"Should I go and wake her up, Sir? I mean, the doc said he'll want to see her the first thing this morning and probably comes shortly..."
George Cowley, the feared and respected chief of Criminal Intelligence 5, shook his head. Bodie had seldom seen him so visibly tired. "Not yet, Bodie... there's something I need to speak about first." But all that followed was silence.
Agent William Bodie was baffled. There was something wrong, clearly... terribly wrong. For the first time during all his years in the service of CI5, he had a feeling his chief was afraid to tell him something. Something must have happened during the night. His chief gestured towards the table where he had laid some breakfast. But Bodie didn't have lust to fill his stomach which felt cold.
"Sir?"
The older man walked to a window, turning his back on his sitting subordinate.
"I broke her last night, Bodie." He finally turned to face the wide-eyed younger man.
"You... what?"
There was a deep sigh. "I broke her. I'm so sorry, Bodie. I felt I had to... she was so close to the edge, so very close... I had to do that before she would take the last step..."
Bodie swallowed. "Edge... " He understood. He didn't want to, but he did.
"The thing is... I don't know how much I hurt her. Damaged her." The older man turned back to look out from the window.
Bodie looked down to his hands. "Considering the alternative..." The coldness had spread all through him. "So... we were right then." He felt sick.
"Aye... you were." Silence. "I had wished you were not."
Bodie nodded to the turned back. He had wished that too.
The old Scot was gently nudged back to present. He took the cup of coffee the younger man offered him. They both stood watching out to the bleak wintery patch of garden, gradually exposed to strengthening light. "What happened, Sir?" Seeing the face just as dim and bleak as the garden, the agent understood. "Just... just the bits that are relevant. That's enough."
"She fell asleep again sometime after you had left." Silence again. "And then I heard sounds... I peeked in, she was having nightmares, talking in her sleep... Mixing Spanish and English... I woke her up." Mr Cowley remembered his coffee and took a sip. "She... she didn't talk about it, the dream. Only told me she was all right and that I could go. I left her door ajar." Silence again. "She stayed quiet... but I could tell she wasn't sleeping. Not for hours." And what kept you awake then? wondered Bodie.
"I went in finally. Started to chat her up. This and that, questions about the ranch, her brother, all sorts of things... told her about all kinds of incidents, of Scotland, you, Doyle... to make her relax. Och Bodie, you know the drill." Bodie knew it all right. He had used numerous versions of it himself, in- and outside the interrogation rooms, dozens of times, just like every fellow agent. But none in CI5 quite matched that old wolf standing beside him. And none hated interrogations as much as their chief, doing them only in direst need. "Too many, Bodie, too deep. Curse of being too good. Beware of it, lad." But never had Bodie seen such clear pain in the eyes of the inquisitor, as he saw now.
"She gave all the right answers, all the right comments, all the right reactions in all the right places... never faltering. Too easy, too calm, too flawless... too intelligent. It was clear she had made a decision. All too clear. She only wanted to get us distracted." Bodie could only nod. He had to put his cup down as he felt sudden nausea. "So I changed my tactics." That's what made CI5 Controller George Cowley so damn good. Ability to adapt. They both knew that. Another part of the curse.
"I started to... ask her about the hospitals. Small things first, innocent things. But they got her enough off balance. Caused her the first discomfort." Deep, deep sigh. "And I pushed on... until I reached Anita."
Bodie gasped, appalled. "Sir, you wouldn't..."
His chief turned suddenly and stared him straight into his eyes. "I had to, man. It is the key to everything. Don't you see it? With her daughter, she lost all she had to live for. The last bit. She was barely existing. Existing because she wasn't given a chance to get away." Seeing the still shocked face of Bodie, the older man grabbed his collar. "Do you think that I wanted to do that? Do you think I enjoyed seeing her shatter into pieces in front of me?" His face was twisted.
"Sir... please, Sir, I never thought that. I don't. I know you care about her." But I never knew how much. Not until now. Christ, it's as if you had murdered your own daughter. Bodie's palm was against his chief's chest, calming, placating.
"I'm sorry, Bodie..." the older man let go the grip. "I'm sorry, lad." He straightened Bodie's collar.
"It's ok, gov'nor. I know... I know it must have felt terrible." Bodie knew he himself would never have been able to do what his chief had done.
"Aye... " another deep sigh. "Aye. When she was shot... when she had realised she wouldn't stand a chance against Smythe, she had hoped to die. She said... she said that to wake up at the ITU was the worst disappointment ever in her life... And that all she wants is to be with her family..." He couldn't continue for a while. "She had decided to take a trip. For us, she would have left a message it would be some convalescent home. For hospital and her brother, some place else. But she said that you and Doyle had ruined it all." His voice was very quiet.
Bodie gave a long, shaky sigh. "Thank God for that. And thank God for that suspicious nurse who phoned when she heard Anna was signing out on her own..." And thank God you gave in and allowed us to bring her to you, old man.
Mr Cowley turned towards the table, laid down the cup that had been almost totally forgotten in his hand. "She cried finally... it felt like hours. Maybe even was. Until she fell silent and slept. She hasn't budged ever since."
Bodie watched his chief rub his eyes. "Have you slept, Sir?"
He was given a bleak smile. "Not much... but I manage. It wasn't the first sleepless night for me and certainly won't be the last either. I've got used to that over the years."
Doorbell rang. "That must be the doc. I get it, Sir." Bodie headed towards the door, then hesitated and halted. "Sir... thank you. For everything."
His chief scratched the yet unshaved cheek – unheard of, this time of morning. "Ach, you probably are the only one who feels like thanking. I certainly don't. But let good Stephen in now so I will get my scolding."
"I would really appreciate if you didn't barge in like that when I'm shaving, Stephen" growled the Scot. "Almost cut my damned artery."
The seasoned doctor didn't flinch from the bathroom door. "Would have served you right, George. Too bad I might have been quick enough to give you the first aid though. Listen: that woman should bloody hell be in a hospital!" It was fascinating, the way dr Stephen Hoskins managed to shout while keeping his voice down. But then again, he had decades of experience.
The other man sighed. "And you think I don't know that? I may have become slower with years but I'm not that thick. Still she can't be kept there against her will for as long as she's considered lucid. Or do you say she isn't?"
The gray-haired doctor cursed. "She's bright enough. But I simply can't believe that anyone in her right mind would voluntarily sign out in that condition, unless she wants to..." he fell silent for a moment. "Good Lord, George."
The blade was moving again. "Exactly."
The medic let out a curse before he sighed. "But why is she here? I thought you'd left entertaining young women. Or is she one of your agents?"
Blade was still moving smoothly. Few and far between were the men who still were as skillful with razor blade. "She's a friend of mine and a very dear friend of two of my men. Bodie and Doyle heard she was signing out without medical consent, and as they guessed what it was about, they talked me into taking her under my eye for a while, until some sensible solution. She does seem to have some respect for me and I had taken some days off, which I hadn't granted the lads."
Stephen was quiet for a moment, watching his old friend, one of the very few people he still was ready to do favours for. "And she's the one who took the bullets for you?"
George sighed again. "Aye. So I didn't much feel being in position to decline. Even I do have some decency."
His friend grunted. "Doesn't that lady have a family to take care of her?"
Last stroke with the blade. Done. "She has lost everyone else but her brother who happens to reside in Mexico. Military." The Scot turned the water running.
"Oh bloody hell... But the fact is that she's not doing well. She should have stayed in the hospital for at least ten days more, or a fortnight. Just to be on the safe side. The extent of the damage..." The old medic was shaking his head.
"Anything drastic right now?"
The doctor was biting his lip. "No... not that way. I mean, nothing that has started acutely now. I took a couple of tubes for bloodwork though as I didn't get a word out of her without using forceps, and it was hard to get her awake to begin with. She's totally knackered, George, totally. Her heart-rate and blood pressure are still as bad as yesterday. I put her on antibiotics last night because of the slight fever you warned me of. I might not usually have done that but her general weakness is what frightens me. And... her eyes. I've seen those before..."
That made George to turn towards him. "Aye... I know you have." The two looked at each other, both thinking of the camp.
Finally the doctor nodded. "Well... considering the circumstances, maybe your boys did make the right decision in bringing her to you. But I don't like this, George. I do not like this at all."
The Controller was already using his towel. "None of us does, Stephen. And she the least."
Stephen sighed. "Well I noticed she must have tried to cry her heart out last night."
"Aye, she did. However, we have to take one day at the time." The old Scot clapped the shoulder of his old friend. "Now, join us for some breakfast or coffee. That gives you the chance to brief us about food you'd recommend to her, and the size of her portions. We need to do serious shopping anyway as I didn't know in time I'd have extra mouths to feed. And even if Anna doesn't have much appetite, Bodie more than compensates for that if he's around when there's food on the table."
"Hello George, thought to drop by as I heard you're not in your office... Oh. Is this inconvenient time?" The Home Secretary's gaze got fixed somewhere over Controller's shoulder.
The Scot sighed. Bloody hell, the last thing he needed was surprise visitors. He really would have to phone the caretaker and ask him to start heating the country-house. He'd better get Anna out of town as soon as possible. Maybe even tonight. "Come in, Minister, come in..." and he introduced the two to each other. Anna, who had been extremely quiet during the whole day, gave a faint smile and when the Controller led his visitor towards the study, she excused herself and went into her room.
Mr Cowley saw the other man's eyes burn with curiosity when the bedroom door closed. Hell, the man hardly stayed in his skin... "Now, George... I have to confess I'm intrigued... None of the files I've read suggest you'd have any female American relatives."
The Controller pushed the glass of whisky into the other man's hand in quite less than hearty manner. "She's not my mistress. That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it, Minister? Besides, her name is, unfortunately, in your files on me. You've been lazy reading lately if you haven't caught that."
The Minister was a bit startled, George Cowley maybe wasn't the most civil of the civil servants, but they usually got well along. "Now, George, you haven't got much added to your file since you returned to duty..." The click happened. "Oh, of course. Of course. My goodness. But shouldn't she be in the hospital still?"
It looked like old George would have wanted to pour himself a lot bigger drink than he did. "Yes, she should. But she signed herself out and my men thought she'd better be watched over by someone whom she might listen to, and they brought her to me. And that's exactly all I'm going to discuss of that matter with you, Minister, if you don't mind." And the Minister knew this fair-haired elderly Scot, the leader of a smallish but efficient law-enforcement force, well enough to know, that his minding would have absolutely no effect whatsoever. So he swallowed his questions and turned to the issues he had come to see the Controller about.
After a while there was a knock on the study's door-frame and Anna peeked in. "Sorry to disturb you, Sir. I'd like to go and have some fresh air outside, if you don't mind?"
The Controller shook his head. "No, Anna. I won't let you go anywhere alone, not even for five minutes. You heard what the doctor said about your test results and blood-pressure. Wait for an hour or so, and I'll join you for a little walk." As if George wouldn't want to let the woman out his sight.
The minister saw disappointment flash on the woman's face. "Say, George, what if my man accompanies mrs Ashton? He's waiting outside and wouldn't mind stretching his limbs anyway..."
His suggestion was cut short. "What? You've got to be kidding!" the woman's eyes were... flaring. Yes. And she came closer. "I can't believe what I'm hearing, Sir! He would send his security to have a walk with a woman none of them knows and leave himself and you without protection? Are all the English politicians tired of their lives or what? That was the stupidest thing I've heard..." the Minister found himself pulling back against the back of his armchair.
Thank goodness the woman was interrupted. "Anna, Anna, now calm down. It's the Minister, my superior you're talking about."
The blonde snorted indignantly. "All the more reason to not be an idiot! How damn easy it would be to get rid of his man out there; and any gunman could simply walk to the door after a convenient time as you'd be waiting for me to come back! What an unbelievably..."
The Controller raised his hand. "Anna! Now that is enough." For some reason, the crimson red Minister got impression his so called subordinate was actually fully enjoying himself. "Anna dear, I'm certain that the Minister wouldn't even dream about making such a suggestion if he wasn't confident he'd be totally safe when I'm around, and also if he wasn't sure that I wouldn't harbour under my roof anyone I didn't totally trust." That seemed to calm the woman a bit.
"You may have a point there, Sir, and I'm sorry. Really sorry. Minister, I apologize for my hasty reaction."
The Home Secretary was granted a nod. So. He was only a minister while George Cowley was Sir. Good Lord what a... Boudicca. "Oh, it's all right, Mrs Ashton. And as George said, I wouldn't have suggested anything of the sort if I didn't have every faith in him." Home Secretary made a mental note to not suggest anything of the sort ever again, anywhere. To anyone. Under any circumstances.
He saw the woman sway and that caught the Controller's eye also. "Now Anna, you go to kitchen and take a sandwich or two, and there's milk for hot chocolate ready. Make a big mug of that for yourself and eat, and that's an order. I won't even discuss outdoors before that."
Mrs Ashton clearly wanted to say something to resist but finally only nodded. "Aye, Sir." She vanished and closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry, Minister. The young lady tends to be a wee bit... straightforward at times." Actually, he wasn't sorry. Not a bit. And Bodie and Doyle would have a field day when they heard about this, as against his principles he would tell them. But the inwardly smiling Controller kept his face in careful check. "You see, the incident with Smythe probably made her a little suspicious. And she's still not feeling well."
The Minister was not at all sure if he wanted to know how she was when she was well. "That's understandable, I guess. Anyway, now I know why you and your men hold her in such high esteem. No woman that I know, would have thought the way she did."
The Scot nodded. "Aye, she is quite a special lady."
The Minister finished his drink. "Well, good for you that she is. Say, are you sure she's not your daughter? I mean, there are certain characteristics... like temper..."
Ray Doyle emerged with a big box full of provisions right after the Minister had left. "You should get along with these for a couple of days at least. Couldn't help noticing, Sir, there wasn't any Christmas-stuff in the list Bodie gave me." The curly-haired agent's green eyes were questioning.
Anna lifted her head from her book in the living room. "Christmas?" Her gaze was a little embarrassed.
"Yes, Christmas. You know, the fat white-bearded American bloke who comes in a big red coat and Ho Ho Hos like a nutter." Ray was checking the receipt and counting the change.
Anna was biting her lip. "What day is it now?" Ray was puzzled and Anna noticed that. "I didn't much care to follow the calendar..."
Ray understood. Probably dates had lost their meaning during the weeks in the hospital-bed. "The 22nd, two days to Christmas Eve."
Anna put her head into her hands. "Oh for heaven's sake... and I'm here ruining your holidays. Sir, please, let me go to some hotel." She lifted her head with a pleading look.
"Out of the question. And you're not ruining anything. Besides, you're technically under house arrest."
Anna frowned. "Not the best of your jokes, Mr Cowley."
The older man coughed. "I'm afraid it's no joke, Anna. You are under house arrest until further notice. Based on the possible threat against your security. You are to be under surveillance of CI5 at all times."
Anna was pale as Death itself. "You... you can't do this to me, Sir."
Ray felt sorry for her. "It's been done already, Anna. And we do have the authority, don't doubt that... besides it wasn't the chief's idea but mine. I'm sorry, love." Ray had decided that suicidal tendencies were literally a threat against ones security, and the other two had readily agreed on that. Luckily no detailed arguments had been needed as Anna's name was known already linked to the Smythe-incident.
Big tears ran down her cheeks but she angrily wiped them away and went into her bedroom. Mr Cowley looked at his agent. "Well, Doyle... it may take a while before she forgives you."
Ray's gaze was level. "It's for the best that she heard it anyway. A lot better than if she had tried to sneak out and got arrested. I wouldn't hesitate a second to sound the alarm, Sir. Not after what Bodie told me today. "
His superior nodded. "Aye... none of us would. I just wish there was something to grasp her interest, give her something else to think about than her own situation."
Ray gave the chief a look. "Christmas, Sir? You might ask her to help with decorations or something. She's sulking alright but she would agree if you asked. At least to try and distract you, if not for any other reason. And who knows, maybe she would actually even find a little joy."
His chief hemmed. "Not a bad idea, Doyle. I'm not that much into celebrations usually, but we could have a dinner together or something like that. I was going to take her to the country-house anyway, to avoid those damned pop-ins, either today or tomorrow. Just a moment..." He went to the phone and called the couple who took care of the house. And to his pleasure he learned that they had just been warming up the house to see if everything worked properly, so he informed them that he would come later in the evening. His next call was to Stephen, who ordered them to stop at his clinic on their way, for a quick check-up, and reminded Mr Cowley that Anna was supposed to have last of her stitches removed the next day. Also they should see through Anna's luggage that had been brought in, and maybe shop a little in case she needed clothes or whatever it is that a woman would need for a stay of a few days. Ach, so there would be a little bit of distraction for her.
The Scot didn't need to say anything to Doyle who had already been listening intently. "Just give me the phone number there, and I'll tell Bodie you'll be off today. We'll inform Jack if he phones. I'm back to HQ for at least a few hours more. Bloody Hendley..." In few minutes the agent was gone and his chief was preparing to move the base.
Three hours later they had unpacked and were preparing dinner. Caretaker's wife had left them a still warm loaf of bread, and the scent was alluring. Anna looked totally exhausted, and had stayed mute almost all the time, so against his principles mr Cowley decided to take a short cut and take the soup tins he usually detested and only used if he was really busy. He asked Anna to take care of the soup and spice it any way she liked, while he would use the knife as Anna's right arm didn't yet work properly. Anna shrugged, and took a good long look in the fridge and a cupboard. They worked in relative silence, words were only used if one asked the other to pass on something from the cupboards.
The caretaker had made a fire to the big old fireplace, and out of a whim the Scot turned off almost all the lights once he had set the table. He noticed now that switching off the first light visibly startled Anna. Had she got a fear of darkness? Mr Cowley quickly lighted a couple of candles. He enjoyed the sight of living fire, and that also seemed to help Anna settle down.
They started their meal in silence. Then Anna heard her companion chuckle softly. "Ach, I came to think what the Home Secretary would say if he saw us now. Candle-light dinner... You see, he first suspected you were my mistress, and then he seemed to be convinced you were my daughter, and now he again wouldn't be able to decide."
Anna lifted an eyebrow. "And what made him think I could be your daughter? He must have heard from my speech that I'm an American."
The Controller chuckled again. "Well, lass, he mentioned something about temper..." Anna's cheeks took colour and she covered her eyes for a moment. That broke the ice for a while, and mr Cowley managed to coax Anna to eat all he had placed in front of her, also all the sweet pepper he had sliced on her bread. And the chicken-soup was delicious alright, richer and fuller after being expertly handled by his companion.
The Scot handed Anna a glass with a little sherry after he had cleared the table and Anna had sat by the fire. "Was allowed to give you a little night-cap."
They rested watching the flames, both so very tired.
"Sir... could you please sleep with me tonight?"
The glass almost fell from his fingers. "My god... what on earth do you mean?"
Anna was pale. "Only... only sleeping. I'm afraid of the..." she let her head down into her hands. "I'm sorry Mr Cowley, I'm sorry, please forget the whole thing. I understand... your position. I'm so sorry, Sir. I know you can't. Please forgive me..." and she fled, leaving the stunned Controller stare after her.
He sat there alone, hearing Anna go have her evening wash and retreat into her bedroom. He emptied his glass, but the sherry didn't clear his thoughts. He finally rose, and prepared for bed. But none of his evening routines eased his mind. Staring out of the window of his bedroom, his thoughts wandered. Into a painful night such a long long time ago... but he could still remember... It's so dark, Sir. So cold. I never make it out. Never. It's so dark. - Don't worry lad, I won't let the darkness have you. I promise. You'll make it out. You will.
Anna's eyes widened when he stepped into her bedroom in his pyjamas. And even more when he quietly settled down beside her. He stretched his arm and turned out the light. "No, Sir, please..."
He hushed her softly, feeling pain for this sudden fear.
"But it's so dark..."
Aye. He remembered the darkness. "Don't worry, lass." And those words, and the thin, shivering body next to his, took him again back those four decades. Back to the camp, back to the fear and fever and pain and hopelessness. But this time it was he who tenderly stroked hair and brow and chin, offering the little warmth and security and comfort he had to offer. And he told Anna a story he had never told a living soul; about the camp, the wound, the infection, about Stephen who had stubbornly fought against it with the petty means he had, the feverish fears, and him who night after night had kept the darkness at bay.
And his soft voice, and his warmth gradually made Anna's tension melt away. "Sir... did he survive?"
He gently touched her collar bone and she allowed him to slide his arm under her neck. "Aye, he did." Her head was now resting on his shoulder. "Would you like to meet him?"
There was a hesitant silence.
"Could I really?"
He ceased stroking her hair and gave her a gentle cuddle. God how thin and scrawny she was. How exhausted. "Aye. If you want to. And if you're a good wee lass and close your eyes and sleep now."
He heard a sigh. Then timid: "You won't leave me?" As if there was a child speaking.
"No lass, I won't leave you tonight." Och Bodie, what the hell have you done? The old man gave her cheek the last unhurried stroke. "Let go now, child..."
I wept,
lost in the realm
of your embrace.
And you found me.
How soft is
the song of your touch
in silence.
END OF CHAPTER 1