"Don't worry. Leave your name and address and I'll get it back to you after I see him."
Cindy turned to Jenny. "Promise you'll be careful."
"You say it like there might be trouble."
"I just don't want you getting caught using my nametag."
Jenny glanced at her for a moment. "I never thought about the trouble I could cause you."
"It wouldn't be the first time, but I've kept my nose clean in recent years," Cindy replied. She was getting nervous, and the more she stood talking to Jenny the more anxious she was about the whole situation.
"What kind of trouble were you in?"
"Mostly antiwar demonstrations," Cindy replied finally. She walked over to the window and glanced at the park. "It was down there."
"I remember the demonstrations," Jenny said.
A cold chill crept up Jenny's spine. It was the month after John had left. The campus was under siege with protestors against the war. Jenny found herself torn with being against the war and being ripped apart by guilt. Although she did not actually participate in the protest, the desire to do so had been there.
"Three arrests don't look good on a job application, if you know what I mean. Now, I've got a meticulous record at the hospital and I don't want to jeopardize my job."
"I'll be careful."
"He seems so lonely," Cindy said and then stopped when she saw the expression on Jenny's face.
Jenny's heart raced, thinking about John. It had been five and a half years since the two men from the Army stood in her office and told her he was missing in action. And now she was faced with the possibility that he was indeed alive. That maybe he’d chosen not to come back to her. Jenny's eyes glassed over.
Cindy walked away from the window and was about to leave, but before she opened the door, she turned to Jenny. She had to know. Up until then Cindy assumed Jenny was a long-lost sister. But there was something in Jenny's mannerisms that told her there was a lot more to it.
"What's your relationship to John Hamilton?" Cindy asked finally.
"He's my husband."
Cindy just looked at Jenny. All she could muster up to say was, "I'm sorry."
"No need to be."
Cindy did not say more, she found it impossible to say anything to the woman who was facing the worst pain of her life. She walked out of the office while Jenny went back to her desk. Sitting down, she stared at the uniform on the coat rack.
As the door opened, Jenny quickly wiped away the tears and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing Steve. He looked at the uniform and then turned to Jenny.
"You change careers?"
"No, a friend is letting me borrow it for the day."
"Why would you need a uniform? It's not even close to Halloween?"
Jenny picked up the note, and then handed it to Steve. She watched the expression on his face. Steve set the note down. He looked up to see the pain in Jenny's eyes.
"You're not seriously thinking of going, are you?" he asked.
"Why not?"
"This could be a prank."
"Then I'll find out, won't I?"
"Who was the girl?"
"She works at the hospital. John is a patient they brought in yesterday."
"Do you trust her?"
"I have to. She was just doing a favor for a patient. She doesn't even know John, or me for that matter."
"Then why bother?"
"Like I said, she was doing the man a favor."
Steve glanced at Jenny. "Who in their right mind does favors in this city anymore?"
"She's sincere. What would she possibly have to gain by coming here?"
"Why the uniform then?"
"He's in protective custody because of some mess yesterday. She didn't think I could get in to see him otherwise."
"And you, like a fool, are going to waltz into that hospital room pretending to be a nurse." Steve shook his head before turning back to Jenny. "You could get in serious trouble."
"I want answers. He is claiming to be John. If he is, I want to know why he didn't come back."
Steve thought for a moment. He did not want to say what was really on his mind. He inched his way over to the uniform.
Jenny feared for a moment that he would take it so she could not use it. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
Steve turned, "I have a friend who works at Social Security. Why don't I give him John's number, I'll see if he's filed a tax return in recent years?"
"Why do that?"
"If he has, then maybe the man is John. But if he hasn't, you know John didn't return."
"Can you do that?" Jenny asked.
"Sure, he won't be able to tell me anything more than a simple yes or no."
Jenny got up from her desk; she paced the room before finally turning to Steve. "I can't believe he returned and didn't come back to me."
"I can't either. That's why I don't think it wise for you to meet this man."
"He's in protective custody. I should be safe."
Steve shook his head. "I still don't like it."
Jenny looked at Steve with pleading eyes. "Just have your friend check the information for me."
"I wish you'd rethink this."
Jenny ignored his request. "Could I have the afternoon off?"
Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, you have the time coming."
Jenny stared at Steve. She wanted desperately for him to understand. "I have to do this. If it is John, he has some explaining to do."
"And if it isn't? Then what?" Steve asked.
"I'll face that when I get there." Jenny replied as she forced a smile. "How long will it take your friend to get the information?"
"Give me an hour." Steve walked over to the door. Before leaving, he turned to Jenny. "I could come with you."
Jenny cut him off quickly. "This is between the two of us."
As the door shut, Jenny looked down at the note again. She was certain the writing was not John's, but that still did not answer the nagging question. Who was it in that hospital bed, and why did he want to see her?
Jenny tried busying herself with work, but it was impossible to concentrate on the figures, all she had on her mind was the man across town. The minutes ticked away slowly. Steve returned about eleven, and when he walked into the office the look on his face told her the news was not good.
"What is it?" she asked.
Steve avoided looking at Jenny as he walked over to his desk. He took a deep breath and turned to her. He could not lie. She had to know the truth.
"John's filed tax returns for the last four years."
"That can't be," Jenny whispered. She had herself convinced the man was not John, but now with what Steve said. Jenny was faced with the fact that John did not love her after all.
"Maybe you shouldn't see him today."
"I have to," Jenny snapped. Five and a half years had been spent waiting in limbo. She would not let another day pass without answers.
"Benjamin could go with you."
"Don't call him. He has enough on his mind with the show coming up. Besides, this is between John and me," Jenny said firmly. She would get this matter cleared up before getting anyone else involved.
"Jenny, I'm sorry," Steve said sincerely.
A tear rolled down Jenny's cheek. Had she indeed idealized John after all? The room suddenly got cold and she found it difficult to breathe. Steve walked over to her desk; he knelt down while taking her in his arms. He let her cry until there were no more tears left to shed.
CHAPTER 8
The highly polished marble floor glistened in the afternoon sun as people scurried about. Some were visiting, some on business, some in street clothes, while others were in sterile white cotton. It was a place of never-ending activity in a city that never dared to sleep. The towering ceilings amplified the clatter of footsteps, sending echoes through the long narrow lobby entrance.
Gideon was crammed into the small telephone cubicle just inside the entrance. He half listened
to the men at the other end in Langley, while trying to take notes on pertinent information they discussed. The hollow distortion of the phone in the dome room at the other end made what was being said sound as if they were huddled in a cave. Colby used this phone for precautions on occasions such as this. It was hard to make out what was being said. Gideon found himself reading the inscriptions on the wall. "For a good time, call Kathy. Best action in town, give Linda a call." Gideon reached up, started writing, "For a good time, call Beth." He jotted down her number, but already had second thoughts by the time he got to the last two digits. Then he quickly wrote twenty-two, not sixty-two. He smiled to himself, thinking about the calls it could generate.
"Gideon, are you there?" Colby asked.
"What," Gideon said. He suddenly realized he had not been listening to what was being said. "What is it?"
"I thought we lost you there for a moment."
"No, I was just writing something down." Gideon mumbled.
"We have to get this taken care of, and soon." It was one of the men furthest from the phone who said those words and he was hardly audible.
"The president wants answers. He's been breathing down my neck ever since yesterday morning," Colby said sharply.
"What are we going to do if Delaney doesn't play ball?" it was the raspy voice of Elliott Sinclair, the deputy director.
Up to that point Gideon had not realized Elliott was in the room, but then why not? Colby was grooming Elliott for the director's position if and when he retired in a few years. Gideon respected Elliott. Although ambitious in his quest for the director's job, he was unlike Phil March, the executive director, who was unscrupulous in his tactics to get the job done.
"If he doesn't want to play ball, eliminate him," the man in the background said.
It hit Gideon who the voice belonged to. It had to be none other than Phil March. Gideon did not know him personally, but the few times they did meet, Gideon had a taste of his mean tenacity for getting the job done at all costs. It made Gideon glad they were on the same side.
"We'll have no talk of that," Colby quickly cut in.
Even though they were in the dome room, Colby was always careful about such talk. It had been rumored for years that the Agency had men who specialized in wet affairs, but it was something that was never discussed openly, especially over unsecured phone lines.
"He'll talk in time, I'm sure," Gideon quickly added.
"We don't have time," Colby responded sharply.
"We have men available to handle this," Phil March cut in.
"Colby," Gideon said, wanting to make sure he had Colby's attention. "Promise me no one will be called in?" Gideon then waited for the answer he wanted, but when he got none, quickly asked again. "Promise me!"
Finally Colby was back on the line. "It has already been twenty-four hours since the attack on Wayne."
"I don't think we should wait any longer." Phil said, nonchalantly as if discussing a dinner engagement.
"Gideon, do you think he knows where the meeting is taking place?" Colby asked.
"I'm sure he does, but right now he's not happy. He thinks there's a leak with us. That's why he almost got killed.
"Why would we want the meeting stopped?"
"He doesn't think we want world peace anymore than his side," Gideon said. It was a sad fact, but true nonetheless.
"The man doesn't know anything." Phil snapped. "We should eliminate him now, while we still have time."
Colby cut in. "Gideon, did you talk to Wayne?"
"Yeah, he's no help."
"Doesn't he realize his life is in danger?"
"If he does, he doesn't care. I don't think he trusts us with what he has."
"Did you hit him with the information about Red Eagle?" Phil March asked.
Gideon flipped over his notes quickly. "What are you talking about?"
It was Colby who cut in. "Phil came up with the code name for Sadat this morning. The directive will go out to the field later this week."
Gideon laughed: he just loved double talk. But now was not the time to express his disdain for the use of code words no one else understood. Finally Gideon answered. "Wayne's been working with Carter, I'm sure of that. But he won’t talk or tell us what we want." Gideon tapped his pen on the little shelf in the booth, and then looked longingly at the writing on the wall in front of him. What he would not do for a good time with Kathy right now!
Colby quickly picked up the conversation. "Well unless we have more concrete evidence than what we have now, we are a no-go on this. Everyone in agreement?" Colby asked.
Gideon listened as everyone agreed. Up until then, he had been too absorbed in the conversation to notice anything around him, but suddenly he glanced up in time to see a nurse coming through the swinging front doors. A chill went through him, starting at his cheekbone and working its way slowly down his body to the tips of his toes.
The dark hair cropped at the neck bounced with every step she took; her eyes darted around the lobby, but saw nothing. It was a face that was embedded in his mind and all he could do was watch her. He looked at the nametag, focusing on the name, finally a name behind the picture he carried. There was no time to get off the phone. The men were still talking, but Gideon was no longer interested in anything they were saying, it was all politics as far as he was concerned.
Gideon glanced at his watch. It was one fifteen; there was not a shift change yet and that troubled him. He had been at the hospital for two days and had not seen this woman before. Gideon was mesmerized as she strolled within ten feet of him, unaware he was watching her. All he could do was stay there until the men at the other end of the line were done playing their good spy, bad spy games.
He watched the young woman nervously check her purse as she waited for the elevator. She looked around, but in reality was too nervous to notice anything around her. Once the door for the elevator opened, she quickly got into the small enclosure. Gideon watched her turn and glance in his direction, but Gideon was sure she had not noticed him.
Gideon wanted to get up and follow, but knew he could not leave the phone. The call would not be over until Colby said it was. Gideon watched the indicator light above the elevator door. When it stopped at the seventh floor his heart raced. This was going to be easier than he thought.
"Gideon, you get back to Delaney and see if you can get him to talk. Tell him we will only give him twelve more hours and then we call off the deal."
"Twelve hours isn't going to do it, I need more time," Gideon argued, forgetting all about the woman for an instant. He was drawn back into the heat of the conversation.
Gideon heard Phil and Elliott arguing in the background. He glanced at his watch and then looked at the elevator door.
* * *
When the elevator door closed, Jenny took a deep breath. Although the lobby was cold from the air conditioning, she felt hot, her nerves frayed from the strain. No one took notice of her walking through the lobby, or so she thought. Actually she did not know what to expect, other than the guards posted on the seventh floor. Jenny leaned her head on the wall. This was the easy part, what came next would be the true test of whether she could pull it off. She watched the indicator light and with every floor that passed, her heart sank further. If it were not for the elevator full of people standing between her and the door, she might have changed her mind altogether. But it was already too late to press the button for the lobby.
The elevator finally stopped at the seventh floor. As the last person boarded, Jenny quickly got off before the door slid shut. She stood outside the elevator, too scared to move. No one took notice, not even the orderly who passed by with an empty gurney. She was just another fixture in a complex organization. Jenny walked down the hall, following Cindy's instructions closely. She looked down the corridor at the guard posted outside a door. Jenny took a deep breath; she had gone over in her mind a dozen times what she was going to do. But now, her stomach muscles were tied up in knots. When the guard tur
ned and looked her way, she quickly walked over to the nurse’s station.
Nurses were all scurrying about with jobs to do. Maxine, the head nurse Cindy warned her about, was busy with a candy striper. Jenny watched Maxine hovering over the poor girl, bellowing orders. If she could just get by Maxine the rest would be easy. Jenny was thankful for Maxine's distraction. The other nurses were busy writing notations in charts and sorting pills. Jenny's only fear was that someone might ask her to perform a task she was incapable of doing.
Slowly Jenny edged toward the rows of charts on the rack. She reached over and pulled out the chart that read John Hamilton. As she picked it up she stared at the name, not comprehending anything else she read. Before leaving the nurse’s station Jenny picked up the stethoscope laying on the desk, and then stepped back and edged her way down the long hall where the sentinel was stationed. With every step she took, she fought the urge to turn and run.
"I thought you checked him already?" Rico said.
"Student nurse forgot to mark it down, I have to recheck." Jenny replied, then shrugged her shoulders as if a little perturbed at the inconvenience. "You know how these young kids are?"
"Yeah, I guess." Rico replied, and then added before Jenny disappeared into the room. "Make it quick, they want to talk to him in a little while."
"It won't take long," Jenny said.
When the door shut behind her, the darkness overpowered her. The shades were pulled. The only light was from the monitor above the bed. The smell of disinfectant hung heavy while the beeps from the monitor hooked up to the man on the bed echoed almost as loud as her heart. Jenny focused, but could not get a good look at him. In the dimly lit room, she found herself mesmerized by the tubes and probes that hooked the man up to the monitors. The faint beeps that came from the monitor told her the man was still alive. She slowly moved closer to the bed. Even in the darkness, she could tell it was not John. The chalky white complexion on the face that lay on the pillow had hollow eyes and cheeks far too thin for a healthy man. The age was about the same as John, but that was all. He was an imposter, and as much as she wanted it to be John, she was relieved it was not.
Jenny's heart raced and her palms were sweating. She grabbed onto the bed rail for support and just stared. Then she realized the hollow breathing sound was coming from the hole in his neck.
The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller Page 8
