Paternal Instincts

In spite of his weakened condition, Eric managed a defiant scowl. “They think I’m a traitor. I’m not.”

Tobias smiled reassuringly. “We all know that. Susan Irving was the mole. She told you The Manager wanted you to fake your death and go out into the cold with her as your only contact.”

“Yes. I assumed she was relaying orders like always. They were coded.”

“She broke the code.”

Picturing the pretty blonde with such innocent eyes, Eric wondered if he was hallucinating. “She was the mole?”

“Never underestimate a secretary or a receptionist.” Tobias repeated the lesson he’d learned.

“Did you catch her?”

“Yes.” Tobias frowned as if displeased with himself. “After she was caught, she kept offering to cut a deal. At first, we refused. Fear for her safety had caused her to give us information that helped nail one of her cohorts in Mexico and we figured she didn’t have much else to bargain with. Then she told us there was a man who’d taught her how to run her operation. In return, she’d paid him a percentage of the profits. She gave us the account number she’d put the money in, but it had been cleaned out about the time you’d gotten shot.”

“Guess he was worried she wasn’t covering her trail well enough and decided to sever his ties,” Eric muttered.

Tobias nodded. “Most likely. According to her, she wasn’t his only pupil. She was certain he had others he’d taught and continued to deal with. She also suspected that he sometimes ran an operation himself just for the kicks.”

“A mastermind who trains thieves and traitors. Nice guy,” Eric said.

The frown on Tobias’s face deepened. “She wouldn’t give us the name until the deal was struck. Before that could happen, in spite of the security that was provided, she was poisoned. One of her guards had sold out for half a million dollars. He was found dead a couple of days later with a bullet in the head.”

“And you never found out who she was going to name?”

Tobias shook his head. “I’m not even certain this mastermind she described exists. She could have emptied out that account herself and was creating a fictitious bad guy because she knew she needed something dramatic with which to deal. As to who paid for her death, she’d dealt with a lot of ruthless men, any of whom would have been afraid she might give evidence against them.” His frown faded, replaced by an expression of concern. “Enough about Susan. How are you feeling?”

“As if I’ve been asleep for a year.”

“Actually, it’s been nearly three years.”

Eric stared at Tobias in disbelief. This had to be one of those realistic nightmares. He ordered himself to wake up. Nothing changed.

“You were shot,” Tobias reminded him.

“That I remember.”

“The bullet did a lot of damage. You were operated on. While you were in intensive care, another attempt was made on your life. The doctor was instructed to make up a fake death certificate and then we had you transported to this private clinic. We were warned that transporting you could be dangerous but felt it was necessary in order to keep you alive. During transport you slipped into a coma. To be honest, when the nurse walked in this morning and found you awake, it was a shock to the staff here. They’d given up on you.” Tobias grinned. “But I hadn’t. Tenacity was one of the major traits I looked for when recruiting my people.”

Eric was still having trouble comprehending this news. “Three years?” He suddenly frowned, recalling that Harold had taken over Tobias’s position as head of The Unit before all of this had happened. “Why are you here? I thought you’d retired…vanished from the game.”

“I’m doing a friend a favor.”

Mentally, Eric gave himself a slap on the head. Of course Harold wouldn’t have come himself and risked exposing himself and one of his people.

“We think all of the loose ends have been cleaned up,” Tobias said. “But it would help if you could tell me about your activities during the weeks prior to your being shot.”

“I’ve been trying to remember, but I’m drawing a blank. The truth is my memory is pretty spotty for the two or three years before I was shot. I guess I remember Susan because I was about to tell Thistle and Coyote she was my contact. The doc says that it’s not unusual for me to remember the very last things that were on my mind. He also says I might not get all of my memory back, and if I do, it’ll probably be in bits and pieces.”

“Susan was very crafty. I doubt you discovered anything of any. importance during the time you were being manipulated by her. Following your transfer from the hospital to here, there were a few inquiries made to determine if you were actually dead, but they ceased immediately after her capture. That makes me think that she was the only one worried about what you could reveal. You just work on getting your strength back. When you have, I’ll return.” Rising, Tobias frowned critically as his gaze traveled over Eric’s lean form. “Your old wardrobe won’t fit. I’ll arrange for some sweat suits and tennis shoes to be provided for you until you’re ready to leave here. Then you can do your own shopping.”

Eric watched him leave. Three years. He’d lost three years of his life. “Looks like I have some catching up to do.”

“Forty,” Eric counted under his breath, completing another push-up. It was four weeks since he’d returned to the world of the living. His muscle tone was improving, but he still wasn’t up to his full potential. Normally he could have done a hundred before tiring. Currently, fifty was his limit. When he finished this warm-up, he’d go through his katas, retraining his body to make the defensive karate moves with a sharpness that would hopefully keep him alive when he returned to the field.

Sensing he was being watched, he paused in the raised position and looked covertly toward the door. The polished leather shoes and gold-tipped cane told him who his visitor was. In one lithe movement he was on his feet. “I hope you’ve come to spring me from this place.”

“I have,” Tobias confirmed.

Half an hour later Eric sat beside his former superior in the rear seat of a rented luxury sedan. The blond man behind the wheel had been introduced to him as Tobias’s grandnephew, Hagen Scanlon.

“Your doctor insists you be given a couple more months off duty to regain your full strength. You’ll have it,” Tobias said as the sedan pulled away from the private clinic. “After that you have two options. You can return to active duty in the military or take an early retirement and return to civilian life. If you choose the latter, I’d like you to consider coming to work for me. I’m running a private investigative agency now.”

Eric grinned wryly. “Since returning to The Unit isn’t one of those options, can I assume Harold is worried that I’ve lost my edge and will endanger his operation?”

“We’re all aware that a close brush with death can affect a man, change his outlook. He might let fear rule, bolt too quickly…make mistakes.”

“And you’re not worried about that?”

“I know you. You’re too responsible to knowingly endanger anyone. If you’ve lost your edge, you’ll tell me.”

Eric heard the question in Tobias’s voice. “I don’t think I’ve lost it. I’d still like to save the world from the bad guys.”

Tobias nodded his approval. “However, as for The Unit, Harold’s worry about you losing your edge isn’t the only reason that isn’t an option. Susan compromised its operation. It has been relocated and restaffed.”

Recalling how protective both Tobias and Harold were toward their people, Eric nodded his understanding.

“So, now you know your options,” Tobias continued in businesslike tones. “Consider them. In the meantime you need a place to recuperate.” He extracted a large manila envelope from a nearby briefcase and handed it to Eric. “When you showed no signs of coming out of the coma, I had myself appointed your legal guardian. I canceled the lease on your apartment and had your furniture and personal effects put into storage.” He named a storage company and a location just outside Washington, D.C. “The key to your private storage lock-up is in there.” He nodded toward the envelope. “There is also your savings account book, your checkbook, a current credit card and an ATM card. The military wouldn’t keep you on full salary. They wanted something to defer your medical costs. However, since the balance in your checking and savings accounts was fairly high, I had all new monies invested and they’ve paid off nicely. Currently, Hesper Lawton, my personal financial advisor, is overseeing your account. Her name and phone number are in there, and when you want access to any of those funds, just contact her.”

Eric frowned. “I had a designated amount each month being sent to the O’Malley Home for Boys.”

“I saw that that was continued in full.” Concern entered Tobias’s voice. “However, three months ago I received notification that the O’Malley account had been closed. I’d been having your mail forwarded to me. A few days later a letter arrived from a Roxanne Dugan, informing you of Maude O’Malley’s death and the closing of the home. It’s all in that envelope.”

Eric felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. Maude O’Malley wasn’t blood kin and, other than the money he’d sent regularly, he hadn’t seen her in years. Still, she was the closest to family he had.

“My jet is at the airport. I’ll drop you and Hagen off in Washington, D.C., so you can renew your driver’s license and buy some more clothes. And, if you want, you can get your car out of storage. It’s at the same place as your other belongings. After that, I’d like for you to come up to my place to recuperate. Hagen will show you the way. It’s right outside of Craftsbury Common, Vermont. The mountain air will do you good and the quiet will give you time to think about your future,” Tobias continued.

“I’ll want to make a stop in Pennsylvania,” Eric said around the lump in his throat. “I need to pay my respects to Maude.”

Tobias nodded.

They had reached the airport. After boarding the plane and buckling himself into his seat, Eric leaned back, closed his eyes and recalled Maude O’Malley as he’d first seen her. She was medium in build, standing around five feet six inches tall, with flaming red hair lightly streaked with gray, and green eyes. He doubted that any woman had more spirit than her. The O’Malley Home for Boys had been born because of that spirit.

Maude’s husband, Norman, had died, leaving her alone with the farm to run. She’d been in her mid-thirties at the time and determined to keep the place. When it came around to harvest time, she couldn’t find help. She’d grown up in Eric’s neighborhood. It was a blue-collar enclave in Philadelphia that had fallen on hard times. She went back there looking for some sturdy teenage boys to hire for a month.

“All the good’uns done gone,” one of the older women had told her. “All’s we got left is the troublemakers and loafers.”

“Then I’ll take what’s left,” Maude had said. She’d found four boys to take back with her. Two went home almost immediately when they discovered how much work was involved. But two had stayed until the crop was in.