Chapter Eighteen
“Thank you, Mr. Shaw,” said the woman. “You’re excused.”
Shaw gathered up his notes and walked outside. He sat in the foyer and looked out at the miserable weather. Another cold, gray, gloomy Canberra day. He’d liked the city once, when he’d been young and naive enough to be impressed by the dense population of power brokers, politicians, and public servants. Canberra was the heart of the nation, or at least it told itself that. The rest of the nation seemed to get along just fine without it.
And there was a reason Shaw worked out of the Sydney office. Canberra had to be the most boring city in the world, once the initial glow wore off. Trying to find somewhere open for dinner after nine p.m.? Good luck with that. No, fly-in, fly-out was how Shaw liked it now.
And now here he was again, staying in a dull, three-star hotel with Callie, missing Molly, until the end of the inquiry. And an inquiry headed by politicians, of all people. It had taken the first week just to get them au fait with the acronyms ASIO used. Shaw still wasn’t convinced some of them knew what ASIO stood for. It had been hard not to let his contempt show. Politicians didn’t care about national security. They only pulled that card out when it came to refugees arriving on boats. They didn’t know the real thing when it bit them, and they were completely out of their depth here.
It felt like a Star Chamber deal. Shaw recognized one or two of the faces sitting in judgment of him, and he was fairly certain they didn’t like him. And the rest? No fucking clue. Faceless bureaucrats. They were the real authority here, and that shouldn’t have rankled so much. What was Shaw himself but a faceless bureaucrat?
Shaw sighed. It was raining again. Why was winter in Canberra always so miserable? It rained, and the only time it stopped raining was when it actually snowed. Jesus, it was enough to make him wish he was still on that Fijian island.
“Why the long face?” a voice asked him.
Shaw looked up and smiled. “Zev! Are you a part of this circus as well?”
“Trained seal,” Zev said, slapping his hands together and yelping.
It attracted the attention of others in the lobby.
“What are you going to say?” Shaw asked.
“I’m going to be silent and mysterious,” Zev said. “But I thought, with your permission, that I’d remind them that your country has very strong ties with the U.S., and that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to rescue one of their DEA agents. The Americans will like that.”
Shaw nodded. “The Americans will like that.”
“I already blamed you at my inquiry,” Zev said with a quick grin. “The least I can do is spin a new tale in there.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Shaw said.
A woman flittered out into the foyer. “Mr. Hirsch? Mr. Ari Hirsch?”
“Showtime,” Zev said, and headed inside.
Zev was inside for less than an hour. Shaw doubted that was long enough to rehabilitate his reputation, but Zev gave him a wink as he sailed outside to the car that was waiting for him.
Shaw flicked through his notes again. There was nothing new in there. Either the government would support his decision to scupper an entire six-year operation to save Lee, or they wouldn’t. And worrying about it wouldn’t change the outcome.
Callie sighed as she sank into the seat next to him. Her face was pinched with cold. She’d been outside to use her phone.
“How’s Molly?” Shaw asked. He didn’t really trust Callie’s latest boyfriend to dog-sit. Latest boyfriend. That made her sound like a tramp, which was unfair. Callie was very discreet.
“She’s fine.” Callie brushed her curls back behind her ears. She’d been going for a severe bob the last time she’d had her hair cut but failed to take the curls into account. “Steve wants to know if we can keep her all the time.”
“Over my dead body,” Shaw murmured.
Callie raised her eyebrows. “Well, that was always the plan.”
Shaw snorted and found a newspaper to read. He heard the automatic doors roll open but didn’t bother look up.
“Shaw?”
Shaw recognized the voice before he recognized Lee. His dark hair had grown into the soft curls he had imagined it would. He wasn’t pale anymore. He had a healthy glow and no bags under his eyes. He’d filled out a bit. He looked good. And God, he’d missed him. It all flooded back in an instant.
“Jesus, Lee!” He stood, stuck out his hand, and caught an eyeful of the sour faces of Lee’s escorts. A man and a woman, but they were cut from the exact same mold. They both wore sunglasses and dark suits with American flag pins on the lapels.
Lee shook his hand. “Good to see you, Shaw.”
“You too. You look good.” Fuck, was he gushing? That sounded a lot like gushing.
Lee smiled hesitantly and wiped his hand on his jacket. He was nervous, Shaw realized. It wasn’t his job on the line, but they were going to make him relive it all inside that room.
“Yeah,” Lee said. His brows drew together in a frown, and Shaw resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it away. “I didn’t recognize you in a suit.”
Shaw shrugged. “No. You either. Good luck in there, hey?”
“Thanks.”
Lee allowed his escorts to draw him off to the side. He sat in a seat, staring at the carpet and jiggling his leg until his name was called.
Shaw watched him go. He heard the doors to the chamber open and close and wondered what Lee would say about him.
“Cute,” Callie murmured.
Shaw made a face. He read the newspaper again, never more conscious than now of the clock ticking slowly on the wall. What the hell were they asking him in there? What Shaw had done? He didn’t care about that. What Vornis had done? It wasn’t fair.
He looked around the foyer for the boss and found him fighting with the coffee machine. Shaw approached him.
“Frank, I’ve already testified,” he said. “Can I go in and listen?”
“Sure.” Frank swore as he spilled coffee down his tie.
Shaw headed up the corridor and opened the door quietly. He slipped into the public gallery. It was closed, of course, but there were several heads of various agencies there, suits and uniforms, taking notes for their departments. Probably all headed: How not to fuck up like ASIO.
Lee was speaking in a quiet, assured voice when Shaw sat down.
The chairwoman waited for him to finish before she hit him with the million dollar question: “Agent Adam Shaw has already made mention of what he called the peepshow. What do you understand by that?”
Lee moistened his lips nervously and leaned forward toward the microphone. “Um, the first time I didn’t really know what was going on. I was still drugged. But I realized there were cameras, so I played along. We did that a few times.”
“Did you feel that Agent Shaw was taking advantage of your condition and your circumstances, Mr. Anderson?” the woman pressed.
“No, ma’am,” Lee said in a steady voice. “If he hadn’t pretended, Vornis would have done it for real. I was grateful.”
“Did Agent Shaw every touch you inappropriately?” the woman asked.
Did making him come count? Shaw wondered. What about letting Lee suck him off in the shower? None of those things had made it into his report. If Lee spilled his guts now, he was up to his neck in shit.
Except what was inappropriate anyway? It was Vornis’s island, for Christ’s sake, not a Sunday-school picnic. And you had to do things among people like that, because if they didn’t trust you, then you were dead. That’s what had rankled from the beginning of the inquiry. None of those men and women on the panel seemed to get that.
“No, ma’am,” Lee said. “Not once.”
Shaw kept his face impassive. Nothing to see here, move along.
He should have known. Lee hadn’t given him up to Vornis, and he wouldn’t give him up to the inquiry either. He still trusted Shaw, apparently, when Shaw hadn’t trusted himself in a long time.
“Did you tell Agent Shaw you were with the DEA?” the chairwoman asked.
“As soon as I remembered, yes, ma’am.”
The chairwoman shuffled her papers. “Do you recall the night of the eleventh of March?”
“I don’t know what date it was,” Lee said. “Do you mean the night I got rescued?”
“Yes.” The chairwoman looked at him over her glasses. “Did Agent Shaw tell you he was going to rescue you?”
Lee hesitated, and Shaw knew he was trying to figure out the motivation behind the question. He stuck to the truth. “No, ma’am. He’d said previously he would call the DEA when he was off the island. The night in question, he told me to shut up and take it.” He paused, suddenly hearing how bad it sounded. “But that was before Vornis said he was going to kill me.”
“And did you believe that threat?” the chairwoman asked.
Shaw almost snorted. She had no clue the sort of people he had been dealing with. None of them did.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lee said, and there was a quaver in his voice. “He, um, he always carried through on his threats.”
“And after Vornis threatened to kill you,” the chairwoman said, “did Agent Shaw tell you he would rescue you?”
“No, ma’am,” Lee said. “There wasn’t time for that. But I knew he would.” His voice was strong again.
Shaw’s chest constricted, and his heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if it was true. He’d known? Lee had known? Christ, he hadn’t known himself until he’d seen the cattle prod on the wall.
“Did Agent Shaw tell you who he really was?” the chairwoman said through pursed lips.
“No,” said Lee firmly.
“And did he reveal to you that Ari Hirsch was an ally?” the chairwoman asked.
Lee looked lost. He glanced around the room but couldn’t see Shaw sitting behind him. “I don’t know that name.”
Of course he didn’t. It was one of Zev’s many aliases. Unless, Shaw reflected, it was actually his real name, and Zev Rosenberg was the alias. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it was the sort of inconsequential little detail inquiries liked to tie themselves in knots with.
“The, ah, man who initially identified as Ali Ibn Usayd,” the chairwoman told him, turning back through her notes.
“No,” Lee said. “I didn’t know that until we were on the shi-um, frigate.”
Frigate. Anzac class. The crew gets shitty when you call it the wrong thing.
Shaw raised his hand to cover his smile. He wondered if he imagined the smile in Lee’s voice as well.
“Did he tell you then?” the chairwoman asked.
Lee sounded a shade sarcastic. “Yes, ma’am. He sort of had to say something, you know, after a navy frigate picked us up.”
Shaw hid another smile. He liked snarky Lee.
The chairwoman frowned slightly at him over her glasses. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Anderson. We appreciate how difficult this must have been for you.”
“Can I say something?” Lee asked and didn’t wait for her to answer. “Agent Shaw saved my life. My government didn’t even know I was still alive. He saved me. He didn’t have to, but he did. He’s a good guy.” A flush rose on the back of his neck. “That’s all. Thank you.”
He rose, turned, and saw Shaw sitting there. His eyes widened, and then he pushed his way back outside.
Shaw waited for a minute and followed. Lee’s escorts were still waiting in the foyer, but there was no sign of Lee. Shaw looked up the hallway and saw the sign for the toilets. He headed toward them.
As soon as he pushed the door open, he could hear the sounds of retching.
“Lee?” He pushed open the doors to the stalls and found Lee on his knees in the third one. “Lee, are you okay?”
Lee pulled himself up, wiping his mouth. He flipped the toilet seat down and sat on it heavily. “Yeah. It’s good to see you, really.” He started to cry.
Shaw’s heart raced. The same protective instinct he’d always felt with Lee came rushing right back like no time at all had passed. He knelt in front of Lee and put his arms around him. Lee leaned forward and rested his head on his shoulder, and it felt right.
“They shouldn’t have called you up,” he said. “That’s just fucking cruel.”
“I wanted to help,” Lee mumbled into his collar. “You shouldn’t lose your job because of me.”
Shaw shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I made a call. It was the right one, but it did fuck up an entire intelligence operation.”
“Yeah,” Lee said. “And now we’re locked in a bathroom stall together. That’s gonna look bad.”
Shaw laughed. “Yeah, won’t it?”
Lee sniffed.
Shaw patted him on the back and released him. “How’ve you been, anyway?”
Lee shrugged. “Okay, actually, until this. I went home, but since it’s all classified, I can’t talk to anyone but my shrink about it. My parents don’t know what the fuck happened.” He frowned and looked away. “My mom saw my back once when I got out of the shower, and just started screaming.”
Shaw reached up and touched his hair. He stroked the curls gently.
Lee shuddered. “I think I’m gonna have to move out.”
“I’m sorry,” Shaw said, reaching for his hand. “But, you know, there’s classified and then there’s classified.”
“How do you mean?” Lee asked him, chewing his lower lip.
Fuck, that was distracting. Shaw pulled his thoughts back with difficulty. “I mean make something up. Tell them a drug lord tortured you. You don’t have to tell them everything. They probably just want to help.”
Lee shrugged dismissively, so Shaw didn’t press the point.
Lee looked at him worriedly. “Did I do okay in there?”
“Yeah,” said Shaw. “Don’t worry about it. You did great. If they want me gone, I’m gone. If they decide I’m worth the trouble, they’ll find a way to spin it so I come out smelling like roses. It’s just politics.”
“And what if they want you gone?” Lee asked him with a frown. “It’s my fault.”
“No,” Shaw said. He shook his head. “None of this was ever your fault. And I will never regret getting you off that island.”
I only regret I didn’t do it sooner.
“But what will you do if you lose your job?” Lee asked.
“I’ve put some thought into that,” Shaw told him with a smile. “I’ll head back up to Ayr, buy myself a tinny, and spend my days wetting a line with Molly.” He almost laughed at the look on Lee’s face. “Molly’s my dog.”
“I didn’t understand half of what you just said,” Lee said, wrinkling his nose. “But I’m glad Molly’s a dog.”
They both tensed as they heard the squeal of the door. “Mr. Anderson?”
Lee rolled his eyes. “Gimme a minute, okay?”
The door squealed shut again.
“They’re like fucking guards,” Lee said. He leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against Shaw’s. “I gotta go. I’ll miss you.”
Shaw rose, his thighs aching. “I’ll miss you too, Lee. Take care of yourself, okay?”
Lee straightened his tie. “Yeah,” he said. “You too.”
Shaw waited until he was gone before he let himself out of the stall.
* * * *
“So,” Callie said that night as she looked for the remote control, “this is you now? Drunk and miserable?”
Shaw knocked the top off another bottle of beer. “I’m not drunk. Yet.”
They were sharing a room. It wasn’t an issue for either of them, but Shaw knew it would have been different if he had been straight. In some respects, the service had come a long way, he supposed. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have been sent into the field. Thirty years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to get a job with ASIO. Forty years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to get any government job at all.
Callie found the remote at last and turned off the television. She flopped onto the bed on her stomach and flipped open her laptop. “The Americans are very interested in the outcome of the inquiry, you know,” she said.
Shaw shrugged.
Callie checked her e-mail. “I’m telling you this because I don’t think they’ll be happy if the inquiry hangs you out to dry.”
“And we must keep the Americans happy,” Shaw muttered.
“You should be glad when it works in your favor,” Callie told him sternly.
Shaw shook his head. “You know, Cal, I don’t even care much at the moment.”
Callie picked at a piece of fluff on her pajama top. “I think you do, and that’s the problem. I’ve got your e-mail right here. At what point am I a fucking monster?”
Shaw looked at her sideways. “Christ, Callie, you know that’s all about context. I felt like shit that night.”
It was always about context with Shaw. Context or interpretation or perspective. There was nothing he couldn’t get a philosophical crowbar underneath, and maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe he’d lived so long in that world that he wasn’t fit to live in normal society. And he’d always trusted that Callie would warn him when he was too close to the edge, but maybe she’d lost all perspective as well. Shit, maybe they all had.
Shaw sighed. Or maybe Callie was right, and he was just drunk and miserable.
“And you think I didn’t?” Callie asked, raising her brows. “What did I send back? It’s not your job to give a fuck. Meanwhile, I was ready to have a breakdown in the middle of the bloody office! Frank threatened to have me pulled off your support team. All I could see was that photo you’d sent. This young, cute guy, and you were going to watch him be tortured. I went and cried in the toilets because I had to be the one to tell you not to give a fuck.”
“Jesus.” Shaw sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s my job to pick up the slack for you,” Callie reminded him. “God, I wish you’d seen Frank’s face when we got the call from the Stuart.”
“I’m glad I didn’t,” Shaw said.
“Oh, he called you everything under the sun,” Callie said. “For hours. And then he asked if you’d got the American out. None of us wanted him to die. It’s just none of us wanted to throw in a six-year op either. And the next morning, Frank was on the phone telling everyone he supported the decisions his agents made in the field.”
“It’s probably not enough to save me,” Shaw reminded her.
Callie shrugged. “But we all know you’re not a monster. And that’s the important thing, right?”
Shaw finished his beer. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Callie fetched a beer from the bar fridge. “You know, that picture you sent didn’t do him justice.”
Shaw smiled slightly.
“He’s cute,” Callie said. “And when he doesn’t look twelve anymore, he’ll be hot.”
Shaw snorted. “He’s twenty-two.”
“He’s a twink,” Callie said, throwing Shaw a sly smile. “And apparently that’s your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” Shaw said.
“Bullshit,” Callie said. “I can tell you’re head over heels for that kid.”
Maybe, Shaw thought, but I don’t have a type.
“You can’t call him a kid,” he said at last. “You’re like two years older than him.”
“And hugely jealous that he looks so young,” Callie said. She flicked her bottle cap in Shaw’s direction. “You can bet he doesn’t even use any moisturizer!”
“Yeah, he’s cute,” Shaw said and looked out the window for a moment.
It was a three-star view of a car park.
“And more than that,” Callie said. “You miss him.”
Shaw turned his face to look at her sharply.
Callie raised her tinted eyebrows. “Don’t even try to bullshit me. I know you too well. You had a thing. Or, if you didn’t, you wanted to.”
Shaw knew better than to answer that. He shrugged.
“You could go to his hotel,” Callie said.
“I don’t even know where he’s staying,” Shaw said.
“We’re ASIO, for fuck’s sake,” Callie said. “If anyone can find out, it’s us, right?”
Shaw laughed. “I suppose so. But we’re not going to stalk him. Look, maybe some stuff happened that didn’t make my report, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to put it all behind him and get on with his life. He doesn’t want me. How could he? Not after I saw the things they did to him.”
Callie inspected a thread on the hem of her pajama shirt. She raised her eyebrows. “Did you ask him?”
“What?” Shaw asked.
“Did you ask him?” Callie repeated.
“It’s too late now,” Shaw said, wiping a droplet of moisture off the neck of the bottle. Jesus, how could he have asked something like that? Lee had enough to deal with without Shaw laying that emotional blackmail on him: I saved you, stay with me! It would have been too cruel.
“If you’re sure,” Callie said and flashed him a grin. “Because, you know, if this was a movie, I’d be the mad bitch who drove the wrong way in traffic so you could catch him at the airport and declare your love.”
Shaw snorted with amusement at that mental picture. He didn’t doubt for a second it was true. “Cal, whatever happens you’ll always be my mad bitch.”
She raised her bottle in a toast. “Damn straight.”
Shaw laughed despite himself.
He wondered if he should tell her how often he dreamed of Lee, and how, surprisingly, it wasn’t sexual. Okay, so sometimes it was. Sometimes his subconscious took him back to that day when Lee had gone down onto his knees in the shower, and he’d looked fucking gorgeous with his eyes closed, his mouth around Shaw’s cock, and the water running over his skin. But most of the time, he dreamed they were still adrift on the Pacific, before they’d been rescued.
Stay with me, Lee.
Zev wasn’t with them in the dream. It was just the two of them, their fingers entwined. Just the two of them and the Pacific and the stars.
Stay with me, Lee.
And they drifted together in the Milky Way.