Cloud Invasion: R-D 2 (R-D #2)(46)

Under the circumstances, it was understandable.

*

Merle Askins' Office

"That's one down for sure," Merle studied the newly-acquired autopsy report, photographs included. "His outer body looked younger than the internal organs. I always wondered about that."

"What about the rest?" His assistant asked.

"Oh, we still have something planned. If that doesn't draw them out, nothing will."

"So we can be assured they're dead, if they fail to respond?"

"One in particular, and without a doubt."

*

Ilya

"Where are they-Maye and Dr. Farrell?" I asked. Dinner was long over, the kitchen cleaned and everything put away. I'd built a fire in the fireplace inside our suite while Corinne dressed in warm fleece.

"They're out spooning," she said.

"Spooning?"

"They haven't gotten to the forking part, yet. They're still discussing spooning."

"How old are you again?" I grinned at her.

"Younger than you," she swatted my arm before dropping onto the thick rug before the fireplace.

"Is this an invitation?" I asked, reaching for her outstretched hand.

"What else would it be?"

"Excellent." I dropped to the rug beside her.

"Want some wine?" she asked.

"I don't need it," I leaned in to kiss her neck. "I have what I need."

"Me, too." She pulled my face up for a kiss.

Perhaps if we had gone to bed instead of making love, or perhaps if our timing had been different, something might have been done. As it was, when the deed was accomplished in a city far from where we were, Corinne went into shock. Dr. Farrell, thankfully, was available, or she might have left all of us behind.





Chapter 10

Notes-Colonel Hunter

I'd gotten a coded message from James while I watched the news the following morning. Every crawler on every station said the same thing-Darin Majors, Jr., shot by unknown assailant at his apartment in Cambridge, MA.

Every newscaster was having a field day with the fact that Darin Majors, the only child of noted author, Harriett Majors, and Darin Majors, Sr., a prominent Atlanta attorney, was now dead.

You'd think that Harriett Majors was dead all over again. I remembered news of her death, more than six years earlier. I'd believed the information disseminated then-that she and her husband were killed in a car accident in Wales.

I wanted to laugh bitterly. Richard Farrell, noted scientist, had been in Wales, Alaska, when he'd supposedly suffered his heart attack. Both he and Harriett were still alive.

Darin-Sr. and Jr.-were the ones dead.

James' cryptic message informed me that Corinne was suffering in some way; he just couldn't elaborate. He'd called her Tippy, she was a stray cat he'd found, and was now receiving veterinary care.

At least Richard Farrell was there to take care of her. I had no idea what this would do to her in the long term-both her husband and son, now dead, likely due to the same source.

This was their last ditch effort to prove the lie we'd told.

Instead, they'd killed an innocent man. After reflecting on thousands of deaths in Ketchikan, one more would mean nothing to them.

What was their end game? Phillips had control of the U.S. before. Wasn't that enough?

Let Tippy know you love her, my text read. Sometimes that helps as much as medicine.

I will. The vet has her on an IV right now. I hope she makes it.

*

Ilya

She wouldn't wake. At times, I thought it a blessing, as the f*cking media wouldn't drop the news about her son. Harriett Majors' last dust jacket photograph was shown continuously, next to a yearbook photo of her son.

Police had no suspects and few leads on the shooter-the best they had was someone out walking his dog who reported a shadowy figure slipping between buildings not long after the body was discovered.

There was no description-it was too dark to get useful information.

Those of us in Alaska knew who was behind this killing, however. They'd attempted to draw Corinne out one last time.

They'd sacrificed her son to continue playing their game.

Would they reveal their agenda openly, now? Would Corinne come back to us to help wage that battle?

I felt lost again. I did convince Farrell to set sunlamps about our bed, however. They were now on constantly while we waited-and hoped-for her recovery.

*

Private Journal

Dr. Richard Farrell

Although Corinne's vitals were marginally normal, it's as if we were back to the point after she'd been shot in D.C. She was so deeply entrenched in her unconscious that nobody could pull her out.

Was she mourning or dying? I couldn't tell. An IV was the best I could do for her-we didn't have the necessary equipment to do more than that. Rafe admitted they were asleep after sex when the murder took place-she was likely worn out after a long day of rescuing me.

It was no surprise that the enemy would target someone she cared about. They'd caught her unaware, this time. I had no idea what she'd have done if she'd been aware.

Maye's arm slipped around my waist as I stood at the bedside and studied Corinne. Maye's affection had come as a surprise-yes, I felt something for her, but imagined that she'd refuse any advances.