Sorry this had taken so long, but it should rap things up in a nice little bow. It may be a bit disjointed, but I wanted to finish it and get it posted. Thanks for waiting! CV.
Chapter 9
Webb Residence
Alexandria, VA
0358 local time
After getting directions from Porter, Clay went upstairs to change clothes. Amy soon joined him.
'Want to tell me what's going on?' she asked her husband.
Fornell and Harm had both been called and were on their way. Clay stopped for a moment from dressing, and sat down on the bed. Amy sat down beside him.
'I recognized the room that was in the video, where Sarah is being held.' He said.
Amy nodded, and Clay continued. 'I spent time in that room too, as a child. The house belonged to a friend of my parents, and we used to go and visit him there. Sometimes spent a weekend there. Once, my parents even left me there in his care, when they went out of town to be alone for a while.'
He paused, remembering how he had felt that weekend. 'I hated it there. I was lonely there. There were no other children around, and I usually ended up playing by myself in that basement.'
Clay looked at Amy, 'My parents friend was good to me, but he didn't have any kids of his own, and was a little lost over what to do with me. He enjoyed fishing, and thought he would teach me, but I wasn't interested. I never had the patience for it.'
'Clay, there could be hundreds of old houses around here that look like that basement. Are you sure she is there?' Amy asked.
'I'm sure.' He said emphatically.
'Who was this friend? Could he be mixed up in this?' she asked.
'No.' Clay answered. At least he hoped with all his heart that he wasn't involved in any of it.
'But Clay…' Amy began, but he wouldn't let her finish. 'Amy, I don't even know if he still owns the place. I don't want to say anything until I know for sure.' With that, hoping to end the discussion, Clay stood up and finished his preparations. He took out is revolver from the dresser drawer, and began loading the clip.
Amy stayed seated and watched Clay. 'Nice story, do you really expect me to believe it?' she asked.
Clay looked over at her sly smile, and cocked eyebrow. 'It's the truth.' He answered.
'Only about half I think.' She said.
If I can't even convince Amy how will I convince Fornell, or Harm? Clay thought. 'Amy, it is the truth, just not all of it. When I know all of it, I'll tell you.' He paused again, and made a confession, as much to himself as to her. 'I'm afraid of what I'm going to find out there.' He whispered. Then moved over to Amy as he saw the concern in her eyes. 'Not about Sarah, somehow I know she is safe. I just…What I find out tonight will answer all the questions I've had for 25 years, and suddenly I'm afraid of the answers. But we have to get Sarah, and the rest…I will deal with it when it comes.'
He took her hands in his, and looked at them, such capable, loving hands. 'What do I have to say to make you stay home tonight?' he asked, looking up into her eyes.
Amy saw his concern, and fear and love all reflected in his eyes. 'Please.' She answered. She wanted more than anything to be with him and Harm in finding Sarah. But this time, he really needed to do it on his own.
'Please then. Stay here, stay safe. I don't know who or how many men may be there around Sarah, and I know you could kick any one's butt that you would come across, but stay here for me.'
'All right. For you.' He kissed her then, to say thank you, and to say good-bye.
He stood up and moved to the door. 'Be careful.' She said to him as he moved through the threshold. He looked back at her once more, memorizing her face. 'I love you.' He said, and closed the door behind him.
'I love you too Clayton.' Amy whispered to no one.
Within half an hour, Harm had made it to their home. He probably ran every red light, and broke all the speed limits on the way, but he didn't really remember, and didn't really care. He hadn't slept much, or eaten anything in the last 14 hours, and he didn't care about that either. All he cared about was that Sarah was gone, and he couldn't get to her. Her face and her voice from the video was all he saw and heard, and he had to find her. If Clay knew where she was, than let's move right now, and don't anyone stand in my way he thought.
He wanted to leave with Clay as soon as he arrived, but Clay saw what condition his friend was in, and knew he had to calm down or he could jeopardize the whole operation. Clay called Amy downstairs as soon as Harm came inside, and she was able to talk to him, and try and get him to go with her to the kitchen. She said she was hungry and was going to make herself and Clay something to eat. Harm reluctantly followed and she was able to get him to sit down and talk a little, while feeding him a sandwich.
Clay filled in the FBI agents that were outside their house, and they took a copy of the map and location of the house in Virginia to start making plans. No one would move until Fornell arrived anyway.
He wasn't long in coming. He came right into the house and started asking Clay questions. 'So where is this house?'
Clay showed him the map, and explained it would take about 90 minutes to get there from Alexandria.
'What is the lay out of house? Are there any fences or trees around? How close is the nearest neighbor?' Fornell needed details to form a plan for his team.
'I haven't been to the house in more than 35 years Fornell. I think there were some bushes up against the house back then, but I couldn't tell you if they were still there or not. There were trees around too, but again, a lot can change in that time. There is access to a small lake in the back of the house. There were usually some small boats tied up along the shore.'
'We will have to cover the back too then.' Fornell thought, already preparing how to deploy his team. He pulled one of the copies Clay had printed out, and prepared to go outside to talk to his agents. Harm had come into the office while they were talking, and was interested in what the plan was.
'Fornell what is your plan? What do you want me to do?' Harm asked.
'I want you to stay here.' Fornell answered in his best commander voice.
'If my wife is there, I'm going to be there.' Harm insisted.
'Rabb, the last thing I need is an irate, worried husband on this operation.' Fornell answered.
'I'll go with Harm. Keep him in the back.' Clay suggested.
'Who said you were going along?' Fornell asked surprised.
'If the Colonel is there, and if my parents' friend is there, I want to be in on it. It was my lead that broke this case open for you, and my fault she is being held in the first place.' Clay insisted.
Fornell didn't have time to argue with either of them. Against his better judgment, he thought he better let them come along. 'Fine, you can come. But you stay in the back, and out of our way.'
'Understood.' Both Harm and Clay answered.
'My team will be assembled and ready to leave in 30 minutes.' And with that Fornell turned to go outside to brief his agents.
Clay called his attention back. 'Since Harm and I are ready, we will go on ahead and scope out the area for you. When you arrive, we can tell you what cover there is, and maybe how many people we will be dealing with.' Clay said helpfully.
Fornell didn't like this idea either; he didn't trust Webb or Rabb. He felt they were both cowboys, too ready to do things their way. But it wasn't a bad idea either. The FBI agents could work faster once they arrived, if they knew right away what they were up against. In the long run it would be safer for everyone involved, even the hostage.
'All right.' Fornell agreed reluctantly. 'But stay out of sight, and don't do anything until we get there. This is an FBI operation, not CIA or' with a glance at Harm, 'a JAG op either.' He said.
Both Harm and Clay nodded and said, 'All right' or 'OK'.
Thinking he had successfully gotten his point across, he went outside.
Harm and Clay moved toward the door, and slipped on their dark windbreakers. Harm asked Clay, 'Did you really mean what you said, that you wouldn't do anything until the FBI got there?'
Clay looked up at his friend with a smile. 'No.'
Harm was glad to hear it. He had not intended to wait around for anyone else to go and find Sarah; he would do that himself, as he had always done. But it did surprise him. 'But you gave your word.'
Clay was surprised at this. 'Did you hear me say I promise? No. She's your wife, and my friend. We will go find her ourselves.' He slipped his gun in his coat pocket and walked to the door.
Harm followed, shaking his head at his friend. He was glad to be moving, doing something positive for Sarah finally. But he asked Clay, 'How do you live with yourself sometimes?'
'Just fine.' Came the answer from the smiling CIA agent. They climbed into the car, and were on their way.
A Farmhouse in Rural Virginia
0617 local time
Clay followed the directions Porter had given him. He was surprised at how many of the roads and houses looked familiar to him. Not too much had changed up here.
They approached the house, and drove slowly passed it, getting their first look at the lay out. A couple trees were bigger than Clay remembered, and one big one was gone. He parked the car down the road, and he and Harm discussed the best approach to the house. They decided to stick close to each other until they knew how many other people they may be facing. There was a group of trees, still in shadow as the sun slowly climbed over the horizon. They made their way quietly through there, and stopped on the edge of the yard.
They watched the house in silence for a moment, trying to control the adrenaline rush before they dashed toward the building.
'I don't see anyone moving around.' Harm said under his breath. 'Wouldn't you think there would be some sentry, or someone around?'
Clay stayed quiet. To see no one else around did not surprise him, but he did not want to go into it with Harm right now.
Instead, Clay gave Harm some directions. 'Try the front door. If it isn't open, break one of the windows on either side, and get in that way. Across from the front door is a stairway going upstairs. Go around to the back to the kitchen, just under the stairwell is a door leading to the basement. Check that first. Sarah is probably still down there.'
Seeing no one around, scared Harm, but he worked hard to keep his mind on the task at hand. No guards around could mean there was no one, or nothing to guard anymore. What if Sarah was dead already? What if she had been killed once the video was delivered? They wouldn't need her after that, would they? Pushing these thoughts aside, and concentrating on the hope that she was indeed still in the basement, he looked at Clay, and nodded that he understood what he had to do.
'I'll go around the back first and check that out, take anyone out if I need to. Give me a count of twenty, then move up to the house.' Clay instructed him.
Harm swallowed past the lump in his throat and answered, 'OK.'
Clay gave him an encouraging smile, then moved off toward the back of the house.
Harm counted slowly to twenty, straining his ears for any activity coming from the back of house. It was longest twenty seconds of his life.
When he reached the end, he took a deep breath, and then checking one last time for any movement, he too off for the front porch. He quietly moved the doorknob, and found that it was unlocked. With one last look around, he stepped inside the semi-dark house.
The floors were old wood, and creaked with every step he took. The sounds seemed to echo all over the quiet house, but Harm could hear no one else moving around. It was a safe bet that if the floors creaked under him, he would be able to know if anyone was coming up behind him.
He found the lay out of the house as Clay had described it, and found the old wooden door that led downstairs to the basement. At the bottom of the stairs was the large metal door he had seen in the video, and his nightmares over the past few hours.
There was latch, with a padlock on it. For a moment, Harm was concerned he would have use his weapon to shoot the lock open, and attract unwanted attention. But when he reached out to examine the lock, it was only linked in the latch, and not closed. He quickly twisted the lock, threw it to the floor, and pushed the door open.
The basement was even darker than the house upstairs. There were no windows nearby to let in any natural light. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, when he heard a sleepy voice in front of him, and to the right.
'Uncle?'
'Sarah?' Harm answered.
'Harm, is that you?'
Harm heard some fumbling, then a small lamp was turned on, and there she was. Sleepy, disheveled, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
'Sarah.' He whispered on his pent up breath, and moved swiftly over the small bed to take her in his arms.
In the next minute, they were both crying, and talking at the same time.
'Are you all right?' he asked.
'How did you find me?' she asked.
'Clay knew where you were from the video.' Harm answered.
'I'm fine. Really.' She answered.
They smiled at each other again, and embraced once more.
After a kiss had reassured them both the moment was real, Sarah asked, 'Clay knew where I was? How would he know that?'
Harm shook his head. 'I don't know, and right now I really don't care. I'm just glad you are safe now. But we have to get out of here.' He got up and grabbed her clothes that were on the chair and helped her to dress quickly.
'How many men are here Sarah, do you know?' Harm asked, wanting to get an idea of who might be around.
'I don't know really, I have only seen one older man who called himself Uncle.' She answered. 'He has been good to me Harm. He treated me very well, aside from taking me from home and keeping me in this basement. I want to make a statement to that effect. I don't think this was his idea, I think he was taking orders from someone else.'
Harm looked at her, trying to understand her logic. He still wanted to kill whomever it was that had taken her, and do it very slowly with his own hands, but he did think that she looked good. The room was comfortable, and she had all she needed. It could have been a lot worse.
'We'll talk about that later.' He said. 'Right now, lets get out of here.' With that they climbed the stairs together, and started walking to the front door and freedom.
Meanwhile, outside the back of the house, Clay was still slowly checking the area for any sign of people around, not really expecting any. Soon the whirl of a boat motor caught his attention, and a small red fishing boat, that had seen better days, was coming up to the small dock at the edge of the yard.
Inside the boat, as expected and feared, sat Martin Armbruster, his father's former partner.
Clay stayed where he was, not sure what he was going to say. His heart tightened in his chest, and felt like he wanted to hit Marty into next week, and sit down and cry at the same time. He just stood in the yard, and waited for Marty to tie up the boat, and walk up the dock to the yard, a tackle box and fishing rod in one hand, and a string of fish in the other.
Once Marty got passed the trees, he saw Clay. He paused a moment, then kept walking toward him. Marty broke the silence first. 'Clay. I knew you would come.' He said, almost sounding relieved.
'Why?' was all Clay could push passed his dry mouth.
'I was following orders.' Marty said as if that was obvious. 'I still know how to do that.'
Clay just stared at him, not sure what to say next. His skin was crawling, and he was at a loss as to what to say to the man he had known all his life. Or thought he had known.
'Clay, I wouldn't have hurt her. No matter what they told me. She is fine. She's downstairs, in your old room. Have you seen her?' Marty said.
Clay just shook his head.
'I'm sorry Clay, really. But I had to do it. I brought her here, knowing you would find us, and put an end to all of this. It is time it came to an end I guess.' Marty thought out loud.
'You know, this is partly your fault.' He looked Clay right in the face, trying to sound like a parent talking to a child to make them take responsibility for their own actions. 'I told you to stop looking. I told you to leave the past alone. Digging up the truth doesn't serve anyone Clay.' He said reprovingly.
Clay was beginning to agree with him. Digging up the truth was breaking his heart. 'We need to talk Marty.' He said.
'Right.' Marty answered with a smile. 'I'll just clean these up, and we can have some breakfast.' Marty said as if they were old friends again, and would spend the day eating fresh fish and reminiscing over coffee.
'No Marty. We will talk later. Just you and me. It is really over now.' Clay said quietly, trying to soften the fact that Marty was now going to pay for all he had done.
Marty understood, and nodded, looking down at his fish. 'Can I still just clean these up? Maybe I can still eat them quick before I have to go.' He said.
Clay was beginning to hear movement at the front of the house. Car doors were slamming, and men were talking. Then he heard a house door slam.
'Who's that?' Marty asked.
'The FBI I suppose.' Clay answered. 'Kidnapping is a Federal offense.'
Marty smiled, 'Yeah, I guess it is. What should I tell them?' he asked, and Clay shrugged. 'I will give them names, activities, contacts, everything. I am not going down alone.' Marty insisted.
'That will be fine, Marty.' Clay said.
Marty moved over to a small fish hut on the edge of the yard, and Clay walked around to the front of house. There he saw a very relieved Harm, with his arm tightly around his wife, who looked just fine. He had time for a quick smile at the sight, before his attention was rudely interrupted.
'Webb! I want an explanation!' shouted Agent Fornell from the road in front of the house. He stomped over to Clay with fire in his eyes. 'You told me you would wait until we got here. This was an FBI operation…'
But he didn't get a chance to continue. Clay interrupted him. 'There was not operation Fornell. There is only one man here, and he was out fishing. Rabb went downstairs and got his wife out without incident, and the suspect is out back.'
'Is he dead?' Fornell asked.
'No. He is in the hut back there, cleaning a string of fish.' Clay answered. Then he turned and was going over to talk to Harm and Sarah. Fornell grabbed his arm and turned him back first.
'Cleaning fish? And you just left him there alone? What is going on here Webb?' he demanded.
'Nothing Fornell. The suspect is expecting you, and he is not going anywhere. The hostage is free and doing well from what I can see. You and your team can collect all the evidence you want. I'm done here.' Clay said, and continued moving over to his friends.
'I'll want a full report Webb, on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. Or I will hound you everyday until this is finished.
Clay didn't even look back at Fornell, dismissing the order for a report and the agent with one wave of his hand.
'Sarah.' He said, and opened his arms to give her a friendly hug.
'Thank you Clay.' She said, then pulled a little away to look at him. 'Harm said you knew where to find me. How did you know?'
'I just did. Are you ok?' he asked, not wanting to linger on her question.
'Yes, I'm fine. I want to make a statement to the agents that I was treated well, and I want that considered in the charges and sentencing of this man.
'Well, you don't have to do that right now. Let's go home.' Clay suggested.
Sarah smiled at that, and the three of them walked passed the team of agents as they prepared to investigate the house and collect evidence. As he passed the van, where Fornell was giving orders he called, 'Let the guy eat his fish while you go through the house Fornell. It is the least you could do.'
The only answer he got was a livid stare.
A couple weeks later
Federal Prison
Interrogation Room 7
1416 local time
Clay entered the interrogation room and sat down across the table from Marty. He didn't say anything, and never took his eyes off the man. He felt strangely calm, remote, as if he was interrogating a stranger, not a man he had known his whole life. On second thought, he really had not known this man his whole life, and he was a stranger to Clay.
Marty watched him sit down, careful to keep any expression from his face. He didn't know what to expect.
'I want to know what happened to my father Marty.' Clay said simply.
Marty glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. 'The camera's off, and there is no one in the observation room. This is between you and me.' Clay stated.
Marty swallowed and looked back at Clay. 'I gave my statement to the Feds.' Marty said.
'I know, I read it.' Clay answered. 'It doesn't answer everything for me.'
'I guess it is poetic justice that I should make my confession to Neville Webb's son.' Marty said, and smiled to himself. 'How much do you know?' he asked.
'Most of it.' Clay answered. 'But start at the beginning.'
Marty looked him in the face, and began. 'We were in Tehran when the Shah fell. We worked on getting westerners out of the country. There were a lot of them in Iran at the time; corporations' employees and their families, agents, Embassy personal. We worked with…I don't know how many European consulates to get as many people out as we could, Mexico and Canada too. We did pretty well. We started evacuating the US Embassy. We saw the threat, but couldn't really believe they would take it over. Well, we were wrong.'
'We were there when they took over the Embassy. Your father seemed to take it personally that Americans would be held hostage. We worked with the students to get the women out, and a couple of the older men out. That helped us later on, the students knew us and sort of trusted us.'
Clay let him tell the story at his own speed, and didn't ask any questions. It was always better to let the person just get everything out their own way. Marty wasn't going anywhere; he could always be reached later, if Clay had further questions. Clay was true to his word, this wasn't being recorded, and he took no notes. He didn't need any. He doubted he would ever forget anything Marty told him now.
'The whole episode was an embarrassment to the US. It was shameful; we got caught with our pants down. The whole country was being held hostage and we couldn't do anything about it!' His voice was growing louder with the remembered frustration.
'Your father and I came back home, and started working on plans to try and get the hostages out. We worked on negotiations, anything that could help. I don't remember how many trips we made back and forth that winter.' Marty said shaking his head at the memory.
'We even helped the military plan for that rescue that fell apart in the desert. What a fiasco that was!' Marty said with some anger in his voice now. 'It just brought more embarrassment and shame to the country. We looked like idiots!'
Clay knew that what had happened to the rescue attempt was an accident, and maybe some poor planning. Marines died on that mission, giving their lives in an attempt to save other Americans. But Marty seemed to think otherwise.
'That's when they came to me. The group of Americans who were as sick and frustrated as many of us were at this mess. There seemed no end in sight. There were no plans, and the White House was sitting on its hands!'
'But this group, they had a plan, and the means to execute it, and they needed someone with contacts, and access. They asked me. They knew your father would never have gone for it. Your father always played by the rules, Clay. The problem was, there were no rules now. They had changed, but Neville didn't see that.'
Clay just let him continue. Arguing his father's stand at this point wouldn't help.
'They had money, and they needed someone to offer to sell arms to the students. They needed someone to broker the deal with the black market. It was a way to get the hostages out alive, and that was all any of us wanted.' He said almost pleadingly, using this as his excuse verifying that the ends justified the means.
Clay didn't say anything to accept or discredit this defense. He just kept looking back at Marty, waiting for him to continue. The men stared at each other, then Clay prompted him, 'But the deal didn't go through.'
'No' Marty said quietly. 'The money they gave me wasn't enough.'
'I know about the bank account, Marty.' Clay said, to be sure the man understood that Clay was well informed and wasn't going to let him get away with anything.
Marty looked at him a moment, then continued. 'All right. Yeah, I took some off the top. I was the one taking all the risks, making the deal, putting my neck on the line for this; and I deserved more.'
'But the deal fell through.' Clay prompted.
'Yeah, Mossari's men expected more arms, and the financiers found out about the bank account. They had followed their money very closely. They ordered me to fix it with the students, to still try and pull it off. I had to make them think someone else had done it.'
Both men looked at each other, and knew who the fall guy had been. Now Clay started to feel something. He had expected hate, or resentment toward this man who had been the reason for is father's death, but he felt only pity. Pity that Marty had been so weak, and his father had trusted him so much.
'I let the students take your father in and they held him a few days. Beat him up pretty bad. Neville knew nothing, he couldn't tell them anything. Finally they called me to try and talk to him.'
'What happened then?' Clay asked.
Marty looked away from Clay, lost in the story, lost in his memory. He was in another smaller room, many years ago.
Somewhere in Tehran
March 1980
One of the student guards opened the door, and pushed Marty inside. There was one bulb turned on in the middle of the ceiling, but the corners of the room were dark.
'Neville?' he called.
He heard a movement in one of the corners, and now that his eyes had become accustomed to the amount of light, he saw his partner, sitting on the floor in the corner. Marty moved to him and sat down beside him.
Weakly, Neville said 'Marty, is that you?'
'Yeah, its me partner.'
'They got you too?' Neville asked.
Marty nodded and answered truthfully for once, 'Yeah, a long time ago.'
Neville ignored the strange answer his partner gave him. 'They're asking me all kinds of questions about arms and money.' Neville's voice, if possible, was growing weaker. 'Do you know what they are talking about?'
Marty looked at his partner and his friend. The students had put him through the wringer the past few days, Neville looked terrible, but all of that would be over soon.
'Yes, I know.' Marty answered. 'We will get the hostages out, Neville. Alive, I promise you.' It looked like Neville was drifting to unconsciencness, and Marty poked him to keep him awake. 'Do you hear me? We will get them out.'
'How?' Neville asked. 'We can't even get ourselves out of here.' For the first time in their partnership, Marty heard the hopelessness in Neville's voice.
Marty pulled out his pistol and cocked it. 'You have a weapon?' Neville whispered. 'How?'
'Shhhh.' Marty said. 'I'm going to get you out of here.' And he placed the muzzle to Neville's head.
By sheer reflex, Neville turned away. 'What are you doing?' he demanded. With the one turn, the room spun around him, and all his bruises started throbbing again. He wasn't sure what was happening, or if he could fight anyone off, but he had to try.
Marty followed him. 'Neville, I'm sorry it has to be this way. I will look after Porter and Clayton for you. Make sure they know you died for your country.'
'Marty please!' Neville was begging. What was Marty doing? Why was this happening?
'Someone has to die, Neville. But the plan will still go through, and the hostages will be returned to the US. That's what you want, isn't it?' Marty asked.
Neville couldn't believe what was happening. Marty said he would get him out, would get the hostages out, and he had a gun. Slowly things were falling into place. Neville felt he would get out, but it would be in a box.
'Don't do it.' He pleaded. 'We are partners, Marty, how could you do this?'
'Neville we want the hostages freed, right? I've made a deal, but it is falling apart. The money they gave me wasn't enough, and they want their money back or some revenge. Someone has to die Neville, and right now, I have to live to get the deal back on track, sell them arms and get those Americans back home. I will be sure you are cleared of any charges back home. I will see to it that the report shows you died for your country, for the safety of those other Americans. I'm sorry Neville. You have been a good friend, and a great partner, but the time has come.'
Federal Prison
Interrogation Room 7
1440 local time
'I shot him. Twice, in the head.'
The room was silent.
Clay was looking at him, but seeing his father. Smiling at him as they played catch in the yard, or racing down the beach after him, calling him, 'Clayton…Clayton, I going to get you! HA HA' His father's voice echoed in his head as if he had just spoken his name in the room. Clay closed his eyes, and tried to breath again.
Of all the stories, of all the truths Clay had discovered about his father over the years, he never once dreamed… My God, he is sitting right across from me now, I could just reach over and grab his throat and squeeze. No. I'm not a cold-blooded killer. I'm not like him. Clay thought, Clay hoped.
Marty broke the silence, and into Clay's thoughts. 'I'm sorry.'
There was no remorse in his eyes, at least none that Clay could see. None he wanted to see. It couldn't be that easy.
'The deal fell through the students never got any arms. It was all for nothing. He died for nothing.' The words were screaming in Clay's mind, but they came out of his dry throat in a raspy whisper.
'It saved my life. And we did get the hostages out alive eventually. I did help with that.' Marty said, thinking that might be answer enough.
Had my father lived, he would have gotten them out too, Clay thought, but did not have the heart to argue the point now. Not with Martin Armbruster. He wasn't worth the time.
Clay felt like asking a few more questions, but then thought better of it. He knew the rest anyway. The body was found later, Marty identified it, isn't that ironic, and the ashes were sent home.
Suddenly Clay couldn't stand being in the same room with him any longer. He stood up, scraping the chair back with his legs. He turned toward the door when Marty stopped him.
'There's one more thing.'
Clay stopped, but wouldn't look around.
'Everyone was watching me after that; the Feds, the White House, the group who financed the deal. They have always been watching at one time or another. Here.'
Clay could hear something sliding across the table. He turned around, and saw a piece of paper on the edge of the table. He picked it up and saw that there were some numbers written on it.
'That is the account with the money I kept. I've moved it around a few times, just to shake off any investigators, but I couldn't pull anything out of it. With the interest over the years, it is quite a lot of money now. Do something with it. Do some good with it. I don't care what. I can't ever use it now, and I hate thinking it is just sitting there for some government to claim some day.'
Clay crushed the paper into a wad with his fist, and left the room.
Epilogue
A few weeks later
Webb Residence
Alexandria, VA
1214 local time
Clay was working in his home office with the news on as he finished up a few things before the guests arrived; just a few friends, the Rabbs, AJ and the Roberts over for a Sunday barbeque. He wasn't that good at the grill, but Amy had confidence in him.
She stepped into the room now. 'Are you still in here? Everyone will be here in a few minutes.' She chided him.
He smiled and made one last save to his file before he closed his computer. As he did so, Amy turned up the volume on the news. The anchorperson was talking over a video showing a distinguished man in a dark suit being lead to a dark, unmarked car.
'Further fall out from a kidnapping case in Virginia has now grown into a federal conspiracy that spans 25 years. Assistant CIA Director Richard Vermeer was taken into custody today on charges of espionage, arms trafficking and collaboration with terrorist groups. A man already in custody for kidnapping, espionage, and treason implicated him. That man's name is being withheld by the authorities for his safety, and for reasons of national security.'
Amy looked over at her husband. He had not told her everything that had happened with Martin Armbruster. All Clay had said was that all the questions he had about his father had been answered, and the man that had killed him, and had ordered him killed will pay for their crimes. His father's murder would never be listed as a charge, but they would be in jail the rest of their lives for all that they had done over the years, and that was enough.
She saw no reaction to this news story on Clay's face, but he had been paying close attention. He seemed content the last few days, after a period of…the only word she use to describe his mood had been mourning. She thought now that he knew all the answers, it must have been like Neville dying all over again. She was there for him, and tried to comfort him, but these things take time. He had spent a lot of time with Claudia, and this seemed to help immensely.
As Clay packed up his computer things into his briefcase, the story changed.
'And on a lighter note, a man in a business suit, showed up yesterday at an elementary school in one of the poorest neighborhoods in DC, with a plan brown envelope addressed to the school principal. After assuring the school staff that it was not a bomb, the man left.'
'When the envelope was opened, several bundles of large denomination bills were discovered. An unsigned note accompanied the bills, instructing the school, to use the money for a new computer lab, and to update, and resupply the school library.'
'The principal was quoted as saying he had never seen so much money in one place in his life, and was already checking on new computers. And he wishes to thank the man, whoever he was, for his donation. It will be used wisely.'
The anchorperson went on with chitchat about how great a story that is, and how it gives them hope for all mankind, etc. Amy clicked the TV off, as Clay came around the front of the desk and stopped in front of his wife, a small smile gliding across his face.
'You had some errand to run yesterday, didn't you?' she asked smugly.
Clay just shrugged.
'Computer lab and library huh?' she asked.
'My father never saw computers come into the public domain, but if he had, he would have been a techno geek.' Clay assured her.
'Ahuh,' Amy said. 'And the library part?'
'My father took me on many trips to the library. He loved to read and just walk around looking and marveling at all the books.'
Amy looked at the office, which included several large bookshelves, filled with books, many from Neville's own collection. It was a testimony to the father's and son's love of books.
Amy smiled up at her husband, and casually brushed at a lock of hair that fell over his forehead. 'You're cute, you know that?' and she placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
He smiled at her, and returned the peck with a more thorough kiss, with promises of more later. 'So are you.' He said. And they left the office, arm and arm to prepare for their party.
The End
Don't know if there is more after this one. I have to see what other trouble I can make for Clay and Amy. Thanks for reading and reviewing and hanging in there between chapters! CV