Author's Note: So, as I'm sure is obvious by now, part of this is rather medical in nature. Forgive me if I sometimes forget the stomach flip-flops that can give some folks. It's sort of my day job, although as in all fiction, the extraordinary parts make the page, the mundane "spent 12 hours charting" parts mostly don't. As I noted at the start, all of these procedures are possible, with a trained surgeon, and not, um, in a hut. Anyone who needs a non-medical plot summary to skim over instead, IM me.
Thanks so much for the reviews to Paulina Ann (who made me laugh out loud in one of the darkest chapters), Cherylann, Evergreen, Paulina, and ErinJordan. To everyone out there reading and enjoying, my sincere appreciation.
CHAPTER 18
"Hardy? Fenton Hardy?" The soldier weaved his way through the pallets and chairs littering the auditorium, searching for answering faces. "Hardy? I'm looking for a Fenton or Joseph Hardy." None of the men he saw looked young enough to match the description he'd been given for the American woman's son, but if the husband was here, he'd find him.
A government functionary of some kind stopped him at the end of the row.
"Any luck?"
"No, not so far. I haven't checked the stage area, though." The capitol city's elegant cultural center was the largest remaining unshelled building, and had been converted into a clearing house of sorts. Now half impromptu hospital and half military staging area, the granite and teak structure teamed with government troops, injured islanders, and a few straggling travelers. "All non-citizens were supposedly deported eight days ago, but according to the Major, this lady's darned insistent that her husband and son are still here."
"Why? And better yet, why's it your problem to find them? I'm sorry they're having a tough go of it, but that's sort of the norm this week as best I can tell. Everybody that doesn't belong on Ranei will end up here sooner or later and her family can contact her when they turn up. If they ever do."
The soldier let out a half-chuckle that had very little to do with humor. "Know where you're coming from on that one. Apparently Mrs. Hardy managed to pull some strings with her own government back home. Now some of the foreign aid our higher ups want comes with a string attached – find Mrs. Hardy an answer as to what happened to her husband and sons."
"And you got elected to baby-sit the pet project?" The bureaucrat grinned.
"That about sums it up, yeah. I better get back at it." He turned down another row of velvet cushioned theater seats.
"Guess so." The man returned to his own work, then called to the retreating soldier's back. "You might what to check the atrium section. A unit from the skirmish out at the capitol just came back in and reportedly has some internationals with them. Don't get your hopes up though; the medic that went up there took a handful of toe tags with him."
"Hey, I just promised to get the lady an answer. I didn't guarantee one she'd like."
#####
#####
"Perhaps you would care to modify your answer? I am quite certain that I did not hear you correctly."
The weary focus of his attention moaned, blood flowing freely from the gash dividing his cheek. "There's nothing to modify. Please. P-please…" His head dropped back to his chest, chin against a tattered dress shirt of a now unidentifiable color. A week's worth of dirt, blood and perspiration stiffened the fabric encasing its owner in a shell separate from the reality he'd lived until now. "Colonel, p-pleas-se…"
Firm fingers raised the bruised chin. "Please what? Your begging provides some entertainment, but I have no concept of what you desire." Clipboard prodded at the bound man kneeling at his feet before addressing the only other occupant of the tent. "Secretary Mejki, are you able to discern anything from this drivel?"
"No. Whatever my son-in-law may mean, it's beyond me." The elder Raneian grimaced, kicking his relative in the shin.
Clipboard shook his head, a few explosive words crossing his lips when that renewed the pounding headache he'd had since Fenton Hardy slammed a plank into his skull. Army Colonels did not allow handcuffed captives to knock them out with furniture tidbits, it was bad form. The fact that not one of his assorted underlings had been able to produce the man from the ravaged city had done little to improve his mood. With the militia now in full scale retreat into the mountains, it seemed the detective had slipped through his fingers.
"He is your family, Mejki, I leave him to you." Clipboard stared at the younger man. "I urge you in the strongest terms to explain Mr. Hardy's involvement in this to your father-in-law's satisfaction, Connor. If you cannot, you will come to wish he had killed you a week ago." With that the Colonel left.
Connor slumped further over his folded thighs at the reminder. He'd called Fenton in a last minute attempt to warn him, only to have the call interrupted by Mejki. While he'd always had a tense relationship with his father-in-law, he'd vastly underestimated the latent brutality of the man. In mid sentence Mejki had snatched the phone and handed it to a perplexed junior member of his own house staff, promptly slitting the boy's throat. Connor could only imagine it sounded as gruesome from Fenton's end of the telephone as it had in his foyer. Whether Fenton would have forgiven him for being lured to Ranei in the end became irrelevant in that moment; his friend surely assumed him dead.
"There is no involvement. Yes, I asked him to come here to review the records I'd gathered about the coup. Yes, he did that. But, Mej, please, I didn't know you were a part of it. I swear, I didn't. Fenton had no idea why I asked him to come here until after he arrived; he doesn't want any part of this. He's not important to you."
"You try to protect your friend when you would betray your family? You have a very odd definition of loyalty, Connor Moore. I knew as soon as I saw the name Fenton Hardy what you were up to. The Colonel may not have recognized it, but I have had the misfortune of spending a great deal of time in the United States. I find it unlikely in the extreme that he came here simply at the request of a man he hadn't seen in years rather than at the instruction of his own government. You simply made a plausible cover."
"No, I promise you that's not what happened. He came because I asked him; he wasn't here in any kind of official capacity. I played on his sense of obligation to help an old friend." Connor's voice rose an octave as his explanation finished, trying to ignore the boot grinding progressively into his spine.
"I don't think so, but for fun, perhaps I should accept your explanation. It makes little difference if it's true. Either I am correct and he is here on assignment from the American government and compelled to apprise that government as well as President Moluki of the all officials involved in this uprising, or," Mejki paused to sneer at the huddled form before him, "or it is all as you say, and someone with that developed a sense of obligation will report us anyway. Either way he must be found and that possibility eliminated. The Colonel was a fool not to shoot him and his sons in the hotel the first day."
"Why didn't he?" Connor surprised himself by voicing the question, but morbid curiosity seldom chooses an appropriate time to appear.
"Partially I think he wanted to see exactly what the man knew." A stomach turning smile twisted his face. "And partly I think our good Colonel likes a fresh crop of toys for Rao to pummel."
"That's disgusting."
"Oh, yes, quite. I see some of his protégé's have been entertaining themselves with you these past days." Mejki tipped Connor's face back and forth, surveying the blue and purple artwork. "I want to assure you I have no similar interest in these cat-and-mouse games. I prefer a much more direct approach to my loose ends."
Connor had time for his eyes to widen a fraction before he felt the nose of a pistol press in behind his ear.
"P-please don't…."
"Ah, so you've finally figured out what you're begging for. Excellent. I must say, though, while I have no interest in the Colonel's games, he's been a talented instructor and I can most effectively play them. I'm not going to kill you, Connor, not yet. Now get up."
#####
#####
"Hardy? Fenton Hardy? Joseph Hardy?" If he had to say those words again he'd scream. Not that he had anything against the misplaced American detective and his family, but there were so many places where he could be doing more good than here combing the halls in a human lost and found. The atrium had been a bust, and none of the noncombatant dead seemed to fit the descriptions either. Although from the information he'd gotten there was another boy he should be looking for among the corpses.
"Hardy? Did you ask for Hardy?" A slim officer with bloodied hands was climbing out of the back of a truck as it backed up to the main entrance.
"Yes." He scurried toward his compatriot, hoping the quest was over. "You know where they are sir?"
"They? Would you settle for a he? I have a Fenton Hardy in the truck."
"I'd settle for their Great Aunt Mildred at this point. Alive or dead?"
"Alive, needs a medic in short order though. What do you need him for, private?"
"See for yourself, sir." The soldier thrust the handful of papers he'd been clutching at the lieutenant in front of him.
The officer thumbed through the sheaf, slowly beginning to smile. "Tell you what, why don't you let me take this one from here?"
"Yes, sir, I'll let my CO know I found him and to see you for follow up. The other one, Joe, I've checked everywhere and he's just not here."
"Good enough. Mr. Hardy kept me from getting plugged in the back, so I've already gotten permission to stay with him until he's processed. He's on the air-evac list once the medic clears him."
"Thanks, sir."
The young officer noticed the gurneys had all been unloaded during his conversation and returned to his new friend's side.
"Fenton? You awake?" The detective had spoken less and less over the last few hours. Not that there was much surprise in that. The rags the soldier had tied over the bullet hole in his leg were drenched, blood loss rapidly becoming a life threatening concern. He nudged him gently in the shoulder. "Fenton?"
"Hmmm?" The answer wasn't articulate, but it was a start.
"Open your eyes for me, okay? The medic's on his way over."
Fenton seemed to ponder that briefly, eyes darting beneath too pale lids. One of his hands meandered to his face, clumsily swiping at the clammy skin before the lashes parted. "Okay."
Sure that Fenton was listening now, he continued. "The medic is going to make sure you're safe to get in a plane and then you're on your way to Jakarta. The hospital there's going to take good care of that leg."
"Can't." The words were thick and hard to understand. "My son's here. Maybe my wife. Can't leave…"
That actually got a laugh. "Don't know about the medics where you come from, friend, but the ones here are going to veto any search and rescues for you for a while. Besides," he tapped the papers in his hands, "your wife's got that one covered."
"Huh? Laura?" Fenton pulled his eyebrows together, too groggy to figure the statement out. "Laura's ok?"
"Your wife's fine, Fenton, and she'll be waiting for you in Jakarta. She managed to call home and send someone out to fetch you; apparently you are really late getting home."
"Laura…" The eyes drifted closed again, but a slight smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.
#####
#####
"Fenton?"
A moment later and the scene replayed, a finger moving along his shoulder as his name was spoken, encouraging him to open his eyes. The details wouldn't congeal for him, but the echo was a surprise. He felt certain the lieutenant would have let him sleep. "Ummm, I…. uhhh…"
The hand trailed up his shoulder to the crook of his neck, different from the nudge before. Softer. More familiar.
"Fenton?"
Definitely more familiar. If he could only open his eyes.
"Fenton?" Lips brushed the back of his hand as delicate fingers made it to his cheek.
He didn't need to see for that. "Laura."
As soon as he spoke the name her head settled on his chest, one finger continuing an ethereal stroke at his face. He wound one hand in her hair, the other coming to rest between her shoulder blades as he simply felt the weight of her there, reassuring him of her survival; somehow in that confirmation reassuring him of his own. He held perfectly still, absorbing the motion of her breathing against his, unconsciously matching the pattern.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, grudgingly allowing his world to expand beyond the woman enfolded in his arms. The dull white walls and overly worn sheets fading into an equally bland tile floor were unmistakable. Hospital.
"Laura? Where?" The weak rasp in his voice startled him.
"We're in Jakarta, love. You've been here three days."
"Three? But…"
She raised her head to look at him. "You had surgery on your leg the first day here and you've been playing sleeping beauty ever since." She blinked rapidly, failing miserably at stifling a few silent tears. "That's my job, you know…"
He mustered as much of a smile as he could, recognizing her teasing as a cover for worry. Cursing silently at the tremor in his arm, he brushed wayward strands of hair from her face. "Shhh, I'm fine. And I had to do your job; you did mine."
"What?" Laura sniffled a little, then kissed the fingertips as they crossed her cheek.
"Calling in the cavalry. Hear you sent the marines after me, pretty much literally."
"Yeah, well, I might have called a few of your friends - and my brother. They took it from there. God, Fenton you scared me."
"I know, love, I know. I'm sorry. I love you." He struggled to prop up on an elbow, biting back a wince as the room spun and he collapsed back to the mattress. Once the vertigo resolved he pulled her close again, planting little kisses at her temple.
"Ahem."
Fenton glanced at the doorway, noticing the dress uniformed military guard for the first time.
"Laura? Trouble with the militia didn't follow me here, did it?"
"Umm, he, ahh…" Laura cleared her throat, the stammer not at all typical of her speech. "The guard's not here for you, hon, he's here for me. I might have gotten a tiny bit arrested."
That got him sputtering. "A- Arrested?! For what?"
The smile she turned on him was enigmatic. "I wanted to use the phone. Anyway, we just have to pay a fine. First offense and all that."
"Phone?" Fenton couldn't piece that together at all, and he seriously doubted it was the pain meds. "But you said you called home. Why on earth didn't you have Gertrude or Sam wire you the money? You could have gotten out."
"I didn't want out. I'll tell you the whole story later."
"Now would be okay." He cast a glance at the water pitcher, Laura instantly pouring a cup and holding it for him.
"Later, Fenton. You're not as strong as you think yet. Do you even remember being awake yesterday?"
He managed a few swallows of the water, then reluctantly shook his head. "No."
Laura nodded resolutely, it hadn't seemed like he recalled anything. They stared long moments, each edging toward questions they didn't want to ask.
Fenton broke the silence first. "Do you know anything about Joe?"
Laura sighed, her lip starting a fine tremble. "The Ranei people, they're supposed to be looking for him and Frank, too, but I haven't heard a word. I…" She swallowed hard, noting his grim look and combining it will his omission of Frank's name. "Someone said… someone said Frank is… is…."
Fenton wrapped both of his hands around one of hers, staring in the depths of her sapphire eyes. "Laura, honey, I'm so sorry…" He trailed off, unable to find any meaningful words to offer his wife. "I'm so, so sorry. I'll find Joe, I promise you. I promise, Laura…"
Oh no. No. It's true...
#####
#####
to be continued...