Chapter Thirty

Tell

Any habit or behavior that gives other players more information about your hand than they would have simply from your play.

o

Dorian stared at the folder for what seemed like forever before he finally took it from Klaus's hand. He sat down before opening it, which turned out to be a good thing. He paged through the papers, growing paler and paler. "It's a fake," he said as he came to the photos of the mangled body with a bloodied head of long blond curls. "It… It has to be a fake."

"That's what I thought, too," Klaus agreed and held out a large envelope.

"What's that?" Dorian asked suspiciously.

"The DNA comparison."

"DNA?" Dorian swallowed hard. "You tested my DNA?"

Klaus nodded. "I tested everyone's DNA—Marshall and Gloria." He continued to hold out the envelope. "The results are conclusive."

oOoOoOo

"Noooooo!"

Everyone in the main house jumped at the banshee-like scream that came from the direction of the guest house. Guns came out of nowhere and the Alphabet took the lead, charging to the door, only to stop when they saw Dorian standing in the middle of the garden in the pouring rain wearing only his pajamas. He was also screaming at the top of his voice.

"He's told him," came Bonham's quiet voice.

Everyone exchanged glances, nodded, and withdrew. There was nothing any of them could do but wait until the Earl had calmed down. Best to leave things to the Major.

Bonham threw a glance to the bewildered members of Eroica's gang before going out to the guest house. The Major had put a robe over his pajamas and was standing at the open doorway calmly watching Dorian scream into the night.

"You've told him." A statement.

Klaus nodded but did not take his eyes off Dorian as Bonham stepped out of the rain to join him under the overhang. Dorian was storming the grounds, apparently uncertain what to do with himself. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and crossed to what Klaus thought was a tool shed.

"He's going to the vault," Bonham observed.

Klaus finally turned his eyes in the older man's direction. "Vault? Through there?"

"Come on."

Klaus found himself just as amazed as his men had been when the elevator to the vault suddenly rose out of the floor of the shed. He looked over at Bonham in silent inquiry. The man shook his head. "I'll leave him to you, Major."

Klaus stepped onto the platform. Before the controls were activated, he held up a hand. "He'll need some more dry clothes."

"I'll see to it."

Klaus nodded and saw Bonham disappear through the door a moment before the lift carried him into the floor. He gave the large subterranean vault only a cursory glance before he focused his attention on the man across the room. Dorian had a crowbar in his hand and was in the process of breaking open wooden packing crates. He had already opened one and tossed the masterpiece from within carelessly onto the concrete floor. The puddle of water that was forming around him was threatening to spill over to it any second.

"Dorian…"

"Don't call me that!" the Earl spat, spinning on his heel. "Don't call me anything! I'm nobody! I don't exist!"

"Don't be an idiot," Klaus snapped. "Of course you exist." It's a name no one can take from you now.

Dorian gave a snarl, turning back to his work. He tossed his dripping hair over his shoulder before jamming the crowbar into the wooden crate. "How long have you known?"

"I told you I suspected…"

Dorian spun around again. "I know what you told me. I want to know when you knew!"

"M found the folder just after your stunt in Korea."

"Christ! Why didn't you tell me?"

Klaus crossed his arms. "Because I wanted to make sure it wasn't a fake." Dorian opened his mouth but was cut off. "They could've put any name on that file, couldn't they? Used it for a cover. There were no computer networks like there are now. No DNA. No fingerprint database. They were already planning on doing plastic surgery. So what if it came a little earlier because of an auto accident?"

Dorian put a hand to his spinning head. "God! What did I let them do to me? Indoctrination. Programming by video tape. Why stop after something as insignificant as a death when everything's already on tape?"

He turned back to continue venting his rage on the wood, cursing in every language he knew. He cursed the CIA, NATO, everyone involved with Project: Eroica, from the recruiters to Director Tomlinson. When he finally ran out of crates, having yanked out the long missing masterpieces within, he just smashed at the wood.

Klaus was afraid he would hurt himself, or worse, his beloved artwork, and crossed the room, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Dorian, stop."

The Earl spun around, and raised the hand holding the crowbar, only to have his wrist caught in a powerful grip, the bar stripped from his hand.

"You're gonna ruin the paintings."

"I don't care!" Dorian bellowed, pulling his arm free.

"Since when? Was that a part of the act, too?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Klaus regretted having said them. He did not even attempt to stop the blow as Dorian slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. He staggered back slightly, but did not retaliate. I deserved that.

"Don't talk to me about acts, Major! Just leave me alone."

"Fine." I'm only making things worse anyway. Klaus tossed the crowbar to the floor, turned on his heel, and stormed from the vault, returning to the guest house where he hoped there was a good supply of liquor in stock. He planned on getting very drunk.

oOoOoOo

An hour later, an exhausted and semi-dry Dorian came out of the vault and searched the darkened guest house, finally finding Klaus sitting out on the screened porch watching the rain. He only realized the officer was there when he saw the glowing end of a lit cigarette in his mouth. Then he noticed a candle burning low on a table beside him. There was also a bottle of something that was very probably alcoholic. The ashtray near this evidenced the fact that the cigarette in the man's hand was by no means his first.

"Klaus…?" Dorian said mildly as he came out the door.

Klaus did not reply. He knocked back the contents of the glass in his hand, going on to pour another. Then he took a drag off his cigarette.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

"Sit down and shut up," Klaus snapped, taking a gulp of his drink. "You didn't want to talk. Now I don't."

Dorian did not reply. He turned and vanished inside the house. When he returned, he had changed into the dry clothes that had been left for him. He also had a bottle of gin and a glass in his hands. He sat down and then poured himself a drink. "This is one hell of a mess," he muttered as he took a sip.

Klaus replied with a grunt and continued to watch the rain.

"I feel like…I'm in free fall," Dorian said as he leaned back in his chair. "It was all so clear. And now it's all…so not." He turned to look at the man beside him, the glow of his cigarette illuminating his face as he took a drag on it. Is that…? His mouth dropped open. "My God, Klaus, are you crying?" he gasped.

Klaus turned to look at him. "No." But I wish I knew how right about now. "You're not the only one in free fall."

Dorian sighed, putting a hand to his head, uncertain how to reply.

"When you said you were CIA," Klaus said quietly, "that it was all a charade, I felt like…the world had ended. Then NATO tells me it's more than that. It's bigger. That you could be..." He drew a deep breath. "Even they don't know how fucked up it is."

"No."

Dorian silently watched the officer for several minutes. It could not have been easy keeping everything from him, knowing what his reaction would be. "When did you start smoking again?" he asked quietly.

"About an hour ago." Klaus slid the pack across the table.

Dorian felt on the verge of apologizing again and stopped himself. He'd apologized enough. He sighed heavily, taking a gulp of his drink before picking up the pack and pulling out a cigarette. Then he used the candle on the table to light it.

"What were you unpacking down there?" Klaus asked conversationally.

Dorian heard the chair creak as Klaus sat back. In the dim light, he wasn't sure if he had closed his eyes or not. "Oh, that..." He gave a small chuckle. "Some paintings I've been meaning to have hung for…a very long time."

"Stolen, naturally." A statement not an accusation.

"My men needed something to keep them busy while I was recovering from my nervous breakdown. I'm probably gonna have another one, when I finally put my mind to it." Dorian sat back taking a drag on the cigarette. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smoked one. "Funny thing is," he went on, "I never bothered to do anything with the paintings once I had them. There's an excellent Vermeer down there that I'm sure the Boston Museum would like to know is in…good hands."

Klaus gave a small grunt but did not reply.

Again, a silence fell between them.

"What…?" Dorian ventured finally. He drew a deep breath. "What are you gonna do with all that in there?"

Klaus finished what was in his glass before he turned to him. "You haven't seen everything yet."

"Shit, I really am gonna have another breakdown."

"Not if I can help it," Klaus said seriously.

Dorian gave him a searching look, but could not read his features in the dark. I believe you'll really try your damnedest, Major.

"There's more than just that one box," Klaus was saying. "I'm having everything scanned into a database, and the videos copied to DVDs." He drew another drag off his cigarette. "John Paul is assisting A in getting a sampling together for me. The audio recordings that were made in Virginia, scans of the autopsy, your files…"

"Files? Plural?"

Klaus nodded and got to his feet, crushing out what was left of his cigarette at the same time. "I'll show you."

"I don't think…"

"The sooner you know everything, the sooner we can move forward." Klaus paused, his voice dropping in pitch. "Agent Marshall has one last duty to perform before he…"

"Is eliminated?"

"Retires."

oOoOoOo

NEXT: Chapter Thirty-One - Pair