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In the Shadow of Truth Page 2
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“Everyone in this class has a reason, Sam. Grieve for your sister. Put those emotions into everything you do. Honor her memory. Let it give you the strength you’ll need to do the things you’re going to have to do.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Anger can be useful, or it can be dangerous. Harness it, and it can be invaluable. Let it consume you and … well …” She knew she didn’t need to finish. “Your choice.”
She put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a warning. “Start thinking about the people around you, or you’re out.”
He looked at the floor and nodded again.
Kathryn patted him on the back and headed for the door. “Don’t forget your pistol.”
Jenny arrived home and smiled because Kathryn’s car was there. Kathryn had said she’d call later and maybe they could squeeze in a late lunch, but surprise appearances were even better. Jenny called out when she entered the house but got no reply. A hopeful glance into the bedroom came up empty, and a peek into the living room yielded the same result.
She turned around and headed toward the kitchen. “Kat?”
No answer.
She worried that she’d find Kathryn sitting solemnly at the kitchen table, arms folded, waiting to have a serious discussion about the reaction she saw in class. All serious discussions took place at the kitchen table. Jenny didn’t know why.
Her fear was unfounded, and she smiled as the room came into view. From the cutting board covered with apple cores, grape stems, spent tea bags, and bread crusts, Jenny knew that somewhere lunch awaited. She looked out the kitchen window and saw Kathryn spreading a picnic blanket on the end of the dock. “Mm,” she hummed with a grin. “I’m keeping you.”
* * *
Kathryn looked toward the house and waved as the screened back door closed with a bang. Jenny was smiling—a welcome sight after her shell-shocked demeanor in class. Kathryn feared the first day of special ops training had been a little rough on her, and truth be told, it hadn’t exactly been easy on her either. She felt a relaxing lunch on a perfect summer day would go a long way toward balancing her duties as an instructor and her concerns as a friend.
When she arrived, Jenny immediately wrapped herself around her body and stole a badly needed kiss. “Hi.”
Kathryn was startled by the open display of affection, but a quick scan of their surroundings showed that between the boathouse on the left and a stand of trees and thick foliage on the right, they were quite secluded. Kathryn relaxed and enjoyed the passionate greeting, knowing it was probably all the passion she had time for this afternoon. She didn’t really have time for lunch either, but Jenny was more important than a rehearsal.
“What a surprise,” Jenny said with a grin, as they settled onto the blanket.
Kathryn poured a glass of iced tea and handed it to her. “Glad you like it.”
“I thought you had a new set to work out at the club?”
Kathryn shrugged as she poured herself a glass and raised it in a toast. “Who wants to be caged in a smoky club all afternoon when I can be here with you? Cheers.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Cheers.”
Lunch hit the spot, and they talked about everything in the world except what had happened in class. Kathryn wound up with her back against a piling, her legs extended and crossed, while Jenny reclined with her head resting on her thigh. Jenny had grown increasingly quiet as she twirled a daisy between her fingers, pretending the act required great concentration.
“Are you all right?” Kathryn finally asked, sensing the day was weighing on her.
Jenny took a deep breath and exhaled. “You haven’t mentioned anything about this morning.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Jenny hesitated. “Are you asking me as my friend or as my evaluating instructor?”
Kathryn smiled and gently guided a wave of blonde hair from Jenny’s forehead. “I think they both need to know.”
Jenny’s lips pressed into a thin line, and the truth came out easily. “The thought of killing someone sickens me.”
“As it should.”
“But it can’t.” Jenny looked up. “Not if I want to do this job.”
Kathryn wanted to give her every opportunity to back out gracefully, as she suspected pride had a lot to do with her determination. “Do you want to do this job?”
Jenny sat up and twisted her body so that they were face to face. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, Why? My country has called on me. It’s my duty.”
“No, your country gave you the opportunity. You decided this is how you wanted to serve her. Why?”
“Because winning this war means that much to me. Freedom means that much to me.”
It was an answer, but not the deeply personal, hard-sought answer Kathryn was looking for. She knew Jenny would give it her all—knew that she would probably excel at most tasks—but it took more than that. It took a burning in the soul, an all-consuming fire that hurled one unflinchingly toward danger or death, with equal disregard for both. Kathryn knew Jenny didn’t have that. She hoped for her sake she never would.
“Was that the right answer? Did I pass the test?” Jenny joked weakly.
Suddenly, Jenny was a student seeking approval. Kathryn regretted her job’s intrusion into their precious personal time, but she realized, with Jenny in training, that would soon be the norm rather than the exception.
“It wasn’t a test,” Kathryn said with a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. “Just a question.”
Jenny nodded and was quiet for a beat. “How do you know? How do you know if you’ll be able to kill someone?”
Kathryn was silent. There wasn’t an easy answer, and certainly none that would sound reasonable while sitting on a dock in the States, enjoying a lazy, sunny day. “You don’t think about it. It’s war. It’s you or them.”
“They’re still human beings.”
Kathryn looked into Jenny’s confused, innocent eyes and regretted that soon they would no longer hold the same wonder, and they would no longer seek the answers to such questions. The truth was too ugly, and rationalization would soon swallow wonder whole.
“It’s different over there.” Kathryn paused, trying to figure out how to justify the inhumanity of war to the uninitiated. “It all makes sense somehow when you’re there.” In truth, nothing made sense. You ceased to feel, you ceased to care, you ceased to think. “The heat of the moment … the constant fear. It allows you to do things you never thought you could.” She looked into the distance. “It’s about survival. You do your job and then, hopefully, you come home.”
“And then?”
And then it makes even less sense. “And then it’s hard to explain to someone who’s never been there.”
Jenny took her hand. “Sorry.”
Kathryn smiled, pushing her memories and the darkness away. “Don’t be.” She raised her chin and distanced herself from her past deeds. “The urge not to kill is more natural than the urge to kill. What you’re feeling is perfectly normal. As your training goes on, you’ll be better able to judge your capabilities.”
As will the agency.
“Wait,” Jenny said for the third time as she held the phone between her chin and shoulder and rolled down her sleeve. “Ber … Bernie, slow down. What?”
Kathryn retained the quizzical look on her face as she stood in the foyer lamenting their interrupted goodbye.
“That’s impossible. I worked in the same building with him for an entire summer. I think I would know Cal Richards when I saw him.”
Kathryn’s face went from quizzical to concerned, matching Jenny’s expression.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Jenny continued, as the crease in her brow deepened. “Okay, okay … let me get this straight. You’re telling me that the man they just buried … your Cal Richards … is not the Cal Richards I knew from the mailroom?”
Kathryn moved closer and could hear Bernie’s
answer through the tinny handset speaker. “Correct.” Then she swore she heard a sob. “Who did I love? Was it even real?”
Jenny put her hand to her forehead and looked helplessly at Kathryn. “Oh, sweetie, of course it was real.”
Another sob. “How will I ever know that?”
Jenny didn’t have an answer and grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Bernie. So sorry.”
Kathryn backed away to give them privacy, until Bernie’s end of the conversation turned into indistinct chatter. Jenny appeared on the verge of breaking down herself. She closed her tear-filled eyes and covered the mouthpiece with her hand to keep it from Bernie. She nodded a few times, shook her head in disbelief, and then got hold of her emotions before she took her hand away and spoke.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to—” He evidently cut her off, and Jenny bowed her head with a dejected, “Okay. I know. Mhmm.” She raised her chin, as if he’d changed tack and she had doubts about his next move. “So, what are you going to do? Uh-huh … yeah … well, don’t do anything stupid … yes, you. Okay … mm … all right. Call me if you …” Need me never came out, so she settled on, “Call me … I know … Love you too, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
She hung up the phone and put her hand on her hip, turning to Kathryn in disbelief. “Sergeant Calvin Richards—the Calvin Richards I knew from the Daily Chronicle—died in a military training accident … two years ago.”
“Two years ago? Then who was—”
“Exactly.”
Wild scenarios swam in her head, but Kathryn didn’t voice them.
Jenny moved to her side. “Poor Bernie, and there’s nothing I can do for him. Why would someone impersonate Calvin Richards? To what end?”
Kathryn took Jenny into her arms to comfort her. Who would orchestrate such a thing? Paul? Forrester? And why indeed?
At the training center the next day, Kathryn sat in a joint meeting between her OSS handler, Colonel Forsythe, and his British Special Operations Executive counterpart, Colonel Holmes, and watched a scowl darken the SOE colonel’s face.
“How could she not know he was a different man?” Colonel Holmes asked skeptically, looking up from her report.
Kathryn didn’t hide her glare when she retold Jenny’s explanation of the mistaken identity. Apparently, she didn’t really know the fellow, couldn’t even say they were acquaintances. The Calvin Richards she remembered from the Daily Chronicle was a skinny redheaded, freckle-faced boy who could have easily grown into the young man who presented himself as Cal Richards four years later.
Holmes accepted the explanation with a less than enthusiastic grunt, but he was intrigued when he learned Jenny felt her uncle had something to do with his arrival and deception.
“Thank you, Kathryn,” Colonel Forsythe said, as he sifted through some papers. “You may go. Keep us posted if you learn anything new.”
She nodded and rose to leave. Holmes followed her to the exit with his eyes but didn’t wait for the door to close before he began rattling off orders in a rapid British staccato.
“Let’s start at the Daily Chronicle. Get a hold of Paul Ryan. Threaten him with the FBI, the IRS, I don’t care. I want answers this time.”
Kathryn raised her brow and hoped the OSS would have better luck with Paul than Jenny had. Her uncle had given her a flat-out denial that he knew Cal Richards to be anyone other than who he claimed to be. Things hadn’t been right between Jenny and her uncle since before the benefit, and from Jenny’s quick accusation, Kathryn could tell not much had changed since then.
It was premature to say Jenny was unraveling, but her personal relationships certainly were. Her truce with Bernie was tenuous, pending his return, and her conversation with her uncle had gone badly, as indictments often do—the part where he called her irrational and paranoid was a highlight in a morning that also included an equally dreadful shouting match with her aunt, who was blindly backing her husband.
Even their relationship was not immune to discord, as the stress of the first week of intensive training took its toll on both of them.
Kathryn was feeling the oppressive weight of their uncertain future. At the end of training was a mission waiting to happen. She could hardly bear to consider it. The thought of Jenny actually in any of the scenarios for which she was training, and the thought that they would probably be separated in a few short weeks, was overwhelming at times. It was getting increasingly harder to hide her feelings about it, and Jenny sensed the change as they both became introspective.
Jenny stopped asking questions about the job when they were alone together. Kathryn didn’t mind. The subject had stolen so much from them already. Not even the sanctity of Luc’s apartment could save them from themselves. Both were left tiptoeing around each other’s sensitivities. Sympathetic smiles and cautious “Are you okay?” questions now dominated their once comfortable space.
Kathryn left Colonel Forsythe’s office at the training center and walked across the open courtyard toward the building that housed her classroom. No matter the outcome of Paul’s interrogation, she had a feeling all hell was about to break loose, and, somehow, naturally, Jenny was going to be right in the middle of it. She couldn’t stop what had been set in motion, but she could bridge the distance that had grown between them. Their time was too short, too short even for their fears.
Kathryn picked up her pace. She had a class to teach and then some tender love and care to administer. Jenny was on edge, especially after the run-in with her family. Her parting words on the telephone that morning about her uncle were ominous, revealing the steely determination of a woman who would not stop until she had the answer.
I know he’s lying to me, Kathryn. I know he is.
Chapter Two
Kathryn eyed the expectant faces of her students and braced herself for the first test of their commitment to the cause. Most failed, and she was curious to see how this group would fare.
“At the beginning of the week, I told you to learn your manuals. Is there anyone here who has not done so?” The class stared back confidently. “No one?” She paused, waiting for someone to confess their sin. Saints all, apparently, as the silence continued. “Excellent.” She sat on the edge of her desk and pointed at her first victim.
“Hendricks, what’s the first line of chapter thirteen?”
Silence ensued as the young man searched the air for the answer.
“Okay,” she drew out. “What’s the title of chapter thirteen?”
He ran his hand across his razor stubbled chin and shifted uncomfortably.
Kathryn crossed her arms. “You did read the manual, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as more a question than a statement.
Kathryn smiled curtly. “That’s nice.”
She slid off her desk and stood over the trainee with her hands clasped behind her back like a drill sergeant.
“Mr. Hendricks,” she began pleasantly. “I understand this is a lot to take in. So much to study and learn—new words, new concepts, a change in your lifestyle, how you interact with the world, and on and on. Every day is a new gut check, and you wonder if you’re going to make the grade—it’s all rather unsettling, really. Isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” he said cautiously.
“Perhaps I’m being a bit unreasonable to think you could possibly remember such insignificant little details like exact lines of text and numbers of chapters … things like that, hm?”
Hendricks sat up a little straighter. “Well, yes ma’am, I believe it is. Thank you for your understanding.”
“Yes, well, I’m the understanding sort,” Kathryn smiled.
She saw Jenny raise her brow in recognition of her disingenuous delivery. Hendricks didn’t have a clue.
“After all,” she went on, as she paced in front of the class, “it’s the gist of the thing that’s important, not the silly little details, right, Hendricks?”
“Exactly, ma’am,” he said confidently.
“So, we’
ll dispense with this silliness and you can just give me the gist of chapter thirteen.” She turned and stared at him. “Sound fair?”
Hendricks nodded but had no answer.
Kathryn shook her head and exhaled a disappointed breath. “Anyone know the answer?” she asked in a bored tone, expecting a flurry of hands in the air. She was met with a room full of silently shifting trainees. “Any answer?” she asked in disbelief.
Out of the corner of her eye came a movement that caught her attention.
“Rogers, do not even think of opening that manual now. Cheating is not going to save your life out there.” She looked back to the rest of the class and raised her voice as she picked up her copy and held it in the air. “I asked you all to learn your manuals. I didn’t ask you to skim through them or just look at the pretty pictures.” She threw the bound paper volume on her desk in disgust. “Did no one do as I asked?”
Jenny looked around timidly before slowly raising the pencil in her hand.
“I did.”
Kathryn found it hard not to smile. Of course she did.
“And?” she said sternly, trying to retain her annoyed composure.
“The title of chapter thirteen is Interrogation. The first line is Welcome to hell, you’ve been captured. The gist is pretty ugly, so don’t get captured in the first place.”
“Thank you, Ryan.” She turned again to the class. “To the rest of you, this is not a fucking game.” She let them absorb her anger and disappointment before continuing. “The silly little details in this book could save your life.”
Kathryn properly scolded the group, walked back to her desk, and leaned on the corner. “Next week we start field training. That means you are one step closer to deployment. We don’t have the luxury of time here, folks. You have to learn, and learn fast, or you’re not going to make it.”
She looked at the clock above the door. Class was mercifully over.
“That’s it for today. I know what you want to do with those manuals … but please learn them. You’re of no use to the war effort if you’re dead because you did something stupid out of ignorance. Any questions?”