Greenwald gave the order and the two Marines started up the slope. While they were gone Williams gave the officer a brief report on what had happened. One of the Marines returned a couple of minutes later with the sniper's pack and bedroll.
"There’s a dead man just up the hill, but no one else in the area, sir. We found this just over the rise," he reported, holding out the gear.
Leahy took the pack from him and dumped the contents out in a pile. Other than the expected food items and assorted camping paraphernalia, it held nothing of importance. Next he searched the side pockets and removed a partial box of .223 caliber ammunition. There was also a folded topographic map. He opened it and Williams trained the flashlight on it. Several square inches near the center had been highlighted with a yellow marker.
Williams traced the colored section with his finger. "We should be about here," he pointed to a spot inside the yellow area. "In fact, this colored part is basically the same one I marked out for Colonel Pope as the location we'd be using for your training."
Leahy shot him a sideways look and said, "Who else besides Colonel Pope knew where we'd be?"
"Beats me," Williams answered. "When I carried the map over to the colonel's office, the desk security officer told me that he wasn't available. I left it for him in a sealed envelope. I had no idea it might be a security risk." He paused and looked at Leahy. His mouth dropped open as the implication of what they were talking about dawned on him. "You don't think Pope had anything to do with……."
"Maybe not," Leahy cut him off. "But somebody sure as hell did." He put the map inside one of the L-suit's pockets and turned to Greenwald. "Lieutenant, have your men get that body and our equipment into the chopper." His voice had the tone of someone accustomed to giving orders, and the Marines moved to obey him.
"Let's get out of here, Chuck," he said to Williams. "We've got things to do." He picked up the rifle and they walked to the helicopter.
Leahy relaxed in one of the big, over-stuffed chairs in his quarters. His wound had been cleaned, bandaged and diagnosed as not serious by one of the military doctors. He was currently working on his second glass of Canadian whiskey. Taylor, dressed in a yellow silk blouse and white pants, sat on the sofa across from him, her face a classic study in anxiety. They were waiting on Williams, who was still in the infirmary having his ribs taped. The impact of the bullet had indeed fractured two of them. Durant had also been notified and was on his way to meet with them.
"Are you certain you're alright?" Taylor asked for the second time since they had left the infirmary.
"I'm okay," he answered. "It's just a little scratch."
He gazed at her, sitting on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped between her knees. While he and Williams were in the desert he had spent considerable time thinking about her. Though neither of them had done or said anything to indicate that there was more between them than friendship, he knew that things he had once thought dead were being reborn. A physical attraction to someone of her beauty could be expected, but his feelings now transcended that. There was a quality about her that he found difficult to explain. It was nothing you could put into words; it was just one of those inexplicable things that you felt. Danger signals had been sounding inside his head since the first day he met her, and he had slowly been losing a self-imposed war of resistance. Just being near her created a whirlwind of emotions that he was finding impossible to suppress.
He had been married once, years ago, but long hours on the job and an uncertain life-or-death future had taken their toll on the relationship. He was over the shattering heartbreak he had experienced when she walked out on him, but the searing memory remained just beneath the surface. The desolation and loneliness he had felt following their divorce was not something he was anxious to repeat. It had taught him to be cautious with his emotions, never to allow himself the luxury of anything more than a casual relationship with the women in his life. Yet here was someone he had known less than two weeks and already she commanded a huge share of his thoughts. It was a potentially dangerous situation, but he found himself liking it. He could not put reason to it, but he knew there was something special about her. They had worked together almost constantly, and had spent their evenings relaxing and talking about every subject imaginable. There was nothing profound in their talks; they did not solve any of the mysteries of the universe. It was just conversation between two people who seemed never to run out of something to say. Whenever he had occasion to touch her, he felt a warm current flow through him. In his heart he knew where his feelings were going, but he feared to communicate them to her except in very subtle ways. For reasons he had never understood, most women found him attractive; but he had always been too afraid to pursue close relationships with any of them. His diffidence with women was worse where Taylor was concerned. With her, he saw himself as a frog swimming in a pond with a swan. But now, after one attempt on his life and only God knew what was to come, he had to know if she felt the same. The whiskey was giving him the courage to broach the subject, but caution remained strong. He did not think he could stand another rejection, especially from her. He stared down at the ice in his glass and swirled it around.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," he said in a low voice.
"What?" She moved a little further toward the edge of the sofa, her lips slightly parted.
"If it's none of my business, just say so."
"What is it?"
"The policeman back at the airport, Ryan Pierce."
"What about him?"
"Like I said, if it's none of my business just tell me." He took another sip of the whiskey.
"Ask!" She held her arms toward him, palms up.
"Is there anything between you two?" It was not exactly the way he had planned to ask her, it just came out that way. “I mean……are you more than just friends?”
She sat there looking at him for a few seconds before she answered. Her lips formed a half smile as the emerald eyes searched his face for what seemed to him an eternity. The delayed response elicited a feeling of dread in him; he could feel the stillness of his body, barely breathing, wishing he had not broached the subject.
Finally, she nodded and said, "Yes there is, Matt, but not the way I think you mean. I've known Ryan for years. His sister, Kathy, and I were best friends in college. In fact, she recommended me for my position here at Apache Point. When I got the job and moved to New Mexico she and Ryan helped me get settled. They sort of adopted me you might say. That's what made it so hard when I had to tell him about Kathy." She hesitated, deep in thought, as though dredging up some terrible memory.
"What about her?" Leahy prompted in a gentle voice.
"I should have told you about it before now, but the right time just didn't present itself." She bit her lower lip, then said, "She was one of the agents murdered in the Valley of the Kings. I was the one who had to tell Ryan she was dead."
Leahy felt his stomach twist into a knot. Her words triggered the memory of the nightmare he had experienced his first night at Apache Point. An image of the three corpses from the dream flashed through his mind. He remembered the woman reaching out to him as though in supplication, a silent, agonized plea for help from across the centuries. Her face had never been clear, only the hole where the bullet had pierced her skull. Taylor's best friend! He felt a flood of relief that he had not mentioned it to her before. He reached out and touched her hand.
"I'm sorry, Taylor," he said softly. "That must have been devastating for you. Does Ryan know the circumstances?"
“Officially, he thinks she died in a plane crash at sea, her body never recovered, but I doubt he believes it. He knew she was involved in top-secret work, so he didn't push me for details. I’m not sure I could have kept from telling him the truth if he had questioned me about it."
She took his hand and squeezed it. "You just make sure I don't lose anyone else." She moved from the sofa and sat on the edge of his chair, staring into his eyes for a moment. A
t last she leaned over and kissed him on the lips. It was gentle and sweet, and he drank in the warmth of her breath. "Don’t you know by now that I'm in love with you, Matt Leahy?"
At her words, the floodgates of his heart burst and he knew he could not hold anything back. He was about to tell her his own feelings when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. He squeezed her hand in return and went to answer it.
It was Williams and Durant. "I picked this young man up at the infirmary, Matt," said Durant after they were inside. "Doctor Fields says he'll be fine, just a little sore for a while. How are you feeling?" There was genuine concern in the old man's voice.
"I'm okay, sir," Leahy responded.
"Well, Matt, I see you don't always keep bad company," Williams observed when he saw Taylor. They had not met until now, and his remark made her blush.
Leahy introduced them, and then gave Durant a report on what had transpired in the desert. The physicist sat down and listened closely to his recount of the shooting, particularly the part concerning the map. When he had finished, Durant shook his head in bewilderment.
"It's almost inconceivable that this could have happened,” he said, shaking his head. “You've seen the degree of security we employ here. How could anyone breech it so effectively?"
"He obviously had help," Leahy responded. He produced the map taken from the sniper's pack. "Captain Williams says he marked our planned training location for Colonel Pope before we left. The one he marked for the colonel is identical to the one on this map,” he held it out to Durant. “We took it from the gunman's pack."
Durant took the map and held it close to his eyes. With a touch of pathos, Leahy noted that the old scientist's hands were trembling. He studied the map in silence for awhile then shook his head.
"You're sure no one else was present when you laid out your training area?" he asked Williams.
“No one else was present, sir,” Williams answered. “I don't mean to imply that the colonel had anything to do with what happened, but as far as I know he was the only one who knew. I left the map at the security desk in a sealed envelope with the colonel’s name on it.”
"There must be some other explanation," Durant offered. "None of the operation here has been withheld from Colonel Pope. It would be impractical to place limits on the chief of security. He's known about our plan to enlist your help from its inception, Matt. If he'd wanted to stop us he could have used his authority to do it. There would be no reason for him to be involved in anything like this."
"Then he must have told someone else," Leahy responded. "Let's get him over here and find out."
Durant shook his head and let out a long breath. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips to relieve the stress he was feeling. "He would never have revealed confidential information to anyone," he said. "And I'm afraid it will be impossible to speak with him at the moment."
"Why?" Leahy asked.
"The colonel was hospitalized five days ago, just before Captain Williams arrived. The doctors think it's a stroke. He's been in a coma ever since."
The words had the effect of a concussion bomb. Leahy felt a chill run down his spine. He sat there staring at Durant, too stunned to speak, but his mind was working at top speed trying to correlate this new development with the other facts. With the sniper unidentified and the rifle probably untraceable, Pope was the only prospect of finding a kink in the deadly chain of events unfolding at Apache Point. If he died before regaining consciousness, that chain might never be broken. The stroke may have been only a coincidence, but it was damned convenient. He was not sufficiently versed in forensic medicine to know if such a thing could be artificially induced, but he intended to find out. There had already been three murders in the Valley of the Kings and two attempted ones in the New Mexico desert. Whoever was behind them was clearly someone with access to top-secret areas and had the knowledge to bypass the tight security measures in place around the facility. The sabotage of the Chronocom and the assassination attempt by the sniper provided proof beyond any reasonable doubt. In addition, his police experience told him that they were not dealing with amateurs. The sequence of events so far had been too tightly woven for that. In spite of their best efforts to cover themselves, amateurs always left some evidence behind. This time there had been none. The sniper was dead, and if Pope died from the stroke, the only obvious link to the conspiracy would be gone.
It remained unspoken, but the assassin had apparently been after him, not Williams. The Marine was simply a bystander that needed to be eliminated for expediency. Someone wanted Matt Leahy dead, and they had no compunction about killing anyone who got in the way. The question was why? His sole reason for being here was to find a missing person, not investigate the time agent murders or ferret out a saboteur. Possibly, it was as Durant had theorized in their first meeting: Edward held the key to everything. When, or if, he was located, they would undoubtedly have the answer to the entire mystery. Maybe someone did not want him found.
Leahy intended to do everything in his power to find his brother and bring the case to a conclusion, but in the meantime there were certain things that needed doing.
"What hospital is Colonel Pope in?" he asked Durant.
"He was flown to Albuquerque. The doctors here felt there wasn't enough time to get him to a properly equipped military hospital."
"Taylor, can you get Ryan on the telephone right now?"
"I guess so, but why?" she asked.
"You trust him, don't you?"
"You know I do."
"There are some things I want him to do for me. When you get him on the phone, I’ll talk to him."
She looked at Durant for approval. His authority would be needed for an outside call.
"What do you have in mind, Matt?" Durant asked. "The telephones here are not completely secure, so outside calls are not permitted without clearance. That’s why you don’t see anyone with a cellphone. They are strictly prohibited.”
"Don't worry, sir. What I'm going to say will seem innocuous enough to eavesdroppers."
Durant picked up a phone from the lamp table beside his chair and dialed a number. When someone answered on the other end he said, "Sergeant, this is Dr. Durant. Miss Griffin will be making an outside call. She has my authority to do so. My current code is D15A." He nodded to Taylor. She got up and went into the bedroom to place the call.
"Who's Colonel Pope's second in command?" Leahy asked Durant.
"That would be Major Durham."
"When we're finished here, I'd like you to make arrangements with him to provide transportation to Albuquerque by helicopter."
Durant nodded his acquiescence.
"Good. I want the chopper to leave tonight." He turned to Williams. "Chuck, would you personally deliver the sniper’s rifle and a message to Ryan Pierce at the police department?”
Williams nodded. "No problem."
Durant pursed his lips and gave Leahy a questioning look. "I assume from your candor that Captain Williams is now a part of your plans?"
"That's right." He said it like someone in control.
"And how much does he know about our situation here?" He was talking as though Williams was not present.
"Everything."
"The Chronocom?"
"That, too. And from now on I make the decisions about who can and can't talk to me, okay?" To ease the impact on the old man he made it more of a question than a demand.
"We’re trying to ensure the safety of the project, Matt. You must understand that very few people are cleared for what you've disclosed to Captain Williams. It could be considered a very serious breach of security.”
"I understand that, sir. But there's no time for an in-depth background investigation on Chuck. He saved my life out there, and almost died himself. I thought he deserved to know. Besides, I had another reason for telling him."
Durant looked confused. "Yes?"
"He’s volunteered to go with us when we leave on the mission."
The scientist took out his pipe and began packing it from an old leather pouch. It was the first time Leahy had seen him actually use tobacco. He looked tired, and his hands continued to tremble. The flesh under his eyes was puffy and marked by dark circles. He lit the pipe without comment and drew deeply on the tobacco.
"It's not feasible, Matt," he finally said. "We don't have enough time for language instruction. Besides, there are a dozen other things that have to be done to prepare him for the mission."
"I've already thought of that. Taylor can instruct him on enough basics to get by. As a foreigner no one will expect him to speak fluently. Besides, he won't be much worse off than I am in that regard."
Durant looked at Williams. "And how do you feel about this, Captain?"
Williams shook his head and smiled thinly. He appeared to be having a hard time comprehending the events of the last few hours. "Even knowing what I do, I mean with the sniper and all, if Matt wants me, I'm willing to give it my best." He sounded confident.
"Durant nodded and said, "You realize the dangers involved? Unless you achieve success rather quickly there's a good chance we won't be able to bring you back."
"Then we better get moving," Williams responded.
Durant bit down on the stem of his pipe. He gave the two men a penetrating look then let his gaze drift toward the bedroom where Taylor was busy on the phone. He knew that these young people were aware that the odds against their survival were tremendous, yet they were willing to risk their lives in a desperate attempt to save others. In his long life he had seen a multitude of strange and sometimes phenomenal things, but the quality of self-sacrifice in Man never failed to fascinate him. Though he had never voiced it, he had always wondered if that particular part of the human spirit was where God resided. The thought made him wish he could go with them. Looking at the three of them gave him a sudden pang of guilt. He wanted with all his being to tell them the real reason why Edward Leahy must be found, but there were things so titanic at stake that not even he had the authority to reveal them.