The Guardian's Wildchild (43 page)

“Actually, it’s my boys. They, that is, I was to pick them up after school. Are all the classes out?”

“Yes, all classes are finished. Perhaps you should check with the school’s principal, Dorothy Gray, right over there in that office at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you, miss.” Sam hurried down the hall. Once he found Dorothy Gray, he introduced himself.

“Oh, how nice to meet you, Captain. In for just a few days, are you?”

“Yes. Can you tell me where my sons are?”

“Certainly, Captain. Two of your fine naval officers came and picked them up a couple of hours ago.”

“What? They’re gone?”

“Why, yes. Must admit, their teachers weren’t too happy about the unscheduled interruption, but the men insisted. They told the teachers that there was some urgent family business and the boys were needed right away. I’m surprised you don’t know anything about this, Captain.”

Sam grabbed onto the principal’s arms. “Ms. Gray, did the men give their names?”

The principal’s friendly demeanor dropped at Sam’s rough contact. She yanked her arms out of his grip.

“I understand there are nuances with your custody arrangement, so before I tell you anything more, I’ll have to check the files to see what information you’re authorized to receive. You may have a seat while I locate your file.”

Sam didn’t waste any more time. He rushed out of the school and back to his rented car. On his way, he connected to his boys’ comlink. They didn’t reply. Upon reaching his car, he contacted the Admiral’s office.

“Admiral Garland’s office. Celine speaking.”

“Celine! I’ve got to speak to the admiral right away.”

“Is that you, Captain Waterhouse?”

“Yes. Now, the admiral, now!” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, Captain. The admiral isn’t in, and we don’t expect him back today. He said he had personal business to attend to and would be at his home office by sixteen-hundred hours.”

Sam’s heart pounded in his chest. It raced along, robbing him of his breath. His whole body felt heavy and unwilling to move as fast as he needed it to. He cut off his conversation with Celine and visually scanned the school grounds. Nothing appeared out of place. In an act of desperation, he called out his sons’ names and held his breath. He only heard the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

It was almost 1555 hours. He called the admiral’s home office. Only the answering unit responded. He clicked off the call and connected with the admiral’s house staff who also advised him that the admiral wasn’t expected home until for perhaps another hour.

“Is Perkins, there?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“The second the admiral gets home, tell him to call me. Understand? It’s urgent. And if the boys show up there, make sure they call me immediately. Is that clear?” He was almost shouting.

“Yes, Captain.”

Sam considered calling Clay. He initiated a call to the detective’s comlink twice and canceled both times. He had a gut feeling this either wasn’t the right time or, perhaps, it was best to keep the civilian forces out of this. He wished he knew how to get in touch with Danik. He called Commander Moon.

“USS
Nonnah
, Commander Moon.”

“Rhett, have you received any orders from the admiral’s office this afternoon?”

“Hello, Sam. Yes, and rather odd. Just got it, about an hour ago. The
Nonnah
is to remain off shore from New Seattle. My orders are to anchor out at sea one hundred nautical miles southwest of the base. What’s going on, Sam?”

“Oh Christ,” he muttered.

“Sounds like there’s trouble.”

“Could be, Rhett. Is there anything else going on that’s out of the ordinary?”

“Butchart has ordered that for the next twenty-four hours no helicopters are to approach the
Nonnah
unless approved by him personally.”

Sam clenched his teeth and breathed forcefully through his nose. The orders had a devastating effect on his plans. He wouldn’t be able to reach Sidney and get her off the ship. He paced feverishly around his car.

“Captain?” called out Moon.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to regain control of his thoughts. “Rhett, at this point you and the
Nonnah
are in no danger. But my boys have disappeared. I can’t let them take my boys, Rhett.”

“Who? Captain, surely the admiral has — ”

“Rhett, the admiral isn’t necessarily in control anymore. Waterhouse out.”

Sam placed a call again to the admiral’s home office. Admiral Garland answered.

Sam struggled to control his anger. “Sir, I’m at the school, but my boys are gone. Perkins never showed. I was told two naval officers took them out of school early. Where the hell are they?”

The admiral paused before responding and cleared his throat.

“Just hold on, Waterhouse. Every few weeks Perkins has to take the boys to some sports tournament, or to a dentist’s appointment, or out for any number of reasons. I’m sure they’re fine.”

Sam’s suspicions wouldn’t let go. He made his way directly to the admiral’s home.

Butchart checked his watch. It was 1600 hours. He hoped everything went well at the school. By now he figured that Sam was crawling the walls, a thought that gave him pleasure. He drove to the admiral’s home. On his way, he contacted Perkins.

“Got the two screaming Waterhouse brats locked up in the lab’s dark room,” Perkins reported. “Everything’s under control. A video link is ready so Sam can see we’re damn serious, sir.”

“Excellent. Stand by. I’ll call from the admiral’s home in about an hour and half.” Butchart was eager to exercise his superiority over both Sam and the admiral.

Sam met the admiral in his office. Though temporary repairs had been made, it was obvious a skirmish had taken place in the admiral’s domain.

“I spoke with Perkins,” the admiral said. “It’s as I thought — the boys are at a basketball tournament. They’ll be back by seventeen-hundred hours.”

“They never mentioned it yesterday. My boys better be here within the hour.” Sam could see the admiral was nervous, fidgeting with a pen. He avoided eye contact with Sam. “Admiral, within the hour,” he repeated.

“Oh, hell, why are you making a fuss? Perkins has always treated the boys well, buys them ice cream, takes them shopping. Like an uncle, he is.”

Sam wanted to relax, but his instincts wouldn’t let go of the feeling of imminent danger.

“I’ve given more thought to your offer.” Sam sat in front of the admiral and consciously focused on his breathing.
Remain calm.
“Sidney won’t agree to working for the U.S. Naval Forces.”

“That’s unfortunate. Our deal was for you to give me Sidney and you’ll get your freedom. You talk to that woman and make her know the consequences if she doesn’t cooperate.”

“I can’t do that, sir.”

“Then you’d better get ready to board the
Nonnah
. She’s anchored just beyond New Seattle’s naval harbor.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “All right, just let Sidney go.”

“No. In fact, I plan take her off the ship and deal with her personally. If she’s who you say she is, then I need Butchart to handle her. It’ll be a while before I can trust her.”

“He’ll kill her.”

“Not unless I order him to.”

Sam abandoned his endeavor to remain calm. “Are you so arrogant that you think Captain Butchart follows your orders and disregards his own agenda?”

The two men cursed each other without reservation for rank or military conduct. The outpouring contained the old wounds and suspicions. It was with great effort that both refrained from physical violence. After ten minutes of shooting verbal daggers at one another, the two men became silent.

The admiral stood silent, surveying the room that only yesterday had been shattered by bullets. He believed his life was also becoming a disaster, surrounded by villains and the inept. He was constantly on the defensive, guessing at who might be waiting to impale him with a knife into his back. It was exhausting to be constantly on the alert. Lately he felt older than his fifty-two years, lacking his usual sharp mind and energetic body. He feared for his sanity.

As Sam observed him, he saw a lonely man struggling to maintain what he believed in as good and enduring. He saw a man lost without the loving guidance of his wife and adrift from the quiet within that brings peace, clarity, and joy. Sam felt a surprising connection to the man he’d despised.

Ever so carefully, Sam withdrew a long, narrow envelope from his inside breast pocket. He hesitated. What was in the envelope was considered a sacred gift.

Does one share such things?
Will its magic be enough to calm the paranoia in the admiral, enough to open his eyes to see the truth of the destruction he’s wielding with Madame? Will its Light help him see clearly and set him free from his fears
?”

Sam reached into the envelope and took out the feather, the red-tailed hawk’s feather that had driven him to near insanity only a few days ago. He stepped toward the admiral and slowly offered the feather to him.

“What the hell is that?” the admiral scowled and stepped away.

Sam slowed his breathing. It was vital for him to make a connection with his nemesis. Time was running out. To obtain his freedom and get Sidney off the
Nonnah
, he needed the admiral as an ally.

“Admiral, you of all people know that what appears to be fact, isn’t all there is to know. This appears to be a feather, but it isn’t. See for yourself.”

Sam realized he needed to use his Guardian nature. With that conscious thought, he felt a surge of energy. In seconds he shifted from Captain Samaru Waterhouse to Sam, the Guardian. Even his voice changed slightly. As he spoke, he hoped the admiral would give in to trust.

“Please take the gift.” He offered the feather with an open palm. “I know you’re a wise man and fear nothing. This gift will show you that though something may appear fragile, it has great strength and endurance, like you, John.”

The admiral was taken aback. Very few people called him John. It made him feel like the man he’d been many years ago. Before he was an admiral. Before his wife died. Gingerly, he took the feather into his trembling hand. He looked at its colorful markings and studied the delicate edges. Sam moved quickly to place a chair behind the admiral as he slumped backward, still focused on the feather as it spoke to him in a language known only to his higher self.

The trembling of his hand became worse, and the feather fell to the floor. His entire body shook, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“No!” he screamed. “No! Run!”

The admiral leaped from his chair and darted about the room. Then he found a corner and pressed himself into it. Clawing at the walls, panting and mumbling nonsense, he collapsed to the floor.

Sam knelt down and reached for the admiral’s chest. Touching the space near his heart, he said, “John, you’re free.”

Instantly, the vision that was revealing the truth to the Admiral was terminated. He was confused and embarrassed to find himself huddled on the floor. Slowly, he rose to standing and touched a severely damaged section of wall.