Friday, October 30, 1987

2:35 p.m.

"Well, if you ask me, she should have known what she was letting herself in for.  The man's reputation was legendary.  Ask anyone in the steno pool."

"Oh, come on, cut her some slack.  I certainly wouldn't put Mrs. King in the same class with the steno pool."

I sucked in a breath and shifted the folders to my left arm.  I'd been about to enter the break room when their voices stopped me.  Common sense told me to walk away, but some perverse curiosity rooted me in place.

"That didn't seem to make much difference to Scarecrow.  Still, I suppose he was worth it.  The man's absolutely delicious."

"But to leave her to raise a baby all by herself . . ."  Someone sighed.  "I never pegged Scarecrow as a man who'd run out on his own child.  It's not his style."

"Do you think that's why he transferred to the London office so suddenly?"  The question was accompanied by a low, throaty chuckle.  "Maybe the baby wasn't his."

I couldn't decide if I should laugh or cry.  Though gossip had been rampant at the Agency since my condition had become apparent, I'd never heard it taken to quite this level before.  Squelching the urge to flee, I squared my shoulders and pushed through the door.

The conversation stopped abruptly. 

"Oh, uh, hi, Mrs. King," the petite blonde muttered, almost apologetically.  It was Carla from accounting, the administrator who'd helped me sort through the mix-up over the King Cobra paycheck the previous year.  She'd told me at the time how much she admired the way I'd handled the threat on my life. 

At least she had the good grace now to pretend to be embarrassed over her remarks.  Her cohort, on the other hand, shot me a condescending smile.  I should have known that saccharine voice belonged to Judy Jerome.  We'd been in the same freshman agent class, and she'd always been jealous of what she termed my "preferential" status.  Evidently her plum assignment to European Operations had done little to quell the green-eyed monster.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mrs. King?" she asked, feigning innocence.  "Oh, that's right, I forgot.  You probably can't drink coffee in your condition, can you?"

The door to the break room slammed shut behind me.   "I believe they're waiting for you on level eight, Judy," Francine said, her angry voice filling the small room.  She planted her hands on her hips as she shot Judy a glance that would have withered the bravest heart.  "Thompson is looking everywhere for you."

The rookie swallowed hard as she struggled to avoid the senior agent's blazing eyes.  "Yeah, sure.  I was just on my way over there."

"Then I suggest you get moving.  You, too, Carla.  I'm sure you have some numbers somewhere that need adding or subtracting."

Judy and Carla both skittered from the room.  I shook my head in amazement; Francine Desmond in "Mama Bear" mode was an awesome sight to behold.  "Are you okay?" she asked, her tone gentler as she turned her attention to me. 

"Yeah, I'm fine."  To my dismay, my voice broke.  "Sorry.  I'm usually better at handling that stuff."

Francine poured a cup of coffee.  "Judy Jerome has some nerve, talking like that.  The woman's been here a little over a year, and she's already played more backgammon games than I can count.  Ask anyone in Field Section."

I sank down on the sofa, hugging my folders to my chest.  "Backgammon?" 

"Never mind—private joke."  Steam rose from the Styrofoam cup, and she blew lightly to cool the hot liquid.  "So, how's it going with Beaman?"

"Fine, so far."  Since my pregnancy prohibited me from active field status, I'd been temporarily assigned to assist Effrom with this year's freshmen.  "At least none of the new recruits know Lee.  That's something to be grateful for, I guess."

"Amanda."  Francine sat down and placed her cup on the coffee table then did the same with the folders she pried from my hands.  "This charade is getting ridiculous.  Let me talk to Billy."

"What point would that serve?  You know as well as I do how important it is to maintain the status quo."

"But at the very least you should be able to come clean here at the Agency, put an end to all this insane speculation once and for all."

"Dr. Smyth would never go for it.  'Need to know,' remember?"  She shook her head.  "I can deal with the office gossip.  It'll end soon enough once Lee comes home.  And if there's even the slightest chance that Arbaalk could target Mother and the boys . . ."  Amanda shivered.  "Besides, what's the alternative?  Being stashed in some safe house for the duration?  I don't think so.  At least here I can pretend I'm making a difference."

Francine closed her eyes and let out a short breath.  "I'm sorry you have to go through all this alone."

"I'm not alone.  I've got my family to support me.  And friends like you."

She returned my smile.  "Flattery won't cut it.  I still have no intention of telling you my code name."

"Darn," I laughed, "you found me out."

"Look, Amanda . . ."  She crossed her legs and inclined her body toward me.  "All joking aside, I'm glad you think of me as a friend.  If there's anything I can do to help you right now, all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks.  It does help that there's somebody who knows the truth, somebody besides my family.  Mother means well, but it's hard to explain this crazy job to her.  Sometimes . . ."

"I know what you mean.  My mother has never understood why I felt so driven to succeed in what she always termed a 'man's' profession.  I'm not sure she ever will."  She let out a tired sigh.  "It's hard, you know, juggling your professional and personal life without having it all come crashing down around you."

I cocked my head.  "Are you talking about my problems here or yours?"

"Both, I guess.  Lee really does feel awful about what happened.  The game he was forced to play . . ."

"You don't have to defend him, Francine."   My voice sounded brittle, and I struggled to add some warmth.  "I understand why he did it.  I just wish . . . well, I wish a lot of things, but mostly that you hadn't ended up in the middle this . . . mess.  If I hadn't tapped into the offline network to look for Lee—"

"That's only supposition.  There's never been any real proof that what you did sent them after me.  Remember, there were no formal charges filed."

"Maybe not, but thanks to me you've got a letter of reprimand in your file.  You should have let me come forward."

"To what end?  With my record, one derogatory letter from Dr. Smyth isn't going to matter much, one way or the other."  She fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall.  "Besides, the other powers that be were inclined to be lenient."  

I patted her arm, noting with relief that she didn't pull away.  "Effrom was asking about you again this morning.  He's worried."

"Who'd have thought Effrom would turn out to be such a decent guy?"  Her lips curled into an ironic smile.

"Effrom is a decent guy.  Maybe you should give him a chance."

"Maybe I should at that."  She shook her head, sending her hair flying.  "Wait a minute—did I just agree to date Effrom Beaman?" 

I grinned.  "I think you did."

Francine rolled her eyes.  "Well, Pfaff's diagnosis must be right on.  I am definitely showing symptoms of post traumatic shock."

My smile faded.  "Are you still having flashbacks?"

She shrugged.  "Some days are worse than others.  You?"

"Sometimes."  I let out a long, audible breath.  "Take it one day at a time.  That's my motto these days."

The muscles of her forearms hardened as she gripped the edge of the sofa.  "I guess there's no timetable for this kind of thing, is there?"

"No, there isn't." 

I'd realized lately that recovery followed the beat of its own drummer.  Last year I'd cut short my sessions with Pfaff, arbitrarily deciding it was time to get on with my life.  I'd been so caught up in my blossoming relationship with Lee that I'd naively assumed that bond alone could put any residual demons to rest.  Only now, after talking with Pfaff on a regular basis, did I realize how far I still had to go to truly put the past where it belonged.

As Francine cleared her throat, I realized I'd drifted off.  "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was saying that I'd better get back up to the Q-Bureau.  There's a stack of paperwork growing on my desk." 

Billy had assigned her to my old spot in the "Q," with the caveat that Lee would take over as her partner upon his return.  His decision hadn't surprised me; Dr. Smyth's regulations strictly precluded family members from working in the same department. 

Francine stood, interlocking her fingers and stretching her arms.  "It's a good thing Anderson's assignment up there is only temporary.  The concept of a filing cabinet is totally lost on him."

We shared a laugh as I followed her out the door.  "I hate to tell you this, but Lee suffers from the same disability."

Francine groaned.  "It must be a male thing.  If he expects me to clean up after him once he gets back, he'd better think again."

I couldn't help but grin.  If Francine thought she could change Scarecrow's habits, I had a sneaking suspicion she would be the one thinking again. 

We headed in the direction of Beaman's office and were about to part company when the man himself suddenly appeared, wearing a deep frown.  "There you are, Amanda.  I've been looking everywhere for you."

Francine immediately stepped between us.  "She was on a break, Effrom.  It's allowed, you know."

"I should have told you where I was going," I said as my supervisor's face fell.  I knew the feeling.  Francine's behavior was oddly reminiscent of Lee's in our early days together—reaching out one minute only to pull back the next.  "I'll have my preliminary grades on your desk in ten minutes," I assured him.  

He tore his eyes from Francine with an effort.  "That's not the reason I was looking for you, Amanda.  Mrs. Dennis from Arlington Middle School called for you.  You need to get over there right away.  There's a problem with your son."

"Is Jamie okay?"  I tried not to panic as visions of exploding cars filled my mind.  "It's not Agency related . . ."

"No, not at all."   Beaman rested a strong hand on my arm.  "Your son is fine, but—"

"But what?"  Obviously Francine was unable to resist the urge to come to my rescue again.  "If the boy's not hurt—"

He scowled at her.  "Apparently there's been some sort of incident at the school.  Mrs. Dennis didn't go into details, but the police are involved.  She tried to get in touch with your ex-husband, Amanda, but he was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed."

"Great."  I gritted my teeth as I handed Beaman my stack of files.  I could always trust Joe to be unreachable whenever trouble knocked on the door.  "I'd better get over there."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Francine offered.

"Thanks, but I'd better handle this alone."  I grimaced as I conjured up a number of scenarios involving Jamie and the police.  With the way he'd been behaving lately, anything was possible.  "If I have to kill him, it'll be better if there aren't any witnesses."