Hunter (17 page)

"Oh, I kicked over a rock somewhere," said Davenport, "and he just crawled out."

They all laughed. Morgan was relieved by the distraction. It was good to see Davenport in this setting; it introduced a new layer to his picture of the man whom he held in such high regard. The warmth Davenport displayed in their company was indicative of his loyalty and utter devotion to those closest to him. It was no surprise as far as Morgan was concerned. It was exactly what he had expected but not yet seen in the old man.

"Now my dears, it's an opportune moment for young Morgan and I to depart and leave you both in peace. Wouldn't you say, Alex?"

"Of course," Morgan lied. The last thing he wanted to do was leave. Since they'd arrived he hadn't had a moment alone with Charly. He wanted to steal five minutes in private to see how she was doing. It looked like that chance had just passed him by.
Fuck it.

"Oh no you don't, Davenport,' Charly declared reproachfully. She stood, gathering up the last of the dessert plates. "It's only nine o'clock. I'm going to make tea and coffee. You and Mom are going to sit in there and catch up." She gestured toward a small sitting room that faced out toward Puget Sound. "And, I'm going to have some time with our guest."

There is a God,
thought Morgan.

"Aren't I a guest, too?" asked Davenport, his voice full of rejection.

"You're part of the furniture in this family, Uncle Nobby," she said, then kissed him on the forehead to placate the mock hurt written all over his face. "Now, shoo. My new favorite GI Joe action figure here can help me clear this table."

Madeline Clancy and General Davenport happily acquiesced and, taking the last of their wine with them, moved into the sitting room.

"He's a delightful young man, Nobby. So noble and full of fire," Madeline began. "Exactly like you and Peter at that age, as I recall."

"He's my best man, my dear, which is exactly why I chose him to find Charlotte."

Madeline smiled, sipped from her wine glass and looked across with great affection at one of her oldest friends.

"Peter would be so grateful to you," she said, almost in a whisper. "He gave up so much for me, you know. His career and so on."

"He did it without a second thought, Madeline," Davenport replied truthfully. "You meant the world to him."

"I know, dear." She paused for a moment. "When Charly came along he was absolutely besotted; the two of them were like peas in a pod from the very beginning. Even though my work kept me away from home a lot, all those long hours and whatnot, I always knew Charly would be OK because she had Peter."

"And her music!" said Davenport. "Peter was so proud of her."

"She misses him terribly. We both do. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to her. She's all I have."

Davenport remained quiet.

"Nobby, I'm not allowed to say this but I'll say it anyway. We've got to catch that reprehensible bastard, Drago. I know we don't have any actual proof that he was behind Guy's murder or Charly's abduction but by God we both know that he was. When I think of all those poor souls who come before the tribunal as witnesses to the atrocities of the war, what they've been through ... well, he has to answer for what he's done, once and for all. It's not right that he's managed to elude us all this time. Enough is enough."

Half an hour later, Morgan was with Charly in the upstairs sitting room. She was finishing a green tea while tinkering at an old drinks cabinet, as Morgan enjoyed a strong black coffee. He stood looking out across Puget Sound, enjoying the occasional flickers of light from boats trundling past. The mountains had all but disappeared, the dark cloak of evening pulled across them. Thankfully, winds at high altitude were shunting clouds across the sky like carriages in a railway yard, allowing the full brightness of the moon to flash through the gaps, offering brief but sensational glimpses of the mountain tops.

"Beautiful;' he said.

"Well, aren't you just the charmer," said Charly playfully, walking back over. "It is beautiful, though. My favorite view in the whole world is right there."

She sidled up beside him, contentedly. Morgan instantly felt charged by her closeness within the quiet privacy of the room. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

"I can see why," he said.

"Here you go, major;' she said with a wink, handing him a short, fat crystal glass with ice cubes clinking within a pool of Irish whisky and cream liqueur. "I developed a taste for this in Australia during a concert tour a couple of years ago. Thought you might appreciate a nightcap."

"Ah, Baileys. I know it well. You read my mind," replied Morgan.

He put down his coffee and took the glass from her. Their fingers touched. It was electrifying. Charly caught her breath.

"You know, contact like that." She looked up at him mischievously. "You better be careful. I could take you down, right now."

"Oh, is that right?" he said, responding to the challenge in her voice. "Should I be worried?"

"Well, I haven't been sitting around on my tush all this time, Morgan. I've been getting some serious self-defense lessons from the marshals. It's been great!"

"That's fantastic," he said, genuinely. "Great skills to know and it's good for you at the same time. How did that come about?"

"I was talking to the girl who runs all these guys about what she does; she's really kickass. Anyway, I asked her about her training, one thing led to another and, now the team knows that whoever's on shift, they take it in turns to run me through some moves. Ever since the kidnapping ... well, I just want to know how to get myself out of dangerous situations, you know? I've had quite a few sessions. I'm getting pretty good."

Charly fell silent for a moment, deep in thought as Keith Emerson's "Piano Concerto No. 1" played quietly in the background. They both took a drink. Morgan enjoyed the soothing warmth of the liqueur. It was an old favorite, familiar and comforting. For a moment he was a young lieutenant again, serving with the battalion in East Timor in '99. He recalled it vividly, sitting on an ammunition box back in Dili
after a few long days on patrol, tin mug in hand, drinking warm Baileys one of the boys had managed to scrounge from some aid workers. Then Charly's soft voice gently broke the silence.

"After what happened to me," she began, "you know, I felt like I just had to do more to take care of myself."

"How are you really doing, Charly?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately but took him by the hand and led him back to a long sofa at the back of the room that would, he was sure, command a magnificent view of the Sound during daylight. They sat together, close.

"Alex, I need to ask you something but I'm a little, actually I'm
very
uncomfortable about it. God! I don't know where to begin."

"Ask me anything." Morgan replied. "Take your time."

Charly brought a hand up to her heart and took a deep breath. Morgan couldn't take his eyes off her.

"It's about Raoul, the man I was with when we were kidnapped," Charly began, blushing unexpectedly. "I know you're not allowed to talk about these things. It's your work and all ..."

Her voice trailed off and she turned her eyes away from Morgan and looked out into the darkness.

"I'm afraid there's still no news, Charly," Morgan offered. For some reason, despite the fact that her boyfriend was still missing, he felt an adolescent twinge of jealousy. What the hell was he thinking? "It's clear you were separated once you hit dry land. You were taken north, of course. But, we've had absolutely no luck with regard to Raoul. Interpol has taken the lead 
on finding him now. Our only priority was to get you back and arrest the people responsible."

"Because of the impact on Mom?"

"Yes," he said frankly. "When an ICTY judge is threatened or somehow at risk, it's our responsibility to sort it out."

"But aren't you Interpol, too?"

"Charly, I really can't talk about that."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I understand. I just feel so guilty about Raoul and I guess I'm hoping I can get something done to find him."

"Why would you feel guilty?" Morgan asked, suddenly thinking of Arena Halls. Damn it! Was that a pang of guilt or regret over her? No. Arena had been the one to close things down, not Morgan. "Interpol is still giving it priority. There's nothing you can do."

"I know, but the further this whole shocking episode gets behind me, the less I think about him. I mean, we hardly knew each other at all. That was the whole purpose of the trip, I guess." She searched for an appropriate way to explain it all that hopefully wouldn't be completely humiliating in front of Morgan. "I mean, I'd been taking things slowly with him at first but, as much as he seemed keen to ... move things along—" she blushed at her own choice of words, "—he didn't really deliver. Oh God, that sounds really terrible. I mean, nothing ever happened—"

Morgan smiled politely. "You don't have to tell me this stuff, you know."

"Anyway, now that I'm home and I'm safe and then," she looked up at him in a way that betrayed her,
^"
—am I a terrible person?"

"Charly, it's obvious you still have genuine concern for his safety. But I suppose, based on what you've said, the two of you were in the early stages of getting to know each other when this happened."
At least I hope it had only gone that far.
"The fact that you care enough to make sure people are still looking for him is testament to your character. There's no need for you to feel guilty and I don't think you're a terrible person, at all." He meant it. In fact, in Charly's company, he realized that his own memories of Arena were retreating. That didn't mean he didn't still care for her, in some way. It was just life. Whatever the circumstances, when you have to, you move on.

"Thank you," she said, much more at ease. "You have a disarming knack for making everything seem OK. I've not been able to talk about any of it since—" She stopped, collecting her thoughts again. "I mean, I've been seeing a shrink here at the house. Mom insisted; Nobby, too, I'm sure. And she's been great. I'm beginning to feel much better. But I couldn't bring myself to just talk about it, other than how it made me feel. How would a complete stranger understand what I'd been through? But after sitting beside you at dinner, I felt like I could talk to you about all of it."

"Sometimes strangers are the best ones to talk to; especially professionals. You have no baggage or boundaries with them and they're skilled in guiding you through your thoughts." Morgan spoke from experience. "But, in lieu of a professional, I'm here. If you need to download, you can."

"I don't consider you a stranger at all."

A candle flickered and Charly's eyes sparkled, capturing every note of orange brilliance from the flame's 
delicate outburst. She sat less than a foot away from Morgan, resting her head on her arm, perched on the back of the sofa. She pushed a hand unaffectedly through her hair and a trail of red curls tumbled down over her shoulder, falling like scarlet silk upon her chest.

Morgan was getting seriously distracted. He was enjoying the Baileys but mostly he was enjoying watching and listening.

"When I was taken to that cave, I honestly thought I was going to die," she began. "Those men were such animals, Alex. I still can't believe the things they said to me, what they wanted to do to me, what was in store for me. Every moment I was expecting ... the worst."

Morgan's eyes asked the question.

"No," she answered. "They were happy to hit me but, apart from one of them putting his hands on me when I was tied up in the back of the car—" she shuddered, "—they didn't try to touch me that way; just lots of talk. Thank God it never came to anything more." She took a drink.

"They were locals, Charly. Paid to hold you for somebody else. Of course, you weren't to know that."

"And you said a while ago that they had taken me to get to Mom. Is that right?"

"We're almost certain of it. Your mum has really led the charge against the last few guys who've been eluding the tribunal. Since she's been president of the ICTY, three of the biggest targets have been arrested, leaving only Drago Obrenovic still at large. He's desperate to keep it that way and he'll stop at nothing to make sure of it."

"But what could they hope to gain by taking me?"

"When their first attempt on Madeline failed, a wall of security was literally dropped around her and the other judges overnight." He gestured outside, referencing the team of US marshals who were on protection duty out there 24/7. "Making it impossible for these guys to try another direct attempt on her, or the other judges for that matter. We believe that by taking you they would have hoped to somehow lure Madeline out from behind the perimeter. We're not sure exactly how they planned to do it - a ransom drop, or whatever - because, thankfully, we stopped it in time."

Charly nodded and gently brushed his leg in a comfortable, familiar display of gratitude.

"That doesn't mean they won't try again," he added. "That's why all this security has to stay in place until we at least have Obrenovic in custody."

"I was horrified at what happened to that one the others called boss," she said. "I mean, I turned away, I couldn't stand to watch. I was terrified. But I knew what happened." Morgan nodded. "It's strange, because when I realized that he was dead, I actually felt good. In a bizarre way, I felt that I'd been protected by that big ape who came in and - took me away."

Morgan was amazed at how well she was holding it together. He was about to tell her so when she stood up, walked to the drinks cabinet, grabbed a handful of ice and returned with the bottle of Baileys. She dropped ice into their glasses and gave them both a generous top up. Charly clinked her glass against his with a wink and sat back down, closer than before.

"There's something else I was going to ask you 
about," she said. "But, for some reason it escapes me. Shit! It was important, too."

"Well, leave it for a moment and it may come back to you."

"Yeah, good idea." She took a sip of her drink. "When you appeared in that plane - my God! I had no idea what was going on. But something told me that you were there for me. I just knew it."

"How did you know? I must have looked like a bloody madman."

She laughed. "Oh, you did, that's for damn sure. But when I was growing up, this house was filled with my dad's closest friends. We always had visitors from his days in the army. Men like Uncle Nobby." She paused. "Men like you. I always felt so safe. So cared for and protected. I can spot 'em. I guess I just forgot what they looked like. And then you came along."

Morgan shifted self-consciously. "It's what we're trained to do, Charly."

"No, Alex Morgan, it's more than that. It's who you are. That's what I saw in your eyes." Now she was getting self-conscious. She changed tack. "When you disappeared out that door, I was sure you'd been killed. But sure enough, there you were later that night, like it was all in a day's work."

He laughed. "Working for your Uncle Nobby, it pretty much is."

Charly shuffled over the last few inches between them and nestled herself comfortably against him. Her body felt so soft and fragile and the aroma of Lady Vengeance perfume that enveloped him was seductive.

"Do you mind?" she whispered from his chest. "I just want to be held."