The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (9 page)

"Jenny, I'm sorry," Steve said sincerely.

A tear rolled down Jenny's cheek. Had she indeed idealized
John after all? The room suddenly got cold and she found it difficult to
breathe. Steve walked over to her desk; he knelt down while taking her in his
arms. He let her cry until there were no more tears left to shed.

CHAPTER
8

The highly polished marble floor glistened in the afternoon sun as
people scurried about. Some were visiting, some on business, some in street
clothes, while others were in sterile white cotton. It was a place of
never-ending activity in a city that never dared to sleep. The towering
ceilings amplified the clatter of footsteps, sending echoes through the long
narrow lobby entrance.

Gideon was crammed into the small telephone cubicle just
inside the entrance. He half listened to the men at the other end in Langley,
while trying to take notes on pertinent information they discussed. The hollow
distortion of the phone in the dome room at the other end made what was being
said sound as if they were huddled in a cave. Colby used this phone for
precautions on occasions such as this. It was hard to make out what was being
said. Gideon found himself reading the inscriptions on the wall. "For a
good time, call Kathy. Best action in town, give Linda a call." Gideon
reached up, started writing, "For a good time, call Beth." He jotted
down her number, but already had second thoughts by the time he got to the last
two digits. Then he quickly wrote twenty-two, not sixty-two. He smiled to
himself, thinking about the calls it could generate.

"Gideon, are you there?" Colby asked.

"What," Gideon said. He suddenly realized he had not
been listening to what was being said. "What is it?"

"I thought we lost you there for a moment."

"No, I was just writing something down." Gideon
mumbled.

"We have to get this taken care of, and soon." It
was one of the men furthest from the phone who said those words and he was
hardly audible.

"The president wants answers. He's been breathing down my
neck ever since yesterday morning," Colby said sharply.

"What are we going to do if Delaney doesn't play
ball?" it was the raspy voice of Elliott Sinclair, the deputy director.

Up to that point Gideon had not realized Elliott was in the
room, but then why not? Colby was grooming Elliott for the director's position
if and when he retired in a few years. Gideon respected Elliott. Although
ambitious in his quest for the director's job, he was unlike Phil March, the
executive director, who was unscrupulous in his tactics to get the job done.

"If he doesn't want to play ball, eliminate him,"
the man in the background said.

It hit Gideon who the voice belonged to. It had to be none
other than Phil March. Gideon did not know him personally, but the few times
they did meet, Gideon had a taste of his mean tenacity for getting the job done
at all costs. It made Gideon glad they were on the same side.

"We'll have no talk of that," Colby quickly cut in.

Even though they were in the dome room, Colby was always
careful about such talk. It had been rumored for years that the Agency had men
who specialized in wet affairs, but it was something that was never discussed
openly, especially over unsecured phone lines.

"He'll talk in time, I'm sure," Gideon quickly
added.

"We don't have time," Colby responded sharply.

"We have men available to handle this," Phil March
cut in.

"Colby," Gideon said, wanting to make sure he had
Colby's attention. "Promise me no one will be called in?" Gideon then
waited for the answer he wanted, but when he got none, quickly asked again.
"Promise me!"

Finally Colby was back on the line. "It has already been
twenty-four hours since the attack on Wayne."

"I don't think we should wait any longer." Phil
said, nonchalantly as if discussing a dinner engagement.

"Gideon, do you think he knows where the meeting is
taking place?" Colby asked.

"I'm sure he does, but right now he's not happy. He
thinks there's a leak with us. That's why he almost got killed.

"Why would we want the meeting stopped?"

"He doesn't think we want world peace anymore than his
side," Gideon said. It was a sad fact, but true nonetheless.

"The man doesn't know anything." Phil snapped.
"We should eliminate him now, while we still have time."

Colby cut in. "Gideon, did you talk to Wayne?"

"Yeah, he's no help."

"Doesn't he realize his life is in danger?"

"If he does, he doesn't care. I don't think he trusts us
with what he has."

"Did you hit him with the information about Red
Eagle?" Phil March asked.

Gideon flipped over his notes quickly. "What are you
talking about?"

It was Colby who cut in. "Phil came up with the code name
for Sadat this morning. The directive will go out to the field later this
week."

Gideon laughed: he just loved double talk. But now was not the
time to express his disdain for the use of code words no one else understood.
Finally Gideon answered. "Wayne's been working with Carter, I'm sure of
that. But he won’t talk or tell us what we want." Gideon tapped his pen on
the little shelf in the booth, and then looked longingly at the writing on the
wall in front of him. What he would not do for a good time with Kathy right
now!

Colby quickly picked up the conversation. "Well unless we
have more concrete evidence than what we have now, we are a no-go on this.
Everyone in agreement?" Colby asked.

Gideon listened as everyone agreed. Up until then, he had been
too absorbed in the conversation to notice anything around him, but suddenly he
glanced up in time to see a nurse coming through the swinging front doors. A
chill went through him, starting at his cheekbone and working its way slowly
down his body to the tips of his toes.

The dark hair cropped at the neck bounced with every step she
took; her eyes darted around the lobby, but saw nothing. It was a face that was
embedded in his mind and all he could do was watch her. He looked at the nametag,
focusing on the name, finally a name behind the picture he carried. There was
no time to get off the phone. The men were still talking, but Gideon was no
longer interested in anything they were saying, it was all politics as far as
he was concerned.

Gideon glanced at his watch. It was one fifteen; there was not
a shift change yet and that troubled him. He had been at the hospital for two
days and had not seen this woman before. Gideon was mesmerized as she strolled
within ten feet of him, unaware he was watching her. All he could do was stay
there until the men at the other end of the line were done playing their good
spy, bad spy games.

He watched the young woman nervously check her purse as she
waited for the elevator. She looked around, but in reality was too nervous to
notice anything around her. Once the door for the elevator opened, she quickly
got into the small enclosure. Gideon watched her turn and glance in his
direction, but Gideon was sure she had not noticed him.

Gideon wanted to get up and follow, but knew he could not
leave the phone. The call would not be over until Colby said it was. Gideon
watched the indicator light above the elevator door. When it stopped at the
seventh floor his heart raced. This was going to be easier than he thought.

"Gideon, you get back to Delaney and see if you can get
him to talk. Tell him we will only give him twelve more hours and then we call
off the deal."

"Twelve hours isn't going to do it, I need more
time," Gideon argued, forgetting all about the woman for an instant. He
was drawn back into the heat of the conversation.

Gideon heard Phil and Elliott arguing in the background. He
glanced at his watch and then looked at the elevator door.

* * *

When the elevator door closed, Jenny took a deep breath. Although
the lobby was cold from the air conditioning, she felt hot, her nerves frayed
from the strain. No one took notice of her walking through the lobby, or so she
thought. Actually she did not know what to expect, other than the guards posted
on the seventh floor. Jenny leaned her head on the wall. This was the easy
part, what came next would be the true test of whether she could pull it off.
She watched the indicator light and with every floor that passed, her heart
sank further. If it were not for the elevator full of people standing between
her and the door, she might have changed her mind altogether. But it was
already too late to press the button for the lobby.

The elevator finally stopped at the seventh floor. As the last
person boarded, Jenny quickly got off before the door slid shut. She stood
outside the elevator, too scared to move. No one took notice, not even the
orderly who passed by with an empty gurney. She was just another fixture in a
complex organization. Jenny walked down the hall, following Cindy's
instructions closely. She looked down the corridor at the guard posted outside
a door. Jenny took a deep breath; she had gone over in her mind a dozen times
what she was going to do. But now, her stomach muscles were tied up in knots.
When the guard turned and looked her way, she quickly walked over to the
nurse’s station.

Nurses were all scurrying about with jobs to do. Maxine, the
head nurse Cindy warned her about, was busy with a candy striper. Jenny watched
Maxine hovering over the poor girl, bellowing orders. If she could just get by
Maxine the rest would be easy. Jenny was thankful for Maxine's distraction. The
other nurses were busy writing notations in charts and sorting pills. Jenny's
only fear was that someone might ask her to perform a task she was incapable of
doing.

Slowly Jenny edged toward the rows of charts on the rack. She
reached over and pulled out the chart that read John Hamilton. As she picked it
up she stared at the name, not comprehending anything else she read. Before
leaving the nurse’s station Jenny picked up the stethoscope laying on the desk,
and then stepped back and edged her way down the long hall where the sentinel
was stationed. With every step she took, she fought the urge to turn and run.

"I thought you checked him already?" Rico said.

"Student nurse forgot to mark it down, I have to
recheck." Jenny replied, then shrugged her shoulders as if a little
perturbed at the inconvenience. "You know how these young kids are?"

"Yeah, I guess." Rico replied, and then added before
Jenny disappeared into the room. "Make it quick, they want to talk to him
in a little while."

"It won't take long," Jenny said.

When the door shut behind her, the darkness overpowered her.
The shades were pulled. The only light was from the monitor above the bed. The
smell of disinfectant hung heavy while the beeps from the monitor hooked up to
the man on the bed echoed almost as loud as her heart. Jenny focused, but could
not get a good look at him. In the dimly lit room, she found herself mesmerized
by the tubes and probes that hooked the man up to the monitors. The faint beeps
that came from the monitor told her the man was still alive. She slowly moved
closer to the bed. Even in the darkness, she could tell it was not John. The
chalky white complexion on the face that lay on the pillow had hollow eyes and
cheeks far too thin for a healthy man. The age was about the same as John, but
that was all. He was an imposter, and as much as she wanted it to be John, she
was relieved it was not.

Jenny's heart raced and her palms were sweating. She grabbed
onto the bed rail for support and just stared. Then she realized the hollow
breathing sound was coming from the hole in his neck.

Slowly the man's eyes opened. When he saw Jenny, a strange
look crossed his face. He struggled to talk but nothing would come, only a
gurgling sound. He grabbed for the rail and touched her hand. Jenny stepped
back out of reach.

"Who are you?" she asked. But it was clear she would
get no answer from him. Not in his condition.

Jenny glanced around the room. She set the chart down, and
then turned the lamp on above the bed and handed the man a pen and pad from the
tray. She was stunned by what she saw, but still she had to know. Jenny leaned
forward and looked him square in the eye, then asked again.

"Who are you?"

He wrote quickly. "John Hamilton," but the nervous
expression on his face was not as convincing.

"We know you aren't John. So do you want to tell me who
you really are?"

Delaney just stared at Jenny, and then smiled as he wrote,
"You're Jenny, aren't you?" He breathed a little easier when he
realized he had nothing to fear.

"Who are you?" she demanded again.

Quickly he wrote, "Does the name Delco mean
anything?"

It was a name John wrote about often. He was a friend of
John's over in Vietnam, who Jenny guessed had suffered the same fate as John on
that last mission. She remembered John saying Delco was a combination of the
man's real name.

"I'm Delaney Conovers," he wrote, then offered his
hand to Jenny, but she did not take it.

"That doesn't explain why you're using John's name,"
her voice quivered as she fought back tears.

"How do you know?" he wrote.

"I had a friend do some checking. Where's John?"

Delaney watched Jenny intently, and then wrote two words.
"He's dead."

Jenny just stared at the man on the bed, unable to do more. It
still did not explain everything. The beeps got louder, there was talking
outside the door, but she just stared at the man on the bed.

"But why?" she asked, it was all she could muster up
to say as she hung onto the railing for support.

"That's not why I asked you to come." Delaney wrote
quickly, and then showed her the note.

Jenny shook her head. "I find out you've had my husband's
identity for four years and you don't think I should ask questions?"

"Please, it’s a matter of life and death, that you
listen," he wrote quickly.

"Whose?" Jenny mocked.

Delaney quickly wrote. "Go in the closet, the left shoe
has a false heel. You'll find a key for a locker at Penn Station."

"Why should I do this?" Jenny asked, not wanting to
play games until she had answers.