The Paths of Destiny
Moments of Truth

September 15, 2001:

I was sitting at my desk in what I’d mentally nicknamed “the squad room”. True, I got back my old rank as a Lieutenant Colonel, but nothing had been done about changing my seat assignment yet.

Four eventful days had passed since the planes had crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center.

The Senior Director of the SPJ had died — apparently by his own hand. The SPJ acquired a new Senior Director who, on her first day, had fallen prey to one of the traps meant for her predecessor.

In addition, a woman I hadn’t seen in a year had come back into my life — and I discovered how important she was to me.

I’d been involved in the investigation of Charles duBois’ death. While the new Senior Director, Corey Lloyd Reese, was inadvertently poisoned, I flew to Paris to investigate duBois’ villa. Mines had been planted in the basement — they exploded, and six lives had been lost.

When I returned to HQ, I went through a long interview with the acting Senior Director, Briony Anne Mathers. Then the Senior Director had recovered from her brush with death.

So now, I was sitting at my desk awaiting a summons to her office, to once again, explain my actions in Paris.

The summons finally came, shortly after lunch.

“Parker!”

My Section Leader, Mike Killorn, had come into the squad room.

“Has anyone seen Parker?”

“Over here,” I said standing and smoothing my uniform.

“Senior Director just called. She’s ready to debrief you over Paris. Head on up there.”

“Yes, sir.”

To my surprise, Killorn snapped to and saluted. The entire room had fallen silent. Everyone was saluting me. I noticed Katrina Nighthawk with a big grin on her face as she saluted. And, to my surprise, the rarely seen Logan Blackeagle, who gave me a quick thumb up and a respectful nod.

I did the only thing I could. I sharply returned the salute.

I nodded to Killorn who surprised me, once again, by joining me as I proceeded out.

“You’ve earned the respect of a lot of people, Colonel,” Killorn said after we’d left the squad room. “And surprised everyone with the sudden jump in ranks. Myself, included. Scuttlebutt has it that the Senior Director promoted you.”

“More like a reinstatement of rank, sir,” I said simply as we reached the elevators.

“Reinstatement?” he asked eyebrows raised as I pushed the up button.

“I served in the US Navy and the Peacekeepers for a time,” I explained. “When I retired from service, my rank was Commander. The Senior Director found out about my service and decided that I should maintain that pay grade within the SPJ. It became effective just before my team and I went to France.”

“And none too soon,” Killorn said shaking his head slowly.

“Indeed, sir,” I agreed. “I don’t think I’d have been able to accomplish an eighth of what I did over there without my present rank.”

“And most likely,” Killorn added, “we’d be dealing with another new head of the SPJ.”

The elevator arrived.

“Colonel Parker,” Killorn said as I stepped inside. “Call me Mike. You out rank me now. And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“I’ll do that, si… Mike,” I said in pleasant surprise as I shook his outstretched hand. “As long as you call me Robert.”

“I’ll do that, Robert,” he smiled as the doors closed.

I took the elevator to the sixth floor and entered the large office on the northeast corner.

The Headquarters building is roughly flatiron shaped. The corner office on the northeast is the most popular. Of these, the one on the sixth floor is the most luxurious, and the purview of the Senior Director. It lies at the end of a corridor which leads first to an outer office, the small kingdom of RAF Captain Miles O’Halloran, Director Reese’s private secretary and general factotum. He’d come with her from her last posting.

Reese was a Wing Commander in the United Kingdom’s Royal Air Force. She was a career officer, pitched, unexpectedly, into her present role as Senior Director of the SPJ.

When I entered the office, I found two people there. The first being the aforementioned O’Halloran. The second was Captain Samantha Garrett, of Security Section. When I had joined the SPJ, Captain Garrett had been my first instructor. She also happens to be the ex-wife of my old Peacekeepers CO, Ted Westbury.

Yesterday, Garrett had been one of the Director’s bodyguards.

“Lieutenant Colonel Robert Bixby Parker,” I said. “Reporting as ordered to see the Senior Director.”

O’Halloran picked up the internal phone.

“Senior Director, Parker’s here.”

He nodded, hung up. Then he came around the desk and gave me about as thorough a pat down as I have ever experienced outside of a full strip search.

“All right. Go in.”

I walked into the inner office, saluted, and drew myself to full attention in front of her desk.

“Parker,” she acknowledged, standing and returning my salute.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Not twelve hours previous, I had held her in my arms and kissed her. There was no trace of that woman in the stern Senior Director I now faced.

She seated herself behind the desk, leaving me standing in front of her. If at all possible, I drew even more to attention. This wasn’t a Corey Lloyd Reese of whom I was familiar. For a moment, I reconsidered my declaration of the night before. Had I gone too far? Could I recover?

“I gave you an assignment,” she began without preamble, “to investigate the death of Charles duBois. Have you made any progress?”

I gave her the full report of what went on at the villa and at Paris Station. I finished up with the destruction of duBois’ villa and the subsequent events up to my return from Paris.

“I believe if you check your voicemail,” I said in conclusion. “You’ll replace the information I left for you to gain access to the private email account I mentioned earlier. I would also like to take full responsibility for my negligence of not checking the villa basement. It’s because of that negligence, six good people died, and several injured. Civilians included amongst the injured. And because of my negligence, I’ll have to live with those deaths, as if I had personally killed them myself.”

I’d been steeling myself for this meeting with the Senior Director. I was sure Miss Mathers had already briefed her. Regardless, I had determined to give her a full report and accept whatever consequences there would be for my actions.

I waited for the announcement of, at minimum, a Board of Inquiry, at most a court-martial; followed by my removal from the SPJ after serving prison time.

She rested her chin in her hand and regarded me for what seemed like hours, but which was in reality only a minute or two.

“Your acceptance of full responsibility will be noted, Lieutenant Colonel,” she said, “and dealt with at a later time. For now, I’m more concerned with the report of an investigator... a trained detective... and his conclusions as to who actually caused the death of Charles duBois.”

“So far as we know nothing’s been proven,” I answered. “But based on the information we obtained from Paris Station’s Security Chief, Jean François Baptiste, a Marie-Claire is the main suspect. I had Lieutenant Nighthawk looking for anything she could about this woman since she was duBois’ mistress and has since disappeared. But as Mr. Baptiste stated, there are a lot of Marie-Claires out there and we’re not sure that’s even her correct name.”

“I’ve already spoken with Nighthawk,” Reese said, idly inspecting her nails before looking back at me with unreadable eyes. “Her results are… inconclusive, at best. So — you’ve nothing further to add?”

“I regret to report, Director, I do not,” I said.

Reese gazed at me a moment, face unreadable, before she gave a nod of acceptance.

“Director Reese,” I said as a thought suddenly came to me. “It might be possible that this Marie-Claire could’ve been a member of another group working in tandem with Al-Qaeda.”

“Or a woman with an eye to the main chance,” Reese said. “DuBois was, by all accounts, one for the ladies. There’s also a considerable sum of money missing, possibly in the form of diamonds. Perhaps this Marie-Claire saw her chance and took it after duBois committed suicide. Perhaps she killed him. Dr. James didn’t seem too clear on the actual course of events.”

She stood, came out from behind the desk. Started to pace behind me.

I was getting nervous with her pacing behind me. Almost as if she were stalking her prey. However, I remained standing at attention.

“Ma’am,” I continued, “Baptiste did mention a cache of diamonds just prior to the explosion at the villa. Unfortunately, he disappeared not long after taking Dr. James and me to the scene. I never got the chance to pursue that line of questioning.”

No reply.

“I’d also like to add this,” I continued. “If all SPJ personnel are subject to random financial audits, including the office of the Senior Director, how is it none of the discrepancies appeared in these audits?”

“A good question, Parker — no, an excellent question. Nighthawk and Drayton are already looking into it for me.”

More pacing. Silent.

“Now…”

She halted behind me, just over my left shoulder.

“I have… a problem. One I would… welcome your input on. A Team Leader who is accepting responsibility for… a disaster not of his making. In fact, as far as I can tell, his… conduct was exemplary. And yet, I am being forced to take note of this disaster by his egregious, nay, arrogant — acceptance of all the blame.”

Was that a smile I could hear in her voice?

“What would you do in such a situation… Robert?”

Okay, if that were a smile in her voice, what kind of smile was it?

I didn’t know.

I was starting to become as nervous as a tottering elephant in a room full of antiques.. That smile could’ve been the cat that had finally trapped its prey for all I knew. It’s probably why I failed to hear her use my given name.

“Begging the Senior Director’s pardon,” I said tightly as I kept the nervousness out of my voice, “and I know it’s impolite to beg. However, I don’t see it as being arrogant for failing to check the basement and possibly preventing those deaths. I can only blame my negligence on my lack of sleep since the events of 9-11. However, that’s hardly an excuse. In fact, it is no excuse. Any well-trained soldier would’ve performed that task better than I did. I…”

That’s when I stopped my babbling and replayed her last question.

I waited.

I wanted to be sure before I made any assumptions. One wrong word and that hammer would come crashing down on my head.

To my surprise, her response, to say the least, wasn’t what I expected.

“What were you doing in my bedroom last night?”

I knew the question would come up, eventually. Just not this soon. That elephant and antiques analogy was becoming more and more real.

“To see you,” I said honestly. “To see for myself you were alright. I hadn’t intended to come to the bed. I only meant to look. I had to be sure for myself that you were alive and well.”

Throwing all caution to the wind, I turned to face her. Pulled her to me roughly. I kissed her with all the passion and relief I was feeling for her, knowing she was alive and well. At that moment, any reprimand I was to get would be worth it as long as she was alive.

Her lips met mine. She melted into me, with a passion I hadn’t suspected. Strong hands pulled me to her, holding me close.

For an age we held each other in sweet limbo, exploring, then she drew back, eyes shining.

As far as I recall, she never wore lipstick. No lipstick could’ve survived.

Suddenly, someone pounded on the outer door.

“Brace!” Corey whispered.

She patted her hair smooth and went to the door.

“I told you…”

“This is important.” O’Halloran pushed his way past her, went straight to the TV, and turned it on.

From America, the television presented reports of planes taking off and landing despite the prohibition. Crop dusters, overflying reservoirs. Planes were being scrambled to shoot them down, but not before massive amounts of chemicals were being dumped.

“Parker!!”

I stood at attention and waited for the inevitable barrage to come because I’d missed something important. I wasn’t sure who had barked my name. Therefore, I kept my mouth shut.

“Lieutenant Colonel, if I might have your attention, please?”

I turned slowly. Corey was standing a little behind O’Halloran. His attention was fully on the events on the screen. She beckoned urgently.

I silently let out a breath I’d been holding as I went over to Corey. For a moment there, I thought I’d been dreaming.

It was all very real.

From what I’d just seen on the television, my homeland was getting the very short stick of someone’s wrath. It looked like Mars, himself, was getting ready to have a field day.

“Yes, Ma’am?” I said as I reached Corey.

She stood watching the screen for a minute or two.

“There’s… nothing we can do about this, either,” Corey whispered. “Is there? I don’t remember the last time I felt this helpless…”

“Corey!” O’Halloran had gone to the window. “Look!”

Flashing silver in the sun, a jet where no jet should be, following the river. It was headed straight for our building.

“O’Halloran, sound the alarm,” she said calmly. “Then get yourself to safety. Parker, you’re with me.”

O’Halloran nodded and dashed to the outer office, slamming Corey’s door with a loud bang in his haste.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said as I began to follow to wherever Destiny led us in this hour of impending doom.

As I followed Corey, my mind was racing. What in the name of every Deity conceivable was happening? The only advance warning we had was O’Halloran put on the television. That warning was too little, too late. The evidence of how unnerved he’d been showed when he called Corey by her given name as he pointed out the jet to us.

Then a thought occurred to me as the klaxon alarms began to blare and the red alert lights came to life. I could get her to the sub-basement in shorter time than the possible route she may have intended. I looked to make sure we were alone. No one was near.

“Corey,” I said urgently as I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a complete stop. “I can get you out of here and down to the subbasement area safely. Do you trust me?”

“I have my duty as Senior Director to make sure everyone gets out alive,” she said, not listening. “But you don’t have to stay… I just wanted a few minutes more with you.”

She hugged me close, something that said more than her earlier kisses had, then pushed me away.

“Go, Robert,” she choked in a whisper, eyes glistening. “My place is here — but… remember me. Will you do that for me?”

She went to her desk, started calmly coordinating the evacuation of the building.

Being in love with a co-worker can be complicated. Even more so when said co-worker is your boss. Add to that, someone who has duty so ingrained in them, nothing else seems to matter. There were few options to choose from where the woman I loved was concerned.

I made my choice.

Bracing myself for the expected retaliation, I pushed a button on her desk to mute the klaxon, grabbed Corey away from the desk, and spun her around so she could face me. Then I jerked her to me and held her very tightly against my chest as I spoke.

“You do realize there are plenty of people here who know what to do,” I said calmly. “They’ve been working in this building longer than you and know where to go in an emergency.”

I felt her nod her head as I lessened my grip slightly.

“You once asked me if I’d be your jester,” I said stroking her hair. “That was two days ago. Well, I’m pulling the jester card, Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second. And your jester is telling you these people have things well in hand. You don’t know what the proper evacuation procedures are here yet. Two days ago, you didn’t even know if you had a car and driver. Can you replace your way out of here by yourself? You told Briony Mathers you could do some good for the SPJ. Getting yourself killed days after your predecessor died is not ‘doing good’ for the SPJ. It will harm it. If you want to do some good for the SPJ, then you’ll come with me. Once this is over, these people will need a strong leader who’ll lead them through the aftermath. They’re not going to want to have to deal with yet another new head of SPJ. And you know your father will be the one to have someone who’ll do exactly as he says in regards to the SPJ. Do you really want that?”

I held on to her a few seconds more before holding Corey out at arm’s length and raising her chin so I could look her in the eye.

“I nearly lost you once,” I continued once I was sure she was giving me her full attention. “If you think I’m allowing myself to lose you by letting you get yourself killed, you have another think coming, Missy. Because we’re in this together, like it or not. If you decide to stay, then you tell me how I can help you here. Because I’m not leaving your side. If that means we both die here, then so be it. ”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“Or you can come with me now and do your duty to the people who’re counting on you to live. Then… you can put me on report for interfering with your duties once this is all over… The choice is yours.”

As I finished, I kept holding her. And waited for her to speak.

“It’s… too late,” she said, glancing out the window at the jet that hung, ominously, in the sky.

And the blast doors closed.

“No it isn’t,” I said as I grabbed her by the arm and ran for the closet.

Ever try holding a cat that was just unceremoniously dumped into the water and then try to dry it off? That’s how Corey was acting, as I dragged her to the closet and shoved her in. Let me tell you. It got a lot worse from there. Because of the tight fit, I almost couldn’t replace the elevator. Nevertheless, I managed it. By that time, she calmed down. If you call an agitated viper calm.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” I said. “Right after you court-martial me for kidnapping, I’m sure. But at least you’ll be alive to do it.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I pushed the down button.

She lurched against me as the elevator started down.

“What the…”

Above us, came a sickening crash as the plane impacted the window to her office.

Corey shuddered and buried her face in my neck. She was whispering something, but I couldn’t quite hear what it was.

Then she looked up at me. Her face was wet with tears, but she was icily calm, obviously waiting to die.

“I love you, Robert Bixby Parker.”

“I love you, too, Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second,” I said tenderly. “Don’t worry, you won’t die. You still have to court-martial me for pulling you away from your duty station…”

Then I kissed her.

She clung to me, her heart racing, still not believing she would survive. Her kiss promised a passion to come that would far outstrip any I had ever before known.

The kiss lasted an eternity. And I was reluctant to end it. But I could sense we were nearing the end of the ride and I pulled away.

“I must ask you not tell anyone about this elevator. Counting myself there are only four people who know about this. And you make the fifth. As my benefactor said, this is about as close to a State Secret you’re gonna get.”

Okay I know, I didn’t say it exactly the way Briony Mathers did. But the spirit of what she said was still there. And just as I finished, the elevator door opened.

We faced a blank wall — I remembered the paneled door and hoped I’d brought the key with me.

But first I listened — to see if there was anyone on the other side of the door, in the third sub-basement.

Not hearing anything coming from the other side, I reached inside my front left pocket and dug out the key. I remembered I had put it there before reporting for work this morning that seemed an eternity ago. That pocket was also the only one that didn’t have anything else in it. Easier access if I needed to use it right away.

I eased the door open and looked around.

The sub-basement was deserted.

Grabbing Corey’s hand, I ran with her toward the stairs. We clattered down them. At the bottom, we ran across the lowest sub-basement to where I remembered the entrance to the shelters was.

As we arrived the door opened, and willing hands pulled us in. The shelter was packed, but there would always be room for one, or two, more, it seemed — even if those already inside would have to stand on each other’s shoulders.

“What’s going on? What’s happening out there?” someone asked.

“We’re under attack,” I announced. “I don’t know by whom, though. We weren’t the only ones attacked. From the looks of it, this may be a coordinated attack worldwide. Just before the building itself was attacked, it looked like the Americans had already been defending themselves against whoever it is. While we’re here, I need all of you to keep calm. We’re going to need to work together in order for all of us get through this. The walls of this building have been designed to withstand anything short of a direct hit from a nuclear blast. So, for the moment, we’re ok. Right now, I need everyone to remain calm and try to get as comfortable as you can. We may be here for a while. Save your strength for later. We may have to do some rescue work if it comes down to that.”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was saying. I just hoped I could keep people calm enough so we could make a plan of action if it were necessary.

“Do we have any officers in here?” I asked. “If we do, I need you to come to me.”

Somehow the people rearranged themselves to allow some of their number to come forward. Other than the Director and myself, there was no one higher than Captain.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Corey moving around among the people, shaking hands, offering words of encouragement.

Good girl, Corey. I thought to myself. I couldn’t help but give a slight smile.

I turned to the closest young officer to me.

“What’s your name?”

“David Cressler, sir.” His eyes found my insignia, and he pulled himself to attention. “Captain, Domestics.”

“Stand at ease, son,” I said soothingly. “You’ll know when the time’s right to stand at attention. No need to waste your strength on that. Right now, you’re who I was looking for. I need you to take three of these other officers with you. Find out what we have as far as inventory, food, water, medical supplies, and the like. Also, see if you can locate an emergency radio. If you replace any blankets pull some of the other people in here who look like they need something to do and have them pass out blankets to everyone. One blanket, one pillow per person mind you. Got it David?”

“Copy that,” he said briskly. “Colonel. We already have communications set up with the other shelter. It’s primitive, but it works.”

“Good work,” I said. “Show me where it is. But first, we need to catch up with that woman who is talking with everyone right now. I’m also putting you in charge of these other officers here. Get them to help you out with whatever you need. After you’ve dropped us off at the radio, go see about those supplies I mentioned. If you have any problems, come replace me. Got it?”

“Yes sir, the radio’s over here. There’s one in each bunker, sir. We’re manning them constantly.”

I nodded as I managed to catch Corey’s arm and moved us over to the radio.

“Who’re you talking to?” I asked the fresh-faced lieutenant who was currently on duty.

She held up her hand for silence and then looked up.

“Senior Commander Vallance, sir. He’s in Bunker Four.”

“Relay to Commander Vallance that Lieutenant Colonel Parker is here with the Senior Director and that we barely got out of her office before some kamikaze wannabe decided to crash into it.”

“Bunker Five to Bunker Four... I have a relay for Commander Vallance... Lieutenant Colonel Parker is here, sir... with…”

She looked up at me.

“Did you say with the Senior Director, sir?”

“Yes I did, Lieutenant. Please relay my message to Commander Vallance. And if he doesn’t believe it’s me, ask him if he could recommend a good priest for confession.”

It had been awhile since Ricky told me about his seeing a priest. It happened not long after the garden party back in March when I first met Briony Mathers. And since the information he’d passed on was something only we two would know, he’d be certain it was me.

The radio squawked urgently as the young lieutenant relayed the message.

She blushed.

“Sir, I… I don’t think I…”

She took off the headphones and looked up at me.

“He wants to talk to you, sir.”

I put the headphones on, adjusted the microphone.

“Parker.”

“Briony’s with you? I didn’t even know she was on site,” Vallance said.

“Wrong Senior Director, Commander,” I said. “I’m talking about Senior Director Reese. I had to pull her out of her office just before the plane hit. She wasn’t happy about it, I tell you. Reminded me of a cat tossed in the water.”

I gave Corey a wink and a smile; she had drawn closer with interest as she gave a knowing smile back.

“She threatened me with a serious reprimand for when this is all over, but at least she is alive to be able to do so. What’s the situation so far?”

“Ooee!! I don’t envy you that one — remind me to tell you... Never mind,” he said hastily. “The plane hit the Northeast corner office. Well, you knew that. We’re getting scattered reports from outside, but can’t call out. The building seems to be holding. No loss of life on the ground, but everyone on the plane was probably lost. No reports from outside regarding loss of life inside the building. Other stations are mobilizing to come in and pull us out. Last estimate I heard was twenty-four to forty-eight hours minimum. So we’re hunkered down, already on short rations, and waiting it out. I assume you’re relaying this to the Director?”

Corey had appropriated the other set of headphones and was listening intently.

“Oh — that Ricky Vallance…” she murmured for my ears alone. “Ask him about communications with the other shelters. Try to get a casualty report.”

“She’s in the loop,” I said. “Ricky, have you been able to get in touch with the other shelters? If so what’ve you heard? Also, I’ll need a casualty report.”

“Nick’s in One. He’s got a pregnant woman in labor. No casualties. Mallory’s in Two — and chafing at the bit. Nick and I’ve ordered everyone to stay put until further notice. I assume that’ll still hold?”

Reese nodded, gestured for me to carry on.

“Yes,” I said, “that still holds. What else?”

“I’m in Four,” Ricky continued. “You’re in Five. Three and Six haven’t reported in yet. DeVere’s in Seven trying to set up outside communications. She’s got Drayton with her, so if anyone can, they will. Eight reported briefly and then went off air. We don’t know the situation there. Miguel Gomez is in Nine. Lotta cussing going on over there; I think the bunkers are going to be completely revised once we get out of here. Webb’s in Ten, the Bartletts are both in Eleven, and Killorn’s in Twelve. All reporting that things are going well.”

“I managed to get some order restored in here,” I reported. “Got a couple of the junior officers checking our stores and passing out blankets and pillows. But the situation’s going pretty well, all things considered.”

Reese gestured for the microphone. I handed it over as she gave me her receiver.

“This is Reese. Commander, I think it would be a good idea to set up a communications tree between the bunkers. And for each bunker to appoint a recorder to take names, so we know exactly who is where. As well as keeping people occupied while we wait. At the moment, it seems that boredom is our biggest enemy.”

“I agree, Ma’am. I’ll get it set up, then report back.”

The connection ended.

Reese turned to me. “Check to see what kind of amusements are available, please? Cards, board games — see that they’re handed out.” She smiled. “I’m going back to being a figurehead, having a meet and greet with everyone. Showing the flag.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh, and — Parker — about pulling me out of my office...”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

Here it comes, I thought.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” I said with a smile of my own.

I knew her thanks was for more than just pulling her out of the office. It was apparent in her eyes. As far as I could tell, no one seemed to have noticed.

Considering the situation, we were lucky to be alive. I’m just glad I happened to be in Corey’s office when things hit the fan. It also seemed fortuitous my being given Briony’s only key to the back way into the Senior Director’s office. She must have foreseen I’d need it someday.

All this went through my mind as I went off in search of Captain Cressler. I figured he would’ve started getting the blankets and pillows passed out.

September 18, 2001:

We were in the bunkers a total of fifty-two hours before our people broke through and freed us. Upstairs, the fifth and sixth floors were cordoned-off disaster areas, but the bulk of the building had held up extremely well. The prognosis was good for full restoration.

Reese was tireless the entire time. I don’t think she got more than an hour of sleep. No matter what needed doing, she was first in line to do it, as well as boosting the morale of all and sundry.

And finally we were brought out, and it was time to relax.

The top two floors of the Headquarters building had been badly damaged. It would take extensive renovation to put them to rights. The rest of the building, however, was structurally sound and would still be able to be used while the renovations are going on.

Disaster Aid and Domestics had swung into full gear, planning the renovations. They were also rearranging everything else to make room for the people who had been displaced by the crash. These were:

1) The Senior Director, Corey Lloyd Reese. Her office was completely destroyed. The plane struck squarely on that corner — had she been in her office she would’ve been killed. Fortunately, she hadn’t moved a lot of personal stuff in. Unfortunately, anything of Charles duBois’ that remained there had also been destroyed.

2) The four Senior Commanders whose offices were also on the sixth floor. And their onsite quarters — anything they had in their offices would be, at the least, very difficult to salvage.

Storm and Vallance had homes outside headquarters — and had announced their intention to sleep in one of the dorms kept for HQ personnel who, for whatever reason, chose to stay over instead of going home, if they should need to stay, that is.

No word yet on what Redhawk and Conrad would be doing.

3) The twelve Section Leaders had their offices on the fifth floor. The fifth floor wasn’t as badly damaged as the sixth, so the offices were accessible — with difficulty. The main problem was the rubble — oh, and the gaping hole in the ceiling of Kjell Thorsensen’s office. He had the bad luck of having his office directly under Reese’s. Not to worry, though — Kjell spends most of his time in the basement with the computers, so his fifth floor office was more of a courtesy than anything else.

Medical reported that no one was killed in the attack — everyone was evacuated to the blast shelters in time. Minor injuries included the usual cuts and scrapes, one broken ankle — an eager young lieutenant who jumped an entire staircase.

And one new member of the SPJ family. A woman who gave birth while we were huddled in the shelters waiting for the all-clear. At last report, mother and baby were doing fine.

Outside Headquarters, damage was held to a minimum. Someone remembered the old air raid sirens — and managed to get them turned on before the plane hit. A generation of Londoners raised on the television program “All Our Yesterdays” shepherded their children and grandchildren, figuratively speaking, into the safety of the nearest underground stations. All that was necessary after that was cleanup.

The plane that had hit Headquarters, we learned, contained only the pilot and co-pilot, plus two others. It was being ferried down to a Boeing facility on the south coast of England for repair. The plane had been hijacked at Gatwick by two members of Al-Qaeda while everyone was distracted by the events in the US and aimed it at the SPJ Headquarters in an attempt to both destroy any evidence incriminating Charles duBois and to kill the new Director. It succeeded in only one of its tasks. In the US, the chemicals that had been dumped in the reservoirs were found to be mostly harmless; salt, in some cases, fertilizer, but nothing dangerous in the long term. Apparently, it was more of an annoyance and a diversion than anything else.

Currently, however, the problem of possible Al-Qaeda infiltration of the SPJ continues. And with Charles duBois’ records destroyed, it’s going to be very difficult indeed for the new Senior Director to ferret out the traitors within.

But that’s a problem for another day.

Add to that, we still had one loose end to clear up. Who exactly killed Charles duBois???

So far, we still hadn’t been able to figure it out. Out of all the concrete information we managed to obtain from duBois’ villa, only the information from his computers remained. I’m glad I had the foresight to download it to my laptop and forward copies to my team and to one of my private email addresses. Without that, the investigation probably would’ve come to a standstill long since.

Other personal mysteries also plagued my mind.

Who was Jack? Corey had called out his name the night I visited her in her rooms.

And what about Corey’s father, the Air Vice-Marshal and the pimply faced kid, Joe? Where were they? And what was the story behind that couple in regards to Corey?

A few months back, I decided I wanted to rent a place off site from HQ. I’m glad I went through with it. It wasn’t much. Certainly, not as nice as Commander Storm’s place. But it was serviceable. It has all the amenities necessary and there was room enough to spare. I originally planned on converting the second bedroom into an office. Instead, I decided since Corey was going to need a place to stay, she could make use of it.

“I’ve got a two-bedroom place nearby,” I told her during one of our few moments alone. “You’re welcome to make use of the spare bedroom since you don’t have a place to sleep currently. The complex is gated. Security is well maintained and up to date with the latest technology. It’s been vetted by the SPJ. You’d be perfectly safe there.”

“I…” I saw the hesitation in her eyes. Then she nodded firmly as if coming to an important decision. “I’ll take you up on that, Robert. Thank you.”

“I do promise,” I said reassuring her, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman the entire time. But for now, you’ve got a place to lie down and a roof over your head. Until such time as you’re able to replace suitable quarters of your own, that is.”

As I handed Corey the spare key to the apartment and gave her the gate code, I secretly hoped she wouldn’t replace a place of her own for a long time. Perhaps never if things went well between us as roommates and co-workers.

She took the key and carefully added it to the ring she carried.

“You’ll need to give me directions. Oh — is it approved by Domestics?”

“You mean about you becoming my roommate?” I asked as I pulled out some paperwork faxed over from Domestics and handed it to her. “All the paperwork’s in order. I put the directions in there for you.”

She took the paperwork, looked at it, then looked at me. Then she nodded.

“I’ll — look at it later. We have work to do. I’ve arranged for an office for you on the fourth floor. We’ll have to share it for now, until my office on the sixth is repaired.”

She carefully stowed the papers in her shoulder bag, which she had somehow managed to grab as I had hauled her out of her office.

Well, this’ll be fun. I thought to myself. Should be a minor test to see how well things go for us being around each other practically all day.

“Great, when do I get to see it?” I asked.

“As soon as Domestics clears the floor for usage.”

“What about you? Where are you parking your desk until we can get into the new office?”

“What do you mean? I already spoke with Domestics. Mike Bartlett will put two desks, two computers in there — one for you, one for me. When my office is ready, he’ll add an extra desk for you and move my desk out of your office. It’s only temporary.”

She looked around.

“Is everyone out? How many casualties did we take?”

“I meant… Never mind.” I said. “We’re the last to leave. Casualties were minor. No lives lost. Mostly cuts and bruises. Oh, a young lieutenant decided to jump down a flight of stairs in the rush, broke an ankle. Also, there’s a new addition to the SPJ family. A new hire had her baby in shelter One. She’s thinking of naming the child after Commander Storm.”

“I hope it’s a boy,” Corey said and she yawned. “Oh. I need to get some sleep, I think. Think it’s safe for us to leave? Who’s the duty officer?”

“I believe it’s the young captain who helped us out in the shelter. Captain David Cressler, from Domestics.”

“A good man. He’ll go far.” She yawned again. “Parker — I need to go somewhere and get some sleep. Now.”

“Well since we’re technically off duty, you can crash in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch until I can get the spare room straightened up. I can also introduce you to the property guard.”

“Take me…” she hesitated. “Take me home.”

I called on behalf of the Senior Director to have a car ready and waiting for us by the time we got to the parking garage. Since I still hadn’t learned how to drive locally, I asked for a driver as well.

Corey was leaning tiredly on me by the time we reached the parking garage. I was tired, too, because I didn’t recognize our driver at first. It took me a moment to realize it was…

Nick Storm.

Despite what we’d been through, he was only slightly mussed-up in appearance. When he asked where we were headed, I told him my apartment. The look he gave told volumes, but he only nodded and drove us home. Once we got to my complex, he said he’d personally drop by in the morning to ensure we made it to work on time. He bade us good night and drove off after he was certain we were inside the building. From there, I took a very tired Corey up to my apartment.

I half-walked, half-carried her into my bedroom, and tumbled her into my bed. I think she was asleep before we left the elevator.

I loosened her clothes and removed her shoes and belt, no more. I made sure the pillows were comfortable under her head and tenderly tucked the surrounding covers. I kissed her gently on the forehead, and stood watching for a minute or two as she slept deeply, evenly.

Then I sought my own rest on the couch in the main room.

It took me about a half hour to get to sleep — I hadn’t been up as long as Corey, who seemed not to need sleep as long as the emergency was under way. I’ve known others like that — I’ve even had a similar reaction myself.

Finally, smiling, I drifted off to sleep.

The screaming began barely an hour later.

I rushed to my bedroom, wondering what caused Corey to scream like that.

She was writhing on the bed, trapped in the sheets, caught in the grip of a nightmare. I went over to the bed, sat down beside her, and tried to wake her up. She stiffened and then threw herself away from me.

“Corey!!” I called out as I lunged to prevent her from falling off the bed.

“Jack…”

There was that name again.

“No, Corey,” I said. “Not Jack. Robert.”

“Robert?”

Her eyes flew open.

“I… was dreaming, wasn’t I? Was I… screaming?”

I hadn’t really planned on questioning Corey about her past. I figured she had a right to her own counsel in that regard. It wasn’t any of my business. Unfortunately, Corey’s subconscious had a mind of its own.

“Easy, Corey.” I said. “You were having a nightmare. About someone named Jack.”

She turned her face away as the tears started.

“I was… watching him die. Again.”

I just sat there. Stunned.

“Was he one of the people you told me about?” I asked carefully once I had recovered from my shock. “From when you were in the Middle East, I mean. Was he one of the betrayal victims?”

“Earlier. 1992. The first… person I ever lost. He didn’t break, Robert, you must believe that!! He didn’t break — and neither did I. That’s why the later betrayal was so… hard for me to take. Jack had died to protect us — and I had thrown that away.”

“You mean because you managed to escape to the embassy?”

She nodded.

“That — and the fact that I didn’t manage to root out the rot in time.”

She looked around.

“Robert, I can’t stay here. You… need your sleep. I… I never know when the dreams will come — some nights I sleep well, others…” she shrugged.

“All the more reason for you to stay,” I said immediately. “Would you rather someone like Garrett or O’Halloran came barging in on you when you had one of your nightmares? If I didn’t know better, it almost sounds like you’re trying to run away. You’re running from something and I believe it’s from more than just a nightmare of the past.”

“Miles knows. He was with me out there. My contact at the Embassy. He’s… woken me on more than one occasion. Garrett? I’m not sure. I… think she’s lying to me about something.”

She shifted restlessly.

“What time is it? We need to get up early tomorrow, go back to Headquarters, and see what’s going on. I can’t do much, but I can be there…”

“Garrett can go hang,” I said. “I don’t care about Garrett, right now. She has her own demons. According to Ted, he’s one of them. Stop being evasive and tell me about it, Corey. You wouldn’t be having these nightmares if you didn’t need to talk about it. Start talking, Missy. Or Nick Storm’s going to have a very long wait when he arrives to pick us up in the morning. Because we aren’t leaving until you tell me everything. And once the air is cleared… then you can put me up on charges for holding you hostage if you wish.”

“You are just begging for me to bring you up on charges, aren’t you? Dragging me away from my duty station — kidnapping — now holding me hostage…”

“Yup,” I said. “And if under similar situations where you were being stubborn and evasive — like you are right now — I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. And will continue to do so as your jester. But most importantly because I love you.”

I softened my voice.

“But right now, you need to get it off of your chest. Whatever it is. Or we will both see who can out mule the other.”

“And what kind of name is Missy, when applied to your Commanding Officer,” she said with a mock shudder. “It sounds so… American.”

She glared at me. When she realized I wasn’t going to budge, she let out her breath and proceeded to speak.

“Jack Tarrant. Third year language instructor at IOT. Arabic, Farsi. Trained me in passing for native — he could do it without thinking. Even out of disguise, I walked the proper distance behind him — it seemed natural. When I went to Monterey as visiting language professor, he wangled a posting to a nearby base so we could… continue our studies.”

She looked straight at me.

“Will it bother you, Robert? That you won’t be the first?”

Her tacit acceptance of our future relationship took my breath away. Before I could answer, she had gone on.

“I met Miles at about the same time — when I was putting my team together for the Intel mission I asked for them both. Miles as inside man — Jack as my — partner. Well, you’ve seen Miles — no way he could pass for Arab. But Jack could. For most of the time we posed as… we lived as man and wife. Under the burka, no one could see how short my hair was — Jack also taught me to pass as a young male Arab, as well. That’s the persona the agents knew. We were coming back from a meeting with one of the cells when we were taken. Of course, my true gender was discovered immediately. They told Jack — and he repudiated me. Said he thought I was a young man. Then they tortured him, forcing me to watch. He didn’t break. He… laughed at them... And then he died... And then they beat me for impersonating a man, and threw me out into the desert to die, as well... I wanted to die. But Miles came after me and dragged me back.”

She fell silent, looking at her hands.

I waited, sensing there was more.

“Then the letters started arriving…” she whispered.

“What did the letters contain?” I asked softly.

Her eyes were focused miles — and years — away. I don’t think she even heard me. Yet she answered.

“You killed him... You killed my… husband... You took… my child’s father away from us…”

“You were romantically involved with a married man, weren’t you,” I said frankly, a hint of a question barely evident, but not judgmental.

“I… didn’t… know…” she whispered, hanging her head.

“So why are you blaming yourself?” I asked. “Did you suspect he might’ve had a wife and child at all? If not, then it’s not your fault. If his wife knew of his occupation, then she knew the risks involved. She had no right to blame you for something that wasn’t your fault. Something you had no control over. It happens sometimes in the situation you both were in.”

I held her by her shoulders.

“Corey,” I said gently. “What happened between the two of you was natural. You are an adult, a human being. You aren’t an emotionless automaton. Neither was Jack. It was bound to happen, your relationship. You spend as much time together as the two of you did what would you expect. You can’t continue to blame yourself for any of it. He made his choice, knowing what would happen. He probably saved your life that day; telling them he thought you were a male. Had he not, chances are you would’ve been killed right there on the spot.”

I stopped speaking. I gave her the time needed to let what I had told her sink in. I, then, waited for her to say something.

There was a long pause. Her response, when it finally came, was totally unexpected.

“Are you married, Robert?”

“I…” she added. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

For a moment, I just sat there looking at her. I couldn’t blame her for asking, however. She’d been burnt once already. She was just covering her bases.

“For someone who’s seen my life’s story,” I said with a wry grin, “you already know that answer. However, for the sake of the moment. No, I’m not married. I never have been, either. I came close once, but it never happened.”

“I needed to hear it from you, Robert,” she said. “Besides, we both know records lie.”

“By the way,” I continued carefully. “While you were incapacitated, Storm told me your father showed up with some kid named Joe. Claimed he was your fiancé. You’re not engaged to someone already, are you?”

“No. I’m not. My father wants me to be — it’s the son of an old friend. Joe and I are — as the saying goes — just good friends. It embarrasses both of us when Father throws us together.”

She pushed the covers away and looked down at herself. It seemed to surprise her to replace out that she was fully clothed.

“This place wouldn’t happen to have a coffee pot, would it? If you don’t know how to make it, I think I can remember.”

“Will instant coffee do?” I asked apologetically as I sat there in my sweat pants and no shirt. “Being a bachelor, I never got around to purchasing one yet. However, it is pretty late for coffee. Unless you plan on staying awake for the rest of the night. It’s just about midnight as it is. Nick said he’ll be back in time for us to be on time for work. This means we’ve about seven hours before he gets here to…”

From the look Corey gave me, I could tell I was babbling again.

“I’ll go get the kettle started for the water,” I said as I started to get up.

“Instant is fine. We can always take tomorrow off if needed. I think I have enough pull with your boss to arrange that.” A sudden smile. “After all, we’ve been through the last few days…”

I stopped in mid-rise at what she said and looked at her. Her suggestion of calling the both of us in had paralleled an unbidden thought I had pushed to the back of my mind. I was, however, unsure of the intent.

“Corey,” I asked carefully. “Just what do you have in mind?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at me, her uniform crumpled, stained, her heart — and her vulnerability — in her eyes.

I looked at Corey for a minute before leaving the bed. It would’ve been so easy to take advantage of her. Seeing her in that state would’ve made a weaker man do exactly what I wanted to do. However, I promised her I’d be a perfect gentleman. If she wanted something more after revealing her past as she had, then it was up to her to do so; on her own initiative. I had no right to make that decision for her.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I must be more tired than I thought. I’ll get the water started.”

As I reached the bedroom door, I stopped and turned to Corey.

“You don’t have to stay in here,” I said. “You can come out to the living room and talk if you wish.”

Despite my intentions of having Corey for a roommate, I found I had no idea what to do. I never had a female roommate before. It was an undiscovered country that, for me, had never been explored.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” I said as I turned back toward the hallway.

“Wait…” she whispered. “No. Go and start the coffee. I’ll… join you in a minute or two. Oh — where’s the bathroom? I need to throw water on my face.”

“Master bath is to your right,” I said turning back to face her.

My heart lurched when Corey asked me to wait. I wanted to rush right over to her. However, I needed her to give her full consent before I did anything. It seemed the right thing to do. Much like our night in Uxbridge, I let her take the lead.

“Thanks.”

She stood, hesitated, and then walked over to me. She cupped my face in her hands, and pressed her lips to mine, gently.

“Thank you. I… just give me a few, all right? I… I promise. I promise I’ll tell you the whole story, be… before we leave here. Then, if you still want me for a roommate… I’ll fight you for the couch.”

Another quick, gentle kiss, then the bathroom door slammed behind her.

I stood looking at the closed door for a moment. And for the first time in memory, my mind was blank. Except for the quick kisses, I’d just received from Corey. I shook myself back to the present and went to prepare the coffee.

I heard noises in the bedroom, but deliberately waited for her to come out. To be quite frank, I wasn’t quite sure who would come through that door — Corey or the Senior Director.

She surprised me yet again. She had obviously taken a shower and had contrived a sort of toga from one of the sheets I kept in the bathroom closet.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her in anything resembling a dress.

Smiling, she came over and sat at the table opposite me. She picked up the coffee cup and inhaled the steam, then took a sip.

“Where shall I begin?”

“Starting from the beginning,” I said with candor, “is usually the best place to start. Take your time — we’ve got all night.”

I took another sip of my coffee and waited for her to begin when she was ready. As I waited, I knew I needed to keep my mind focused on helping Corey. I didn’t need to keep thinking about the flash of her thigh I kept seeing when she walked out. Nor did I need to think about how the sheet silhouetted her body when the light hit it just right. If this were a test of my willpower, I knew it might be one I would ultimately fail. I needed to keep my mind on the situation at hand. Problem was, Corey, and everything about her was the subject at hand.

“My shoulder bag.”

She stood up and walked over to the couch.

She twisted the sheet around her waist, and then looped it up over and behind her neck, leaving her back bare. I watched her walk away from me, hips undulating slightly, back bare and brown, with a light tracing of fine white scars.

I closed my eyes. My hands, under the table, clenched so hard I could feel the nails biting into the palms.

“This is Jack.”

She came back to the table and placed a photograph in front of me.

“Robert, if you’re tired, we can do this some other time…”

“No,” I replied almost too quickly. “It’s just the scars on your back. Are they all from when they discovered you were a woman?”

“Yes. I told you. They dumped me in the desert to die. It took Miles a day or two to replace me. By then, there was sand and dirt in the cuts.”

She placed another picture in front of me. A happy, laughing child.

“That’s Jacky. Jacky is… Jacky’s profoundly mentally retarded. He goes to a special school, down in Kent. It’s costing me the earth…” she murmured, almost too softly for me to hear.

“Is he yours and Jack’s?” I asked carefully. “Or by his wife? Regardless, I can understand you wanting to help take care of him. I do the same myself when it comes to taking care of the families of those who’ve been killed while on my watch. Friend and foe alike.”

“Robert, I swear I didn’t know he existed until after Jack had died…” she said as tears came to her eyes.

As soon as the tears came, I rushed out of my seat and held her. As I held Corey, I rocked her gently back and forth. This was a very different woman from what I’d seen before. My heart went out to her and I wanted to cry with her. However, one of us had to be the strong one now. I knew I’d cry for her hurts later. All of them.

“I know you didn’t know about Jacky,” I said gently. “How could you have known? Jack kept his secrets from you. Perhaps, he meant to tell you when he was sure the time was right. Perhaps, he never intended to tell you. But for the time you both had together, I’d like to believe you were there at a time when even he needed an anchor of something normal. In spite of it all, you were that anchor. And I think deep down he was for you as well. You can’t blame yourself for falling in love with him. Nor can you blame him, either. Just cherish the moments you had together. Life’s too short as it is to worry about regrets. No matter how many years you live. Jack had to have loved you. He protected you in the only way he thought was the best. He still saw you as an innocent. And he did what he could to protect you from losing that innocence as best he could, considering the occupation you both chose. But Jack knew you’d come through it. He saw the same strength in you that I do. And that strength has helped to shape the woman you are today.”

By the time I was finished, I felt drained. I had poured all my strength of will into my words. But I summoned up more while I held her, ready to draw upon any ounce of that will to remain strong for her at that moment.

She turned her face into my chest and sobbed. I felt the tears flowing down my bare chest. She clung to me. Shuddering. Weeping. And I could feel her releasing all the pent-up emotion she’d been carrying for so long.

Losing Jack, whom she had obviously loved.

Finding out about Jacky, and the guilt that brought.

Losing the other members of her intelligence network.

The Board of Inquiry, and the subsequent posting to Gibraltar.

And finally, becoming Senior Director, and her two most recent brushes with death.

It was a wonder the woman was still as sane as she was.

I pulled my chair over, sat down, pulled her into my lap. Not an easy task — but necessary, I thought.

She recovered enough to look around, realize what I’d done, and start to laugh. A laughter that turned into uncontrollable hysterics.

As I held Corey, something didn’t ring true, here. I thought back over what she’d told me. Everything she said indicated that Jack Tarrant loved her — why would he have concealed his wife and child?

We both know that records lie — what records? Had she checked him out? If so, what had she found?

This wife of his, Maria, I thought she had said. From what Corey had said, not in the records — and had not surfaced until after Jack had died.

I knew that the American Military had death benefits for surviving spouses and children. Peacekeepers did, as well. I could only assume that the British Military had such a system in place. What possible reason would Tarrant have had for concealing the fact that he had a wife — and a dependent son?

I filed this information carefully away for future investigation.

But for now, my concern had to be Corey.

I let Corey go on letting it all out in her own way. Even letting her hysterical laughter play itself out. It seemed the best thing to do. I’m sure some Freudian trained psychologist would have slapped her silly across the face to prevent her hysterical laughter from continuing. However, to me, it seemed best to let it run its course.

When she did wind down, finally, after a few moments, we just sat there. She in my lap. Me holding her gently.

“So, Corey,” I said to lighten the mood. “What would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas this year? I have it on good authority you’ve been an especially good girl this year.”

She laughed — but a genuine laugh this time.

“I think… you know that, Robert.”

Her lips found mine, parted. Her tongue flicked out in the age-old invitation to the dance.

I’m not sure how, but the next thing I knew we were suddenly in my bedroom and on my bed. As we began to explore each other in between passionate kisses, I managed to take my necklace off and set it carefully on my bed stand. The next moments afterwards are none of your business.

Suffice it to say, Corey and I finally managed to catch up on a very long separation and performed our own private ceremony for being alive and surviving a tumultuous several days.

Finally, we slept. It felt strange to sleep with someone else wrapped around me — strange, but very, very right.

And awoke to a thunderous knocking on the door.

And the shrilling of telephones; the one in the apartment, and both our cell phones.

We both began, frantically, making the apartment appear as if we had slept in separate rooms. Me on the couch and Corey in my room.

Corey answered the door, sheet wrapped around her, while I was occupied speaking in both my phones. She also had her cell phone to her ear.

“Parker,” I said into both phones.

Fortunately, I was looking in her direction, or I wouldn’t have seen the look that passed momentarily over Nick Storm’s face. Then he drew himself correctly to attention.

“Your car is downstairs, Director.”

“Wait one,” she said into her cell phone.

“I shall be down shortly.”

She closed the door in his face.

“O’Halloran… O’Halloran that is enough! If I hear one more word out of you, I’ll have you up on charges, and that is a promise!!”

She snapped her cell phone shut, and turned to me, a look of fury on her face.

Both my phones were essentially yammering the same thing. Garrett was on the house phone, Ricky Vallance on the cell.

“We can’t replace the Senior Director! She’s not answering her phone! Storm went to pick her up... wouldn’t say where... and no-one’s answering the door!”

I looked at the clock. It was just nine, over an hour past the time we’d been due back at HQ.

“The Senior Director’s with me,” I said into both phones as I looked at Corey. “We had a scheduled breakfast meeting this morning. It’s possible, in all the confusion of the past few days, the meeting failed to go through the proper channels. I only found out this morning myself. Would you like to speak with her?”

A ‘Yes’ — from Vallance. A ‘No’ — from Garrett.

I hung up on Garrett and handed the cell phone to Corey.

“Vallance.”

She put it to her ear.

“Reese.”

She listened for a few minutes.

“Lieutenant Colonel Parker is my administrative assistant. We plan to do this regularly,” she said with a gleam of fun in her eyes for me, a mouthed “I hope so!”

She listened again, and then obviously cut him off.

“I do not answer to you, Commander — you answer to me. Your time would be better occupied cleaning up the mess that is our HQ — not following me around and checking up on my activities! I know you recently lost a Senior Director. I know the circumstances under which you recently lost him. I understand you are concerned,” her voice softened. “Your concern for me does you credit, Commander. But I assure you, I am perfectly all right.”

She hung up the phone, turned to me.

“Now for Storm. Get him in here, please.”

I called Storm on my cell phone.

“Commander Storm, she’ll see you now… Up here…”

“He’s on his way back,” I said as I hung up my phone and began looking for my robe.

As Storm entered the apartment, Senior Director Reese came out of the bedroom. She had rearranged the bed sheet to cover a lot more of her, and was holding her uniform in one hand, a sheet of paper in the other.

“When I arrived here, I had one suitcase with me. That suitcase is still in my office. When I left my office, moments before the plane hit, I grabbed my shoulder bag, no more. I then spent a number of hours in a basement shelter. I had not arranged for housing. I had planned on using the apartment connected to the office, for at least the first six months, until I had a handle on what was going on. Last night my administrative assistant, Lieutenant Colonel Parker, here, graciously allowed me to sleep in his apartment. I refused to let him return to the temporary quarters that had been set up as you had already left, and he had no way of getting there short of walking. ’Honi soit qui mal y pense’, Commander.”

Nick had the grace to look embarrassed at that.

“This is my uniform.”

Abruptly, she flung it at him. It hit his chest and fell to the floor.

“That is the only clothing I possess — and it is filthy. Torn, and filthy. Not fit for a tramp to be seen in public, much less the Senior Director of the SPJ!! I also cannot appear at Headquarters dressed in a bed sheet.”

She handed him the piece of paper.

“These are my measurements. I need at the very least two sets of pants, two shirts, one skirt and one pair of trousers. I would send Parker, but — he doesn’t drive. And we haven’t yet concluded our meeting.”

Storm still hadn’t said a word. He bowed his head and left.

“And a coffee pot,” she called after him.

“Speaking of Administrative Assistants,” I said with my eyes still on the door Storm had just exited. “You might want to keep Ted Westbury on as one. He was my commanding officer in the Peacekeepers and he’s one of the few people I know who can be trusted. Robyn Coyne, as well. I understand they’re on paid administrative leave, on your orders, currently. They’ve been with the SPJ longer than I have. They can help bring you up to speed in regards to your knowledge of SPJ procedures. Unless you plan on doing a complete restructure of SPJ policy.”

The last I said with a frank look in Corey’s direction.

“I am not sure I can do that, Parker. Not yet.”

She walked over to the couch and sat down.

“My reasons are two-fold — I do not yet know who I can trust — and they both were Administrative Assistants to my predecessor. Until I can be sure that they weren’t a part of — of anything he was a part of, they must remain suspect. I am sorry.”

She paused. I waited — there was obviously more to come.

“If you can get in touch with them, you can give them a strictly unofficial message from me. As soon as we replace out what Charles duBois was up to — if they can then pass a polygraph test, I’ll reinstate them. Not necessarily as Administrative Assistants, but at least as advisors.”

“Ted will be easy to contact,” I said as I sat beside Corey. “We tend to have a semi-regular line of communication going since my UNO reactivation. Coyne, however, is another matter. My contact with her has been limited. My few encounters with her were brief, to say the least. Once during her rescue and once during my graduation. I might be able to use her gratitude for the rescue as a way to go along amicably with the lie detector test. You want me to contact them now?”

“Perhaps after breakfast? I’m starving. I don’t remember when I last ate.”

“You like omelets?” I asked as I rose from the couch. “I can make a mean egg and cheese omelet. Diced onions, tomato. No sausage, though, or ham. I’ve not done much grocery shopping lately”

“Perfect.” She picked up her cell phone, flipped it open. “I’ll be in the bedroom — call me when it’s ready. Hello, Uncle Marc? No, I’m fine,” I heard her say, as I headed for the kitchen. “I need to…”

And the bedroom door closed behind her.

Storm returned just as we were finishing breakfast. I had taken the time to shower and change by then — Corey had also and was now wearing one of my bathrobes.

It was a lot sooner than I expected — but he’d gone straight to Headquarters, checked in with Stores, and handed the list off to one of the female clerks to deal with.

“What are your plans today, Director?” Storm asked, handing her a suitcase.

“I’ll need a car and a driver. Not you, Commander, you have your own duties to attend to. O’Halloran will do, I think, since my office is uninhabitable, unless you have other plans for him?”

“No, Ma’am.”

His expression indicated that it didn’t much matter what anyone else’s plans were for O’Halloran, if the Senior Director wanted him.

“Good. Have them here as soon as possible and then return to your own duties. Oh — the coffee pot?”

“Coffee pot, Ma’am?” Storm was puzzled.

“Never mind. I can buy one later. That will be all, Commander.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Parker, you’re with me.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said as Storm left.

“Umm, there is one thing you need to know about me,” I said hesitantly as I pulled out the necklace that was my only concrete tie to my ancestry. “A few people know about it. But not the full story.”

I told Corey about Jasmine, how we met, and of our relationship since that night. I figured it were for the best if Corey knew about this part of my past and present if I planned to have this woman in my life. I’d never told any of my past lovers about Jasmine. Surprisingly, it was easier than I thought telling her of Jasmine as I went on.

Her face serious, she held out her hand. “May I?”

I took off the necklace and warily held it out to her. Aside from Jasmine, my great-grandmother Jasmine Georgena and my great-great-grandfather Sir Roger Bixby, no one other than myself had ever touched it. Therefore, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

When I received the necklace as a child from Great-grandma, I always had it with me but never wore it until the day I was promoted to Detective within the Miami-Dade PD. That night, after coming home from celebrating my promotion with some of my friends within the station, I met my ancestress for the very first time. I also discovered, quite by accident, I could no longer sense Jasmine’s presence when I took the necklace off. It happened when I had taken it off during a private moment with the first girlfriend I had after meeting Jasmine. Ever since that particular discovery, I’ve made it a point to take off the necklace. I didn’t need a passing commentary from Jasmine on what I was, or wasn’t, doing. Especially knowing her attitude towards being quite frank about male-female relations.

I really wasn’t expecting Corey’s reaction when her hand touched the necklace.

Her eyes widened as her mouth made an “O” of surprise.

“Robert,” she said with wonderment and confusion. “I can sense something coming from the necklace. Something benign, calm, peaceful and feminine. Is that your Jasmine?”

She reluctantly returned the necklace to me. It was obvious she wanted to experience more of these new sensations.

Just as I had replaced the necklace around my neck, a new voice came from behind Corey.

“I think I can answer that for you,” Jasmine said in her lilting voice as a mischievous smile slowly appeared on her face.

Her sudden appearance was reminiscent of the one she made when Briony Mathers first met Jasmine. Unlike Briony, however, Corey gave a squeak and dived into my arms as she looked behind her, nearly undoing the robe she had borrowed.

“Jasmine,” I said admonishingly as I held a slightly trembling Corey in my arms. “You should know better than to do things like that when we have guests.”

“But, Robert,” my ancestress began with a smile. “What would be the fun in that? At least, your Briony Mathers had the presence of mind to hold her surprise in check when I revealed myself to her.”

“True,” I rebutted. “But Briony also has more years of experience in regards to surprises of the unexpected than some of us.”

“You’re correct, as usual Robert,” Jasmine agreed a bit reluctantly. She then turned her attention to Corey, who had been watching our exchange with studied interest, still in my arms, as her momentary fright faded.

“I do apologize for frightening you, Corey,” Jasmine said with a genuine smile of warmth and greeting. “And since my uncouth great-great-grandson seems to be lacking in manners at the moment, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Lady Jasmine Bixby, wife of Sir Roger Bixby, the late Earl of Flamstead and Maidstone.”

Jasmine held out her hand as she uttered that last, expectantly.

“Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second,” Corey replied as she extended a tentative hand out to Jasmine. “Senior Director of the UNO-SPJ…”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she grasped a solid hand.

“You… you’re solid! And how do you know my name?”

“Only the hand is solid,” Jasmine replied with a warm, soothing smile as Corey’s hand suddenly went through hers. “I know a lot about you. More than you or Robert think. In fact, I know the both of you will become man and wi…”

Jasmine grimaced.

“Well, that can be discussed at another time,” she continued. “Suffice it to say, I know a great deal about you. I was there when you and Robert first met at Uxbridge. And when you were reunited the day you took over as Senior Director. What questions do you have of me? I’ll answer as best as I can.”

I didn’t fail to notice what Jasmine had been about to say. She once told me she knew whom I was going to marry. I always thought she’d been joking. This new revelation, however, just took Corey’s and my relationship to a new level. I made note to ask Jasmine about this later as I looked down at Corey, who must’ve missed Jasmine’s slip. I could only attribute Corey’s lack of perception to her shock at meeting her first spirit.

“Lady Jasmine,” Corey began, still clinging to me with one arm as she stared at her still outstretched hand.

“Call me Jasmine,” she replied as she settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “I see no need to be formal. Especially, if you’re going to be a constant presence in Robert’s life from now on.”

The last, Jasmine said with a knowing smile toward the both of us. I had to school my face to a look of unknowing innocence when Corey looked up at me with a questioning look.

Yup, I thought to myself. Jasmine and I were due for a very long talk.

“Very well, Jasmine,” Corey acceded with a nod of her head. “How is it you’re here? Was it your presence I felt in Robert’s necklace?”

“I know Robert’s been wondering the same thing for many years,” she replied slowly. “And he never received a proper answer from me whenever the subject came up. I always managed to put him off by changing the subject, or something would come up to prevent me from answering. So, I shall put an end to this ‘little mystery’ as Robert is wont to say.”

Jasmine looked at the both of us before continuing.

“I suppose I should start by mentioning I was formally trained by a very adept Master of the Mystic Arts. Robert would probably recognize the name of one of my teacher’s other students from his memories, Prince Rajiv of Hyderabad. Rajiv was a wonderful man. And his wife was as beautiful as you are Corey. We had some wonderfully exciting, sometimes near fatal, adventures together.”

She paused, remembering herself.

“But I digress. The necklace Robert now wears was a gift to me from Roger from one of his first adventures he had when we first met. In fact, it was the very first of many gifts from Roger. It’s also my most treasured. During my training, I attended a particularly interesting ceremony. One that involved placing part of one’s living spirit into an inanimate object. Upon that person’s death, their spirit will enter the object and whoever is destined to receive said object will benefit from the knowledge and experience of the spirit within. One person cannot do this particular ceremony alone. It requires the presence of two people. The Mystic performing the ceremony and the person willing to have their spirit placed within the object.”

She paused for a moment, seeming to take a breath.

“By the time my youngest daughter, Jasmine Georgena, was born I knew the family legacy would be passed on to a later generation. Therefore, when she was old enough, I began teaching her what I knew of the Mystic Arts. Shortly after her marriage to Young William — and the both of them were quite young, I must add — I had her perform the aforementioned ceremony, only modified to fit my instructions. The necklace would be passed on only to someone of my bloodline. My spirit can only be seen, or felt, when the owner of the necklace wears — or in close proximity — it. Those not of my blood can only see me as long as a member of my bloodline is wearing, or near, the necklace. In addition, the current owner of the necklace would know immediately who would inherit the necklace when the prospective inheritor is born.”

She gave me a pointed look.

“So, yes,” Jasmine finished. “In answer to your question, Corey, it was my presence you felt inside Robert’s necklace. Only someone who has a strong talent for psychometry, such as yourself, would be able to sense my presence.”

“Psychometry,” I explained to Corey when she looked up at me questioningly, “is the ability to obtain information about a person or event by touching an object related to that person or event.”

Nodding her agreement, Jasmine continued.

“You have, by the way, a strong potential. I’d imagine, with the right training, your ability would become very powerful. Unfortunately, there’s no one, in this day and age, to teach you what you need to learn. But that will come in time.”

I knew from experience Jasmine was speaking with a certainty of one who had the foreknowledge of things to come. Apparently, so did Corey.

“You seem quite certain of this,” she said as she sat up abruptly; quite alert and slipping into Command mode. “How do you know?”

“It’s best you don’t know too much of what is in store for you.” Jasmine said as she faded from view. “Right now you need to get yourself dressed. Your Captain O’Halloran, I believe his name is, will be here shortly.”

Jasmine’s last words still lingered in the air when Corey turned to me. There was a look in her eyes that seemed a combination of irritation and question. The irritation, I knew came from her not getting the answer she wanted.

“Robert,” she demanded. “Get her to come back. I still have questions.”

“Trust me in this,” I said soothingly. “Jasmine’s not my lap dog. She appears when she knows it is necessary. Even then, only if she is able to. It takes up a lot of her energy to appear when she does. Even more so when making herself solid.”

I grinned.

“Besides, she already said, in her own way, you’d have plenty of chances to speak with her. Right now, you need to either get dressed or meet Captain O’Halloran in that robe of mine when he gets here.”

“I hope so,” Corey said. “We — have a lot to talk about, Robert. But if Lady Jasmine is right, I had…”

A knock on the door.

“Get that, please, Robert,” Corey called, vanishing in the direction of the bedroom. “Tell him we’ll be right with him.”

I waited until Corey had the bedroom door fully shut before I opened the front door. As expected, O’Halloran was waiting.

“Come in, Captain,” I said opening the door wide for him. “The Senior Director will be a few moments. Her orders were to see you were treated hospitably while you wait. Help yourself to some coffee.”

Okay, Corey didn’t say I had to be hospitable to the man. However, I figured if I were going to be around her as her Administrative Assistant, O’Halloran and I needed to get used to being around each other.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” I asked as I began clearing off the table. “I can make you a quick omelet if you haven’t.”

“Coffee will be fine, Sir,” O’Halloran said as he fixed himself a cup after a brief glance at the breakfast remains.

By the time I had finished cleaning up, Corey was fully dressed and carrying her shoulder bag with her. She wasn’t uniform I was surprised to see. She was in one of the skirts and shirts Storm had brought earlier.

“Ah, Captain O’Halloran,” she said pleasantly. “I’m glad to see you and Parker getting along nicely. Get used to him being around more often. He’s taken the job as my Administrative Assistant. For now, however, I need you to drive us over to Uncle Marc’s in Shrewsbury.”

“Of course Ma’am,” he said as he led us to the waiting car.

“Oh, one other thing, Captain,” Corey added as an afterthought as I held the car door open for her. “In the future, should the Lieutenant Colonel here wish to visit me, you are to allow him immediate access. Regardless of the situation and without delay. He’s to be the only one allowed free reign into my office or quarters, whether or not I’m present or in a meeting, and without your usual security checks. There will be times when the Lieutenant Colonel will be carrying items that are for my eyes only, and I do not need your people placing their noses where they shouldn’t. Please make sure your people are aware of this request. Parker you’re with me.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” we both said as we got into the car and began our three hour-long trip to Shrewsbury.

The ride was obviously familiar to both Corey and Captain O’Halloran. So was the car. As soon as we entered, she quickly turned off and locked the intercom to the front.

“Tell me more about Lady Jasmine. And Psychometry.”

“Well as you know, Jasmine is my ancestress,” I began. “She was born in India in 1854. Met my great-great-grandfather who was in the company of Prince Rajiv, whom Jasmine mentioned earlier, Prince Rajiv’s new bride and Lady Violet Brooke-Harrington. Sir Roger had been masquerading as Lady Violet’s secretary at the time. He was quite reluctant to reveal his true identity to anyone within his company. Though Lady Violet did suspect something about Roger. Roger happened to meet Jasmine during one of his many forays into the not quite ‘respectable’ district of Hyderabad. They met while playing a game of chess. One thing led to another and the two found they enjoyed each other’s company very much. They eventually got married and had six children. Jasmine Georgena, the youngest daughter, eventually became my great-grandmother. As for my personal experiences with Jasmine…”

I wound up telling Corey everything about Jasmine I could dredge up. From Jasmine’s willingness to help, to her propensity for making the oddest comments when I was in the middle of a crowd, to her frankness in regards to human sexuality. Every time I thought I had told Corey all that I knew of Jasmine, she managed to pull something else out of me I had noticed but always considered just part of Jasmine’s make-up.

When it came to explaining psychometry to Corey, I took a different approach.

“Psychometry is the gift of being able to sense things about an object just by touching it,” I began. “The Psychometrist is able to ‘read’ such things as previous owners, conditions of various people associated with the object — for instance, who it belonged to previously, and especially tragedies associated with the object. For instance…” I reached into my own shoulder bag and pulled out a small notebook which I handed to her. “No, don’t open it. Just ‘feel’ it, tell me what you read from it.”

Her eyes closed, and she held the notebook between both palms, loosely but firmly.

“It’s yours,” she began. “Robert Bixby Parker. You wrote your name in the inside cover. You bought it to make notes for a book, but its blank — you’ve been too busy to put anything in it.”

“Very good,” I said. I took the notebook from her, opened it, and showed her my name and the date on the inside of the cover, the blank pages that made up the rest of the book. Then I put it away, took out something else.

“Try this.”

Again, she cupped it in her hands, her eyes closed. Then she shuddered, pushed it back at me.

“No! How could you…”

“You are investigating,” I said somewhat sternly. “You need to know what this object is, what it has done.”

“All right,” she said as she cupped her hands around it again.

“A bullet. It took a life. An innocent. A young boy, out playing. He was shot, just for being where he was — it wasn’t a gun, it was a stick. He was — pretending to be a policeman, a good guy. He was practicing to be a policeman when he grew up. He came around the corner, just playing, and ended in the middle of a stand-off.”

She looked at me, compassion in her eyes.

“You challenged him, and then you shot.”

“Yes,” I said, taking the bullet back. “I’ve carried it ever since, to remind me — to remind me to think before shooting.”

She glanced at the front of the car where O’Halloran sat looking straight ahead, giving us our privacy for our ‘meeting’. Then she reached out and touched me lightly on the cheek.

“I understand.”

“It was because of that boy, I began an anonymous fund to help the families of those I had shot or killed,” I said.

By the time we reached Shrewsbury, Corey was able to discover more about me by practicing her newfound talent on everything I had in my shoulder bag.