Captive of Fate

by Lindsay McKenna

  Early Thursday morning, Alanna placed a call to Peggy. “I’m coming home early, Peggy. The work is completed, and I’ll have the report on the senator’s desk by Monday morning.”

  “Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad you called in! The senator is anxious for you to return and wants to see you the minute you land. I’ll pass the word along that you’ll be arriving at Washington International at three this afternoon.”

  Alanna hung up, on the verge of mental and emotional exhaustion. She ignored Peggy’s bright mood, not stopping to wonder why the woman was suddenly being so friendly. Right now, all she wanted to do was get to her apartment, find Matt’s home phone number, and contact him. God, how she missed him!

  * * *

  The flight was bumpy, making her even more irritable by the time the jet landed. It was cold and rainy; the winds buffeted the plane strongly from the northwest. She hadn’t slept well for several days, worrying about being out of touch with Matt. What would he think? He couldn’t know she had forgotten his phone number. And, afraid of the Washington grapevine, she hadn’t wanted to mail a note to his Pentagon office. Would he be worried? Angry, perhaps? No, she told herself, he would understand. She got up, joining the line of people trudging out single file from the plane. After she explained it to him, he would understand. A tired smile pulled at her mouth. They would both laugh at her silly mistake later over a drink at her apartment. As she emerged from the congested boarding area into the main airport, Alanna was mentally planning the logistics of spending the evening with Matt.

  She was so enmeshed in her thoughts that she failed to see the wall of photographers, television cameras, and other media representatives who were waiting like anticipating vultures as she walked into full view. Flashbulbs popped, the blinding strobe lights of the portable television cameras snapped on, and reporters crying out Alanna’s name brought her to a stunned, shocked halt.

  “Ms. McIntire! Ms. McIntire!” one aggressive reporter yelled, thrusting his microphone ahead of the wall of human bodies as they surged forward toward Alanna. “Is it true? Have you finally ripped open Colonel Breckenridge’s black market ring down in Costa Rica? Tell me, how did you find out he was stealing medical provisions?”

  Alanna’s eyes widened enormously, and her lips parted. A tidal wave of fear consumed her as she stared open-mouthed at the reporters and television crews. They swirled around her like buzzards circling a dying animal. More microphones were thrust at her like weapons. The brightness of the lights caused her to shield her eyes momentarily.

  “How did you do it, Ms. McIntire?”

  “Senator Thornton says you were responsible for proving Colonel Breckenridge’s complicity. Do you have a comment for us? Do you find the colonel’s actions as despicable as the senator does?”

  “The senator says you were responsible for gathering the evidence and would testify before the special investigative committee looking into this matter.”

  Panic struck her, and adrenaline surged through her body, making her want to run and hide from their relentless attack. Stunned and confused, she made a half-turn, bumping into another reporter, a red-haired woman who smiled brightly at Alanna.

  “How did you gather this evidence in Costa Rica?” she asked.

  Alanna wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening! No…oh, God, no! Her mind was blanking out from shock. Matt, she screamed silently, Matt, I need to talk to you! Oh, God, what’s happened? There wasn’t any evidence against you! What happened?

  “Please, give us a statement!” someone else shouted over the noise.

  Alanna felt the growing silence as all eyes and cameras were trained upon her. The woman reporter at her elbow reacted first.

  “Did you gather evidence?” she pressed.

  Alanna glanced at her, her eyes wide and startled. “I—uh, yes, I did, but—”

  “Isn’t it true Colonel Breckenridge gave you a hard time right after you landed in Costa Rica?” another reporter shouted.

  “Yes, but I—”

  “And didn’t you find pieces of medical crates in the highlands a few days later?”

  Her nostrils flared, and she felt real paranoia. “We found crates, but they didn’t belong to the San Dolega effort!” she nearly shouted. “Matt—I mean Colonel Breckenridge was with me, and we both agreed that the crates weren’t from San Dolega,” she repeated, her voice charged with raw emotion.

  A television crew shoved their way forward, and Alanna recognized a man from one of the local stations. “Ms. McIntire, the senator says that he has evidence to prove that those crates were from the San Dolega relief effort and that a missionary had brought evidence to him prior to that. What do you have to say to that? Was Colonel Breckenridge trying to lead you off the trail?”

  She looked around wildly for some avenue of escape. She had to find Matt! The initial shock had worn off, and now the adrenaline that had been pumping so strongly through her body took over. She glared at the television reporter, pushing by him.

  “Colonel Breckenridge never lied to me!” she snapped, and then she shouldered her way through the crowd as quickly as she could, hurrying down the long tiled corridor toward the baggage claim.

  They followed her, hounds on the scent of their quarry. To her relief, Alanna spotted Senator Thornton’s chauffeur waiting in the baggage area. She ran forward to meet him, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

  “Stephen, please drive me to the office. Immediately. You can come back and pick up my baggage later.”

  The white-haired chauffeur nodded briskly, taking her airline folder.

  “Of course, Ms. McIntire. The senator wanted me to take you to his office as soon as your chat with the reporters were finished.”

  Alanna shot a look over her shoulder; the group of reporters was fast closing in on them. “Just get me out of here,” she whispered tightly. “Now!”

  * * *

  Distraught, Alanna walked quickly by Peggy’s desk and twisted the handle of the door to the senator’s inner office.

  “Alanna,” he greeted warmly, putting his pen beside the document he had just signed. “Thank you for dropping by. I’m sure you must be exhausted after the jet flight and your interview with the press. I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to this in the future, but please, sit down, my dear. We have several topics to discuss.”

  She ran her fingers tensely through her dark hair.

  “Senator, what is going on? I didn’t find Colonel Breckenridge guilty of anything at San Dolega!” Her voice rose in pitch as she asked the question. He gave her a paternal smile, as if he were dealing with a precocious child who had just thrown a temper tantrum.

  “My dear child, you are white as a sheet. Here, have some brandy. I’m sorry that Peggy forgot to inform you that the press would be there, but surely you knew about all this? After all, it’s been on the evening world news on all the networks for the last three days.”

  Alanna felt dizzy suddenly, gripping the edge of the desk with whitening fingers. “What?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Thornton ambled around the desk to his liquor cabinet, pouring her a small snifter of brandy. Handing it to her, he continued smoothly, “And because of your thorough investigation I want to be the first to congratulate you on your new post as my chief lobbying associate.” He raised his snifter, clinking the side of her glass in toast. “I believe a ten-thousand-dollar raise also goes with your new position.”

  Alanna’s hand trembled badly, the apricot brandy sloshing against the sides of the crystal snifter. “Oh, my God…”

  Thornton guided her to the rich, plush expanse of his sofa. “Certainly you deserve the position, Alanna. I’ve watched you for two years and have admired your stamina and loyalty to me and the public. And you’ve enabled me finally to bring Breckenridge to justice. I can’t think of a better way to reward you than make you my right-hand man…person in our lobbying efforts.” He leaned over, patting her shoulder and smiling confidentially. “Congratulations, my dear. Y
ou’ve given me the murderer of my son, and I’m gratefully indebted to you because of that. All that remains now is the enjoyment of watching him stripped of his falsely won honor and medals. You do know that the entire investigation is going to be picked up by all the major networks and broadcast after the eleven-thirty news each night? I’ve seen to that.” He turned away, setting the snifter down and rubbing his fleshy hands together. “And I owe it all to you,” he murmured.

  Her heart pounded like a thrashing, mortally wounded bird in her chest as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her throat was scratchy with tears. “This is a mistake. All a terrible mistake, Senator. Those crates weren’t from the San Dolega mission. I had photographs of them….”

  Thornton was regarding her silently from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Yes, I had prints made from the one roll of film you gave us,” he commented smoothly.

  Alanna froze mid-stride. “There were two rolls, not one.”

  “When you handed me that manila envelope, my dear, there were twenty-five pages of your report and one canister of film.”

  Alanna stared at Thornton, stunned. “No,” she cried. “No, there were two! I know, I put them there myself. That other roll had all the shots of the crates and their numbers. Those numbers didn’t match the numbers on the relief supplies flown into San Dolega. The policemen who were with me saw them. They can swear to you that the crates weren’t from San Dolega!”

  Thornton smiled patiently, reaching for a thick folder on his desk. “You’ll find in here notarized statements from those very policemen affirming that those crates were from San Dolega, my dear. Furthermore, the police commissioner was kind enough to send a letter testifying to his men’s unimpeachable character. He has also uncovered a bank account containing ten thousand dollars in Colonel Breckenridge’s name at the main bank in San Jose. It definitely links him with the stolen supplies. Listen, you go home, take tomorrow off, and go through the contents of this envelope. The hearing starts Monday, and I want you well rested and your thoughts in order when it begins.” He put his arm on her shoulder, escorting her to the door of his office. “After all, this is the first of many important steps in your new job, and I wouldn’t want you to be too tired to testify in our behalf. I’ll have Stephen drive you to your apartment.”

  * * *

  In a state of shock, Alanna walked woodenly up to her apartment. Several copies of the Washington Post lay randomly piled near her door, and she froze as she saw the banner headline on one of them: Marine Hero Investigated. Relief fraud. Shakily, she scooped up the newspapers and unlocked the door before going inside. Throwing them all on the couch, Alanna ran to her phone. She leafed through her address book with renewed urgency, looking for Matt’s number. She broke out in a cold sweat waiting for an answer from his home phone. It rang and rang. In despair, she finally hung up, biting her lower lip until she tasted blood in her mouth.

  Her mind whirled with renewed anguish. She closed her eyes, burying her face in her hands, and drew an unsteady breath. It was Thursday…. Her mind focused on the cabin up in Maine. What would Matt have done as soon as he found out about the investigation? Would he have flown north and stayed at the cabin? Alanna gripped the phone, and she desperately foraged her memory for John’s and Evelyn’s address. Contacting information, she finally got their number.

  Evelyn answered. “Hello?”

  Alanna gripped the phone tightly, her voice coming out in a tumult of anguished words. “Evelyn, this is Alanna. Please, for God’s sake, don’t hang up on me. I’ve got to find Matt. There’s been a terrible mistake—”

  “Well—I—”

  Alanna clenched her teeth. “Where is he, Evelyn? I’ve got to talk to him.”

  Silence lengthened on the phone line, and Alanna held her breath. “I didn’t know about this, I swear,” she rattled on. “I was in Seattle for nearly two weeks. When I landed at the airport only a few hours ago, I found out. Please help me, I don’t want to lose him, Evelyn. I love him.”

  Evelyn’s voice softened slightly. “He isn’t here, Alanna. I believe he’s at his home in McLean. At least, that’s where he was the last time John and I talked to him. What’s happened, Alanna? My God, we just can’t believe the horrendous stories that are being leaked out of Senator Thornton’s office. They’ve made Matt a scapegoat, and you’re supposed to be testifying against him next Monday.”

  Pain lacerated her heart, and she fought back the tears. “We both thought that Senator Thornton was going to let my report die, Evelyn. This is as much a shock to me as it is to all of you.” A ragged sigh escaped her lips. “Give me Matt’s home address, will you? I’ll drive out there and see him. Somehow, I’ve got to make him understand I didn’t do this to him. There’s something strange going on. Thornton has lost one of my film canisters—the one with the film that will clear Matt. Oh God, I hope I have the time….”

  “Alanna, I believe you,” Evelyn confided, her voice growing warm once again. “I told John you weren’t capable of doing something like that. I just instinctively knew it.”

  Alanna’s stomach knotted at the mention of instinct. It brought back searing memories of her and Matt walking along the jungle trail discussing logic and intuition. And right now, all her instincts were screaming at her to get to Matt as soon as possible. She scribbled down his address and thanked Evelyn. Hurriedly, she left the couch and ran to her bedroom, throwing off her two-piece wool suit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved blouse, and a light jacket, Alanna opted for the stairs instead of the elevator. As she ran to her car, rain slashed relentlessly at her face, the wind tugging at strands of her hair to lift it from beneath the collar of her jacket. Sliding into her Ford Mustang, she shakily opened a map of Virginia while the car warmed up.

  She wasn’t the adventurous sort, and trying to negotiate the intricate street system of D.C. made her nerves fairly scream with a new level of impatience. Finally, she was on the main interstate, darkness falling more rapidly than usual because of the torrential rainfall.

  It was near 9:00 p.m. when she finally found his home. It was a ranch-style house that sat on the outskirts of the city ensconced within a grove of pine, ash and elm trees. Her spirits were beginning to pick up as she drove slowly down the long asphalted driveway, moving past the split-rail fence. Her mouth grew dry when she realized that there was only one light on in the house. One car was parked in front of the double garage: a low-slung red sports car. Her palms grew damp, and her fingers became icy as she shut off the engine. She sat there gripping the steering wheel for a long moment.

  Forcing herself out of the car. Alanna walked slowly up the concrete path, oblivious to the rain which was soaking her lightweight jacket. Her throat ached with unrelenting tension as she moved up to the small porch and knocked on the heavy oak door. She waited, nervously clutching her handbag. Again she knocked, only this time louder. The door was jerked open.

  Alanna gasped, taking a step back, her eyes wide.

  “You,” Jim Cauley said, his voice barely above a snarling whisper. He glanced over his shoulder and then stepped outside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Alanna felt the rage emanating from Cauley and automatically stepped off the porch back into the rain. She blinked, the rain stinging her face. “Where’s Matt?” she demanded, her voice betraying her fear.

  Cauley stood there, his hands resting tensely on his hips as he glowered down at her. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

  The cold didn’t matter; she wasn’t aware she was trembling. “Jim, I’ve got to see him! There’s been a terrible mistake and I—”

  “He made the terrible mistake by falling in love with you,” he hissed. “And you led him right over the edge. You’re the kind of woman that survives real well on the Hill, you know that? I warned him about you, and he said no, that you were sincere and not a spy for Thornton. I knew better. I saw right through your little ploy. Are you enjoying your new status up there? I
t must make you feel real good to know you’ve destroyed one of the finest men in the Marine Corps.”

  His attack transformed her fear into galvanizing anger. No one had ever spoken to her with such hatred. Alanna took a step forward.

  “Look, Cauley, I don’t care how much you hate me. Matt loves me, and I love him. I don’t give a damn how much you dislike me. I don’t care if you think I was a spy. I’m here to see Matt, and I intend to do that one way or another.”

  He glared at her darkly, his blue eyes narrowed pinpoints of malevolence. “He’s sleeping,” he snapped.

  “Then wake him up. I’m not leaving,” she said with chattering teeth. She wrapped her wet arms across her chest.

  Cauley wavered for an instant, as if mentally reviewing his options. “Look, dammit, he’s passed out. I got here about an hour ago, and he was drunk as hell, trying to drink the pain away.” His voice lost its steely edge, and his shoulders slumped downward. “He’s dead to the world. Why don’t you let him have these few hours of peace, because when he wakes up he’ll go through the same hellish pain all over again.”

  A lump grew in her throat. Pain…oh, God, the anguish Matt must be feeling. “Over—over the indictment?” she ventured.

  Cauley snorted. “You’ve hurt him in the only way possible. I saw him go through this same kind of hell when Rachel died. Jesus, you’ve destroyed him emotionally by telling Thornton—”

  A strangled cry erupted from her. “I’ve said nothing to the senator! I love Matt, for God’s sake.”