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Lee Stetson dropped his duffle bag onto the sidewalk and scanned the crowded arrival area for a familiar face. He brushed his long, brown hair from his eyes as he sighed with impatience.
"Lee!"
He turned, already smiling as his cousin bounded up to him. Murphy Michaels, much Lee's same height and build, was virtually unchanged since they had seen each other during winter break, only months ago.
"Well it's about time, Murph," he quipped and tossed the duffle bag at his cousin.
Murphy easily caught the bag and slapped Lee on the back.
"What do you expect with all this traffic? You should know better than to come into LAX on Memorial weekend."
Lee shrugged nonchalantly. Any casual observer could see the two college-aged men were in some way related. Brownish-blond hair; the distinctive jaw, the classic good looks which enhanced the impression of strength of character, were hereditary traits to both young men.
"I could have missed you completely," Murphy commented as he eyed Lee's faded jeans and tie-dyed tee shirt. He flicked a hand past Lee's long, straight hair. "Into flower power now?"
"No," Lee countered in a too-quick defense not lost upon his astute cousin. "I like it this way. I'm not as conservative as some people," he jibed and tugged at the collar of Murphy's sport shirt.
Murphy silently accepted the explanation with a nod. He led the way as they laced their way through the bumper to bumper traffic. Instead of any comments, he opted for some covert observation over conversation. Cars crawled from the airport to the San Diego Freeway and Murphy had a great deal of time to study his unusually quiet cousin.
They had not seen each other since Christmas vacation. Their grandparents had invited all the grandchildren to visit for the holidays at the ranch in New Mexico. It had been a wonderful reunion for cousins and grandparents who never saw enough of each other.
The grandchildren were separated by school, the service and maturity. Adulthood brought individual responsibilities and less time for the closeness of the past.
At that Christmas reunion he had detected a tension in Lee. Always close, Murphy was perhaps more aware of Lee's inner turmoil than the other relatives but Lee had not talked of his troubles during the holiday retreat. Now, Murphy was determined to root out the problem.
Lee flipped radio stations while he skipped from one inconsequential subject to another. His search stopped when he heard the strains of 'Do You Want to Know a Secret?'. He leaned back and tapped the roof.
"You live in California, Murph. You need a convertible."
"USC isn't exactly cheap! I can hardly afford gas money, Lee, let alone a sports car."
Lee shrugged and gazed out the window. "We're meeting the Colonel for lunch."
Murphy could detect the tension in his tone, but kept his own voice casual. "I didn't know he was stationed in California now."
"Edwards," was the laconic response. With a heartfelt sigh Lee glanced across at his cousin. "I'm not on vacation. I was kicked out of Berkeley."
Murphy winced despite his best efforts to keep a neutral expression. University of Maryland last year, Berkeley this year--he wondered how many colleges Lee could go through before graduation. More pertinent, how many would Colonel Stetson put up with.
"I have to tell the Colonel over lunch," Lee confessed nervously. He finally glanced over to his cousin. "You can just drop me off. That'll give you plenty of time to clear the area before the bomb drops. You might miss most of the fall out then."
Murphy had only met the Colonel a few times. The Air Force Officer was rather mysterious; the man who came and went--dropping Lee off or picking him up from the New Mexico ranch. The elder Stetson was almost a kind of faceless, specter; exuding an air of authority on the level of a Caesar. He was a man who inspired almost equal doses of fear and reluctant respect. Though that was a perception gleaned from Lee's point of view of the Colonel, it was the way the Michaels cousins had always thought of Lee's guardian.
"That's okay, I haven't eaten yet," Murphy responded casually even though he knew both of them had lost their appetites.
"The second of two in a row from the Beatles. Here's 'Let it Be'.
"Damn," Lee muttered as McCartney's melancholy voice filled the car. "The whole world has gone to hell since the Beatles broke up," he acidly observed.
The philosophical statement was a comment on the injustices of life, a metaphor of disillusionment in a confusing world by an equally confused Lee Stetson. Murphy had enough sense to know when to remain tactfully silent. Especially when Lee had already said it all.
The clock in the waiting area showed five minutes past the hour. Punctual to a fault, Lee knew Colonel Stetson would already be at a table. He gave his name to a waiter and, as expected, he and Murphy were immediately escorted to where the Colonel waited. Displaying the unswerving loyalty and valiance notable in the Michaels clan, Murphy had volunteered for this hazardous mission. It was an act of bravery Lee was grateful to receive. Even with companionship, this meeting would be a disaster.
Ever since Lee's parents had died, Colonel Stetson had been Lee's guardian. Lee had been raised like a recruit under the Colonel's command. Discipline, respect for authority, and rigid standards were the codes of conduct. Compassion and understanding had somehow fallen through the cracks between strict regulations.
Thus, Lee found himself now feeling as daunted by the Colonel as he had felt when he was a child. At nineteen Lee considered himself an adult. Yet, he was still as intimidated by his uncle as he had been as a nine year old. Today, this insecurity was exacerbated by Lee's self-conscious doubts about his appearance. He had adopted the long hair and ratty clothes during his tenure at Berkeley.
The new "look" was Lee's statement of allegiance to his generation. More importantly, the style was as far away as possible from the rigid dress standards of his military-esque upbringing. It was a mild form of rebellion and it made Lee nervously defiant.
Like most of his peers, Lee found young adulthood confusing and difficult. Torn between tradition and independence; establishment and youth, he was uncertain where he fit into the scheme of the world. His innate patriotism battled with the logical anti-war protests of his friends. Natural conservatism warred with the liberal attitudes of free speech and free love.
The rest of the world was unraveling around him (if the Beatles couldn't stay together was there any hope for anyone?). Almost as a microcosmic representation, he and the Colonel were at the center of the whirlpool of discord. Lee wondered if he and his uncle could ever establish more of a relationship than just cool acceptance. He sighed with resignation. There seemed little chance of reaching any kind of understanding now that civil war was about to break out between them.
The Colonel was at a table near a window of the modest Westwood restaurant. When he saw the two college students approach, he stood.
"Hello, Lee," he greeted in a neutral tone as they shook hands. With silent disapproval his sharp eyes evaluated the "hippie" look.
The Colonel was a subtle man. Because of the tangible authority in his demeanor, he never found it necessary to raise his voice, resort to violence or repeat an order. The disappointment in his brown eyes was a more eloquent rebuff than any verbal statement.
As always, Lee was caught in an emotion somewhere between belligerence and intimidation.
"Murphy," was the Colonel's reserved welcome as he offered a handshake to the younger boy.
For several minutes they settled into the impersonal routine of ordering lunch. Conversation was confined to the DMZ of selections on the menu.
"Their prime rib is very good," Colonel Stetson advised casually. There was no attempt to make it an order. "Don't mind the price. I asked you boys to lunch, I'll pick up the tab," he generously offered.
Lee concealed the surprise he felt. The Colonel was being most congenial. While his uncle was ordering, Lee took the time to study the man. There seemed more gray hair at his temples. Tension lines creased his well-tanned face; a face that seemed to have aged more in the last year than Lee expected. An indefinable stress hovered around the officer.
The Colonel was nothing if not the consummate example of strength and control. There was never a hint of mortal weakness in the man. For the first time he could recall, Lee read anxiety in his uncle. Instinctively, Lee sensed something was very amiss.
Lee sipped some water as the waiter collected the menus and left. A chance glance toward the entrance afforded Lee with the presence of an unexpected but familiar face and he nearly sprayed the Colonel with a mouthful of water. He barely managed to gulp it down as he pointed to the two men approaching the table. Colonel Stetson turned, surprise quickly replaced by a smile.
"Robert!" The Colonel stood and shook hands with the sturdy, brown haired man.
Though Lee had been a young boy when he had last seen this man, he knew he could never forget Robert McCall. Lee's memories of his unforgettable first summer at the New Mexico ranch revolved around McCall. Like a larger-than-life hero, McCall had made a tremendous impact on an impressionable ten year old. McCall had been an old friend of Lee's parents and Lee treasured the stories McCall had related. McCall had been a literal hero, saving the lives of Lee and three of his cousins. The refined Englishman's place in Lee's heart was a large and permanent monument.
There had been little contact between them since that distant summer. Lee wrote to McCall regularly but knew Robert was very busy and couldn't reply often. There were occasional post cards from exotic locations around the world when McCall had the chance to write. There had been a few birthday and Christmas cards but most of those had been sent by Kay, McCall's wife and Lee's cousin. The frequency of communication was immaterial in cases of hero worship. McCall would never topple from the pedestal Lee had made for him.
"Charles, good to see you," McCall warmly greeted the Colonel. He looked fondly at Lee, though his rhetorical question was apparently for the Colonel. "Don't tell me this is Lee."
Lee was already on his feet. "Yes, sir."
McCall affectionately shook hands with the young man. "You look very well, Lee. I don't think I would have recognized you if you weren't with your uncle." His British relative-in-law spoke with ever-precise articulation. His low, smooth voice was light and casual, yet still held an underlying authority. McCall fondly studied Lee as if his eyes were photographing every detail.
'A trained observer' Lee categorized. McCall never seemed to just look at anything. He studied, analyzed, scrutinized, and evaluated. Just as Lee had concluded ten years before, McCall never did or said anything casually or by chance. So what was he doing here?
McCall's gaze transferred to Murphy. After a moment of study he accurately identified the other Michaels cousin. Then McCall motioned for his companion who had remained in the background.
"This is a -- friend, Peter Murphy," McCall introduced.
Lee wondered at the hesitation over the label 'friend'. The Colonel seemed to understand some underlying message in the amenities. His greeting to Mr. Murphy was brisk and no-nonsense.
"I take it this is business, Robert," the Colonel said as he returned his attention to the Englishman.
"Sorry to intrude, but yes it is."
"You're needed back at Edwards," Peter Murphy stated in curt explanation. "We'll brief you on the way."
There was a subliminal urgency in his voice which was amplified by the intense expression on his face. The Colonel and McCall shared Peter Murphy's controlled tension. The three men understood some unspoken message they would not voice.
For years Lee had accepted the secret nature of his uncle's duties without question. Most of what the Colonel did was top secret. Lee had never been told any details, nor had he asked. Without knowing why, Lee felt this time there was some kind of trouble surrounding his uncle.
"Sorry to spoil your lunch," McCall apologized.
Peter Murphy placed two twenty dollar bills on the table. "Our apologies, gentlemen, but we must take the Colonel with us."
Lee was too startled to reply. He glanced helplessly at Murphy who shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of confusion.
The Colonel placed a hand on Lee's shoulder. "Ah, take care, Lee," he said with uncharacteristic hesitancy as he squeezed his nephew's shoulder.
Lee had never seen the Colonel as -- nervous -- as this. His uncle's reaction rocked Lee more than any other aspect of the encounter.
"But Colonel..."
"I'll talk to you soon," the officer interrupted as he walked away with his escort.
McCall put a hand on Lee's arm. "Don't worry, Lee. We'll be in touch," he commented quietly and joined the other two men.
"Whew," Murphy exclaimed in a cross between a whistle and a sigh.
"What am I not supposed to worry about?" Lee asked quietly.
"I don't know. But if I thought it was possible, I'd say your uncle is in some kind of trouble."
Inexperienced with seeing Colonel Stetson at a disadvantage, Lee shared his cousin's theory. Lee was well versed in many of the faces of misadventure and this situation looked like major league trouble.
"Come on," he said and impulsively grabbed Murphy's arm. They rushed through the restaurant.
"What . . .?"
"We're going with them."
Murphy offered token resistance, though he knew it was useless in the face of his cousin's reckless impetuousness. "Lee, this is government business. Not ours."
Lee didn't bother to reply as they pushed through the doors. They ran along the sidewalk until they caught up with the three men, who stopped when they spotted the boys.
"We're going with you," Lee stated bluntly as he tried to catch his breath.
"No," McCall and Peter Murphy objected in unison.
"This is Air Force business, Lee," Colonel Stetson countered. Rarely in a position to have to explain much, he didn't elaborate.
Lee's resolve faltered under such adamant and unanimous opposition. "I wanted to spend some time with my uncle," he stated in a reasonable tone.
"That's not possible, Lee," the Colonel replied crisply. "I have business to conduct. I'm sorry. I'd hoped to spend some time with you this trip as well."
Mr. Murphy and McCall exchanged glances. Without a word, Peter escorted the Colonel away while McCall put a restraining hand on Lee's arm.
"Some other time ..."
"He's in trouble, isn't he?" Lee asked in concern as he watched the Colonel and Peter Murphy disappear into a parking structure.
A denial was on McCall's tongue but he never delivered it. He had always been fond of the spunky, young Stetson. One of his personal mottos was to never patronize someone he liked.
"There are some problems with his project, yes," McCall replied honestly. "But the best way to help is to follow his instructions."
One of the reasons Lee had always loved McCall was that McCall treated him with respect. Though Lee was only a child when they had first met, they had somehow understood each other. Lee knew they still did. Elaborate excuses would not sway McCall. Only honestly would count here. Lee was surprised to find what his emotions told him.
"I can't leave him when he needs me the most," Lee explained quietly.
McCall released a long sigh of defeat. He had no argument that could combat such untarnished loyalty. Nor did he have the heart to shatter the delicate devotion which had grown between uncle and nephew. McCall felt great affection for both Stetsons. He knew how precarious their relationship was and wanted it to progress. Though Lee and Charles both cared for each other, they were too reserved, proud, distrusting or stubborn to admit it.
The parallel to his own problems in relationships was not lost on McCall. He had insulated himself against closeness to others just as Lee and the Colonel had done. That reserve -- that distance -- was necessary in McCall's profession, and had destroyed his marriage. McCall didn't want to see that happen to the Stetsons.
The government agent looked at Murphy. "I suppose we must include you as well?"
"I'm with him." Murphy nodded toward Lee.
McCall sighed again. "Very well. Bring your car around and follow us to the airport. We have a plane waiting."
McCall turned and walked toward the parking structure. Lee and Murphy exchanged surprised glances.
"That seemed too easy," Murphy concluded with suspicion.
Lee's face creased with uncertainty. "Yeah. But let's not lose the opportunity. Let's get the car."
Murphy ran down the sidewalk beside his cousin. He wondered what Lee had gotten them into this time and decided it was better not to tempt fate by thinking about it too much.
"I don't like this, Robert."
McCall's mouth twitched with amusement. "I know, Peter."
Peter Murphy sighed with irritation and leaned closer to his companion. "And you still insist on breaking the rules," he accused quietly.
McCall adjusted the seat and removed the seat belt to settle into a more comfortable position. They were in the forward seats of a private jet. A comfortable executive commuter-type plane, the jet was at their disposal for the duration of the operation. In less than thirty minutes they would be at Edwards Air Force Base, where their investigation would begin.
McCall did not respond to his friend's accusation. They had engaged in this argument too many times in the past for either to take the debate seriously. Peter resisted McCall's wildcard style while McCall opposed Peter's regimentation. Yet both managed to successfully complete assignments and even more unusual, they remained fast friends.
Technically both McCall and Peter were independent operatives. However, necessity occasionally demanded agents work together. Peter held seniority over most North American operatives and more often than not chose his old friend McCall when he required assistance.
"You don't think he's guilty."
"I'm willing to extend him the benefit of the doubt," McCall corrected.
Peter moved on to the real issue of contention. "You know how I feel about involving civilians," he persisted, unwilling to let McCall get away with this ploy without a good deal of protest.
McCall studied his friend. He momentarily regretted his rash decision to include Lee and Murphy, only because he knew what memories it would dredge up for his friend.
Peter had spent five years on an operation in Europe. Because of an unusual chain of circumstances, he had been forced to assume the identity of Mark Wainwright, an international millionaire. Wainwright had been killed when he was mistaken for the spy, Peter Murphy and the switch had seemed natural; an advantageous maneuver. Having the cover of a millionaire had been an irresistible opportunity. Unfortunately there were unforseen complications. Peter had broken the cardinal rule of espionage -- emotional involvement. He had fallen in love with the real Mrs. Wainwright -- a civilian and had allowed her to help him with his assignments. When she had been tragically killed a few years ago, Peter had folded the operation and come back to the States.
McCall sympathized. He had lost innocent friends in the dangerous games they played. Sometimes the losses were unavoidable. Just as the emotional tangles were also unavoidable.
In this case, bringing Lee and Murphy along had been for the benefit of the young men. Nothing would be gained by excluding them from the operation. Once they knew Charles Stetson was in trouble they would include themselves with or without permission. McCall had learned about the Michaels stubbornness the first time he had met these boys.
That unforgettable summer at the ranch the boys had forged characteristics they would hold for life. To the impulsive boys danger seemed inconsequential in comparison to justice. Though many years had passed since then, Lee and Murphy still held those strong convictions.
McCall was savvy enough to know when to let random elements work in his favor. It made more sense for Lee and Murphy to work for them than against them. On a personal level, he wanted to spend time with both the young men. There was no telling when he would see them again so he wanted to make the best of this opportunity.
McCall had been so proud of the boys that long ago summer, especially Lee. The baby he had once bounced on his knee had shown incredible bravery as a ten year old battling rustlers. As a young man, Lee still possessed those latent strengths. McCall hoped, in some small way, he had been a positive influence on Lee. For the sake of the late Stetsons, McCall wanted to be there for Lee now, when he needed help.
"I'll be responsible for them, Peter," McCall responded with maddening tranquility.
"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Peter quipped sourly. "I'm responsible for you!"
Convinced there was no other way to stop the complaints, McCall rose and motioned toward the three men at the back of the compartment.
"I think it's time to explain the situation to them. Would you accept the honor? It is your operation."
"In name only," Peter said dryly. "I seem to be in control of very little at this point."
"Tsk, tsk. Self pity does not become you, Control," McCall countered in a tone tinged with ruefulness.
Colonel Stetson pulled his eyes away from the window as McCall and Peter joined the group.
"Are you going to explain what this is all about?" Stetson inquired as he levelly studied his two hosts.
Peter acknowledged with a curt nod. "You understand this is a classified operation," he warned as he glared sternly at Lee and Murphy.
"Yes, sir," Lee nodded.
"Of course, Mr. Murphy," Murphy responded instantly.
McCall's mouth twitched with a suppressed grin. "It seems to me we have a few too many Murphys." He glanced from Peter to Murphy. "Mr. Murphy has earned the label of 'Control', around the office. I think that is an appropriate title."
"A misnomer in this case," Control said in a wry aside to his colleague. With a delivery honed of innumerable briefings, Control succinctly presented the scenario. Because of the top secret nature of the project, he generalized the situation.
Colonel Stetson was Air Force liaison for a classified project at Edwards. Foreign information brokers had informed the Agency that certain secrets from the project were available on the international market. Though the domestic security was under the direction of the FBI, because of the international scope of the leak the Agency had been called in. McCall was the specific choice for the assignment since he and Colonel Stetson had worked together in the past.
"Naturally you are on the suspect list," Control told the Colonel. "But Robert has vouched for your integrity." Control glanced at his colleague with an expression indicating the character reference was taken with a grain of salt. "However, we will proceed on the assumption you are innocent, and will include you in the operation to stop the leak."
The Colonel accepted the situation with professional calm. A man who understood duty above all things, he accepted his key position on the suspect list. He knew he was innocent and justice would exonerate him. However, professional training could not cover the anger that was building within. His project had been compromised. How damaging would the breach of security be to the project? Even if the leaked information was on a low security level, this failure would be entered on his, previously unblemished record. The Colonel was determined to stop the leak, whatever the risks. His career was at stake, and to Charles Stetson, his career was his life.
"I hate stake-outs."
"How could I forget?" McCall replied sarcastically. "You remind me every time we are involved in one." He glanced at his companion to gauge the effect his next comment would have on the irritated agent. "And this is not a stake-out."
Control sighed and looked disdainfully at the Brit. "And you are always too literal on -- assignments that are the same as stake-outs!"
The American returned his attention to the park across the street. Colonel Stetson was seated on a bench, waiting for a man who was suspected to be a foreign agent named Manet.
The cover story invented for Lee and Murphy had worked perfectly. Supposedly heavily in debt to loan sharks, the two boys came to Colonel Stetson for money, which the Colonel did not have. Within a few days, Manet had contacted the Colonel and proposed a 'meet' to discuss terms of a 'loan'.
The scenario was a standard ploy of agents around the world. Find the weakness of key people, then blackmail the personnel in trade for secrets. If events went as planned Manet would show himself, offer a trade, and McCall and Control would nab him.
McCall's eyes nervously darted around the area. The park was a small oasis of green amid the scraggly brush and dirt of the Mojave Desert which surrounded them. The picnic/park area was a good spot; vast open areas which made surveillance a challenge. McCall and Control were in their car, parked for advantageous viewing from the park bench to the row of trees along the park sidewalk where Lee and Murphy were concealed. The young men had included themselves in the operation, much to the dismay of McCall, Control and the Colonel. They would not be put off, and the experienced agents found it easier to comply with the demands rather than risk unauthorized interference.
McCall was just beginning to realize the challenges of raising a headstrong teenager. He did not look forward to facing those years with his own son, Scott.
"There," Control nodded toward a car which had parked at the curb near the Colonel's location.
A tall, slender man with light hair exited the car and strolled toward the bench.
"Manet?"
Colonel shrugged. "I think so. I haven't seen him since the end of the war."
The Colonel did not look up from his newspaper when the man sat at the other end of the bench.
"Colonel Stetson, I presume?" The quiet question was asked in a subtly accented voice.
"Yes," the Colonel replied as he folded the newspaper. "You're the man who called about my nephew's debts."
Manet inclined his head in acknowledgment. "And you have spoken to no one of our meeting?"
The Colonel knew the phones at work and home had been tapped by Manet, then double-tapped by Control. Manet had also had the Colonel under covert surveillance for the past two days. Manet seemingly did not know of the spy/counter-spy trap that had been set. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
"No," the Colonel answered. "It's not something I would want to get around."
"Very well, Colonel. I suggest we go somewhere to discuss this privately."
McCall has suspected this would be suggested. The Colonel was under strict orders not to go with the foreign agent. Once out of the tight surveillance net, he could not be protected. Control had stressed Manet was one of the most cunning and ruthless of agents. McCall and Control had placed a 'bug' on the Colonel, because they could not risk being too close. The Colonel was bait for a trap, and the hunters had to keep their distance or run the risk of scaring away their prey.
"I prefer a public meeting," was the Colonel's firm response.
"That is not my method, Colonel," Manet snapped icily. "You will come with me." The agent deftly slipped a small pistol from his pocket. "My insurance. Come with me quietly."
"Something's wrong," Control needlessly stated. He and McCall had recognized the danger when Manet's tone had hardened.
"He's holding a pistol on Charles." McCall said with certainty. He knew the weapon was there without seeing it.
They watched as Manet took the Colonel's arm and led the officer to the car.
"We've got to stop him."
Control put a restraining hand on McCall's shoulder. "If we make a move he'll kill Colonel Stetson."
Before McCall could offer a rebuttal the decision was taken from his hands.
From out of nowhere, Lee and Murphy tackled Manet and the Colonel. Seconds later Control and McCall were running to join the melee'. Before the agents could level pistols, Manet gained the advantage.
The foreign agent struggled to his feet with Lee as a shield. A small automatic was pressed under the young man's chin.
"Don't move or he's dead!"
Manet warily backed to the car with his prisoner. "That's you isn't it, McCall? And Peter? Like old times, isn't it gentlemen? I rather suspected it was you on my tail, but I had to be sure."
Control's impassive face never reflected the anger washing over him. Manet had
been one step ahead of him through the whole operation. Knowing he could not escape without notice, Manet had walked into the trap to gain a hostage. In scant seconds Control weighed the depressingly meager options available.
There was little chance McCall or he could successfully strike a head shot at Manet. The spy was too close to Lee. Peter cast a sideways glance at McCall to read his friend's signals. A barely discernable shake of the head indicated McCall agreed they could not risk shooting yet. But to let young Lee go with Manet was tantamount to murder.
"Let him go, Manet," Control negotiated, though there was no chance of success. "You're against the wall."
"Not yet, Peter." Manet laughed mirthlessly. "He will be my insurance out of the country." The spy stopped when he bumped into the car.
Colonel Stetson cautiously stepped forward. "Then take me instead. I'm a more valuable hostage."
Lee tried to shake his head to dissuade his uncle, but Manet's grip was too tight.
"No, Colonel, your nephew will do just fine."
Manet stepped sideways toward the door of the car. The Colonel bodily blocked the path. "I won't let you take him!"
"I can kill you as easily as I can your nephew."
The Colonel stood his ground.
Lee felt Manet tense just before the pistol was aimed at his uncle. A fraction of a second was all he had to react before Manet pressed the trigger. Lee shifted his weight against Manet's arm just as the automatic fired and two other shots exploded almost simultaneously. The momentum pushed Manet and Lee across the hood of the car and to the ground. It wasn't until Lee slammed onto the pavement he noticed the sticky warmth of blood on his face and chest.
He was helped up by four anxious men. Before he could balance on his own feet, the Colonel was supportively hugging him.
"Are you hurt, Lee?"
"No," Lee managed to assess after a moment, overcoming his disorientation. He realized the blood was not from any wounds to himself.
"What happened?"
"We killed him."
The bitterness was evident in McCall's tone as he stared at the blood covered corpse in the street.
"You all right?" Control asked worriedly.
"Yeah," Lee nodded, though was grateful for his uncle's support. His knees felt uncontrollably shaky.
"Well you don't look okay," Murphy observed as he watched his trembling cousin.
"Let's get you home," the Colonel suggested. "I think you could use some R and R."
Control assured them he and McCall could deal with the local authorities. The Stetsons were free to go home. Murphy opted to remain with Control and McCall, ostensibly stating he wanted to watch the professionals at work.
"They could use some time alone," young Michaels explained after the Colonel and Lee had driven away.
"And I thought we had a young recruit," Control countered with a serious tone. He winked at McCall.
The Englishman emerged from his sober introspection. He could not afford to mourn every enemy agent he had killed in his career. Pushing away the regret, he joined Control's teasing conspiracy.
"Yes," he said as he patted Murphy on the back. "I thought we had a budding agent here."
Murphy uncomfortably glanced from one man to the other. "Uh -- thanks. I think. But this isn't exactly what I had in mind to do with my life."
"A shame," Robert shook his head in mock disappointment. "The way you tackled Manet -- you really showed promise, young man."
"Really?" Murphy asked with surprise.
Control scowled, realizing their little joke had gone too far. He had sudden visions of young Michaels knocking on his door for a job. "Robert!"
When Lee was finished cleaning up he found his uncle waiting in the living room. The Colonel stood and solicitously indicated a spot on the couch for his nephew.
"Have a seat. Are you all right?"
"Fine," Lee nodded a bit nervously.
"Can I get you anything?"
"No, sir. I'm fine." He sat on the couch and finished towel-drying his hair.
There was a still silence between them. The last few days had been a rush of hastily constructed plans and plots; role-playing parts that suspended their real lives for a time. Now reality had returned. Nothing was left to push out the uncomfortable moments between the disparate relatives. No more buffers and distraction remained.
Colonel Stetson cleared his throat. "I -- uh -- what you did today was very brave, Lee."
"It was nothing --"
"Yes it was!" The Colonel corrected automatically. He nervously coughed and softened his tone. "You put your life on the line for me. I just wanted -- well, thanks."
"You're welcome, sir," Lee countered automatically.
He stood and walked to the window. There were important things they had to say to each other -- things Lee felt but had no way to express. He had panicked when Manet seemed about to shoot his uncle. As much as they didn't get along, he and the Colonel were family. His uncle, in his own way, cared about him, though so often could not show it. At least Lee hoped he cared. In that moment when it seemed he would be robbed of his uncle, Lee realized just how much he loved the Colonel.
"What you did, sir," Lee said, still facing the window. "You offered your life for mine."
"Yes, well -- it was my duty, Lee," the Colonel explained in clipped words. "I -- didn't want to see you hurt."
Lee continued to stare out the window and the bland desert landscape. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the Colonel didn't really care about him at all.
"I'm just glad it all worked out for the best," the Colonel continued.
Lee's response was unenthusiastic. "Yes, sir."
"Especially since you and I will have the chance to spend some time together."
Lee turned away from the window. "What do you mean?"
Colonel Stetson picked up an envelope and waved it in the air. "A little note from the Dean at Berkeley. Apparently you'll have a lot of time to decide what you want to do
with your life."
Lee was frozen to the spot. He was numb with shock; how long had his uncle known, why was the Colonel taking this so lightly?
"You know -- ?"
The Colonel ripped the paper in half and tossed the contents onto the coffee table. "You can stay with me until you come to a course of action," the Colonel said with a very matter-of-factly tone. "Take your time. This is the first chance we've had to visit for some time."
The voice had lost very little of its flint-like sharpness, but Lee recognized a softening in his uncle's eyes. Perhaps this was the only way the Colonel could say he cared. It sure beat the lectures he had endured for the last expulsion.
"Now, let me fix you a drink. I think you deserve one, Lee."
The Colonel went to the kitchen. Lee was too dumbfounded to comment. Had the Colonel changed that much --?
"Maybe while you're here you can get a haircut," the officer called from the kitchen.
Lee smiled. Things hadn't changed too much -- but they had changed! Perhaps there was hope for the world after all -- his world.