Chapter 6: A Kindred Soul Encountered

January, 1994

I got to watch Mickey and her family hug Eoin later that day. They were all in the lobby again, having returned from lunch to say their good-byes before heading off to the airport and New York. I sat off to one side behind a conveniently placed plant, gazing at my best friend and my cousin as they smiled and laughed, probably making plans for June. I was too far away to heard the low-voiced conversation until I heard Janine's mother say rather loudly, "And remember, Sir Eoin, Lord Spencer, I expect to meet this brilliant but seemingly ever-busy niece of yours in Oneida this summer. Excuses will not do and school should be out by then, no matter what side of the ocean she is on then."

Eoin bowed floridly, replying with just the right touch of obsequiousness, "As my Lady commands, so it shall be!"

Lillian laughed her silvery laugh, drawing admiring looks from around the lobby and hugging Eoin again. She planted a scorching kiss on his lips that left him slightly dazed. "It had better be," she said with a sultriness that made me remember that not marrying her was not Eoin's idea. Plainly they still had chemistry. Then I remembered that my stolen identity came from the reason they did not get married. Eoin wound up with William's mom as a way to repair the damage his brother caused by running away to Australia. "Now we have to go before Mickey burns down the Watergate with that blush and we completely embarrass Janine."

Eoin laughed unsteadily and waved as they strode from the lobby. He inhaled deeply and then his eyes narrowed and he looked around the lobby, spotting the sooo-not-hiding Edgar and John. Then his eyes glared at my camouflage. Stalking over, he parted the fronds of the leafy plant and cocked an eyebrow at me.

"And just what, if I might inquire, do you think you are doing, Dame Alice?" he snapped, jamming his fists into his hips.

I shrugged. "Would you believe we got trapped in the lobby on the way out to CSIS?" I asked tentatively, smiling innocently.

"No, actually, I would not."

I shrugged again, my innocence draining away to reveal the soul-deep yearning to be able to see my family and friends from my old life. Until this week, I had not realized how much I missed some of the people I was forced to leave behind when first the Army sent us into hiding and then my father split us up and arranged my disappearance. And of course, thinking about that made me think of my father and the yearning trebled.

His face softened and he sat beside me on the padded bench behind the plant, hugging me. "I know you miss the people you left behind to become Alice," he said softly into my scalp as he kissed the side of my head, "but it would do neither you nor them any good to reveal yourself. The time for that may be forced upon us, by the NSA people you met yesterday or by Lillian in June, but now is not the time to risk premature discovery while so many things are up in the air here in Washington. We still don't know what is going on with the Russians. We still don't have any information on why people were kidnapping those young boys over the Christmas holidays. And we still do not know who or, more importantly, what is in town with interest in you, me, or these talks that could look for leverage against you and me. I think now that they are older and could probably be counted on to keep secrets, we might manage to get you home to see your family, before the wedding so that you could attend. Now, however, is a time to keep our wits about us. Right?"

I hugged him back with a sigh. "Correct. Sorry, Uncle."

He shook his head as he broke the hug and looked down at me with understanding. "Don't be, Alice. You have more right than anyone possibly could to feel the way you do. I can't imagine how I would feel to leave William, Janine, Mother, even Lillian and Elizabeth behind and never know when I might see them again. God knows I would miss them all terribly and if I had a chance, after over half a decade away from them, to catch a glimpse of them, even from afar, I would take it. It would still be a foolish thing to do, both for them and me, but I would still long for that hint of ephemeral contact."

He stood and held out a hand, pulling me to my feet. "I have to get back to the White House," he said, looking into my eyes with a piercing gaze. "Are you going to be all right?"

I hitched a weak smile onto my face. "I will be," I replied, looking at my watch as a convenient way to avoid that gaze. "And I have to go, as well. I really am expected at CSIS shortly. Dinner tonight?"

He smiled down at me and nodded. "Perhaps one of the Americans knows of a good Italian restaurant conveniently located in the vicinity," he said enticingly, his brow rising in question.

I grinned up at him and nodded with enthusiasm. We walked each other out and into the waiting vehicles that John and Ambrose apparently went to get while we were talking without me noticing it. Not good. There was, as Eoin so deftly reminded me, entirely too much going on in DC at that moment for me to start not noticing the movement of such dangerous personages as Ambrose and John, even if they were our dangerous personages.

My CSIS internship director was a fawning, officious twit named Everard Etherege who seemed to think he knew more about British history and politics than I did, a presumption I was quite sure was wildly delusional since he never stepped foot in the Kingdom. Dr. Etherege, as he insisted I call him, was a tall, lanky, dark-featured, middle-aged man with a rapidly receding hairline and a pock-marked face that reminded me of the actor Robert Davi without the odd attractiveness Davi could claim. His oily-looking hair was combed straight back, as if to emphasize that it would not be with him much longer and his brown eyes were perpetually watery, giving him a weak, pathetic appearance. He had a supercilious air about him; trying to make sure he bowed and scraped enough for my dignities at the same time he was trying to assert his "obvious" superiority to me. Watching him contort himself in that manner was exhausting and more than mildly annoying. I was eventually going to have to put him in his place; I could see it coming.

Anyway. After Dr. Etherege showed me around the CSIS building and introduced me to some of my fellow interns and their mentors as well as going over what I would be doing while at CSIS, I was released from his presence and told to report for my first day when the term at Georgetown started.

"I was told by Professor Fergusson before I left Oxford that the internship wasn't supposed to start until the 20^th," I said as he tried to leave me in the lobby of the CSIS building.

An aggravated look came over his face. "Well, you were misinformed, Miss Spencer-Killdare," he said rather snootily, scowling down his nose at me. "The internship begins the same day as your classes at Georgetown University do. You are earning credit hours for this program and so you will start when the rest of your coursework does. I will see you Monday. That is the 17^th."

As I picked up Edgar and John in the lobby where I left them I made a mental note to look up one of the Jesuits on the Georgetown campus and find out what they had to say about Dr. Etherege. There was something off about him and it was more than just his superior, holier-than-thou attitude.

I gave some thought to hitting the bookstore for the rest of the books I would need next week for my three classes (History of Japan, 19^th Century European Military History, and German Literature and Epic Poetry) but I decided not to worry about it until later in the week. The only class of the three I was worried about having trouble with was the History of Japan, since I had never studied it before (thus the reason I was taking the course). I was still fluent in German, so the Literature and Epic Poetry class was just to expand my knowledge of the language, allowing me to challenge myself in that regard. The Military History class was going to be a cinch given that politics and war were two of my specialties and the 19^th century in European History was the classic case study of how the two were interwoven.

So since I decided against shopping for the rest of my books, the boys drove me home to the Watergate to get ready for dinner. I barely noticed the other embassy SUV following us at a discreet distance. They were so far back that you could be forgiven for missing the fact that we had extra watchers today. In fact, I doubt the unmarked sedans that rotated out in their watch over us would have noticed them. I was going on the assumption that they were either more NSA watchdogs or the Secret Service took back the responsibility for watching me. Fred reported back that all of the drivers and passengers of the vehicles were wired into a com-net and all of the cars came back registered to the U. S. government. After they learned that, Edgar noticeably relaxed as we went about our day.

It was getting dark when we pulled up to the Watergate Complex. Edgar escorted me up to the suites and John stayed with the car until we knew what Ambrose and Eoin had planned for dinner.

I groaned when I knocked on Eoin's door and saw him in one of his best suits and already groomed to his elegant best. He smiled at the sound and shook his head. "You, my dear niece, are a barbarian. You have no appreciation for the finer things in life, including clothing."

I raised a brow at him. "I would gladly stand here for the rest of the night and argue the point vigorously but I shall refrain and simply point out that I have as great an appreciation for the 'finer things in life' as any Spencer could," was my sharp rejoinder, doing my best to stare down my nose at him, which would have worked better if I were taller. Much taller. "Grandmother, Elizabeth, and Hestia saw to that. I simply prefer to do my appreciating in more comfortable clothes." I waved at my very comfortable faded black jeans, silk camisole shirt, white linen button-down shirt, black trench coat, and black combat boots.

He sniffed with appropriate aristocratic panache. "You look like a well-financed hooligan, my dear," he retorted with mock severity. Then he grinned. "Go put on one of those devastatingly elegant yet simple gowns that Elizabeth helped you acquire. We are dining with Sir James and Sir Robin Renwick, our U. S. Ambassador. He received your request for instructions on how to get a license and will bring what you need with him. Apparently foreign nationals get their driver's license from the State Department, not the localities in which they dwell while here. So go get dressed, one of the State Department officials told me about this four-star restaurant not far from here called Cucina di Buonarrati that she promised me will be the best Italian food I have ever eaten."

I am sure my eyes glowed at the thought. "Well, why didn't you start with that?" I demanded with a growl before doing an about face and running off to my room, leaving Edgar and Eoin laughing at me in the hall.

Dinner was delightful, even if I did have to dress up for it. Sir James and Sir Robin were both entertaining dinner companions and Sir Robin handed me a thick envelop when we got to the restaurant, explaining that the required documents and the driver's manual were within. He advised me to study hard before I attempted to take the test because some of the examiners were more than a bit tough on foreign nationals attempting to get driver's licenses. While we were dining, the snow I smelled the day before began wreathing down out of the gloomy sky. It was beautiful, watching the snow dance in the street lights and the lights of passing cars. There was virtually no wind to speak of, so the snow was free to float down to quickly coat the roads and buildings and vehicles, turning Washington, D. C. into a winter wonderland that was simply breath-taking. I love winter; it can be so beautiful.

The rest of my week was pretty uneventful. I studied the manual and got a little practice in on the Land Rover in a local mall parking lot with Edgar and John, despite the thirteen inches of snow we wound up getting over two days. By the time they were done with me, I was probably qualified to drive foreign dignitaries in war zones. Ambrose gave the two men explicit instructions to teach me how to DRIVE. That was, it would seem, very different from merely learning how to drive. Both Eoin and Ambrose wanted me to be able to drive my way out of trouble and my two shadows put me through a crash course on evasive and offensive driving.

At the end of the week, we took a trip to the GU bookstore to pick up my class books and I spent the Friday split between readying myself for the driving test and getting a jump on reading the dozen or so books I was required to obtain for the three classes. Half of them were for the German Lit class alone.

Saturday I moved into the Georgetown University dorm; finally getting to meet my roommate, a half-Japanese, half-Sioux girl named Mariko Moonshadow. She was the first female my age or older that I didn't immediately get boob-envy over. Mariko had a similar build as me except she was a good eight inches taller and I at least had a firm, nicely-shaped butt. My new roommate was as lacking in that area as she was her chest.

She was a pre-med student whose parents were both also half-Japanese, half-Sioux. Their fathers were both in World War II and stationed in Japan after the war, meeting and marrying Japanese war widows. Their children met in the Sioux reservation school in South Dakota and eventually married, producing Mariko and her younger brother Kizune before her father died rather mysteriously. As soon as the very serious Mariko shook my hand I got an interesting vibe off of her, like she and I could either be really good friends or the deadliest of enemies. That night we ordered Chinese delivery from a place near campus she knew was good and we got to know each other over eggrolls, kung pao chicken, and beef lo mein.

I got up early on a chill Sunday morning and wandered around campus until I found a quiet, out-of-the-way spot where I could work out. I brought along my bo, the only weapon I thought I could carry without drawing too much attention. Even before I left the dorm, I knew Secret Service or NSA agents would be watching but there was nothing I could do about it so I simply went through my routine and ignored them. I worked with the staff for a half hour, long enough for my body to start steaming in the chill morning air, and then put it aside and worked my way through a series of katas for karate, kung fu, chi gung, and krav maga that Hestia and Paul, my old teachers, developed for me. By the time I was done, I had worked up a nice sweat and attracted an audience of a dozen or so fellow early risers. They clapped and slowly broke up when it was obvious the show was over. Two men in jogging suits, gloves, knit caps, and well-hidden shoulder holsters lingered.