Chapter 20

When I came out again, hair still wet from the shower and the light hurting my eyes, I was surprised to see Dean and Deb playing cards on the table in the suite’s little breakfast nook. The both looked up and I could see them examining me, but I didn’t want to talk just yet. Instead, I ordered room service.

I had a thought when I hung up the phone. If there had been a phone in the room, I probably wouldn’t have come out until my money ran out. They would have either had me committed or they would have come in to find my desiccated corpse, someday in the distant future. That thought, strangely enough, cheered me a bit.

“There have been a half dozen inquiries for you, whilst you were indisposed, Jack.” Dean said in a dreadful British accent. Inquiries? Indisposed? Really?

I turned to gawk at him but his grin was enough to make me roll my eyes. He had won that round. Dean was patting a stack of message slips so I slid into a chair at the table and picked them up. Deb was watching me and, for a moment, I actually wondered why she wasn’t with Cam. She worked for me though, didn’t she?

The messages were from Jake, two from the American Embassy, one from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord Hadley-Nelson and one, oddly enough, that said she was the appointments secretary for his Royal Highness, Prince Harry.

“I don’t suppose you would want to...” I started to say, holding up the slips.

Dean cut me off by laughing at me. The Jerk.

“Take a bullet? Risks of the job. Take a message? Well, it is just polite, but there is nothing in my employment contract that says I have to play social secretary. You can call them up and tell your own lies.”

Deb let out a snort of amusement but, when I looked over at her, she was innocently examining the crown molding, her expression one of indifference.

“Don’t be offended, but you made sure she was going to have security back in Paris or wherever the hell they are going?” I asked Deb, the thought just occurring to me.

She looked like she was going to ignore me and be offended, but blew out a breath instead, rolling her head on her neck like she was working out some tension.

“Since you have been...” she paused, glancing at Dean and grinning, “indisposed, I suppose I should bring you up to speed. Cam left her phone, her iPad, her American Express card, the one for your account, and a mailing address. She will have DGSE protection until the five governments agree that the crisis is over. I am here still because you didn’t fire me when Cam left. Is that your intention now?”

“No! Hell no! You stay. I have a hard-enough time finding people who will put up with me, so you can stay and let Dean finally have a vacation when we get back. He hasn’t taken any real time off in ... hell, since I hired him!”

A knock at the door broke up the discussion before Dean could come up with a suitably scathing and witty retort. Saved by breakfast!

I ate and then sat down at the phone with a cup of coffee. The only reason I didn’t call Jake first was the time difference. It was the middle of the night in Texas. The first call I did return, just because it piqued my interest, was to Prince Harry’s secretary.

“Good morning, my name is Daniel Jackson McCoy. I received a message from a Ms. Marcy Allenton.”

“Mister McCoy, thank you ever so much for returning my call. His Royal Highness asked that I contact you and try to set up a time when you would be available to take a phone call. He assured me that it would only take up a short amount of your time, about five minutes at most.”

Ms. Marcy Allenton sounded slightly offended that Prince Harry should have to ask for anything, much less time from a foreign commoner! He should be able to command my obedience!

“I am at his Royal Highness’s beck and call, Ms. Allenton. Simply tell me where and when.” I said quickly, hoping to head off any ‘Off with his head’ hysterics.

Okay, no, I wasn’t being fair, but she did kind of sound like that.

We set up the call for eleven forty-five this morning, or about an hour and a half from now. They would call me.

Skipping over Lord Hadley-Nelson, amused with the thought that it would not be fitting to speak with a mere Lord before I had a chance to speak with a Prince of the Realm, I called the American Embassy instead.

“Embassy of the Unites States of America, how may I direct your call.”

“This is the embassy switchboard?”

“Yes, sir it is. Do you know the name of the party you wish to speak to?”

“No, no, I must have dialed the wrong number, sorry to have bothered you.” I said, hanging up the phone.

Some idiot from the Embassy calls and leaves a message, but leaves the switchboard number? Yeah, either they are playing games or the person is an idiot and I don’t have the patience for either of those.

The second message had the same name and the same number, so I ignored that one too.

Taa Daa! All done with messages! Now, we just had to wait for His Royal Highness.

Prince Harry, when he called, actually sounded like a nice guy. He started off right, anyway, sounding like anyone else on the phone.

“Jack McCoy? Prince Harry here. I know that sounds awfully snobby, but when I call somewhere, even to get a reservation, and say ‘Henry Windsor’, well, you can imagine that doesn’t really command a lot of respect. Everyone knows Prince Harry, not Henry Charles Albert David Mountbatten-Windsor.”

“Then it is Jack, please, your Highness.” I said, tongue in cheek, but somehow sure he would be okay with it.

“Jack, thanks. Listen, this is going to be odd and you don’t really know me, do you? But I need a favor. See, our government here is not really a monarchy, not a true monarchy, it is a representative monarchy and that means grandmother is head of state, but not head of the government. The head of the government is the prime minister and he has several supporters who are appointed to very powerful and influential posts.” He said quickly, warming to his topic.

“Is one of these posts the Chancellor of the Exchequer?” I asked innocently and got a pause from Prince Harry.

“Ah, so you have gotten his messages then? If it isn’t personal, are you avoiding him for some reason?”

“No, it is not an issue with him at all and I have not been avoiding him. Well, no more than I was avoiding everyone for a couple of days. I had some personal matters to attend to.” I said, lying my ass off.

“Ah. Yes, bad bit that.” he said softly, then paused for a long breath. “Well, look, the favor has to do with calling him back. You see, he really feels he owes you a debt. We, meaning my family, owe him a couple of favors and he has called in that marker. He asked that we intercede on his behalf. What do you say, Jack? Would you call him, set something up?”

“Absolutely. I will return his calls when we are done.” I told him, mentally shrugging. I was probably going to have to deal with the guy anyway so why not get the royals on my side in the bargain?

Prince Harry was properly appreciative and, to be honest, I kind of felt bad for the guy. What kind of life must it be to be raised with all of the weight of tradition already weighing you down before you could walk? Social and government obligations piled on top before you say your first word? From everything I have read, the two princes are surprisingly well adjusted despite the pressure they must feel.

Finishing my coffee, I contemplated another cup, then went to take a leak instead. After washing up, I saw my suit from a couple of days ago still laying on the chair where I tossed it and put it in the bag for the dry cleaner. Then ... then I realized I was stalling and cursed.

“Hadley-Nelson”

I was taken aback when he answered his own phone, I had expected a secretary!

“Sir, my name is Daniel Jackson McCoy and I am returning your calls?”

“Mister McCoy! Outstanding! I am very glad to hear your voice, my boy!”

“I apologize for taking so long to get back to you. I had some very personal business to get through and I was a bit incommunicado, having my security hold all messages until I was done.” I explained without explaining.

“Oh, well, quite all right, my boy! Quite all right. Listen, you are staying at the Goring Hotel, is that right? They have a wonderful dining room and a tea on the terrace that is famous throughout London. What I would like to do is come over and speak to you for a bit. We could meet in the restaurant.”

“That sounds fine, sir. What time would be convenient for you?” I asked, wanting to get this over with.

“I am leaving right this moment, my boy, right this moment!”

The Terrace at the Goring Hotel was nothing like what I expected. The room looked like it had been transplanted from a palace somewhere, with brocaded wallpaper, vaulted ceilings and lighting sconces on the walls that looked as though they should have candles in them, not incandescent bulbs.

The room was a collection of small, intimate settings. Most had four comfortable chairs around a low table, or perhaps a couch with a pair of chairs, all designed to make it seem personal. As though you could have private conversations a midst a crowd.

I had called down ahead of time and, when I walked in, I was shown to a small corner table.

“Lord Hadley-Nelson has not arrived yet, sir, would you like some tea while you wait?”

“No, thank you. I’ll wait for my guest.”

His lordship? My Lord? What was the proper way to address a Lord? Especially when he wasn’t my lord at all, or lord over anything that really matters to me. At least with His Royal Highness, I could fall back on what I had seen on television, but nothing came to mind when dealing with Lords.

My musings were interrupted by a tall, spare man with snow-white hair and a handlebar mustache. He was impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit that looked handmade and, hat in hand, he waited politely as I stood and offered him my hand.

“Good to meet with you finally, Mister McCoy!” he said cheerfully, taking a seat. The waiter was there immediately and, after ordering tea and something light for us to snack on, Hadley-Nelson turned back to me.

“If you are like most Americans I have met, you would prefer to be informal and to ‘cut to the chase‘ as it were.” he said with a grin, as if this were all great fun.

“I am agreeable to that, sir. Excuse me if I don’t get the mode of address correct, I have never spoken to a Lord before.”

“Well, then just call me Chester and I shall call you Jack.” he said with a nod, taking a moment to sip at his tea and smack his lips.

“Okay then, Jack. Cutting to the chase. You did England a great service by rescuing Amelia Palmer from the slavers. You picked up a stow away and rather than running for help, something most people would have considered sufficient, you sailed into danger deliberately and rescued not one, but three other girls. Then, when the girl is back in her homeland, you call in the nick of time and rescue her again, and this time, you save the life of a valued retainer.”

“Jimmy, the driver, is a man whose family has served mine for five generations. We grew up together, went to school together, served in the Army together. He could have retired years ago, a wealthy man, but he stuck around to work for me as his father did before him. Your call allowed my security man to hold them off long enough for Jimmy’s training to save the day and, not inconsequentially, the life of that same young girl and her family!”

“Sir, Chester, look, none of that was done with the thought of any recognition, it was just what needed to be done at the time. I did what I thought needed to be done, nothing more and nothing less.”

“Exactly, my boy, exactly! That deserves, no it requires, that we recognize the qualities that drive a man to do his duty, forsaking all else. Even if you don’t care about accolades for yourself, you should be held up as an example that the youth can strive to emulate!”

He sipped at his tea and took a bite of a small, fruit-topped cookie.

“Jack, I was all set to put your name before the crown to be considered for the award of an honorary Knighthood, as Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire. Honorary, you see, because you are not a citizen of a British commonwealth country.”

He put up his hand to forestall any objections, then continued. “When I learned you were sixteen when the rescue happened and only seventeen when you made that phone call, well, that put the kibosh on that idea. While the queen has handed out honors for much, much less, it is exceedingly unlikely that she would do so for what she would consider a child.”

I just took a sip of my tea, content to see where this was going. No fake knighthood for an American teen? Probably the smartest thing he has said all day.

“Frankly, I am at a loss. We, the British people, owe you a debt of gratitude and yet we find ourselves unable to absolve that debt. My brief investigation of you tells me that you do not need money or land, so you must help me out here, Jack.”

“Chester, there might be one thing. I started a charitable foundation in the United States. It aims to help children like Amelia; children who were abused but that do not have her support system. I don’t know anything about British law, but I would like to see that charitable foundation set up an office here as well. Perhaps you can put my man in the states in touch with someone here who can help guide that effort?”

Lord Hadley-Nelson looked at me like I had two heads, but he nodded “We can do that, but that is hardly the kind of reward we were talking about. It is something I would have done in any case.”

I just shrugged my shoulders. “What do I need? I have money, land, a yacht. Unless you have a handy little gizmo that guarantees happiness, there is little you can give me that I can’t buy for myself. If you feel you have to do something, then a gift to the British arm of the charity when it is up and running would be cool.”

There was something in his eye that I didn’t recognize, though it was familiar. Calculation, maybe? Whatever it was, a quick shake of his head and it was gone, replaced by a smile and a shrug.

“So be it. Well, Jack, should you change your mind or should you ever find yourself in need of anything that I can give, just call me.” He told me sincerely, handing me a business card.

The talk of the charity had my mind going a mile a minute as I watched him leave.

As I headed back to the room, I made mental notes. I had to get Terry to find a new director for the charity, then contact Hadley-Nelson’s office about expanding to the UK. I needed to get Terry to remove her from the corporate structure as well. Maybe I could just put her as inactive, on hiatus or something. She did say that ... no, no I couldn’t dwell on that, not now.

Just those thoughts were enough to make my head hurt and for that yawning chasm in my chest to threaten my sanity again. Here though, my early experiences after Everett Reilly were a lifesaver. I had learned back then to push the pain aside, to compact it and lock it away. If it were hidden, trapped behind steel walls and a locked lid, then I wouldn’t have to deal with it, wouldn’t have to face it until I was ready.

I hadn’t had to use that skill all that much in recent years, but it was like riding a bicycle. Cam was soon in her own little box, back in the corner where Everett once reigned, and I was breathing easier. I didn’t need her, I didn’t need the headaches and heartaches.

Now that she had broken through my walls, shown me what it could be like, well, there was no need to hide that part of me. I was going to be a senior this year and there were a lot of pretty girls at Key West High School.

We left the next morning, taking the long flight back to the states and back to my home in Key West. I had school to register for, clothes to buy. I had to check up on my boats and had to get Terry going on that charity, both here and in the UK. Deb and Dean left me to my own devices, on the plane, and I pretty much stayed in the back where it was quiet and dark so I could sleep. If the blanket provided was a bit damp in the morning, it was of no consequence.

Home! I wandered around the house, the yard and even the Emancipation Key. In the back of my mind, I was looking for something, something that was missing. No matter where I turned, I felt like it would be in the next place I looked, behind that other door, in the bottom drawer, at the top of the closet?

I went out to the E-Squared and checked there as well, but whatever it was that was bugging me wasn’t there either. It wasn’t until I saw the odd looks on Dean and Deb’s faces when they thought I wasn’t looking that I realized what I was looking for wouldn’t be in any of those spots. She was in France.

Her personal belongings were packed and shipped, her local account closed and her personal funds wired to her. We even sold her little Fiat and added those funds. When school started and she hadn’t even called, I cut that last link, burying her as deep as I could, near those memories I still refused to look at, by my family, and closed the box.

I had no idea where I went wrong, what I had done, or not done, to have her cut the links so cleanly, but if I let myself obsess about it, I would go nuts.

Registration time and when I contacted Alan and Debbie, they were both glad to hear I was back in town and we set a time to meet at the school.

Alan had grown about four inches over the summer and packed on some weight! When I pretended to be afraid of him, he flipped me off.

“Don’t make me angry, Jack. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” He managed with a straight face. Debbie was making gagging sounds and I was rolling my eyes, pretending like I was feeling ill too.

“Yeah, okay, Hulkster. Or should that be Hulkenstein, the first Jewish SuperHero?” I joked, dodging a slow punch.

“Debbie, you still with Amy or did you find some new rugs to...” and did not manage to dodge the punch to my shoulder that came before I could finish that question.

“Don’t be such an asshole, Jack.” She said, scowling at me and rubbing her hand. “What do you have under your shirt? Hitting your shoulder was like hitting a brick wall!” she whined.

Bumping and grinding, I stripped my shirt off and flexing as I advanced on Debbie. Her eyes went wide and one hand actually reached up as if she was going to touch me when a voice broke the tableau.

“Gross! Is this what the pathetic locals call flirting?”

I turned to look at a gorgeous redhead with a killer body who was coming around the front of one of those new, retro-esque Mustangs. I immediately gave her my best smile but that lasted only until I saw where her eyes were headed.

She walked up to Debbie who was standing there, frozen in place with a huge smile on her face. She reached out with one finger under Debbie’s chin and pulled the girl in for a kiss that made my knees weak, and I was five feet away!

When they came up for air, Alan was laughing at me and I am sure I looked a sight. The redhead turned to look at him, then turned to me and gave me a once over, from head to foot.

“Eh ... well, if I was some pathetic breeder who was into cavemen, I suppose I might be impressed but, since I’m not, how about you put your shirt on, hotshot?” Her voice was warm but the smile on her face never reached her eyes. The hard, flint look there was as good as a bucket of ice water for me. The momentary fascination I had for her, physically, was quickly washed away by the thought that this girl could be real trouble.

“Tell you what, princess.” I said, standing up straight and stepping closer. “I will dress, or not dress as I like and how I behave with my friends is of little concern to you. Debbie has been a friend for years and if this offended her, she has never been shy of correcting any behavior she found out of bounds.”

She looked surprised, then angry before settling into a practiced sneer of indifference.

“Whatever, pretty boy.” she said dismissively, turning back to Debbie. “Let me know when you are done playing with your brother’s little friend and maybe we can do something tonight.” she told Debbie with a sniff. Spinning on her heel, she stalked off, getting into the Mustang and leaving some rubber behind as she left the parking lot.

“So ... she’s not staying for registration then?” I asked innocently, turning back to Alan and Deb.

Alan just laughed and shook his head. Debbie actually looked amused by the whole thing.

“Dude, that was Cindy. New in town, thinks her shit doesn’t stink and is a man-hating lez.” Alan said, not backing down when Debbie glared at him.

“She has some issues, but she is a really sweet girl underneath. She just doesn’t like guys and especially anyone who is a jock. She probably thought you were some jock who was trying to impress me or something. She’ll calm down.” she said confidently, though she turned to look in the direction that this Cindy had gone, a pensive expression on her face.

“And forgive me if this is insensitive, but Amy?” I asked hesitantly.

Debbie looked down a bit, shrugging. “Her mom got a job in Jacksonville and they moved at the beginning of summer. We still talk, but we both agreed to date other people, have fun our senior year in school. If it is meant to be, we will get together in college since we both got early acceptance to USC San Diego.”

Sarah Markham, a tall, very cute and very smart girl who was also going to be a senior this year, was at the counter when we went inside the school to register for classes. She was pointing to something on her schedule and asking about another time slot.

“If I am going to take the Oceanography AP course at the FKCC campus, I need to have this as an independent study period, otherwise I can’t make it all the way over there for the afternoon class.” she told the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, yeah, I can see where that would be a problem. Tell you what, Sarah, what if I move AP Trig to second period with Ms. Barnes. I know you wanted Mister Pierson, but his class is already full in the morning slot. That would free you up here for independent study like you wanted.”

Sarah appeared to look it over and shrug. “Okay, sounds like it would work. Thanks for being so understanding. I want those Oceanography credits so I can transfer to UM as a sophomore.” she explained, sounding relieved.

Finishing up took her only a minute and, as she turned to leave, she almost ran right in to me.

“Jack! Hi! I heard some rumor that you wouldn’t be back this year!” she said, sounding both surprised and pleased.

“And leave you to face Ms. Barnes alone? Perish the thought.” I told her with a wink, getting a blushing smile in return.

“My mom is waiting outside and this already took longer than I thought it would.” she said apologetically, then tore the corner off her new schedule and jotting something down on the scrap. Handing it to me, she whispered, “Call me?” and practically ran out the door.

Debbie was laughing and Alan just let out a big sigh as I grinned and stuck the paper in my pocket. This might be a good year.

Registration was painless and I was a senior! Yes! Last year of high school and I wanted it to be a good one.

I called Sarah that night and we talked for a while. I was surprised to find that she had wanted to date me last year but I had been with “that French knockout”. She said she was sorry that it had not worked out, but she didn’t actually sound all that sorry.

As for her, she had dated a couple of guys last year, but no one steady. We agreed to get together on Sunday, just get a soda or something and talk, get to know one another.

School was ... school. I guess I expected something more since it was my senior year. I suppose that if I had been more involved, played sports or been involved in extra-curricular activities, it might have been more exciting.

The only topic on everyone’s mind, all the seniors anyway and half the juniors, was college! Who was going where, what was being studied, what schools were serious ones and which were party schools.

Debbie had stopped annoying me about dating, I had been going out a bit with Sarah, though it hadn’t gotten serious. Instead, she turned her annoying attention to my choice of college. I strung her along until right before the Christmas break before I told her.

“I am going to the University of Texas in Austin. The campus there is awesome.” I told her.

“Austin? Texas? What made you choose there? When did you visit? How...”

I cut her off or she would go on for an hour and I would never get a word in.

“I moved here from Texas, remember? I visited the campus when I was fifteen or sixteen and decided I was going there, come hell or high water. Still want to go there.”

“But what about a scholarship? Are your grades good enough? You said you hadn’t even applied yet, how will you get in?” She persisted.

Ooops. Um, maybe I said too much?

I took a chance, since Sarah was actually out sick that day and it was just Alan, Pam, Debbie and, Cindy at the table.

“Do you know who Jake Reilly is? Texas businessman? He’s a UT alumnus and he said he would get me in.”

“Jake Reilly. The billionaire. The third richest man in the United States after Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos, at least according to Forbes, that Jake Reilly?”

I just nodded, enjoying the shock on Debbie’s face. The smirk on Cindy’s face was annoying, but I didn’t really care what she thought. Pam’s face was serene though, almost as if she knew something the others didn’t.

“And you know Jake Reilly how?” Debbie was scowling now, but on her it was because she didn’t know something. This was really juicy and no one, I mean no one kept juicy gossip from her!

“Debbie, why do you think I never brought this up? You can’t keep a secret to save your life.” I said, shaking my head. She actually looked hurt for a moment, but the blush told me that she knew I was right.

“Fine, jerk. Be that way.” she grumped but stopped with the questions for now.

Debbie was a bit cold for a while, at least towards me, but she eventually slipped back into what was normal for us and we were able to relax. Alan, on the other hand, made me realize that I hadn’t given him enough credit.

He caught up to me after school that day, Debbie having caught a ride with Cindy. He and Pam were waiting out by my car when I came out of my last class.

“Jack, invite us over to talk for a bit.” Alan came right out and asked, not even beating around the bush.

I just raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Alan and Pam, then shrugged. “Sure, why don’t you two come over for a bit?” I asked rhetorically, then grinned at him.

Once we got to the house, I got them both sodas and we grabbed a seat in the living room. Dean was in the garage, doing something with his Harley, so it was just the three of us.

“Jack, you know I am a geek, no big surprise, but this gorgeous woman next to me makes me look like a grandpa who can’t stop his DVR from flashing 12:00. She is relentless too, able to ferret out an amazing amount of data from public archives all over the place.” Alan said, pausing to take a sip of his soda.

Beside him, Pam was watching me, that same serene smile on her face. Her eyes though, looked a bit ... wary? Concerned?

Hell, I am sure mine did too. I had a bad feeling about this.

“Okay. So, Pam is a ghost in the machine. And you are telling me this, why?” I asked slowly, knowing the answer but still hoping I was wrong.

Alan looked over at Pam, obviously waiting for her to continue.

“I didn’t do this out of any desire to invade your privacy, Jack, honest. Alan looks up to you and I think you are a really great guy, but you were always a bit of a mystery to everyone. I hate mysteries. So, I started looking around, checking things out. If I ask you some straight questions, will you give me straight answers?”

I just nodded my head.

“You are Daniel Jackson McCoy, the boy they pulled out of Everett Carson Reilly’s dungeon?” She asked quietly, her eyes on mine.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

She nodded too, as if expecting that answer.

“And you are an emancipated minor. The man who lives here with you is not your uncle, he is what, exactly? A bodyguard, right? His records are not as easily available, so I didn’t push.”

“Yes, and yes. Dean is my head of security.” I said, glancing over to watch Alan’s reaction. He was remarkably unfazed by this so I assume that Pam had already told him everything she had found.

“Though the settlement with the estate of Everett Reilly was not sealed by the court, it was redacted heavily to protect the identities of the various minor children involved. Your name was mentioned eleven times, though just the pseudonym of “Male child named Danny” was used. I assume that you got a nice bit of money from that, and it explains the house, the boats, the vehicles, the McCoy Trust and the security. I guess my question now is, why? Why all the secrecy? Why the lies and the cloak and dagger stuff?”