The Last Refuge (21 page)

Drew had told me a little bit about the incident in Swosa, but I wanted to get details from Amy. ‘Did he ever fully explain to you why he's on the run? I figure it has to be more than wanting the insurance money.'

‘If the Navy found out he was alive after all this time, he'd be subject to courts martial. In Swosa? Drew was the triggerman. The Swosians had closed-circuit TV in the bedroom at the palace, so they got it all on tape. If the Swosa loyalists knew Drew had escaped, they would be all over him, too. Alive, everyone would be out to get him. Dead.' She shrugged. ‘Dead is better.'

‘There were tapes?' Drew hadn't mentioned that. Possibly he didn't know.

‘You bet. When the Navy were shown the tapes, they were embarrassed, but at least they don't have to parade Drew out before a congressional subcommittee to explain why he murdered a foreign national when he wasn't authorized to do so. And the Swosians believe that the triggerman died with all the others when one of their brave boys shot down the helicopter after being fatally wounded himself. With Drew dead, no loose ends. On either side.'

‘As long as he stays dead.' I set my empty broth cup back down on the tray.

‘Right.' Amy took the tray from where it rested on my knees and set it on the floor outside the service entrance to my room. ‘Dex!' she yelled down the service stairway. ‘Come fetch the tray!'

While she waited for Dex to appear, Amy said, ‘I don't need the money, not desperately, but Drew does, and since he's dead, he needs me to get it for him.' She held the door open, occasionally checking for Dex over her shoulder. ‘
He
can move to Argentina as far as I'm concerned. Once the money comes to me, I'll send it all to some bank account in Buenos Aires.' She flashed a smile. ‘But don't tell Drew that. He still thinks I'm coming with him.'

‘Amy, if the authorities find out you've done that,
you
could go to jail for fraud.'

‘Nobody will find Drew unless he wants them to. I'm convinced of that. Losing his parents at an early age made him tough.'

‘He's AWOL, big time. Isn't he worried that he'll be caught?'

‘Not Drew. Remember that line in
The Right Stuff
where Dennis Quaid is driving a convertible and asks his wife who's the best pilot she's ever seen, and that she's looking at him? Well, that's Drew. He pumps up his abs and says, “I'm a U.S. Navy SEAL. I'm trained not to be caught.”'

‘I can believe that,' I said. ‘He made it out of Swosa alive, and not many men would be able to accomplish that. Did he tell you the story? It's been more than ten months. Why did it take him so long?'

‘Naturally, he had no money, no passport. He was on foot. It took him weeks to make his way out of Swosa and over the border into Tanzania. Eventually, he ended up in Dar es Salaam, where he hung out on the beach with all the other ex-pats until he hooked up with an American sailboat captain looking for crew. The guy was circumnavigating, and in no hurry, so Drew simply signed on. I gather the lack of a passport wasn't a problem.' She grinned. ‘Drew can be pretty convincing. When the boat finally made it to the U.S., Drew jumped ship and disappeared into a crowd of tourists in Charleston. That was a month ago. He's been hiding out in that hotel by the airport ever since, keeping an eye on me, making plans.'

There'll be a
New York Times
bestseller out of this, I thought, by Drew Cornell as told to whom? Tom Clancy? Or maybe it'd be the other way around: BY TOM CLANCY and
drew cornell
. A movie later, I'll bet, produced by, directed by and starring Tom Cruise. An EA computer game. The possibilities were endless.

Watching Amy bustle about my bedroom, tending to my wrinkled gowns, straightening up, rather than being holed up in a hotel room with a sex-starved fugitive made me enormously happy. ‘I'm so glad you're back,' I said, as she helped me change into a clean, white shift that smelled like fresh soap and sunshine.

Since Amy had broken more clauses in her contract than a shady real-estate developer, I wondered why Jud Wilson had agreed to let her come back. Was Derek right? Was Amy too mediagenic a ‘product' to let slip through their fingers?

‘What happened after you left Drew?'

‘He gave me some cash, put me in a cab, and the cab brought me here. I simply walked in through the kitchen door.'

‘Brazen hussy.'

‘Damn right! Karen gave me a big hug, but I must have set off an alarm somewhere because Jud Wilson appeared after about fifteen minutes and marched me into the conference room. You should see it, Hannah! Long walnut table, upholstered chairs. Very deluxe.'

‘I can imagine. So, what did you tell him?'

‘When he asked why I'd run away, I lied. Karen told me that Jack had once cornered her in the kitchen, so I said he'd made a pass at me, too. Said I freaked. I told Jud I didn't think I could hack it, being recently widowed and all, so I took a few days off to think.'

I wasn't exactly in love with Jack, but still, pinning a sexual harassment charge on the jerk seemed a little harsh. ‘Amy, you didn't!'

Amy puffed air. ‘You know what Jud told me? They knew all about the incident between Jack and Karen, too. Seems Jack snuck down to the kitchen one night where Karen caught him red-handed eating a piece of pie with his fingers, right out of the pie plate. He was a little tipsy, and he backed Karen into the corner. Smeared cherry pie juice all over her breast before she clocked him with a rolling pin.'

I laughed out loud at the picture.

‘They caught it all on tape, Hannah. Jud said the viewers were going to
love
the way Karen told him off. If she'd been a real slave, he told me, she'd have been whipped after that. Probably ended up on the auction block, too.'

I cringed, thinking how glad I was to be living in the twenty-first century. ‘I can't wait to see how the show comes out when it finally goes on the air.'

‘At least I won't be watching it from Buenos Aires.'

‘Tell me something,' I said later as Amy was brushing my hair. ‘You mentioned that Drew's new name is Donald. What's the name on your fake passport?'

‘Angela,' she said. ‘Angela Clark. Do I look like an Angela to you?'

‘Probably to Drew you did.'

‘In his dreams.'

‘I want some toothpaste! Can you hear me, Founding Father? A fringed stick dipped in lemon juice and salt is simply not going to cut it.'

Hannah Ives

W
ednesday dawned sunny and unseasonably warm. For the first time in three days, I was able to get out of bed, get dressed – with Amy's help, to my great relief – and join the family for breakfast.

Melody leapt to her feet when I entered the dining room, fairly bounced across the carpet and smothered me with a hug. ‘Mrs Ives! You're all well!'

My stomach muscles were still sore from two days of vomiting, and I tried not to wince as I untangled myself from her embrace. I smiled, looked into her emerald eyes and tapped her on the chin with my index finger. ‘Thank you. I'm glad to be back, too, Melody.'

Melody grabbed my hand and led me around the table to my customary chair. She dragged it out from the table and helped scoot it back in after I sat down.

Gabe glanced up from his porridge. ‘We're going to see the burning of the
Peggy Stewart
today, Mrs Ives. It's a big ship with a lot of tea on it.'

I helped myself to a soft boiled egg. ‘Are you, now?'

‘Are you coming, too?' Melody asked as she reclaimed her own seat.

Jack looked up from his paper, another facsimile of the
Maryland Gazette
. ‘Now, Melody, don't you overtax Mrs Ives. Remember, she's been ill.'

‘I feel very well, thank you, Mr Donovan. And I'm very much looking forward to the burning of the
Peggy Stewart
. The last time I saw a boat go up in flames, it was in Cambridge, Maryland.' I winked at Melody. ‘It wasn't exactly planned.'

I had captured Gabe's attention, too. ‘What happened to it?'

‘Gas fumes had built up in the engine compartment. When the captain turned the key to start the engine, there was a spark.
Kaboom!
Fortunately, he was able to jump overboard.'

Gabe turned to his father, eyes wide. ‘Are they going to burn a real boat?'

‘I don't know, son. Do you, Mrs Ives?'

I whacked the top off my egg with the edge of my knife. ‘I have absolutely no idea, having been out of the loop for a couple of days, but LynxE isn't particularly tight-fisted with their dollars – can you imagine how much they had to pay to get David Morse to play George Washington? So it'll probably be quite a production.'

‘What shall I wear, Mrs Ives?' Melody wanted to know.

‘The dress you wore to church on Sunday would suit, I should think. The pink one with all the bows?'

‘And you should wear your blue, Mrs Ives. The one with the ruffles running down the front and the tiny seed pearls. I think that's
so
beautiful!'

‘Why, thank you.' I leaned closer and whispered, ‘Shall we leave our wigs at home, then?'

‘Oh, yes, please, Mrs Ives. It itches like crazy.'

‘We'll save them for the ball.' I salted my egg and dug in, not realizing how hungry I was until I was scraping the inside of the shell and looking around for another one. Jack passed me the biscuits with ham when I asked for them, and I was happily munching away when Alex said, ‘Women often think that men aren't particularly interested in fashion, Miss Donovan, but may I suggest that I'm the exception? For the outing today, I'll be wearing a pale blue suit with silver braid and I'll have a matching blue cockade on my hat.' While Melody stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, he continued. ‘And I'm honored to say, that Miss Amy Cornell has agreed to accompany me.'

‘Cool!' Melody cooed.

My mouth was half ajar, too, thinking, too much, too soon, Amy. You're treading on dangerous ground. What if Drew . . . ? I pushed the thought away. ‘Are you coming, too, Michael?' I asked instead.

‘Indeed I am. I imagine the whole household will be there.' He waved a fork. ‘Founding Father says.'

Jack took a sip of coffee. ‘Mrs Ives,' he said. ‘Normally I would have consulted you first, but since you were, uh, indisposed, I told the servants they could have the day off.'

‘Perfectly appropriate, Mr Donovan,' I said. ‘From noon on?'

‘Exactly.'

‘I'll speak to Karen, then, about laying out a cold buffet this evening.'

‘I already took the liberty.' He stood, laid his napkin on the table. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have some accounts to take care of.'

One by one, they left the table, leaving me to savor my coffee alone. I can't say that I minded.

Later, following a trip to the privy, I finally had a chance to check the wall where I'd left the message in the bottle for Paul all those days ago.

To my delight, the bottle was gone.

It seemed like the entire state of Maryland had turned up for the burning of the
Peggy Stewart
, which had taken place exactly two-hundred-thirty-eight years before. For the Patriot House residents, on the other hand, yesterday was today: October 19, 1774.

We gathered in the hallway – chatting and giggling in anticipation – and left the house together just as the long case clock was striking two. Jack Donovan, Patriot, in the lead, looked resplendent (I admitted reluctantly) in his black wool suit, wearing a tricorn hat over his powdered wig and carrying a cane. I scooted along behind, followed by Melody who did her best to mind her little brother while at the same time curtseying and waving to the crowds like a royal bride.

Alex strolled alongside Amy, Michael (I was pleased to see) escorted French, Jeffrey strutted on bravely alone, poor thing, followed by Karen and her son, Dex, who kept running ahead, wild with excitement, so she had to keep herding him back.

We proceeded en masse toward the harbor, along streets thronged with people, both residents and tourists, many of whom had turned up wearing colonial costumes. By now, it was no secret what was going on at Patriot House. Gawkers often gathered on the street outside the house, cameras at the ready. We were used to it.

Cameras were out in force – Derek and Chad had been supplemented by two additional cameramen from LynxE – and the boys in black had competition from the networks, too. As we pushed through the crowds in V-formation, Jack still in the lead, I caught sight of television crews from WBAL in Baltimore as well as WRC and WJLA in Washington, D.C. Maryland Public TV caught up with us at the corner of Dock Street and Randall, and no matter where we were, cell phone cameras recorded our every move.

The area around the Market House and City Dock had been cordoned off using the same portable chain link fencing used for the two annual boat shows – sailing and power – that had concluded the previous two weekends respectively. Only appropriately-costumed spectators were allowed inside.

As we marched down City Dock, costumed vendors dressed especially for the occasion popped up everywhere, roaming the streets and handing out stick candy to the crowds. I watched as a pair of pint-sized Davy Crockets grabbed more than their share of the sweet, then offered pieces to Gabe and Dex as we paraded by. (An offer they couldn't refuse!)

‘Where are we going to stand?' Gabe asked me as he ripped the waxed paper off his candy and stuck the end in his mouth.

‘On the dock, I think, over there,' I said, pointing in the direction of the Harbor Queen tour boat where a white canopy at water's edge was decked with bunting decorated with the familiar LynxE logo.

‘Oh, goody. Maybe I can sit down. My feet are killing me,' Melody complained.

But there were no chairs, only shade. Being under the canopy afforded a bit of relief from the crowds pressing in around us, however, while at the same time putting us on display.