Silence. That's what she noticed first. But it wasn't just quiet, it was dead quiet. She attempted to lift her head but the pounding pulled her back to her pillow like a magnet. She opened her eyes and let them adjust to the darkness before noticing the small amount of light at the edge of the room. She reached up to rub her temple to stave off the pain and flinched when something pulled at the back of her hand. Reaching across with her opposite hand, she felt the telltale signs of an IV and soothed the taunt skin. Her eyes settled on two blurry figures huddled in the corner near the door. Straining to hear anything, she watched the smaller figure's mouth move but heard nothing. The taller figure, whose back was to her, seemed to listen intently before gesturing toward her before leaving the room. She tugged at her ears and flexed her jaw to make them pop. Anything would be better than the silence. She stretched again, felt a pop and then a sharp pain just below her left ear before everything went dark.
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Lee quietly closed the door behind him and then rubbed his eyes before moving past the nurses' station. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in Amanda's room but sure enough, that grouchy nurse had caught him slouched in the chair next to her bed and kicked him out but not before he got an update on her status. 'No change but she's stable,' she had whispered in the dark recesses of the room. That hadn't surprised him, Amanda hadn't moved all night, he was certain he would have awoken if she had. He caught the raised brow of one of the nurses from behind the long desk and he shrugged as she shook her head in displeasure before going back to the chart in front of her.
'I guess they're used to me breaking the rules around here,' he thought as he pressed the elevator call button.
"Mr. Stetson," called a portly nurse and he turned to see she was holding out a manila envelope. "I was told to give this to you when I saw you. I had thought you left earlier in the evening. Imagine my surprise when one of my nurses informed me you just left Mrs. King's room." The no-nonsense look she threw his way told him she was none too pleased.
"Uh, I fell asleep," he offered lamely.
She held up her hand, "Save it, Mr. Stetson." The elevator bell dinged and she pushed the envelope into the middle of his chest and he backed up into the open car. "Take your file, and come back during regular visiting hours," she called out sternly.
He took the envelope from her and pulled out the file folder that read 'The Weatherman: Albert "Alby" Friedman,' before he scrambled to keep the doors from closing and poked his head out. "Wait! Who gave this to you," he called down the hallway?
The older woman turned around and called back, "An older, distinguished looking gentleman," Raising her hand about three inches above the top of her head to indicate his height, and then she added, "He was fit and had a buzz cut. He seemed most serious."
Lee's brow furrowed and he nodded his thanks before letting go of the doors to allow them to close before the alarm sounded. "Now who the Hell is this," he mumbled to the empty elevator car before greedily devouring the contents of the file.
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"Billy, I'm telling you this is our guy!" He slammed the file down on the desk in front of his boss. "Did you read the file," he asked excitedly. "Ninety-five percent conclusive that the same person that made the bomb that nearly killed Amanda in '72, is the same person that nearly did her in last night."
"Yes, Scarecrow. I read the file."
"And?" he asked impatiently.
"And, what?" He stared at Lee expectantly.
"I want to talk to this guy. Can you get me a warrant?"
"No need," he replied calmly and handed the younger agent back the file.
"Bil-ly! Don't you want to get this guy? Make him pay for hurting one of your own?" Why was he being so cagey?
"Of course, I want this guy, Scarecrow," he boomed. "Why do you think I ordered Francine and Fielder to bring this Friedman person in at the crack of dawn?"
"What?"
"They're in Interrogation Room 2," he answered with a knowing smile.
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'This is our bomb maker,' Lee questioned skeptically before rapping his knuckles abruptly on the two-way mirror and waiting impatiently for the two other agents to excuse themselves from the interrogation room in front of him.
"What have you found out so far," he asked just as the door shut behind Fielder.
"Nothing yet. We just got in there," the other man retorted.
"Good! Then you won't mind if I take over for you, Fred," he stated matter-of-factly and guided Francine back toward the room from which she had just come.
Francine pressed her hand against his chest and scolded, "Lee –"
"Now, wait just a minute, Scarecrow! You can't just come in here and take over. Mr. Melrose asked Francine and I -"
"He asked you to pick up this guy and get him to interrogation. And so, you did. Now, Francine and I will take over." He patted him on the shoulder and growled in Francine's ear, "Let's get in there, Desmond."
Francine glanced back at Fred and shrugged.
Lee's hand hovered over the door handle and stared into her eyes. "Remember that scientist in Milan back in '81?" At her nod he continued, "Okay, you take the lead and I'll jump in."
"Okay, Mr. Friedman. Let's start from the top . . ."
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Lee stared at the middle-aged man across the room from him. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was listening to an accountant or professor. Hell, even a mild-mannered librarian. But he did know better. This man was a terrorist. Francine had only just begun to peel the many layers of the man, and they'd already learned that he had been the one to design and build the bomb that was meant to take down the Capital building years ago and would have except for a young, undercover agent who helped take them down instead.
"How is it that you were never implicated," the blonde asked.
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"I mean, all of the top leaders of the Weathermen group are serving life sentences," she shook her head. "Certainly, at least one of them would have found it easy to throw you under the bus in order to shave some time off their sentence," she watched him expectantly.
He rubbed the back of his neck before leaning back in his chair and sighing. "I guess, I have some loyal friends."
"Speaking of loyalty," she pulled the file sitting on the table in front of her closer and flipped it open. "Is there anyone that you would be loyal to, Mr. Friedman," she raised a brow. "Perhaps, loyal enough to come out of retirement for one more job?"
"Ms. Desmond, I haven't come out of retirement for anyone. I told you before, I left that world behind after the Capital incident."
"That's interesting that you would say that," she continued to flip through the documents in the folder.
He stared at her fingernails as they tapped against the metal table; the staccato seemingly adding to his nervousness, "Why is that interesting?" His attempt to read the file upside down did not go unnoticed by either Francine or Lee.
"Hmmm? Oh, I just find it interesting that a man of your caliber. Your work is so superior to others that we've come up against. I find it surprising that you would want anyone else to claim your obvious . . . craftmanship." She gazed at him seemingly mesmerized. "But then, maybe it's just a copycat. There is someone else out there that is your equal when it comes to bomb making. I wouldn't have thought it possible after reading about your magnificent work but –"
"You find my work magnificent," he asked surprised.
"Oh, how could I not? I mean, the precision you take and the meticulous wiring to the main box . . . Of course, we're on opposite sides, but I have to give credit where credit is due." She watched as a small smile began to peek its way onto his face before he caught himself.
He coughed, as if pulling himself together, "As I said, I've been retired for 15 years."
"Well, no matter. We already swabbed your hands for residue. It's only a matter of time before the labs come back. But then, you did say you're retired, so it shouldn't be an issue. Isn't that right, Mr. Friedman," she smiled sweetly at him.
"Ms. Desmond, could um . . . I have some . . . water?" he asked suddenly finding it difficult to speak.
Francine gave Lee a quick sidelong glance and he nodded subtly. "Sure, I'll just go grab that."
Lee waited a beat after she left the room, then stood and very loudly dragged his chair toward the table so that he was a mere two inches from the other man.
"Um, I don't think I got your name," Alby squeaked out nervously.
Lee just glared and said nothing.
"Ms. Desmond introduced herself and that other gentleman, uh, Mr. Fields, but you never . . ." he gulped looking away from Lee's death stare. "Uh, that is you nev . . .," he stopped talking and looked anywhere but at the stern man nearly an inch away now.
Lee was well aware that Francine was watching on the other side of the wall and would wait for his signal before returning to the room, so he waited patiently, silently.
"What is it you want from me?" he whined.
"Tell me who ordered the hit?"
"What hit?"
Lee's two hands were wrapped around the other man's shirt color and began twisting before he could blink. "Don't play games with me, Friedman," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Which one of your Weathermen buddies pulled you from supposed retirement?"
Gasping for air and tugging on Lee's hands unsuccessfully, he finally answered, "Okay, it was Tony!" Lee relented only enough for Alby to call out more clearly, "Tony Caputo called me."
Lee threw the other man back into his chair and pulled himself and his chair even closer. "And what did your old friend Tony have to say?"
"He wanted – he made me plant the bomb in Mandy's car," he sobbed. "But I couldn't . . . I mean, I didn't want to really kill her. She was always so nice to me. I never believed April and Tony's conspiracy that she set him up."
"Mandy?" Lee questioned.
"Yeah, Mandy West. She was Tony's girlfriend back in grad school. Well, she and her roommate, April Martin were working on their undergrads at Virginia Tech and Tony and I were finishing our studies."
"Why would Tony wait this long to kill this Mandy person?" Lee asked, dreading the answer.
"We all thought she had died in the first bo . . ." he stopped when he obviously realized he'd just given himself up on another crime.
"Yeah, we have you tied to several bombs; at this point you'll be serving several life sentences, so you may as well come clean. Clean conscience and all that," he indicated the other man should continue.
"We thought she had been killed not long after Tony went away."
"What changed?"
"April, Tony's girlfriend got some intel from a family member or something on a Fed who had come to visit Tony recently. So, get this, she goes to this guy's place and sees none other than the ghost of Mandy West – alive and well."
The muscle in Lee's jaw tightened and focused on his breathing, as to not give anything else away. 'Too late now, Stetson. The damage is done, she was nearly killed because of you,' his inner voice chided.
"Sir?"
The door popped open and Francine entered with a cup of water and placed it in front of their suspect. "Sorry, it took me so long. The drinking fountain was out of order, I had to go down to the next floor."
"Thanks," he replied and gulped the beverage down.
"If you'll excuse us for a moment," she nodded for Lee to follow her out of the room and he did as if on autopilot. Once the door closed, she exclaimed, ""Mandy West? Amanda is somehow mixed up in all of this? Explain, Scarecrow!"
He studied the other man through the two-way glass and mumbled, "I screwed up."