Talons of the Falcon (30 page)

The woman sitting across from him was clenching her hands tightly in her lap. Wayne Marshall was one person she hoped she’d never see again. Now she wondered if she might end up facing him in a courtroom. “I presume he’s under arrest now, too,” she ventured.

Downing shook his head. “No, he vanished from the hospital at Robins Air Force Base. The Pentagon is pretty sure he’s on his way to Moscow—and good riddance.”

She nodded. It was almost a relief to hear he’d skipped the country. But at the same time, she couldn’t help wishing that he was going to be locked up and the key thrown away.

The major shifted slightly in his seat. He’d been shaken to the core when he’d found the installation at Pine Island had been infiltrated, and by more than one agent. In retrospect, he was damn grateful that one of them was on the right side—although he still didn’t have the vaguest idea where Dr. Eden Sommers’s orders had originated. The idea that there was some supersecret Intelligence agency almost nobody in the U.S. government knew about was preposterous on the face of it. Yet he had the evidence of its existence sitting next to him. “I’d like to know who
you
were really working for,” he remarked. “But I’ve been too indoctrinated in security precautions to ask.”

Eden managed a slight smile. “I wouldn’t want to damage your record. Besides, I’ve had my own indoctrination.”

“I understand.”

While they were speaking, the door had opened and a stout, blond German woman came in carrying a canvas tote.

“Eden.” The name was spoken with respect, and gentleness.

She looked up at Berdine Hofmann.

“I know you don’t want to leave the hospital. So I’ve brought you a change of clothing.”

Eden’s emotions were so close to the surface that the thoughtful gesture brought tears to her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The two women embraced.

“Will you excuse me?” Eden asked Downing.

“Of course.” Who was the German woman? he wondered, as the two of them left together. Another idle question that would never be answered.

Getting out of the rumpled suit had a reviving effect on Eden. She saw Mark several times. But he was still too weak to have much of a conversation.

The waiting set her nerves on edge, but she wanted to be there when he needed her. The staff seemed to understand and did everything they could for her. They even let her spend the night in an empty room on the same floor as Mark’s. But it was almost impossible to sleep. She tossed and turned for hours on the hard, narrow bed thinking about Mark and praying that he was going to be all right. She finally fell asleep just before dawn. But the clatter of morning activity in the hall woke her when the sun came up.

She felt as though she’d been run over by a truck. Sighing, she decided she might as well get up. Just after she’d gotten dressed again, a cheerful-looking nurse came in with some good news. “Dr. Sommers, Colonel Bradley is awake and asking for you.”

Her eyes lit up at the news, and suddenly she felt much better. As she followed the nurse down the hall, she noted that the MP who had been at Mark’s door yesterday was on duty again. Even though he’d seen her before, he asked to see her temporary hospital identification card.

As she entered the room, she looked quickly toward the metal bed in the corner. The last time she’d seen Mark’s scarred face, it had been almost devoid of color. Now he looked almost imperceptibly better. She noted the change and rejoiced.

However, his eyes were closed and his chest was still swathed in bandages. She knew from the raised outline of the covers that there was a cast on his left leg. The needle from an IV bottle was firmly taped to his left arm. She could see a clear liquid flowing down the tube.

Quickly she crossed to the chair by the bed. As she sat down, Mark opened his eyes and looked at her. Something in their depths seemed to come alive as he focused on her.

“Eden.”

“How are you this morning?” she whispered, leaning over and stroking her hand down his cheek.

“Better...now.”

Her fingers groped for his. “They told me yesterday that the Falcon got the information, and they’ve arrested the mole in the Pentagon.”

He pressed her fingers. “Good.”

For a few moments they sat without speaking. Words weren’t necessary for the two of them to communicate now. Bringing his hand up, she pressed it gently against her heart, wanting to affirm the physical contact with this man she loved so much. She had almost lost him so many times. Two days ago at the auction gallery he might have been killed. Now she was greedy for his touch. Even in this unlikely setting, her senses stirred in reaction, and she knew from the look in Mark’s eyes that he felt it.

“I didn’t think I was very dangerous right now,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“For me, you’re always very potent. But then, I do love you so much.”

“I wish I deserved it.”

“Mark, how can you say that?”

“Why don’t you ask how I could have left you five years ago?” She heard the self-accusation in his voice.

“I think I understand why. But that’s all in the past. Just promise me one thing now.”

He waited, his eyes questioning.

“That you won’t just disappear again without telling me. I love you. I want us to try to work things out together.”

“That’s what I want, too.”

She brought his fingers to her lips. “Thank you.”

The silence lengthened again, but now there was an understanding that seemed to flow between them.

“How does beating Erlich make you feel?” she finally asked.

Despite the pain and the injuries, he grinned weakly. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He knew that wasn’t just an idle observation.

“You trusted me enough to let me help.”

His eyes closed again. She could see that even this short visit was tiring him. She should let him sleep. “You need to rest.”

His gaze focused on the circles under her eyes. “You do, too.”

“Later. But maybe I could use some breakfast. I’ll come right back when I’m finished.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled. It was a good sign that he could joke about his situation. “All right.”

Eden had been to the cafeteria once before. It was downstairs and in the next wing. As she walked down the hall one of the nurses stopped her.

“Are you after some breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a cart that stops at the station near the elevator. You can get coffee and a
Brötchen
there.”

“Thanks for the tip.” A roll was about all her stomach could tolerate at the moment.

As she stood in the short line waiting her turn, she looked around at the familiar military hospital setting. They were giving Mark one hundred percent here, and she was grateful that he was on his way to recovery. But she was grateful for a lot of things. He was finally safe. And now that the Orion project was secure again, they were going to have the opportunity to obliterate the last of Erlich’s legacy. More than that, there would be time for the two of them to work on their personal relationship.

Eden was buttering the light-textured breakfast roll when the elevator doors slid open and an orderly came out pushing an empty gurney. He was bald and swarthy. And like many of the other personnel he was dressed in a green cotton uniform. Something about his face stirred her memory. His jaw was set in a hard line, as though he was concentrating intensely on something.

Her gaze flicked to his hands. They, too, looked familiar. Had he been in one of the V.A. hospitals where she’d worked? she wondered idly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. She followed his progress down the hall, noting the muscular hunched shoulders.

She watched him head toward Mark’s room. He stopped for a brief exchange with the guard at the door, and she could see him showing his identification pass. He left the gurney outside and disappeared from view.

And then all at once she
knew.

“My God!” she screamed, and dropped the cup of coffee. The scalding liquid seared her leg, but she didn’t even notice.

Everyone in the little group around the breakfast cart pivoted in her direction, startled looks on their faces.

“Take it easy,” one of the doctors soothed.

“What’s wrong?” someone else asked urgently, rushing to her side. A comforting hand was laid on her shoulder.

They seemed to think she’d flipped out from the strain.

“No! Let me go! That man’s here to kill Mark.”

Fear gripped her chest like an iron vise, and she was running down the hall toward his room even as she shook the comforting hand off her shoulder. A few moments ago she had been thanking God that the nightmare was finally over. Now she had been startled awake to find that the horror was still going on, here, now.

At the door the guard took in her wide-eyed appearance and stepped protectively in front of the barrier.

“Let me in. He’s going to kill Mark,” she repeated.

The guard hesitated, searching her face. Eden reached for the doorknob, ducking and shoving the wooden barrier with her shoulder at the same time. The momentum carried her halfway across the room and she stumbled against the bed.

Mark’s eyes flew open. “What?” And then he, too, saw who was standing over him. An expletive formed on his lips.

Wayne Marshall had almost finished injecting the contents of a small hypodermic needle into the tube leading from Mark’s IV bottle. He turned in surprise at the commotion.

From her half crouch on the floor, Eden reached up and wrenched the IV needle from the back of Mark’s hand. He groaned as the clear liquid dripped slowly onto the floor. Marshall grabbed for the tube, his gaze darting from Mark to Eden.

“Bitch,” he growled. “I should have finished you off at Pine Island when I had the chance.”

Mark’s eyes were alert. If he could, he would have taken Marshall on. But in his weakened condition it was a struggle to move. Yet Eden saw him edging away from the deadly needle.

As she watched, her anger flared white-hot. It blotted any fear for her own safety, and she sprang at Marshall, her fingernails clawing at his head and face.

But her attack was nothing against his strength. Even with the gunshot wound she knew he had sustained two weeks ago, he was able to throw her off. She landed in a heap against the wall, gasping for breath. Mark was half-out of the bed on the side away from Marshall. Thank God there was a solid object between the two of them now. He hit the floor and muffled his own scream of agony.

The whole scene from the time she’d entered the room couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds, yet it seemed like a lifetime. Was this nightmare ever going to end?

The guard had regained his balance and drawn his gun. Quickly he sized up the situation. “All right, fellow, don’t move,” he commanded.

He stepped into the room and two other security men followed.

A look of defeat washed over Marshall’s face. In one swift motion he raised the IV tube and plunged the needle into his own arm. As Eden watched openmouthed, he slumped to the floor. There was a gurgling noise in his throat, and his body convulsed. Then he went completely still. Eden didn’t have to be told that he was dead.

God, that was what Marshall had planned for Mark! She crawled blindly toward the man she loved so much, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she was pressing her face against his bandaged chest, and his good arm came up to press her close.

“Eden, it is over now. I promise you it’s all over now,” he said.

* * *

E
DEN NOSED
the rented Buick down the twisting lane. Through the broad windshield she could see the oaks and maples of the Virginia countryside ablaze with scarlet and gold, and she could feel an autumn crispness in the air.

When they reached the beveled, wooden No Vacancy sign by the gate, she looked over at her passenger and grinned.

Mark smiled back. They both knew that the information didn’t apply to them. There was definitely a room ready and waiting for them at the Aviary.

At the top of the drive Eden stopped the car and went around to help Mark out. The cast was off his leg, and with his hair back to its natural raven darkness, he’d shed the extra ten years he’d taken on as a disguise. All in all, the man in the passenger seat looked handsome and fit in his blue air force uniform. But he was still under doctor’s orders to use a crutch. The edict hadn’t pleased him, but he’d found over the last several weeks that the woman beside him had a great respect for doctor’s orders. The only times she’d bent the rules had been when she’d propped a chair under the knob of the hospital room door and given him her own brand of physical therapy. Of course, with his leg in a cast, she’d been on top of matters there, too. But he hadn’t exactly minded.

She caught the expression on his face and suspected they might be remembering the same thing.

“I trust you’re going to leave some details out of your full report to Gordon,” she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. “Lie to my superior?”

“No, just protect my modesty.”

He looked at her for a moment, thinking of everything she had gone through for him, and an overwhelming feeling of tenderness welled up inside him. “I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “And to prove it, I’ll warn you that Gordon’s got a hidden TV camera and mike trained on the entrance to this place. So we’d better quit talking and go in.”

Eden studied the topiary birds guarding the door, the triangular pediment and the carving around the bull’s-eye window, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The surveillance equipment was well hidden. But after all she’d learned about the Falcon, she shouldn’t be surprised about the precaution.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open, and Constance McGuire came down the steps.

“Eden, Mark, welcome back,” she said, giving them each a quick hug.

The younger woman returned the greeting with fondness. Through the ordeal of the past several months, Constance had been a touchstone—someone who had planned for everything from her well-dressed spy’s wardrobe to the equipment Eden and Mark had needed for their escape from Pine Island.