Chapter 37

At that moment the door opened and a distinctive aroma filled the room. The smell, close to a stench, was so intense it made your eyes water the first time you experienced it. I had experienced it many times, and still couldn't quite get used to it.

"Hello, Gertie. It's been a while."

"Hello, to you too, Mr. Sampson. I see you've been up to your usual stunts. Rescuing fair maidens now, are we?"

I was still sitting. I tilted my head back to look up at an enormous block of a woman who was smiling warmly down at me in a motherly fashion. She was as large as her unique perfume was intense. As far as I knew, there was still a sizable reward open in the NIH labs for anyone who could duplicate that odor and make an antidote. God knows why she insisted on bathing in the stuff. She was an intelligent woman, a world-renowned medical researcher. She was published in more than one field, she had a likeable personality. She just smelled. It was rumored that certain airlines had banned her from flying with them. Too many customer complaints.

She was accompanied by an officious lab coat. The local hospital administrator, was my bet. He started right in on me.

"Yes, Mr. Sampson, I demand to know what is going on in my hospital. Will you please explain to me what you did to this young juvenile and why you were carrying her naked though the streets? What is your relationship to this black fellow, and what were you two planning on doing to her? I have several important questions I would like to have answered, mister. You're going to be in real trouble if I don't get the truth I'm after, and I'm talking criminal charges, here. Your accomplice here has been particularly insistent in trying to leave. Why? I want to know what's going on, and right now!" he ended emphatically.

"And you would be...?"

"Carl Jones, Assistant Administrator."

"Well, Mr. Jones, in the first place, you'd better get a lawyer real quick. I don't take kindly to insinuations, aspersions or allegations, especially the kind you have just made about my friend, this 'black fellow,' as you called him, and me.

"Now, I'm sure that Dr. Schwartz here will put you into contact with some nice government people who will satisfy your curiosity as to who I am. Of course, that would be after you prove to them that you're capable of handling that information, which could take several years of their asking some very personal questions. In fact, I'm sure those same government people would be happy to bring several of their nice friends along who will have questions of their own for you about your tax records for the last 25 years."

I stood up for effect. I don't think the pompous little snot knew how big I was. "Now then, I would suggest you leave before I really get mad."

He was actually preparing to spout off again until I mentioned the IRS. Blanching, he left the same pallid color as his lab coat.

When the door was shut Gertie said, "Done with your usual light touch, Sampson. Oh, by the way, we don't use the IRS to threaten the populace anymore."

I looked at her, an expectant smile on my face. I knew a punch line was coming.

"Uh-uh. Now we threaten them with the INS, ATF, or Janet Reno. They go in with machine guns and point them at your children."

She said this with such a straight face that, had I not guffawed, Mac would have taken her seriously. Gertie always was the one person who could be relied on to have the latest sick government humor. As with most sick jokes, however, there was entirely too much truth in her statement.

"Excuse me, are you really Dr. Gertrude Schwartz of NIH?" asked Simone from the bed.

The huge lady turned her considerable attention to the girl in the bed. "Yes, I am, child. Do you know me?"

"You wrote a book, 'The Dynamics of Hemoglobin Under Physical Stress' published in 1985."

"Yes, I did," Gertie said with surprise. "How did you know?"

"I read it," she stated simply. Simone could see the disbelief in Gertie's face. I knew if it was Gertie's book, it was undoubtedly a thick and very technical book. Simone continued, "There were only four typographic errors. I thought it was very well written."

"Well, thank you, I think. And there were only three in the text!"

"You misspelled Claude Coutier's name in the references. That was the fourth one. So you are correct in saying there were only three in the text."

"Dr. Coutier is an arrogant sycophant," Gertie muttered.

Simone giggled, "He said nearly the same thing about you! Only in French, of course."

Gertie sat on the edge of the bed, fully taken with this amazing young girl. "You know Claude?"

Simone nodded, "I knew him. We corresponded until he died last year. I had written to him to ask him if he thought your radical theories were correct, as they differed so much from his. He grudgingly admitted to me you were most likely correct. Did you know him, Dr. Schwartz? He would never say why he had such strong feelings about you."

I had never seen the big woman this vulnerable. She was as tough as they came, solid and dependable. I had leaned on her for strength more than once after returning from a hard mission. This young girl had her near tears.

"Yes, I did know him, long ago at the University. Very well, in fact. He and I were engaged. His mother didn't like me and we, he..." She didn't say what, but it was clear.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Dr. Schwartz. I did not mean to bring up sad memories. I know he would have liked it that you did it on purpose, as a joke on his mother. He said many nice things about you in his letters, like he missed talking with you. I can see why he loved you."

Gertie sat quietly for a moment, alone with her own thoughts. She wheeled on me suddenly. "I hear one word of this from anyone, mister, and I will draw so much of your blood for lab tests at your next physical you'll blow away in a puff. Understood?"

I nodded, suitable threatened. My lips were sealed. For now.

With that, Gertie was back to business. "What's his clearance?" she asked me, nodding her head at Mac.

I looked at Mac. I shrugged. "I don't know. What do you think, Mac? 410 feet? 415?"

He snorted, Gertie just looked puzzled.

"Mac is my oldest and closest friend, Gertie. From before my Agency work. He, uh, he is a ball player. Baseball. Gertie, this is Mac Washington, third baseman for the Yankees. Mac, Gertie, my own personal government doctor."

They shook hands, then Gertie's eyes widened in sudden recognition. "You! You're THAT Mac! You're the one who showed up out of nowhere and cost me all that money in the Orioles game. Damn! Nobody can move that fast on the bases. You must have stolen four or five bases that game alone!"

Mac grinned, taking the praise, tainted as it was, in stride.

"Gertie, you continue to amaze me. I didn't know you followed baseball. And betting? Does the Agency know about that?"

She glared over at me. "Screw you, Mr. Sampson. It was a $10 bet with the director that went to double or nothing when Mac got walked. He was an unknown who had just been moved up from some hick Triple A club to replace that injured player, what's 'is name. Who was I to know he could run like the wind? Besides, $20 won't get you a hot dog and a beer there, so shove it. We went to the game on official business, too. Maybe one of you will tell me, since we're on the subject, why do they call you two 'The Twins?' That name kept coming up in some of your old teammates' interviews."

She turned to Mac. "It's an honor to meet you in person. Excuse me for not recognizing you, Mr. Washington. I didn't recognize you without your tight pants..." For the second time she stopped short, not finishing what she was saying. It was a most unusual occurrence.

As much as she blushed when she realized what she had just admitted, that she had only looked at his butt during the game, Mac and I were still trying to recover from her sudden unexpected question about our nickname. The reason for the name was rather personal, and, thank goodness, our teammates, though truthful about the name, had had the loyalty to conveniently forget the reason for it. I gave her the standard bullshit answer we told anyone who asked.

"Well, it started out in high school. He would get a hit, I would get a hit. I would pitch a no-hitter, then he would. What ever happened, happened to both of us. Ergo, 'The Twins!'"

Gertie looked at me carefully. She knew me too well. My answer had been too pat, too prepared. "Is that your final answer?"

I nodded.

"Bullshit."

I shrugged. Take it or leave it.

Shaking her head in resignation, she finally got on with why she had come in to the room in the first place. "Well, first the good news. You, Mr. Sampson, are as healthy as a horse. As usual. Even that little scratch on your arm should heal nicely. That is due in large part to me, as you well know." With that prognosis she dismissed me from her realm of concern. I was uneasy to get off so lightly with her.

She looked over at Simone for a moment. "More good news is that the girl did not catch anything particularly nasty from her ordeal. I did have to use some, er, new things for a few of the bugs she had in her system. You will have sign some, um, release papers for her before I can let you leave." Something told me we were very lucky to have this good doctor on our side.

I knew more than a little bit about her 'new things,' as she called them, having been the recipient of a few of them before. It was in large part the reason for her continued interest in the state of my health. Or that I had any health at all for her to be concerned about. More than once I had heard the term 'the guinea pig' used when someone asked for my medical chart, especially after she had patched me up after a mission. I had a feeling the same label now applied to Simone. Knowing Gertie, well, I trusted her to use her best medical judgement, which, come to think of it, was about the best in the world.

She hesitated for a moment, thinking and phrasing as I had seen her do before when she was really serious. When she spoke, she spoke directly to Simone, as if Mac and I weren't there, "Young lady, I do not know who you are or where you come from or why you are not more affected than you are by what you have been through. From the state in which you arrived, and the company you arrived with, I have a very good idea of exactly what you have gone through this past couple of days. I saw the pictures they took of you when you came in, I have read the physical exam notes from the emergency room doctors and I have seen the lab tests. I have also seen the results from the samples I sent to my lab. I know many things."

Gertie seemed overcome with emotion, all choked up. She pointed over at me. I thought I was a goner. "I know this man. I know he did not do this to you. If anything, he is probably responsible for saving you from the people who were doing it to you."

Simone nodded her head in agreement. Gertie had her rapt attention. Mine, too.

"I cannot imagine what would make one human being treat another in the manner these people treated you. I cannot fathom what would make a grown man think he could treat a beautiful young woman in the manner these men treated you. Not even among the most uncivilized of peoples does this behavior exist. Only rarely does it occur in the animal kingdom. I am beyond myself with outrage. I ask you, give me one name, just one, of one of the men who did this, and I will make him suffer for what he did to you. He will beg me to let him die. I swear to you, I will do it."

Simone shook her head. She didn't know their names. Gertie misunderstood her, but, knowing me, guessed correctly what had happened.

"You can't. They're dead, aren't they?" Not waiting for an answer, she turned on me again. "Judge, jury and executioner?" she accused bitterly.

I shook my head softly and held up my injured arm. "One Uzi and two knives. Self-defense."

She snorted. "With your special training, that was hardly fair odds..."

My alarmed look stopped her before she breached any more major government secrets. I pointed to Mac, who was staring wide-eyed at her careless slip that I had had special training. I had never even hinted to him what I had done after I left Triple A ball other than I was working for the State Department. He thought I worked at the embassies or something. I never really said.

Gertie, who had been nearly beside herself with rage at the brutality of what Simone had been through, forced herself to calm down. When she was back in control, she turned back to the girl. "Simone, dear, I was prepared for you to be traumatized and emotionally battered from your ordeal. I was looking for you to be withdrawn and sullen, bitter and hateful. A normal person would feel that way. I was expecting to have to recommend years of psychiatric help and counseling for you.

"But what do I find? A caring, sensitive, intelligent, composed young woman. You reached out and touched my heart with a fond memory. You had the sensitivity to understand the love that old bastard and I had for each other, two misshapen human beings that no one else could love. You are truly an extraordinary woman.

"I would be pleased if you would keep in contact with me. I would love to get to know you better as a person, to watch you grow, to help you be even more than you are now, if even in some small way. It would be a privilege. Besides, latent repercussions of these events may crop up later on. Rather than have to re-educate someone new, I would be pleased to keep in touch with you."

I nearly fell out of my chair. This was the woman who had practically single-handedly re-invented the rehabilitation program for traumatized agents. There were today several active agents who, prior to her program, would have had to be, well, put down, myself among them. We could be a lethal bunch when we got out of control. For her to offer to look after Simone after the trauma she had been through was more than I could have hoped for. It also indicated something of the intensity of the trauma Simone had been through.

Simone's experience was, in many ways, the same type of torture and degradation experienced by captured agents. Simone's apologies earlier of her inability to resist because of the cold and hunger had reminded me of similar apologies I had made myself. We all had a breaking point. When we reached it, we all felt it was due to our weakness, a failure on our part. Gertie was right. Simone needed more than my help for this.

I lost my head. I stood up and hugged Gertie, I was so overcome with emotion. She tolerated it briefly, then set me back down rather forcibly in the chair. "Don't go soft on me now, Mr. Sampson. She's going to need your help, too. I assume, somehow, you're in some manner responsible for her? God help her."

I almost wished I were back in the agency. Almost. I had so many things I could hold over her head from just this afternoon, I could have owned her departmental budget. Her former lover, betting with the director, watching Mac's ass, her careless slip about my training, oh, so many things. I could have had any assignment I wanted. But, then, that was the trouble. I didn't want any assignments, anymore.

"Yes, she is the daughter of my, uh, fiancée." I saw Simone watching me to see how I would portray my relationship with her mother. I thought I should reassure her of the permanence of her situation with me. I forgot about Mac.

"What!" Mac burst out. "Did you and Sally break up? Holy Shit! CeCe's going to have a cow!"

"No, Mac. We didn't break up. Sally and I are still going to get married. Too," I added weakly. My position of superiority with Gertie had just been eroded to nothing. I could see from her incredulous expression that she was eating this up and just waiting to hear my explanation. From her prior experience with me, she knew to expect a doozy.

"But, but, that's illegal," blustered Mac.

"Multiple partner marriages are an accepted practice in 37 different cultures," piped up Simone from her pillow. She was on my side, at least. She wanted to get her mom married off and safe. I wanted to change the subject.

"And just how many of those 37 cultures are in the US of A, Miss Smarty-pants," howled Gertie, now shaking with laughter. She was really enjoying this. Turning to me, she said, "Which wife will you be bringing with you to the festivities in Washington the week after next?"

I looked at her blankly.

"Oh, right! You haven't heard, yet. The President thought it would be nice to have a quiet bash or two - complete with photo ops, mind you! - for all the hidden soldiers that keep this country safe for democracy. To protect the actives, the agency PR guys are pulling in every coherent inactive agent they can find, and you, Mr. Sampson, are at the top of their list. A very short list, too. Since the festivities will be at the same time as your next scheduled physical..."

I groaned at the thought of another 4-day stint as a rat in her laboratory.

"...I have already taken the liberty of RSVPing for you and the Mrs. Maybe I should specify a table for three...?" She was really enjoying herself. If laughter was the best medicine, Gertie Schwartz, MD, was a very healthy woman at the moment.

Simone, however, remained fixed on the problem that had been staring me in the face ever since I realize what it was Sally was really asking me to do with her and Nicole. What she said next was like a thunderbolt, a revelation. The answer was so simple, it just might work.

"But, it's only illegal if they file the papers with the courts, isn't it. I mean, they could still pretend or something, couldn't they?"

I don't know about the others, but I just sat and stared at Simone, my angel. All I could think of was that quote 'And a child shall lead them...'

Chapter 38

Simone and I were kept for observation for 4 more days. Gertie visited everyday. Shit, she did more than visit. She spent more than 6 hours a day with us, talking with Simone mostly. With her workload at the NIH, I realized how important this was to her, that Simone be OK. I left them to their talks. I used the time to sleep, as I was awake at night, still on alert. I think Gertie knew that. I didn't look, but I knew there was an inconspicuous guard watching our door 24 hours a day.

I spent the nights by Simone's bed. We would talk until she fell asleep. She would insist on holding my finger as we talked. She quietly admitted it helped her dreams. Other than that she didn't like me, or any male, to touch her much. She liked me to talk while she slept, too.

I remembered what I had done for Janey, so I did the same for her. I didn't have that much history with her to relive, so I told her things I remembered from my own youth. I told her all about Mac, and how the first time we met, we had defended each other back to back in a playground fistfight. The rich kid and the ruffian. We had been inseparable from then on. Our parents and teachers never understood.

I told her about growing up poor, then suddenly stupendously rich. I told her about my father and mother, how the sudden riches had torn them apart and how I missed them. I told her about Marion, my sister. How proud I was of her being a judge. I told her things I had forgotten and things I tried to forget, but couldn't. I told her what I could about my time in the Agency, and why I couldn't work for them anymore. I talked until I would drift off. Then we would dream together.

Each night the dream would be the same as before. The beach. The sandcastles. Each night I would show Simone a different set of faces in my collection. Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try to touch them with her fingers. Pieces of the sand from them would cling to her delicate fingers and she would scurry back to her own castle and brush the tiny shiny grains into her own mixture of faces. I would watch her as she would sit and watch the grains fit together. Her radiant smile was all the reward I need for sharing those memories.

Some of the faces in my castle frightened her and she would protectively move her own sandcastle a little farther away from mine again, leaving that part of the wall open and unprotected from any errant wave. I would leave the gap open for her and gently show how all the faces in the sand were mixed. The good with the bad. I showed her that the bad would fade away, while the good would continue to shine. I showed her, too, how the bad sometimes made the whole castle stronger. Not all the time, but sometimes.

I showed her the remains of my father's castle, down the beach a ways. It was almost gone, as he hadn't been there to tend it for a long time. The only faces left in the ruins were Thorny's, his partner, Marion's and mine. Everyone else had faded away or forgotten him.

We found her Papa's sandcastle and carried it closer to where ours stood. Simone seemed to like knowing his sand was close by. She visited his crumbling castle often. Once I watched her try to fix a breached wall in his castle. Every time she dumped a bucket of sand on the wall, it would disappear. I didn't know how she would react to that, but slowly she came to terms with the futility of it. Only the living could build sandcastles. She didn't try to fix it again, but focused on building her own.

From that time on, each morning when we woke, I would sense she had moved her sandcastle a little closer to mine. I would grin over at her as she opened her eyes. Neither one of us understood what it was we were experiencing, but we accepted it. I knew it would be a huge step for her to commit to another relationship and that it would take a long time before she was ready to do it. That was fine with me. I would be there when she was ready.

Mac came everyday, too. He had been 'released' as soon as Gertie had cleared him. He visited the children's ward on each visit, too. I'm not sure who liked it more, Mac or the children. When he visited with us, he spent most of his time tripping over his tongue trying to talk with Simone. She continued to fluster him and took great delight in her ability to keep him floundering. He brought her little gifts, trinkets and flowers that she accepted as if he was presenting her with the crown jewels. I could tell he was having trouble justifying his feelings about Simone on several levels, not the least of which being her young age, and kept trying to draw me into a conversation about Sally and Nicole. I ignored his unsubtle attempts, and left him to work it out by himself. I slept when he was there, sounder than when Gertie was there. I felt safer with my friend.

Mac had retrieved my car while we were recovering in the hospital. I drove home after they released us. I was a little nervous about our homecoming. I was going to insist on carrying Simone through the door, but she kissed me shyly on the cheek. "I am not the invalid, Lawrence." Flabbergasted, I let her walk.

The house was quiet when we entered. Janey had heard us drive in and was preparing the bed for Simone. Another bed was the last thing Simone wanted to see. The two teens saw each other and ran into each other's arms. There was more said in the fierceness of that hug and in the mingling of their mutual tears than could ever have been said with mere words. I think, at that moment, they started thinking of each other as family, as sisters.

I had not told Janey what Simone had been through. She just knew it had been terrible. Simone did not apologize to Janey for being jealous. She wasn't anymore. It was too expensive an emotion to own. She couldn't afford it.

I stood and looked at the pair. Simone was taller than Janey, but not as tall as Nicole. Her coloring was deceptive. It was dark like her mom's, I guess. I would have to say it was best described as having a porcelain quality, like fine china. I knew she was a lot tougher than she seemed, but the fragile quality came through in every fine feature, every gracious movement. She made you want to wrap her up in your arms and protect her. A china doll. A very feminine china doll.

They broke their hug. Janey looked up at her and grinned, "Nice hair. You meet a lawnmower salesman?"

Simone looked stunned for a moment, then proudly poofed her hair, like a Parisian model. "You like?" she asked seriously. "He has a nice truck, he'll come to the house. I can get you a quick appointment. I think he said his name was 'Roto-Rooter.' Very exclusive. 24-hour service, too!"

It was Janey's turn to be silenced. Simone had never bested her before, but it was fun to watch. Her squeal of delight at having found a sparring partner ended in another hug, this one of excitement.

After the extended greetings were over, I took the two girls into the living room. I noticed the door to the Free Room was closed. I had not told Simone what had happened to her mom, but she knew most of it. She had felt it through her newly discovered link. I asked Janey to tell us what had happened while we were gone.

"Well, Nicole was sleeping when you left, so I went down to check on Mom. I could, like, tell she was OK, but I wanted to see for myself. I told her Nicole was resting quietly. I also told her she was to stay down in the basement under restraint until you got back with Simone. Or came home alone."

She looked up at me. "I hope that was OK to tell her that. I don't think she knew Simone had run away."

I nodded.

"Well, I wasn't sure. She got really scared, not for herself, but for Simone. She started to cry, really cry. I made sure she wouldn't choke or anything, and I left. I couldn't take it. I don't know how long she cried, but I felt her sorrow. I still do.

"A couple hours after you left, Bala showed up. You called them?"

Again I nodded.

"Yeah, well, she ended up being a great help. But right at the first I wasn't sure. Ten minutes after she got here, I sensed a change in Mom, like a panic or something. I raced downstairs and found Bala standing behind her with a whip. She hadn't hit her yet, but she was teasing her.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do the right thing, Dad, but I let Bala have it. I told her this wasn't the time or the place for teasing. I told her she could stay if she wanted to help, but it would be on my terms. You had left me in charge. Otherwise, she could get her little butt back to Amud." Janey grinned at that recollection. "She looked at me funny for a minute, then she got that neat twinkle in her eye. You know the one? Then she hugged me and apologized."

She looked up at us. "I wouldn't have made it through without her help, Dad. Anyway, I spent most of my time with Nicole. When she woke up, I tried to talk to her, but she was really far away. I got scared and started to call the doctor. Bala came in and looked at her. She got in bed with her, naked, and lay down with her, front to back, like you and Mom like to do. Bala just held her, singing to her, holding her like a baby.

"I watched them. Nicole settled down and seemed to like the touch of Bala. When Nicole went back to sleep, Bala had me take off my clothes and change places with her, so that I was in the bed with Nicole. She went off to fix us a meal. One of us was always with Nicole, holding her.

"Eventually she started crying. I got scared again, but Bala was really happy about that. She said that now that she was feeling again, she would be OK. Even if she were feeling a lot of sadness, it would pass. It was the blankness that never went away that was dangerous. Some women never come back to the living, she said.

"About then Mac called. He was so worried about you, but he said you were in the hospital now and would be OK. Scared the shit out of me - oops, sorry Dad - but he reassured me you were OK. I had to ask him if you had found Simone. He didn't know your name, but when he described you, I knew it was you. He didn't do justice to your haircut, Simmie!"

Simone, who had just acquired a nickname, snuggled her head into Janey's shoulder. Her tears had been silently falling as Janey told of her mother's recovery.

"She wants to see you, Simmie. That's the only thing she has said to either of us. She just asked if Simone had returned, and to please send her in immediately."

She looked back up at me. "I didn't tell her, Dad, I swear. Bala swore to me she didn't, either. She just knew Simone had run away.

"She's asleep right now, or I would have sent you right in. You could go in and sit with her until she wakes up if you want."

Simone nodded and went to the door of the Free Room. She hesitated outside the door. "Janey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Any time."