Chapter 10: Settling Up
Monday morning
8 a.m.
They'd ended up in each other's arms after all, the same as the night previous. Tara stretched as she awoke, then realized there was no one beside her. She looked around, startled, and realized there was sunlight streaming through the windows. The storm had broken overnight.
She got up and walked over to the window seat. Myles, apparently long up and showered, was sitting on the window seat, back in his "Markham" wardrobe. Only the silk tie hung loose around his shoulders.
Her breath caught as she looked out at the view. A thick blanket of white covered everything; the bay had frozen in places, and the open water shone bright blue against the dazzling whiteness. Even the bare branches of the birch trees were coated in a fair inch of frozen water. With the sun shining on it, it was a crystal wonderland.
"'The woods are lovely, dark and deep./ But I have promises to keep/and miles to go before I sleep/and miles to go before I sleep.'" The baritone voice was soft and filled with wonder as he gazed out at the landscape.
"Robert Frost," she whispered in return, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But there's nothing dark about those woods right now. Or anything out there. It's as if the sun is trying to erase any memory of the storm, except this result. But the rest of it works; we still have miles to go. Time to get back to reality."
He reached up to take her hand in his own, and turned to face her. She drew back at the sight of a single tear on his cheek. "What is it?"
The blue-grey eyes dropped for just a moment; then he looked back up at her. "Will you laugh at me if I confess I don't want to leave this place?"
Tara reached up and wiped the tear away with a gentle hand. "You'd go crazy after awhile without a bad guy to hunt down. So would I. But I share the feeling. This place… it's special. It was a haven for us, a safe place where we could both let down the walls…" She trailed off as she realized. "That's it, isn't it— why you don't want to leave?"
He nodded. "That 'poet' you discovered has been hiding for so long… I find I don't want to lose that again. But I have to— or at least push it back behind the walls. I won't be able to do my job if I don't; and you already know how much I need to do that job."
"I know." She moved to sit next to him, and took his hand in both of hers. "But you don't have to push it so far as before, Myles. There's someone who knows now— someone to share it with when the battle's over for a few minutes, or an hour, or an evening. That's a gift we've given to each other here, and I don't plan to take it back once we walk out the door of this inn. Do you?"
Now a smile lighted his face, and he drew her closer with his free hand. "No," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face. "I don't plan on it, either. I just wanted… maybe needed to hear it from you, I guess. Trust on this level is something I haven't done in a very, very long time."
Tara grinned. "Well, get used to it, mister. I don't give up easily."
The laugh that escaped him was like music. "I'm glad. Now, since it looks like Jones took the opportunity to make a run out somewhere, we need to get moving. I want to be out of here and on the road before he gets back."
She sat up straight and attentive— her eyes twinkling the whole time. "What's the plan, Chief?"
The look he gave her was priceless. "The plan," he chuckled, "is to drive up to Rockland, the next town, trade in that Buick for a Mercedes, stay the night there, and drive back here in the morning for the meeting. We'll make it look like we flew into Bar Harbor, then drove down the coast. Small airport, but very popular with private planes, and it can handle Lears; Rockland's airstrip isn't long enough," he answered the unspoken question in her eyes.
"Ah. Okay, then – give me fifteen minutes, and I'll be the stunning assistant again."
He touched her nose with a fingertip. "As much as I look forward to that, you don't need the full treatment today. Remember, we don't want to tip off Jones in case he comes back early, nor do we want to make Cal and Ruth suspicious. Today you can simply be the beautiful and remarkable lady I 'married' for this case. And that fifteen minutes better include packing; the sooner we get out of proximity, the less chance of him seeing us. I'm going to take my bags down and get us checked out, then get the car cleaned off and ready to go."
She sighed dramatically. "You take all the fun out of this, you know that? All right, all right, I'm going." But she giggled as he aimed a good-natured swat at her as she hopped off the window seat.
His deep voice followed her as she headed for the shower. "All the fun? My dear, the fun's about to begin. Ol' Danny isn't going to know what hit him!"
The last thing she heard before she closed the bathroom door was a baritone voice singing the opening notes of "Danny Boy."
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Tuesday morning
10 a.m.
"Mr. Markham." Jones extended a hand. "I see the inclement weather didn't slow you down."
Myles gave the man a withering look. "Only you would plan an exchange in the midst of the Arctic, Jones," he snapped. "You're fortunate we landed in Bar Harbor before the storm got that far. Let's get this over with."
"As you wish." He pulled out a briefcase, opened it and spread the radar plans out. "You can see the entire set of plans is here. You have the money we agreed upon?"
"I do." Myles laid his own briefcase on the table and opened it. "Three million dollars. Count it if you like."
Jones shook his head. "You think I don't trust you? Nonsense." Then he looked around suddenly. "Where's your charming assistant today?"
"Waiting in the warmth of the car," Myles replied coldly. "I decided she'd had enough of your lecherous comments. Now let's finish this and get out of each other's hair, shall we?"
"Oh, I agree most heartily," Jones replied smoothly. He returned the plans to the case and moved his hand to close the lid. "Unfortunately, Mr. Markham, you won't be going anywhere."
The lid to the briefcase clicked shut just as the barrel of a .45 came into view.
"What's going on?" Myles asked. "I thought we had a deal."
"Oh, we do," Jones said, raising the gun until it was pointed squarely at Myles' heart. "The terms have simply changed, that's all." He pulled out a chair from the table. "Sit down. And I want your hands flat on the table where I can see them."
Myles complied, mentally kicking himself for not anticipating this. Jones quickly frisked him, removing the agent's handgun from its resting place at the small of Myles' back.
The thief smiled as he laid the other man's gun on the table. "I told you I had other interested parties. I can still sell the plans today; just not to you. And I come out three million dollars richer still." He slowly moved around behind Myles, the gun coming to rest at the base of the agent's skull. "And don't worry about your lovely companion. I'll make sure she stays warm; maybe we'll have a little party before she joins you in the bay out there."
A pair of hands clenched into fists on the tabletop. "You're playing with fire, Jones."
"I think not. A good day, to you, my British friend. It has been a most profitable acquaintance." The sound of a hammerlock being pulled back echoed around the room.
Suddenly, the hand against Myles' head stiffened a bit, and a soft voice with a thread of steel in it was heard.
"You know, I've been wanting to shoot you ever since the first day I met you, Jones," Tara said. "I'm almost hoping you give me a reason right now. Put the gun on the table, please."
Jones did so, his face paling as Tara stepped around to face him, her own firearm raised and cocked. "Dan Jones," she said as she flipped open her ID, "you just picked the wrong people to mess with. Special Agent Tara Williams, FBI. And my associate, Special Agent Myles Leland the Third. You're under arrest for espionage, theft of classified documents… oh, and the attempted murder of a Federal Agent. Did I miss anything, Myles?" She smiled.
"I'm sure there's something," Myles drawled, leaning back in the chair with a grin. "But that's more than enough for us to haul his pathetic posterior back to Washington. Took you long enough, by the way, Agent Williams." He picked up his gun to cover Jones while Tara cuffed the thief and read him the Miranda rights.
"I thought you always have everything under control, Agent Leland," she countered. "Didn't figure you needed any help. Nice alliteration, though— 'pathetic posterior.' I like that."
"I must say, your stealth is uncanny. I never heard you coming." He raised a brow at her. "And I think you really must keep that wool cape; it's quite stunning."
"Back to the fashion report?" she laughed as she gathered up both briefcases. "Tell you what; I'll splurge and pay for the cape if I get to hear that British accent once in awhile."
Myles took Jones by the arm, his grin delighted. "We can discuss it all the way back to DC. Let's go."
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