The Paths of Destiny

December 19, 2001:

Location: Headquarters, UNO-SPJ, The Embankment, London, England.

Outside: A cold, crisp winter’s day.

Inside: An increasingly grumpier Senior Director.

We moved into the renovated office on the sixth-floor last week. Things had been rearranged. Along with my office on the fourth floor, I had a small desk and computer in Reese’s office.

Earlier today, I was sitting there working at the computer and keeping a surreptitious eye on Corey as she shuffled papers, made phone calls and barked orders — completely unlike her, that last.

Finally, she stood, pushed both hands through her hair, causing it to stand on end. She’d been letting it grow, I could see. Still above her shoulders, it now curled softly around her face, giving her a much more feminine look. I suspected she’d been straightening it, and these soft waves were more natural.

“This place is driving me crazy! Why I ever agreed... I need to get out of here! Come on!” She vanished into the bedroom.

I had shown her the secret of the elevator sometime previously, and — in her present mood — I couldn’t risk her slipping away without an escort. No telling what she’d get up to...

As I entered, she stripped unselfconsciously to her underwear, and then pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a light sweater. She then turned to regard me, hands on hips.

“You’ll do.”

For once, I wasn’t in uniform, having opted that day for a sports shirt and pants.

She threw me my leather jacket, picked up her own, and headed for the back door.

The Triumph was parked not far from the elevator door in the third sub-basement, helmets hanging from the handlebars. Corey pulled on her jacket, tossed me my helmet and donned her own. No matter what her mood, she was always scrupulous about that. Expertly, she dropped the big bike from its stand, started it, and was astride it almost before I had my jacket and helmet on. I hastened to mount before she could leave without me.

We were in for a wild ride, then — I’d seen her in this mood before.

But no. Again, she took me completely by surprise.

The big motorcycle traveled almost sedately down the Embankment and turned into the car park not half a mile from HQ. This car park served one of the many contiguous parks that lined the Embankment. I dismounted and watched as Corey expertly parked the bike then removed her helmet and shook her hair out.

“A walk by the river, Robert.”

We walked along the river in silence for a few moments. I knew she’d be moody during her pregnancy. I’d asked Doc James about what I should expect after Corey requested he give her a physical and swore him to secrecy about any findings. He told me it was a normal part of the process and that I shouldn’t worry. This unusual grumpiness in Corey, however, had me worried.

“Corey,” I said carefully as I walked beside her. “What’s got you in such a mood? Christmas is next week. Following that is the two-month anniversary of our wedding. I can understand if the pregnancy is making you moody. However, it shouldn’t make you as grumpy as you’ve been today. I’ve been getting many concerned emails from Nick and the others wondering what’s going on with you. Care to talk about it?”

She linked her arm in mine and then snuggled close. It was just cool enough to give her the excuse. Then she sighed.

“Nothing... and everything. I’m flying a desk again — I’ve always hated that. I’m not used to what I’m doing — this is all still very new to me. I feel like I’m depending on you too much — and at the same time, I feel as though we don’t have enough time together. I’m not used to being pregnant. Its new — and risky. A first baby, at my age...”

I walked quietly with Corey a few moments. I used the time to gather my thoughts before speaking.

“If it’s any consolation,” I said gently. “Doc James is quite certain you’ll have no complications with this baby or any others. He says you’ve the constitution of a woman in her early twenties. If you want a second opinion on that, you could always ask Doc Mallory to give you a once over. Of course, he’d obviously need to be sworn to secrecy as to your condition. For the rest of it, you don’t always have to be at your desk during all your duty hours. Even a Senior Director has the right to some off-duty time during the workday; to just chill out and relax, away from the office. In fact, if I remember my Regulations correctly, all personnel are required to have breaks during their shift. That includes, most especially, those who are stuck within the walls of an office. As for you depending on me too much, you shouldn’t feel that way. You’re too stubborn to allow yourself to get that way. You’ve too much of an independent streak in you for that.”

“Oh, I know that,” she sighed. “It’s just that I feel I’m depending on you. You’ve been here a year longer than I have, so there’s so much more that you already know. Something else that’s scary — Power. I have so much more power now, Robert. I control — and hold responsibility for — the entire SPJ.”

She stopped and turned to me.

“A tank.”

“What?” I said, flabbergasted.

“You once told me that the next time we went to a restaurant you wanted me to borrow a tank. I don’t have to. We could drive down to Uxbridge, commandeer a plane, fly to at least six locations that I know of — and there would be a tank waiting for us to take us to the closest restaurant for dinner.” She smiled. “We’re not going to, of course — but we could.”

“You do realize I was only joking about the tank, right,” I said with a smile as my mind flashed back to our night in Uxbridge. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I tend to say some inane things — without thinking — when things should be serious.”

“I know you were joking, Robert. That’s one of the things that scares me. You were joking — but I could take you seriously, with very little effort on my part.” She waved one hand in the air. “With one phone call, I could have a car here to take us to London Central, a man to take the bike back to HQ, a plane waiting to fly us to... to... Mexico, and a tank waiting to take us to dinner when we got there. One phone call!”

“It seems,” I replied after Corey finished, “that you being worried about abusing your power means you won’t abuse it. I feel I know you well enough to say that with a certainty. However, I’ve been wrong before. But, in this case, I think I’m not. As for your ‘power’ worries,” I continued. “You were chosen for the job because Anton felt you had the right qualifications to handle your duties responsibly. You, obviously, were more than qualified for the job based on your record. I know those records don’t lie, so you don’t need to get into that.”

Corey nodded her head once more before leaning against me again.

“Speaking of records,” I said carefully after a few moments later. “I managed to find out some things about Jack Tarrant. I had Mike Killorn do some snooping around for me. He didn’t understand why I wanted the information. He still doesn’t, but he trusted me enough to cover up all traces of his inquiries. I’ll show you his findings when we get back to the office.”

“Excuse me...” A worried looking woman came up to us. “Excuse me, but... could you help me?”

While we were walking along the pathway, I noticed the woman had been working her way towards us, stopping everyone she met. Now, it seemed, it was our turn.

I looked at Corey before subtly placing myself between the woman and her.

“What help do you need?” I asked, hiding my wariness.

“My daughter is missing. Have you seen her? She’s six years old...” The woman gestured back the way she had come. “We were sitting at the picnic area. I went back to the car to get her a drink and when I came back, she was gone. She’s only six years old...”

“Take us to where she was last seen,” I said. “Also, give us a description of your daughter and her name. Corey, I’ll need you to keep your phone handy. In fact, call Miles or Nick to meet us to keep watch over you two. I’ll need you to stay with this lady while I go searching for her. I won’t leave until one of them gets here. If neither of the two is available, call in Ricky. And before you ask,” I said as Corey opened her mouth. “Someone needs to stay with this woman, and I’d rather it be you. You might be able to pass on anything she thinks of while I go looking for her daughter.”

Corey already had her phone out.

“One phone call, Robert. How many searchers do you want? There are at least 200 people available at the office.”

“As many as we can get,” I replied. “I’d rather not have anyone’s Holiday Season marred because of the loss of a loved one. Too many of these incidents happen in the world as it is.”

She snapped her phone open and pressed speed dial seven.

“Reese. Put me through to Captain O’Halloran, immediately... O’Halloran — Situation Red. No — not me.” She paused, listening. “If you’ll give me the time to explain...”

Corey waited for a moment before continuing.

“That’s better. I’m in the park by the river. Just west of Headquarters. I’m with a woman who has lost her child. A six-year-old girl. No, I’m not alone — Parker’s with me... O’Halloran, this is not about me. A woman, a missing child. I want you here with me. I also want as many people as can be spared — here — now; prepared to search. Yes, that includes divers — we’re on the river, after all. Wait one...”

Reese turned to the woman. “What is your name? What is your daughter’s name? Do you have a picture? I’ll need a description if not...”

She went back to the phone. “Miles? I’ll need an Identikit operator first. Portable copier if we have one.” She listened. “Perfect. I came down to the third car park — we’ll set up there.”

She snapped the phone shut and turned to me.

“We have a command van. Miles is sending it. I’ll meet it at the car park while you go with... What was your name?”

“Grace Nielsen. My daughter’s name is Pamela. She’s six years old, about so high, blonde ringlets, blue eyes... she was wearing blue snow pants and an orange parka. She had brown boots on as well. She was carrying a little brown hand-bag — nothing in it, but she liked to carry one because I do.”

The woman looked at us with hope in her eyes.

“Are you really going to help me look for her?”

“My name is Corey, Grace. This is Robert. We work in that big building over there. Yes — we’re going to help. Robert will go with you to where you last saw Pamela and we’ll start from there.”

I pulled Corey to the side very briefly to make sure she took care of herself. As I did so, I hid a tracer on her I happened to have with me. I wanted to make sure we didn’t have to go looking for her in case something happened between the time I left her and the van arrived.

Call me paranoid. Nevertheless, as I said earlier, no need to mar the Season by losing a loved one.

As soon as Corey headed back to the parking lot, I turned to Grace Nielson.

“Let’s go find your daughter, Ma’am,” I said.

“We were right over here...”

The woman looked around and then set off at a brisk walk. She took me to a small picnic area. One of the tables was set with a tablecloth, two plates, two cups and some sandwiches. The basket was on the ground beside the table.

“I left Pamela to eat her sandwich while I went back to the car to get her something to drink.”

The woman pointed. The picnic table was just below the car park. From what I remembered, it was the fourth car park, one down from where Corey and I had parked.

My cell phone rang.

“Parker,” I answered as I followed Mrs. Nielson to the picnic table.

“Reese. I’m in the car park. I can see the van pulling in now — Miles is driving. Maintain open communications until I get a walkie-talkie to you.”

“Will do,” I said. “I’m at the picnic tables just below the fourth parking lot area if you want to move the command post.”

“Good idea. I’ll have Miles drive — no. I’ll take the bike and follow.” She dropped the still-open phone into her shoulder bag. Moments later, I heard the roar of the bike, and then listened as she maneuvered it out onto the road and into the parking lot above me. Then she took the phone out again.

“Where are you? ... Never mind. I see you.”

I looked up. She was leaning over the rail, waving.

I waved back and waited for her, or someone, to come down with a walkie-talkie. I figured it would be best if I didn’t go off searching until I had it in my hand. In the meantime, I looked for any footprints that would fit the size of a six-year-old.

The van pulled up beside her, and several large men climbed out. The van was a lot larger than I had expected. It was the size of a motor home and seemed to maneuver about as well. O’Halloran had it parked across four parking spaces, hard against the railing. One of the men climbed up the ladder on the back and onto the roof, lugging what looked like a telescope which he proceeded to mount to the roof. The others — all from Disaster Relief, I realized — came down the steps to me.

“Everett Crawford,” their leader saluted smartly, then handed me a walkie-talkie. “Preset. Channel Four. Your orders, sir?”

“First of all, I need a map of this entire area,” I said. “We’ll be searching in pairs going out in a 360-degree search pattern from here. The command post for this operation is here at this picnic table.”

I had all the searchers gather around me as I cleared off part of the picnic table once I had the map. After giving the name and description of the missing girl, I continued.

“We are going to look everywhere. That means turning over every pebble if we must. I want regular check-ins every two minutes. We’ll start out with a 200-yard radius and work our way out at 100-yard radius from there. Remember this is a six-year-old child — don’t rush her if you see her. Notify us immediately and we’ll bring Mrs. Nielson to your location.”

I waited until everyone nodded their understanding.

“I’ll be here at the command post. If it turns out she’s been kidnapped and you find her with her abductor, you are to notify us immediately and follow at a discreet distance. No need to spook them. We’ll come as quickly as possible and ensure all escape routes are blocked in case the abductor tries to run.”

Once again nods of understanding.

“You divers know what to do in regards to searching. I don’t need to tell you your jobs. All you land bound searchers will take no place for granted. If it seems too small for a little girl to fit in, look anyway. You’d be amazed at how kids can get themselves trapped in small spaces. All right people,” I said finally. “Move out and let’s find Pamela.”

Three more vanloads of searchers arrived and were given instructions and then moved out. The divers, all grim-faced and already in wet suits, walked to the railing overlooking the river. One by one, they put on their scuba gear and dropped into the water. Above them, a flag indicated their location.

There were women among the searchers, too. I had paired them as far as possible one man, one woman, so Pamela wouldn’t be frightened. I had also numbered the teams and given them staggered check-in times.

After the first two minutes, the reports started coming in.

“Team One ... nothing yet.”

“Team Two ... nothing yet.”

“Team Three ... possible sighting. A man with a small child, leaving the park about a half-hour ago.”

“Team Three,” I said. “Command. Did the child fit the description? What was the direction and mode of transport? Description of man as well.”

“Child was crying, sir. Gender unknown. Wearing a navy-blue snowsuit, hood was down. Dark hair. Talking to the witness now. The man called him Danny, she thinks. They left from the exit nearest the bus stop, waited at the stop, caught a bus. Westbound, 763. Belgravia, Bessenden Place. Bus left shortly after they got there. Man described as dark-haired, tall... wearing American-looking clothes. Probably jeans and a jacket... yes, that’s right. Also, wearing a backpack of some kind.”

“Team Four ... nothing to report.”

“Team Five ... nothing to report.”

“Team Six ... dive team ... nothing to report.”

“Team Three,” I answered. “Command. The child you described doesn’t match ours. Ours has blonde hair in ringlets, wearing an orange parka, brown boots and blue snow pants. She may or may not have a brown purse in her possession. Good work, however, keep searching.”

I figured if I reiterated the description of the girl, the other teams listening in wouldn’t make the mistake Team Three had. It didn’t hurt to remind everyone, anyway.

“Understood, sir.”

“Parker.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I turned immediately. Director Reese had come down from the car park and was now standing next to the picnic table.

“Just — reporting in.” She sat on the bench.

I nodded and went back to the walkie-talkie.

“Team One ... nothing yet. Proceeding under the bridge, sir.”

“Team Two ... nothing to report.”

“Team Six ... Team Six ... need assistance. Confirm orange over blue?”

“Team Six, this is Command. Confirming Orange over Blue. State your location and detailed description of your target.”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up. However, I wanted to make sure we had the correct child before sending in the mother.

“Wait one... Is the mother nearby, sir? Can she hear this?”

I looked around. Reese had taken the mother by the arm and had led her away, closer to the steps. They went out of earshot. She glanced back at me and frowned, then drew Mrs. Nielson up the steps and towards the command van.

“Team Six, Command,” the radio said urgently. “Repeat, this is Team Six. Come in Command.”

“Team Six, this is Command,” I said calmly. “The mother’s out of earshot for the moment. What’s the situation?”

Inside my guts were roiling. From the urgency of Team Six, this wasn’t going to be a happy conclusion.

“Priority override,” said a new voice... one I knew. “Parker, this is Vallance. Please come to the command center van... immediately.”

“Copy that,” I replied briskly as I turned to Crawford. “Take over the search, Crawford. You know how to get in touch with me.”

Ignoring any salutes, I rushed over to the van. My stomach was in knots, expecting the worst of anything that had Vallance call me away from the search.

As I ran, I saw Corey out of the corner of my eye, still talking to Grace Nielson. Whatever it was, then, didn’t concern her.

I reached the van just as Vallance exited. He took my arm and drew me out of earshot.

“We have a convention in Disaster Aid, Parker. One you evidently haven’t been briefed on,” he said soberly. “No matter how many teams we have out, Team Six is always the dive team.”

I had momentarily forgotten Team Six had reported in as the dive team. As soon as Vallance finished, I softly let out a stream of colorful metaphors in every language I happened to know. The ones Vallance could understand raised his eyebrows higher and higher. Finally, I calmed down enough to look in the direction of Corey and Mrs. Nielson as I raised the walkie-talkie to my mouth, making sure the sound was low enough not to carry beyond Vallance’s position.

“Team Six,” I said woodenly. “Can you save her?”

“If it is her, sir, she’s beyond saving. We have an... item... wedged under the bridge. The current is pretty strong here — we may need equipment.”

I turned back to Vallance.

“Does the Senior Director know about Team Six?”

“I don’t know. She may.”

“Team Six,” I said. “Do what you need to do. I’m authorizing any use of equipment necessary. If she’s within reach, see if you can get some oxygen to her.”

It was a small hope that the girl was still alive. In vain, I hoped the little girl managed to find an air pocket to sustain her long enough for a rescue.

I turned back to Vallance once I got confirmation of my orders from Team Six.

“Ricky,” I said. “I’m gonna need some help if we can’t save the girl. I’ve been on a few rescue missions. But this... this is beyond my expertise.”

“Miguel is standing by back at HQ. Disaster Aid is his section. I left him there because I knew he had full access to anything needed.” He pulled out his cell phone, dialed. “Miguel? Ricky. Possible sighting in the river. Wedged under the bridge. Yes... just East of HQ... Good man.” He turned to me. “He’s on it. We don’t say anything to the mother until we know for sure, right?”

“Yes,” I said as I took a sympathetic look at the mother before turning back to Ricky. “I’d rather have her keep up the hope her child is still alive until we have definite proof.”

“All Teams,” I said. “Keep searching until we have definite confirmation from Team Six.”

“Team One... Team One!! Contact!!”

“Team One,” I said as I jumped on the walkie-talkie. “Confirm identity and give me your location. Team Six, pull that poor soul out of the water. Perhaps, we’ll be able to find some identification and contact the loved ones.”

I know I leapt on Team One’s transmission like a cat that had just caught its prey. However, common sense told me to make sure before rushing off half-cocked.

“A small child, sir. Blonde hair, ringlets, orange parka, blue snow pants. She just came walking up to me and asked me if I was a policeman. We’re under the bridge, just East of HQ, on the walkway. I can see Team Six from my position, and there’s a salvage barge just coming to their location… Identity confirmed, Command. She says her name is Pamela Nielson, and her Mommy told her if she got lost to find a policeman. Apparently, she was attracted by the uniform.”

“Copy that, Team One,” I said not hiding my relief. “Bring Miss Nielson to the Command Post. I’ll have the mother meet you there. All other Teams come on back and aid Team Six with the recovery maneuvers.”

“Thanks for the help Ricky,” I said as I clapped him on the shoulder and headed towards Corey and Mrs. Nielson.

“Mrs. Nielson,” I said when I came within earshot, a smile on my face. “Your daughter’s safe and on her way back with one of my teams. They’ll meet us back at the picnic table.”

Predictably, she burst into tears and I didn’t blame her. If I wasn’t in a position of authority, I would’ve done the same.

Reese took her by the arm and led her back down the steps and over to the picnic table. Someone had provided tea — Reese poured the woman a mug, added sugar — a lot of sugar, and milk, and urged her to drink it.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

A small blonde girl ran up to us.

“Mommy, I walked ever so far away, and when I looked you weren’t there, but the nice policeman brought me back to you! Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be a policeman, too!”

“Policewoman, dear.” Mrs. Nielson hugged her daughter until she squirmed. “I don’t know how I can thank you, sir.”

“Give her all the love and attention you can, Mrs. Nielson,” I said with a smile down at the little girl. “Perhaps, help her make her wish come true in becoming a police officer.”

On impulse, I took off one of my SPJ pins and carefully put it on the little girl.

“There you go, Miss Nielson,” I said with a grin. “You’ve just become the first honorary member of the UNO-SPJ. Wear it with pride.”

I then gave a smart salute to the little girl before turning back to her mother.

“Happy Holidays, Mrs. Nielson,” I said as I gave her one of my business cards. “Call me if you need me for anything. If I can be of help, I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Thank you, sir.” She carefully put the card away, and then they left.

“Good work, Parker,” Reese said as she came up to me. “Senior Commander,” she said to Ricky, whom I hadn’t realized had joined us, “will you take care of the clean up? I think I need to get back to my office... it’s a little chaotic out here.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Ricky looked from her to me, then back again. “What about Team Six?”

“Have them complete the salvage job then report the findings to me. If it is a body, there’s not much we can do, is there?”

“No, Ma’am. Ma’am... is everything all right?”

“Yes. Parker, you’re with me.” She strode towards the Triumph.

“Yes Ma’am,” I said following her with a last look at Ricky.

Given our conversation from earlier and the events of the last hour or so, I knew Corey wasn’t as calm as she seemed. Normally, I was sure, she would’ve stayed at the scene until the cleanup was done. Her devotion to duty would’ve kept her there; no matter what her personal feelings may have been. Her lack of staying, combined with her mood from earlier, was starting to worry me.

She wrestled the bike from its stand, mounted, and started it. I jumped on behind her. West first — predictably — due to London’s one-way system. But she didn’t turn back when she could have. Instead, she kept going west, along the Embankment.

Do you know how difficult it is to hold a conversation on the back of a motorbike? Difficult — it’s impossible. I could only wait for her to make up her mind where we were going.

West — to Lancaster Place. North to, and then past, the Strand. Out onto Aldwych, then up Kingsway, past the London School of Economics, and up to High Holborn. Now she turned East, along High Holborn, Holborn Viaduct, and then — finally — South on Farringdon Street. Farringdon became New Bridge Street, which went over the river. At the South end, though, she turned west again, and entered the underground parking area for SPJ.

The bike came to a halt in the space we’d left earlier. She waited for me to dismount and then turned to me.

“I’ll see you in my office after you’ve changed. You’re out of uniform, Mister.”

She wasn’t smiling.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said crisply as I went to change.

Whatever was bugging her it was more than she was willing to let on — even here in a private part of the parking area. My being out of uniform wasn’t the issue. Otherwise, she would’ve said something this morning.

Once back to her office, I stood at attention in front of her desk… waiting for her to acknowledge my presence. Whether it would be the persona of Corey, Director Reese or whoever, I didn’t know. The not knowing had me wondering if there was an axe man looming, unseen, behind me; Waiting to strike me in the back.

She was sitting behind the desk, elbow on the desk, forehead resting in her left hand. Then, suddenly, she clapped her hand to her mouth, jumped up, and ran for the suite.

I followed her knowing where she was going. Her sudden clap of the hand to her mouth told me all I needed to know. I waited, patiently, for her to finish as I sat on the still made bed in the suite.

Finally, she emerged, pale, drawn.

“Sorry...”

She dropped beside me, leaned into me. I put my arm around her, holding her close — but not too close, in case she had to leave again.

She did.

I waited.

She came back into the bedroom and curled up on the bed, eyes closed. I rubbed her shoulders gently.

“Doc James says it’ll go away eventually,” she said. “I thought getting out in the fresh air would help, but it didn’t. Then the ride back just aggravated it. I may have to give up the bike for a while.”

“Speaking of which,” I said carefully. “Would you mind clearing the air about what is going on with you? Your mood swings notwithstanding, due to your condition, shouldn’t cause this much irritability in you. Nor should it have caused you to leave the scene of a search and rescue operation. Add to that, your insistence that I was out of uniform, hours after I had already reported for duty. For my peace of mind,” I finished gently with a hand on her hip, “I’d like to know what’s bugging you.”

She swallowed. “Constant nausea, mostly. Some vomiting — not much, but some. Makes it hard to concentrate on anything.” Then, so softly, I could barely hear... “And fear of the unknown...”

I paused in what I was originally about to say when I heard that last.

“What ‘unknown’” I asked. “The ‘unknown’ of our future as a family? The ‘unknown’ of the future of SPJ?”

I waited for her to answer. But she said nothing, eyes still closed.

“Corey,” I continued gently, “every day is an unknown entity when we wake. None of us truly knows what to expect. For all we know, a time traveler could visit us and tell us what would happen in our futures. Thus, because of that foreknowledge, we might change it somehow because of that knowledge.”

Corey opened her eyes at that.

“I’m not counting,” I quickly went on before she could say anything, “what we’ve already been told by Jasmine. I don’t know how it is with you and Jasmine. However, for me, Jasmine only tells me things of my future cryptically enough to make Nostradamus look like bad poet.”

She looked at me waiting for me to continue.

“Considering all you’re going through, then,” I said carefully but gently, “it might be prudent of you to take a leave of absence and have Briony take over as your Acting Senior Director until you have the baby.”

She sat up. “No. That is not an option. I am not sick, Robert, I’m pregnant.”

She paused for a moment.

“My mother had a very bad pregnancy with me. She was... never able to conceive again, or have a normal life after me. So, while I can, I’ll do my job to the best of my ability.”

“I don’t doubt you can do your job,” I replied as I took her hand. “But you’ll need to think about that leave of absence once you begin to show. Unless you plan to stay in your office from that time on until you have the baby. Barring anything that would require your physical presence, it would indicate to any observant person that something was turning you into a hermit. I’m sure I could put a reasonable spin on it, in the beginning. As time went by, however...”

I gave an apologetic shrug.

“As for your fear about repeating your mother’s pregnancy with you,” I continued. “I’d say you inherited your Aunt Melanie’s genes in that regard. Besides, since you’re also a product of the AVM, you’re too mule-headed to allow anything to go wrong with any pregnancies.”

That last said with a grin. I hoped it would bring a smile to her face. It did — reluctant at first, then a real, brilliant smile, one I had not seen in a long time.

“Speaking of Aunt Melanie...,” she said. “They want us to come to them for Christmas. Did you have any plans, Robert?”

“As far as I know,” I replied. “I’m spending Christmas with you.”

“Would you mind if we went to Shrewsbury? A real English Christmas,” Corey said, smiling.

“As long as it’s Christmas with you,” I said with my own smile. “I don’t care where we spend the Holiday together. At some point during the Holiday Season, I’d like us to go visit Cousin William, too. I think he mentioned he had some things for you and the baby. He also said if you needed a babysitter, he could have one of his employees take care of those duties for you whenever we wanted. It might be a good idea to have a governess for the children while we’re working. I’d suggest your Aunt Melanie, but I think she has her hands full with her brood. Speaking of babies. Have you thought of a name for our son? I was thinking we could name him after Sir Roger. Roger Bixby Parker. What do you think?”

“I have thought, yes. I like that idea. And Victoria Anne if we have a girl?”

“I like that name,” I said musingly. “There was a Victoria Anne Bixby in the family tree. She was the eldest daughter of Roger and Jasmine. She was also the twin sister to Cousin William’s great-grandfather, Earl Robert Malcolm Bixby.”

She gave me a grateful smile, knowing how important my family connection was to us.

“We need to get back to work,” she said standing up. “Robert — I’m going to call Miss Mathers and ask her advice. About how long I should continue working, and about — about concealing the pregnancy. My own inclination is to act as though there is nothing wrong — after all, there’s nothing illegal about being pregnant, even if I’m not openly married.”

“You’re correct, of course” I replied, “about it not being illegal to be pregnant. I know someone else who was in a position of power and pregnant. No one knows who the father of the child was, of course, but it didn’t deter her from doing her duty. Admittedly, however, I believe she’d been in that position of power for a few years before she became pregnant.”

“And speaking of work...” She sobered. “You said you had... found some things about Jack. Do you want to make a formal report? If so, I’ll change into uniform, too.”

“Since it wasn’t an official request from you,” I replied, sobering up just as quickly, “I see no reason why we need to do a formal report. Give me a moment, and I’ll get Killorn’s findings.”

I went to my desk and retrieved the report out of my travel pack. Once I returned to the bedroom, Corey was sitting on the bed again. She reached out for the envelope, almost as soon as I came within reach, with a hesitation. I waited patiently for her reaction.

Killorn had handed me the information just after Corey and I had moved into her newly repaired office. We’d been so busy up until now, that I had nearly forgotten about it until we were at the park.

The report from Killorn pretty much summed it up:

Confidential Report

From: Section Leader Mike Killorn, External Operations.

To: Lt. Col. Robert Bixby Parker

Subject: John William Tarrant, deceased.

Subject was born 14 August 1953 in London, England. He had an undistinguished school career, which ended in 1969 when he left school to become a mechanic’s mate at a local garage. He subsequently joined the Royal Air Force on his twentieth birthday in 1973.

After Basic, Tarrant began training in Intelligence, where he discovered he possessed an aptitude for languages. Due to the political situation, he trained extensively in the Arabic and Farsi languages.

He eventually served in Iran, Iraq and Kuwait.

Tarrant met his death in 1992 while on an intelligence mission to the Middle East.

Tarrant was believed, at the time of his death, to be accompanied by a young man named Ahmed Hassan. The whereabouts of this Hassan are currently unknown. All that is known of him is that he was a known associate of the subject Tarrant, was captured with him by a group believed to be Al-Qaeda (but not proven), then subsequently vanished. It is possible Hassan may have been executed due to his relationship with Tarrant; however, there is no evidence to support this line of thought.

Jack Tarrant was, by all accounts, a personable man, popular with the ladies.

While in Iran, he lived with a woman known only as Fatima. It is believed that this was arranged to disguise his intelligence activities. Efforts have been made to find this woman since they were together for several years, and she may be able to shed some light on the identity of Ahmed Hassan. Also, since they lived as man and wife she might be considered his common-law wife, and thus be due his death benefits. Clarification of this is not forthcoming from the RAF — all inquiries to that effect have been met with a blank wall.

Due to his work, he never formally married; other than this possible common-law marriage with Fatima. And there’s no known issue from this supposed marriage. He was survived by one elder sister, Maria, and one younger sister, Dorothy.

Killorn

Included was a letter by Killorn to me:

Parker, I hope you know where you’re going with this. The Director might be able to get through the stonewall I’m encountering, but I doubt it. RAF is very protective of their operatives, even in death.

Anyway, here’s the basics you asked for; birth, marriage, death, and issue.

Oh, there’s one other thing. His death benefits were divided equally between his sisters Maria and Dorothy. Maria doesn’t have any children. Dorothy is married, with one boy, Michael John Evans. By all accounts he’s a bright young lad. The boy’s father is a physicist in the National Defense effort.

Another reason for the brick walls around that family?

Picture enclosed.

“Tell me about this person you know,” Corey said as she read over the report.

“I’m not at liberty to reveal the identity of the mother and child.” I said. “Suffice it to say, the mother has some influence. The son practically lived at his mother’s place of employment and grew up to be in its employ.”

“I... see.”

She looked at the picture again.

“Yes... that’s Jacky. And Maria. So. A con? What do I… we... do now?”

“We could have Maria reported to RAF legal,” I said slowly. “However, that could lead to some embarrassing questions about you. Alternatively, we could confront her and Jacky’s mother personally and see if we can come up with an amicable solution for all parties. If Maria is in dire straits, we might be able to offer her some aid in some way. For all we know, she might be a truly honest person and needs the money because of some unreported illness or something.”

I know what you’re thinking, Parker’s a sucker for hard-luck cases. In a way, you’d be correct. I hate to see someone who’s fallen on hard times due to legitimate reasons. Especially, when it’s a family member of someone killed in the line of duty.

I’d already mentioned to Corey that I was willing to help Jack’s family by extending my fund to them. With Cousin William’s monthly donations, in the name of Bixby & Parker Enterprises, LLC, that fund has grown sizably. Therefore, I could be generous.

“I think we need to handle this ourselves,” Corey said after a moment’s thought. “After all, if there’s fraud, I’m the one being defrauded. Doubly so, if I was considered Jack’s common-law wife. I was Fatimah, you see.”

She came towards me, hands up, framing my face.

“You would make a good-looking Arab, Robert. A burnoose — I wonder if we have such a thing.”

She looked at me, thoughtful.

“Yes — I think Ahmed and Fatimah should pay her a visit, see how she is doing. Then — we can either continue to support her, or pull the plug.”

“I’d already guessed from Killorn’s report that you were Fatimah and Ahmed,” I said with a smile as I kissed her forehead. “As for the burnoose, I’m sure Stores or some department has one. As for Maria,” I continued. “When do you want to pay her a visit?”

“The sooner the better,” Corey said as she gestured in the general direction of her belly. “Certainly, before I start showing. There’s no way I can claim this is Jack’s doing!”

She looked up at me eyes wide.

“What time is it? I’ve lost track — again...”

“It’s a little after three in the afternoon,” I replied, looking at my watch. “We can have Miles locate Maria, then secure a car for us if you want.”

Reese nodded, hurried to her desk and picked up the phone.

“O’Halloran — would you come in, please?”

She waited until I joined her, and until he came in.

“I need a car,” she said, “and driver. I’ll need a burka for me. Burnoose for Parker. And I need the location of this woman.” She handed him the file I’d given her. “And I need a secure place to leave from and return to — somewhere that Reese and Parker can go to and Fatimah and Ahmed Hassan can leave from… And I need it now.”

O’Halloran’s jaw dropped for a minute, and then he snapped to attention.

“Yes, Ma’am. Five minutes.”

“Take ten.” She smiled and then turned to me.

“Parker. Get Doc James up here — I need something for this damn nausea.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said as I went to my own desk and called up Doc James.

“Doc, its Parker... I need you to come up to the Senior Director’s office with some of your nausea easing magic pills... Yes, she’s been especially bad today... Fine, see you then.”

“He’ll be up in two minutes,” I said to Corey as I hung up the phone. “While we wait, do you need anything else?”

She sat down behind the desk and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. For now — Miles knows what to do. As soon as he comes back though...”

She looked at me, tapping a finger on her lips in thought.

“We’ll probably go out the back way,” she said. “Safe house first, change, then down to wherever she is. Her and... well, Jacky probably won’t be there. She’ll claim he’s in school... I’m playing this by ear, so far. Have you ever worn a burnoose? It’s a lot simpler than a burka, believe me.”

“Never worn one,” I said honestly. “It should be an interesting experience. You should’ve had Miles get the address for Jacky’s mother while you were at it, just in case Maria isn’t home.”

“Um. It’s sort of like a cloak — you’ll wear Western under it, especially in England. I will too. Pants and a shirt, then shalwar kameez over it, then the burka over that. Dupatta, of course — under the burka, in case I need to take it off. What languages do you speak?”

“American English, obviously,” I said with a smile. “A smattering of the British English I’ve picked up since I’ve been here, a bit of Spanish, a little Tagalog, and a bit of Italian that I picked up while stationed in Naples. I also know a little Mandarin Chinese and Malay from my time in Singapore. I’m thinking of picking up French. Are you up to being my French tutor?”

Her head dropped, hiding a smile.

“Je t’aime,” she murmured. “Yes, but not now. I’d hoped we had something in common, something we could communicate in without Maria understanding. Arabic would have been perfect, but...”

Corey shook her head before continuing.

“No matter. You’ll have to be pushy, imperious. I’ll be quiet, self-effacing. We need a reason to seek them out.”

“Well if Sir Roger were here,” I said, “he could communicate in Arabic since he spent some time in Saudi Arabia and Oman. As for the rest, I’ll have to wing it. I think I can pull it off based on the memories I have of him from those days. I just hope Maria doesn’t notice any mistakes I may make.”

“If you can manage Arabic it would help, since we’re supposed to be Arabs... I think the line to take is that she’s stolen my inheritance from my husband. I can fake up a convincing looking Arabic document to ‘prove’ our marriage,” Reese said, eyes light with mischief.

“I don’t think I can pull off the Arabic language part,” I said scratching my head, “but I’ll see what I can do. As for the fake Arabic document, a little bird told me that Miles is an excellent forger.”

I smiled at that last.

She snorted.

“Who do you think taught him?”

“Corey Lloyd Reese, the Second,” I said smiling with mock shock. “I’m surprised you’d do something so underhanded. I knew there was a reason I married you...”

Before I could go on, Corey’s phone rang. It was Doc James and Corey had the Doc enter the office.

He hustled, bustled, and was as fussy as ever, but also as efficient as usual. Within a few minutes, he had elicited a full description of her nausea, mixed her a potion and handed her a bottle of pills to be taken twice daily and a small tin of tablets to be sucked on as needed.

Then, as he left, Miles came back in with two suitcases.

“Car’s on third, I’m driving you. Here’s the address you’re going to first. Here’s where the woman is — she’s living with her sister and her sister’s son.”

He glanced at me and then shot her a look.

“Corey, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Have you looked at the pictures?”

“Maria and Jacky Tarrant. I know. You promised you wouldn’t contact them.”

“I’m not. Fatimah is.”

He frowned.

“Besides — it’s not Jacky, O’Halloran. It’s Michael John Evans — and he’s Dorothy’s son, not Maria’s.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not yet — but I’m going to find out.” Her chin rose in the air.

“Corey...” O’Halloran began.

“I will not,” Corey interrupted heatedly, placing a hand on her belly, “have my son’s inheritance be compromised by the possible fraud of this woman, Miles. If she needs help, she’ll receive it — but she will not continue to bleed me dry.”

She gestured at her still-flat belly.

O’Halloran’s reaction was comical. He nodded, accepting her words, and then realized what she’d said. His eyes widened, and he swung to me, accusingly. Miles knew of Corey’s pregnancy, of course, from a week prior to the wedding. He’d chosen, conveniently, to forget about it; refused to believe it, in fact, despite what he already knew.

“Well what did you expect would happen from a married couple,” I said to Miles in surprisingly perfect Arabic drawn from Roger’s memories. “And you can’t do a thing about it. It was Allah’s will for it to happen. Plus, you’re sworn to secrecy about this entire matter. And that’s an order, Captain.”

The look on my face must’ve been as equal to Miles’ face considering I had spoken in perfect Classic Arabic. I’m not sure, but I thought I could hear Jasmine giggling in the background.

“Insha’Allah,” Corey murmured. She placed her hands together and bowed deeply to me.

“Insha’Allah,” I repeated, just as solemnly and headed to the suite to change.