Commitment (53 page)

“He built airplanes out of logs? Or stones?” Alex asked.

Krause laughed. “He built airplanes out of everything. That’s all he ever dreamt about; flying.”

The pair sat in companionable silence for a long while, each occasionally casting a stone over the water. “What about you? What did you want to be?” Alex asked her brother curiously.

“A pirate,” he laughed.

“Of course,” Alex joined in his laughter. “I wish I had known you then,” she said a bit sadly.

“Me too,” he said. “What about you? What did you dream of doing? Flying? Sailing the high seas?” Alex grew extremely quiet. “Alex? Hey, I’m sorry…”

“No…no, don’t be. I never thought about that much until lately. When I was really young, I wanted to be a doctor,” she said. Krause studied Alex as she continued. “My YaYa, she was the greatest,” Alex said. “She got sick when I was about five. I remember my mother crying one night in the kitchen. She asked my father why they couldn’t fix her.”

“What was wrong?” he asked.

“Cancer,” Alex answered. “She had a brain tumor; inoperable.”

“I’m sorry,” Krause said.

Alex shrugged. “Anyway, I asked my father that night why they couldn’t fix YaYa.”

“What did he say?” Krause asked.

Alex chuckled. “He told me doctors were like detectives, first they look for all the clues to find what’s wrong and then they put them together. But, he said, sometimes they just can’t find all the pieces in time.”

“Interesting analogy,” Krause said. “And that made you want to be a doctor?”

“I wanted to fix things,” Alex said. “I guess I still do.”

“And here I just wanted to be a pirate,” Krause poked.

“Pirates are cool,” Alex winked. “Jonathan, I….”

“Don’t say it, Alex. We’ll see what Edmond and Jane offer tomorrow and go from there. One way or another...your kids will choose whatever they want to follow for themselves. I promise.”

“Yeah…what happens when they want to be pirates and detectives?” she tried to ask lightly.

Jonathan Krause took his sister’s hand. “Then, we will make sure they know everything there is to know so that they can be the best pirates and detectives there are. They might just surprise you, though,” he said.

“You think?” she asked.

“Yeah. Your kids have a whole lot of Cassidy in them. You’re likely to get teachers and doctors,” he suggested.

“One can only hope,” Alex said.

Eleana Baros walked quietly in through the backdoor of her home. She stopped in her tracks at the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight that quickly unfolded before her. “Claire,” Eleana flew across the room.

Claire Brackett heard the back door open and close softly. She retrieved her pistol from her jacket and headed directly toward the sound; expecting to find one of Ivanov’s minions or one of Taylor’s goons. She shook her head to clear the vision that greeted her. “Eleana?” she called out, falling to her knees slowly.

“Claire, Claire,” Eleana repeated. “Look at me. Look at me.”

Claire Brackett looked up into a pair of bright, hazel eyes and stuttered. She reached her hand to touch Eleana’s cheek. “You’re dead,” she whispered.

The bewilderment in Claire’s eyes broke Eleana’s heart. “No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“You…how can you be here?” Claire began to cry like an infant.

Eleana fell to the floor and wrapped her arms around Claire. “I’m not dead, Claire. It’s okay.”

“I thought you left me,” Claire wept in her lover’s arms.

Eleana held Claire close. She was positive that no one would believe that Claire Brackett was capable of so much emotion. Underneath Claire’s brash exterior, there still resided a hint of innocence. It was the part of Claire that Eleana had fallen so deeply in love with all those years ago. As she felt Claire cling to her now, she realized that she always would love her. “It’s all right,” Eleana assured Claire. “Come on,” she helped the weeping woman to her feet. “Let’s go sit down.”

It took several minutes for Eleana to get Claire settled and composed on the sofa. She took a moment to remove her coat and brought Claire a glass of water. “Here,” she handed Claire the glass.

“How about something stronger?” Claire asked.

Eleana offered her lover a weak smile. “We need to talk,” Eleana said.

“I don’t understand,” Claire replied. “Marcus told me. It was on the news…Eleana, I saw the building…I went to…”

“I know what you were doing,” Eleana said. “You were going to take down Dimitri; right?”

“You were not supposed to be there,” Claire said.

“What about all the other people who were, Claire?” Eleana asked softly, prompting an anxious expression from Claire. Eleana sighed deeply. “Twenty-one people, Claire. No, I didn’t die. Only because of Russ. Twenty-one people did. How could you be a part of that?” she asked. Claire did not answer.

“Oh, Claire. Is it true?” Eleana asked.

“What?”

“You are the one who killed Elliot?” Eleana’s pained expression brought on another wave of Claire’s tears.

“It was an order,” Claire tried to explain.

“I see. What about me?” Eleana asked. “Did you stop and think about me, Claire? Even once, in all of this…When did you stop and think about me?”

“I think about you all the time,” Claire said honestly.

Eleana looked to the ceiling and closed her eyes. “You think about this…about then,” Eleana said. “Is that it? You think about us; what? Having sex? Tell me, Claire…I need to know. What do you think about?”

“I….Eleana…no….I think about you….”

“Claire….you brought O’Brien here? To our place?”

“I wanted to be close to you. You were gone!” Claire defended herself.

“You made love to him in our bed!” Eleana shot back.

“I never made love to him. Never….never to anyone but you,” Claire declared.

“What about my brother? That was just sex? Then you killed him? My brother, Claire!”

“It wasn’t….”

“I know what it wasn’t,” Eleana said. “What were we?”

“What do you mean; what
were
we?” Claire asked.

“What is this?” Eleana gestured to their surroundings. “What does it mean to you?”

“Everything,” Claire said. “It’s the only place I have ever felt….home.”

Eleana’s tears began to fall. She looked at her lover compassionately. “Yes. It was. It was our home. I thought eventually… that would be enough…this place. What it meant to us.”

“It is,” Claire reached for Eleana.

“No. It isn’t. We are not the same people we were, Claire. We’ve chosen different paths,” Eleana said as her tears picked up their pace.

“Don’t you love me?” Claire asked.

“Always,” Eleana answered. “That has never been a question.”

“I love you,” Claire spoke the words and placed a kiss on Eleana’s lips.

Eleana allowed herself one last indulgence. She slipped her hand around Claire’s neck and brought her closer. She could feel the depth of Claire’s emotion. This was the only way that Claire could connect to that. It was always visceral, primal for Claire. As Eleana faded into her lover’s kiss, she realized that she required so much more now than Claire could offer. Part of her screamed to give in to Claire’s needs. Reluctantly, she pulled away and cupped Claire’s face in her hands. “I have to go,” she told Claire.

“Where are you going?” Claire said. “You just got back…. you…”

“This isn’t my home anymore,” Eleana said. It was a realization she wished she could deny. “You stay,” Eleana kissed Claire’s cheek.

“I need you,” Claire grasped for Eleana.

“Maybe. I needed you, Claire; all of you….or maybe that is just what I wanted; I don’t know,” Eleana confessed. “You have to decide what you want.”

“I want you.”

“I know, but you will never be able to commit to that,” Eleana said.

“I’m here,” Claire argued. “I’m always with you.”

“Until the next time,” Eleana pointed out. “And, where was I when you helped Dimitri blow that building?”

“I didn’t….”

“You didn’t press the button. I know. Where was I when you killed Elliot?” Eleana asked.

“Where were you when I thought you were dead?” Claire shouted.

Eleana nodded. She was tempted to take the bait and argue passionately, but something deeper was calling to her. “This is your home, Claire. That’s what I always intended. It’s yours.”

“It’s ours,” Claire said defiantly.

“No,” Eleana said as she reached for her jacket. “Not anymore.”

“Eleana, wait!” Claire caught hold of her lover. “Please, stay. Tell me what you want? Do you want me to quit? Walk away; what?”

“You can’t quit being who you are,” Eleana observed. “We’re different. We always were. Just, now….You still live in the past. What your father wants. What you need to prove. Even this place….”

“Eleana, please….”

Eleana smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Claire said. “I should have said it….”

“I know,” Eleana smiled. “I’ve always known. But, there’s no future for us. I don’t want to live in our past any longer.” Claire closed her eyes. And felt Eleana’s lips tenderly brush over hers. “Be careful, Claire. It’s hard enough losing you once.”

When Claire Brackett finally opened her eyes, Eleana was gone. She closed her eyes again and leaned her head against the door. It felt to Claire as if the only solid thing in her life had just been washed away. They had argued many times. This had been different. There was a finality in Eleana’s kiss that Claire could not deny. She took a deep breath and centered her thoughts, looking back at the home surrounding her. “She’ll be back,” Claire whispered. “Everyone goes home.”

Monday, February 2
^nd

“This is getting out of control!” President Lawrence Strickland screamed. “Jeffrey! Where the hell are our people on this? It’s only been days, and already there are people calling for my impeachment! Jesus! Is this an investigation of a God damned witch hunt?”

“Mr. President, with all due respect, I do not control the international press,” Jeffrey Mansfield said.

“Then you’d better create a damn good counter-offensive,” Strickland ordered. “Who the hell leaked information about Merrow’s inquiries into Taylor? No one knew that but the people in this office! I want to know who it was, and I want a viable story to debunk it.”

“Mr. Mansfield,” Admiral Brackett interrupted carefully. “Can I have a moment with the president, please?” Jeffrey Mansfield threw his hands in the air and left the Oval Office. “You need to calm down, Larry,” Brackett advised. “You are pouring gasoline on the fire.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Strickland asked angrily.

“Calm. I suggest calm. You need to be the eye of the storm if you hope to survive it,” Brackett said. “Plenty of people knew about John’s suspicions. I’ve told you before; this is not a small network. You think because you are sitting in that chair that you are running the show. You aren’t. Not even close. It took almost seventy-five years to build The Collaborative into what it is today. You are just a dot on the map, Larry; a dot that can be easily erased. If Viktor wanted you gone; you would be. Someone does not like the game you and Viktor have been playing,” Brackett said.

“And you, Admiral Brackett? Do you approve? Or are you simply here to watch the show?” Strickland asked.

“I’ve navigated the intelligence arm of The Collaborative for twenty-five years. It’s in my best interest to preserve it,” Brackett said.

“So, you have a suggestion?” Strickland asked.

“Simple, you cross Ivanov.”

“What?” Strickland asked.

“I thought that was pretty straightforward even for you, Larry. You cross Ivanov. Take a hit in the press. Throw Michael Taylor and Christopher O’Brien under the bus. Implicate others. Take them to task and throw away the key. Make examples of them. Become the janitor that you are…and clean house,” Admiral Brackett told the president.

“I take it you have some thoughts on who these sacrificial lambs might be?” Strickland asked.

“Look in your backyard first, Larry. Mr. Mansfield for instance.”

“Jeffrey’s not………”

“Jeffrey’s not who you think he is,” Brackett said flatly.

“And then?” Strickland urged.