AN: Thanks, Belker, for pointing out something I didn't know… I tried to use the name of the author who invented Aslan, and the site wouldn't allow me. I had checked that he wasn't on the list of writers who don't wish to be used on the site, but I had no idea that I couldn't actually mention an author by name.
I simply wanted to give a pretentious toad a noble name, to show that his parents had been as pretentious as him. Absolutely no offence was intended to fans of the author or his works.
I know very little about Native American culture, but I've researched the little bit of information I've used. Nevertheless, I couldn't presume to know enough to write about a particular nation, so the Howakhan people are a creation.
Finally, Arthur Hastings is a nasty bit of work, a racist and a bigot. The opinions he spews, as Tony put it, are his, NOT MINE.
The Rainbow Lake
Chapter 3
Three men sat on a back porch, in the late afternoon sunshine. One, using a phone, was silent, or cussing as often as he spoke, while the others drank beer from the bottle and listened idly, as the speaker became more irate. After a while the handset was slammed back into its cradle so hard the listeners expected to see it shatter.
"Damn it! That idiot hasn't got the balls or the sense to do a job right!" The speaker was a stocky individual in middle age, wearing a grey shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. It was his back porch.
"No painting, then," a second man said, unsurprised. "Maybe he's already given it to Tam."
"Fool didn't even get over the doorstep to find out. Some feds or other were there."
"Feds!" The second man, younger, thin and mean faced, dived out of his chair, grabbed another beer from the fridge and slammed the door shut. "Trev, how the hell did –"
"You know damn fine well how – and if you'd slow down on drinkin' my beer, you'd remember. You killed a marine this morning. Not just some daisy painter. You think you can just do that?"
The third man spoke lazily. "Y'all couldn't get a simple thing right between you. Send a hothead to do a job that needed finesse…" The younger man leapt up again, and stood over the speaker threateningly, but the seated man didn't bat an eyelid. "Sit down, Gary. Y'are a hothead, and I'm not afraid of you." He looked back at the other man, Trevor Buckley. "And send a poof to do a man's job… Did you seriously think he'd achieve anything?" He took another pull of his beer. "We need the painting even more now you killed the artist…"
He heaved himself out of his chair with difficulty, a large, bulky man with hands like bunches of rather dangerous bananas, and stared out over the pleasant, green landscape, to the lavender haze of the sea in the distance.
"All young Black had was a ethnic minority dream, and the promise of a painting by a mixed race artist who was going to be famous - " his voice snarled with contempt – "Now, it's going to be a painting by a famous artist… his talent tragically extinguished…his last painting… well, congratulations on getting us the exact opposite of what we wanted."
He turned back, hands on hips. "So… any bright ideas on what to do now? We need that land. How long's it gonna take? I gotta business to run back in Ar-Kan-Saw. I don't need to be here running round after some half-bit injun!"
Buckley winced in spite of himself. "Tell me, Arthur… just what's a red-neck good ol' boy like you doing living in Little Rock anyways?"
NCISNCISNCISNCIS
Sunny stood in the middle of the room and did a slow spin, biting down on her lower lip. The afternoon sun hurt her eyes as it reflected off the now empty walls. She pushed her hands through her hair as she slowly turned, the feel of her finger tips on her scalp was like sandpaper, and there was a roaring in her ears as she muttered "No…"
Tony stood up fast, and seized her shoulders. "Sunny, don't. Come on, look at me. Take deep breaths…" He scooped her up and carried her to the tiny living space, where there was a small sofa. He'd have struggled to share it with anyone, but the pint sized girl just about fitted. He let her get her breath back, and Tim brought her some water.
When she muttered a shaky "Thanks," they helped her to sit up again, and waited.
"Tam wouldn't have wanted it this way," she said sadly, almost to herself, and took a deep breath. No-one interrupted her pointlessly by asking who Tam was. "He's Jamie's best friend. Private Tam Black. The picture was for him…"
It was a good place to stop to eat. The unit had patrolled the hilly area since oh- four hundred hours that morning; the Presidential helicopter was due to land at an unspecified time at the small airfield on the level ground below. Nobody in the area knew, but no chances were being taken. At thirteen hundred hours the aircraft took off again, and as it faded to a tiny black lightbulb shaped dot in the sky, the Corporal called a rest.
"Fantastic view,"Jamie said with an artist's appreciation, digging out his sketchbook before his rations, as usual. "Hey, wake up, man… it's more important to eat than sleep right now." He did so, with an energy bar in one hand and a pencil in the other.
Tam sat up again reluctantly, with a yawn. "Didn't sleep well," he mumbled. As he took a first bite of his food, he agreed with his friend. "It is a great view. Reminds me of home."
"You have hills like this?"
"Oh, yeah. It's Virginia, for heavens sakes. You should come and see. But you always spend your leave with Sunny. Not that I blame you, of course." He yawned mightily again.
"I thought you were well away last night," Jamie said. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
"I did," Tam said quietly. "But I had a helluva dream. Often do."
"What about?"
Tam looked for a minute as if he were going to tell, but then shook his head.
Jamie gave him a look of mock outrage. "Come on, man… you can't tell me that much and then not the rest… you were going to. What stopped you?"
"Awright," Tam said heavily, "but you'll be hiding the knives in a minute. D'you know what my name actually is?"
"What? Your name? I just thought it was Tam. Or… OK, maybe it's Scottish? Short for Thomas?"
"It's Naantam. Howakhan word…" Now he really looked embarrassed. Jamie went on sketching the scene calmly so his friend didn't have to look at him. "Means wolf. My Mom had romantic ideas."
Jamie frowned and thought. "Howakhan," he said. "Chief of one of the Algonquinian nations. One who welcomed the settlers, is people weren't particularly well rewarded for their kindness. The tribe's been known by his name since… what? 1700s? Why do I have to hide the knives?"
Sunny smiled slightly. "Tam had always been wary of letting on that he was a full blooded Native American, from a tribe that had rather a romanticised history. Jamie laughed, and said that his dad was from Trinidad, and his Mom was from Tiger Bay, Cardiff. Her surname had been Moretti, as her Mum had married an Italian prisoner of war who liked Wales, and never bothered to go home. He said he defied anybody to have an odder background, and so what? Tam said he sometimes got teased about the 'wolf' thing, and Jamie said friends don't tease."
They were all completely quiet; Ziva and Tony sitting on the floor, Tim perched on a footstool, Gibbs and Balboa leaning against the wall. Rocky's team had taken the truck, with an escort of LEOs, back to the Navy Yard.
Sunny looked at them all, grateful that they were letting her take her time. Nobody urged her, "But what about the Rainbow Lake?"
"And the dream?" Jamie queried.
"My mother said a Howakhan should listen to his dreams, and this one, well, I keep having it, one way or another. I'm walking, or standing by a lake. Still blue water, mirroring the sky. Sometimes it's blue, sometimes the day's cloudy, so the water's silver. Once it was sunset, so the water was red and gold. The colours always seem brighter than in real life. You'd love them, with your artistic eyes…"
"Yeah," Jamie said, "I would. Go on…"
"I just like the look of the water, I don't feel any desire to dive in. And my own voice is going on at me, 'it has to change', not over and over, but every so often I hear it, and I don't take any notice. And no matter how beautiful it looks, I don't do anything. Until last night, that is. I looked down at the water, and saw my reflection, and I was in ceremonial tribal dress, which I've never worn in my life… and I didn't hesitate for a moment; I just dived in. Then the lake changed… it wasn't blue, or silver, or red… I can't describe it… it was every colour, moving…like oil on water… or swimming in a rainbow."
Tam looked sideways at his friend, who'd stopped sketching, and was looking at him. There wasn't a trace of ridicule on his face. "So what changed in your life then?"
Tam blinked. "Oh, you're sharp, buddy." He paused, reaching for the words. "I think I've been hiding my heritage," he said carefully, "for fear of ridicule. Don't say that's foolish-"
"I didn't."
"Well, I finally did. I'm a Marine, right? If I'm not scared of swimming through a fifteen foot submerged pipe with my pack on my back, why should I be scared of a bit of laughter?"
"Jamie thought Tam had probably been teased as a child, but he didn't say anything. But when they came back to DC, the moment he was back here he started on that painting. When he'd finished, he got Tam over here to show him. It's the only time I've ever seen a Marine cry. It's the most amazing picture… it's as if it's seen through a mist, in a dream… the colours are clouded over in some parts, and really bright in some areas, but although there are so many, they're not garish. I can't explain. There's a shadowy figure in the water, you can hardly see it… it's like a baptism… or a birth… Wait a minute…" she finished, remembering something.
She got up and went to the computer desk, and pulled a drawer open. After sorting through a pile of A4 glossy photographs, she held one out. "The Rainbow Lake", she said softly. Gibbs was nearest, and he took it, holding it at arm's length. He looked for a while, nodded thoughtfully, and passed it on to Balboa. The others waited impatiently until it was handed on to them. Ziva held it and Tim and Tony looked over her shoulder. Nobody said anything; everybody felt the magnetism of the painting, even though they were only looking at a photograph. Sometimes there just weren't words.
Sunny was crying softly again, and this time it was Tim who was closest, and who threw a comforting arm round her. "Tam asked how much it would cost to buy it. He said if it took him his whole career to raise the money he would. Jamie laughed. He said, 'You daft twit. It's yours. Look on the back.' There's another photo in that pile."
Ziva looked, and found the right one. "'For Naantam, who isn't afraid of laughter'," she read. "'The Rainbow Lake, a warrior's dream, from your friend Jamie.' He has made it plain that it is his gift to his best friend."
"There's one more thing you should know," Sunny said. "Remember Tam mentioned the hills near his home?"
"It needs to dry thoroughly before I'll let it out of my sight," Jamie said. "But I'll let you know the moment you can have it."
"In the mean time, can I come back here and just look at it sometimes?" Jamie and Sunita laughed, but then Tam's serious face silenced them.
"Not afraid of laughter," he said thoughtfully." Not afraid of change any more either. I have some land..." They waited, curious, for him to go on. "My grandfather left it to me. On the side of a hill… overlooking the bay… On three levels… you couldn't build a house there without blasting a chunk out of the hill – which is what developers 'd do, given the chance."
He chuckled. "You could build a heritage centre there, though… right in the heart of old Howakhan country… I was going to say an unromanticised heritage – but what's more romantic than this?" He gestured at the picture. "The elders have been wanting to do it for a long time… I'll give them the land… and this picture can have pride of place. My Mom used to say listen to your dreams…"
"Tam brought two Elders to look at the painting. They were surprised that the artist wasn't a Native American. They felt he understood them. The centre will be built… how am I going to tell Tam that his painting's gone?" Sunny came to the end of her narrative and sank against Tim's shoulder exhaustedly, burying her face in his shoulder.
After a while, Balboa said quietly, "So… we have the background on the painting, and its disappearance right now is too much of a coincidence not to be linked to the murder, but how much nearer does it bring us to knowing who killed Private Hope?"
"Couldn't tell ya, Rocky."
Balboa decided to head back, as he and his team had been 'borrowed' for the day. When he'd gone, with their thanks following him out of the door, Tim said "Er… Sunny's dropped off to sleep, Boss."
Nobody was surprised; they were glad she was getting a bit of respite from her grief. Tim eased her down onto the sofa, and Tony fetched a blanket. As she slept, they had a good look round the apartment, although strictly speaking, it wasn't a crime scene, since nobody knew how or when the painting had gone from there. Nothing seemed unusual. They stood in the kitchen alcove and made coffee, since no-one had time to eat or drink; and talked things over in low voices.
"Agent Balboa is right," Ziva mused; "It is too much of a coincidence… but the apartment is like a fortress… we would know if someone had broken in to steal it. So someone who was here legitimately is most likely. I will go and ask the landlord if he has noticed Jamie having any visitors."
"We need to find Tam Black, too," Tim said. "The unit's on two days stand-down, so he could have gone back to his folks in Virginia. We need to talk to him."
"From what we've heard he's unlikely to be the killer," Gibbs continued the thread, "But if he's not a suspect, he could be a potential victim…"
"Especially if the land hasn't been signed over yet?" Tony asked, and the Boss nodded.
"If his land, or his picture's linked to why Jamie Hope was killed, we need him where we can protect him."
"He's not the only one who needs protecting," Tony said, looking across at the bedraggled young woman sleeping on the sofa. "But I've already taken care of that. I know where to take her where she'll be safe."
Gibbs nodded. "You've talked to Polly."
"Patch, actually; they worked together briefly, until he left ESCD and went to Bethesda. He said bring her over."
"Good thinking. Take McGee. Ziva and I'll go back and start looking for Black." He began to head for the door. "Oh, and DiNozzo…"
"Boss?"
"One cuddle of Lucy. Just one. Short, then ya get back to the Yard. Right?"
Tony just grinned.
TBC