If You're Going Through Hell Keep Going

by Tinnean

  The bout came to an end and they saluted each other with their foils. M. Bélanger noticed me.

  “Vincent.” He signaled his opponent, and they approached me. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “You know how it is with the holidays.” I’d been out of the country with Quinn, showing him my island off Costa Rica, and then we’d spent New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with his family. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Rayne.”

  “He looked like he had you on the run.”

  For some reason, M. Bélanger found that amusing. “Would you care to cross swords with Rayne?”

  “I use an épée.”

  “I can switch,” Rayne offered in a husky tone.

  I raised an eyebrow, but the mask hid his face. I decided to ignore the innuendo. “That’s okay.” Quinn used a foil, and sometimes we’d practice with them. “Let me suit up and we can have a match.”

  The little son of a bitch was good. I had the feeling it was only my extended reach that enabled me to get the last hit. We stepped back and saluted each other.

  “Let’s grab a shower. I want to talk to you.”

  “Ah, I need to speak with Rayne, Vincent,” M. Bélanger said. “You go ahead.”

  “Okay.”

  But Rayne didn’t show up in the shower, and when I left the locker room, he was gone. I’d have questioned M. Bélanger, but I could see him in his office, tied up with paperwork and muttering about the imbécile who’d snapped a blade, thus requiring the report.

  I understood only too well the demands of paperwork, so I decided not to distract him.

  I checked my watch. I’d look into Rayne another time. I was having dinner with Quinn and if I didn’t hustle, I’d be late.

  The next day I’d logged into my computer and did a search for Rayne, but apparently the WBIS didn’t have an agent by that name. I checked every department, in case he was one of the support staff, without any luck.

  I went back up to the gym.

  “Who’s this Rayne guy?” I asked M. Bélanger.

  “Just someone I’m coaching for next year’s Olympics in Athens.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, he’s good. Give me a call the next time he’s here.”

  “I’ll do that.” He seemed to be having a hard time not laughing.

  I left, wondering again what was so funny.

  Rayne’s qualifications were damned good. A former Marine who’d left the service after six years with the rank of E5, an excellent shot, and a more than capable fencer….

  And now I knew what had amused M. Bélanger.

  On the file was a post-it from The Boss. It indicated he wanted me to seriously consider her.

  Yeah, a woman. Looked like Mr. Wallace was going to drag the WBIS into the twenty-first century kicking and screaming.

  M. Bélanger must have thought Rayne would be a good edition to the WBIS as well, because his recommendation was also attached to the file.

  I set up an interview for the following day and went on to the next file.

  Chapter 13

  Something had been gnawing at me, and eventually I set aside the file on a mechanic named Johnson, and took out my cell phone, dialing a local florist. I wanted Portia to realize I supported her choice, even if it was Novotny.

  “Carnations and Roses and Orchids, Oh My,” the voice on the other end of the line announced. “How may I help you?”

  “I’d like to order an arrangement to be delivered today, if that’s possible.”

  “The destination?”

  “Great Falls.”

  “That won’t be a problem at all. What did you have in mind?”

  I told him—coral roses, ferns, and baby’s breath in the nicest vase he had in stock.

  “I have something very nice in sterling silver.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you like a card included?”

  “Yeah. Put on it Here’s wishing you both many years of happiness. All My Best, Mark.” I gave him Portia’s address and my credit card information, jotted down the tracking number, and hung up. I wondered what Novotny would think of the roses. Maybe I should have sent red ones, just to drive him nuts.

  Grinning at that thought, I got back to the file I’d been going through.

  Johnson had also worked in R&D with Romero, who gave him a glowing recommendation, along with a warning that I wasn’t to scare him off, that if I didn’t want him, Romero would take him back.

  Huh.

  Ms. Parker came in with a fresh cup of coffee for me.

  I reached for another file, and then glanced at my watch. I’d expected The Boss to call me by now.... I drummed my fingertips on the file on my desk.

  “Mr. Vincent?”

  “Huh? Oh, thanks.” I took the cup, a little surprised when she didn’t return to her desk. I looked up from the file. Her eyes were reddened, as if she’d been crying. “Morris is gone, so you shouldn’t have any more problems from Human Resources.”

  “Oh, I heard. Thank you.” She hovered. Ms. Parker never hovered.

  “Anything else?” I asked as I raised the coffee to my mouth.

  “Um… no.” She turned and hurried out.

  Goddammit, was she having trouble with Granger? As much as I liked him, if he was screwing with my secretary, I’d separate his balls from his body and make him eat his left testicle.

  I resumed beating a restless tattoo on my desk with my fingertips. I couldn’t ask Ms. Parker to get Granger on the line for me, but I had his number in my cell phone. I pulled it up and hit send.

  It went directly to his voice mail, so I left a message. “Granger, it’s Vincent. I want to talk to you. Call me when you get this.”

  I hung up, took a sip of coffee, and got back to Johnson’s file.

  The intercom buzzed. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Davies wants you in his office.”

  I checked my watch. Yep, ten on the nose. Still no word from The Boss, though. “Thanks. Call Matheson—he is at work today, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes. Ari—Ms. DiNois said he was.”

  “Okay, then. In that case, call him and tell him I want him to meet me on ten ASAP.” I slid the CD into the drive, turned off my computer, and set my cell phone to vibrate. I didn’t want anything to interrupt my meeting with Davies.

  Then I went up to deal with him.

  By the time I reached ten, I could hear Matheson coming up behind me. I stepped out of the stairwell, and about a minute later, Matheson exited as well. He was a little flushed, but he was breathing easily.

  “Sir.”

  “I’m warning you ahead of time that this has to do with Theo. Unless I tell you otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  I walked into PR’s outer office with Matheson at my heels. Bancroft turned from his monitor, a sneer on his lips. As soon as he saw who it was, he sighed and replaced the expression on his face with something more conciliatory. This probably felt like a repeat of last year’s dustup to him.

  “Mr. Davies isn’t expecting Matheson.”

  “Looks like he’s getting him anyway. Let him know I’m here, but don’t mention Matheson.”

  I waited until Bancroft passed on the message and released the intercom button before bypassing him and opening the door into Davies’s office.

  Davies frowned at me, but I could see the excitement in his eyes. “Well, Vincent. Have you made your decision?”

  I had a feeling no matter what I told him, he intended to see both Matheson and I were no longer part of the WBIS.

  And then he spotted my senior special agent behind me. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He works here.”

  For a second, I thought steam was going to shoot out of his ears. “I told you I just wanted you!”

  I leaned against his desk and batted my lashes at him. “I’m in a relationship.”

  “You… you….” He got himse
lf under control, and as much as it burned my butt, I was willing to give him one thing: he was an experienced director. He sat back and grinned, as if he hadn’t been two seconds away from a meltdown. But then he blew it by aiming his spleen at my agent. “Tell me, Matheson. What’s it like knowing your boyfriend is a whore, that most of DC has fucked him?”

  Matheson lunged toward him, and I caught his arm. He whirled around, staring at me with such fury in his gaze, I understood why Adams had recruited him.

  “Keep your man under control!” Davies snapped.

  “You should have worried about that before you flaunted that damned video in front of him.”

  “I’m senior director here, and I do whatever I choose! I intend to see Matheson out of here, Vincent! I’ll see you both out of here!”

  “You think? The videotape you gave me has been destroyed. What I want to know is how you got it.”

  “That’s this department’s business. I don’t have to explain anything to you!”

  “No?” I made sure he saw my fingers twitch, as if I wanted to grab him by the collar, drag him across his desk, and flatten his nose, and he shied back, shoving his chair away from me. Word must have gotten around of how I’d pretty much done that to Gershom. “Who the fuck gave it to you?” At this point I didn’t want him to know I was aware of the part Honeycutt had played in this.

  “Do you mean this tape?” He held up another black case and sneered. That must have been where Bancroft got it from. “Did you believe I wouldn’t make a copy?”

  “No, actually I expected you to do just that.” I could feel how antsy Matheson was getting, but he kept quiet. I reached across the desk, yanked the tape out of Davies’s hand, and gave it to Matheson.

  Davies glowered up at me. “How dare you?”

  I ignored him. “Make sure of this,” I told Matheson.

  “Yes, sir.” He opened the case, withdrew the tape, and tossed the case aside. Then he went to the TV/VCR combo Davies kept in a corner.

  While it played, I kept my eyes on Davies. Again we heard the lust in the man’s voice as he ordered the skinny teen, “Fuck yourself on my cock!”

  A look of distaste crossed Davies’s face. “Fag,” he muttered under his breath.

  “It’s the same video, sir,” Matheson said. “It’s easy to tell this is a copy. The quality is poorer than the one you showed me.”

  “You know what to do with it.” Fortunately, he hadn’t heard Davies. Davies would have been dead meat, and I couldn’t allow that. Not within the walls of the WBIS; it would be a pain in the ass to dispose of the body.

  Not to say it couldn’t be done, but it would ruin the rest of our day.

  Matheson ejected the video and began stripping the tape from the cassette. Davies jerked as if he wanted to grab it away from my agent, but a glance at me had him sinking back into his chair.

  “That means nothing. I can get another copy!”

  Fuck it. I rolled the dice. “From Honeycutt?”

  “What… How do you know of Honeycutt?”

  “I had you followed.” I wasn’t going to say I’d actually confronted the son of a bitch. As far as the world was concerned, I’d never met the man, and if that was the case, there was no way I could be tied to his disappearance.

  “That’s impossible!”

  Jesus. “You had dinner with Honeycutt at the restaurant in the William Henry Harrison Hotel. You neglected to tip the waiter, and Honeycutt made no effort to. Want me to tell you what you ordered for your meal?”

  “But... but…” His shield slipped, and he looked baffled. “You knew what I could do to you. I had you on the run! You were terrified!”

  Matheson choked back a laugh.

  “Anson, Anson, Anson.” God, he hated when I called him by his first name, and when I used it three times in a row, that really drove him crazy. “Did you honestly think I was afraid of someone like you?”

  “You said….”

  “I lied. Tell me something. Did you have any idea what Honeycutt had planned for that kid?” It would be interesting to see how deep into this he was.

  “What do I care? He’s a whore, a worthless whore!”

  There was a cracking sound as the cassette broke under Matheson’s grip.

  “Matheson.” I kept my tone level. “You’re done here. Go back to your office.”

  “May I say something, sir?”

  I grinned at Davies, although I made sure there was nothing pleasant about it. “Sure.” Maybe that was when Davies realized he’d pushed his luck a bit too far.

  “My fiancé is not worthless, Mr. Davies, and he’s not a whore.”

  “Fiancé?” For a second I thought Davies was going to stroke out, which would have saved us all a lot of trouble, but no such luck.

  Matheson continued, not taking his gaze off Davies. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him, and he doesn’t deserve to have a miserable piece of shit like you smugly gloat about what was done to him when he was a boy. I destroyed this tape, and Mr. Vincent destroyed the one you gave him on Friday.” He slid a glance my way but said nothing about the tape I’d given him the night before. “My fiancé’s got a lot of friends, and if any of them find out you’re passing around another copy of that video, I will find you, and when I do, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  “You’ll go to prison for life!”

  Matheson shrugged. “What difference will that make to you? You’ll be dead.”

  Very nice touch. I approved.

  Matheson turned to me, and although his expression was contained, I could see his hands shaking. “Thank you for letting me open my mouth, sir.”

  “Don’t mention it. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Spend it in bed.”

  “Thank you, but if I come home this early, he’ll know something happened.”

  “Your call. But if you need to go home, go.”

  He nodded, gave Davies a final, cool stare, and walked out. “Oh!”

  There was the soft murmur of voices. Had he run into Bancroft, lurking at the doorway? It didn’t matter.

  “Tell me something, Davies. How long did you keep that tape before you sent it to me? Did you jerk off to that poor kid getting fucked?”

  “How dare you! I wouldn’t find something of that nature arousing! Unlike you, I’m not queer!”

  “No, but you’re a bastard!”

  He ground his teeth, and if he were a better man than he was, he’d have jumped over his desk and attacked me. But he wasn’t any kind of a man. After a minute, he relaxed and smirked. “Trevor Wallace is going to hear of what’s gone on here today. You’re through, Vincent. You’ve just signed your own death warrant!”

  “I’ll worry about that.” I slid my hand into my trouser pocket and pulled out the knife I always carried. The blade snapped out, and Davies gasped.

  “What are you…?”

  “I know what Godard did, I know what you got his daughter to do. And I know what you had planned for The Boss.”

  Whatever color was in his face leached out. “That’s….”

  I’d never seen anyone look more like a fish out of water.

  “I warned you to leave Interior Affairs alone.” I walked around his desk, and with each step forward, he rolled his chair back. Finally, he ran out of space. I grabbed his collar to hold him in place, brought the blade to his face, and ran the flat side gently over his cheekbone.

  “You’re insane!”

  “You should have worried about that before you decided to stick your nose into my department again. How many times does this make?”

  “I… you…. That’s utter rubbish!”

  “Is it?” I turned the blade and watched as a thin line of red appeared on his cheek.

  “Mark!” The Boss barked. How long had he been standing there and how much had he heard? And was he going to bring up what I’d e-mailed him last night? “What’s going on here?”

  I nodded toward the ribbon of tape that was in a pile on the floor. “The
Director of Public Relations used a thirteen-year-old video in an attempt to decimate Interior Affairs.”

  The Boss rubbed his gut. “Is this true, Anson?”

  “The WBIS can’t afford to have people like Vincent and his boyfriend in this organization!”

  Huh? Quinn was CIA. And then I realized he was talking about Matheson.

  “You can’t have it both ways, Davies. Either Matheson is involved with a whore, or he’s involved with me. Or did you think I was having a threesome with the two of them?” God, his mind was disgusting. Sure, both men were easy on the eyes, but I preferred my lover to be closer to my own age.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it.

  The Boss went to the door. “Bancroft, go to lunch.”

  “It’s… uh… early for lunch, sir.”

  “Then take a coffee break.”

  “Yes, sir.” And in spite of the distance, we could hear the outer door close softly.

  “Now, Anson, suppose you tell me your side of this. Mark, close that knife and put it away.” He took a seat, crossed his legs, and waited for Davies to begin.

  “A friend contacted me regarding Matheson.” Davies took a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the blood on his cheek. “It seems he’s living with another man.”

  The Boss sighed. “You know it’s WBIS policy to stay out of the personal lives of our agents.”

  Davies didn’t look happy being reminded of that. “Yes, but Matheson is living with a male prostitute. I simply informed Vincent of this fact and that for the good of the WBIS, such behavior wasn’t to be tolerated. I asked him to inform Matheson of this so he could terminate the relationship. I was willing to give Matheson the benefit of the doubt—”

  “Bullshit!”

  He glared at me, and The Boss sighed again. “Mark.”

  Well, it was bullshit. And why wasn’t he calling Davies on the files I’d sent him? Was he going to back this— I bit back the rest of that thought, along with any further comments.

  Davies continued. “Frankly, Trevor, I’ve had concerns about him since last year, when he was involved in the disappearance of the man who was contracted to do work for the Huntingdon complex in Phoenix.”

  “That would be Fitzwilliam, I believe.”