Father And Child

by Rebecca York

  Zeke’s response was a low curse. “You’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.”

  She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. Only so you’ll realize that we have to see this through together.”

  His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I should have pulped Sebastian.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. My shooting him was bad enough.”

  His lips quirked. “We make a fine pair of undercover operatives.”

  “Actually, we do.”

  “When you came downstairs with the gun, how did you know I needed help?” he suddenly asked.

  “After my father got sick, I installed an intercom. I turned it on before I took my shower.”

  “Oh.” There was a wealth of implication in the syllable.

  He must know she’d heard the cryptic exchange about his father, but he didn’t offer any information. Well, she hadn’t expected him to tell her everything, had she? She’d known all along that he kept his own counsel. If she wanted him to confide in her, she had to bolster his sense of trust. “I turned the intercom monitor off when I went back upstairs,” she murmured.

  “I appreciate that,” he said but to her disappointment didn’t volunteer anything else.

  A few minutes later, they reached the vicinity of his home. He pulled to the curb a block and a half away, instead of driving the rest of the distance. “Your job is to guard the car,” he announced as he reached for the door handle.

  “The car doesn’t need guarding,” she muttered.

  “I don’t want you near my place. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, drive to the nearest police station and tell them everything that’s happened.”

  “But after Sebastian cut you, you said you couldn’t call the police,” she answered in surprise. “And we left my house just now before they could get there and ask us any questions.”

  “That’s right, but if something happens to me, you don’t have any alternative. You’ll have to explain what’s going on.” Her face must have registered her alarm, because he went on quickly. “But nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be right back.”

  There’s not much I can tell them, beyond the fact that Sebastian keeps attacking us. Give me some more dribs and drabs of information. Like what does this have to do with your father, and where will I find Ariadne? She wanted to shout a barrage of questions at him. But she suspected he didn’t have all the answers. Moreover, reaction to questions would divert his attention from making sure he got in and out of the house safely. So she contented herself with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

  Zeke left the keys in the ignition. After climbing out of the car he reached back inside, fished a baseball cap out of the back seat and plopped it onto Elizabeth’s head. It was several sizes too big and slid down over her forehead. “Good,” he approved. “And slouch in your seat.”

  She complied, giving him as much of a smile as she could muster. When he turned his back and started rapidly down the block, she checked her watch, then closed her eyes. They snapped open immediately, because she wanted to watch him as long as she could. It was then that a chilling realization hit her. Every time she’d let him out of her sight, something bad had happened. She reached for the door handle, ready to bolt after him. At the last second, she stopped herself. He was right. She had to stay out of danger in case he needed a witness. But he wouldn’t. Not this time, she told herself. This time everything was going to be okay.

  Sitting up a little straighter, she looked around. The morning was overcast, and a light fog rose from the pavement. Under the circumstances, she counted that a good omen. At least the mist gave Zeke a little bit of obscurity.

  Still, when he disappeared around the corner, she felt utterly alone. She managed to keep from looking at her watch for five whole minutes. After that she found she was checking it every minute and a half. She might as well watch the second hand go around, she thought with a self-accusing little snort.

  Seventeen minutes…Eighteen…Time was almost up. She felt her heart thumping inside her chest. Only a minute to go. Sitting forward, she strained her eyes for the first sight of him as he turned the corner.

  Twenty minutes.

  He didn’t appear. Lord, had she been right the first time? Had someone been waiting for him to pick up the package? Silently she began to pray for his safe return. The prayer kept her from railing at him for being so reckless.

  Her fingers clutched the door handle as she tried to keep from leaping out of the car and charging up the block. But that was a bad idea, she told herself. What if he was coming back a different way? Or what if somebody hiding in the house had taken him captive? They’d get her, too.

  She was almost ready to slide into the driver’s seat, when he came trotting down the sidewalk.

  Her eyes traveled eagerly over his tall frame as he came toward her. She’d expected to see a package in his hands, but they were empty. Before he could see what kind of state she was in, she wiped her sweaty palms on her slacks and tried to bring her breathing under control.

  “Zeke! What happened?” she demanded. So much for appearing cool, she thought as her voice rose on a frantic note. He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat like a man who had come back from a long journey, not a trip down the block.

  His expression was a mixture of caution and exasperation. “I’m sorry. A neighbor came outside. He wanted to commiserate about the broken window, and I couldn’t get away without looking like something strange was going on.”

  “The window,” Elizabeth repeated. With everything else that had transpired, she’d forgotten all about that. “My God, your whole living room must be a mess.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I should call the insurance company before we leave.” The way he said it made her think that he was stalling.

  “What about the package from Irena?” she asked quietly.

  His face softened, took on a look she’d never seen before. “She sent me pictures,” he said in a low voice. “Of Ariadne. And her mother.”

  He didn’t move, yet Elizabeth could sense an almost charged intensity in the air around him. She hesitated, not wishing to intrude. But she wanted to see his daughter—and get him talking about her. That might come naturally, if they looked at the picture together. Sophia was a different matter. Elizabeth was curious about the mother of his child. More than curious, she silently admitted, though she dreaded what she might find out.

  “Can I look at them?” she asked in a halting voice.

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a folded brown envelope. For several seconds he held it loosely between his two hands, like something of great value that might be damaged by exposure to the light. Then gingerly he removed three photographs, being careful not to smudge the image on the top one as he handed them across the console.

  Elizabeth held them in her palm. The first was of a stunning young woman, slim and lithe. Wild, dark hair framed her narrow face. She smiled at the camera in a way that made her look like she had just rendezvoused with her lover.

  “Sophia,” Elizabeth breathed.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s very…attractive,” Elizabeth murmured, unable to suppress a stab of jealousy. She might have said “breathtakingly beautiful,” if the words hadn’t stuck in her throat.

  “She was,” Zeke corrected.

  Elizabeth felt a wave of relief followed immediately by guilt. Never in her life had she been glad that someone was dead, and the admission shocked her. Yet she could see from the photograph that she paled in comparison to this woman who had borne Zeke’s child. What did he feel for Sophia now? Elizabeth wanted more than anything to know, but she was unable to ask the question for fear that the answer would be too hard to bear. Instead she shuffled the picture to the back of the pile.

  Underneath was the photo of a small girl, about four or five, sitting at the foot of a gnarled tree with feathery leaves. Her features were delicate like her mother’s, but
her face was more rounded and her dark hair was cut straight across her forehead. Her huge dark eyes stared solemnly at the camera. Elizabeth drew in a little breath as she absorbed the total effect. Then she switched to the third photo. This time the girl was standing with her knees locked and her arms straight at her sides. She looked small and spindly, yet somehow defiant.

  “Your daughter’s beautiful,” she said. “Like her mother.”

  When Zeke didn’t comment, she continued, “You’ve never seen her before?”

  “No. I told myself it was none of my business, that she was better off if I stayed the hell out of her life.” He swallowed hard. “Now…she looks sad.”

  Elizabeth studied the picture, striving for some other interpretation. “Maybe not. Maybe she’s being thoughtful.” Her free hand fluttered in the air. “Or…or the picture could have been taken on a bad day.”

  “Stop making excuses,” Zeke snapped. “She’s undernourished. And I get the feeling she hasn’t had a very happy life. I should have come back and claimed her,” he concluded.

  “You said that was impossible,” she reminded him.

  His voice shook. “I used to think it would have been better if she’d never been born. Now I realize that was just a cop-out. I should have tried to make sure she had a decent break.”

  Elizabeth slid him a sidewise glance. His eyes were misty, and it was obvious the pictures had affected him powerfully. Up until now, his daughter had been an abstraction. The photographs had given him a brief but telling glimpse into her life. Coupled with that was the shock of seeing Sophia, the mother of his child. He hadn’t had any contact with her in years, and he’d said he’d tried to forget about her. But he must have started remembering their liaison as soon as he’d learned about the little girl, and the vibrantly beautiful photograph had reinforced the memories. The speculations tore at Elizabeth.

  She sat quietly in her seat as Zeke started the car engine with a decisive twist of the ignition key, and they lurched away from the curb. “Ariadne needs me,” he said in a low voice.

  She found her voice. No matter what she was feeling, she had to help Zeke understand that he hadn’t already failed. “And now that you know what’s happened, you’re going to be there for her,” she reassured him.

  “If it’s not already too late.”

  Chapter Six

  Zeke drove down York Road, then onto the Beltway, his face tight and closed.

  “Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked.

  He lifted his hand from the wheel with an exasperated gesture. “I wish to hell I knew. Before Sebastian showed up I was thinking we could take a commercial airliner to Greece and a charter flight to Mythos. Now I’ve got to make other arrangements—figure out a way to slip onto the island and get to Ariadne without Aristotle finding out I’ve entered the country.”

  “Zeke, I know you want to keep this confidential, but we need help.”

  He sighed. “I hate to ask a favor of the CIA. But maybe they’ll figure they owe me one…”

  She ran her fingers along the edge of the leather seat, wondering how to phrase her next remark. “I have another suggestion. We were talking about Thorn and Cassie Devereaux.”

  “Um-hum.”

  “Remember my friends down at Light Street got together to help Thorn when he was in trouble? I’m sure they could do the same thing for us.”

  Zeke’s eyes didn’t leave the road, but Elizabeth saw from the change in his expression that he was seriously considering the suggestion. “I have a lot of respect for the Light Street irregulars,” he said.

  “Jason’s a security expert,” Elizabeth reminded him. “So is Cam. Jed is an ex-spy. Steve has his own air transport company. Jo and Mike are PI’s,” she ticked off some of the qualifications of her friends. “Collectively, they’ve had a lot of experience dealing with crises. They can tap into government intelligence information, and we won’t have to worry about anybody leaking our plans.”

  Zeke swung his head toward her. “Jason told me to call him if I ever needed a favor.” He grimaced. “But this is a pretty damn big favor.”

  “You could have blown the whole operation with Thorn. You didn’t. And I think they consider they owe you for that. So what do you have to lose by asking?” she pressed.

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Do you want me to call?” she asked, gesturing toward the phone on the console. “I’ve got the number in my address book.”

  Zeke shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll do it. And not from a cell phone where the conversation can be monitored.”

  He exited the Beltway and found a fast-food restaurant with an outside phone that faced a quiet side street.

  “But first,” he said, pulling into the drive-through line.

  “I promised you breakfast. I’m sorry you missed my French toast. What about a biscuit and some eggs?”

  She dredged up a grin. If he was thinking about food, he must be feeling better. “A biscuit and coffee sound good,” she allowed, wondering if she could choke anything down.

  He gave the order to the speaker, along with a breakfast ham sandwich and coffee for himself. When her stomach rumbled, he changed her order to the same as his.

  The need to fuel the body was a powerful force, she thought, as she sat with him in the car working her way through the sandwich and coffee. Neither of them tried to carry on a conversation while they ate. Long before she was finished, Zeke wadded up his sandwich wrapper and took his coffee to the pay phone.

  THE OLD MAN WADDED UP the fax transmission from Baltimore. So much for the wonders of modern technology. The world had shrunk considerably while he was locked away in prison, but remote control devices like the fax were only tools. You still needed a physical presence to give you power over people. People like Sebastian Demos, he thought with an angry growl. He’d paid the son of a shepherd well and sent him to America to keep an eye on Zeke Chambers. It seemed he had his own agenda.

  Out in the hall he heard soft feminine steps approaching.

  “Cyril? Are you all right, Cyril?”

  Quickly he hid the transmission under a pile of papers.

  The footsteps stopped, and he looked up to see the woman standing in the doorway, studying his face.

  “I told you not to disturb me while I’m in my office,” he said curtly.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her fingers plucking at the coarse black fabric of her skirt. She didn’t look him directly in the eye now. She was well trained. Of the old school. A woman who recognized that men were the ones who made the big decisions.

  “You should be resting in the heat of the day,” he said.

  “I was on my way to my room. But I heard your voice. You sounded upset.”

  “It’s nothing. A business deal that I thought was running smoothly. It appears to need my personal attention.”

  She hesitated several seconds before moving away from the door. Was she going to turn into a problem, too, he wondered. It would be a shame for their relationship to end so abruptly—the way his relationship with Sebastian was about to end.

  As ZEKE RETURNED from the phone, Elizabeth anxiously studied him for clues about how the conversation had gone. She was glad to see his step was lighter and his features were more relaxed.

  “Good news?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, glancing down at a sheet of paper on which he’d written directions. “As it turns out, Jason and Thorn are testing some new equipment up at Whispering Pines, the Randolph Electronics secure facility near Camp David.”

  “Oh, right. In the Catoctin Mountains. I used to go camping in the state park with my Girl Scout troop. Sometimes my mother was a chaperone, even though she hated sleeping in a tent. But we didn’t do it this late in the season…” Her voice trailed off when she realized that nerves were making her prattle on about things that would be of no interest to Zeke.

  “Whispering Pines has the standard Randolph Electronics communications equipment,” he said as he starte
d the engine. “While we’re driving up, Jason is going to check out some of the information I need on Mythos.”

  “Good.”

  “They may be able to get specific information on the Pappas family,” he added. “Sophia’s husband’s family.”

  “Um-hum.”

  As they headed north, Zeke fell silent. Casting him a sidewise glance, Elizabeth decided he looked like there was something eating at him. However, she had also discovered that it was a mistake to push him.

  She kept from asking questions by turning toward the window and watching the urban sprawl slowly give way to countryside. She hadn’t been up here in years, and it made her a little sad to see how far the new housing developments had stretched from the city. In the distance she could see a line of hazy blue mountains. Soon the relatively flat landscape turned to rolling hills.

  From time to time Elizabeth stole a look at Zeke. His expression was brooding. He waited almost half an hour before clearing his throat. What he said was so out of context that she blinked. “You-and your Girl Scout troop went camping up here.”

  Why was that—of all things—on his mind? “Yes.”

  “And, uh, your mother went along, even though she hated sleeping in a tent.”

  She nodded.

  “So she was like a regular mother—even if you weren’t a baby when you came to live with the Egans.”

  So that was it! All at once, she understood the logical flow of his thinking. “She was a regular mother,” Elizabeth said thickly. “Donna and Sam Egan were the best things that ever happened to me.”

  “How old were you when they adopted you?”

  “Ten.”

  “But you formed a bond with them,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yes. I did.” She almost never talked about her early life, even with her closest friends, but she realized what Zeke’s questions represented. She’d made him start contemplating life with Ariadne after this rescue mission, and he was trying to figure out if he had a chance to be a real father to his child after being totally unknown to her for so long. She wanted to reassure him, but she had to tread lightly. If she mentioned Ariadne, he might accuse her of pushing him into something. At the same time, she had to paint a realistic picture. If Ariadne had been badly traumatized, getting her to trust a stranger wouldn’t be easy. So, hesitantly, she began to talk about herself. “My birth mother kept me until I was three. She and my father were never married. I assume he had some exotic genes in his background. Maybe Native American.”