The Guardian's Wildchild (39 page)

Butchart swallowed. He hoped Madame hadn’t discovered the link between him and the prisoner. “Yes, Madame.”

“Frank, you assured me she would be executed. She has knowledge of the file and probably its contents. Therefore, she must be terminated. It’s unfortunate the pirates were unable to capture her and complete the execution. Contact Commander Moon and direct him to ensure Miss Davenport remains in solitary confinement. You’re certain he’ll refuse to carry out the execution?”

“Yes, Madame. His authority doesn’t allow it. However, Commander Moon will ensure the prisoner won’t be allowed out of her cell.”

“No problem. I’ll destroy that creature once the
Nonnah
arrives in New Seattle. And now Waterhouse is about to be eliminated. You keep Admiral Garland in line. Don’t disappointment me, Frank!”

Butchart mustered his courage. “Madame, perhaps we should postpone the demonstration. The scientists have had some success, but — ”

“We’ll continue as planned. Even a minor demonstration will start the process of shifting power from the global energy giants. The crystals will work for me.”

“Madame, the shift of power will be phenomenal and quick. We need to consider whether we’re prepared for the hostility that will surely erupt.”

Madame laughed. “Yes, there will bloodshed. Quite a lot I expect.” After a brief silence, she asked, “Frank, are you keeping something from me?”

Butchart’s hands perspired. His face twitched as pain descended upon his eyes. “Just concerned for your safety, Madame.”

The comlink connection was broken.

Although Sam’s navy blue t-shirt and shorts had a small navy logo on them, he hoped to be able to melt into the crowd and be just a dad for the day. The boys and Perkins jumped into Sam’s vehicle, and sped away from the mansion to the wharf.

When the sailing tournament neared the final competitions, they looked for a better vantage point from which to view their favorite, the
Storm Blazer
. Grabbing their hotdogs and drinks, they found a row of seats in the dome covered bleachers and sat down. They spread themselves out, taking all available room and forcing Perkins to sit a few rows higher. To their dismay, two other men climbed up to their row and asked if they could sit beside them. Reluctantly, they shifted to make extra space and allowed the two strangers to sit down. At least it was better than having Perkins right there.

“Great day, isn’t it?” one of the men asked Sam.

Sam simply nodded, trying to discourage any further conversation.

Undaunted, the stranger continued. “Yep, great day for sailing or doing just about anything except mountain climbing — too hot. Tomorrow should be better for that. Ever try mountain climbing?”

Sam shook his head. “No.” He tried to look preoccupied with the race brochure.

“Didn’t figure so. Don’t look like the mountain climbing type. These your boys?”

Sam once again tried to discourage the talkative stranger and only replied with, “Uh huh.” He glanced back at Perkins to see if he was taking any special interest in the stranger. He was. It presented an opportunity to rankle the guard.

Sam turned his attention to the stranger. He appeared to be perhaps in his late twenties and handsome in a boyish way. Brown curly hair rested on his shoulders. His brown eyes were bright, and his direct gaze was kind yet intense.

Sam turned to his boys. “You boys like to go mountain climbing tomorrow?”

“Can’t, Dad. School tomorrow.”

“Oh yes, sorry. I forgot.” He looked back at the stranger. “Well, I tried. So you climb mountains, Mr … ?”

“Danik Davenport.” Danik presented his right hand to shake. Sam hesitated momentarily before grasping it. Danik gripped slightly longer than necessary, peering not just into Sam’s eyes, but beyond. After completing his scan, Danik grinned and shifted his hand in Sam’s, creating a friendly clutch as brothers might.

“This is my friend Ryan. And you?” Danik asked.

“Sam Waterhouse.” For the first time since joining the American Naval Academy, Sam omitted his rank. He was now, and forever more would be, only Samaru Waterhouse. “It would seem we have a mutual friend.”

“Uh huh. About that mountain climbing, I do quite a bit. But then, you probably know that by now. Some sailing, flying … ”

Sam felt drawn in to Danik’s easy manner. He glanced back to Perkins who was eyeing him suspiciously. Sam lowered his voice. “Better not provoke him.” He half-turned his head to indicate the guard. Keeping his voice down and his head pointed forward he continued talking with Danik.

“Flying? You’re a pilot?”

“Both Ryan and I fly helicopters. Rescue sailors off mountains,” he said chuckling and nudging Sam in the ribs. “We’ve got plans to go over with you later. Not to worry, Sam, I’ll find you. Have a nice day.”

Danik and Ryan got up and descended the bleachers before Sam could respond.

Aboard the
Nonnah
that same Sunday morning, Moon opened the door to Sidney’s cell and stepped in. She stood up immediately, sensing something was wrong.

Moon studied her face and smiled. “Remember when I told you that you were a fool not to have followed through with your escape attempt?”

Sidney frowned. “Seems to me, sir, that you said I was naïve.”

“Sidney, Sidney, I’m wondering if perhaps I’ve misjudged you.” He reached to touch her hair. She stepped back. “It’s unfortunate the captain dug so deeply into your secrets. It appears you’re about to become the hottest thing up for grabs.”

Sidney stood tall. “Can you be more precise, Commander?”

“No. Suffice it to say that you won’t be allowed to leave this room under any circumstances and no one will be allowed to enter — except for me, of course.”

She nodded. “I see. Business as usual.”

Moon scowled. “Business is about to conclude, miss.”

After getting a late morning call from Clay on Monday morning, Sam went to the café to meet him. The detective pushed the bag containing Sidney’s gloves and shoes toward him.

“Discover anything?” Sam asked.

“Interesting. Actually, fascinating, Sam. Any guesses what we found, just for the fun of it?”

“Okay, the grease on the gloves is a lubricant. Close?”

“Dead on, Sam. The shoes have a variety of material on the soles and canvas tops. Scuff marks on the side of one shoe indicates something, perhaps metal, banged away at it for a while. Can’t tell exactly what, though.”

“That’s not exactly fascinating, Clay. You got more?”

“Uh huh. Lab took a few samples from the inside of the gloves, traces of cells that had been sloughed off from the skin of the wearer. You know what they found?”

Sam sat back and considered the answer to Clay’s question. He grinned. “Pixie dust?”

“Damn near. Turned the whole lab into frenzy. Damn it all, Sam, people started asking questions about where I got the gloves. Damn scientists are all worked up and want some kind of explanation. The boss is now on my case. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Sam looked off into the distance. “Ever watch tugboats, Clay?”

“No. Sam, focus. What’s this all about?”

“Tugboats are little boats that get big boats out of trouble. Suppose you first tell me what the lab found?”

“I think you know what the lab found. You first, sailor.”

“Okay, Clay. The lab probably found that the cells were unusually healthy and resilient, for one. For another, they’re able to maintain their integrity longer than usual without physical or environmental support. And, perhaps, they’re the most genetically perfect cells they’ve ever seen. Have I covered it?”

“Pretty much.” Clay drummed the table with his fingers. “You said her name is Sidney Davenport. Are you gonna tell me exactly who this pixie is?”

Sam laughed. “Actually, she’s no sweet little pixie. She stubborn as hell, manipulative, has little respect for authority, doesn’t live by any code of conduct that I’ve heard of. And
rule
, now, there’s a four letter word. And did I mention she has a temper? If you accuse her of lying — look out! Furthermore, she has this thing for picnics.”

“Picnics?”

“Yes. Two kinds.”

Clay’s eyebrows were raised. “Two kinds?”

Sam was about to respond when he became conscious that he’d just opened up a space in his heart. A space reserved for only one. A space that was now occupied by a tall slender woman with long brown hair framing a beautiful face. Pale green eyes that sparkled with vitality and an uncommon wisdom. Her smile tipped his boat over each and every time. Her power was soft yet apparently stronger than his determination to shut her out.

Clay waved his hands in front of Sam. “Hello. Anybody home?”

“Sorry, Clay. Got lost there for a second.” Sam smiled. “How can I help you straighten out this business with the lab?”

“Hell, don’t you worry about that. Been around long enough to know how to
fix
things. Just wanted to know who or what this creature is. Are you in any trouble — I mean, more than usual?”

Sam chuckled. “Better keep on the alert for an admiral gone over the edge.”

“Serious?”

“Don’t go getting your gun greased up. Nothing should involve you or the police force directly. But I do intend to get full custody of my boys.”

“How?”

Sam looked at his watch. “Gotta run.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and gave Clay a thumbs up before dashing out of the café.

Once Sam was out of sight, Clay activated his comlink and waited for the response.

“Hello?” replied the man.

“Perkins, can you talk?”

“Yeah, Clay. Thought you wouldn’t call unless it was urgent.”

“Listen, Perkins, Sam’s got something up his sleeve. Looks like he’s making a move to get his kids back. Just stick close to the kids until Butchart’s ready to make his move. Clear?”

“Yes, sir. Have you seen Double D?”

“No, but no doubt he’s around. Keep your radar up, Perk.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clay left the café hopeful that Sam would call later and reveal more of his plans.

23. Madness and Clarity

Afternoon, July 15, New Seattle