Chapter 30
December,
Making her way to the north side of the lobby,
Above the rows of stars, she read the
inscription carved into the wall, "In honor of those members of the
Central Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their
country." An American and CIA flag flanked either side of the stars,
providing the only splashes of color against the soft
grey marble.
“There’s a memorial book, if you’re looking for
a particular name.”
“Thank-you,” she shook her head no and turned
back toward the wall. The man lingered
momentarily, considering the raw pain he glimpsed in Army officer’s eyes. Sensing he had intruded on a private moment, he
melted away.
Raising her eyes to the words inscribed above
the entrance,
“Alex,” she said softly, “I will never forget
your truth.”
With that, she moved back to the wall, kissed
the tips of her fingers, and pressed them to the dark star at the end of the
last row. Then, placing her beret back
on her head, she turned away from the wall and made her way out of the building
into the cold December morning.
Chapter 31
January, 1984
Devon struggled to push the final two reps on
her bench press, the muscles in her arms straining, her right triceps screaming
at her. Sweat pouring out of every pore
in her skin she forced the bar upward with a loud grunt. Last one.
You can do this. She was
desperate to get her arm and leg fully functional at last. The bar swayed and dipped dangerously to the
right as Devon groaned loudly fighting to keep from dropping the weight. Hands came from behind her grasping the bar
firmly and placing the weights onto the cleats.
“You shouldn’t do that without a spotter.” Devon’s head snapped around at the sound of
the familiar voice. Mac stood grinning down at her as Devon’s face light up She
jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Mac’s neck, the two women
embracing each other fully.
“Oh, my God,” Devon exclaimed, “what are you
doing here?” She hadn’t seen Mac since
the day after the bombing three months before when they had transferred her to
the military hospital in Germany before shipping her finally stateside at
Walter Reed for her rehab. She was
pleased to see that Mac looked well.
“Well, I had my choice of station after Beirut,
and I love D.C., so I figured, why not spend my last six months here?” Mac studied Devon’s face, noting the sadness
still dulling her usually crisp blue eyes and the dark hollows around
them. She was thinner than Mac
remembered and she looked down at the ace wrap on the other woman’s left
thigh. “How’s the leg?”
“Better, thanks.
I just keep the wrap on it while I’m working out. Doc says the nerves are still healing and
that gives me fits sometimes, but I’m just glad to be able to feel it,” Devon
shrugged, looking around her at the soldiers, sailors and marines who had lost
limbs or worse, “I know how fortunate I am.”
She picked up a white towel and wiped sweat from her face and neck.
“You still didn’t answer the question,” Devon
regarded Mac with a raised eyebrow, “what are you doing here.” She
pointed to the floor for emphasis.
Mac chuckled and put an arm around her friend’s
shoulder as they walked to the locker room.
She winced at Devon’s obvious limp.
“As I said, I am stationed here again, with First Army at Meade. I arrived yesterday morning.” They stopped and moved aside as a female
soldier, left leg amputated below the knee made her way past them on crutches
toward the physical therapy area.
The woman nodded a greeting to them as she
passed, “Captain.” She addressed Mac,
who was in uniform wearing her desert fatigues.
Mac nodded in return, “Good morning soldier,”
she smiled.
She continued her explanation as they stepped
into the locker room, “I knew you were back at NSA, so I inquired with Petty
Officer Baxter, who is very cute by the way, and she said you were here
for your PT and working out. That’s it.
Here I am.”
Devon saw a twinkle in Mac’s eye briefly at the
mention of Ann’s name and she smiled to herself. That’s a discussion for later over a beer.
She pulled on dark green sweat pants and a thick grey sweatshirt that said
AIRBORNE across the front. Mac picked up
the gym bag for Devon.
“I can get that,” Devon protested.
Mac rolled her eyes, “Yes, I know, always the
independent one. But just shut up and
let’s go.”
“Okay, but I buy dinner tonight.” She was unable
to conceal her delight at the prospect of having dinner with Mac. She had been so alone since coming back,
unable to talk to anyone about her pain.
It would be good to have the company of someone she didn’t have to
explain it to. She and Mac had survived
that horrific experience and it would bond them for life.
“You have yourself a deal,” Mac returned as she
threw Devon’s bag behind the seat of her black pickup before climbing behind
the wheel as Devon got into the passenger side.
Chapter 32
After dinner, Mac drove them to a small bar in
Baltimore for a couple of beers. The
Club Mitchell was known for its weekend crowds when the small space was packed
with women moving to the pulsating dance music and enjoying a few drinks in the
company of other women. On weeknights,
the club was a quieter place encouraging conversation in a relaxing
atmosphere.
Devon nodded hello to several women she
recognized from the base as they crossed the room and claimed a small table
against the wall. Mac went to the bar as
Devon sat surveying her surroundings.
Devon noticed a dark haired woman at the bar watching Mac as she
approached. The woman shifted on her
stool to get a better view and seemed to be studying her with interest as Mac
stepped around to the far corner to get the bartenders attention. The admirer followed with her eyes as Mac
returned to the table with their beer and Devon laughed to herself.
“Sorry, they were out of Maccabee,” Mac said as
she set down two bottles of Heineken when she returned, taking a seat opposite
Devon at the table.
“Unbelievable,” Devon feigned outrage.
Mac raised her bottle in Devon’s direction, “To
your continued recovery.”
Devon tapped her bottle to Mac’s, “To
friendship.” Both women drank and sat
back in their chairs. Mac scrutinized
her for a few moments, watching the way Devon scanned the room with apparently
little interest in what she saw. Not
that Mac expected her to be cruising the club; it was more like her eyes were
mirroring the emptiness in her soul. She
remembered when they’d first met, how Devon had so fiercely guarded her
privacy. Slowly they had become friends
and Mac believed that they had earned each other’s trust. Although she knew instinctively that the bond
that they shared was strong, Mac recognized the distant expression had returned
to her friend’s eyes. The shields had once again been reinstalled around her
heart.
“So, the award ceremony is tomorrow. You want to meet me for breakfast
beforehand?”
“I’m not going.” Devon said flatly.
“You have to go.”
“I can’t Mac.” Her eyes were tortured as she
looked back.
“You don’t really have a choice in the
matter. The President will be
there. This is a big deal. You’re a real American hero and –”
“I’m not!” Devon’s eyes blazed now, “There were
so many brave people over there, let them give them the medals.” Her voice fell
to a pained whisper, “I didn’t do enough.”
“I was there, remember? So, don’t tell me what
you didn’t do.” Mac spoke in a soft but firm tone. She raised her hand to stop
Devon’s protest. “As I was saying, you can’t refuse to go. You have an order to be there. You still know
how to follow an order, don’t you?”
Devon didn’t respond. After surviving that
nightmare, the search and rescue, the endless bodies, Alex dying, her own bullet
wounds seemed to be deserved. The thought of getting medals pinned on her chest
as some kind of reward—it just seemed obscene. But, she knew Mac was right, she
couldn’t get out of going.
Mac grasped Devon’s hand that rested on the
table. “Hey, how ya doing?”
Devon’s eyes couldn’t hide the pain as she
looked at her friend, nor could she stop the tears that sprung unexpectedly to
her eyes. Mac was there, she saw what
Devon saw. She witnessed the tearing of
Devon’s very soul the moment they found Alex’s lifeless body lying in the sand.
Devon cut her eyes to the table, unable to bear the pained expression that
looked a lot like sympathy in Mac’s eyes.
She drew a ragged breath and drained the beer in her hand. Unable to think of a dismissive comment in
the face of the person who really knew her
loss, Devon rasped, “Surviving.”
She forced a smile and stood. “My turn to get us a round.”
Mac watched Devon limp toward the bar but Devon
had not brought the cane tonight. She
could see the outward healing was progressing; it was the internal torment that
she fervently hoped Devon could get past.
The haunted look in her eyes told Mac that the demons were alive and
well in Devon’s dreams.
Devon returned to their table with fresh beers
intent on steering the conversation to something other than herself. She really wasn’t ready to examine her
feelings or delve deeply into her psyche.
Devon found comfort in Mac’s presence, it was enough that she
understood, she had no desire to lay bare the still raw places of her heart by
speaking of the hurt aloud.
The brunette at the bar was looking over at
their table again. Seeing a way to
redirect the conversation, Devon tilted her head in that direction. “It seems
you have an admirer.”
Mac glanced up and chuckled softly. “No, I don’t
think so.” A blush crept over her face, making Devon laugh. Again, Mac shook her head no.
“Why do you say no?” Devon teased, “You could be eye candy.” Both women laughed out loud at that and Mac
punched Devon’s shoulder softly.
“Speaking of which,” Devon continued, raising an
eyebrow at her friend, “So you think that Ann Baxter is cute, huh?”
Again, the color rose in Mac’s cheeks, “You are
something else tonight.”
“You’re stalling.”
With a huge sigh, Mac allowed, “Yes, I do.”
A grin split Devon’s face. “Well, then, I guess
we’ll have to all go out so you can get acquainted.”
Chapter 33
Devon shoved through the double doors of the
auditorium into the brilliant sunshine of the cold clear winter afternoon. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to
the sun, gulping the fresh air, trying to erase the suffocating feeling that
had gripped her during the ceremony.
Leaning against a large maple tree as she felt her stomach begin to
heave, she struggled against the onslaught of horrific images that now flashed
across her inner lids. That did it. She doubled over and vomited in the grass.
A warm hand pressed against her back and rubbed
small circles between her shoulder blades.
When her stomach stopped lurching, a hand appeared in front of her face
offering a white handkerchief.
“Here, buddy.” She guided Devon to a nearby
bench, “sit here a minute while I get you some water.”
Devon nodded and rested her elbows on her knees,
cradling her head in her hands. Mac
returned with a bottle of water and handed it to her. “Drink,” she said sitting down next to
Devon. After they sat a few minutes in
silence, her head cleared and she felt a bit steadier.
Devon grinned sheepishly at Mac, “Well, at least
I didn’t throw up on the President.”
Mac shook her head and laughed, but her eyes
conveyed her worry. “Dev, you have to
give yourself a break, okay? I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but eventually
you will find a place for the pain and you will be able to think about Alex
without it.”
The D.C. ceremony was to honor those who served
in Beirut. Ribbons were presented to all
service members who served in the Beirut multinational forces, and individual
medals were presented as well. The ISA
unit was awarded the Meritorious Unit Award for their successful mission just
before the bombing to eliminate the terrorist camp. Devon and countless others were awarded
Purple Hearts for their wounds suffered in battle. Nearly everyone was awarded additional
meritorious service medals for their bravery and life saving efforts the day of
the bombing. Mac was awarded the Army
Air Medal exemplary service of a pilot on a flying mission under direct enemy
fire.
Up to that point in the ceremony, Devon seemed
fine. But when the last two were
presented to her, Mac saw her control begin to falter. Mac knew that she was going to receive the
additional honors, because she had written the citations for the Major. Devon was the recipient of the Silver Star
and the Distinguished Service Cross, two of the highest awards of honor that
can be given to a member of the armed forces.
She was given the award for bravery under fire, risking her own life to
save Captain Armstrong on the day of their operation, and for again placing her
own life in danger in rescuing the CIA Agents.
At the mention of the CIA agents, Mac could see
her friend shaking slightly and a sweat begin to break out on her brow. After the President pinned the last medal on
her chest and stepped away, Mac leaned closer, “Easy does it, Dev, we’re almost
there.”
Now, Mac regarded her friend in the sunlight,
her heart aching for Devon. She felt the
rage and terror sometimes when the memories came unrelenting, reminding her of
unspeakable horrors that they had witnessed.
She could not imagine in adding such a personal tragedy on that
insidious day. For her and most of the
others, the medals would be part of the healing process, and in time be sources
of pride. But she could see that for
Devon, they would forever be a reminder of Alex.
#
“Devon! Please help me!” Alex’s cry was muffled but unmistakable as
Devon dug frantically through the pile of debris and rubble.
She clawed through the earth, unmindful of the
rocks and shards of metal and glass that cut her hands as she dug. The wind blew clouds of dust that stung her
eyes and blurred her vision, but she didn’t need to see, she could feel the
dirt and rocks in her hands as she worked.
Relentlessly, she continued, determined to find her. Again, she heard Alex call to her, but her
voice was weaker now. “I’m coming,
Alex! I swear, I’m almost there!” She dug faster now, chest heaving from
exertion. “Please hold on, I’m
coming.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder that stopped her
movements. Looking up, she couldn’t make
out any features, only a dark shadowy form that pointed away from where she was
digging. “No,” she said to the shadow,
“I have to keep going, I can’t leave her.”
The figure pointed again and she was propelled by an unseen force,
walking in the direction indicated. She
could see a still form on the ground face down in front of her. She rushed toward the woman, turning her
over, revealing Alex’s lifeless stare that bored into her. As she sank to her knees, a hollow voice
boomed, “You’re too late, you failed
her.”
“No! Please, I didn’t know! Alex!”
Devon woke drenched in sweat and shaking in the
darkness, hands fisted in the sheets.
Disoriented, she sat up as her eyes darted around the still room until
she realized that she was in her apartment in Maryland. The clock on the nightstand read 0223. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she
wrapped her arms around her legs and held her forehead in the palms of her
hands. As her breathing slowed to normal
she got up and pulled on the grey sweats that were lying on the floor next to
the bed, then she walked on shaky legs to the kitchen to get a glass of
water.
The award ceremony had stirred up so many
emotions that Devon had been jumpy they rest of the day. She declined Mac’s dinner invitation, not
wanting to impose her mood on anyone else.
Self recrimination ruled her thoughts.
If she hadn’t been so self-absorbed in her own quest to be the one to
strike at the terrorists, would Alex still be alive? Had she pushed her into some kind of bullshit
competition to see which one of them would win the race? Win?
Is that what she was trying to do? Beat
Alex? Like it was some fucking
game?
She stood in front of the large window. Outside the snow fell silently, shrouding
everything in white, blurring reality.
It concealed the edges, rendering ordinary objects unrecognizable. Her focus shifted to her own reflection in
the glass. One more thing she didn’t
recognize anymore—maybe she didn’t want to.
You killed her. “You and your fucking ego,” she growled at
her reflection.
Devon sat on the couch watching the snow fall
silently outside, knowing sleep would not come again this night.
Chapter 34
Ann Baxter couldn’t contain her smile when she
saw the blond lieutenant walking across the operations area toward where she
was seated plotting fixes on targets shot during the previous shift. She had seen on the March duty roster
notation that Devon might be back to work the next week, depending on her
medical release.
“Hey, boss!”
Devon followed her to the outer office area and
the two women embraced tightly fully for a long moment. “You are a beautiful sight,” Ann she stepped
back to look Devon up and down.
“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself,” Devon
said affectionately.
“When will you be back to work?”
“Well, other than needing to spend a few hours a
week at physical therapy, I’m back right now.”
Devon laughed as Ann pumped her fist in the air. “So, I was kinda hoping that you would have
some work for me.”
“Always the comedian,” Ann shook her head, “I
think you have that backwards.”
“I don’t think so.” Devon shook her head,
“Everyone around here knows who runs this place. You and Janice.” Devon grinned again referring to the
division’s secretary. Ann got them both
a cup of coffee and they spent some time catching up on the events while Devon
was overseas.
“You scared the hell out of me,” Ann said
seriously. “We heard about the bombing,
and then that you were shot. God, what a nightmare,” She closed her eyes and
shuddered slightly.
Devon’s eyes grew dark with a distant pain. Ann realized that Devon also lost her college
friend from the CIA, she felt stupid for bringing up the terrible memory. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” What an idiot! Shut your mouth.
“It’s alright, Ann,” Devon forced a smile for
her friend. “Listen, the real reason I came by,” Devon changed the subject, “is
to invite you to dinner with a friend of mine.”
Ann raised her eyebrow suspiciously. “What, a
blind date?”
“No!” Devon assured her, “I mean all three of
us. But, hey, if you two hit it off, I’ll happily make myself scarce.” She smiled broadly as Ann rolled her
eyes. Devon gave Ann a sad, pathetic
look. “Please?”
“Oh, alright,” Ann agreed reluctantly.
“Great!” Devon exclaimed, “How’s tomorrow
night?”
“You better be planning on taking me somewhere
really nice, and I’m not buying either.”
Devon couldn’t contain her pleasure. “No, Ma’am.
I would never ask a lady out and expect her to pay. We will be honored with the pleasure of your
fine company.” Her eyes regained some of
the sparkle that Ann loved.
“Okay, then,” Devon said as she got up to leave,
“we’ll pick you up at six thirty. Wear
something nice for the seafood house on the Inner Harbor, you know, dressy
casual. Then we’ll see where we go after
dinner to party the night away.” Devon
smiled one last time at Ann as she stepped out the door.
“Wait, what’s her name?” Ann called after Devon.
Devon turned back toward the doorway, “Mac.”
“Mac? Are you sure…” Ann’s question was swallowed up by the noise
in the computer room as she watched Devon walk out the door at the far end of
the room. “Lord, what have I let her talk me into,” she muttered to herself as
she got back to work.
#
Dinner was wonderful, the food and atmosphere of
the seafood waterfront restaurant was everything that the advertising
promised. Add to that the great company
and the evening was off to a roaring success.
Ann was wearing black slacks that clung nicely to her hips and a cream colored
v-neck sweater that was cut just low enough to show off the barest hint of her
full breasts. She and Mac had hit it off
wonderfully and Devon was pleased that her friends were enjoying
themselves. To her surprise, she found
that she was as well.
They stood in line outside, feeling the chill of
the night air. Seeing Ann shiver and
wrap her arms around her body, Mac removed her navy jacket, placing it over the
smaller woman’s shoulders. She was
wearing snug fitting black jeans and a starched white cotton shirt.
“Thanks,” Ann smiled at Mac, “but I don’t want
you to get cold.”
“I’m fine,” Mac said, smiling when Ann leaned
into her body. Mac responded by wrapping
an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in more closely. Devon grinned ear to ear and caught Mac’s eye
as they stepped ahead of her into the club. Mac winked.
Inside the club was filling up fast with
women. The pulsing of the base in the
dance music vibrated inside their bodies as they made their way through the
crowd, lucky to secure a table in the back.
Devon went to the bar for drinks, deliberately leaving Ann and Mac alone
for a few minutes. She caught the
bartender’s eye and soon was returning to the table with three beers and three
shots of whiskey, thankful that she no longer needed her cane. As she approached the table, she saw Mac
leaning in close and saying something in Ann’s ear, whatever it was making Ann
laugh.
“Here we are ladies,” Devon announced placing
the beers down and then passing the shot glasses to each woman.
“To friends,” Devon raised her glass and smiling
at the women seated across the table.
“To friends,” they rejoined, as they all downed
the shot.
A bit later Mac asked Ann to dance and they made
their way to the dance floor. Ann asked
Devon to join them for the fast song, but she declined, citing her leg that,
although mostly healed still tired easily.
Not that the excuse wasn’t true, she just would never think of intruding
on their time alone to get to know one another.
She sat back easily sipping her beer and enjoying taking in the sights
of Saturday night at the club.
Devon turned toward the bar and noticed the
brunette who had been watching Mac the last time they were in. Although the crowd this night made it hard to
tell, the woman was indeed sitting with her back to the bar, facing the dance
floor, and once again seemed to be watching Mac.
“Too late, honey, I think my friend has found
someone to interest her,” Devon said aloud, studying the other woman. As if she heard her over the music, the woman
turned and looked directly at Devon, tipping her glass in the lieutenant’s
direction. Devon raised her beer bottle
and nodded at the woman before turning her attention back to the dance
floor.
“Your beer looks empty,” the brunette from the
bar stood next to Devon’s chair about five minutes later, a cold Heineken in
one hand and a mixed drink in the other.
She set the beer on the table in front of Devon. Smiling, Devon stood, and indicated for her
to sit.
“Thanks.” Devon’s blue eyes scrutinized the new
arrival. She was petite and trim, her
dark hair fell loosely around her face and her eyes glinted in the flashing
club lights. She wore tight jeans and a
low cut knit top that showed off shapely full breasts, and was tucked into her
waistband accentuating her narrow waist.
Devon guessed she was about twenty nine.
“I’m Susan.” The woman extended her hand.
“Devon.
Pleased to meet you.”
“You new in town? I don’t remember seeing you around her before
a few weeks ago; you and your friend,” she motioned with her glass toward the
dance floor.
“Yeah,” Devon replied, “I have recently
relocated to the area.” Instantly, the
old habits of caution returned instinctively as Devon spoke with the attractive
stranger.
“Really? I’ve lived here all of my life,” Susan
smiled again, “I’ve always wanted to travel, though.”
“Why don’t you? You seem too young to be tied
down,” Devon returned.
She laughed, “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, I guess I
don’t have as much of an independent streak as I had imagined. I always think about meeting the right person
to travel with.”
“Sometimes you just have to go for it,” Devon
shrugged, “make your own opportunity.”
“You may be right.” Susan looked as though she
was contemplating the idea. “So, are you and your friends military?” Susan was
smiling again, but somehow Devon couldn’t see the smile in her eyes. She
hesitated, trying to think of a good answer, when thankfully Ann and Mac
approached the table.
“Hey you two,” Devon stood and grinned at Mac,
who was pulling out Ann’s chair for her.
Mac studied the brunette now seated at the table
and raised an eyebrow at Devon.
“Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners, Ann and Mac,
this is Susan.”
“Hello,” Susan said. Mac studied the woman for a few moments with a
puzzled expression on her face as Susan she and Ann began discussing something
about fashion. Clearly, something about
the other woman disturbed Mac.
“Have we met?” Mac interrupted the conversation
going on across the table.
Susan laughed a bit nervously, “I’m sure I’d
remember if we had.”
“That’s what I was thinking, still, there’s
something familiar about you.” Mac’s eyes narrowed and she frowned.
“Well, maybe I just look like someone else.”
Susan forced a smile.
“Maybe,” Mac’s voice trailed off as her mind
searched for the answer. She stood and
turned to Ann, “It’s getting late, I guess we should get you home.”
Taking the hint, Devon got up, not understanding
but trusting Mac’s instincts. Bonding under live fire made non-verbal
communication more clear than spoken words.
Whatever it was that bothered her friend, Mac didn’t need to explain
herself. They said goodnight and made
their way to the exit.
As they stepped out of the club into the night
air, the temperature had fallen considerably, enveloping the three in a chill
as they made their way to the Jeep. Mac
again pulled Ann close to ward off the cold wind that whipped against their
skin. Unnoticed in a darkened doorway
across the street, a figure leaned against the brick archway, watching the
women walk to the parking lot. The soft
click, click of the shudder of the camera lens was drowned out by the muted
base coming from the club.
No one spoke until they were pulling onto the on
ramp of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway.
“Who was that woman?” Ann finally
asked from the back seat.
Mac stared out the passenger side window, her
mind trying to unearth the memory that eluded her. She couldn’t shake the feeling she knew
her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Susan did just look like someone she
met in her past. So, why did she set my nerves on edge?
She reasoned that there was no need to get anyone else alarmed until
she figured it out.
“I don’t know,” Mac answered truthfully. “Maybe
I have her confused with someone else, like she said.”
Devon looked across at her friend from the driver’s
seat, recognizing the troubled look on her face. Mac didn’t rattle easily. Even when they were being shot at in the
desert, she was controlled. Now she was
as undone as Devon had ever seen her and that was making Devon very worried.