CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Paige snatched a tissue from the box on her desk and dabbed at her eyes as Walter approached her, his anxiety plainly etched into his face. "Paige, I. . ."

"I'm fine," she interrupted, giving him a quivering smile. "I was so scared you were going to be deported and now that you're not. . . I'm just so happy." And she was. She had been so afraid of losing him for even a short time, of having to raise another child alone, of having Ralph retreat back into his shell. The fact he was staying filled her with enormous relief.

She held back a laugh at his confusion, knowing he still hadn't grasped the concept of 'happy tears.' "I talked to Cabe," he began, telling her of his decision not to take anymore out-of-town cases.

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do." He glanced down at her belly before returning his gaze to hers. "I want to be here for you."

"I want you here too. But the baby isn't due for almost three weeks," she said, "and I was in labor with Ralph for over thirty hours. That's plenty of time to get back here from just about anywhere in the world. Walter. . ." Pausing for a breath, she continued, "What if Scorpion passes on a case and people die because we didn't help?"

She already knew the answer. He'd never be able to live with himself, knowing he could have saved lives by using his genius. It was a burden she didn't want him to have to bear.

He lowered his gaze but not before she glimpsed the conflict in his eyes. "That. . .That would be, be unfavorable," he replied as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You'd never forgive yourself." Paige tried to hoist herself out of her chair. He rushed to her side and helped her to her feet.

"Okay, I'll tell Cabe. But no one is more import. . .important to me than you. And Ralph. And him." He placed his hand on her belly.

"I know we've said this before," she said, "but we really need to come up with a name for this poor kid."

"Yeah, um, maybe we can, uh, can think of something. . .after we get back. Later. . ."

"I had something else in mind for later." Her lips twitched into a grin. "Our own little after party. Maybe you can show me another one of those positions you've researched?"

His eyes grew wide as his cheeks flushed bright red. "Um, sure, he mumbled, his gaze aimed at his shoes. "I, uh. . . I better go get m-my. . .my gear. I. . .I need to. . .to pack the, um, the comms."

Pleased she could still get him so flustered, she decided she should take pity on him. "Don't forget your phone. The comms won't work on the plane because it acts as a Faraday cage."

Her comment must have surprised him for a second before his mouth curled into a grin. "That's correct."

"Well, I have picked up a thing or two hanging around with a bunch of geniuses," she replied as she glanced over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think they're ready to go."

Walter looked past her to see Happy, Toby, and Cabe waiting impatiently by the door. He was halfway to his desk when he came to a halt. "Oh, sh. . ."

"What?" Paige asked as he turned back in her direction.

He pulled out his phone. "My battery's dead."

"Take mine," she offered, reaching into her purse and finding her cell. "I'll charge yours while you're gone."

"Okay, thanks." He took her phone from her and stuck it in his pocket before drawing her into an embrace. She slid her arms around his neck. His hands slipped down to the small of her back as she pulled his head downward until their foreheads touched.

"You be careful, okay?" she said.

He trembled as she wove her fingers into the curls at the back of his head. "I-I will. Y-You be, be careful, too."

She laughed. "I'm going to be doing paperwork and planning a party," she said. "Maybe take a nap. Hardly dangerous activities."

"No, but. . ."

She didn't give him a chance to finish as she pressed her mouth to his. Walter closed his eyes as her tongue tangled with his causing shivers up and down his spine. Something about the way she was kissing him. The way she was clinging to him. . . She wasn't as nonchalant about him being gone as she wanted him to think.

Across the room he heard someone, most likely Cabe, loudly clear their throat. "I better go," he murmured as they came up for air.

"Yeah." She seemed as reluctant to let go as he was, holding on for a long moment before finally stepping back. "I love you," she said, giving him one last peck on the lips.

"Love you, too." Heading toward his desk to gather up his gear, a wave of panic washed over him. He tried to shake it off, but dread still lingered in the pit of his stomach. It was total nonsense, probably just residual separation anxiety left over from their hostage ordeal. They would be able to communicate with each other. Sly would be with her most of the day. He needed to stop worrying and concentrate in completing their mission in a timely fashion. She would be fine. If only he could convince himself to believe it.

Snatching up his backpack, he shot one last glance in her direction before heading out the door.

ooooo

"I'm so bored, man," Toby announced as he stepped out of the aircraft. "Boardman Bombing Range? Bored, man? Get it? Ow!"

"You're gonna get my foot up your ass," threatened Happy after slapping the back of his head, knocking his hat to the ground.

The shrink bent down to pick it up, using his leg to brush it off. "I thought Oregon was supposed to be one giant rainforest," he said as he glanced around. "That's obviously one giant lie. "I've been to deserts damper than this."

Walter surveyed the arid landscape which stretched for miles in every direction. Toby was right, it was pretty bleak.

"Most the rain falls on the western side of the Cascade Range," Sylvester said in his ear. "They act as a moisture barrier, causing the eastern side of the state to be much drier. And technically, it's not a desert, it's the Columbia Plateau. . ."

"It's a desert," the behaviorist contradicted, interrupting the human calculator's geography lesson.

"Stop fooling around and focus," Walter snapped, tired of Toby's complaining. "Get our equipment unloaded. Happy. . .Cabe. . .?"

As the mechanic and the agent headed toward the plane's cargo hold, the shrink sidled up beside him. "Just because you're worried about Paige doesn't mean you get to take it out on the rest of us."

"I'm not taking anything out on anybody," Walter lied, disliking the other man could read him so easily. Pointing toward the others, he added, "Go help Happy and Cabe."

"Okay, Mr I'm-in-Denial Boss Man." Toby walked off but not before giving him a salute which Walter was sure was sarcastic since it involved the behaviorist's middle finger.

"Hey, Walter."

"Sly? What's up?" Realization dawned on him the other member of the team left behind had yet to check in. "Sylvester, where's Paige?"

"She's in the bathroom," the younger genius whispered.

"Is she okay?"

"I guess so. It's the fourth time she's gone since you guys left three hours ago."

Walter did the calculations in his head. One hundred eighty minutes divided by four. . . So approximately a trip to the bathroom every forty-five minutes, as per her usual average. The sound of approaching engines drew his attention and he glanced up to see two vehicles kicking up billowing clouds of dust.

"They just sent us a map of the depot," Sylvester said in his ear. "I've emailed it to your phone."

"Copy that." Walter waved away the dirty air as the jeep and truck braked to a halt in front of him. He slid his cell from his pocket as a man dressed in a khaki uniform emerged from the passenger side of the jeep.

"Captain Holbrook, commander of the Umatilla Chemical Depot," the man said. "You must be Team Scorpion."

"Yes. I'm Walter O'Brien." He noticed the captain didn't extend his hand so he kept his own by his side. "Uh. . ."

"What the hell is that?" the captain asked. Walter followed his gaze and saw Toby and Cabe lifting their ground scanning equipment from the plane's cargo hold as Happy fussed over it. "It looks like it built with spare bicycle parts."

"It was built with spare baby stroller parts," the mechanic corrected with a touch of anger in her tone. "But it works."

"If you say so," the captain sneered. Walter was afraid Happy was about to punch the man if the expression on her face was anything to go by.

"It found dog tags of US soldiers in a Vietnamese jungle during a tornado," he declared before she could make a fist. "If there are any canisters buried here, we will find them."

"I hope so. This whole incident has been an embarrassment," Holbrook said.

"Yes, because being chemically burned to death by blister agents is such an embarrassment," Toby muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Shut it, Doc," growled Cabe as Happy smacked the back of the shrink's head.

Walter frowned as the captain tightened his mouth. The other man probably thought Scorpion was comprised of incompetent smart asses.

"Corporals Werhan and Sawyer will assist your team." Holbrook pointed to the two men waiting by the truck. "The depot covers nearly two thousand acres and contains one thousand igloos. . ."

"Igloos? Wouldn't they mel. . .?" Toby's question died on his lips as Happy glared at him.

The captain ignored the psychiatrist's interruption. "We've done aerial recognizance and pinpointed fifteen possible unauthorized disposal locations. You should have received a map. . ."

"Why do you need us then?" Walter asked. "If you've already found the containers. . ." Dammit, had they made this trip for nothing? He could have been back at the garage. . .with Paige. . .instead of wasting his time on an extraneous and hazardous mission.

"Our radar only detected anomalies in the soil," the captain stated. "It's impossible to know if they're canisters or some other kind of metallic object. Your, uh, equipment," he added snidely, "supposedly will let us know what exactly we're looking at."

Walter didn't appreciate another jibe about the capabilities of their ground penetrating radar. "Fine," he said. "Let's get started."

"Good luck." With that, Holbrook strode back to his waiting vehicle, its driver making a u-turn to head back the way they came.

Slipping his phone from his pocket, Walter checked his messages. Only they weren't his messages, they were Paige's. "Dammit," he muttered as he tapped his comm. "Sylvester?"

"Walter, what's wrong?" The sound of Paige's voice immediately calmed his frustration. He explained the phone mix up as he climbed into the back of the transport, taking a seat next to Cabe. "I'm sending the info to you now," she said.

"Thanks," he acknowledged before adding as casually as he could, "Uh, so how's it going?"

"I'm fine, Walter," she replied and he could hear her exasperation loud and clear. "Stop worrying about me. I'm not the one who's searching for chemical weapons."

She had a point. "Understood." He watched as an image downloaded onto the phone's screen. A groan escaped him as the map showed widely scattered circles between the numerous bunkers.

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us, don't it, kid," said the Homeland agent as he looked over at the cell in Walter's hand. Which a moment later he nearly dropped as the truck lurched forward.

"Yeah." It was going to take hours to scan all fifteen locations. Hours he could be with Paige. He let out a weary sigh and hung on as the deeply rutted road nearly bounced him out of his seat.

ooooo

Walter rolled up his shirt sleeves as he watched Happy slowly push the radar over another patch of dirt.. So far they'd scanned eight of the possible sites and had yet to find a canister. He was beginning to believe the cache which resulted in the deaths was a fluke and they were wasting their time on a wild goose chase.

It was already after one o'clock and hotter than it should be for October. If they came up empty this time, he planned to call for break so they could find some shade and eat whatever they had stashed in their packs.

"Hey, I think I got something," the mechanic announced as she pulled her contraption back about a foot

"Ooo, what is it this time?" asked Toby. "I hope it's another tin can."

"Zip it, numbnuts," she said before pointing at the screen. "Look."

Walter and Cabe joined the shrink as they all crowded around Happy. "Watch what happens when I move forward." An image of a long cylindrical object scrolled across the screen as she advanced the radar.

"Well, I'll be damned," said the agent. "Let's get the shovels."

She held up her hand. "Wait. I need to see if there are more of them and someone needs to mark the locations."

"I don't see why we can't use a backhoe," Toby complained as the mechanic recommenced her search. "It's not like we'll be digging blind."

"Too risky. You just don't want to get your dainty little hands dirty," said Cabe.

"Well, there is that." The behaviorist smirked as he waved his hands at the older man's face.

Walter rolled his eyes as he strode over to the truck and began unloading shovels. One of the soldiers, whose name tag read 'Werhan,' opened a storage bin on the outside of the truck. "Here," he said, holding out several gas masks, "we might need these."

Taking one of the grim reminders of the dangerous nature of their task, he slipped it on over his head and adjusted the straps. The inside of the mask smelled musty as if it had been stored for at least a decade, if not longer.

Following behind Happy, Cabe and the other corporal, Sawyer, were placing little flags indicating the spots where the containers were resting. "I think that's all of them," said the mechanic as she pushed the radar unit over one last tussock of dried grass.

"You think or you know?" asked Walter as he and Werhan passed out masks and shovels. Given the gravity of the situation, guesswork was not an option in his opinion.

"I know," she replied. "There's ten containers clustered in that area," she added, pointing to where the markers flapped in the breeze, "and I've covered an extra fifty square feet surrounding them just to be sure."

"Sounds good to me." Toby adjusted his hat before gripping his shovel. "I'm really gonna be digging this."

"Shut up, Toby," Walter, Cabe, and Happy said all at the same time. The shrink just smirked.

Walter positioned himself next to one of the flagged sites, Happy on his left and Werhan on his right. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he drove his shovel into the compacted earth, using his foot to press the blade down into the soil. Tossing aside the dirt he scooped out, he repeated his action.

Metal hit metal. Unable to stop his momentum, the shovel pierced through the canister buried only inches beneath the ground.

"Oh, shit."