by Gayle, A. B.
Aggie grinned. “Okay, but I not wait forever. Aggie is viking; she get what she want or else!”
Gideon laughed and took the coffees from her. “I’ll bear that in mind, Aggie, but remember I might have to set Ragnar onto you. He’s my viking.”
“Ooo, chance would be fine thing.” She handed the coffees over and leaned on the work surface. “Another thing before you go, Gid’. When are you going to find the owner of that pest outside?”
“Pest?”
“Yes, Pest. The scruffy doggy with the appealing grin, the one who haunts my steps whenever I go outside. I’ve been feeding him since the lads told me he belonged to the doctor, but he’s forever trying to get in, and you know I can’t have that. I run a tight ship here. I would tie him up, but he runs off whenever I come near. It’s as if the little devil knows.”
Another reason for getting Miles back here, Gideon thought. “I know where his owner is, Aggie, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, just make sure he’s fed and watered and let the lads take care of him. I’ll ask them to make sure he doesn’t get inside unless he’s safely in their billet.”
“Okay, will do, boss. Enjoy your coffees, guys. I see you later; I have clean-up to do.” She rolled down the shutter with a snap. Shortly after, they heard her singing as she clattered pots into the dishwasher.
“So,” Gideon returned to the table with the drinks and sat down opposite Lyle again. “You okay, apart from running low on supplies?”
“Beginning to wonder why we’re all here,” Lyle raised a quizzical eyebrow, “I mean, really?”
Gideon fixed Lyle with an unreadable look. “Truth? I guess you wouldn’t know whether I was lying or not anyway. Adam Breslaw contacted me and appraised me that you were all in… How should I say this? He thought you were in immediate danger of being associated with the death of a dangerous man and asked me to intercede with Eidolon and try to bring them on board. He knew they were looking to provide safe havens and witness protection and wanted… I really don’t want to call you all guinea pigs; that makes Eidolon look like they don’t know what they’re doing and that wouldn’t be true. They’re good at what they do, they’ve been in the business longer than you’d think, but I suppose you are guinea pigs to some degree. Let’s say Eidolon wanted to test this place out on someone, and you were around at the right time.”
“I was promised… they said they would provide my treatments. Now I’m not sure if they’ll see it through.” Lyle sipped his coffee and gazed into his cup, a worried frown creasing his brow. “I mean, as far as Sandra Pierce is concerned, we’re just an irritation, flies in the ointment. She’d be glad to see the back of us. She hardly welcomed us with open arms in the first place.”
“I wouldn’t worry about your agreement with Eidolon. I’ve never known them renege on a deal. They are pretty strict about maintaining their rep and the CEOs are quite hot on delivering their promises as a result. Their spin doctors would have a hard time selling this outfit to the investors if they weren’t.” That’s why I’m here, Gideon thought but didn’t say. To find out who isn’t delivering. “Eidolon have a lot invested in this project. If any dirt should be thrown and manage to stick, rather a lot of money could disappear rather quickly. And Pierce might be a first class bitch but even she has to be careful. Her perch isn’t as secure as she’d like to think. If she steps out of line…” Gideon left the statement hanging and shrugged, eloquently.
38: Building Bridges
Gideon Sterling, Miles Sutherland and Lucas
___________________________________________________
Evening February 12th Rapatoka Island
Gideon yawned, stretched, ran a hand through his hair and scratched his scalp. God, what a bugger’s muddle of a day, he thought, glancing at the clock to see it was knocking on for 20:30, and he still hadn’t finished the reports. After his coffee in the afternoon with Lyle, they had parted on amicable terms, although Gideon was far from relaxed around that man these days. Lyle had a subtle sexuality that enticed, and Gideon had to admit a burning curiosity to experience that for himself. He really didn’t care about the man’s transgendered state. Gideon took folks as he found them, always providing they did the same with him and had no designs on putting a ring on his finger. If they were offering then Gideon didn’t mind taking, as long as what was on offer was acceptable to both sides—no strings, no ties, no permanency.
He got to his feet and stretched again, wondering about finding something to eat. He didn’t fancy anything the restaurant might offer. He eyed the bottom drawer of his desk. Maybe the solution in there was a better alternative? He really needed to get Miles and Gil back to Mystery. He needed their expertise, their no-nonsense pragmatism, and Miles needed to take some responsibility for that damn dog of his. It was his decision to bring the mutt, the little bugger should be under his supervision instead of getting under Aggie’s feet.
Gideon had read Eidolon’s file on Miles Sutherland from cover to cover; seemed like they had one a foot thick on the doctor. The man and his late partner, Darren Peterson, had both worked for Medicin sans Frontiers, risking their necks on the front line on more than one occasion. Finally, after six years of service in the different trouble spots in Africa, their luck ran out, and they were kidnapped by a Somalian warlord. Gideon had paused at that. It hadn’t made very nice reading and some unwanted memories of his own had floated unhelpfully to the surface. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have such perfect recall. He knew Eidolon didn’t have nearly as much information on him, though. It would have made interesting reading if they had, but he had managed to suppress most of it. With a little help, of course, but there was no way in hell he was allowing Pierce to find out the truth.
In Miles’ case, Eidolon were able to get hold of the official and the non-official reports on the Somalian episode, both military and medical. Before being ransomed, the two doctors had been subjected to weeks of imprisonment and torture. Gideon knew what that was like. He strongly suspected that this environment wasn’t doing Sutherland any good at all. No doubt that accounted for the expression on Miles’ face when he arrived, not to mention his attitude when they brought Gillespie to him for treatment. Suddenly the doctor’s irritability and reticence began to add up.
An idea began to form. According to the psyche reports, none of the suggested treatment had done much good. Bleeding heart do-gooders were a pain in the ass, but there were a few who truly believed what they were doing was right and gave of themselves selflessly. They were usually the ones who suffered; the ones who went unappreciated by folks who were safe in their affluent homes; the ones who ended up dead or damaged in the line of duty, often inflicted by the same people they were trying to help. God knew there were enough aid workers who had given up most of their lives to a cause that eventually resulted in their deaths, tarred with the same brush as enemies of the state. Sutherland--and his partner--seemed to fit into that category.
Unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk, Gideon withdrew the bottle of whisky he had been saving. He held it to the light and admired the deep amber glow. It was a good one; it deserved a worthy companion to share it with. Gideon stepped outside into the warm night, following the path down to the shore. Moored to the jetty, the inflatable bobbed gently on the wind-ruffled waves. It took him only moments to untie her and jump in. He started the engine and guided the craft out into the dark waters of the lagoon; it was high time he continued his dialogue with Doc Sutherland.
@—}–—}——
Miles sat on the top wooden step of the small hospital building, enjoying the coolness of the night air. The soft whisper of wind rustling in the coconut palms was the only sound he could hear. Peace and quiet for a change. The residents of Rapatoka were a noisy crowd, laughing and joking as they went about their daily tasks, but now they were all in bed.
Gil had also pleaded tiredness. Not really a surprise. He was still recuperating, and it was taking a while. Watching the young man, his long limbs spread o
ut on the bed, clearly visible under the light covering was too much of a temptation for Miles. Since the blow job on the beach, Lucas always seemed to pop up like a bad penny whenever they were close, so all they’d been able to do since then was exchange a furtive kiss or the occasional grope. Mind you, that didn’t prevent the promises and teasing of what else they could get up to when they finally had a bed big enough for both of them and some privacy.
Lucas, his constant shadow, sat on one of the lower steps. Acting as a watch-dog to make sure I don’t leave, or does he just like having some company, Miles wondered. The young boy’s quiet presence brought back memories of the other companion who used to sit patiently at his feet, Roofie. A pang of guilt and regret shot through Miles. Hopefully, someone was looking after his mutt.
Apart from being a nuisance when Miles wanted to get up close and personal with Gil, he didn’t mind Lucas being around. He had wanted to read him the riot act for sneaking up and spying on them while they were making love, but Gil quietly pointed out that Rapatoka belonged to the Islanders, and the lad had every right to be there, not to mention he was at the age where curiosity would get the better of him. At least Gil didn’t seem to regret anything Miles had done or said. He was more concerned about exposing a boy of that age to the raunchy sex he planned to get up to.
Not that Lucas was a virgin or anything. Judging from Caroline’s earlier comments, the sixteen year old had already been sexually involved with one or more of the former residents of Mystery Island. But youthful curiosity or not, neither of them felt right about continuing his sex education.
Sleep would be a long way off while Miles was so frustrated. Perhaps he could have read a book? Caroline offered to lend him a couple, but as Rapatoka’s only generator was linked to the hospital, to conserve fuel, they rarely stayed up for long once the sun set. Over on Mystery Island, the lights shone all night. Did the people there have any clue about the difference between the two islands? One still trapped in the third world and the other boasting all the latest mod cons. It wasn’t bloody fair. He had tried to get his point across to the Ice Queen but failed to move her; she had skin thicker than a crocodile and a smile as false.
A new sound intruded into the quiet. At first Miles thought the buzz was a large mosquito, but then it became louder. A motor, an outboard motor. Lucas stirred and glanced up at him enquiringly. The young boy no longer pretended he couldn’t understand what Miles was saying, but he still didn’t speak to him in English.
“Stay here. Keep an eye on Caroline and Gil.” Both his patients had been asleep when he came outside.
“Tommi, Jerri.”
Lucas started to get up so he could fetch the huge identical twins who acted as the island’s main enforcers and bodyguards. Miles put a restraining hand on the young boy’s arm and shook his head. The man getting out of the boat didn’t seem to be armed. He might still be dangerous, but somehow Miles knew he didn’t pose a threat. Not tonight at least.
Gideon pulled the boat up onto the sand, hoping he didn’t have to keep an eye on the damn thing. After the previous show of force, the islanders might have been persuaded to keep their hands off it. He hoped so anyway. Despite Pierce’s lack of tact, Gideon wanted to try building bridges not create gulfs. He had witnessed Sutherland at work, admired the man’s single-minded determination to save Gillespie. Gideon well knew the man was good at his job. He was also a dedicated ‘bleeding heart’, he had taken up the Islanders’ cause and challenged Pierce on their welfare. Despite Gideon’s own ambivalence toward bleeding hearts, there was a pragmatism and an honesty about Sutherland that lifted him above the majority. He had stood up to the Bitch Queen as well, which made him okay in Gideon’s book.
Glancing around, Gideon decided to make for the dark bulk of the hospital building first. Before he could move, though, a figure detached itself from the shadows and walked toward him. The shape could only belong to one person. He tensed momentarily then mentally berated himself. He had to stop seeing hostiles behind every bush. This wasn’t Iraq.
“What’s wrong?” Miles eyed Gideon warily. Although they’d spent hours in the cockpit together during the seaplane flight, and then Gideon had donated his blood to Gil to help the man get through the surgery, Miles really didn’t know much about the man. Only that he worked for Eidolon and seemed to think guns were the solution to everything.
“I come in peace, oh Great White Chief...” Gideon intoned. He chuckled and held out the bottle. “I bring fire-water... Actually,” he dropped the humorous front “I was looking for a chat, and someone to share a drink with?”
Miles raised his eyebrows. The man had at least four bodyguards at his beck and call, plus who knows how many other people on the island by now. The seaplane had done plenty more trips since their arrival. “What? You didn’t want to share it with Ms Pierce?”
Gideon had to laugh at that. “Ms Eidolon might think she’s some kind of...” he paused. What the hell does she think she is? He sighed. “Not sure what she thinks she is really, but whatever it is, she’s the last person I would want to share this with.”
“I can relate to that. A first class bitch if ever I saw one. What have you brought with you then? Some Johnny Walker Gold Label I hope?”
“How does twenty-five year old single malt sound, old man?”
The ‘old man’ jibe stung for a second until Miles suddenly remembered the guy was a Brit. Most of the time Gideon’s accent seemed non-existent, but he’d lapsed into his more natural speaking voice when he’d made that remark. Miles could just picture him in a pub in Camden Town, downing a few pints of Guinness before heading off to the soccer. “Anything would be better than Lipton and out-of-date instant coffee. Did you bring anything to drink it out of, or should I fetch some medicine glasses?”
“Alas, the butler didn’t pack the cut crystal. Wouldn’t have survived the journey.” Shit, if they went up to the hospital, he’d lose his chance to speak to the Doc alone. “We can always share.” Gideon opened the bottle and held it toward Miles. It wasn’t the right way to drink the good stuff, but it would have to do.
The rounded sides of the inflatable made a comfortable perch as they sat side by side and passed the bottle back and forth in silence for a few minutes.
“Ah, that was worth waiting for.” Gideon let the liquid burn a trail to his stomach, allowing him some time to consider the man beside him.
“Somehow, I don’t get the feeling you came all this way just to share your whisky with me, excellent though it may be.” Miles reluctantly passed the bottle back and wiped his lips. Since giving up the grog in an effort to lose weight he’d almost forgotten how good it tasted. “What’s on your mind?”
“First, how’s Gillespie doing? We’ve not been in touch since.”
“He’s doing fine.... “ Miles’ eyes lost focus for a moment, and Gideon saw what could be a slight flush rising to the doctor’s cheeks, a slight darkening of his flesh in the moonlight, but Miles shook himself and finally gave his report. “I’m satisfied with his progress. He’s back on his feet anyway.”
“Good, that’s very good. Look, there was another reason I came here...” Gideon took the bottle back again and sipped it. “I have something I want to...discuss with you. We didn’t get much chance to talk when you were dealing with Gillespie. I read your file after...”
Miles stiffened; the warm whisky in his stomach immediately turning into molten lava. Shit, was his ulcer flaring up again? “And...” He couldn’t prevent the anger from seeping into that single drawn out word. Pierce had made a crack back in Haven Falls about his failure in Somalia. Yes, he’d failed. Failed to be strong enough for Darren’s sake. Was this man going to rub his nose in it yet again?
“My apologies if it makes you uncomfortable.” Gideon noted the tense line of Miles’ jaw, the rigidity in his body, the wariness in the dark eyes. That had hit a nerve. More than one, to go by the reaction. “You should know, I’ve read everything Eidolon has on all of you.”
Miles snorted. “What they have on me will hardly be a secret. The press didn’t get all the details, but from the looks of things Eidolon seems to be able to prise their tentacles into every hidden crevice.” He refused the bottle the next time Gideon offered it to him. His liver had already had enough, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach any more reminders of Eidolon or any of its employees. He pushed down on the edge of the boat and started to stand.
“Miles, I know you have no reason to trust me, but don’t go. I’m not here at Eidolon’s behest. I’m here because...” Gideon sighed. “I’ve been in your position. I understand...”
“How can you understand?” In the silence, Miles’ response, unnaturally loud in the quiet, sounded more like a shout. He walked a few steps along the sand and stared across the water at Mystery Island, barely able to keep a check on the anger that made him want to lash out sometimes. “Have you ever caused the death of the man you love?” He glanced at Gideon. “Or the woman?”
“If I said it wasn’t your fault, you’d not believe me. Would you?”
“No. I’ve been told that many times lately, but nothing alters the facts. If I’d been stronger, he’d be alive today. Simple really.”
“Miles...” Gideon paused, flexed his shoulders and winced. “Damn...My shoulder has been playing up...” He chuckled. “Think I might need a doctor. Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to help me though.”
“Bullshit.” The implication that he might withhold treatment because of who Gideon worked for actually made Miles madder than any implication he’d made earlier... the half-joking jibe about age and his failures. “After a lifetime dealing with casualties from both sides of the battlefield, you think I’d refuse treating your injuries if you needed help? What’s wrong?”
