B E N E D I C T ' S 9
a creative
collaboration

. P A R T . N I N E .

I was just thinking about the need to pull together.

Jack Kohler needs that cover design by the first week of October. The printer's proofs of the Liver Foundation calendar are probably on my desk right now. I told Cindy at Young & Young that I'd have those preliminary sketches to her before she left on vacation. I still don't have an idea for Leon's magazine article on compact disks...
. . . . . Robin Gallagher sat in the rusty metal lawn chair and stared at the cloud bank moving in off the big lake, not really seeing it, musing about her unfinished work, a lifetime away in Evanston. The weather was taking a distinct turn toward Autumn and she pulled her sweater more snugly around her shoulders, but she knew the chills were not coming from the cold front as it drove southeast.
. . . . . Laughter came from the end of the dock. Aurelia had caught a perch with her makeshift pole. It couldn't have been more than six inches long, and Jordy was crying, "Get the net! Get the net!" She felt a smile creep into the corners of her mouth and watched as the four of them enjoyed their moment of gaiety. Even Kethan was grinning as he reached toward the fish with a carpenter's measuring tool. Where had he gotten that? He pulled the yellow tape out with his long arms and the nurse playfully pushed him away with her free hand. Maria doubled over gracefully with delight and suddenly Robin felt ripples of mirth as tangible as the waves that were lapping more forcefully on the nearby rocks.
. . . . . For an instant she wanted to plunge into the happy thoughts but restrained herself. Oh, it was just too easy to escape like that now, if she wanted to... to find the most soothing idea at hand and slip into it like a bathtub of hot water. She mustn't. If only she could be back in her studio, with none of this having happened... But wishes like that were just as pointless as any escape into someone else's calm. She must find her own.
. . . . . She noticed Devon Wise walking along the shore toward her... along a sandy stretch that served as a miniature beach for the encampment. She'd gotten used to seeing him with a camera hanging around his neck, but he didn't have one this time.
. . . . . How could she achieve some inner peace amid this sense of peril, now that things had gone so wrong with Yates? Isn't that the question that was really troubling her? Why had she allowed herself to probe? Why had she intruded this awkward power of hers into something so precious... a newfound relationship? She fought the urge to find him at once... to be at his side.
. . . . . No. She must not interrupt the planning session.
. . . . . Get a grip, Gallagher.
. . . . . I'm only going through what everyone else is going through as we adapt to these unpredictable circumstances, and that includes Yates. Just accept his fondness for now and then take it hour by hour. Draw closer to Freeman. I can trust him. Invite his guidance. Let my evolving mental capacity be subordinate to his plan. Our mutual safety is at stake. We all need each other, and that includes Howard... Sure, I miss my work and I miss my family, but if I don't handle this, I'll miss the opportunity of my life... with him.
. . . . . "Kind of foreboding, isn't it?"
. . . . . "You mean the sky, Devon?"
. . . . . "Yeah, right... Sorry, I wasn't meaning to get personal," the young man added nervously as he backed off a step. He adjusted the rubber glove. "Didn't mean to bother you."
. . . . . "That's okay. Actually it's beautiful. I love looking at skies... Never tire of painting them."
. . . . . "I'd like to see your work some time."
. . . . . "And I yours."
. . . . . "Mo says you're quite good."
. . . . . "Really? Well, he and I go back a bit... to high school, you know."
. . . . . "Small world, eh?"
. . . . . "I'd say so... He dated one of my good friends... Well, more than one, come to think of it."
. . . . . "Would you believe me if I told you I remember you from Dayton?"
. . . . . "You're kidding?" She briefly met his eyes and knew it was a fact. She saw the mental image of her teen face—certainly prettier than she'd actually been."
. . . . . "Devon, I'm flattered. Really... I am."
. . . . . His natural smile was charming. She hadn't seen it until now. And then she saw the secret he was harboring. She hadn't meant to."
. . . . . "Oh, God, I'm so sorry..."
. . . . . "What?"
. . . . . "The cameras! I apologize... Didn't mean to see that. Honestly, maybe I should wear a rubber glove, too... on my head!"
. . . . . His smile returned. "Oh, I don't care. Maybe I wanted you to know. Someone else has to. I've been so damn worried about Henri I haven't wanted to bring it up."
. . . . . Robin tried to withdraw, but was overwhelmed by his sincerity and the clarity of his concern about the missing cameras. "All of us..." she said under her breath.
. . . . . "Uh huh... I shot everybody... I think... except myself... on the island."
. . . . . "Freeman should know this... that they were left there."
. . . . . "Nothing can be done about it now."
. . . . . "I know... you're right."
. . . . . "Aw, hell... Whoever wants to harm us... they already know what we look like, most likely."
. . . . . "I suppose so, but maybe not, Devon. You'll tell Howard at least?"
. . . . . "Uh, sure... If you think I should."
. . . . . "I was just thinking about the need to pull together."
. . . . . "Hard for me. Always been... a loner."
. . . . . Immediately she knew why.
. . . . . "Your mother was..."
. . . . . "Korean... My father was from Devonshire. That's where my name comes from. He was a frogman. Royal Navy. Brought his bride to Pensacola after the war. Trained American divers. Killed when I was just a kid."
. . . . . "That must have been terrible."
. . . . . "One of those bad luck dives that can take out an expert. Destroyed my mother."
. . . . . "I'm so sorry, Devon."
. . . . . "Fate."
. . . . . She knew a screen was descending on his memory, but not before she saw the tall officer in white... the tiny woman sobbing uncontrollably on the bed... she felt compelled to squeeze his forearm and was surprised at how muscular it felt. Then she experienced the undercurrent in the sinews, like the uncomfortable, radiating sensation that results from a strike to the elbow. She instantly pulled her hand back.
. . . . . I'm getting used to it, Robin.
. . . . . He hadn't spoken.
. . . . . "We'll help each other get through this," she said, and gently placed her hand back on his arm. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
. . . . . They both noted that the other four—Maria, Aurelia, Jordan, and Kethan—had walked up the dock toward them and were observing from a respectful distance. Jordan picked up a chunk of driftwood that had been wedged against the planking and held it out toward the pair. Fresh, green growth pushed its way upward and took the form of an exquisite Bonsai. Aurelia began to hum and gestured in their direction. Amazingly, the living sculpture floated toward Devon and he reached out to let it rest in the gloved hand. And then they all felt a strong, encircling pulse of personal amity from Maria.
. . . . . "Not bad," Devon whispered into Robin's ear, "but what about the redhead?"
. . . . . "I heard that!" Kethan snapped, and they all burst into laughter.

* * * * * * * * *

"I know it's a rather odd proposition, but what do you think?"
. . . . . "Okay, boys, let me get this straight. You want me to get a doctor out here for your arm and swap that Chris-Craft for a car?" There was a sharp note of disdain in his voice.
. . . . . "Don't forget the cash," Danton Stromberg added.
. . . . . "I haven't... A grand each—pocket money—and I'm supposed to believe you'll get me a clean title."
. . . . . "When we report in to the owner, you'll get paper all right, and a honey of a deal on the balance due." Henri Lafayette couldn't read the seasoned negotiator, nothing past the facade of cynicism. He had come all the way down to the dock in less than five minutes, but now he was delaying for effect.
. . . . . "Gentlemen, it's been charming, but I'm not sure I'm interested in what you're selling, not to mention the ridiculous amendments." He crossed his arms and turned to Stromberg. "You trying to stick me with a hot boat?"
. . . . . "Don't get me started, Malcolm." the man sneered. "I know you don't care where this little beauty came from, and you don't need the stink we can raise if you pass up this offer."
. . . . . "Threaten me, you little creep? You're not foolish enough to take me on. I pick my teeth with smalltime operators like you."
. . . . . Henri felt the situation slipping away and racked his brain for new tactic.
. . . . . "Don't pay any attention to him, Sir, he's just plain mean. But, you know what? My arm hurts like hell and I'm losing my patience." He walked over to the gasoline pump. "I could use a shot of whiskey, but this'll have to do." He removed the nozzle, held back his head and dispensed the fuel into his open mouth, swallowing noisily.
. . . . . "Good God! You're a crazy SOB!" Malcolm cried out, grabbing the spigot out of his hand.
. . . . . "No, I'm the SOB," Stromberg growled. "He's just insane. Totally off the chart, as a matter of fact."
. . . . . "Okay! Okay, dammit! I'll call a friend in town. Now he'll have to pump your stomach, too, you idiot!"
. . . . . "Don't spew on his new motorboat, Henri. Looks like we've got ourselves a deal."
. . . . . "You're both a couple of miserable screwballs!"
. . . . . "Yeah, but this boat's fallen into your fat lap and you want it... bad... and you've got the best end of the deal, 'cause however it turns out, it's tied to your dock." Henri smiled broadly and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his right arm.
. . . . . "A doctor, a car, and the cash!" Stromberg shouted. "And, if you don't mind, I'll just wait up there and keep an eye on things, just to be sure!" He pointed to the nearby boathouse and then, in three catlike movements, was on the roof, sitting on his haunches.
. . . . . "I don't believe this is happening!" Malcolm sputtered.
. . . . . "Relax, man... We've enjoyed doing business with you. Now go make that call!"

* * * * * * * * *

"Well, I just don't know why it took you so long. If you'd come right away she wouldn't have had time to leave."
. . . . . "And how long do you think it's been since she left the house?" The patrolman glanced down at his notepad and back up at Richard Amberly.
. . . . . "Well, how would we know? It's been almost a half hour since she went upstairs. And we've been here in the living room waiting for you to get here."
. . . . . "Sir, do you suppose she knew the person who came in the back door? There's no sign of a forced entry."
. . . . . "No. Impossible. Absolutely not..."
. . . . . "And, has your daughter been having any problems here at home... at school?"
. . . . . "What are you suggesting?"
. . . . . "Honey, he's just trying to do his job. You'd better show him. Show him that... thing."
. . . . . "Oh, all right, but didn't you see it on the floor when you checked the door?"
. . . . . "See what, sir?"
. . . . . The high-pressure syringe was gone. So was one of Gwen's backpacks, a few pieces of dark clothing, and her journal, along with the old Osborne portable their son had "souped up" for his sister's recent birthday (a "real screamer" he'd called it, with its dual Westock II processors). Neither Amberly would have noticed. They had stopped paying attention to all that computer stuff years ago.
. . . . . Probably the only real clue in the house was something nobody would think to look for—the message copied to an invisible directory on Gwen's desktop computer after being posted to an obscure bulletin board called Hack Haven. It was short.
. . . . .
. . . . . BRAIN BOY:
. . . . . SOS. STAY PUT.
. . . . . MUST FIND U ASAP.
. . . . . DON'T WORRY.
. . . . . M&D SAFE W/ ME GONE.
. . . . . WISH ME LUCK,
. . . . . SQUID INK

Part Ten

T O P