Thursday, December 16
Main House
Quest Compound
Rockport, Maine
Jonny Quest looked up from his book and watched as his adopted brother, Hadji Singh, walked into the family room in the main house of Quest Compound. Nearby, Jonny's girlfriend, Jessie Bannon, sat cross-legged on the floor playing solitaire. Occasionally, she would reach out and shove Bandit, the family's dog, out of the way as he attempted to sidle over and lie on her cards. Jonny watched with veiled amusement as Hadji crossed the room and settled into his father's big reading chair near the windows. Silently, Jonny began to count to himself, being careful not to let Hadji know he was being watched. Before Jonny reached 20, Hadji rose and walked across the room to stir the logs in the big fireplace. He fussed with them briefly, then returned to his chair. Reaching out, he picked up a large book sitting on the nearby table and opened it. Jonny began counting again. At the count of eleven, Hadji set the book down and rose again. He crossed the room and sat down at the computer terminal. Jessie glanced up at Hadji and then exchanged an amused look with Jonny before returning to her solitaire game. Abruptly, Hadji rose from the computer and turned to return to his chair. He stared suspiciously at the bowed heads of his two closest friends, but both appeared to be totally absorbed in what they were doing. After a moment, he walked back across the room and sat down again. Picking up a magazine, he began to leaf through it blindly. Two minutes later he rose again and walked to the windows to stare out across the lawn.
"Why don't you go ahead and go?" Jonny finally asked him.
Hadji jumped noticeably. "What?"
Jessie looked up at him and laughed. "Just leave. It's a long drive to New York, and you're going absolutely nuts hanging around here."
Hadji sighed. "It is that obvious?"
Jonny and Jessie both erupted into laughter. "Yes, it's that obvious," Jessie assured him.
Jonny just grinned. "You've been restless all week, but today has been really bad. You haven't stayed involved with anything for more than five minutes at a time. After a few minutes you get this vacant look and just wander off."
"It is not that bad!" Hadji exclaimed. His two friends just sat, grinning back at him, without a word. ". . . is it?" Hadji glared at them as they both collapsed into mirth again.
After a moment, Jessie rose from the floor and came to put an arm around her friend companionably. "Hey, Hadji, it's okay. We understand. It's really rough to be separated."
"Yeah," Jonny seconded, joining them. "I don't think there's anything harder."
"Yes. I am coming to understand that. But what if Kefira has changed her mind since I left Bangalore? Decided she does not want to come here to school? Or to marry me? Or . . . " Hadji trailed off miserably.
Jessie and Jonny looked at their friend in astonishment. This didn't sound like Hadji at all. Jessie looked at Jonny in concern, only to see him starting to grin widely. Been there, done that, Jonny thought to himself as he clapped Hadji soundly on the shoulder and said, "Hey, come here . . ." Jonny led his brother and best friend over to the sofa and all three of them sat down.
"Hadji, I know what you're saying," Jonny said to him, his grin fading to be replaced with a serious expression. "When you first realize that you've found the girl you want to spend your life with, it's really scary. You doubt yourself. You question everything you do and everything you say. You can't seem to do anything right. And you can go from being blissfully happy to bleakly depressed almost as quickly at it takes to turn around. I know . . . I've been there. And it sucks! But you have to trust in yourself and believe what she tells you. You can't try and second-guess her. You'll drive yourself crazy." Jonny grinned ruefully. "Just ask me how crazy you can make yourself." Hadji chuckled weakly.
"Furthermore," Jessie joined in, taking Hadji's hand, "you already know she's coming. You told us two days ago that Kefira and her father had left for the trip here. I can't believe that she would travel all this way simply to tell you to get lost."
Hadji sighed. "But you do not understand, my friends. It is so much more than just the two of us. I could convince myself, if it was just she and I. But if she does marry me, she also has to take on the entire country of Bangalore. That is a great deal of ask of anyone." He sighed again, staring at his lap blindly. "And that is not all."
"What else, then," Jessie urged him softly when Hadji didn't continue. She squeezed his hand gently and was rewarded by a lightening quick glance filled with indecision and unhappiness before his gaze returned to it's fixed, downward stare.
"Even if she does marry me . . . " and he stopped again. Jessie and Jonny waited silently, giving Hadji time to try to put into words what he was feeling. Finally, he sighed and lifted his head, "If she does marry me, I may never know if she did so because it was what she really wanted, or if it was because she felt it was her 'obligation' to do so."
All three of them were silent for a time, as Jessie and Jonny struggled to absorb that. Finally, Jonny asked, "Have you told her she doesn't have to accept your proposal? That it is her choice?"
"Yes. Several times." There was a slightly bitter tone to his voice as he added, "But I have no doubt that in my absence, my mother has been involving herself in this matter."
"Involving herself in what way?" Jessie asked.
"Putting pressure on Kefira. And Rajeev as well, probably. To move up the wedding . . . to prevent Kefira from coming to the U.S. to school . . . to give up her plans for becoming an engineer . . . to conform . . ."
Jonny didn't know what to say. But Jessie did. She laughed softly and said, "Hadji, from what you have told us about Kefira, she is more than a match for your mother. You've told her she doesn't have to marry you, and you have been honest with her, right?"
Hadji nodded. "As honest as I know how to be. There is much I do not know, though."
Jessie shrugged and replied, "Then you've done all you can do. Give her time to get to know you and to understand the magnitude of the future she's facing. And then let her make the choice. Aside from it being the only thing you can do, it is also the right thing to do."
"And you know what else?" Jonny asked Hadji, grinning.
Hadji eyed his brother warily, wondering what final shot Jonny was getting ready to deliver. "What?"
"She probably knows more about running that country than you do!"
Hadji stared at him for a minute before his mouth curved in a smile. "You are probably right, my friend." He straightened and began to laugh ruefully, "In fact, I am sure you are right."
Laughing, Jessie asked, "So are you going to go ahead and leave for New York?"
Hadji shook his head. "No, I will wait until tomorrow as I planned. If I am going to wander around in a vacant daze, I am safer doing it here than on the streets of New York. Her plane does not get in until late Saturday afternoon. I will leave mid-morning tomorrow, spend the rest of the day making the drive down to the city, and still have most of the daylight hours on Saturday to run Father's errands before they arrive."
"Sounds like a plan," Jonny agreed. "What do you say we do something productive to kill time. Jess has the final details for Race and Estella's wedding that need to be taken care of, and she wanted to do some running around this afternoon. I told her I'd play chauffeur. Why don't you come along?"
"Yeah," Jessie urged. "I can use all the help I can get. Usually, it's a mother who plans her daughter's wedding. I'm feeling a little odd, doing it the other way around."
"I have to admit, I have not been paying much attention," Hadji said, looking embarrassed. "What are the plans?"
"It's not going to be a real big affair . . . only about 20-25 guests," Jessie replied. "The wedding will be at St. Margaret's in Camden, and then there'll be a reception/party at the Phenix Inn in Bangor." She sighed as she considered the reception. "I had really hoped to find someplace that was big enough to have a dance floor, but I'm just not having any luck. Everyplace that is big enough is already booked for the holidays. I was lucky that the Dawsons could handle it at all. And this will be nice. The Dawsons decorate so beautifully and we can have a small band for music."
"Why not just have it here?" Jonny asked. "We have more than enough room to set up a dance floor."
Jessie shook her head. "No, that's not a good idea. For one thing, Dad would be all distracted, having to worry about Compound security. And Mom would have a fit if a bunch of government agent-types showed up at her wedding. We've also got our Christmas party here the following Wednesday, and I don't think it's fair to ask Mrs. Evans to try to deal with two major functions in less than a week. Furthermore, I want the reception somewhere that's a bit more accessible. If we have bad weather, having it here will make it difficult for people to attend. And the reception is really being held so the local people who aren't invited to the wedding can come wish Dad well." Jessie looked at her companions with something of a bemused look. "I've been surprised by the number of people who seem really disappointed not to be invited. Dad has more friends here than I realized."
Both Jonny and Hadji laughed. "That surprises you?" Jonny asked, teasingly. In a more serious voice, he continued, "Let's face it, Jess. He's helped an awful lot of people since he's come to live with us. He's always headed up the search and rescue squad for the area. And he teaches first aid and emergency training classes for all the surrounding communities."
"And do not forget," Hadji reminded her, "that he also runs karate and tae kwan do classes for kids, and has been known to substitute for both the gym teacher and the swimming instructor at the high school. He is involved with a lot of things, particularly when you consider how frequently we are gone."
"You're right," Jessie agreed with a laugh. "I guess I just never thought about it much." She rose and crossed to the computer console on the other side of the room. She picked up a notebook from the desk and returned to the sofa. "I still need to check on the church and make sure everything is set there, take the sheet music to the pianist for the wedding, let the minister know that Mom and Dad have decided to write their own vows, confirm the time with him, give the florist the final specifications for the flowers, make arrangement for the delivery of the flowers to both the church and the hotel, call and make sure that Grampa Doug is gonna be here, confirm the hotel reservations for Aunt Victoria and Uncle Jorge, check with the last of the guests who haven't RSVPed, finalize the menu with the caterer and give them a headcount, check with the hotel staff about the setup of the tables for the dinner, talk to the Lowells about doing the decorating of the dinner tables and the room for the reception, confirm and pay the band, and pick up Mom's dress. Oh, and drag Jonny in for the final fitting for his tux."
Hadji stared at her, dumbfounded, as Jonny complained, "I still don't see why I have to wear a tux. I have a perfectly good navy blue suit that I've worn exactly once."
"You have to wear a tux because all the men in the wedding party are wearing a tux, and you are in the wedding party," Jessie replied, without even looking up from her list. Belatedly, Hadji realized that this was probably an on-going argument.
"But . . ." Hadji started, but then stopped. Jessie looked up at him sharply. Hastily, he said, "What am I to wear?"
Jessie looked at him strangely. "I figured you'd want to wear your formal wear from Bangalore . . ."
"NO!" he snapped harshly, without thought. Jessie stared at him in stunned surprise. After a moment, Hadji added lamely, "It would not match. I have a tuxedo. I can wear that."
After a long moment, Jessie finally said, "Yeah. That'll be fine. Thanks, Hadji." She turned her attention to her list again and allowed the episode to pass.
"I thought you said this was a small wedding," Hadji said tentatively, after a moment.
"It is," Jessie replied absently. She looked up at Hadji suddenly, "Is Kefira's Dad gonna be able to be here for the wedding?"
Hadji shook his head. "No. He has to leave on the 23rd. I talked with him about it, but he says that he has to be back in Bangalore by the 28th for a meeting of his mining foremen. If he stays for the wedding, he would have to fly out on the 25th to make it back in time, and he cannot get a flight before the 27th. And we have no one here to take him home."
Jessie sighed. "That's too bad. It would have been nice if he could have been here." She frowned at her list again. Absently, she said, "I'll need to talk with Kefira as soon as she arrives, too. Since you're gonna be in the wedding party, I need another woman to balance the mix. I hope she'll be willing to take part." Hadji looked over Jessie's head at his brother, startled. Jonny just grinned and shrugged.
"I do not have to be in the wedding party," Hadji told her.
"Yes, you do. Dad says he wants you and Jonny and Dr. Quest to stand up with him."
"Oh," Hadji replied weakly.
Jonny laughed and shook his head at his brother. "Don't even bother to argue, Hadj." He stood and looked down at Jessie, a tolerant smile on his face, "Well, why don't we get started. You've only got seven days to get all this done and we aren't gonna finish it sitting here."
The three of them rose and moved toward the coat closet in the main hallway. Hadji opened the closet door, pulled out coats and passed them around. After putting his on, Jonny reached into his pocket and began fishing for his keys. With car keys in hand, he strode over and reached for the door, saying,
"I'll go get the car and pull it around to the front door."
"I would suggest that you bring around the Blazer," Hadji replied. Jonny looked over his shoulder with a questioning look as he opened the door. "They are predicting snow," Hadji clarified.
"Gotcha! It'll be right . . . OH!" Jonny's comment was cut off as he bumped into someone standing on the front porch. The two of them staggered, catching their balance.
"Whaaa . . ." the visitor exclaimed, startled.
"I'm so sorry!" Jonny said apologetically. "I didn't . . . . Admiral Bennett???"
"It's nice to . . . run into you . . . again, Mr. Quest," Bennett acknowledged dryly.
Jonny flushed slightly and directed an accusatory glance toward the ceiling.
"Hey, IRIS, what's the deal? Why didn't you warn us Admiral Bennett was here?"
IRIS' soft, feminine voice replied primly, "I NOTIFIED YOUR FATHER OF THE ADMIRAL'S ARRIVAL. HE WAS EXPECTED."
"Well, you might have warned me!" Jonny replied testily. "I almost mowed him down!"
"IT IS NOT MY FAULT, JONATHAN QUEST, THAT YOU DO NOT WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING," the computer replied in a haughty tone.
Jessie and Hadji exchanged resigned glances.
"He's been fooling with IRIS' programming again, hasn't he," Jessie asked Hadji in disgust.
"I would say so," Hadji agreed. "Although I do not understand why he would want to add rudeness to the program."
"Trying to make IRIS over in his own image?" Jessie suggested with a sly grin.
Jonny turned a mock-injured look on his two friends as he said apologetically, "Please, come in, Admiral Bennett. I'm very sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."
"No harm done," Bennett laughed, stepping in the door.
"IRIS, is Father coming?" Hadji asked as he took Bennett's coat and hung it in the closet.
"HE WILL BE HERE MOMENTARILY," IRIS replied. "HE IS ON HIS WAY FROM THE LIGHTHOUSE."
"May we offer you something, Admiral Bennett?" Jessie asked politely. "I believe there is coffee in the kitchen."
"No, thank you, Ms. Bannon. I'm fine." Glancing at Hadji, Bennett commented conversationally, "By the way, Mr. Singh, I hear that congratulations are in order."
"Sir?" Hadji asked, puzzled.
"I hear you are to be married."
Hadji stiffened sharply and stared at the man, speechless. In the sudden silence, they all heard the back door open and close, and the sound of footsteps crossing the kitchen.
Finally, Hadji replied, "Thank you."
Bennett looked at the young man closely. "I'm sorry. I appear to have touched a sore spot."
Recovering quickly, Hadji relaxed with a laugh, "No, not at all, Admiral. I was just a bit surprised. There has been no formal announcement of the betrothal, as yet. May I ask where you heard about it?"
"From the Indian ambassador. I was at a diplomatic function last week and he had commented that there was a royal wedding being planned in one of the provinces. The way he said it implied that he expected that I would know about it. Naturally, I asked who was getting married and he told me you were. Said he had been notified by the Bangalore ambassador last week."
"I see," Hadji said calmly. But Jessie and Jonny both heard the undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Well, Admiral, I certainly do hope that you will be able to attend when the time comes."
"I'll make it a point to do so," Bennett replied. Looking beyond the three young people, he stepped forward, offering his hand, as he continued, "Ah, Dr. Quest, there you are. I appreciate your willingness to see me on such short notice."
Benton Quest looked at his eldest son sharply as he shook the Admiral's proffered hand and replied, "It's no problem, Admiral. Why don't we go into my study." His gaze took in all three young people as he asked, "You're heading somewhere?"
"Yeah," Jonny replied. "More legwork for Jess."
Benton laughed, watching the three of them walk out the door. "Have fun. And be careful . . ."
"Thank you, Father, we will." Hadji smiled warmly at the older man. "We will be back in time for dinner." But Benton noticed that the door slammed with thinly veiled violence as Hadji shut it. After a brief moment, Benton turned, gesturing to the other man.
"This way, Admiral."
"So what can I do for you, Admiral?" Benton Quest asked the man sitting across the desk from him.
"I need help, Dr. Quest. The kind of help that only you can provide, I think."
"Well, I'll certainly try to do whatever I can. Why don't you tell me about your problem."
Admiral Bennett contemplated the man sitting in front of him, and wondered again about the wisdom of what he was about to do. He had never had any reason to question Benton Quest's loyalties. In fact, Quest had proved himself to be reliable more times that Bennett could count. Which made the lies that he was about to tell this man all the harder. Unfortunately, he had been left little choice. Niemeyer had been very specific in his instructions and Bennett simply didn't see how he could ignore them. Steeling himself, Bennett looked Quest straight in the eye and said,
"You know that the military budget has been cut drastically over the last several years. Those cuts have been across the board and the funding has been handed down in a lump sum. It has then been left to the various branches to find an equitable division of the funds. But even our best efforts at conservation of funds still leaves us short of being able to effectively fund the various branches and ensure that we fulfill the responsibilities we have been charged with."
Benton Quest looked at Bennett quizzically and asked with a touch of humor, "Are you here to ask the Quest Foundation for a grant, Admiral?"
Bennett laughed ruefully. "Don't doubt, Dr. Quest, that I would do it if I thought it would help. But, no, that's not why I'm here. One of our largest expenses every year is the cost of training. Like any other profession, you must practice your skills to ensure that they are sharp when you need them. And the skills needed to fight in the desert are substantially different than the skills needed to fight in a jungle, which makes it necessary to train your men in both environments. But that is a very expensive proposition. More and more, we have come to rely on simulators. In the last several years, we've begun to pool the training budgets for all of the service branches and to use the bulk of the funds to develop training simulations that can be effective for training all of our troops."
Benton Quest leaned forward, concentrating closely on the man in front of him. "I have read in the professional journals that you have begun work with some of the more prominent gaming companies to adapt some of their more popular software as military training simulations."
Bennett sighed. "Yes. It's a good idea with a great deal of potential, but not without its problems."
"And that's why you're here."
"Yes," Bennett nodded. "We need your help with resolving the problems we're having trying to implement the programs."
Benton Quest relaxed back into his chair and smiled at the uniformed man across from him. "So, why don't you tell me about it and I'll see if there is anything I can do."
Bennett shifted, settling more comfortably into his chair, feeling more at ease now that he was past the initial lie. This part of the story, at least, was true. "The simulation programs themselves don't appear to be the problem. The programming is broad-ranging enough to provide a good spectrum of experience and the detail is excellent. But we've encountered a number of problems that seem to relate to the integration of multiple users. We also have serious problems with side effects on the men utilizing the programs. And the longer they use them the worse things get."
"What does Isaac have to say about the problem?"
Bennett gave a snort of disgust. "He started muttering about computers and hardware and networks and all sorts of other mumbo-jumbo, and said I had to make do for about five years or until the hardware industry catches up with the software industry . . . whatever that means!"
Benton laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid he's right, Admiral. In this area, the software development has far outpaced the development of the hardware to support it. And fashioning an interface that will trigger the natural human responses of the senses is exceedingly difficult. The human brain is a remarkable organ. It is an organic computer with a processing speed that is blindingly fast. It also has the ability to multi-task in a manner that no one has ever been able to figure out, let alone duplicate. Think of it in terms of trying to get a very, very old and antiquated computer system to interface and function with a brand new, state-of-the-art one. The principles are the same. And in this case, the interface tends to bring down the state-of-the-art system . . . the human operator."
"And yet, some systems work," Admiral Bennett stated pointedly.
"Some systems work better than others," Benton Quest corrected him. "No simulation is capable of fooling the human mind. Nor is there one able to seamlessly interface with a human operator and provide an experience so perfect that you can't tell the difference between it and real life. Such a system doesn't exist and is a very long way from being possible."
Bennett stared at the man sitting opposite him. "Are you certain of that, Dr. Quest? I was under the impression that you've worked on this problem for quite some time now." Bennett watched as Benton Quest's face grew still and his expression blank.
"Quite certain, Admiral Bennett," Benton replied with conviction. "As you say, I've worked on the problem in recent years and I am very aware of the problems. I assure you, the technology that you are talking about does not exist."
"And yet, the last time I was here, I saw your own son using something that was obviously a fully immersive virtual reality system," Admiral Bennett stated with conviction, his voice cold and hard.
Benton Quest rose abruptly, his voice turning equally cold. "My son plays video games, Admiral Bennett. Both of my sons do. As do I, on occasion. That I have a home computer system that is better than most is also true. That does not mean I have developed a system in my basement that could be used to train military troops for combat. Now, if you will excuse me. I have other things I need to attend to."
For an instant the two men stared at each other, locked in a contest of wills. Finally, Bennett's eyes fell and he sighed heavily. Rising, he said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Quest. I don't mean to be difficult. It is simply that I saw something the last time I was here that was clearly military in nature and I had hoped it could solve some of my problems."
"What was it that you thought you saw, Admiral?" Benton asked in a more friendly tone, gesturing for the man to seat himself again. "Perhaps if I knew that, I would have a better idea of what you're getting at."
Bennett hesitated fractionally, then said, "Your son and Race Bannon's daughter were using some type of military aircraft to strike at a specified target."
Benton Quest began to laugh. "Admiral, what you saw was a commercially available video game that my sons had purchased and modified to operate on the Quest mainframe. As you know, most video games today are written to run on standard home PCs. But my system here is a large research computer, similar to the ones found in the research labs in the Pentagon . . . Crays or Univacs that are programmed in mainframe language. Hadji, in particular, is very good at modifying commercial video games to run on our home system." Benton shrugged. "And I require that both boys, and Jessie Bannon for that matter, spend a certain amount of time working in the lab as part of their education. All three kids have become quite creative in finding entertaining ways to spend that time. I know the episode you're referring to, now. Race mentioned it to me at the time. Jonny and Jessie were assigned to purge archive files from the mainframe for me. They chose to do that by utilizing one of their video game programs to "blow up" the files I wanted disposed." Benton chuckled again. "Not exactly conventional, but effective all the same."
"But what about the headsets I saw?" Bennett objected. "Those weren't conventional either."
"A variation on the same heads-up technology the Air Force and Navy use in their fighter aircraft that allows the pilot to see the instruments and gauge readings right in his line of sight and then focus through them when he doesn't need them," Benton replied patiently.
"Then why don't your kids suffer from the same kind of . . . of . . . cybersickness that our troops do when trying to use the simulators?"
"For the same reason your pilots don't suffer from cybersickness. Their focus is on the specific . . . not on the entire environment around them. They are not trying to take in an entire scene and operate within it. That is what disrupts the senses. And in that area, I'm afraid I can be of no help to you."
Bennett sat quietly, lost in thought, for several minutes. Finally, he released his breath in a deep sigh and focused on Benton Quest again. "Well, I guess that's it, then. But I wonder if I could impose on you just a bit further."
"Certainly", Benton replied.
"Come back to Washington with me. Meet and discuss the problem with Dr. Wolenchek. I'm serving as a go-between, but communicating the scientific issues is not my strong suit. I still can't believe there isn't some way that you can help in this situation."
Benton smiled ruefully. "Admiral, I appreciate your faith in me, but I am not a miracle worker."
"Perhaps not. But come and discuss the problem with Dr. Wolenchek, anyway."
Benton sighed. "All right. But I can't do it now. I have a meeting scheduled with a very prominent scientist from Japan on Monday, and guests from Bangalore arriving the same day. Mr. Subramanian will remain here through Thursday, and then Race is getting married on Friday. And that takes us right up to Christmas Day. I really don't see how I can get there anytime before then."
"Bannon's getting married again?" Bennett asked in amazement. "I never thought that would happen. I figured he'd never get over his first wife."
Benton chuckled. "Well, I guess you could say he never did. He's marrying her again."
Bennett stared at him, thunderstruck. "He's remarrying Estella Velasquez????"
"Yes," Benton agreed, laughing. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at Bennett with an expression of tolerance. "You seem overly surprised. Why?"
"You didn't know the Bannons when they were married the first time," Bennett replied. "Oh, they were happy enough at the beginning. But it didn't really last long. And I have to admit, I don't believe I have ever seen any couple that could fight the way those two could. Toward the end, it's all they did." Bennett shook his head ruefully. "I remember the night Estella asked him for the divorce. What a mess that was."
"He's told me about it," Benton replied.
Bennett snorted. "You think so? Somehow, I doubt it."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I don't think Bannon remembers 90% of that night. He was so wasted, it's almost a miracle he's still here."
"How do you know?"
"Because I was the one called in to deal with him!" Bennett exclaimed. He relaxed, laying his head on the high back of his chair, and gazed at the ceiling, momentarily lost in the past. "It must have been close to midnight when I got the call. I was just getting ready for bed. They were living in New York at the time . . . " Bennett snorted softly and said, as though to himself, " . . . if you could call their life style 'living together' . . . At any rate, the MPs called me. Bannon was down on the docks, raising all kinds of hell. He was drunk and belligerent and in a really mean temper. No one could reason with him. He'd already decked four MPs, had smashed up two bars, and was well on his way to doing it to a third one. The sergeant in charge was at his wit's end. Their only remaining choice was to mace him. But even then, Bannon had a reputation, and the MPs knew that he wouldn't go down without a fight and that people were bound to get hurt. Before they resorted to that, the sergeant called me to find out what I wanted him to do. I told them to back off . . . that I would be there just as quickly as I could."
Bennett sighed and shook his head. "He was a mess. Bannon was a hard man to get to know . . . always had been . . . but by that time I thought I knew him better than most. But I'd never seen him like that. He was so full of anger and pain that he was lashing out at anything that came near him. How long he'd been drinking was anyone's guess, but the alcohol didn't seem to be putting him out. It was just making him mean . . ."
"Race tends to keep a pretty tight lid on his emotions . . . even now," Benton commented quietly.
"Yes, he does," Bennett agreed. "But that doesn't mean they don't build up inside him. And when that lid blows . . . I saw another side of Race Bannon that night. When I walked into that bar, he was standing in the middle of the room like a statue. The MPs were surrounding him but keeping a healthy distance, and there were three unconscious on the floor against one wall. He must have seen the movement at the door, because he turned his head and stared at me." Benton saw an almost imperceptible shudder pass through Bennett's body. "It was not a . . . pleasant . . . look. He stared at me for a long time before he spoke. I still remember his exact words. 'YOU . . . you and your fucking job . . . You just can't leave me alone. Always something . . . something I have to do . . . something only I can do. You and your god-forsaken job has cost me everything, you bastard!' And then he came at me."
Bennett fell silent, reliving those moments, and after a while Benton wondered if the man would continue. Finally, Bennett said, "The only thing that saved me was that the alcohol had slowed him down and I was able to stay out of his reach. I tried to reason with him, but he was well beyond that. Finally, I told the MPs to call his wife . . . that maybe she could talk with him. And that stopped him in his tracks. 'No . . . NO, don't call her . . . don't call Stel . . . you can't do that to her . . . please.' He was literally begging. And suddenly he dropped to his knees and started to cry." Bennett's eyes looked haunted as he focused on Benton Quest for the first time in quite a while. "He just went to pieces. I had the MPs put him in my car, directed the sergeant to arrange with the owners of the bars to pay for the damages, and took Bannon back to my house. My wife and I sobered him up, got him cleaned up, and sent him home. But he didn't talk much. It was only later that I heard about the divorce. And it was then that I knew what had caused that night."
Bennett sighed deeply. "I don't know how much he remembers of that evening. I do know that he never touched alcohol much after that. And he changed . . . became colder . . . even more remote. Bannon had always been good, but after that night he became the most effective agent we had at I-1. But I have to admit . . . it wasn't an improvement. He was too controlled . . . strung too tightly . . . it was simply a question of when he would break. All of us knew that he couldn't keep up that way. It was one of the reasons he was assigned to you. You needed the kind of protection he could offer, and I hoped that a step away from the edge might help him regain some perspective." Bennett chucked suddenly, a bit ruefully. "I didn't anticipate that your son would break down the walls he erected around himself so completely." Bennett sighed again and shook his head. "I won't lie to you, Dr. Quest. Bannon's decision to leave I-1 and devote himself to Quest Enterprises was a blow to our organization. He was good and he has been missed. But speaking as a man . . . I'm glad it happened. Race Bannon needed a place of his own, and he found one here. I can't begrudge him that."
"What's more, Admiral, it gave him back his daughter . . . and in the end, it has given him back his wife." Benton's words were quiet and measured. "It's hard to rebuild after something that devastating. I know. But he has found a way to do it, and I'm glad you can be pleased about it. He is a good friend, and I'm glad to see him happy again."
"So am I, Dr. Quest. So am I." With a final sigh, Bennett straightened. "And speaking of Bannon, where is he? I'd like to talk with him before I leave."
Benton shook his head. "He's not here. He and Estella are down in Colombia closing down her current excavation. I expect him back on Tuesday or Wednesday."
Alarm flared in Bennett's eyes. "Not here? Then who's handling security on the facility while he's gone?"
Benton looked at Bennett in amusement. "Handling security? Admiral, we don't need anyone to handle security. Race's systems are extensive and function quite well even when he isn't here. And Race has trained all three of our children as well as myself. We are all perfectly capable of defending ourselves in the event of a sudden crisis. I assure you, we are quite safe."
Much to Benton's surprise, Bennett remained unconvinced. "Dr. Quest, I know how sensitive your work is. And how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands. It was the reason Race was assigned to you in the first place." Bennett was silent for a moment before finishing softly, as if to himself, "To leave you alone and unprotected now is highly risky."
Benton looked at his visitor with growing unease. The unconscious emphasis on the 'now' in Bennett's last comment had not escaped him. "Admiral, is there something going on that I should know about?"
Bennett's attention abruptly snapped back to the scientist. "Going on? No . . . no, there's nothing going on. I just think it's unwise to leave you here, unprotected." As though coming to some private decision, he straightened suddenly and said, "I'll see that a man from I-1 is dispatched immediately. He can ensure Compound security until Bannon returns. Maybe I'll even assign him here for an extended period. Added security can't hurt . . ."
"No."
"Dr. Quest, this is not . . ."
"I said, no, Admiral." Benton's voice had gone cold again and his expression was hard. "We have been through this before. I do not want strangers in my home. I only agreed to Race all those years ago because Jonny was so small and I couldn't continue my work and protect him as well. But now Race is a permanent member of my household, my sons are grown, and Race's daughter is here as well. I have all of the protection I need. Compound security is in place and fully functional and I am not alone. Furthermore, Race and Estella will be here in a few days. I don't require anyone else.
"But . . ."
"There are no 'buts', Admiral." Benton eyed the other man calculatingly. "Unless you can give me some specific cause for concern?"
Bennett hesitated for an instant, then slowly shook his head. "No. Nothing in particular." He looked at the scientist in exasperation as he rose from his chair. "Not that a particular reason would have made a damned bit of difference, would it?"
Benton grinned at him as he rose, and the two men moved toward the front door of the house. "No, it wouldn't. But I do appreciate the offer, Admiral." Benton watched as Bennett got into his car and rolled down the window. "Tell Isaac that I'll give him a call and let him know when I'll be able to get there."
"All right," Bennett replied, "just please make it as soon as possible, Dr. Quest. We really do need any help you can provide."
"I will, Admiral. As soon after Christmas as I possibly can." Benton raised a hand in a gesture of farewell as Bennett started his car. "Drive carefully."
Bennett nodded, and waved as he pulled away. Benton watched thoughtfully as the car disappeared into the trees. Something was going on . . . something to do with VR interfaces. He'd bet on it. Benton frowned as he stepped back in the house and closed the door behind him. "IRIS, secure the Compound, please. And let's go to a level one status . . . just to be safe. No harm in being cautious."
"ACKNOWLEDGED," the computer replied quietly. "LEVEL ONE STATUS IMPLEMENTED. ALL SYSTEMS CLEAR. COMPOUND SECURE."
"Thank you," he replied automatically. He hated to lie to Bennett, but after long discussion, both he and Race had decided that QuestWorld technology was not something that should be in the hands of the military . . . ANY military. The potential for misuse was just too great. Benton sighed and stood listening to the silence for a long moment. Suddenly, he felt very isolated and alone. He would be very glad when Race got back . . .
Excavation Site
Jungles of Colombia
Race Bannon took one look at his future wife and very carefully moved back a few steps. He had known Estella Velasquez for a long time and he wasn't sure he had ever seen her this angry. She was rigid in her chair, face flushed, eyes darkened until they were almost black, and hands clenched into fists so tightly that the skin over the knuckles was white.
The table where she sat was covered with a jumbled of wadded-up newspapers, plastic bubble wrap, small cardboard boxes and Styrofoam shipping popcorn. In a clear spot at the center of all the mess, sat six objects. There were two ornately carved figurines about 6" tall depicting part-human, part-serpent figures, a beautifully-painted shallow bowl about 4" in diameter, a double-spouted pitcher about 7" tall, a gold necklace and a pair of large, disc-like earrings, decorated with small, colored stones.
The target of Estella's anger stood on the opposite side of the table, about five feet away. His handsome face wore an expression of amused contempt, and the insolence in his voice was clear as he said, "It must be one of the workmen."
Estella's face flushed an even darker red as she struggled desperately to hold her temper. Finally, she grated, "One of the workmen? Then how do you explain this being found in your tent?"
Ruben Calderone shrugged negligently. "I cannot say. Perhaps someone has a grudge against me and put it in my tent in an effort to get me into trouble."
"But I thought you were so well liked by the workmen, Ruben." Estella responded sarcastically. Then her expression became thoughtful. "Although, I noticed that situation does appear to have changed while I was away. Tell me, Ruben, what did you do to alienate the workmen?" Ruben didn't bother to answer. But as Estella leaned back in her chair, Race could see that she had her temper in check. She smiled at the young man in front of her and shrugged negligently. "Not that it matters. They will tell me soon enough once you are gone."
Ruben grinned openly. "You cannot fire me. You have tried this before and the museum would not let you. My family's money is more important than your opinions."
Estella returned the smile, her expression hardening. "True, they overrode my wishes originally. But they didn't this time. The Office for Antiquities and Cultural Heritage has been putting pressure on the Museum since I reported that items from this dig have been disappearing. And they aren't about to condone maintaining a thief as an employee on the dig."
Ruben's insolent grin disappeared abruptly. "You cannot prove that!"
"Oh, I think I can," Estella replied coldly. She pushed some crumpled newspaper out of the way and picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying hidden under the clutter. She perused it before she began to read,
Lewis,
Hola! Como esta? Things are going well here. Work is winding down and the dig is packing up. I had hoped to get more out of it, but La Diabla Rojo has decided to shut it down early. The take has not been bad, though, so I will not complain.
There was some trouble at this end, but my family took care of it. The she-witch got a real lesson in power and influence, to be sure. It was quite amusing. She has since resigned, so it should not be a problem to pick up where we left off when excavation resumes. With La Diabla Rojo and her partner out of the way, things should go much more smoothly. Bannon is too sharp . . . he is the main reason the take is so small this time.
The package should be en route shortly. Contact our friend and set up a meeting. The end of next week should do well. See you soon.
R.
Estella laid the paper down on the table in front of her and cast a coldly humorous look at the young man standing in front of her. "La Diabla Rojo? The Red Devil . . . well, I'm flattered. It's good to know that Race and I were a detriment to your endeavors. But this . . . " she picked up the paper and shook it gently, " . . . this was stupid, Ruben. And it will be your permanent undoing."
Ruben Calderone leaned forward abruptly and snatched at the sheet of paper in Estella's hand. "Give that to me! That is personal . . . you have no right . . ."
Estella flicked it out of his reach as Race grabbed Ruben by the shoulder and jerked him away from Estella. Ruben pivoted and lashed out at the older man viciously. Race blocked the blow deftly, grabbed Ruben's arm and twisted it up behind his back, pinning him securely against the table with his body.
"It is very dangerous to threaten Estella or my daughter, Ruben. It tends to make me testy," Race warned him softly.
Estella watched as Ruben's eyes widened and he visibly began to sweat. Briefly, she wondered at the violence of his reaction. It seemed excessive for the situation.
"I . . . I am sorry, Señor Bannon!" Ruben sputtered. "It was an accident. I . . . I was upset. I would never have done such a thing if I had not been provoked. It will not happen again . . . I swear it! I have promised Jessie . . ."
Race and Estella exchanged startled looks. Jessie knew about this and didn't say anything?
"It only happened the one time," Ruben insisted again, sounding frantic. "And I swore to her on my family's honor, that it would never happen again. Please, Dr. Velasquez . . ." the young man begged.
For an instant, Estella hesitated, a soft, inner voice warning her that something was going on here that she didn't understand. Finally, she said, "Race, let him go." Abruptly, Race released the young man and Ruben collapsed forward onto the table, barely missing the precious objects lying to one side. Estella rose hastily and gathered up the items, placing them on a worktable behind her. Then she turned back to the young man who had straightened and was standing on the other side of the table again.
"You will leave here . . . now. Since you have your own personal transport, this shouldn't be a problem. I've faxed a copy of this letter along with a letter explaining the circumstances of the discovery to both the Museum and the Office of Antiquities and Cultural Heritage. The Museum has already confirmed your dismissal. What the OACH will choose to do, I have no idea, but I doubt they will be pleased."
Ruben Calderone turned to leave, but Estella stopped him. "Ruben . . ." He turned back to her warily. "You also need to know that I will be notifying UCLA and your department chair of this incident. I suspect you will be hearing from the Student Affairs Office very soon."
"Of course," he replied venomously. "I would expect no less of El Diabla." The final look he gave both of them was filled with hatred, as he turned and stormed out of the tent.
A heavy silence filled the tent as Estella sat down once again, drained after the confrontation. Outside, she could hear the sounds of the workmen calling cheerfully as they worked on closing down the excavation site. Finally, Estella sighed deeply, her shoulders slumped, and simply said, "Shit."
Race crossed the tent and came to stand behind her. Catching her shoulders, he drew her back to lean against him and began to massage the knotted muscles gently. "There was nothing else you could do, Stel. You couldn't allow him to continue looting the site. Or any other, for that matter."
"I know," she replied. "But it's such a waste. He was so talented. He had the right instincts and a feel for the work. He could have been one of the best. And now he'll never be anything at all."
"I know," Race replied consolingly. The pair were quiet for a few minutes, allowing the impact of the confrontation to fade slightly. After awhile, Race asked hesitantly, "Stel, did you get any peculiar vibes from that exchange?"
Estella looked up at him, worry clouding her green eyes briefly. "You mean, like maybe we didn't know everything there was to know?"
"Yeah," Race replied, staring sightlessly at the closed tent flap. "That's exactly what I meant."
"He certainly implied Jessie knew something. And looking back on it now, I could swear Jessie was avoiding him during the last day or so she was here. I thought at the time that it was just the stress of fighting with Jonny, but now I'm not so sure."
"She didn't say anything to you at the time?"
Estella sat forward, shaking her head. "No. Those last few days she was very quiet."
"I can't believe she wouldn't have told you if she knew anything."
"I can't either." She sighed again and rose, turning to the worktable behind her.
Race settled into a chair as Estella began to repack the objects that had been found in Ruben's tent. Estella eyed him warily. "Don't you think you should be sure Ruben leaves without causing any trouble?"
Race stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back comfortably, grinning at her. "I don't have to. Nathan and five workmen were waiting for him right outside the tent. With any luck, Nathan will see that he gets away with no damage. And I mean 'damage' in terms of visible bruising to Ruben's precious person."
Estella shook her head. "I can't figure out what he could have done to make the workmen so angry. I would swear they all liked him before we left."
Race shrugged. "From what I've been able to glean from Nathan and the workmen, Ruben did a regular Jekyl and Hyde personality change as soon as we left. Drove the men relentlessly in the heat, worked them 14-16 hour days, refused some of them food if he thought they weren't working hard enough. No one could control him, not even Nathan, who was supposedly in charge. But he knew the limits . . . how far he could go and still not totally alienate the Museum. Nathan said he complained to the Board several times about Ruben's behavior but they just brushed him off."
Estella grunted in disgust. "Of course they did! They wanted the Calderone's money. And look at what their greed netted them . . . I doubt we'll ever know exactly how much he got away with from this site."
"Surely the inventory will tell you."
"Only if he took logged pieces," she pointed out. "You know as well as I do that he would have been caught long before this if that's what he'd been doing. For a field site, our security here is exceptional." She smiled at him lovingly. "Thanks to you."
Race savored that look, still a bit dazed at having it turned on him again after all these years. "You're welcome." A slight frown flickered across his face. "Maybe that's what Jessie discovered. Maybe she caught him with an unlogged piece, and he convinced her it was the first time he had ever done it and swore he wouldn't do it again, if she didn't report it."
"Maybe." Estella replied thoughtfully as she closed the packing crate. "Doesn't sound like her, though. You know how much she hates grave robbers and antiquity thieves. I don't know. I'll talk with her about it when we get home."
"Speaking of our beloved daughter, what do you hear from her?"
Race rose and took the packed box from Estella, adding it to the others waiting to be loaded on the plane, as she laughed. "All she can talk about is the wedding. I got a five-page e-mail from her this morning outlining the status of all the arrangements. It actually sounds like she's got everything well in hand."
"I was under the impression this was going to be a small, quiet affair."
"Small . . .yes. Quiet . . . relatively. But done right . . . absolutely, even if it kills her!"
"But . . ."
"Don't fuss, Race," Estella chided him gently. "She's having a wonderful time. And in a way, I think it makes up for a lot in her mind. Let her plan and organize to her heart's content if it makes her happy."
"You're right," he sighed. "Although, I have to admit, when you said you wanted a small wedding I envisioned a minister, Benton and the kids in the family room at home."
Estella laughed. "Well, so did I. But I won't knock 25-30 people in a chapel. And if she wants attendants, gowns, flowers, music, and a reception, I don't mind. Furthermore," she grinned at him mischievously, "it's good practice for her."
Race stopped dead. "What do you mean 'good practice'?" She laughed at his expression. "What's going on? What do you know?" His voice rose in agitation as she laughed harder. "No! She's too young . . . she's just a baby. She can't . . ."
"Calm down!" Estella gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "Men! She is not a baby any longer, Race. She's a young woman . . . and a very sensible one. Jessie and I talked about it a little before you and I left for Colombia, and she assures me there are no wedding plans in the works for anytime in the near future. She made vague comments about after the two of them finish school, but even that's a bit up in the air."
"Oh . . . well . . . " Race said, slightly mollified. After a minute he added plaintively, "Where did the time go, Stel? It seems like she was just born yesterday."
Estella reached over and squeezed his hand gently. "I know. Time moves so fast. But there's nothing we can do about that. However, we can be very proud of her." She smiled at him. " . . . of both of them. You had a large role in raising Jonny, too, and he's a fine young man."
"Yes, he is. And for all that it makes me nervous sometimes, you know how I feel about their relationship." Looking around, he changed the subject abruptly, "So where are we here?"
"That's a good question," she replied briskly. "These should be the last of the artifact boxes. I've numbered each of them and a detailed list of the contents is right here." She handed him a 4" x 6" field notebook. "These all need to go to Nathan to be placed in the security enclosure."
Race shook his head. "With the trouble we've had with theft, I don't want to risk holding on to this stuff any longer. I've had Nathan shift all of it to the plane. Once the last of it is loaded, I'm flying it to the Museum. They'll offload it and put it directly into the vault."
"Good idea. We're making good progress, I think. We still need to seal the tombs we've been working in, transfer over all the surveyed grid lines to fixed markers, and pack up the equipment."
Race nodded. "Very good progress. We should be out of here by Monday . . . Tuesday at the latest."
Estella sighed. "It can't be too soon. I'm ready to go home."
"Home?" Race grinned at her.
"Home," she agreed firmly.