The next morning was a horribly confusing affair. Turned out, a seven-o'clock breakfast meeting had been scheduled for the "bedroom." Rumpled and yawning, the Hardys, Lach and the boys were evicted. The agents in charge of the Wassa case were not in, and, in their fatigued state the night before, had neglected to leave notes for the secretaries and managers. Much room-shuffling was done before Agents O'Leery and Herschel were contacted and arrived at work. They ate breakfast, eventually, and it was ten-thirty before everything had calmed down. O'Leery was in the process of informing a safe house of the imminent arrival of the James party when Herschel received some distressing information. It took him half an hour to verify its truthfulness, and then he ordered another meeting.
"I have some bad news," he began, and took a deep breath. "We just a got a report from our field agents in the Middle East… Five of them disappeared last night, which was this morning for them. They were on the verge of a big discovery… It's early yet, but we're figuring that somebody must have turned, become a double agent, reported their progress to Wassa. Our remaining agents are working furiously, and we're sending out more to join them, and trying to be discreet about it. Anyway, two of the missing agents are David and Ruth James."
Lachlan knew she should have been shocked and horrified, but too much had hit her recently, and she simply nodded, to confirm that she'd heard the news. She turned to the boys – her boys, she had been thinking of them lately – and gauged their reactions. Michael looked so terribly sad. Patrick seemed a little confused. He'd been through so much lately that he didn't have the wherewithal to understand what had just happened. Lach saw Fenton moving to sit beside him, so she slid nearer to Michael and hugged him tightly.
Ten days had passed and, for once, the news was good. The number of agents working the case had increased fivefold, and they were working around the clock. They didn't take kindly to fellow agents being kidnapped. The mole had been ferreted out and fed disinformation and, as a result, the Boston end of the Wassa ring was imploding. Several minor arrests had taken place, and more were sure to come. It was decided that before the week was up, Lachlan would be able to fly home and deal with her vacant house and her parents' belongings. She was not looking forward to the trip, but she knew it had to be done. She'd had a chance to talk to Frank privately, and had asked him something.
"Frank. You know how I'm going back home soon… Would you… would you go with me, please?" she asked, looking down at the floor.
Frank studied the top of Lach's head. "Of course, Lachlan."
Lachlan breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Because… well, then you can meet my friends back home and stuff."
Frank nodded, knowing that that wasn't the real reason, knowing that Lach was actually afraid to be alone. "Right."
The plane touched down at eight-thirty a.m., local time. Mechanically, Lachlan rose from her seat, grabbed her carry-on from the overhead compartment, and filed off the plane behind Frank.
Customs and baggage claiming were mercifully quick, and soon they were walking towards Arrivals. Lachlan stopped dead, realized she was blocking the corridor, and motioned to Frank to move to the side. She slumped down on the luggage cart.
"I can't do this," she said, resting her forehead in her hand. "Let's get back on that plane and return to New York."
Frank reached out and gently took her free hand. "Lachlan, this is something you have to do. We're staying with your best friend's family. You've known them since you were little. Don't be afraid of them –"
"I'm not afraid," interjected Lach.
"Well, be glad to see them, anyways," Frank went on, undeterred. "You haven't seen them in over two months. I know it's not under the best of circumstances, but at least be glad to see them, all right? For their sake, if not for yours."
"Their sake?" queried Lach, wrinkling her nose.
"Yes, their sake. If you act… depressed this week, they're going to worry about you a lot for the rest of the summer. They're going to really try to convince you to stay here, whereas if you seem to be coping well, then their summer won't be ruined by constant worry. They'll still want you to stay here, of course, but they'll understand that you'll be fine in Bayport," Frank explained, hoping Lach wouldn't pick up on the selfish motive he'd voiced.
Lach considered. "I still don't like it."
A laugh. "Nobody said you had to like it."
Lach rose to her feet and sighed. She hugged Frank for a moment, then got behind the cart, but hesitated a moment before pushing it. She reflected on the Hardys and the Jameses, and wondered when – and if – David and Ruth would return home. She thought about not returning to university in the fall, about staying with Michale and Patrick. From what she'd heard over the past few days, undercover agents were often in place for years. Lach imagined Patrick as a teenager, Michael graduating form high school, her marrying a Hardy brother…
"Earth to Lachlan." Frank's voice interrupted her reverie. "Lach?" Renewed concern showed on his face. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah, I was just thinking." She felt her cheeks warm, and ducked her head and shoved at the cart and hoped Frank wouldn't notice her red face.
She scanned the crowd in Arrivals, searching for the Courtenays. Because they'd stopped and talked, the other four hundred passengers had got ahead of them, and the room was sheer bedlam.
"Lachlan! Lachlan!" She turned, and was almost bowled over by Will Courtenay.
"Hello!" she gasped, breathing shallowly, due to Will's tight embrace. Then she was bearhugged by his parents.
Finally, Lach was free and she began the introductions.
"You what!" exclaimed Frank into the telephone, causing Lachlan, Will, and Will's younger brother, Rob, to turn and stare.
"No! I don't care what Dad says, you aren't –" He was cut off by Joe, on the other end. "Wait until Friday. It can't be – no!" Frank's normally calm demeanour had been thrown out the window. "Joe! Listen to me. You can't – Joe!"
"Give that to me," ordered Lach, holding out her hand. Frank wasn't paying attention to her, and Lach snatched the phone from his ear.
"Joe? It's me, Lachlan. Tell me whatever you told Frank."
Frank stared at her, then looked at Will and Rob. They shrugged.
"What happened?" asked Will.
"Joe says he's going to –"
"Quiet!" hissed Lach, and Frank stopped and threw his hand sin the air in frustration.
There was along silence as Lach listened to Joe speak. "I'm going, too," she said eventually.
"No," said Frank firmly.
Lach motioned for him to be quiet. She apparently was arguing with Joe. "It's my parents who died," she said. "My interest in this is a little more vested than yours." A pause, then: "All right, I'll convince your dad." Lach covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked pointedly at Frank. "I'm going, Joe's going, you and your dad are going. We fly back tonight."
"What!" exclaimed both Courtenays, immediately beginning to protest. Lach silenced them with a glare, then turned back to the phone. Several minutes later, she hung up.
"Here's the plan," she announced. "The Agency isn't thrilled by our presence in the investigation, but I bet that isn't new to you guys," she said to Frank. "We fly to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. We join some tour group, the Agency's still arranging it with the American embassy. Where the Wassa activity has been observed there, is very near the hotel we'll be staying at. We'll have some free time – we're supposed to explore as much as we can. Our covers are going to show us as being really into Arabic architecture or something, so that we can maybe get away with investigating lots of buildings. They've got some buildings that they're suspicious about… they figure their kidnapped agents are being held in the area. So, Frank, let's pack."
Will alone drove them to the airport that evening. Frank and Lach checked their luggage and paid their airport taxes and then stood awkwardly with Will, waiting to say goodbye.
"We didn't finish cleaning out your house," said Will accusingly.
"Your mom said she'd do the rest," answered Lach.
"I bet the lawyers will come up with more papers for you to sign."
"Your dad said I've signed all that I need to. If more turn up, he can sign them."
Will didn't respond. Frank wished he were anywhere but here. He turned and watched the masses of humanity pour through the airport.
"What are we going to do with all the stuff you're going to keep? It can't stay in our basement forever," said Will in a somewhat belligerent tone.
"We've been through all this already," said Lachlan, her patience wearing thin despite her determination to avoid an argument.
"Who's going to take care of your precious Michael and Patrick?" Will went on.
Lach looked at him. "Picking a fight isn't going to make saying goodbye any easier."
Will glared at her for a moment longer, then threw his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.
Frank glanced back at Will and Lach for a moment, then turned to watch other tearful goodbyes.
Lachlan Nolan was sick of Sarah Edwards. Sarah was a second-year college student from Seattle, Washington, and studying architecture and interior design. She was outgoing and naïve and cheerful, and Lach was exhausted from being Sarah Edwards. Sarah was blond and wore her hair in a bun.
Joe liked the bun. Lach's jawline appeared more prominent than usual when her hair was pulled back, and she was striking, except when she was dressed in pyjamas, like now.
"I think I caught a bug," Sarah said. "I wish I could go back to bed. But I don't want to miss seeing anything, either," Lach went on, managing to insert some enthusiasm into her tone.
The tour group was eating breakfast in their hotel.
Frank was sitting a table away from Lach and eavesdropping on her conversation with Megan Morrissey, a member of the tour with whom Sarah had made friends.
Frank turned in his chair. "Hey, Sarah, I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying. I'm feeling pretty run-down, too. We could stay back here for a bit, rest up, then maybe go exploring on our own, if we feel up to it. That way, we can return here at any time."
Lach wanted to nod immediately, but Sarah considered a moment before speaking. "Sure, Spencer, sounds good. Why don't you come sit with us? No need for you to sit alone and read the paper. This is a vacation, and on vacations you're supposed to get away from the rat race," she said, jabbing a finger at the New York Times in Spencer's hands.
Frank smiled and pulled out a chair.
It was nine o'clock, and the tour group had got off easily enough. They had urged Spencer and Sarah to join them, but their minds would not be changed.
Frank and Lach sat in the room Spencer shared with Josh Durant, another of the group.
"Well, we've been just about everywhere in this city," said Lachlan, "and I ain't seen anything suspicious in the least."
"I have."
Lach rose to her feet. "What? Where?"
"Very near the U.S. Embassy. D'you remember the building, the one that was built as a hotel and then converted to a mansion?"
"'Course I do, I'm an architecture student, aren't I?" She sat.
Frank grinned. "I'd rather not be Spencer Maxwell, the next Alan Greenspan, either. Anyways, a couple of the security guards looked familiar; I think I saw them in the files we studied on the plane ride over."
Lach was standing again. "What are we waiting for?"
"You to put on some real clothes."
Lach smiled. "See you downstairs in five."