Chapter 8
"Miss Desmond is in room 512." The petite, blonde nurse closed the duty register and smiled at Lee, her green eyes drifting from his face to the colorful bouquet of chrysanthemums, gripped loosely in his right hand, and back upward again. "The doctor hasn't placed any restrictions on visitors, but she may still be a bit groggy from her medication."
Lee was only vaguely aware of the young woman's appreciative scrutiny. "Thanks," he said, offering her a distracted smile before he set off down the hospital corridor, his eyes scanning the painted gold numbers as he sought his destination.
Finally coming to a halt, he paused to take a few deep breaths and run his fingers through his tousled hair. As he pushed open the thick door of the private room, his heart raced, beating against his ribs in painful anticipation.
She was facing the window, her respiration steady and shallow, and he spent a moment studying her profile. Billy had assured him she was fine, but he hadn't been quite able to banish the nightmarish images without seeing her for himself, safe and well.
She didn't stir when he took several slow steps into the room, his footsteps falling soundlessly on the tiled floor. "You didn't think you could sneak up on me, did you?" Her voice resonated with suppressed emotion as she turned to regard him, her expression a mixture of sadness and relief.
"No." He shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. "I can't even sneak up on you when you're not expecting me, and you knew I'd be here the minute it was over." Drinking in her delicate features, he felt some of the tension finally drain from his body, leaving him almost lightheaded. "The last couple of days have been hell," he added quietly.
"They haven't exactly been fun for me, either. I don't like hospitals any more than you do."
Unable to restrain himself a moment longer, he crossed the remaining space between them in three long strides, dropping the flowers into a vinyl chair at the edge of the standard hospital bed. Gently pulling her upright, he wrapped his arms around her in a crushing embrace as he buried his face in her dark hair. "I know, but Billy couldn't risk putting you in one of the Agency safe houses," he murmured. "This was the only way to prevent a leak."
"I'm just glad it's over." she sighed, her words muffled against his jacket as she relaxed against him.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice unsteady. Loosening his embrace, he put two fingers under her chin and raised her head to search the depths of her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, holding her a short distance from him, his hands sliding upward to grip her shoulders and allow him to study every inch of her.
"Just a tiny bruise where that stray bullet hit my vest and knocked the wind out of me," she said, unconsciously rubbing one palm across her rib cage, her eyes never leaving his.
The fingers of his right hand reached out to join hers, lightly brushing the sensitive area, and he frowned when she winced faintly at his touch.
"A little bruise?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking upward.
"Well, maybe a medium-sized bruise," she conceded with a lopsided smile. "But it could have been a lot worse. Dr. Smyth's plan sounded simple enough, but he couldn't predict what was going to happen when you showed up at the warehouse. We didn't know how many Russian agents might be there, and Russert didn't even know that Dr. Smyth had told you to follow us. It could have been chaotic, and someone could have been killed." She gave a small shrug, her lips forming into a tiny pout, as she waved toward a stack of dog-eared magazines on the night stand. "As it turned out, the only real pain I've been suffering is boredom. I've been going stir-crazy with nothing to do but sleep, read . . . and worry about you."
Lee nodded his understanding as he pulled her back into his arms. "I've been going crazy, too. Billy promised me you were all right, but he warned me that if I came within two miles of this place, or tried to call, he'd have me locked up in one of the Agency holding cells until after the hearing."
"Tell me about it," she requested solemnly. "Billy told me Harold Whiting was arrested, but he didn't give me any details."
Lee shook his head, still feeling a tinge of disbelief over Whiting's dereliction. "There's not much to tell. He let it slip that he knew you were carrying the information on a disk, and then he panicked and pretty much fell apart. He's been blubbering to Billy and Dr. Smyth for the past hour, trying to save his miserable skin."
"Did he say why he did it?" Amanda asked, lifting her head from his shoulder and regarding him with a troubled frown. "He seemed like such a nice little man, always so polite and unassuming. He was the last person I would have suspected of selling out."
Lee sighed, brushing his lips tenderly across his wife's and then sinking down on the bed, pulling her onto his lap and folding his arms around her. "Apparently, he got into some gambling trouble years ago, when he was a clerk in the payroll section. He embezzled a few thousand dollars to cover his debts and then went on the straight and narrow. It probably would never have come back to haunt him if Dr. Smyth hadn't appointed him Chief of Internal Operations fifteen months ago, after Karl Eagles was arrested during the King Cobra investigation. A low level mole in Internal Operations started blackmailing him, first asking for small bits of routine information and gradually working up to bigger and better things. By the time the S.D.I. project came up, Whiting was in so far he couldn't refuse."
"You didn't come through this completely unscathed," she said, a hint of concern shadowing her eyes as she reached up to touch a small abrasion on his cheek. "And the hearing had to be awful. I wish they hadn't put you through that."
"This little scrape is nothing." Ducking away, he caught her hand and placed a tender kiss into the palm. "The hearing was bad," he added with a shrug, "but it was almost worth two hours of torture to see the look on Dirk Fredericks' face when Dr. Smyth told him the whole thing was a ruse and there weren't any real charges against me." He paused to relish that memory and smiled devilishly. "Besides which, Billy gave us the entire weekend off. Since your mother and the boys won't be home from Maine until Sunday night, we should have plenty of time to recover from our ordeal."
Amanda's gaze flitted to the bouquet laying forgotten in the bedside chair. "I guess Francine got the worst end of this, getting stuck in the crossfire again."
"The bullet barely grazed her," he said, bending his head to nuzzle the sensitive skin of her neck, "but if you'd rather stick around the hospital to keep her company . . . ."
Amanda smiled mischievously, tilting her head to one side as though considering her course of action. "She gets the flowers, and I get almost forty-eight hours of being Mrs. Stetson. I guess that's a compromise I can live with."
"There really is justice in the world," he agreed just before his lips captured hers.
The End
"Miss Desmond is in room 512." The petite, blonde nurse closed the duty register and smiled at Lee, her green eyes drifting from his face to the colorful bouquet of chrysanthemums, gripped loosely in his right hand, and back upward again. "The doctor hasn't placed any restrictions on visitors, but she may still be a bit groggy from her medication."
Lee was only vaguely aware of the young woman's appreciative scrutiny. "Thanks," he said, offering her a distracted smile before he set off down the hospital corridor, his eyes scanning the painted gold numbers as he sought his destination.
Finally coming to a halt, he paused to take a few deep breaths and run his fingers through his tousled hair. As he pushed open the thick door of the private room, his heart raced, beating against his ribs in painful anticipation.
She was facing the window, her respiration steady and shallow, and he spent a moment studying her profile. Billy had assured him she was fine, but he hadn't been quite able to banish the nightmarish images without seeing her for himself, safe and well.
She didn't stir when he took several slow steps into the room, his footsteps falling soundlessly on the tiled floor. "You didn't think you could sneak up on me, did you?" Her voice resonated with suppressed emotion as she turned to regard him, her expression a mixture of sadness and relief.
"No." He shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. "I can't even sneak up on you when you're not expecting me, and you knew I'd be here the minute it was over." Drinking in her delicate features, he felt some of the tension finally drain from his body, leaving him almost lightheaded. "The last couple of days have been hell," he added quietly.
"They haven't exactly been fun for me, either. I don't like hospitals any more than you do."
Unable to restrain himself a moment longer, he crossed the remaining space between them in three long strides, dropping the flowers into a vinyl chair at the edge of the standard hospital bed. Gently pulling her upright, he wrapped his arms around her in a crushing embrace as he buried his face in her dark hair. "I know, but Billy couldn't risk putting you in one of the Agency safe houses," he murmured. "This was the only way to prevent a leak."
"I'm just glad it's over." she sighed, her words muffled against his jacket as she relaxed against him.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice unsteady. Loosening his embrace, he put two fingers under her chin and raised her head to search the depths of her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, holding her a short distance from him, his hands sliding upward to grip her shoulders and allow him to study every inch of her.
"Just a tiny bruise where that stray bullet hit my vest and knocked the wind out of me," she said, unconsciously rubbing one palm across her rib cage, her eyes never leaving his.
The fingers of his right hand reached out to join hers, lightly brushing the sensitive area, and he frowned when she winced faintly at his touch.
"A little bruise?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking upward.
"Well, maybe a medium-sized bruise," she conceded with a lopsided smile. "But it could have been a lot worse. Dr. Smyth's plan sounded simple enough, but he couldn't predict what was going to happen when you showed up at the warehouse. We didn't know how many Russian agents might be there, and Russert didn't even know that Dr. Smyth had told you to follow us. It could have been chaotic, and someone could have been killed." She gave a small shrug, her lips forming into a tiny pout, as she waved toward a stack of dog-eared magazines on the night stand. "As it turned out, the only real pain I've been suffering is boredom. I've been going stir-crazy with nothing to do but sleep, read . . . and worry about you."
Lee nodded his understanding as he pulled her back into his arms. "I've been going crazy, too. Billy promised me you were all right, but he warned me that if I came within two miles of this place, or tried to call, he'd have me locked up in one of the Agency holding cells until after the hearing."
"Tell me about it," she requested solemnly. "Billy told me Harold Whiting was arrested, but he didn't give me any details."
Lee shook his head, still feeling a tinge of disbelief over Whiting's dereliction. "There's not much to tell. He let it slip that he knew you were carrying the information on a disk, and then he panicked and pretty much fell apart. He's been blubbering to Billy and Dr. Smyth for the past hour, trying to save his miserable skin."
"Did he say why he did it?" Amanda asked, lifting her head from his shoulder and regarding him with a troubled frown. "He seemed like such a nice little man, always so polite and unassuming. He was the last person I would have suspected of selling out."
Lee sighed, brushing his lips tenderly across his wife's and then sinking down on the bed, pulling her onto his lap and folding his arms around her. "Apparently, he got into some gambling trouble years ago, when he was a clerk in the payroll section. He embezzled a few thousand dollars to cover his debts and then went on the straight and narrow. It probably would never have come back to haunt him if Dr. Smyth hadn't appointed him Chief of Internal Operations fifteen months ago, after Karl Eagles was arrested during the King Cobra investigation. A low level mole in Internal Operations started blackmailing him, first asking for small bits of routine information and gradually working up to bigger and better things. By the time the S.D.I. project came up, Whiting was in so far he couldn't refuse."
"You didn't come through this completely unscathed," she said, a hint of concern shadowing her eyes as she reached up to touch a small abrasion on his cheek. "And the hearing had to be awful. I wish they hadn't put you through that."
"This little scrape is nothing." Ducking away, he caught her hand and placed a tender kiss into the palm. "The hearing was bad," he added with a shrug, "but it was almost worth two hours of torture to see the look on Dirk Fredericks' face when Dr. Smyth told him the whole thing was a ruse and there weren't any real charges against me." He paused to relish that memory and smiled devilishly. "Besides which, Billy gave us the entire weekend off. Since your mother and the boys won't be home from Maine until Sunday night, we should have plenty of time to recover from our ordeal."
Amanda's gaze flitted to the bouquet laying forgotten in the bedside chair. "I guess Francine got the worst end of this, getting stuck in the crossfire again."
"The bullet barely grazed her," he said, bending his head to nuzzle the sensitive skin of her neck, "but if you'd rather stick around the hospital to keep her company . . . ."
Amanda smiled mischievously, tilting her head to one side as though considering her course of action. "She gets the flowers, and I get almost forty-eight hours of being Mrs. Stetson. I guess that's a compromise I can live with."
"There really is justice in the world," he agreed just before his lips captured hers.
The End
