The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (7 page)

"Same old Gideon," she snapped. "I would have thought
after the divorce you might have woken up to the truth. Only you can take
responsibility for your daughters." Beth stopped suddenly and when
Gideon's attention was roused by her abrupt hesitation, she continued.
"You have to make the time for them, but you aren't. It's the same old
excuses."

"You don't understand," Gideon argued.

"Oh, yes I do. All too well," Beth snapped. Suddenly
she did not care if Jamieson or anyone else heard them arguing.

"Are you going to let me see them or lecture me all night?"

Beth glared at Gideon, and then turned to Jamieson, who was
watching them intently while waiting to see if Beth needed assistance. Her face
was red. Even after three years of divorce Gideon frustrated her to the point
of madness. She quickly turned away from both men so neither could see the pain
she was in.

"You're looking good, Beth." Gideon said softly as
he reached for her. Whatever they'd had cooled a long time ago, but Gideon
remembered still how much a compliment meant to her.

Beth turned to him. A smile crossed her sad face. "You
always were a smooth talker when you wanted your way."

"Just ten minutes, what harm would that do?"

"Then you'd never follow the court-ordered
visitations."

"It's hard, Beth." Gideon rubbed his forehead to
take away the pain, but nothing helped.

Beth raised her eyebrows, and then quickly added, "You
make time for Colby." She always knew the right moment to drive in the
wooden stake.

"That's different." Gideon turned to her. It was the
same old argument they had on many other occasions during their married years.
He did not want to listen to her anymore; all he wanted was to run, but he
could not.

"Tell me about it," Beth said sharply. She
challenged him to answer. Her face was devoid of emotion. It was as if she did
not know the man in front of her as she continued. "Gideon, for twelve
years I watched you go running off whenever Colby called."

"That isn't true."

"You shouldn't have left me alone with Eddie that
night."

Whenever their arguments turned to Eddie, Beth lost her
beauty. Her eyes got wild, the corner of her mouth curled, and all the hate
that built up through their years of marriage came pouring out.

"That's not fair."

"It isn't?" she snapped. "Never a night goes
by, that I don't relive it." Beth pointed an accusing finger at him. Her
mouth twitched as she continued spewing the venom. "I didn't want to be
alone. But, God forbid, Colby had to talk to you..." She paused as if to
get his attention. But she had it, along with everybody else in the lobby that
evening. "You left me with a dying boy in a hospital room and no one to
turn to."

Eddie was his son, too. He was everything a son should have
been. That was up until he turned two, when spinal meningitis struck. Gideon
and Beth stayed with him night and day until the evening Colby called. How was
he to know his son would not last through the night? By the time he made it
back from Langley the hospital staff was stripping down the little crib and
scouring out the room.

Gideon had a hard time dealing with his son's death and being
there for Beth too. After that his work became an obsession. It was the only
time he did not have to face the woman he'd promised to love and cherish in
sickness and health, when actually he had deserted her the one time she'd
needed him most. It was a hard cross to bear, even for him. Although they'd had
two daughters after that, things were never quite the same. The void Eddie left
was never filled, and too much bitterness separated the once-innocent love they
had shared.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" Gideon
whispered. He looked away as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"That's just it. You think you can say I'm sorry every
time and just come waltzing in here as if nothing was wrong."

"What do you want me to do?"

Beth turned to him. "You have to ask?"

Beth walked over to the window, leaving an escape route open
for Gideon, but he did not take it. When he did not leave Beth turned to him
again. "Did it ever occur to you, that I needed you too?"

"Yes, but I had a job."

"Some job," she snapped. "Tell the girls where
you go off to. Why don't you tell them the truth about what you do?"

"Beth, I don't want to go into this again," Gideon
said, looking away.

"How many men have you killed for Colby?" Beth
asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Gideon, look at me!" she
yelled.

"Keep your voice down," Gideon whispered as he
glanced at Jamieson who was curious about the argument, along with everyone
else in the lobby at that moment.

"Why else do you have his private number? What possible
reason would he have to call you away from your son's deathbed? And you,
Gideon, were fool enough to go to him."

Gideon walked up to Beth, reached for her arm, then quietly
asked again, "Are you going to let me see the girls?"

Beth looked up at Gideon, and then snapped her arm from his
reach. "What do you think? Visiting hours are Friday through Sunday, every
other week. You miss that and you can forget a reprieve."

"So that's how it's going to be."

"You got that right."

Gideon touched Beth's cheek gently, her head leaned into his
hand and she felt the shivers go up her spine. Gideon still had an effect on
her, even after the bitter divorce. But too much was still unresolved between
them and now was not the time or place to set things right.

"I'm sorry I hurt you so," Gideon whispered softly
as he looked into the sad eyes of the woman he'd once loved.

Tears continued streaming down her cheeks as they stood there
for a moment, neither moving nor saying more. When she did finally speak, her
voice was calmer, more in control than before.

"Do you still carry the picture?"

Gideon looked away. He did not have to answer. Beth could see
in his face that the picture was still in his wallet.

"Gideon, you can't go on pining over a picture forever.
You have to get on with your life."

"Is that why you're having termination papers drawn
up?"

"It's Arthur's idea," she lied, but feared Gideon
already knew the truth.

"I won't sign them." Gideon shook his head as if to
reaffirm to Beth he meant what he said.

"It's for the girls’ sake."

"They are still my little girls."

"Gideon, Cathy is ten and Samantha's eight. They aren't
little girls anymore. They need a father and Arthur is willing to be that for
them."

"I won't give them up without a fight."

"At this point you have no choice," Beth snapped as
she walked away from him.

Gideon could not take his eyes off Beth as she walked toward
the elevator. Once she reached the gray metal doors she stopped, then wiped her
eyes and turned for one last look at Gideon. But all Gideon could do was manage
a weak smile as he walked off toward the door.

Gideon was drained of all energy, had been for days now. The
whole sordid affair with Delaney was dredging up old memories and wounds that
even time could not heal. He wondered what part Ambassador Wayne played in the
information Delaney had, or even if he had a part at all. But then he quickly
walked out of the lobby and put that thought out of his head.

Gideon climbed into the little red sports car and put the key
in the ignition. He ran the car through its gears and let the wind sweep
through his hair. For a brief moment he stopped caring about all that had
troubled him earlier as he sped down the street and maneuvered in traffic.

* * *

Tuesday,
September 13, 1977

Jenny woke to a light tapping at the front door. She rolled
over and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Seven-thirty was hardly a good
time for visitors. When she heard it again she slowly got up. Jenny reached for
her robe and glanced in the next room at Trish sleeping soundly. She would be
there for another three hours. Jenny walked into the living room and looked
through the peephole at her landlady standing there with a plate covered with a
white linen napkin. Jenny smiled to herself as she opened the door.

"Thought you might like to try some fresh sweet rolls I
just baked." Mrs. Bennett was still in her apron. Her gray hair pulled
tightly back in a neat bun and flour dusted her cheeks, making her look like a
novice in the kitchen, but her fresh baked goods contested to her efficiency in
that field.

Jenny took the plate, gently lifted the cloth, and smiled.
"They look delicious," she said, forgetting the hour or her earlier
annoyance.

"Did I wake you?"

"The alarm was about to go off in a few minutes."
Jenny shrugged her shoulders, and then took Mrs. Bennett's arm. "Come on
in, I'll make us a pot of coffee."

Jenny put the plate on the coffee table and walked into the
kitchen.

"I forgot about yesterday," Mrs. Bennett said as she
sat down on the couch.

"Don't worry. Benjamin didn't forget." Jenny glanced
at Mrs. Bennett, and then smiled.

"He's such a good friend to have Jenny."

"That he is." Jenny sighed.

She walked into the kitchen, took the coffee grounds out of
the canister and quickly measured out the right amount. Within a few minutes
the apartment was filled with the aroma of fresh brew.

"Your mother called looking for you last night. It was
late, so I told her I would give you the message this morning."

"I'll be sure to call her back."

"When she asked how you were holding up, I remembered
what day it was."

Jenny glanced at Mrs. Bennett as she stepped into the living
room. She set the two cups on the table, and then reached for the elderly
woman's hand.

"You miss him too, don't you?" Jenny choked on the
words.

A tear rolled slowly down the elderly woman's cheek. "If
Mr. Bennett and I had a son, we would have wanted him to be just like
John."

"He felt the same way about you too."

John's parents had died in a car accident when he was only
seven. An old maid aunt who died his senior year in high school raised him.
There was no other family and the friends he made filled that void in his life.
John treated each and every person he met as if they were special. Jenny felt
the bond he built with those people long before she'd married him. In his absence
their love for him flowed over to her. She felt so lucky. John was still
bringing her joy through them.

They sat there talking just as they had since John's departure
years earlier, and reminisced about times gone by. It was almost eight-thirty
when Mrs. Bennett finally got up to leave. Jenny quickly showered and readied
herself for work.

Before leaving she walked over to the two sketches on the wall
as she did every morning. She stood there for a few moments, then reached over
and touched the cool glass that separated her warm hand from the image of the
man she loved.

CHAPTER 6

Gideon had spent the night in Delaney's hospital room crouched
in a chair behind the door. It was cold and he was cramped, but given the
alternative of a streetlight flicking all night, it had to do. The smell of
disinfectant and the tiresome beeping of the heart monitor was not enough to
deter his sleep, but the night nurse coming in every hour on the hour to take
Delaney's vital signs caused Gideon to wake throughout the night.

As the morning sun filtered in through the closed curtains,
the realization that twenty-four hours had passed since the incident in the
park hit home. All Gideon could do was watch the bed and the movement of
Delaney's chest as each breath filled his lungs.

Slowly Delaney opened his eyes. In the hazy dimness of the
room he focused on the man in the corner. It startled him at first, not knowing
if he should be afraid or jubilant. His heart pounded fiercely for a brief
moment as he remembered bits and pieces of what had happened in the park.
Delaney was not sure anymore who his enemies were. His eyes darted around the
room. He tried to talk, but only a gurgling echo of air could be heard from his
throat. Delaney struggled with the bonds. He looked at his wrist and followed
the tubes to the little bag of dark liquid as the monitor started beating
faster. Delaney leaned back while shutting his eyes.

"Don't talk, you've had a tracheotomy," Gideon said,
getting up quickly. He put his hand on Delaney's shoulder, squeezed tight, and
then leaned forward. "I have to know what's going down."

Delaney slowly shook his head no. He tried to talk again, but
nothing came out, only the sound of air as it gurgled though the tube. He
motioned with his head for Gideon to untie the restraints. Delaney watched as
Gideon undid the ties, and then pointed to the pen and pad on the hospital
tray. With watchful eyes, Delaney followed Gideon's every move.

"Are you going to tell me?" Gideon asked again.

Delaney slowly scrawled. "Go to hell."

"We have to know where it's going down." Gideon said
as he leaned over the railing.

"I almost died!" Delaney wrote.

"Why Wayne?" Gideon continued. "Has it anything
to do with his visit to Egypt last week?" Gideon waited a moment while he
watched Delaney's reaction to what he said. There was nothing, only
indifference.

Delaney quickly scrawled some more words. "Leave me
alone." He then slammed the pen and pad on the tray and just stared
straight ahead.

"Not until you talk to me."

Delaney forced a smile while raising his hands at his helpless
condition. Finally after a few moments he picked up the pen and quickly wrote
another message. "What part of no, don't you understand?"

"You bastard." Gideon grabbed the hospital gown,
raising Delaney off the bed. The monitor beeps quickened, within moments the
door swung open. Gideon quickly released his grip on Delaney, and then walked
to the end of the bed.

"Is there a problem in here?" The young nurse asked.

"He's fine," Gideon snapped.

The nurse glanced at Delaney for reassurance. "You
okay?" she asked.

Delaney nodded. The nurse stood there a few moments, and then
turned and left. Gideon was sure she would be back with reinforcements next
time.

Standing at the end of the bed Gideon stared at Delaney while
hanging onto the metal railing. "Do you have family?" Gideon asked,
as he watched Delaney nervously look around the room as if searching for the
answer. "I could contact them for you."

Delaney's father would never understand the life he lived or
the choice he'd made five and a half years ago. Delaney did not even understand
it anymore. At the time he would have given anything to live, but the life he
led now was not at all what he called living. It was not what one would even
call existing. He almost envied John Hamilton. He had chosen his end back in
Vietnam rather than sell his soul to the devil's advocate.

"Are you going to answer me?"

A tear rolled down Delaney's cheek as he shook his head. Even
after all these years he could not face them.

"You have to trust me," Gideon pleaded. He walked
closer to the nightstand and leaned over the bed. This time he did not touch
the man, yet still the beats on the monitor quickened.

Delaney frowned, before mouthing the words, "Sure, like
yesterday."

"They know you're here, they could try again."

Delaney picked up the pad and pen, and then quickly wrote,
"And you will protect me?" A mocking hollow sound came from Delaney
as he handed the pad to Gideon.

"Unless you give us something, Colby calls this
off."

"He wouldn't." Delaney tried to say as he stared at
Gideon searching for a clue as to whether Gideon was serious about the threat.

"You better think about it," Gideon snapped, knowing
it was blackmail, but if it was the only way to get Delaney to talk, so be it.

Delaney shut his eyes. He was tired and scared; all he wanted
was for the killing to stop, but he knew it could never be. The only thing he
could really hope for were the nightmares to end.

Once Gideon was done with Delaney he walked down the hall to
Ambassador Wayne's room. There were three guards posted outside. After
yesterday's botched job, no one was taking any chances. Gideon entered the room
without any trouble, he knew the agents outside from yesterday morning. Wayne
was lying comfortably in his paisley pajamas watching the morning news. The
bullet wound was superficial so he was due to be released later that morning.

"Pardon me," Wayne said in his English drawl while
looking up at the man entering the room. He watched Gideon approach the bed,
and quickly grabbed for the button to summon the guard, but suddenly Gideon
snatched it from his reach.

"No, I want to talk to you about yesterday." Gideon
let go of the button and reached in his pocket.

"Guards!" Wayne called out.

The guards entered the room just as Gideon showed Wayne his
badge.

The ambassador breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, you're one
of those," he said with raised eyebrows.

"I have to talk to you about yesterday."

Wayne motioned to the guards. They turned and walked back out.
"What's to say?"

"A lot. Like why are you on the KGB's hit list?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask the chap down the hall.
Oh, but isn't he an American?"

"He was," Gideon said under his breath.

"How should I know why someone wants me killed?"

"It has something to do with your visit at the Egyptian
Ambassador's residence last week. Where are the talks being held?"

"How do you know about all of that?"

"It doesn't take a genius to guess what's going down.
Christ, the KGB knows more than we do. That should tell you it isn’t ever going
to happen."

"The agency is out of it. Carter's orders were clear on
that." Wayne snapped as he sat up in his bed, and then crossed his arms.
The determination on his face told Gideon he had nothing more to say.

It was a stalemate. Wayne was not going to betray confidences.
Finally, after half an hour of trying to convince the ambassador otherwise,
Gideon gave up all hope of learning what it was that Wayne knew and Delaney was
willing to die for in order that the right people were informed.

* * *

Once Gideon left his room, Delaney sighed with relief. He
caught a glimpse of the guard outside and figured he would be safe for now. He
stared at the window, wondering if he would ever see another sunrise. Up until
that point, what he'd done really had not mattered in the scheme of things. The
men he killed were bad and deserved to die. It was the only way he could
justify doing any of it. But now, what was going to go down would affect world
peace, and for the first time he could not justify the intervention. All he wanted
was for the killings to stop.

Just then the door opened and a nurse walked in. It startled
him out of his self-revelation. Delaney looked up at her short blonde hair with
ringlets that haloed her face. Even in the dimly lit room, Delaney could tell
she was pretty as she reached above the bed and turned on the light. The big
blue eyes that stared back at him mesmerized Delaney. A smile crossed the young
woman's face as he looked at her nametag. He instantly liked Cindy for some
reason. She reminded him of his sister, Kate. A sharp pain went through him at
the fond memories of family and home because Delaney knew they could never be
anything more than a memory for him.

Cindy took hold of his wrist, and then counted the faint beats
while the thermometer was tucked under his tongue. Once she had all the data,
Cindy turned to Delaney and smiled again.

"How are we feeling this morning?" She did not wait
for him to answer, just ran the back of her hand along his chin. "You need
a shave, Mr. Hamilton."

Delaney could feel the tingle of her touch. Her smile warmed
him deep inside, stirring feelings he suppressed long ago when he'd chosen this
life. It felt good after years of avoiding the female gender because of his
trade in life. Delaney picked up the tablet and quickly wrote a few words.
"I could use a bath too." he wrote, and then smiled at the young
woman.

"I don't do baths," Cindy raised her eyebrows and
smiled.

Her smile was pleasant and almost made him forget why he was
there.

"What time is it?" he wrote, then handed the pad to
Cindy.

Cindy glanced at her watch. "Seven thirty," she
replied.

Delaney quickly scrawled. "Could I at least get a
shave?"

Cindy glanced down at him, and then turned to the door.
"I suppose I could. You would feel much better." She ran her hand
over the stubbles of his beard. "I'll be right back."

Delaney watched her disappear out the door. It did not take
long before she returned with a little packet wrapped in clear plastic. She
walked into the bathroom and he heard running water. Within minutes Cindy was
back with a pan of warm water in one hand, a towel and the packet in the other.
Cindy set everything on the hospital tray in front of him. Delaney watched
Cindy intently as she lathered his face and carefully shaved away the stubbles.
She was cautious around his neck bandages. It felt good to be taken care of and
felt even better to have a woman dote over him.

Once done, Cindy wiped away the excess lather, and then picked
up the mirror that lay on the table and handed it to Delaney. He mouthed the
words "Thank you," and smiled at the blonde goddess.

"That's what I'm here for."

He set the mirror down and picked up the pad. "Can you
stay?" Delaney wrote.

Cindy glanced at her watch; she was on rounds and did not have
time, but nodded her head anyway. "I only have a few minutes."

She did most of the talking and Delaney figured Cindy Malone
was used to talking to people who were unable to answer. He managed to
communicate with her through writing. But most of their talk only required a
nod of the head, which was easy for him. Delaney knew as long as she was there
he was safe, and he liked that feeling. Even though the armed guard was
stationed outside, he still felt uneasy. In time he would have to trust
someone, but whom? He was not sure. All he knew was that a stranger like Cindy
was more worthy of his trust than the men he'd sought out to protect him.

Cindy got up finally, smiled, and then said, "I better
get going. I'm already late for rounds."

"Can't you stay?" Delaney wrote quickly with a pleading
look in his eyes.

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I'll
check in on you tomorrow."

"Promise?" Delaney mouthed.

She smiled, and then patted his hand. "Don't worry,
you're in good hands."

Delaney grabbed Cindy's arm. With the other he motioned for
her to wait a moment. He quickly scrawled a note. "Would you do me a
favor?"

"Sure. What?" Cindy answered reluctantly, and then
waited for his response.

"Give someone a note."

Delaney wrote down the name and the address of the University
where he knew Jenny Hamilton worked. He scrawled a quick message, and then
handed both slips of paper to Cindy.

Delaney had Jenny Hamilton checked out a long time ago when he
decided to use her husband's identity. He purposely avoided that area of the
city, for fear he would raise suspicion or run into someone who knew the real
John Hamilton.

He did not know if what he said would get Jenny to come, or
for that matter what he expected of her. But he knew one thing: he had to tell
the woman her husband was dead. He would decide when she got there if he would
trust her with more.

Delaney patted Cindy's hand, and then mouthed the word,
"Thanks."

Cindy walked to the door. She turned and forced a smile. When
the door shut behind her, Delaney rested his head on the pillow. He shut his
eyes while listening to the heart monitor and wondered how long he would be
tied to machines. His only hope was that Ian could not get to him. His side
throbbed now that the hypo was wearing off. If Ian found him, there would not
be anything to worry about. Ian would see to that.