When Beatrice stepped off the small commuter plane at a private airstrip near Craftsbury Common, Vermont, a car was waiting for her. She recognized the driver as Raven. That wasn’t his real name, just his code. She’d never known his real name. Tobias preferred for his operatives to remain anonymous even among themselves.
Raven was, to her knowledge, considered by Tobias to be one of the very best. She judged him to be about four years younger than Joe, in his early to mid thirties. Like Joe, he had black hair and brown eyes. From his carriage she could tell his tall athletic frame was still in top form. Today he had on his comfortable face, the one that didn’t intimidate. When he wanted, with just a look she’d seen him cause strong men to quake. This ability to appear mild-mannered or dangerously homicidal depending on the situation was, according to Tobias, one of Raven’s most useful qualities.
“Thought I’d take on a safe, dull assignment for a while,” he said in answer to the question on her face.
“I never thought you’d leave the field,” she admitted honestly, as they drove away from the airport.
“The Old Man needed a bodyguard, someone he felt comfortable with. I volunteered. I owe him my life several times over.”
“We all do.” It was sad, Beatrice thought, that the team of operatives Tobias had built and who had come to rely on one another so completely could not even visit like old friends. Even to see Tobias, who had been as close as a father, she’d had to go through covert channels. Joe had been right about one thing: as long as they’d stayed with the agency, they could never have had a family or even a semblance of a normal life.
“Tobias is in his greenhouse. It’s around to the left. I’ll put your suitcase in your room,” Raven said, parking in front of the manor house of Tobias’s county estate.
Beatrice thanked him, then followed the brick path in the direction he’d indicated. She was barely halfway to the greenhouse, when Tobias came out. He’d aged. The last time she’d seen him, he’d looked a good ten years younger than his mid-sixty years. Now he looked his age and more. His brisk gait had slowed and he required a cane to walk.
“You’re looking as lovely as ever,” he said, smiling fondly upon her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
They’d never beaten around the bush with each other. “I want to know if Joe is alive.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “That’s a peculiar question to ask after all this time.”
He was hedging, feeling her out. She had her answer. “He is, isn’t he?” she demanded.
For a moment Tobias hesitated, then said, “He was until five days ago. My guess is that he isn’t any longer.”
A surge of pain shook her. She’d thought she’d finished with her grief. Now it felt as fresh as ever. “Why fake his death?”
Tobias’s manner became fatherly. “He and I thought it was for the best. He’d realized that your marriage was a mistake for both of you. I wanted an experienced operative to go deep and for that I needed someone no one would be looking for. It was his contact who was killed in the explosion. Joe was injured but managed to find a safe hole to hide in. He was afraid you’d get tagged if he contacted you, so he contacted me. When we realized we could make it look as if he was the one who had died, we followed that route.”
Beatrice fought back the hot tears at the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry over a man who’d wanted so badly to be free of her, he’d been willing to fake his own death. She suddenly remembered an elderly Indian on a lonely hilltop in Wyoming. “How could he do that to his grandfather? Frank Whitedeer had no one else.”
A glimmer of guilt showed in Tobias’s eyes.
The truth dawned on Beatrice. “His grandfather knew he was alive.”
“As you said, Joe was his only family,” Tobias said, apologetically.
A new thought caused her gaze to narrow in anger. “Joe’s bank and savings accounts. You gave all that to me. And there was that ten thousand you said was from an insurance policy.” She’d tried to give the money to Frank Whitedeer but he’d been insistent that she kept it. Now she understood why. She’d been the pawn in their game. And she didn’t like it.
“The insurance money came from cashing in some bonds he’d had. As for his accounts, he wanted you to have them.”
Her mouth tasted bitter. Joe had settled his conscience by thinking he could buy her off. Silently she cursed herself for ever having cared for the man. Next, she congratulated herself for having put the money away in a rainy-day fund. It was still intact. When she found him, she would return all of it, plus the interest. She wanted nothing from him. A sudden realization hit her. “So you haven’t retired.”
“Officially, yes. Unofficially, I’m handling one final assignment. Joe was my only operative.”
“You mean he went out without a backup?”
Tobias frowned at her naiveté. “He’s been operating on his own ever since you and he parted company. I couldn’t send backup with a dead man, and being dead was Joe’s major trump card. And it worked well.”
Beatrice’s jaw hardened with purpose. “I have to find him. I have reason to believe he’s still alive. And if I’m right, he needs my help.”
“You’re out of the business now.”
“I may be out of the business, but I’m going after Joe.”
“You have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Then tell me.”
“That’s classified information. Besides, as I’ve told you, I doubt he’s still alive. The people he was dealing with do not play games.”
Beatrice’s stomach knotted tighter. “He’s not an easy man to kill. If he’s alive, I’ll find him. If he’s dead, I want to see the body. I have to know for sure.”
For a long moment, Tobias studied her, then said, “I had him associating with mercenaries, trying to get a line on problems before they developed. A little less than three years ago, he managed to hook up with a couple of men who were contacted to participate in the robbery of one of our arsenals out west. It was after that incident that he and I began to suspect that the robberies, while they were being carried out by different groups of thieves, were being orchestrated by a single person. But what really had us rattled was that our people were being more and more effectively eluded. Joe became convinced there was a mole in The Unit who was fingering our agents.
“I retired to take myself actively out of the loop and the mole’s attention off me and my activities. This also allowed me to take an outsider’s view of our little community. But our mole is clever. Perhaps, even more so than I even suspected. I thought we were merely dealing with an informant. However, during the past few months, Joe concluded that this elusive mole we are seeking is also the one masterminding the thefts. The last time I heard from him, he was sure he was on the right track to discovering the traitor’s identity. Then he vanished.”
“Where was he when he vanished?”
“San Diego, waiting to catch a plane for Mexico City.”
Not much of a lead, Beatrice thought. “I’d like a bag. With or without it, I’m going to find him.”
Tobias’s gaze narrowed on her. “Why did you come here asking about Joe after all these years?”
For a moment she considered making up a story, then decided that the truth would do. He would never believe it. He would think she was evading his question with a jest. Still, she couldn’t take any chances. “I have your word that what I tell you will go no further?”
“You have my word,” he replied.
“A seer with a crystal ball described him to me. She said she was sure he was alive.”
For a moment interest sparked in his eyes, then abruptly he laughed. “You always did have a knack for the dramatic. However, I know you well enough to know that you’re not going to tell me anything you don’t want to. So, I’ll just hope your source is right. I’d go after him myself if I could. Maybe you showing up here is prophetic.”
Or maybe just her bad luck, Beatrice thought two hours later as Raven drove her back to the airport. This need to find a man who would prefer never to see her again was nuts. Even more, she was again armed with the tools of a trade she’d taken great precautions to put behind her. In addition to her luggage was a black leather knapsack with a high-tech radio transmitter, a .32 automatic with extra clips and three packets of IDs hidden in a secret side panel. In her wallet was a bank card for an account she could access for funds. For now, she’d chosen the Treasury agent persona. She was Claire Homes, Special Investigator. The badge gave her the authority she needed to carry a weapon onto a plane.
Tobias had been very little help in discovering Joe’s whereabouts. Although Joe had said he was headed to Mexico City, he could have been taken prisoner in San Diego. Or maybe Mexico City had merely been his jumping-off spot to somewhere else.
Joe Whitedeer stared at the tray of food in front of him. Time was a difficult thing to judge in this black hole of a cell. For hours—perhaps even a full day—he’d been lying in the dark. His captors had stopped their questioning. They had, in fact, seemed to have lost interest in him altogether and were simply allowing him to slowly die. Now, suddenly, his guards had brought him a lamp and a meal of lamb stew, fruit, coffee and a large jug of water.
His last meal? he wondered.
“Eat,” one guard ordered.
Joe suspected it was drugged. Still, the people who held him had less palatable ways of getting drugs into him if they were determined to do so. They already had. He scooped up a bite of the stew. Either he was in for a quick trip to la-la land or his captors had decided they needed him in a healthier state. Mentally he tossed a coin. He didn’t wait for it to drop. Without food and water, he would die soon anyway. He shoved the bite into his mouth and chewed. It tasted good and he took another…
When Raven dropped her off at the airport, Beatrice did not catch a flight for the coast. Instead, she bought a ticket for Boston. There she switched IDs and rented a car, paying with cash.
But as she slid into the driver’s seat, that there had been no bug detector in the black bag nagged at her. It was standard equipment. She told herself that Tobias had not had time to organize her travel kit as efficiently as in the past. Not including the bug detector could have been a mere oversight. But the memory of Joe reciting his rules for survival continued to play through her mind. Rule number one was, “Never fully trust anyone but yourself.” Of course, she had trusted him and Tobias completely. And in spite of the game they’d played, where her safety was concerned, she still did. However, she didn’t know all of Tobias’s household staff. For all practical purposes, even Raven was a stranger to her. She knew Tobias trusted all of them, but anyone could be fooled.
“Better safe than sorry,” she murmured. After a quick check of her clothing, she opened the trunk and examined her carry-on and its contents. Next came her purse. Nothing. Her attention turned to the black bag.
Sitting in the back seat of the car, she began a thorough search. Inside the tiny portable radio transmitter, she found what she was looking for—a high-tech bug. Fear for Tobias swept through her. He had a traitor under his roof.
Going back inside the airport, she found a pay phone and dialed his number. When he came on the line she said, “I’d suggest you get an exterminator. You have a bug problem.”
From the other end came a chuckle. “I forgot you were trained by the best. Don’t worry. It was a friendly insect.”
She glared at the array of shiny metallic buttons in front of her. “You?”
“I didn’t like the idea of you going off alone. I wanted to be sure there was an angel on your shoulder.”
Beatrice knew he was only being protective, but she planned to seek out people and go places that even he didn’t need to know about. “I’ll be fine on my own,” she assured him and hung up.
Back at the car, she made a second thorough search to be certain she hadn’t missed anything, then drove to Greenfield. She’d taken several side roads on her across-state trek and kept an eye on the traffic behind her. She was convinced she hadn’t been tagged. Still, she didn’t want to lead anyone to her doorstep. In Greenfield, she parked the rented car in the airport parking lot and switched to her own car. Tomorrow she would return and use the rental car to drive back to Boston.
Her instincts had brought her back to Smytheshire. They told her that if she was going to find Joe alive, she’d better find him soon. For that she needed help. It was in the early hours of the morning when she drove up to her grandfather’s farmhouse.
Hoping not to wake him, she entered and made her way to her room.
“You ready to tell me what this is all about?” Justin asked, coming out of his room as she reached the door of hers.
“There is someone I need to find,” she replied simply.
“This someone have a name?”
“It’s my ex-husband. I thought he was dead. But maybe he isn’t. I need to find out.”
Justin frowned. “When you never brought him home to meet us, divorced him after barely a year of marriage, took back your maiden name and never spoke of him, I figured he must have mistreated you badly—so badly you were too embarrassed and humiliated to tell any of us about it. So I’m finding it a little hard to understand why it’s so important for you to find out if he’s dead or alive. Are you afraid he might come looking for you?”
“I’ve never worried about that,” she replied dryly. “And he didn’t mistreat me. He just simply didn’t want to be married to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that I owe him. If he’s alive, he could be in trouble.” Her shoulders straightened with purpose. “I’m going to ask Zebulon for help.”
“If you’re going to Zebulon, then finding your former husband must be mightily important. And I hope you do find him. I’d like to ask him what kind of fool would give you up.”
“We gave up on each other.” Although she’d managed to sleep on the planes, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Beatrice. “I’m too tired to talk anymore.”
Justin nodded. “Get some sleep. We’ll finish this conversation in the morning.”
Going into her room, Beatrice stripped and crawled into bed. There was no conversation left to finish. She’d said all she could or would. A shiver of fear for Joe traveled through her. The desire to go to Zebulon’s place right away was strong, but he would be asleep, and waking him at this hour of the night might anger the old man and cause him to refuse to help her. Besides, she admitted, she was too tired to move. Her eyes closed and in the next instant she was asleep.
The sun was fully over the horizon when she rose. Impatient with herself for having slept so late, she was strongly tempted to dress and leave without eating. But her stomach growled, reminding her she had eaten very little the day before. Suddenly Joe’s scowling countenance filled her mind. “Never pass up food when it’s easily available,” she could hear him cautioning. “Once you’re in the middle of an operation, you can’t always count on having time to eat or even being able to find food.”
Justin Gerard was in the kitchen when his granddaughter entered. After a monosyllabic greeting of, “Morning,” he waited until she’d sat down to eat, then, seating himself across from her, said, “You’ve never volunteered any information about your marriage and I’ve respected your privacy. But now I’m asking. Before you take off again, I want to know a little about where you might be going.”
Beatrice looked up from the plate of scrambled eggs to meet her grandfather’s gaze. Although Tobias had zealously guarded the identities of his agents as a safeguard for their families as well as themselves, she did not want to take any chances. If there was a mole in The Unit, there was always the possibility that even Tobias’s carefully devised security had been breached. “There are things you should know,” she said. “I have not been completely honest with you and the rest of the family about my tenure in the military. I was in the military police but, during my last years of service, I was not stationed at the embassy in Switzerland. I was part of a small group of specially trained operatives who investigated the stealing of arms and munitions from military bases, drug operations on our bases, anything that required undercover methods to solve. We worked within all the branches of the military, wherever the problem was. It was a covert operation. My real identity was hidden at all times so that when I left The Unit, I could resume a normal life and neither myself nor any of you would be threatened by retaliation. Joe was my ranking officer. We worked as a team. We didn’t get along too well at first. He could be real stubborn.”
Justin grinned. “It’s my guess he met his match on that point in you.”
“That’s what he claimed.” A sharp image filled Beatrice’s mind. It was of Joe. They’d been arguing, then the mood between them had changed. A moment later, he was kissing her. That was their first kiss. If they’d been smart, it would have been their last.
“You said last night that you’d thought he was dead.” Justin coaxed her mind back to the present.
Beatrice stared down into her coffee cup. “On our last mission together, the people we were after rigged his car to explode. As it turns out, it was his contact who was blown up. Joe managed to escape. He and the man we both worked for decided to let everyone believe Joe was dead. It allowed them to make him into an invisible man.”
Justin scowled. “And he never even let you know the truth?”
“By then we’d realized that our marriage was a mistake. I guess he figured faking his death was an easy way out. At the time, our boss told me he’d worked up the divorce scenario because it would be easier to avoid questions when I returned home. His logic seemed reasonable to me.”
Justin nodded. “It worked with me and the rest of your family. We figured the experience had been too painful to talk about so we never asked any questions.” He studied her. “I know you said you were only going looking for him because you think you owe him. But you don’t look like a woman going after a man you dislike.”
“I never said I disliked him. I just said our marriage was a mistake.” Falling silent, she finished her breakfast quickly, then rose. “I’ve got to go see Zebulon. I took precautions. I doubt anyone will find their way here, but just in case, keep an eye out for strangers and warn Ryder and the others. If anyone asks about where I am, just say I’m on vacation, traveling around, you’re not sure where. The last part will be the truth. If anyone asks about Joe Whitedeer, just tell them you’ve never heard of him. Our marriage was a better-kept secret than the location of King Solomon’s mines. Whoever does the asking will assume we were never more than partners and that I followed procedure and never spoke of him to you.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Justin assured her. “But I don’t like you going off alone.”
“I have to do this by myself,” she insisted.
As she drove to Zebulon’s place, her mind again went back to that first kiss. It had been a shock to both her and Joe. They’d jerked apart like a couple of embarrassed teenagers.
“It’s not safe for me to be thinking about you as a woman. It diverts my concentration from more important things like keeping us both alive,” he’d said. Then he’d added that he planned to forget the kiss had ever happened and ordered her to do the same.
“Consider it forgotten,” she’d replied. Now she wished she’d been more successful at obeying that order.
In hindsight, she was certain Joe had never allowed himself ever to be truly emotionally involved with her. And what she’d felt for him was nothing more than animal passion, she assured herself. But it had been incredibly strong.
She brought her mind fully back to the present. Ahead of her was the gate that led to Zebulon’s land. Coming here would be the first time in several generations that anyone in her family had openly acknowledged their heritage. But Zebulon and his kin before him knew the truth. It had simply been a silent understanding that it would not be spoken aloud.
Beyond the gate, the gravel road wove through thick woods until it ended in a large clearing. Within the clearing was a sprawling structure. The original portion had been a one-room log cabin, but through the years it had been added to as whim or need dictated. Sitting in a rocking chair on the railed, roofed front porch was a man with a head of white hair that hung well below his shoulders. His face was obscured by a thick mustache and a beard as long as his hair. Only the Lansky blue eyes were clearly distinct. He wore jeans, a red-and-black plaid cotton shirt and hunting boots that laced to his knees. Beside his chair was a long-haired dog, medium in size, brown and black in color.
The dog rose. His ears back and his teeth bared, he took a protective stance at the top of the short flight of stairs leading up to the porch.
“Sit down and relax, you fool dog,” Zebulon said as Beatrice climbed out of her car. “We’ve got a female caller. Mind your manners.”
The dog immediately became indifferent and returned to his position beside the rocker.
Rising stiffly, Zebulon eyed his visitor with interest. “Morning, Beatrice,” he said.
“Morning,” she replied. At the foot of the steps she paused, waiting for an invitation to proceed. She knew Zebulon was not as crotchety as he acted, but she also knew it was best not to cross him if you wanted a favor—and she wanted a favor.
“Come on up and sit awhile.” He waved toward a second rocker beside the one he’d occupied. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, but thank you.” Continuing to the level of the porch, she seated herself as he eased himself back into his chair.
“You’ve come here with a purpose, girl. I can see that.” He shifted his chair so that he had an easy view of her face.
Normally Beatrice was a very straightforward person. But she was uneasy about breaking the code of silence that had existed for generations among the residents of Smytheshire who knew of their heritage. She felt fairly confident in believing that most of the populace whose families had been linked to hers in centuries past, were oblivious to the truth about their ancestry and about the purpose behind the founding of the town. Certainly Samantha’s behavior was proof that neither she nor her family was aware that having a talent was a very natural part of their nature.
On the other side of the coin, Beatrice was equally certain that Zebulon knew that and much more. She was aware of his family’s ancestral duty and did not doubt that he was carrying out his appointed task. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to proceed slowly with her request. “My family has always believed that Angus Smythe chose this place to set up his own little town because it was secluded and because you and your kin were already established here?” She spoke in a tone that made this a question.
“My family and the Smythes go back a long way,” Zebulon replied, a gleam appearing in his eyes as if he guessed where this was going and was excited by the prospect.
“Centuries, perhaps?”
“Centuries,” he confirmed.
“Back to pre-Christian days? Perhaps as far back as when the Druids thrived?”
“The history books have very little in them about the Druids. They say that the people of the time believed them to have strong paranormal powers. However, those powers have never been officially verified.”
The gleam in Zebulon’s eyes grew. “Centuries ago, people were less skeptical of things they did not understand. Today, everything has to be proved scientifically before people will allow themselves to believe.”
Beatrice was well aware that some people in town thought Zebulon was a brick short of a full load. But they were wrong. He was wily and clever. And he was toying with her, making her do the revealing. “The history books also claim that all the Druids were killed, slaughtered by conquerors who feared their powers.”
Zebulon’s mouth formed a thoughtful pout. “So I’ve heard.”
“But I have also heard tales that claim that is not entirely true. They tell of some of the Druids escaping and assimilating into other cultures, denying their heritage and hiding their talents until those talents became weak, then lay dormant within them.”
“I’ve heard that, as well.”
“According to these tales there was one family who ignored the agreement that their people would disperse and forget the names of the others. This family kept track of as many of their brethren as possible. Twice in past centuries, they tried to gather the descendants of those ancient Druids together and twice the colonies failed. The first time was because outsiders discovered the truth of their heritage and out of fear, wanted to kill them.”
“There are always those who perceive what they cannot understand to be a threat. They are unwilling to accept the great versatility of the human mind,” Zebulon noted.
Beatrice waited a moment for him to take the lead. When he didn’t, she continued. “The second failure was due to internal strife. Most were strong Christians by then and understood that the powers they possessed were inherited talents that could not be made stronger nor conceived by any pagan ritual. But one who had been born without any special abilities, grew resentful and wanted to reinstate the old pagan ways with hope of achieving the powers. It was his actions that sent them apart yet again.”
Zebulon smiled. “Interesting tales. Are there more?”
“The saga ends here in Smytheshire. It was the Smythes who kept track of their brethren after each dispersion. Toward the end of the 1800s, Angus Smythe decided to again attempt to bring the Druid descendants together. Only this time, there would be a code of silence. No mention would be made of their heritage. His hope was that once they were all gathered together, their powers would again come to life. He sought out those he wanted to settle here. Without making any reference to their ancestry, he encouraged them to move here. To people who were in business, he said he needed their talents for his town to survive and flourish and offered to help them set up shop. With others, like my family, he claimed a long-lost relative had left us a great deal of land—enough to make it profitable for my great-great-grandfather to pull up stakes and relocate here. Of course, my family had other reasons for coming, as well.”
Zebulon grinned. “I heard my daddy and Angus talking about your great-great-granddad. Seems he’d remembered the Smythe name and guessed Angus’s intent. Seems he also didn’t trust Angus. He made Angus give his word that this would be a God-fearing community and their heritage would remain a secret kept by those who knew and never revealed to those who didn’t. And, of course, there’d be those who lived here who didn’t have any Druid ancestry. Angus needed people with all kinds of business and caregiving skills to make his town work. He couldn’t fill all the positions with his own ilk. And he couldn’t throw out those families already living in and around our valley.”
Beatrice breathed a mental sigh of relief. Zebulon had stopped playing his cat-and-mouse game.
“You said your family had other reasons for coming here.” The old man’s gaze bore into her. “Can I assume the claim made by Thaddeus Sayer about your great-grandfather Zachariah Gerard was true?”
“Let’s just say that the talents of some families didn’t ever become dormant.”
Zebulon smiled broadly. “A belief I’ve held for a long time.” His expression became serious. “But you would not have come here and admitted to something your family has kept private all these generations without good cause. Why have you come?”
“Most people here in Smytheshire think of you as a hermit who pays little attention to anyone. But we Gerards have always believed you and your kin to be the Observers.”
Zebulon shrugged. “I do like to pride myself on being more observant than most people think.”
“You have the ability to detect those with talent?”
“My family has always been able to sense certain auras. We cannot tell how strong the talent is, though. For that, I can only listen and watch.”
Time to get to the point of her visit, Beatrice decided. “I need a Finder.”
“That’s a very vague and iffy talent,” Zebulon cautioned. “There are a couple with a mild ability here in Smytheshire. Are you seeking animal, vegetable or mineral?”
“A man.”
“I believe there is one who might be able to help but she doesn’t live here.”
“I don’t mind traveling.”
“She’s a MacGreggor. Her married name is Stone…Amanda Stone. She lives on a ranch in South Dakota somewhere near the small town of Redig. You can contact her cousin, Madaline Darnell, if you want more explicit directions. But I would not reveal my reasons to Madaline for seeking her. Madaline, as well as her husband, are of the lineage. But they are not yet ready to accept the full truth. From what I’ve heard, however, Amanda recognizes her ability and is not as secretive about it as some. She does not flaunt it, but if asked outright, she will admit to it.”
“I’ll find her on my own.”
“I would advise you to take something that belongs to the person you’re seeking. Something that holds a strong, special meaning to that person would be best.”
Beatrice thanked him for his help. As she started to leave, she turned back. “I’d appreciate it if you’d consider this conversation confidential.”
“I consider all my conversations confidential,” he replied.
She nodded her gratitude and continued to her car.