Chapter 18: The Reward

“I know that you all have questions, but they will have to wait until we are in a more secure location. Too many ears...” I told them, nodding towards the marina. “ ... at least for now. Reggie is sending a team and they will take care of our guest. For the moment, he is alive, if a bit frazzled.”

I saw more than a few expressions of relief at that. Then I climbed the stairs to my cabin and headed for the shower. I wanted nothing more than to wash the stench of the last few hours from my body and my soul. I found myself wondering why I had been selected for this. I sure didn’t feel like I was cut out for it.

The door to the shower opened and Rachel slid in.

“You heard me?” she asked. She knew I had because I had answered her, which she heard. The problem was, I didn’t understand how it had happened. I also didn’t understand how I had transported to where the sniper was so suddenly.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said soothingly. “After all, they said we should practice.”

I smiled at her. “We never got to finish our conversation from earlier,” I reminded her.

“Oh, we will,” she said with a grin. “And that’s not all we didn’t finish!”

We never did finish our conversation, or the other. It had been a long day and night for me and I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Sunday morning I found the bed empty and felt a pang of loneliness. It was amazing how used to having somebody beside me when I woke up had become.

I threw on my clothes (we were still in port) and headed to the galley.

Reggie was there. His team had come and gone with our overnight guest. I sat down with my coffee and a Portuguese pastry and grunted a good morning. Rachel slid into my lap and kissed me, then turned to face Reggie. “I’m Alex’s new girlfriend, Rachel, from Lubbock, Texas.”

Reggie nodded and then raised a single eyebrow at me.

“It’s a long story,” I sighed. Rachel frowned as she dug her fingers into my ribs.

“But a very happy one,” I quickly added. Rachel beamed.

“We found Tellinger. He was dead, in his quarters, apparent suicide. He was just six months out of Dam Neck (Marine Corp Intelligence Training) and assigned to the Marine Corps’ Combat Development Command at Quantico. He was what they call a pool officer, doing basic research for a large group of commanders,” Reggie explained.

“So? A dead end?” I asked.

“Maybe. We’ll see. We’re still looking into it,” he said. “You did that teleportation thing again, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But that’s not all. Rachel and I were able to communicate in our minds,” I told him.

He looked up at me suddenly. “Rachel?”

“You mean they haven’t told you?” I asked. I was referring to the girls.

“I quit trying to keep up with your sex life back before Christmas,” he replied.

“Well, get the girls to fill you in. It’s all too confusing for me,” I told him. “Her name is Rachel Lopez and she has worked for the past two years as an assistant to General Botello. Now, she’s sailing with me for a while.”

Reggie looked around the interior of the Cécile for a moment and said, “Nice boat.”

I just shrugged.

“Cynthiana says that you should have one of the Captains to re-program your radar for incoming,” he added.

“Good idea,” I replied.

Rachel was just looking back and forth at us and our stilted conversation.

“Reggie is the head of the Foundation’s security. They are charged with protecting the family,” I explained. “We’ve worked together before.”

“The Foundation?” Rachel asked.

When I didn’t answer, Reggie finally said, “Rappeneau Bank of Switzerland established the Foundation to see after the Rappeneau family some four hundred years ago. It’s one of the oldest and largest foundations in the history of the world. And we take our job seriously.”

“And you’re part of this family?” she asked.

“I’m scheduled to become the next worldwide leader of the Foundation,” I told her blandly. “Whenever Cynthiana retires.”

“No wonder you can afford such a splendid yacht!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Then you won’t mind if we do a background check on you,” Reggie asked, politely.

Rachel looked from him to me and back to him again. “I can see why that would be important. I guess that I should explain about my parents, then.”

Reggie’s ears perked up, but he didn’t say anything.

“What about your parents, sweetheart?” I asked.

“Back before I was born, my dad was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from the Army for failing to follow orders. He said it was because they wanted him to kill innocent villagers in Afghanistan,” she said. “He and my mom later got married, but they were hassled everywhere they went until finally, they found the commune just south of Lubbock, Texas. They were accepted there and stayed until my youngest sister turned twelve.

“By then, all the young guys and some of the older men in the commune were constantly sniffing around me and my sisters, so I convinced my mom to take us to live with our Abuela (grandmother) in Málaga. I went to college at Universidad de Malaga and majored in Criminal Studies. I graduated two years ago and went to work for General Botello as a researcher. Because I am here on an American passport, my student visa is expiring and I have to go home to change it to a work visa.”

“How old are you?” Reggie asked.

“I’m twenty-one,” she replied.

I just looked at her. “Twenty one? I thought you were like twenty-four or twenty-five. When did you start college?”

“I started when I was seventeen. We were home-schooled in the commune and I was able to start college shortly after we arrived in Spain. I have a two-year degree in criminal justice. That’s all they offer. It’s what they call an Associate’s Degree in the States.”

“You’re twenty-one?” I asked again.

“Yeah. I had hoped to go to Madrid for more studies, but then the offer to work with the Policía Nacional came along and then I was assigned to General Botello’s office and then I became his personal assistant. He tried to get me a work visa, but the American Embassy said I had to return to the States for thirty days before I qualified for one.”