Book 2 Chapter 18

WSB Headquarters, NYC

Black gloved fingers clamped down hard on a head of sweat drenched salt and pepper hair. Question after question bounced off a facade of glazed eyes and a slack jaw. A shiver ran through a body securely tied to a hard chair.

The interrogator hesitated to ask his next question as a red light became visible in his peripheral vision. He let go of Martin Ross' head and walked out the door of the interrogation room. He entered a smaller room where interim WSB head Connie Townley and Dr. Lionel Beam waited.

Removing his gloves, Frisco blurted out, "No good. He's conditioned too well."

"The double dose of sodium pentothal I gave him should have loosened his tongue," said Lionel.

"It would have but I think something else is running him," said Frisco. "Forcing him to shut down."

"Faison," said Connie.

"Yeah, the one and only." Frisco turned to Lionel. "When are the hypno guys starting?"

"They already have," said Lionel. "The minute he was picked up when he arrived here this morning we confirmed his conditioning and tried to, ah, deactivate him."

"And?"

"He fought, subsided then turned mute as you see him now. I thought you'd have a better chance, Frisco."

Connie shook his head. "I thought we had trained staff for this sort of thing. You assured me that-"

"We studied and trained to tackle hypnotic subjects. We've had good results, Connie, but-"

"But?"

"We don't know Faison's procedures. None of the files were very illuminating about the EXACT methodology he's known to use in the past. We can't break something when we know nothing about it."

"I've got his furious wife threatening to go to the press. The entire office is simmering with uncertainty and anxiety. And, I have to explain my … pre-emptive action to the executive board. Ross HAS to be broken. We have to know what he knows, what he's done!" She looked hard at Lionel. "Use the serum."

"We've never used it on someone with this level of conditioning, Connie. It could kill him."

Connie's eyes were steely. "I'm authorizing you to use it unless you have something else more effective."

"But-"

"The integrity and the health of this organization is at stake, Lionel. We use the serum. Go get it."

Lionel picked up the handset of the phone lying on the table. As he talked to a subordinate, Connie gave Frisco more orders.

"We need watchers in the office, Frisco. Spread the word among the old guard to keep their eyes and ears open."

"You think there's more than one mole?"

"I have to assume the worst. If there is another mole, this is the time to cover his or her tracks."

"Got it." Frisco turned to leave. "What serum is Lionel using?"

"It's a variant of the Cartel's old recipe for carbon disulfide."

"Gods! That stuff gets around."

"It's very effective."

"Listen, Connie, I know someone who deprogrammed Faison's subjects and-"

"Doctor Tom Hardy."

"Yeah. Hold off on the serum. I'm sure I can get Tom to come down here."

"Too late. We're on all out damage control here," said Connie. "Besides, he's a civilian."

"Who's on our side."

"No outsiders. Maybe later."

"Ross could be dead."

"I'm not feeling too charitable right now, Frisco. Get downstairs and do your job."

"If he cracks, I want in on the interrogation. I have a ton of questions about Venezuela," said Frisco. "I need to know if he set me up to take the fall and exact revenge on Robert and Anna."

"I think we know the answer to that one already."

Scorpio Ranch, Australia

Holly descended down the stairs expecting to hear the hustle and bustle of a busy afternoon but hearing none of that. She found Anna in the kitchen reading a paper.

"I overslept," said Holly.

"Everyone did believe me," replied Anna. "Lunch is buffet style. Juice, tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please," said Holly. "Where is everyone?"

"Robert's arranging your flight. Robin finally went to sleep two hours ago. Andrew should be getting up soon," replied Anna.

Holly looked about the room, hesitated then said, "Robert's not within earshot is he?"

Anna shook her head. She rose to get Holly some tea from the kettle.

"Good. Now tell me what happened. You know his explosion of … of rage when we were in Vladivostok."

"I thought you'd pick up on that."

"I've seen him in towering rages but nothing like that. That was violent. Terrifyingly so."

"I'm sorry anyone else had to see it."

"I thought there was something not right in Budapest as if he was a spring wound too tight. I chalked it down to the stress of the mission in Vienna but it's more than that, isn't it?" hazarded Holly. "Is he ill? Is it serious?"

"Yes, he's ill but he's … it's not life-threatening," began Anna. She placed a cup of tea in front of Holly before sitting down opposite her at the table. "How much did he tell you about the time he was missing?"

"Nothing detailed. You know how shifty he can be about things personal," said Holly. "He said you'd fill in the blanks. What happened to him, Anna?"

"Let me give you some context first. You see when you're in the field as an agent, you're taught to be a different person. This is for the mission's sake but it's a sort of buffer for the agent. Things that happen on the mission happen to someone else not the agent. That's the way we're taught to think and feel. Over time, one can forget the details. But sometimes things become very personal and … and you can't shake off the effects. That's what happened with Robert," said Anna. "He … agreed to rejoin the WSB in exchange for all our lives. In the course of his various assignments, he developed post traumatic stress disorder."

Holly's eyes widened. "Go on."

"Under extreme stress, he can have an episode like what you saw. He's only recently begun to get therapy for it."

"He will get better. It's just a matter of when, right?"

"Every case is different. And, it's not like our lives right now are exactly stress-free," said Anna. "He needs time and patience. He'll start working with Tom Hardy once we get back home. Until then, I just have to do my best to help him when I think he needs it. Prevent and minimize stress and conflict where I can. He will get better, Holly, but I don't know if he'll be the same Robert as he was before … before that mess in Venezuela. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do," said Holly. She sipped her tea and said, "Thank you for telling me the good and the bad."

"Shouldn't I have told you?"

"You didn't have to."

Anna smiled. "Of course I did, You loved Robert and he loved you. You were a large part of his life. He lets so few people get really close to him."

"Inside the wall you mean."

"Yes, that's it," said Anna. "I like knowing that there's someone else that he can open up to. Someone that he trusts enough to let his guard down with."

"But he never let his guard down entirely with me. I believe that inability affected our marriage," replied Holly. "Your place in his life was something I could accept. And, Robin is in my heart, too. But the secrets, Anna, I couldn't cope being in the dark. I tried my best. We both did." Holly pushed her tea away. "When we moved here, I thought, hoped, that he would finally let go of the past. But the opposite happened. We tried living here in this house but I guess the memories of his parents and his life here were too much. He never told me why he was so uneasy. He played it off as being reminded of his parents being gone. We bought the spread next to this and that's where we lived. We were happy. I thought we were happy."

"Robin always came back with sunburn and stories of everything she did when she visited. I didn't think you and Robert were unhappy or having problems."

"That's because the problems weren't obvious or tangible. Maybe because in Port Charles I had my own activities and here I didn't, I felt the ghosts more once we'd settled down. I think he couldn't get away from them so he distracted himself with WSB work."

"The ghosts?"

"Not real ghosts. It's what I took to calling this wall that he'd put up that I couldn't break through and that he wouldn't let me through. A wall of secrets and memories about his past that loomed in the distance all the time."

"The past is just the past."

"That's what he kept saying too. If it was so innocuous, why wouldn't he tell me about it."

That's training separating the job from our personal lives. Some things can't be shared. Period," said Anna. "The spouse of an agent or a cop has to accept him or her as they are secret warts and all."

Holly glanced sharply at Anna. "Or accept the persona that the agent chooses to present to you?"

"He wasn't doing that with you. He was himself. I know what you were like together, remember?"

"But he was. Not deliberately but he was," said Holly. "The time that you came to Port Charles made me realize that there was a side to him that I never saw or knew about. Worse, he hadn't seen fit to share that side with me. I didn't care to know all the secrets but I would have liked knowing what or who had hurt him in the past or what events happened that affected him emotionally. Things like that. In fact, I noticed that when you, Robert and Sean were together, there always seemed to be some kind of ongoing conversation that no one else was privy to but you three."

"I'm sorry if we ever made you feel excluded, Holly."

"It's all right. Not your fault that I fell in love with a man who has more layers than an onion."

"We're not born that way. Honestly. It just happens over time. It's inevitable in our business," said Anna.

"It's a form of lying and lies in a relationship are never a good sign."

"When you were doing your scams, didn't you ever pretend to be someone else?"

"Yes but I was still myself. You spies are in another league. Look at Grant. Or you. You blow into town with one persona only to find out that you're something completely different underneath."

"That's the Onion Club initiation I guess," said Anna. "Was I so different?"

"I think you were. Looking at you now, I find it hard to believe that you're the same person who showed up at my door and turned my life upside down."

"It's still me."

"The real you. Sometimes, even with Robert, it was hard to tell where the real person started and the contrived one began. It can be confusing. I am done with confusing men let me tell you."

Anna chuckled. "One day we'll come over and meet this new beau of yours."

"Give me at least twenty-four hour notice," said Holly.

"Knock, knock, is the hen party over?" came Robert's voice.

"We're just starting," said Anna.

Robert strode inside and stopped at the counter to pour himself some coffee. "Holly, Heath is going to escort you all the way to your doorstep. No arguments."

"Did I say anything?" asked Holly with giggle.

"Your plane leaves at six. I'll find a few trunks in the attic and you can pack your purchases inside the trunks."

"That would be lovely. Thank you, Robert."

He sat down next to Anna. "Um, I had our belongings moved from the other house, Holly. Your things are in the attic. I marked the trunk tags with your name. That antique tapestry we bought in India is rolled up somewhere up there."

"I loved that piece. It would look so good in my study at home."

"Feel free to rummage up there," said Robert. "Andrew's up there getting some of his collections."

"More collections?" asked Anna. "Where will put we put it?"

"He's gone through more manias than Elizabeth Taylor's had husbands," replied Robert. "He has some artsy pieces up there. Sketches, small antiques, antique bric a brac."

"Antiques and art," Anna's eyes lit up. "I'll give you a hand when you're ready, Holly."

Sean's Safe House

The bearded, heavy set man barely flicked an eyelash as a dark sedan pulled into the driveway and into the open garage. He picked up the remote control and pushed the single button. The garage doors closed smooth and nearly soundless. He put the remote into his pocket and, as a matter of habit, scanned the quiet residential street. It was early morning and all the commuters were at work. Still, he was not a trusting man. He never wanted to be caught unawares. His boss inside wouldn't like that.

A single light bulb burned bright in the scrupulously clean garage. Dressed in a gray overcoat and a stodgy stovepipe hat, Lars Hansen stepped out of the sedan and opened the door into the house. A familiar figure approached.

"Sean! Long time no see," said Hansen.

"If it wasn't important I wouldn't have made contact," said Sean. He led the way into a small den. "Thanks for squeezing me in. I'll make this quick. By the way, this room is clean and secure. No bugs. No recording devices."

"Does this have something to do with the disappearances and covert violence in Moscow and Paris?" Hansen took off his coat and sat down on the dark green leather sofa.

"No. Some old business," said Sean. "Is there concern about the purge?"

"Is that what's going on over there?"

"The DVX goes through purges periodically. I haven't seen one quite this extensive. It's going to spread out to Italy, Hungary, Czechoslovakia pretty soon."

"Is this confirmed? It's not in the official WSB briefing."

"Just my own unofficial deduction. Targets are fleeing. Where they go, the others will follow."

"Sean, if you have unofficial but credible sources of information, I'd like to know."

"I've kept my nose clean since the 90s. I'm just guessing like everyone else," assured Sean. "If I find out anything I'll tell you." He perched himself on the corner of the desk. "I requested this meeting because I need a favor."

"Name it," replied Hansen.

Sean picked up an index card lying on his desk beside a lighter and gave it to Lars. "Memorize this name and this account number then burn it."

Hansen read out loud, "Philip Coughlin - the ambassador?"

"Yes. He's career state and a very good man to trust in any circumstance."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Hansen still studying the card and trying to commit the twenty-one digit account number to memory.

"Get in touch with Phil and tell him this number. Then, one day let my family know that I'm a good guy. You'll know when. Just my wife and daughter. I don't care about anyone else."

"Sean, bad alarms are ringing here."

"It's just a precaution."

"What are you up to? Or, maybe the question should be how deep in the you-know-what are you?" asked Hansen. "Got a match?"

Sean moved the metal trash can forward, picked up the lighter and handed it to Hansen. "Who would have guessed that under the guise of all that curly hair and big teeth was a mind that remembered nearly everything."

"You knew. You recruited me, remember?"

"No, I didn't know. I just had a hunch about you. That's all."

Hansen tore the card into small pieces and let them fall into the trash can. Deftly, he lit one shard of paper with the lighter and dropped it on top of the rest. He watched as the contents began to burn. "You had the magic touch, Sean. We used to say that you had a nose for personnel."

"It was cold hard ambition. I wanted the best and I looked for them."

"I'm honored," said Hansen, former WSB agent known as the Swede.

"I'm not. I used the best and the best of the best I used up."

"It's the job, Sean. Cut yourself some slack."

"Too late for that," said Sean. He sighed. "What a team we had though. The cream of the crop - you, O'Reilly, Robert and Anna. We handled anything and everything."

"And we had fun," said Hansen with a smile. He pointed at the trash can. "Is this about an old case of ours?"

"Not the team's, no. This one predates the team."

"All right. I know when you're being evasive," said Hansen. "How deep are you in whatever this is? And have you given me your insurance policy when things hit the fan?"

"The information I've given you is … has nothing to do with my current … project. It's just something that needs to be told when the time is right."

"Something that been kept secret for this long has to be hot, Sean. Do I need to be vigilant? Guards for my family?"

Sean hook his head. "Nothing like that. I promise you."

"Does it involve national security? Military secrets? Give me a hint."

"No and no." Sean stood and begun to pace.

"I'm getting bad vibes and I've learned not to ignore them," said Lars. "What would happen if I never used this?"

"My wife and daughter will believe I'm the worst form of traitor and human scum imaginable."

"If it were anyone else, I'd think that was a bit melodramatic. Now, I'm worried."

"Don't be. It will only come into play if my project blows up in my face."

"The project that you're so carefully keeping out of the conversation. Am I right?"

"The less you know the better. I didn't want to bring you in on this but you're the best person I could think of."

"Anna and Robert? Why aren't they here?"

Sean stood stock still and crossed his arms across his chest. "Under NO circumstance are they to know about this. They are not involved."

"You're not doing much for my peace of mind, Sean."

"I know. I'm sorry. It has to be this way because it's MY mess and I have to be the one to clean it up."

"Look, Sean, out of friendship and respect, I'm here. But I need to know a little more before I can completely agree. I have a family to think about. And, have you forgotten that I AM a civilian advisor to the President and a voting member of the executive board of the WSB," said Hansen. "I have to be sure that what you're asking me to do doesn't jeopardize those roles."

"Right. You are right." Sean paced some more and came to a halt staring out the window. "Philip Coughlin is career foreign service. He's been the goto man for the political hotspots. That's what his resume will tell you. What it won't tell you is that his original training was as a covert agent. He was in training in that twilight period of time when the wartime intelligence agency, the OSS, was morphing into the WSB. Agents' records were conveniently lost or altered to suit a cover."

"My god! Is he still on the rolls?"

Sean kept staring out the window. "He's only had one assignment but it was a doozy. He recruited me from the field. Sometimes, I wish he'd chosen someone else."

"Who else knows about this?"

"Phil, me and the man who gave him the assignment - the president."

The revelation left Hansen speechless.

"The assignment took a long time and sometimes it felt like another lifetime."

Hansen found his voice. "What the hell is this?"

"It's the details, Swede. The stuff that history books don't always cover - the lies, the cover ups, the misdirection." Sean turned to look at his friend. "Phil knows the truth about me. You only know what I've let you know. Our job is all about deception and red herrings and winning. Always winning."

"I'm not hearing what I'm hearing. I can't be."

"You asked for more details. You should always watch what you ask for," said Sean. "I'm not the man you think I am, Swede. I couldn't be. Phil knows why."

"What did you do, Sean? What was your assignment?"

"The best assignment there is - to sacrifice yourself for your country, be a patriot at all times and an SOB when you have to be," said Sean. "If something happens to me, I need you to set the record straight with Tiffany and Belle because no one else will."

"If the ambassador knows then-"

Sean shook his head. "He can't. He'd expose himself. He won't do it." Sean sat down on the couch. "I'm stepping out of bounds asking you to do this but it's important to me personally. Go to Phil and he'll give you something. Give that to Tiffany. She can decide what … what to tell Belle."

"Get what, Sean? What can be so important that it's been kept under wraps all this time?"

"In the grand scheme of things, it's not important. But in the corridors of power where the scheming never ends, well, it could be very important. It's about a game that we, us, the good guys, won and the bad guys don't even know they lost. They've never known and they can't know," said Sean. "Hell, I've conditioned myself to not even think about it."

Hansen reclined back into the couch. His breathing was shallow. His face had paled. "Is … is … has this game ended?"

"Not exactly. I thought it had but the principals are still alive. One person in particular," said Sean. "Phil will be upset that I told you. Tell him I'm calling in a marker, a big one. Remind him I saved his life in Berlin. I'm sure he'll give you the files."

"Files?"

"Yes. My real record for the WSB and my mission dossier, my personal history, awards, all that kind of thing. It's all the truth under every lie I've said and every deception I've carried out. Everything I've ever said about my past, my childhood, are lies. Donely isn't even my real last name." Sean swallowed hard then continued. "And one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Phil recruited and trained me. And I recruited and trained Anna. Her file is attached to mine. She's not what she appears to be either."

Hansen was alarmed. "What about Anna? Is that her real name? Who is she?"

"A superbly trained and dedicated agent who's been branded a traitor when she never was one. Hell, she didn't even know the big picture Phil and I were working on but she was incredibly brave and committed everything she had. She's actually quite the heroine and no one can ever know. That's the tragedy," said Sean. "And the ultimate crime is mine."

"What did you do?"

"I took an earnest, talented young woman and manipulated her to fit my … plans. I never said I was sorry. I've never helped to clear her name," said Sean. "As I said, I used up the best of the best and I did it for my country. What a hypocrite I've become. Are you going to say that I … I was just doing my duty, Swede? Hmm?"

"I don't know what to say. I don't think I know you."

"That's the whole point. Does my loyalty make me less of a son of a bitch?"

"We were all just pawns to you, weren't we?" Hansen said in a hurt voice.

"Every war has casualties and heroes and villains. It's life," said Sean. "Things had to happen this way. Secrets can be weapons. You know they can. You sift through piles of intelligence data every day. You know that nothing is black or white in our business."

"But I try to find the truth and do the right thing. Always."

"Your version of the truth. There could be other versions. One man's right is another man's wrong. It's all in the perspective."

"Stop!" yelled Lars. "You're not one of them!"

"Them?"

"Yeah, the … the Faisons of the world. Why are you pushing to be perceived as one?"

"Because it's my assignment. See all sides. Know all. Manipulate the situation to our advantage. Always. Forever," said Sean. "See, it's second nature now. I'm not even aware of doing it."

"I know you're a good man, Sean. I have to believe that."

"Glad one of us does," said Sean.

"I'll do as you ask. I'll give your file to Tiffany. And Anna's I'll give to her and-"

"NO! You can't do that."

"Why not? She deserves to know."

"Because it would make her life more hellish than it already is. Her amnesia is rather convenient actually. I'm not sure that she doesn't remember all her missions or the suspicions she leveled at me once. Sometimes, I see a glimpse of something in her eyes then it's gone."

"What do you mean? Amnesia is amnesia."

"It's not exactly a topic of conversation. I know that Anna has some blind spots where her memory is concerned but what those are I have no idea. She doesn't like to talk about the past and neither do I. We prefer to sweep it under a rug or push it into a dark corner," said Sean. "I trained everyone that worked for me. But, I trained Anna differently than anyone else. She was special - the first natural Minerva agent. For that reason, she can't know."

"What is a Minerva?"

"A foolish inspiration that I thought was an ideal solution to my mission. It was a disaster then and my responsibility now to clean up," said Sean. "For now, hold on to Anna's file. I need to find out what she remembers first. If she doesn't remember anything, then you have to hold it no matter what. If she does remember … "

"What then?"

"I don't know. In that case, the next move is up to her."

"What would she do?"

"Something she doesn't think she's capable of - kill Cesar Faison then me, assuming Robert doesn't beat her to me first." Sean ran a hand through his hair. "I can't say that I wouldn't deserve it either."

"You're still friends after you told them about me and the fact that I didn't die to cover up Anna's role as a DVX agent. It can't be that bad, Sean."

"It can. I can't let it spiral out of control this time. I just can't."

"Why not just tell them? Maybe they'll help with whatever mess you're in."

"I've put them through enough," Sean insisted. "I've got time to fix things."

Hansen looked hard at Sean. "You're terrified. I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face. What's really going on, Sean? There's more you're not telling me. I'd like to help."

"I've been as honest as I can be. To tell you more would be incredibly stupid," said Sean. "Promise me that you'll do what I've asked."

Lars nodded. "When the time is right, I'll do exactly as you instructed."

"Thank you. That's a load off my head and my heart," said Sean. He looked at his watch. "I've taken up enough of your time. You're a busy man."

"Never too busy for my friends. Call me anytime if you need to talk." Hansen stood up and began to put on his coat. "Anything else I should know?"

"A second favor. Could you keep an eye on Connie for me?"

"Is Connie involved in your plans?"

"Can you do it or not?"

"I'll do my best. That's all I can promise."

"That will have to do." Sean shook his hand and led him to the garage.

Minutes later, Sean stepped out to porch. He addressed the man in the chair reading a paper.

"Prescott, I'm expecting someone else sometime today. Stay put, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Let me know when she's here," said Sean.

"A woman agent?"

"Yes. No chit chat. Show some respect, huh," ordered Sean.

"Sure, boss," said Prescott. "Women complicate things. That's all I'm saying."

"Well, it's called Pandora's Box not Peter's Box, right?" asked Sean. "Women can be trouble but they do make life interesting."