“As you wish.” He gave a slight bow, and turned to the first filing cabinet.
We found cloths in the kitchen, cleaning as much as possible. Some of the cabinets were locked, leaving Doc and me to search for the keys. Aiden never left the Germans, keeping an eye out for anything that might be taken without permission.
I found a large key ring, and jogged to the room. With a sigh of relief, I opened the locked cabinets, sat down, and started to look through drawers of papers.
I checked my cell phone, chuckling at the passing time. Stacks upon stacks of paperwork surrounding the seats we’d chosen, concentrating for what turned out to be the last five hours. Pushing the chair back, I stretched.
Peter looked up, and followed suit.
“It’s been five hours. Have you found what you seek?” I tilted my head. I’d been through history, some of it perception changing, respect for my father growing sheet by sheet.
“So far, Fraulein, we’ve found ten files. Mind if we come back tomorrow? We barely made a dent.” He looked around the room. “May I bring more men to help?” He met my gaze.
“No. If I find anything I’ll hand it over. Hand over the ten files you’ve found so far, and you can get those out of here.” I lifted a hand to take the files.
An expression crossed his face, and my instincts fired up. “Now, Mr. Schloss.”
Reluctantly, he handed them over, sitting back heavily. I went through each file carefully, handing over each as I completed the perusal. A lot of the paperwork pertained to the Cold War, and some domestic state secrets.
I made all of them turn around, showing they hid nothing. “Tomorrow, do not bring any briefcases, etc. Same thing. We’ll start early in the morning. I have to contact my uncle regarding some of this,” I made a gesture toward the files piling up. “You can only bring these men, nobody else.”
I could see the reluctance to agree, and a flash of anger at the mention of the VPOTUS. I’d done it on purpose, because the only reason they were down here was at my uncle’s request, and Peter knew it.
After checking again for any hidden paperwork, I made sure they only had the approved files, and ushered them out of the room after locking the cabinets again. I punched the code into all the locks, waiting for the sounds.
Topside again, the group left in rented SUVs. The attention getting helicopter was nowhere to be seen. I waited until they were out of sight and went inside. Punching the number, speaking as soon as the feminine voice answered, “Hey, Carol. It’s Karen.”
Two soft clicks and my uncle’s voice flowed easily through the line. “How’d it go, Karrie-girl?”
“You need to send them back to pick up some paperwork. I found a lot of files and learned a few paradigm shifting secrets.”
“He did steal them, that rascal.”
“Don’t send anyone to bully me either. I’ll kick all their asses out in a heartbeat, do you hear me?” I could hear the anger, the need to maintain control.
“I’ll only send certain ones. You approve what goes in and out.”
“Thanks, Uncle. Plus I think I need the backup. Peter Schloss wasn’t happy about my looking through the paperwork they did find, or making them prove nothing was hidden.”
“I don’t doubt it. It was a long and drawn out negotiation, but when I reminded them what they’d done to you, they gave in. Schloss is a cousin of the man who gave you the back scar. He’ll try to take a few other things if he can, it’s normal.” He chuckled.
“Good, give me the back up.”
“No problem, Karrie-girl.”
“Uncle?” I dropped my chin to my chest, whispering.
“Yes, honey?”
“I love you. I thought I should tell you that.”
“I love you, too.” He hung up.
I stared at the cell phone, not really seeing it. More men, or women, tomorrow, in the room, or surrounding it, anyway. More people to deal with, more worries someone would betray me.
I could feel the panic clawing its way to the top, surrounding my heart, restricting my breathing. I closed my eyes, trying to visualize Laramie in the winter, silent and beautiful, with the full moon sliding across newly fallen snow, creating dark sparkles in the night. The coyotes trying to survive, the hawks swooping silently in the air hunting, life moving forward, step by step, with or without me. One day, I would choose to join them. One day I would be strong enough to live again.
I hoped.
Chapter Thirty Three
Uncle didn’t disappoint. A group of twenty men and women arrived at 0600, filling the house, and politely waiting for any word from me. I stared, trying to come to grips with the new situation.
Peter Schloss and his security detail arrived, and I had to hold back the burst of laughter at the look on his face. I think I foiled something, and he didn’t like it one bit. He gave me an angry look, and I shrugged.
“There is a lot down there that needs to go to the U.S. government. I needed help.” I don’t think he believed a word I said.
We took the twenty seven foot drop into the bunker, Doc and Aiden never leaving my side. I’d brought supplies and informed Peter that anytime he, or his men, left the room, they’d have to prove nothing was being snuck out. He turned a bright shade of red, I’d insulted him. But my instincts shut up, and I ignored him.
We spent all day in the room, managing to clear out four of the metal filing cabinets. I went through the files Peter wanted and found one he didn’t need. I held it up, “Well?”
Shoulders back, and lifting his chin, “It belongs to the German government.”
“No, it doesn’t. This is sensitive information regarding the USSR, not Germany.” I glared, and handed the file to a woman who quickly walked out with it.
“It contains information about Germany.”
“Glauben sie, ich bin Dummkopf, Herr Schloss?” Do you believe I’m an imbecile, Mr. Schloss? I ground out in perfect German. I didn’t acknowledge the looks of surprise, having let them assume I didn’t know the language. They’d spoken in German most of the day, and why I suspected them of trying to get away with something.
“Why did you not tell us you spoke Deutsch?” He took a step in my direction.
“Because you thought I was stupid, and it comes in handy. Considering the last six months of my life, it’s a survival skill.” I let a foot slide back a little, falling into my thighs.
He watched my movements and backed away, hands in the air. “I apologize, Fraulein. You are correct, we thought you would not know our language. You are as intelligent, and as cunning, as your mother.”
I straightened in astonishment. “What do you know of my mother?” I choked out.
He turned deep red, “I was not supposed to say, however, you surprised me. You are a direct descendent of the Habsburgs of Austria, and my third cousin.”
“No, my mother left the moment I was born.”
“Yes, Fraulein, that is true. She had to leave, for your paternal family required it to be so. You were a political time bomb. Too many tensions between communist Germany, and free Germany, as well as the United States. You would have been a pawn, and your father was the best bet to keep you safe.”
“Is she still alive?” I whispered.
“No, she died of cancer when you turned sixteen. The mare known as Ringing Alarm was her last gift to you.”
I sat heavily in a chair, arms across my lap, mouth hanging open. Snapping it closed, taking a deep breath, I whispered, “Why lie to me? Why ignore me? Why have Wolfgang torture me?”
Peter sighed and pulled a chair out, waving everyone out of the room. He waited until the two of us were alone. “Wolfgang is not related to you, nor did he know. By the time your father died, he felt it was best you never know, and our governments agreed. Senator Wheeling ruined it with his need for power.”
“So, before you ever set foot on my property, you knew.” I stood, hands on the table, and leaned forward, “You knew and were going to keep it a secret.”
“It is part of the paperwork we are searching for. State secrets, even living ones, must remain a secret.”
Rage flowed freely to the top, and I wanted to punch the man. To pummel everyone who knew of a secret about my life. The ones who’d let me believe I was so unworthy of love, my mother walked away. I wanted to beat the crap out of my father, rail against my mother. “I’ll let Uncle know.” I shoved the rest of the approved folders into his hand. “And none of my people are leaving until this is done. Do not try to bring more of your people in, I’m done playing.”
I stalked out, Doc keeping his muzzle against my knee. At the entrance, I motioned everyone out. I checked to ensure nobody tried anything, locked the cabinet doors, and all the entrance doors until we arrived in the stables. I stood at the entrance, counting everybody exiting. I trusted none.
When it was finally down to Brent, Maria, Aiden and myself, I changed into clothes I had not worn since the whole fiasco started. My trainer gear.
I grabbed the small horse whip, lunge line and halter. I’d come up with a plan for Five Alarm while packed into the room going through papers.
I approached the stall, letting emotions fall to the wayside. I owed Five Alarm. I made plenty of noise, since half his eyesight was gone. I talked and whistled. He slammed against the stall door, neighing, and snorting. I stood where he could see me, and didn’t move, forcing my body to relax, and a neutral expression.
Ten minutes later, he stopped and looked at me. In his soft brown eyes, I saw fear, and betrayal. So similar to my own state of mind. Exactly like my state of mind.
I opened the door, making clicking sounds. I’d already opened the gate into the arena, closed the stable doors so he couldn’t escape.
“Come on, baby boy. It’s me. You know me.” I spoke low and even, watching his ear go back and forth. He snorted, pawing the ground. I stopped and waited. Five minutes passed. His ear pricked forward and he watched me. “That’s it.” I held the halter aloft, remaining still. He extended his neck, stopping six inches away, and took a good whiff of the halter. Followed by two tentative steps. I wanted to jump up and down, but forced myself to stay calm and in control. Two more steps and he put his nose inside, keeping an eye on me. I put a hand on his nose. He jerked, muscles twitching, skin jumping. Once he calmed, I slid the halter up his nose, making all movements slow. I ensured he felt everything I was going to do.
I buckled the halter, getting the first close look at the stump left of his ear. It hadn’t been cut, it had been ripped off. I looked away, fighting tears. If he could live through it, I could look at it, and understand what he’d gone through. “Shhh, big boy.” I made a series of clicks and whistles. His good ear swiveled, and he nickered. I slid my hand from the top of his nose to his cheek, rubbing a spot he favored. He licked his lips once. “I know, I know.” I tried to touch a scar, but he threw his head back, snorting. “Sorry! I’m sorry,” I whispered. He licked his lips again. I had him in that second. Tears tracked down my cheeks, the scarring on his left side massive, the eye removed, and healing wounds scarring his neck. My hand traveled his hide, making clicking sounds. The wounds from the scalpel, the road rash from the overturned trailer, the stitches, and massive scars on his knees and legs. “Oh, my beautiful, beautiful boy.”
I gently hooked the lunge line onto his halter and walked out. He followed, head in a relaxed position, snorting, and making grumbling noises. We walked sedately into the aisle, and he faltered. I stopped, waited. I felt the line release a little and I led him forward again.
It took the better part of an hour to get him into a far round pen. I released him, facing the right. I clicked twice and he moved out, walking. Over the next few moments, I let him feel the lunge line, waited for submission. He started to lick his lips, softened in his movements as muscles warmed up. I slowed him down, and using the horse whip, began the process of teaching him to run half blind.
We made progress, and I took him to the washing pens. A hot bath, convincing him to let me see his hooves, and a good brush. He was mush as I led him to the stall. Brent left as I walked down the aisle, Five Alarm following easily. Brent stopped and gaped. I put one finger over my lips and shook my head twice. He nodded and walked away.
I bedded him down and went into the house. I was filthy and exhausted. I couldn’t stop seeing the scars, the fear in his eyes. I was haunted, and helpless. Filled with deep, resonating guilt, unable to accept I couldn’t have saved him from some of the torture and mutilation. He’d counted on me, and I’d let him down.
I couldn’t speak and left everyone at the table, moving swiftly to the steps. Emotional pain made me trip up the stairs, and I finally managed to get into the bedroom. Doc squeezed in, and I shut the door, locking it. I leaned against it, trying to understand, to navigate through the baggage.
I slid down the door, knees to my chest, and stared at Doc through natural saline. He sat next to me, and I slung an arm over him.
A knock on the door caused my muscles to jump.
“Karen, you need to let us in,” Aiden’s voice carried easily.
I knew the double entendre, but it was impossible. It was my burden to carry, my nightmares, my guilt. I would never toss it onto someone else’s shoulders, even my best friend. “Go away, Aiden. It’s mine.”
I heard a thump, followed by fists banging heavily on the door. The vibrations skittered down my spine.
“Damn it to hell, Karen! It isn’t only your burden! I saw a lot too! We both carry the load,” he yelled.
I stood, needing to hit something, anything. Crying wasn’t a strong suit, despite months of unending tears, but anger sure as hell was.
I yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall. “No, Aiden, you weren’t there in the beginning, when that little bastard broke my arm and killed Rage. You weren’t there when he attacked and sodomized me. You weren’t there when I fucked up and jackknifed the rig. You weren’t there, listening to Five’s screams of pain and terror, as the truck slid out of control. You weren’t there when that evil son of a bitch slit an innocent woman’s throat, or cared for the person whose chest had been skinned, and turned out to be the reason it all happened. It is my burden.” I slammed the door shut, locking it. I closed my eyes, seeing his face. The horror as he found out things I’d never vocalized, especially after the whole court ordered therapist fiasco.
I flopped on my bed, curled in a fetal position. Doc snuggled close, head on my waist. I rubbed his ears, letting the anger come. Anger was better than panic, or fear, or helplessness. Anger could be used, anger could be controlled. Anger would get me through another day.
Chapter Thirty Four
I did another circuit around the bedroom, seeing the heavy, forest green drapes and large bed. The camera lens glinted in the overhead light, and I waited. He’d arrive soon, pissed about the butter knife. I hurt all over, breasts bleeding, a trickle of blood running down my thighs. Throbbing pain wracked my body, and I contemplated finding a gun to end it.
Johnny walked into the room, “There you are, a filly who needs to be broken in.” He leered, dark green eyes glinting with malice.
I screamed, and fell out of the bed, the dark purple duvet wrapped around my legs. Sweat soaked the pajamas, and the ghosts of injuries made every nerve come to life. The door slammed open, and a disheveled Aiden stood in the moonlight, chest heaving, brandishing a brand new SIG semi-automatic. He checked the room, walking into shadows searching for danger.
“Karen, it’s okay, I’m here,” he spoke low and calm. He flipped the safety, laid the weapon on the bed. I made panicked noises as I tried to untangle from the bedding, whimpered at his voice.
“No more, please, no more. I can’t take anymore,” I cried. It wasn’t Aiden’s face I saw in the dark.
He stopped and flicked the lamp on. I rolled to hide my face.
“Don’t, leave me alone,” I begged.
“I can’t. It’s okay, Karen, it’s me, Aiden. Come on, honey, le
t’s get you to the bathroom.” He took very slow steps, stopping anytime I flinched. He made soothing noises, put a hand on my hip, and I cried out. He left it there, “It’s me.”
I put a shaking hand over his, feeling familiar scars, and met his gaze, my eyes wide. He slid it lightly over my hip and waist, and under an arm until he got a grip on my armpit. Gently, he helped me to stand.
I looked over every inch of the room, finding a little blood on the duvet and sheets. My face bloomed red. “I need to clean up and take care of this,” I whispered while pointing at the evidence.
He nodded and put my arm over his shoulders, holding tight, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Easy now.”
In the bathroom, he grabbed new pajamas, and started the shower. He left without a word.
I cleaned up, and walked into the bedroom, body throbbing. I noticed the limping, and tried to walk straight. My hip gave out, and fell to a knee. Aiden finished changing the sheets on the bed and helped me up. He sighed heavily, swung me into his arms, and proceeded to tuck me into bed.
“Do you want me to stay like I used to? I could find some sleeping bags and make a decent pallet on the floor,” his hands planted next to my shoulders.
“I have to learn to sleep alone,” I tried to roll away.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“Why? The Colonel is dead, your orders are null and void.”
“Because for the first time in a decade, I made a friend I understand. I’ll stay, no obligations. I do this because I want to. I’m going to ask again, do you want me to make a pallet on the floor?” He raised an eyebrow.
In a small voice, I replied, “Yes, please.” I couldn’t look him in the eye.
He nodded and left, returning ten minutes later with an inflatable mattress, four sleeping bags, three pillows and a worn teddy bear.
“A teddy bear?” I frowned.
“You think you are the only one with PTSD? I sleep with Fozzy whenever possible, he reminds me of the present, keeps me from wallowing in the past.” He shrugged and set about making the bed.
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