Webb Odyssey Pas Duex
Claire Vincent
In the interest of getting something posted, and moving the story along, this chapter is a short one.
Chapter 4
George Washington Hospital Emergency Room
Washington, DC
0016 local time
Cmdr Harmon Rabb Jr. entered the busy Emergency room and approached the center nurses' station.
'I'm Harmon Rabb; someone called me about Clayton Webb. He was brought in here tonight.' Harm said anxiously. The nurse on the phone did not give him much information over the phone when she called, only that Clay had been brought in, and Harm was on his list of contacts incase of emergency.
The nurse checked her computer. Without looking up, she said, 'Mr. Webb is in exam room five.' Then she looked at him and gave the direction with a nod of her head, 'Third door on the left.' Then she went back to work on the computer.
Harm thought about asking some questions, then decided against it. If it was really serious, they would not have let him go into see Clay right away. Harm just started walking down the hall, and entered Room 5.
Clay was lying on a gurney with glaring fluorescent lights shining off his pale face. The light made the bruises and butterfly bandages all the more obvious and painful looking. Harm couldn't help the 'Oh, Clay' that came from his lips as he walked toward the bed. He was reluctant to wake the man up, but didn't need too, as soon as he got close, Clay was startled, and woke up.
Looking up at his friend, a look of confusion came over his face. 'What are you doing here?' Clay asked.
'The nurse called me. Said you were brought in, and I was on your contact list. Your family couldn't be reached.' Harm said. 'What happened?'
Clay closed his eyes and thought a minute. 'Where's Amy?' he thought aloud. Then he remembered. She and the baby were in Wisconsin. He not only remembered where is family is, he remembered why he was in the hospital, and how much he hated hospitals.
'Go get the nurse for me, please. I want to get out of here.' He said to Harm as he started to push himself into a sitting position. As he did, the room began to spin, and the edges of his vision went sort of green, then black. He blinked his eyes to try and clear them.
Harm put a warning hand on Clay's shoulder. 'Hey, wait a minute. You sure you want to be doing that?' He watched as Clay's pale face went an even chalkier white under the bruises as he tried to sit up.
Clay was able to slowly sit up, and swing his legs over the edge, but had to stop there. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, but he wanted to get out of there. Waiting for his vision to clear, and the room to stop spinning he said to one of the three Harm's floating in front of him, 'Just get my stuff. I want to go home.'
Harm objected, 'You are not driving in this condition.' He said.
'I'll take a cab.'
'No, I'll drive you home. That's probably why I was called here. Where is Amy anyway?' He asked.
'Long story.' Clay replied, looking down at his bare feet, taking deep breaths so he didn't embarrass himself and get sick all over Harm's shoes.
'I'll get your things and drive you home. And then you can explain all of this to me.' Harm said reluctantly. He tried to steady Clay on the edge of the bed.
'Do I have to?' Clay asked.
'Price for the ride home.' Harm stated. Once he was sure Clay would not fall off, Harm moved to the door and went out to find a nurse.
Clay was beginning to feel a little better, and then started noticing all the aches and pains in his head, chest, ribs, hands, he stopped counting. I'll get home, have a good night's sleep and everything would be fine. He thought. He hoped so at least.
Clayton Webb Residence
Alexandria, VA
0118 local time
The ride to Clay's home was quiet. He sat with his head back, and eyes closed in the passenger seat as Harm drove through the quiet streets. He had a whole list of questions, but let Clay rest for now. He knew the agent well enough that Harm could ask any question he wanted to, but would only get the answers that Clay wanted to give him. They could wait until they were home to start what Harm felt instinctively would be a lengthy discussion.
The house was dark when he pulled into the drive. Clay gave him the keys and Harm went ahead to open the door and turn on some lights inside as Clay made his way slowly into the house. He wanted nothing better than to go straight to bed and escape his aches and pains in deep dark sleep, but he knew he and Harm had to talk. Of all the people in the world, maybe Harmon Rabb Jr. was the person he should talk to right now. He would understand after all.
Harm was anxious to give Clay a hand as he entered the house, but knew better than to offer. 'Let's just sit down here.' Clay suggested, and sank into the couch in the living room. Harm closed the door behind him, and joined him in the room. 'Help yourself to a drink, or check the kitchen if you're hungry. Help yourself.' Clay slipped off his shoes and coat and settled himself.
Harm wasn't hungry, and didn't want anything to drink. He sat in a chair opposite Clay. 'I'm fine. You want anything?' he asked.
Clay shook his head, a mistake since it was still spinning a little, and pounding with every heartbeat.
'So tell me what's going on Clay.' Harm started.
Clay smiled, it didn't do anything to brighten his face. 'Not sure where to start.' He said.
'Start with telling me where Amy is, she ok?' The question implied was 'Are you two ok?'
Clay answered the direct question, and ignored his friend's concern. 'Amy and Claudia are in Wisconsin visiting her family for a few days.'
Harm accepted this for now and moved on to the point at hand. 'So what is going on? Why do I get a call from the hospital late at night to take you home after being beat up?'
'I appreciate your help with that. Thank you.' Clay said, still avoiding answering him.
'You're welcome.' Harm answered a little annoyed. 'And I'm waiting for an answer.'
Clay leaned his head back on the couch cushion and sighed. Where to begin? At the beginning. 'How many years did you look for your father?'
'Since I was old enough to start researching it. I was 16 when I went to Viet Nam. Is this about your father?' he asked surprised.
Clay nodded. 'I recently had found a lead that opened up more and more information. I found out what he was working on the last 6 months of his life. I'm really close. But someone doesn't want me to find out what happened.'
'And they put you in the hospital to emphasize their point.' Harm said.
Clay stretched carefully on the couch, grimacing as pain shot through his bruised rib cage. 'Did a pretty good job too.'
'You going to take the hint?' Harm asked.
'No.' Clay answered. 'I wouldn't when Amy…' but Clay stopped here.
'What does Amy have to do with this? And why is she gone exactly?' Harm could tell he was, as usual only getting half the story from the CIA agent.
Clay looked across at Harm and thought. Was it time to ask for some help? It would be the hardest thing he would ever do. It was a very big favor. Clay still thought he could handle this on his own, but to let someone else know what was going on was to possibility put them in danger. But if anyone in the world could be trusted with this information, and understand what Clay was going through, it was this man, sitting patiently across from him. Were they friends? In some ways they were best friends. Clay had not had a closer friend than Harmon Rabb Jr. But would friendship go this far? Should it be tested this far? They had both put life and careers on the line for each other, but was it for the man, or was it for the woman they had both loved? Or the duty they both felt for their country?
This time it was personal.
Harm was still waiting for an answer. Clay knew he would wait all night. Clay decided it was time to call in reinforcements.
'I've looked for years for answers about what happened to my father. He is a bit of a legend at the Agency you know.'
Harm could tell he was about to get the whole story. This did not immediately answer his question, but he knew Clay would eventually get around to that. Harm settled back to listen to what he had to say.
Clay continued. 'I …you may find this hard to believe, but I never made friends very easily.' Clay said with a small smile. Harm smiled back in mock amazement. 'You, I would never have guessed.'
'I my third year at Harvard, I had finally made some friends. The 'right kind' of friends, the popular crowd, and I was just young and shallow enough that I was happy about this.' Clay smiled at his own youthful foolishness. 'Anyway, these friends were going to spend the Christmas break in Vermont, skiing, and had invited me along. This was Christmas 1979. I told my mother I was going with them and would not be home, but she stopped me, and insisted that I come home, at least for Christmas. I could join my friends after the holiday. My father had been out of town 'working' for weeks, and when he had been home, he was always at the office. Mother wanted a nice warm family Christmas, for his sake.'
Clay paused here remembering the heated conversation with his Mother all those years ago. He again considered how much he had been acting like a spoiled brat. 'We did not know it at the time, and I should have guessed of course but was too wrapped up in my own life to take a look at his. He had been working on the Iranian Hostage Crisis. That was the case he was working on the last six months of his life that I just discovered by accident recently.'
'I did come home that Christmas and played the part of loving dutiful son, but I resented every minute, and let them both know it. I was awful. I…I was surly and argumentative. I acted like a jerk, especially to him. It was his fault after all, that I had to delay being with my friends, because of his job, and pretending that I understood why he was gone all the time, and that I supported him and…' Clay wasn't sure where all this was coming from. It was deep down he hardly recognized it himself. It was like he was that spoiled, hurt college student again and it all came out. All the frustration and worry he had always felt for his father when he was away working, and the resentment for not having a regular father who was there for him whenever he needed him. Followed by the regrets he had felt later that spring. 'I arranged for a flight at a ridiculous hour early in the morning on Dec. 26 to join my friends in Vermont. That night before I simply said good night from the dinner table, went and packed my bags and slept a few hours before I left the house.'
It had gotten very quiet, and Clay's voice seemed to get lower in volume with the last few sentences. Harm could almost picture the sulking college boy slinking out of the house to meet up with his buddies in the early hours of a winter morning.
'In March he was reported missing in action. Mother told me to stay at school, there was nothing to do but wait at home anyway. By the beginning of May he was found dead.'
The two cold statements hung in the silence between them. 'Sounds sort of silly now, but I regret the way I acted then. I was so selfish, was such a…a… oh I don't know.' Clay paused here in frustration for the stupid things he did in his youth. 'I never said goodbye, or I'm sorry, or how much I….' Clay couldn't get the rest of this out, but both men knew what the rest of his regrets were. Harm felt them too, all too well.
'Does Amy know about this?' he asked. He didn't know what comfort he could offer, but thought Amy would know.
'Not all of it. Not that part.' Clay answered. 'They threatened her too, her and the baby. I sent them to Wisconsin for their own safety. She wants me to back off. Wait again for a while until it is safer. But the trail might dry up, contacts may be too hard to find, or dead. These people are not getting any younger.' Clay reasoned.
'Clay, maybe she has a point.' Harm started, but Clay shook his head 'No. I have been around and around it myself. The time is now to finish it.'
He looked intently at Harm. 'My next step is to go to Iran. I need to talk to one of the former students who held the hostages. He is in the middle of the insurgency groups there. I have a good idea of where to make contact with him, or at least his people, try and talk to him.'
'You think he will talk to you?' Harm asked surprised.
'He has an arrangement with CIA. It will be in his best interest to talk to me, and he knows it.' Clay said. 'Would you come with me?' he asked.
Harm was quiet for a moment, looking at Clay. He looked pretty rough with is bumps and bruises. The last thing he wanted was to get mixed up in anymore of this man's plans and schemes.
But where would he have been without the help of friends, old and new, when he had gone to Russia looking for his father? And where would his brother Serge be now if it had not been for this man sitting in front of him? Would he have lost his brother as POW too?
He hated to leave Sarah right now, but she would understand. After tests and specialists and embarrassing procedures, Sarah and he were expecting a baby. He felt he should be here to help her, and protect her, and knew full well that his Marine wife would loudly disagree with him that she, a Marine Colonel needed any help or protection at all. 'I can take care of myself.' Though Harm knew this to be true, he still felt it his duty to stay beside his wife. But didn't he owe Clay something for his help on some difficult cases through the years? Then again, Harm had helped him too. It was late, and Harm was tired, and this decision was just too hard to work out right now.
Clay broke into his thoughts. 'It would not be a long trip, a few days. I know it is asking a lot for you to come with me right now. I just feel I ought to have someone watch my back at this point.'
Harm nodded. It was against his better judgment, but how could he say no? Besides, a little plan was already forming in Harm's mind on what to do. 'All right. I have some vacation time on the books, and Sarah and I can't go anywhere together right now. I might as well take a few days, help a friend.'
'I appreciate it.' Clay said sincerely.
'You set it up, the travel arrangements and everything and let me know.' Harm said as he stood up to leave.
'I will, and I'll be in touch.' Clay said as he too, stood up to walk his friend to the door. Harm noticed the difficulty it took for Clay to stand and walk slowly to the door. He face had gone white again, with a thin sheen of sweat at the effort. 'You sure you are ok. You want some help getting upstairs…?' Harm offered.
'Thanks, I'll be ok.' Clay tried to assure him. 'Goodnight Harm, and thank you again for everything.'
Clay closed and locked the door behind Harm, and watched as the headlights pulled away from the house, and down the streets.
Clay turned out the lights, and slowly made his way upstairs. The house settled for the night around him, like a dark blanket that seemed to smother him. He went to his bedroom door, and couldn't go in. It just seemed too dark and empty. He walked down the hall, and into the nursery, turned on the low nightlight that would have been on had his daughter been asleep in her crib now. They had been gone a while now, and Clay missed them more each day. He wanted to talk things over with Amy, but didn't want to do it over the phone. And he missed holding Claudia, with all her little sounds, and big ones, he thought with a smile that lit up his face, and caused his bruises to throb harder. He picked up Claudia quilt from the crib. It still held all her baby smells, soap, powder, diaper, milk. He hugged it to his chest, wishing she were there, warm and heavy on him. 'I love you baby girl' he whispered.
End Chap 4