from Race. Then he was moving again, running toward the plane at top speed. "PAUL!" he called loudly. As Barbara chased after him, she saw the man turn and say something to those people still in the plane and then descend the stairs quickly. The two men met a few steps away from the base of the stairs. Race's hand caught at the other man's shoulder. "Jessie. Where is she? What's going on?"

Barbara arrived just in time to see the two children step hesitantly into view at the hatchway door. They held each other tightly and both looked petrified. "Race!" she said and tugged at his arm urgently. He looked down at her and then followed her gaze and caught sight of the new arrivals. Paul opened his mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, Race took a step forward and addressed the girl quietly.

"Maia?"

The girl looked at him for a moment and then down at her brother. Saying something softly to him, she pushed him behind her gently and then stepped forward to the edge of the stairs. "You are . . . Jessie's father?"

"Yes," he agreed, coming to the foot of the stairs.

"My sister sent us to you, sir. She said that she wished us away from Bangalore . . . to a place that she knew was safe."

"You and your brother are welcome here, Maia."

She seemed to hesitate, then reached around and drew the little boy forward. He pressed against her side, his eyes huge and frightened. The two of them clung to each other at the head of the stairs, not moving. Behind Race, Paul started to move forward, but Barbara stopped him.

"This is my brother . . ."

"Srinivasan," Race finished for her quietly. "I know. Your father spoke of all of you often."

That seemed to shake her. "You knew our father?"

"Yes. We met while he was here with your sister. We had the chance to talk frequently and we became friends."

"Our father is dead."

She said it simply and with such finality that it caused Race's throat to tighten. Shellshocked, he thought silently. They're so young and they've seen too much . . .

Carefully, he reached out a hand to her. "Will the two of you come down? It's cold out here and it will be better in the house." Still she hesitated and Race tried desperately to think of something that would reassure her enough to get her out of that cold, windswept doorway and where it was warm. Abruptly, inspiration struck. Smoothly, he added, "Until your own rooms are ready, I thought that you could stay in Kefira's room . . ."

The boy's head snapped around and he stared at Race intently. Maia swallowed convulsively. "K-Kefira has a room here?" she asked shakily.

Race nodded. "Yes. She knows that this is her home in this country, just as it's Hadji's."

Srinivasan looked up at his sister in wordless appeal. Maia looked from her little brother back to Race. "Can we do that?"

"Of course," he replied readily, searching his mind frantically in an effort to remember what was in the room that Kefira had used. He prayed she had left things behind that would be familiar to these two terrified children. He climbed the stairs carefully until his face was on a level with theirs and then reached out a hand to them again. "I'll take you." For an instant longer, they hesitated, searching his face. What they saw, Race didn't know, but finally the boy released his death-grip on his sister and reached out to him hesitantly. Race lifted him easily into his arms and Srinivasan wrapped his arms around Race's neck and buried his face into his shoulder. Holding the boy tightly in one arm, he took Maia's hand in his free one and led her down the stairs. Reaching the ground, he turned for the house without pausing.

Paul stared after them in amazement. "How did he do that?" he demanded of Barbara. "They wouldn't say a single word to me the entire trip and all but hid from me."

"Race is good with children," Barbara replied easily and then glanced up at the plane. Raising her voice, she called, "IRIS, can you hear me?"

"AFFIRMATIVE," a disembodied voice replied faintly through the night air. Paul jumped and looked around a bit wildly.

"Seal the plane and leave it where it's sitting for now. Then kill the hangar lights and return to standby security status."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. STATUS OF NEW ARRIVALS?"

Barbara contemplated Paul for a moment and then replied, "Full family status for the two children. The gentleman called Paul may have restricted visitor status similar to that of Mr. Knight and Mr. Blackman with no access to Dr. Quest's study."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. I WILL MAINTAIN LIGHTS UNTIL YOU HAVE RETURNED TO THE HOUSE."

"Thank you, IRIS." Barbara looked at Paul and gestured toward the big house in the distance. "After you, sir."

"Who the hell are you?" Paul demanded, watching her warily as he turned and hurried after the distant figure who was now nearing the front courtyard.

"I suggest we allow Race to ask the questions."

"I'm getting so sick of being in the dark all of the time," Paul replied sourly, slowing slightly and looking around with interest.

"I'd suggest you don't dawdle," Barbara said without so much as a backward glance. "You won't like the results if you end up out here by yourself." Then she broke into a trot.

With a muttered oath, he set off after her and managed to cross the threshold into the house a step behind her. He stopped short just inside the door, frozen by the tableau that confronted him. Maia stood still as a stone in the very center of a huge entryway. She, along with all the others, was gazing upward at a man who stood two-thirds of the way down the sweeping staircase. Paul recognized him . . . but the recognition was tempered with shock. That Benton Quest was ill was immediately obvious. There was a gauntness about him that spoke of lost weight and insufficient rest. His face had a skull-like appearance and his eyes were sunken. A feverish light burned in his eyes and the knuckles on his hand were white as his fingers clutched the railing like claws.

"Who are you?" he rasped at the child. "I don't know you!"

Maia seemed unable to say a word. Srinivasan whimpered as Race set him on the floor and stepped forward, one hand making calming gestures. "It's all right, Benton . . ."

Benton Quest's eyes focused on his old friend and for an instant there was no sign of recognition at all. Then something flickered and slowly the panicked anger drained away to be replaced with confusion. He looked around blankly and then his gaze returned to Race. "W-Where are we? Race, what is this place?" His eyes roamed the room again. "And these people? I-I don't understand. Where's Jonny? And Rachel?" Then he stopped and suddenly put a hand to his head. "No - no, that's not right. Rachel can't be here. R-Rachel's dead . . . isn't she? I-I seem to remember that. And Hadji . . . I remember Hadji . . . but . . ."

All of them seemed frozen, watching the brilliant man crumbling before their eyes. Incredibly, it was Maia who responded. Crossing the floor to the foot of the stairs, she gazed up at the older man with a calmness and maturity that astonished the others. "Hadji is not here, sir. I am told that he and his brother are forced to be away at this time. But he is a very good friend of my sister and they have asked that I come here to stay with you until you are feeling better."

Benton stood motionless, staring blankly at the child as she slowly climbed the stairs toward him. "He - he did?" he finally managed.

"Yes, sir," she replied, stopping on the step immediately below his. "You see, my parents were . . ." here, she seemed to stumble a little and swallowed hard. Finally, she took a deep breath and continued. "My parents were killed, sir, leaving my little brother and me with nowhere to go. My sister sent us here because she said that Hadji would want us to be safe until other arrangements could be made. She also said that you have not been well and asked that I assist in any way that I can. Will that be all right with you, sir?"

Benton gazed at the girl for a long time and then, slowly, he lifted one hand and brushed the top of her head gently. "What's your name?"

"Maia."

Suddenly, a light kindled in his eyes and the confusion seemed to disappear. "It's nice to meet you, Maia." He seemed to struggle for a minute and then he said slowly, "Your sister is . . . Kefira . . . isn't she? Hadji's fiancée."

Maia hesitated for a split second and then nodded, "Yes, sir."

Benton nodded and then his glance flicked to where Race stood. "And that is your brother?"

She nodded. "His name is Srinivasan, but we all call him 'Vassey'."

Benton smiled at the boy who stood clinging to Race's leg and then looked back down at the girl in front of him again. "You are more than welcome here, Maia . . . both you and your brother." He took a deep breath. "Your sister was right. I'm not well just now and my memory isn't very good." And in that split second, the light in his eyes died once more. He looked around and said tentatively, "T-this is my home . . . I think . . ."

"Yes, sir, it is," she agreed gravely when he hesitated.

He looked at her and smiled again. "You are always welcome in my home."

Maia sketched a bow and replied, "I thank you, sir. You are very kind. Will you allow me to do as my sister instructed? It is late and you are tired, and I would sleep easier if you would allow me to see you to your room and assure myself that you are resting before I retire." She caught his hand and began to climb the stairs again, tugging at him gently.

Looking a bit dazed, he followed her up the stairs with a hesitant, "All right . . ."

All of the others watched with their mouths hanging open as Maia led Benton away. At the top of the stairs, they paused and the others could hear Maia's soft voice, "This way, sir?"

"No, I think it . . . I mean . . . I-I'm not sure . . ."

"That is all right. It is a very big house, but I am sure we can find it . . . " Then the voices faded away as the pair disappeared down the hall in the direction of Benton's room.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, very softly, Race said, "I'll be damned."

"That one's a lot like her sister," Garrett commented with an amused smile.

"Maybe . . . maybe she'll be good for him," Barbara added hesitantly. "Maybe having a child in the house again will cause him to focus and buy us some time." Suddenly, she spun and faced Paul squarely. "Where are they?" she demanded strongly. "Jonny and Hadji. Where are they? They're needed here now."

"Take it easy, Barbara," Race advised, laying a calming hand on her arm. "We'll get answers in a minute . . ."

Stan stepped forward and knelt in front of Srinivasan. "Hello, Vassey," he said gently. "Can I call you Vassey?" The child stared at the stranger silently and shied back, edging away from him.

Race rested his hand on the boy's head and knelt carefully beside him. "This is Stan, Vassey. He's a friend of Kefira's." Stan smiled encouragingly at the boy, but Vassey sidled even further away, trying to hide behind Race.

"Are you hungry, Vassey?" Stan coaxed. "We can get you something to eat." The boy hid his face against Race's back.

Barbara reached out and tipped his head up. She smiled encouragingly at the boy. "It's all right, Vassey. We won't hurt you . . ." Two big tears rolled down Vassey's cheeks as he continued to try to hide behind Race.

"Paul, can you . . ." Race began, but Paul shook his head sharply.

"Don't look at me. Neither of them like me at all. The only reason there wasn't a fight over this back in Delhi was because Kefira flat out told them they had to go with me. They huddled in the back of the plane as far away from me as they could get for the entire trip."

Barbara looked at Race with an apologetic smile. "It looks like you're the only one he trusts, Race."

Race sighed softly, but turned and carefully put an arm around the boy. "It's all right, Vassey. You're safe here. Are you hungry?" The boy huddled against Race, keeping a wary eye on everyone else. Slowly, he nodded.

"Well, what do you say we get you something to eat, then?" He released the boy and moved away, starting to get to his feet. The movement sent the child into a frenzy. Crying out, he flung himself against Race. His small arms wrapped around Race's neck in a stranglehold and he clung frantically, sobbing uncontrollably into his neck. The abrupt movement threw Race off balance and he sat down hard on the parquet floor, clutching at the boy protectively. "Hey - hey, Vassey, it's all right. There's nothing to be scared of. What's wrong?" He looked up at Barbara helplessly. "What the hell . . ."

Barbara shook her head. "What can you expect? His parents are dead, he's uprooted from everything he's ever known, he's been shunted off to strangers, and now the only familiar person he knows has disappeared upstairs. It's no wonder he's upset. He seems to have attached himself to you." She smiled slightly. "Looks like you're it. If you can cope, I'll go up and make sure that Maia's managing with Benton."

Race cuddled the boy gently, making soft soothing sounds and nodded at Barbara. As she disappeared up the stairs, Race rose awkwardly. Hiking the child up slightly, he carried him into the kitchen. The others trailed along behind him and watched as Race moved efficiently around the kitchen, pulling items out of cabinets and the refrigerator with one hand, while carrying the child in his other arm. Vassey continued to cling to Race, his face buried in his neck. Two glasses, a bottle of apple juice, and a couple of graham crackers materialized quickly, followed by a bowl and spoon, a packet of instant oatmeal, some sugar, and a jug of milk. Race opened the packet of oatmeal, dumped it in the bowl, added some water, stirred it up and shoved it into the microwave. Then he poured some of the apple juice into one of the glasses and sat down on the edge of one of the bar stools. Relaxing his grip on the boy, he eased the child down onto his leg. "I have something for you, Vassey," he coaxed gently in Hindi. "Here . . . do you want some juice?" After a moment, the boy's grip around Race's neck slackened and he turned his head enough to look down at what Race was holding. "It's okay," Race encouraged him. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here. Come on . . . you told me you were hungry." Race offered the child a piece of the graham cracker. Hesitantly, Vassey took the cracker and began to nibble on it. Race looked at him inquiringly. "Do you like that?" An almost imperceptible nod caused Race to smile. "Good. Now, you want the juice?" The boy reached for it with one hand and Race deftly shifted him slightly so both of the child's hands were free. "Come on, both hands. That's a boy . . ."

Little by little, Race encouraged the child to eat. The tremors that had shaken his body faded and Race could feel him begin to relax. He retrieved the oatmeal, stirred it up, added sugar and milk, and then settled comfortably onto the bar stool with Vassey securely in his lap. After filling the second glass with milk, Race handed the child the spoon and urged him to try the oatmeal. Soon, Vassey was eating as though half-starved. Finally Race looked up at the others with a soft sigh. "Okay, crisis averted . . . at least for now."

"Your talents never cease to amaze me, Bannon," Paul said dryly. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I've had more experience with traumatized little boys than I care to recall," Race replied a bit sharply. "Now, Paul, where the hell is my daughter and the others?"

"You got any coffee in this mausoleum?" Paul retorted disagreeably, responding poorly to the snappish demand.

"Sit down," Garrett replied, gesturing to a chair. "I'll get it."

Race shook himself and said quietly, "Sorry, Paul. I'm a little on edge. What can you tell me?"

Quickly, Paul summarized the events from the time Jessie first contacted him to his departure from Dehli. He concluded grudgingly, "She's good, I'll say that much for her, Race. I had no clue that the woman I knew as Monica Leveck was anyone other than who she represented herself to be. She must be a real asset to the agency."

"Don't be an idiot," Race replied wearily. "Do you think I'd let them get anywhere near her? For God's sake, she's only 18."

Paul stared at him. "Eighteen? She's only 18???" The stunned expression on Paul's face was almost comical as he obviously struggled to absorb that bit of information. "And the others? The blonde boy . . ."

". . . is probably Jonny, Benton's youngest. He's the one she's gone after. He's 18, too. I'm assuming the other young man you mentioned is Hadji, Benton's elder son . . . also the legal and hereditary ruler of the country of Bangalore. Jess brought them to you for weapons?"

"She didn't want to. I made her. I wanted to make sure they were trained to use what I was giving them. Jessica didn't name them, though. Is Jonny blonde, blue eyes, slightly over six feet, about 160?" Race nodded. "And Hadji . . . Indian, about 25 or 26, six foot, slender, medium brown skin, dark eyes?"

Race nodded wearily once again. "That's Hadji. He's 19, by the way. And from what you've said, you know Kefira."

"Yes."

Abruptly, Race shoved his chair back and swore viciously at the ceiling. "What did we ever do to deserve being in this mess?!" he snarled in impotent fury. Vassey whimpered softly, curling in on himself. Race responded immediately, leaning forward and putting his arms around the boy. "Shhhh. It's all right, Vassey," he crooned softly in Hindi. "I'm not angry at you." The boy burrowed against Race again, clinging to him tightly.

"But you said Jessica isn't agency-trained?" Paul asked. "You're sure? Because she reacts like it. Where did she . . ." He paused suddenly, staring at Race and then shook his head. "No - never mind. Stupid question. Of course you trained her . . ."

Race interrupted. "I trained all three of them. They can hold their own in a fight . . . usually . . ." An uncomfortable silence followed that statement. Finally, Race sighed and rubbed his face. Softly, he muttered to himself, "But a war . . . there's no way to help them . . . nothing I can do . . ."

Paul gazed at his old friend for a long moment and then said encouragingly, "For whatever it's worth, Jessica and Kefira both seemed absolutely certain both young men were still alive and free, probably in Bangalore City somewhere. As I understand it, their intention was to gather themselves an army and take the city by force, if necessary. Kefira was convinced that Hadji had the popular support and that they would be able to get the manpower to accomplish this."

Race nodded. "That's what you said and I agree with Jess' logic, up to a point. You didn't say how they were planning on getting into the country, though. Bennett says that place is shut up tight . . . all the borders are closed and heavily guarded."

Paul raised in eyebrows in surprise. "You keep in touch with Bennett? You surprise me again. As for getting in? They were doing a high altitude parachute jump into a remote region of the mountains near one of Kefira's father's mines. I gotta give that daughter of yours credit . . . she's got guts. She's as crazy as you are, but she's definitely not lacking in nerve."

"I'm assuming she came to you originally because she needed weapons?"

Paul nodded. "Knew exactly what she wanted, too. Brought the two young men to me first looking for small stuff . . . handguns, knives, that kind of thing. Then she came back a second time for the heavier artillery. It was when she asked for that stuff and refused to tell you what she was doing that I insisted on going along." Paul shrugged, his shoulders sagging wearily. "I stuck with her as long as she'd let me. I tried to talk her out of it, Race. Believe me, I did."

Race sighed and ran a weary hand over his hair. "I know. But as long as Jonny was in the middle of that mess over there, no one could have stopped her. Jade flew 'em in?"

"Yeah."

"I was afraid of that."

Paul was quiet for a moment, staring down into his coffee cup. Then he shook his head and looked up at him again. "I don't think you have to worry about Jade. She won't leave Jessica hanging." Paul shrugged helplessly at Race's doubtful expression. "I can't explain it. I know it's not like Jade to stick her neck out for someone, but I really got the feeling that she'd back Jess any way she could." A smile tugged at his lips. "Her loyalty and fondness for you seems to have been passed on to your daughter."

Race snorted. "Loyalty? Jade is loyal to money. You pay her enough and she'll stick with you . . . up to a point. But she doesn't risk her skin for anyone."

Paul shrugged helplessly. "I told you I can't explain it. I can only report what I saw."

In the ensuing silence, Stan pointed and commented softly, "Looks like your young friend is down for the count."

Race looked down. Vassey still sat in his lap, but now his head was slumped forward on the counter and he appeared to be sound asleep. "I wonder what my chances are of putting him to bed?" Shifting slightly, he immediately felt the boy stir. "Slim to none," he said ruefully. "Come on, let's go in the other room." Picking the boy up again, Race led the way back to the family room. Race went immediately to the sofa and sat down sideways, propping his legs up across the cushions. After an initial murmur of protest, Vassey had been quiet and when Race relaxed into the sofa, the boy shifted until he lay draped across Race's lap and torso. He rested his head against Race's chest and with a soft whimper, drifted off to sleep again.

Race glanced out the doorway toward the staircase in the entryway. "I wonder how Barbara is managing?"

"Would you like for me to check on them?" Stan asked.

Race shook his head. "That's okay. If she needs help, she'll call."

"I haven't met your friends," Paul said pointedly.

Race leaned back on the sofa, allowing his eyes to drift closed as he shifted around to get more comfortable. Exhaustion was overtaking him quickly and he felt himself starting to drift. He made a vague gesture at the others and leaned his head back trying to ease the headache he suddenly realized was thudding behind his eyes.

When it became obvious Race wasn't going to reply, Garrett stepped forward, offering his hand. "Garrett Blackman . . . and my friend, Stan Knight."

Paul shook the proffered hand, eyeing the two men warily. "Paul . . . Jean-Paul . . . Bussac."

"Mr. Bussac," Garrett acknowledged, but there was a touch of sarcastic humor in his expression . . . as though he questioned the truth of that identification.

"So you're a friend of Race's then?"

"Jon's, actually."

"Oh." There was a somewhat lengthy pause as the three men eyed each other uneasily. Behind them, the sound of snoring warned them that Race had dropped off to sleep. Paul nodded toward the back of the house. "Is there anyone else here?"

Garrett frowned slightly and demanded, "Why do you ask?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't know?" Paul replied irritably.

"Is there a reason you should?" Garrett shot back as Stan moved to stand beside him challengingly.

Paul stiffened, his hands doubling over into fists, and rocked forward on the balls of his feet." I don't think I like your attitude . . ."

"Gentlemen, please . . . " All three men jumped at sound of the soft voice. As one, they turned toward the doorway and saw Barbara Mason standing there looking very tired. "It's been a very long day. We're all on the same side here so let's not fight." She glanced past them to where Race lay on the sofa and a smile touched her lips. "Looks like both of them are out." She contemplated them or a moment longer and then asked softly, "IRIS, can you get a picture of Race and Vassey there on the sofa?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Do it then. I don't think this image is one that Estella will want to miss."

There was a brief pause and then IRIS said, "THREE DIGITAL IMAGES HAVE BEEN TAKEN AND ARE NOW AVAILABLE IN THE FAMILY PHOTO LOG ON THE HOUSE COMPUTER SYSTEM."

"Thank you, IRIS. Print all three to the color printer in the study, please." Then she looked at Garrett and Stan. "You think we can get Vassey out of there without waking him?"

Stan looked doubtful. "We can try, but I don't hold much hope. The boy's fixed on Race and I don't think he'll be separated from him very readily."

Barbara sighed. "Just what Race needs . . . another responsibility. Well, we do the best we can." She walked across the room and leaned down to shake Race's shoulder gently. With a slight start, he woke and blinked at her.

"Barbara." He struggled to sit up, slipping an arm around Srinivasan and hugging him gently as the child stirred uneasily. "How's Benton?"

"Sound asleep with Maia curled up on the edge of the bed. She refuses to leave him. Keeps insisting that her sister told her to help. I think she's exhausted and emotionally overloaded and she's grabbed onto something that gives her an anchor. I'm going to leave her there. It's probably good for both of them."

Race turned and swung his feet to the floor. Small arms clutched at him convulsively again. "Maia's not the only one," Race said, rubbing his cheek against the top of the child's head.

Barbara laughed softly. "Go to bed, Race, and take Vassey with you. You can try to put him in Kefira's room . . ."

Race shook his head. "He wouldn't go. If he's comfortable with me, it's best he stay with me. He won't be any trouble." He glanced at the three men still standing near the door into the family room and then looked back at Barbara apologetically. "I hate to impose on you again, but can you see that everyone has a place to sleep . . ."

"Not me," Paul broke in. "I'm headed back to India. I'll follow Jessie and Kefira and . . ."

"No," Race said firmly. "At least, not tonight. If you're determined to go back there, then we need to see if we can figure out something we can do to help her. Paul, I'm beat. I desperately need to get some sleep. I'm not thinking clearly. Give me until tomorrow morning before you take off."

Paul gazed at him in silence for a long moment. What is this costing him? Paul wondered to himself. To sit back and do nothing when his only child is at risk. "All right. I'll wait until tomorrow. I'd welcome the opportunity to say hello to Estella again anyway." The sudden change in Race's expression caused Paul to stiffen. "What's wrong? Where's Estella? Isn't she here?"

Race shook his head. "No," he said in a low voice and then he turned and walked away without another word.

Paul looked at Barbara. "Oh God, she hasn't left him again . . ."

"No, nothing like that," Barbara replied hastily. Then she sighed. "She's hospitalized in Portland . . . has been since last night."

"The baby?"

"Yes. She's having a rough time."

"And he's not with her?" Paul asked incredulously.

Barbara shrugged and spread her hands. "His wife's hospitalized and facing surgery, the man he's sworn to protect is desperately ill and getting worse by the hour, his daughter and the two boys he loves like sons are caught in the middle of a war on the other side of the globe, and now he's got two young children who are dependent on him. He's spread so thin he doesn't know which way is up any more. Estella sent him away . . . one less choice to make. And do you think he'd be here waiting to hear the fate of those three kids if he had any other choice?"

"I wondered . . ." Paul murmured softly.

"He's here because he has to be . . . no one else can hold up this end. I can help. So can Garrett and Stan to a small degree. But it all collapses if Race leaves. Jessica, Jon, Hadji and Kefira simply have to cope on their own this time. There's no other way."

"God, what a mess." "That's one word for it. Come on, there's another guest room upstairs. I'll show you where it is. Garrett . . . Stan . . . do you need me for anything?"

Both men shook their heads. Then Garrett said quietly, "I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Stan and I really need to get back to Boston. Stan's needed to help hold things together until Jon gets back, and I can be more effective in putting pressure on the Indian government if I'm in my own office."

Barbara nodded. "I understand. I'm grateful for all the help you've provided so far. But can I ask you to do the same thing Race asked of Paul? Wait until tomorrow morning. We'll sit down and go over everything before you leave, and figure out what to do from there."

Garrett hesitated and finally nodded reluctantly. "All right. We can do that."

"Thank you. Now, let's all see if we can get some rest."