64 Retribution

Chapter 6 Revised

It was not until they were in the air over the Channel that Garrison had the opportunity to rest back against the cold bulkhead and allow his mind to examine the older couple he had met for the first time. John and Clara Mason. Friends of Actor and they knew Terry. The story he had been fed that time about the air raid in London and overnight stay with the 'nice older couple' had a bit of truth to it anyway.

The con man never stopped amazing him. A strange and wide variety of friends he had. A man who had a questionable background in Italy and a retired British spy. What else was the man hiding? Terry? His sister must be having a very strong effect on the man. Actor had been out only for himself at the beginning. Now he was mellowing, to say the least. He worried about Terry. Actor had become friends of a sort with Craig and had not used it against him. Maybe Terry should be warned to cut back on the rehabilitation of the confidence man. It was Actor's cold, uncaring façade that got them through some of their toughest missions.

Garrison's eyes wandered casually around the inside of the plane at his men. They had all pretty much changed since arriving at the Mansion. Maybe not Goniff so much Craig thought with amusement. Casino had a soft side to him that showed through once in a while. And he seemed to be able to lead Chief and Goniff. Chief had loosened up too. He was no longer the taciturn young man with the knife. He was still a little too fond of the knife . . . and Garrison's youngest sister.

Garrison did not have time to dwell on it any further. The copilot stuck his head out from the cockpit and warned five minutes to the drop zone.

GGG

The jump has been uneventful, for once, and they were met and spirited away to a safe house in a small city on what used to be the French and German border. The safe house was another dusty attic. This time they were above a butcher shop so there was more than bread and cheese. Garrison just hoped when it was time to go to the party, they didn't smell like sausage.

This mission was going to be a little different. They were supposed to kidnap a German general. Nothing new, except this one wasn't all that willing. Actor taught Goniff how to dissolve one of his little knock-out pills in the general's glass of champagne. It worried the con man when he could not administer the drug himself. He had played waiters before, but he couldn't be a waiter and a German general at the same time and place. These missions were getting more impossible as they went along. To make this one worse, there were papers in a safe that had to be retrieved. That would be Casino's job. Chief would be driving again.

GGG

They had been at the party for an hour. Casino had just returned to the main room after he had gone to the office and removed the papers from the safe, along with a sizable amount of money. Perks of the trade. Now it hinged on two things; the general being removed from the party without drawing too much attention, and nobody suddenly deciding they needed those papers, or the money, anytime soon.

Garrison continued to watch Actor and General Metz. The Italian had an uncanny way of making people feel like they had known him forever. The two had apparently been trading anecdotes as both were smiling and acting jovial. The general's glass was almost empty. Actor nodded to Goniff, the waiter, to bring another glass of champagne. This was the critical part.

The blond waiter in the tuxedo, got another glass and went to a table of food to get a napkin. Stealthily, he dropped the half of a knock-out pill into the glass and watched it dissolve almost immediately. Balancing the tray on his fingertips, he made his way over to the two German generals, ducking around people who wanted to take the drink from him. With the proper attitude of a proper waiter, Goniff presented the tray to Metz. The man placed his now empty glass on the tray and took the fresh drink without acknowledging the waiter. Goniff quickly disappeared.

Actor did not outwardly show the worry that was in his mind. He did not like this one bit. Estimating half a pill would make the man feel tired and ill but not render him unconscious, the con man watched for the effects. He did not have to wait long.

Metz frowned and shook his head.

"Is something wrong?" asked Actor solicitously in German.

"I . . . am not feeling well," muttered the general.

"Perhaps stepping outside in the fresh air will help," offered the con man. "Come, I will accompany you. It may have been the oysters. I thought they had a bit of an off taste."

Metz set the glass on a table and followed Actor toward the hall. They passed Garrison on the way as the Lieutenant strolled over to the table, picked up the glass and followed the two generals. The tainted drink would now put a potted plant to sleep.

The general was beginning to flag as they reached the door. Actor now had an arm around the man's shoulders, keeping up a monologue as they moved outside. The cold air did nothing to improve the situation and the man's knees began to buckle. Garrison slipped up on the other side of Metz and put an arm around him. It would be unseemly for a lesser officer, Garrison being dressed as a major, to be touching his superior in such a comradely fashion. Luckily, nobody was around.

Casino had left the party as soon as Metz had taken his first sip of the drugged drink. He held the back door of their car open for Garrison to scoot in and help pull the now unconscious man in as Actor shoved him over. The Italian climbed in and exchanged a concerned look with the Lieutenant. The safecracker hopped into the front seat beside Goniff and Chief and the car took off at a leisurely pace toward the exit from the car park.

They were stopped at the gate by a guard as expected. Chief rolled down his window. As the guard peered inside, loud drunken laughter erupted from the back.

"And what did she do next, Herr General?" asked Actor with a voice full of mirth.

Chief looked at the guard and rolled his eyes. Twin roars of laughter burst from the two men on either side of the general.

"Does she have a sister?" asked Actor.

The guard stepped back and motioned Chief to continue through the gate. The Indian rolled up his window as he drove on. There were some tense moments as they watched for pursuit. Satisfied they were not being followed, Chief still meandered down side roads and zig zagged to get back to the safehouse.

"I thought you said this would just make him drowsy?" demanded Garrison in frustration.

"Lieutenant," said Actor indignantly, "when I use the pills it is to render a person unconscious. I have never had occasion to give a half dose before. Apparently, it was still too much for him."

Garrison placed a hand on the German's chest and was apprehensive to have find the man's breathing become gasping with each breath. Actor lifted an eyelid and tried to peer at the pupil in the very dim light.

"Actor, he's not breathing."

The con man bent around and placed his ear on the man's chest, listening to the rapid, then irregular heartbeat, that ceased altogether. He continued listening, but there were no respirations and no heartbeat. Garrison felt for a pulse in the man's throat. There was none. The two men in the backseat exchanged looks.

"Wonderful," said Garrison in frustration.

"Now what?" asked Actor.

"Chief find someplace to dump the body where it won't be found for a long time."

Chief nodded.

Casino and Goniff turned to look over the seat.

"Terrific," said Casino sarcastically. "What's the Brass gonna say when yuh tell them yuh accidently offed the general they wanted?"

"I don't know," said Garrison. He would have to cross that bridge, hopefully before it collapsed around them. No miracle was going to make the German wake up.

GGGGG

Terry's mind surfaced slowly. She listened before attempting to open her eyes. The sound of metal wheels rolling, muffled by distance. Hurried voices, female and male, with indistinct words. That familiar antiseptic smell. It was a hospital. What was she doing in a hospital? The rustle of a paper next to her. She wasn't alone.

Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The light from the window, though shaded, sent pain stabbing to the back of her head. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She must have made a noise because the rustle of pages sounded like a newspaper closing.

"It's about time you came back," said a cheerful, quiet male voice with a British accent.

Terry opened one eye and looked at the gray-haired, smiling man sitting on a chair beside her bed. She knew him, but couldn't think how, from where or who. She didn't say anything. Cautiously, Terry opened her other eye. This time they adjusted to the light and the pain receded to a dull ache. She glanced around.

"Where . . .?" she asked.

"American Army Air Corps hospital," answered the man. "In London."

That didn't make any sense to her. She shifted her eyes back to the man. "Who . . .?"

"I am John Mason," he replied gently. "You know myself and my wife, Clara. We tend to Vittorio's house."

Vittorio. Actor. Actor? She didn't know any actors.

John watched her, knowing the signs and seeing them in the girl's changing expressions. "You don't remember Vittorio, do you?"

She slowly shook her head.

"Do you remember Actor?"

Terry frowned. "It seems familiar. I can't put a face to it." She looked at him. "I'm sorry. I don't know you either."

"To be expected," said John. "You have a bad concussion." He changed tactics. "Your name is Teresa . . ." he hinted quickly.

"Garrison." She frowned. "Not Teresa. Terry . . . Terry Garrison."

The door opened and a stout, white haired woman walked in, carrying a cup of coffee. The woman looked at the girl in the bed and her face broke into a big, motherly smile.

"You're awake. Oh, Vittorio will be so relieved. How are you feeling, Teresa?"

"Easy Clara," cautioned her husband. "She's having a bit of a memory problem. She doesn't remember us . . . and she doesn't remember Vittorio."

Clara stared at the girl. "How can you not remember Vittorio? You two are . . ."

"Clara," interrupted John warningly. "Let her rest. And it would probably be best if we call him Actor. That is how she knows him from their work."

"Oh dear," said the older woman, handing the cup of tea to her husband.

John took a sip of the clear, hot liquid, eyes watching the young lady in the bed. She still frowned and her eyelids, a lovely blend of purple and green hues, drooped until they closed, and her breathing evened out. John sighed. It was a start. He set the cup on the night table and rose. His wife was seated in the other chair, watching the girl. Clara was also frowning. She turned her head and exchanged a look with her husband.

"I expect I should notify the doctor she has regained consciousness, even if it was brief," said John.

He pushed the chair back and went out in the hall, in search of the nurses station. Approaching the desk, he waited for one of the nurses to look up. A girl, even younger than Teresa, smiled at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a quiet voice.

John smiled back, "My wife and I are sitting with Miss Garrison. She woke up for a few minutes and went back to sleep. I thought we should inform the doctor."

The quiet smile widened. "That's a good sign. I'll ring Major Jeffreys. He is the one on call today."

John nodded. "We will continue to wait in her room. Thank you."

The nurse nodded, reaching for the telephone. John went back and resumed the vigil with his wife.

It wasn't long before a middle age blond stocky man entered the room. John stood and shook the firm hand that was held out to him. The Major nodded to Clara and stepped around to study the girl in the bed.

"You say she awakened?" prompted the doctor.

"Yes. It wasn't long. The light seemed to bother her eyes and her memory is poor," said John. "She recognized her first name and remembered her last name but had no idea where she is or who we are."

"To be expected," the doctor confirmed what John had told Teresa. "She will hopefully begin awakening for longer periods of time. Time will tell with her memory."

Major Jeffreys counted the pulse in Terry's wrist and watched for any sign of response to touch. There was none. He nodded. Consciousness would come on its own terms. He didn't know Terry. With another nod to the couple, he left, taking the chart at the end of the bed with him.

The uninterrupted vigil of the Masons did not last long. A tap on the door and a British major with Commando on his shoulders entered the room. Major Richards had never met John Mason, but a quick security check had assured him the man, though no longer in the service, had security clearance; enough to be allowed to sit in on the conversation Richards hoped to have with the Garrison woman.

John stood, automatically straightening to attention, but forgoing the salute. Richards held a hand out.

"Major Richards," he introduced himself as the two men shook hands. "Allied Command."

"John Mason, late of British Intelligence," replied the older man. "My wife, Clara,"

Major Richards nodded to the woman. "A pleasure, Mrs. Mason." He gave a tight smile. "I'm sorry, but I must ask you to step out for a brief time. Your husband has been given clearance, but you have not. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Clara shot her husband a look that told him there was going to be more discussion later. She silently got up and left; Richards closing the door behind her. The Major went over to her seat and motioned John to sit back down. He took a moment to watch Terry's face and take in the visible injuries. Now he looked at John speculatively.

"You were cleared by Allied Command to work with us on a temporary basis until Miss Garrison is back on her feet." His eyes narrowed. "How much do you know about the group Terry is with?"

"Not very much," said John. "I have met her brother, Lt. Garrison. My friend, known as Actor, appears to work with him. I know there are other people involved. I am not aware what their duties are. However, they are American."

Richards nodded. "Yes, but their group is a joint operation between American and British intelligence." He dipped his head toward the girl in the bed. "Miss Garrison works with her brother's group and another group. Special Forces."

John knew a bit about that from the first time he had met Teresa and the second time when she had come to Vittorio/Actor's house alone. He did not mention any of that.

"You will understand I must wake her up. And anything you hear from either us is not to be repeated."

John gave a single nod. "I understand, Major."

Richards stood and leaned over the railing. "Terry? Wake up." He shook the girl's shoulder. "Come on, Terry. You have to wake up."

To John's surprise, the girl's eyelids fluttered and opened. She looked straight up into the officer's face. The expression was wary.

"Terry, stay awake now. I need to speak with you. Do you recognize me?"

Again, the face was familiar, but no name came to mind. She frowned at him.

"I am Major Richards. I'm sorry. We can't afford to allow you recover at your own pace. We need you back as soon as possible." His countenance was firm and unsmiling.

"Do I know you?" Terry asked, to gain time. She knew she did, but not how.

"Yes. You work for me. I am what is known as your handler."

"Do I like you?" asked the girl.

That question surprised Richards. "Sometimes," he replied. He was fully aware of the hand that inched toward Mason. The older man took it in his and simply held it. The Major continued. "I would like you to remember on your own, but I'm afraid we will have to help it along."

The girl turned her colorful racoon eyes to the officer. "I am Terry Garrison. I'm American. You're British. I work for you? Just who am I? What am I?"

Richards sat down on the chair again. The girl turned her head to watch him warily.

"You are an independent contractor for Allied Command. Your brother is Lt. Craig Garrison. He leads a group of convicts released from prison to work undercover behind enemy lines. You also work with another, similar group doing the same thing."

"Which is?"

"You work closely with an Italian confidence man known as "Actor". You two work together as a team, pulling cons against German officers. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"No," said Terry. "So, where do you fit into the crazy picture?"

"I am your handler, he repeated. "You answer to me for some of the missions you go on alone. You are our liaison with various resistance groups in Europe."

Terry's eyebrows rose the tiniest bit. "Am I in a regular hospital or a looney bin? What you're telling me is nuts."

John could have agreed with that, if he hadn't worked for these people after the last war.

"Just listen to me, Terry," said Major Richards. "I'm going to fill you in on your background."

The Commando officer proceeded to tell her what she was involved in. Every time her eyes tried to close, he shook her arm and said her name sharply. Finally, she raised a hand to stop him. This was like being interrogated. How did she know that?

"Enough. Answer me something. What happened to me?"

"We don't know," replied Richards. "Your base was broken into and you were found unconscious. It looks like robbery, but given the nature of your line of work, that is questionable."

Terry nodded. "Okay, now leave me alone."

The girl was stubborn, and Richards knew this session was over. He rose and squeezed her arm. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Somehow, I knew that," said the girl. "Kevin, sometimes you can be a royal pain in the rear."

Both men looked sharply at her. Neither had mentioned his first name and he had removed his name tag before entering the room.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

She grimaced. "Just flashes."

"Well, you rest, and we can resume tomorrow."

Terry closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

The two men exchanged looks.

Major Richards looked at the closed expression on the older man's face. "If she wakes up again, answer what questions she has that you know the answers to."

"Of course, Sir," replied John.

He watched Richards leave. The girl was right. This was insanity.

GGGGG

Garrison and his men gathered their jackets and duffle bags in preparation of being taken to the pickup point. Craig would be happy when they were back in England. This mission was crazy and unbeknownst to him was about to get worse. The door opened and their host slipped inside.

"There has been a change in plans," said Marcel edgily. "The plane was shot down over the coast. They will tell us when and how you will be recovered tomorrow when the radio window is open. For now, you will remain up here."

Garrison did not like that plan. "Too risky," he said. "We try not to stay in one place too long. Do you have another safe house we can use?"

Marcel thought about it. "There is a farm house about eight kilometers from here. We can move you there tonight." The truth was he would feel safer without these men under his roof. "I will contact someone to check it out. If it is clear, we will move you." He slid back out the door.

"This is just getting better and better," grumbled Casino.

Garrison had to agree. By now the General would be reported as missing, along with probably a fairly good description of he and Actor and maybe the others. No, this mission was just getting worse. They needed to get out of here, for their safety and the safety of the butcher.

The Lieutenant and his men were syphoned out the back door of the shop and into a van in the alley. It was dark in the back of the van and smelled like pig. The ride was long and meandering. Unable to see out, they all waited for an unexpected stop that meant trouble. Finally, the vehicle turned, and they drove slowly up a rough road or drive. All of them were happy when the back door was opened, and they were safely at a farmhouse. Now all they could do was wait until they got word from England.

8