CL Hart -From A Distance (4 page)

"I'm not sure."

"That, to me, sounds like we have a problem."

"I just think-"

"No! I'm not willing to put my ass on the line..." His voice trailed off as his finger traced the Federal Government seal embossed on the letterhead of the letter he was holding. "That other little problem we talked about before..." He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin while his mind spun off in a different direction. "Eliminate one to eliminate the other, and both problems cease to exist. Get it done, clean and fast. Can you do that?"

"Consider it done," the caller said and the line went dead.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Kenzie landed back at Whidbey Island Naval Base. The silence on the plane ride home was almost unbearable. There was no one there to talk to, and for the first time in her life, she realized there never really had been. She was alone - no partner, no companionship, no one to share her life's ups and downs with - except for the man she called "Judge". Looking out at the lights of Seattle, she fingered the fresh sutures on her cheek. Even in the distorted reflection of the plane's window, she could see the swelling and the discolorations on her chin and cheek. She wished it hurt more. The physical pain would keep her mind occupied.

She was alone and it was more than her conscience could bear as she tried to forget the images burning in her mind. She needed someone to tell her that she'd done what needed to be done. What she didn't need was to face the man who had put her into that position. Flagrantly flouting policy and procedures, Kenzie deplaned and left the base.

She sped through the empty streets on her bike, running from the memories and the shadows in her mind. She had no idea where she was going - she just needed to drive, to get away - but she couldn't run from herself and from what she had done. Hours later, she pulled up in front of a convenience store just as the bundle of newspapers arrived. She waited impatiently for the elderly man to pull one from the pile. Walking back to her bike, she flipped madly through the pages until a small article caught her eye.

After reading it a second time, she folded the newspaper in half and tucked it inside her leather jacket. She sat on her bike, struggling to decide between following her principles or her training. A moment later, she fired up her bike and roared down the deserted roadway.

Kenzie parked her bike and walked a short distance through the quiet, urban neighborhood. Silently, she slipped into the shadows and made her way along the side of a house. Within seconds, she disappeared through a ground level window into the basement. Making her way up the basement stairs and through the house, she was as soundless as they had trained her to be. Without a noise, she moved down the hall, pausing only for a moment at a picture hanging on the wall. It was obviously taken many years earlier, a young Judge Woodward standing with one hand in the air and the other on the bible as he swore an oath of duty and justice. Moving on, she took a chair in the kitchen and waited.

A long, patient wait later, she heard a familiar creak coming from the carpeted stairs leading to the second floor. The swinging door opened into the kitchen and a hand reached for the light switch.

"Leave them off, Judge."

He froze at the sound of her voice and flattened himself against the opposite wall. "What? Who's there?"

His startled voice tugged at her and she realized just how long it had been since they had spoken in person. "A ghost," she answered solemnly.

The judge hesitated, but even in the dark, he knew who it was. "Katherine?"

No one but the judge ever used her first name, and it sounded strange. She had almost forgotten it was hers. "Yeah."

The judge noted that she sounded tired. "My God, girl, what are you doing here?" he said, reaching again for the light switch. "It's been so long. Let me take a look at you?"

"Leave 'em off." She regretted the demanding tone in her voice. "Please."

Judge Woodward did as asked, crossed the dimly lit room and took a chair opposite her. "Katherine, you're sounding awful good for a dead person." Squinting in the low light, he didn't like what he saw in the shadows. "Rough work you're in?" He nodded toward her bruised cheek and the row of stitches. He watched in painful interest as her eyes went down to a scratch on the table she was picking at with her nail.

"Yeah, well, you should see the other guy," she said.

The judge waited, hoping she would say more. When she didn't, he could wait no longer. "Katherine, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath, but said nothing as she glanced out the back window. There was a long moment of profound silence before her low whispered words crept from the shadows. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Well, you are here and you can't change that now.' He watched her with knowing eyes, waiting, probing. "Something happened that was bad enough for you to risk coming out in the open." She turned back and looked at him, and he understood. "I have a military background, my dear. I have a pretty good idea what you're doing."

"I wish I did." There was an awkward moment of silence and it penetrated deep into her subconscious. Never before had she felt uneasy around the judge.

"Katherine?"

The concern was evident in his voice, but she didn't know what to say or how to say it. He watched her in the shadows, waiting long enough to know she was not going to answer him.

"I know you can't tell me what happened, but maybe I could help if you give me something to go on."

Her eyes darted around the room, telling him just how uncomfortable she was, but he wondered if her nerves came from whatever had happened or from who she had become. He waited and finally she spoke.

"Who am I?"

The judge leaned closer, knowing there was more to the question than the obvious. "I'm not sure how to answer that. Who do you think you are?"

There was a long silence, a palpable pause to have come from such a simple question. "I don't think I know anymore...1 don't think I ever really did. I've just followed orders." She stopped and the only sound in the room was the steady tick of the kitchen clock. "Because that's what a good soldier does...but at some point I stopped thinking for myself...I stopped caring." It was the most she had spoken all at once in a long time.

"That's your job."

"What?" she said as she stood up quickly from the table. "Not to care?"

"No." He wanted to reach out to her, but had no idea how. "Katherine, your job is to follow orders, because if you don't follow those orders, people will die."

Kenzie slowly unzipped her jacket. "People are dying whether I follow orders or not." She tossed the folded newspaper onto the table.

Picking it up, he moved to the light over the sink. Judge Woodward quickly scanned the paper, knowing it was her way of communicating without giving him information. The moment he spotted the military press release, he knew he had found what he was looking for.

"That was no accident." He read the article quickly. "Are you sure?" Kenzie nodded and waited for him to finish. When he was done, he returned to the table, put the paper down, and sat across from her.

"I was there."

"At the base?"

Kenzie stared into nothing, recalling the sights and sounds where she had just been - the flames, the heat, and the sound of gunfire, the stench of death as it rose into the night sky. Her conflict then was almost as bad as the conflict she was experiencing now. Kenzie looked at the judge as she fingered the injury to her face.

"Those men didn't die on any base." She reached for the paper and zipped it back into her jacket.

"Katherine?"

Kenzie noticed the growing gray of twilight and knew her time was up. "I gotta go."

"But you just got here. Stay for a bit, let's talk."

"I can't." She rose from the table, uncertain of what she was going to do. She did know that she should not have come. Her being there put her only friend at risk. "I, ah, I'm sorry...but I gotta go."

"Where are you going?" the judge asked.

She walked over to the door at the edge of the hallway, which would take her back to the basement. "I don't know. I have to deal with this myself."

"It was good to see you, Katherine. I've missed you - and our chess game."

She tried to smile but couldn't muster one. She didn't know whether it was because of the wound on her cheek, or the confusion in her conscience.

"Can you come back?"

"It might be better for us if I didn't."

"I'm here if you need me. Be careful."

"Always."

He watched as the basement door closed silently, and just like that, she was gone. Standing alone in his kitchen, Judge Woodward made his own decision and reached for the phone. Dialing a number, he listened to the ringing until a sleepy voice answered.

Kenzie had no idea what possessed her to go and see the judge, knowing she should not. Regardless, it had made her feel a little bit better. She kept her mind busy on the long drive back, and when she pulled into her driveway, she was certain she had made a decision.

With confident strides, she made her way up the stairs and stopped to unlock the back door, but it was already unlocked. Someone was in her house! Startled and apprehensive, she reached for her weapon. Crouching down, she pushed the door open from the bottom as a large figure filled the doorway in her kitchen.

"Where the hell have you been, LeGault?" Colonel Manuck said. "Have you got any goddamn idea what goes on when someone like you doesn't show up for a debriefing? Especially after a mission that was almost a disaster."

"Almost a disaster? It was a disaster!" She fought to calm her rising anger.

"We do what we have to do. We do what we're asked. People live and people die, for God, for country-"

Kenzie glared at her commander. "They didn't die for their country. They were murdered!"

"Sit down and shut up, LeGault. You do what you're told to do, and that's the end of it. You're not here to think, you're here to do, because we've trained you to do it - period!"

"I didn't sign up for this."

"No one ever does, but someone has to do the dirty work and that's what we do."

Kenzie couldn't help looking down at her hands, knowing just how dirty they had become. She picked at her bitten fingernails, digging at the rough skin around the edges. "Did you know what we were being sent there to do?"

"You do what you're told to do - period. What we do here is highly sensitive and classified. We can't afford the actions of one person to destroy the delicate balance of our nation's safety and security."

Kenzie crossed the room and looked out the window, her eyes scanning the busy streets below. She crossed her arms, but it felt uncomfortable and unnatural. "So what happens now?"

"That depends on you." Manuck sat down at her desk, ignoring the thin layer of dust covering the unused work area. Pulling herself from the view out her window, she turned to watch him. He felt her stare. Wiping his hands off, he turned his attention back to her. "I need to know - are you an asset or a liability?"

"Meaning what?"

Manuck picked up a briefcase and placed it on the table. Keeping his attention on Kenzie, he opened it and looked down at the two large envelopes with her name on them. He pulled out one and offered it. "Your next assignment." He never took his eyes off her.

As she studied the lines in his face, Kenzie knew it was a test. "What if I don't take it?" There was no answer as his dark eyes returned her questioning stare. "What if that was my last assignment and I wanted to...let's say, take an extended leave, without a return date?"