Author's note: We're on the down hill swing of this one, folks. Time to find everybody, at least mostly, patch 'em up, and get the heck back to Bayport. Of course it will take 5 chapters to do that, and Ranei just doesn't seem to be a smooth sailing sort of a place, but we're getting there. Thank You to Cherylann Rivers, EvergreenDreamweaver, ErinJordan, Paulina Ann, and everyone out there who is reading along!
CHAPTER 20
"Better?"
"Yes, thanks Keri." Fenton reached for the water glass before sinking into the rearranged mound of pillows.
"It's Kerstin, Mr. Hardy."
Fenton reddened slightly at the mistake. "I'm sorry. I'm distracted, I suppose."
"Not a problem. Is there anything else before I go?"
He surveyed the well appointed hotel room. Heavy sueded draperies had been adjusted to block the majority of the direct sunlight, the muted remainder filtering through slubbed silk sheers. The mahogany bedside table had been pulled somewhat forward, allowing Fenton access to the lamp and crystal water pitcher. A palate of warm browns and creams composed the bedding folded at the foot of the oversized mattress as well as covering the wingback chairs arranged in front of the window. Botanical patterned tapestries hung on the gold-brown plastered walls, as well as forming an overabundance of throw cushions. All in all, it was a room Laura would love – if she had been there.
A light blanket covered him to mid chest, torso propped on the three pillows now behind him, while two more elevated his leg. A lap desk held the notepads and pens he'd requested as well as a telephone. The only incongruent feature of the elegant room resided on the bedside table. Fenton grimaced at the baby monitor ensconced there, more annoyed at the implication than anything else.
Kerstin followed his eyes and smiled. "Remember to call me if you need to get up."
"I could use the telephone, you know."
"All calls in the hotel are routed through the switchboard and that might be too slow."
"Um-hmm. And you can't spy on me that way." Fenton smirked slightly, aware she'd hear it if he made any unauthorized forays.
"That too. I promised Mrs. Hardy you'd stay in bed. Otherwise it's back to the hospital."
Fenton nodded, capitulating with the gesture. "I'm fine for now. Could you move the clock over here, though, the angle's wrong to see it. My watch is," he hesitated slightly, remembering taking it off and handing it to Rao along with Frank's and Joe's, "is lost."
"Watching the clock won't get her here any sooner."
"That obvious, huh?" Fenton sighed, still relieved when she relocated the clock.
"Yes, but I think it's sweet. I'll be next door if you need me."
Great, now he'd been called sweet by a nurse less than half his age. Although since this particular private nurse had been gift delivered after he'd called his intelligence community contacts back home, he had every suspicion that her skill set included more than wound care and temperature taking.
As soon as she left, he started scribbling notes, deciding to make a basic list of everyone involved. It might help him find his sons, it might not, but it was a start. Sons. Fenton closed his eyes at the thought. Laura had cried a solid hour after he repeated his conversation with Clipboard, both of them reeling from the loss of their eldest.
Slowly the sobs had tapered and she had raised her eyes to his. The sorrow and emptiness he expected were there, he knew his own face mirrored that, but there was something else. An uncertainty he hadn't understood until she asked him if he saw it. The conversation replayed for the thousandth time.
"What?"
Trembling, she repeated the question. "Were you there when he murdered our son?"
"No." Fenton sighed and hugged her closer to him. "Clipboard, uh, spent time with both of us, but after the hotel, I never saw Frank again. Laura… you can't picture that in your head; it's not the memory Frank would want for you. It won't bring him back."
The abrupt shake of her head surprised him. "Why do you believe him?"
"Clipboard? Because… because…" he stopped cold. "You don't?"
"I can't. Not until I," she swallowed hard at the idea, "I see him."
Some remaining crumb of rationality in his brain labeled her belief that Frank was alive as the predictable denial of grief, but the hope once planted refused to wither. Maybe Laura was delusional. Maybe he was too. Either way, he had to find both of his sons, for all their sanity.
#
Skipping only his own name and Laura's, he restarted his list, hardest part first.
Frank Hardy – last seen departing Ranei Ocean Resort with rebel forces for interior military prison, reported deceased
Joe Hardy – last seen escaping Ranei Ocean Resort, reported threats against him by Nicolas Shuman, not carried out
Chet Morton – last seen leaving Ranei Ocean Resort with Joe
Biff Hooper – last seen leaving Ranei Ocean Resort with Joe
Connor Moore – requested Hardy family presence on Ranei under guise of building contract fraud, former NYC policeman, son-in-law of Kiran Mejki, Assistant Secretary of State for Ranei, aware of coup before it occurred, deceased, final words spoken to me 'he knew, he already knew,' killer unknown
'Clipboard' – given name unknown, rebel militia leader, behavior suggests prior experience as regular army officer, last seen in capitol city of Ranei, ordered and conducted part of my interrogation, transported me away from hotel in rebel retreat, stated he murdered Frank
Rao – rebel militia member, personal henchman to Clipboard, last seen Ranei Ocean Resort, reported by Clipboard to be at interior rebel camp after that, conducted part of my interrogation at the hotel, hit Laura
Cil – rebel militia member, part of Clipboard's personal circle, last seen Ranei Ocean Resort
Shorty – given name unknown, rebel militia member, part of Clipboard's personal circle, last seen Ranei Ocean Resort
Elias Dahl – Network agent, presented himself to Laura as US government agent without providing details, refused to allow Laura outside contact after her arrival in Jakarta, worked prior cases with myself, unknown if aware of his assistant's activities
Nicolas Shuman – assistant to Elias Dahl, American but affiliated with Ranei rebel faction, failed plan to possibly kidnap Laura from embassy, threatened Joe, last seen 5 days ago in US Indonesian embassy
Corporal Mike Keeler – US Army personnel, embassy guard staff, filed complaint against Laura for slapping him at her request, arrested Laura, last seen escorting her back to embassy detention yesterday
Kerstin Egolf – private duty nurse assigned to me, suspected Network agent
#
Fenton grunted at the excessive length of his scribbling. Don't need a list, need a bloody flow chart. The ticking of the clock he'd wanted closer was now starting to annoy him, measuring out another hour that had passed without any idea of where to look for his sons. At least it was an hour closer to holding Laura again. Years of working all over the world had brought the pair of them to a certain acceptance of physical separation, but after the last several days, even having her across the same room fell short of satisfactory.
The embassy officials that detained Laura had been willing to permit visits to her injured husband while he was in the hospital, but since his discharge this morning, that privilege had been revoked. Fenton certainly understood why she'd gotten arrested; heck, he applauded her for thinking of it, but now he wanted her out. The sentence was straight forward, a twenty five hundred dollar fine or a week in the embassy's version of a jail. He wired for the money as soon as he was informed she wouldn't be allowed to visit him any longer, but Laura was ever practical. She didn't see any reason to waste the money when only thirty-one hours of her week remained. He read the clock face again. Twenty-two hours now.
Only an hour until Elias Dahl was scheduled to arrive, though. Fenton didn't like the man, never had, and wasn't eager to meet with him at such a physical disadvantage. Unfortunately, he needed information and Dahl just might have it. Interpersonal skills aside, Fenton didn't think Dahl would condone his assistant's activities much less participate in them, but he still expected a tense meeting. He wasn't disappointed.
Elias plowed into the room two hours later, quick to yank a chair over to the side of the bed and rake his eyes over the paperwork littering the dozing Fenton's lap.
"Fenton, been a while. I let myself in, hope you don't mind." He tapped the yellow legal pad of notes. "I made the suspect list, I see."
Fenton sighed, wishing he'd been awake enough to stash the paperwork before Dahl arrived. Being this weak was flustering at best. "I wouldn't call it a suspect list; it's more of a gathering of thoughts." He flicked Elias's finger up to Frank's and Joe's names. This definitely wasn't a suspect list.
"Call it what you like, I'm simply glad to find you working the case, although being stuck in that bed is going to be a detriment. How long until you are up and about?" Something about his expression suggested more than casual curiosity, and they didn't like one another well enough to chalk it up to friendly concern. It didn't especially matter since he declined to wait for an answer. "I tried to explain to Laura that you would be interested in helping, but she didn't seem to concur. Bet you have your hands full with that one, hmm?"
He stiffened at the mention of his wife, but chose to ignore the comment. Elias Dahl being obnoxious was scarcely new. Fenton recalled his previous demeanor well; arrogant and condescending with underlings and civilians, falsely folksy with coworkers or superiors. "I'm not working a case. I'm looking for my children."
"Semantics! Anyhow, keeping Laura here worked well enough, I knew once you arrived you wouldn't be able to resist sinking your teeth into the whole mess."
"Once I find Frank and Joe, I'll be able to resist it very well, thanks."
"Ah, Fenton, I need you concentrating on this case. Sorting out the Ranei government and finding your boys is one and the same, anyhow." Dahl actually seemed perplexed.
"There's no 'case' to it, Elias. I understand that this government needs reassembled for the area to have any stability to it. I understand that ferreting out who was involved and might still be lurking in the democratic administration before the next elections roll around is an essential component of all that. What you don't understand is that all of that is the job of the intelligence community, not a private investigator from Bayport."
"I understand that perfectly well. And I also understand you haven't been a stick-to-insurance-fraud-and-divorce-photos gumshoe in a very long time, Hardy. And I doubt the skills of your youth simply evaporated."
"I opted out of your world for a reason. Let's leave it at that." Fenton's tone lost all of its well conditioned civility.
"Not this time. You're already in this up to your ears, why can't you just focus on this without an argument?" Elias leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he edged toward Fenton.
"In what world did you honestly think I would care about your case over my sons?"
"Look, I know they're the only two you've got, but…"
Fenton's interruption erupted at him. "Clearly you have a stunning awareness of parenthood, because the fact that they're my only two is so obviously the point here. If I had a dozen more at home I would be categorically thrilled to throw the pair of young men that I have raised, taught, tossed a ball to, lived through homework with, and poured my soul into to the wolves; but as it is, I'm hard up for heirs and forced to sacrifice the joy of working your bloody case to find them!"
Elias unconsciously shuffled backward, finally standing and retreating to stare out the window while the detective calmed down. Eventually the weight of the drilled glare between his shoulder blades lightened a notch and he returned to sit on the edge of the wingchair, far less settled than before.
"What about Nicolas Shuman?" Fenton watched his reaction, wondering if he'd concede the change in topic.
"I'm assuming your wife has given you her unusual opinion on the man?"
"If you're asking if she mentioned that he's involved with the Ranei rebellion and quite probably a double agent, then yes, she brought that up."
Dahl paused a long time, clicking his thumbnail against his teeth. "I'm not happy to admit it, but I don't know. At first I thought her accusation was ridiculous, I mean how seriously can you take someone who belts an army officer with the express goal of getting thrown into the klink, but he hasn't been seen since. I don't know."
"Laura's opinion of you isn't too flattering either, by the way."
"Ah, so my name on there does constitute a suspect list." A dry chuckle left his throat. "Fair enough, Fenton, keep making your notes and figuring this out. You don't want to label it working with me; that's fine. I know you. You find anything useful; you'll turn it over anyway. It's that over-refined do-the-right-thing duty you've always bought into."
"I can remember when you did too."
"No, I believed in getting the job done, whatever that entailed. I still do. " He tossed a stack of photos on the desk. "Here, some of these may be of use to you. Since I'm apparently not going to convince you that helping me is not incompatible with locating Joe, I'm going back to work. Call me when you get your head out of Ozzie and Harriet land and can see beyond your own little family concerns."
He walked to door before turning back to the bed. "Oh, you may want to avoid the hotel lobby. Lots of reporters down there, and they'd love to put a human interest face on this for everyone back home. Of course, they'd probably rather have the whole frightened mother angle anyway; you know how persistent the exploitative side of journalism can be. Hopefully we can keep the number of them roaming the embassy halls down to a dull roar."
Fenton clenched his teeth together and silently counted to five. "You've never had a problem controlling who wandered the halls before, and I know exactly what you're implying. I'll say it once. Stay away from Laura."
The night droned on far longer than it was welcome, Fenton pretending to sleep in between Kirsten's trips in to check on him. At least he wasn't attempting to fool anyone but himself with the closed eyes; it wasn't very convincing. He glowered at the photos for hours, unable to knock the sensation that something elusive was right in front of him. Most of the shots were aerial views of the capitol and some interior mountain rebel camps, taken both before the rebellion and after the coup/counter coup. The charred shell of their hotel caught his attention, but thus far none of pictures provided any information on Frank and Joe, and what might have happened to them. New photographs arrived by fax every few hours, perhaps the next batch would prove more productive.
A few phone calls from reporters requesting interviews did make it up to his room. Fenton considered unplugging the phone or having the desk screen his calls, but someone might have information he couldn't afford to miss.
A faxed note from Elias arrived with the sunrise photo bundle. The text was simple, without reference to their disagreement.
The government troops have completed their sweep of all rebel bases on the island that had permanent structures and estimate they have located ninety-five percent of tent encampments. A few westerners were found in the remaining buildings, none in the mobile camps. Those people or their remains have been moved to the capitol until their countries of origin can be determined. Several corpses were found, I'll relay the photos as I receive them. The Ranei government has issued a statement that all internationals have now been found in their opinion. I hope your sons are accounted for in there somewhere, Fenton. I expect to hear from you.
As the sun climbed higher, Fenton became more uneasy. If all westerners had been found and transported to the capitol, why hadn't he heard anything? With the alert Laura had managed to send out, Joe should have been easily identified once he arrived, no matter what condition he might have been in. The longer Fenton was apart from his wife, the harder it became to trust that Frank might still live. Laura's hope was palpable when she was near, but without her it was fading. Now the idea that no one had seen Joe amongst the living either was almost too much to bear. The stack of corpse photos rested on the edge of the table, untouched.
Another jingling of the telephone interrupted the morose mood.
"Hello?"
The hotel desk clerk answered his query. "There's a call for you, sir."
Perfect. I'm not up for another cub reporter looking to make his first international by line. "I'm sorry, but get rid of them. Can you take a message for me?"
"Yes sir. Although… the young man seemed certain you'd want to speak to him. It's a Biff Hooper."
The note of a few hours ago sliced though his mind. If all the non-citizens, surviving and deceased, had been rounded up, his sons would have contacted him immediately. And yet the call was coming from Biff.
Biff, not Joe. Not my son…. "Put him through."
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to be continued...