Reconcilable Differences. Ana Leigh
She started to get up to shake it off.
“Ma’am, it’s best you remain seated until we touch down,” the man who sat beside her said.
“Where are we?”
“Rheinmein Air Base, ma’am, in Frankfurt, Germany.”
“Germany!”
Their voices attracted Dave’s attention and he glanced over to them. “Trouble, Addison?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Manning is awake and wanted to know what was happening.”
Outside the plane, crewman swung the door open, and several of the men jumped out. The revolving red light of an emergency vehicle flashed through the opening and someone outside handed a stretcher into the helicopter.
“If you lie down, ma’am, we’ll get you out of here.”
“I don’t need a stretcher,” Trish said. “I’m fine, now.”
She moved to the door, and as she tried to step down, her knees buckled. She fell forward into Dave’s outstretched arms.
For a hushed moment they stared into each other’s eyes, and she fought the urge to fling her arms around his neck and never let go.
“Mrs. Manning, there would be less chance of your getting injured if you would lie down on the stretcher,” he said.
“I’ll be fine. I just have to shake off the numbness.”
Dave released her, and joined the squad who were piling into a military vehicle. Addison led her to a sedan, assisted her in and then joined his squad. Robert and two other men climbed in after her.
The car pulled out and the military vehicle followed behind. They drove to a building located right on the base.
Once inside, Trish was taken to an office where two men and a woman were waiting.
“How do you do, Mrs. Manning,” one of the men said. “Please sit down.” He nodded to the woman and she turned on a machine.
The woman identified herself, announced the date, time and location, and then said, “The following is an interrogation of Patricia Diane Manning. Present are Agent Roger Reteva, Agent William Moore, and Mrs. Patricia Manning.”
To Trish’s further surprise, the woman followed it with her father’s Georgetown address. Why would these people know her father’s address?
“Mrs. Manning, I’m Agent Reteva,” one of the men said. “And this is my associate William Moore. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“Who do you represent, Mr. Reteva?” Trish asked.
“I don’t think that’s germane to the issue, Mrs. Manning.”
“I’m afraid I do. If you expect me to answer any of your questions you will have to answer mine first.”
The two men at the table exchanged meaningful glances. “We’re with the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States, madam.”
Trish gasped in surprise. “The CIA? What is this all about?”
Reteva’s lips curled in a slight smile. “That’s what we are trying to find out, Mrs. Manning. Your name is Patricia Diane Manning?”
“Yes.”
“Your maiden name was Patricia Hunter, and you’re a citizen of the United States?”
“Yes, I am,” Trish replied. “Will you kindly tell me why I’m being interrogated?”
“It is our understanding you were a house guest for the past two days at the home of Sheik Ali bin Muzzar. Is that correct, Mrs. Manning?”
“Yes.”
“Was this a business or personal visit, Mrs. Manning?”
“I was told it was a business trip,” Trish said. “Although, the sheik and my husband were classmates at Harvard University. It has been my impression that they have maintained a friendship since then.”
“Were there any other guests present at the time?”
“Yes, a Mr. Colin McDermott.”
“Had you met Mr. McDermott previously to that time?”
“No,” Trish said.
“Was Mr. McDermott also a Harvard classmate of your husband?”
“I have no idea.”
“A business associate?”
“I’ve never heard the name before, but it doesn’t rule it out since I’m not active in my husband’s business affairs.”
“Your husband is a vice president at the firm of Hunter International Banking Incorporated in Washington, D.C., is that correct?”
“Yes it is,” Trish replied.
“And your father Henry Jonathan Hunter is the president and majority stockholder of that firm. Is that also correct, Mrs. Manning?”
“The last I heard he was,” Trish said lightly, to disguise her irritation. She was thoroughly confused. Why was she being interrogated like a common criminal?
“It is our understanding that as American citizens, your life and that of your husband would have been threatened if you had remained at the home of Sheik bin Muzzar. Is that correct?”
“I don’t know. I passed out. When I awoke, I was in a helicopter and on my way here.”
“Before you ‘passed out,’ Mrs. Manning, did you witness any business exchange, conversation or threats between your husband, Ali bin Muzzar or Colin McDermott.”
“No. On the contrary, my husband and bin Muzzar were close friends. I only met Mr. McDermott for the first time at dinner that evening. He retired to his room early because he said he intended to leave the following morning. I did the same.” She could not embarrass herself by telling these strangers what had actually transpired between her and those two degenerates after McDermott had departed.
“And that was the last you saw of Mr. McDermott?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Manning, you’ve been most cooperative.”
The woman turned off the machine, and the two men stood up.
“Until Sheik bin Muzzar’s death is cleared up—”
“Ali is dead?”
“Yes, Mrs. Manning. Until we have all the details, you will have to remain in our custody. We will be returning you to the United States tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand, Mr. Reteva, am I under arrest?”
“Mrs. Manning, there has been a crime committed, so for the time being consider yourself under our protection. If you have been straightforward with us, you have nothing to worry about. Enjoy your brief stay in Germany, madam. If there is anything you need or wish, we are at your disposal.”
Trish was taken to a reception room where several of the squad were playing cards. There was no sign of Robert, but Dave was stretched out on a bench in a far corner with his eyes closed. She wanted some answers and wanted them now. She strode over to him.
“Dave, I want to talk to you.”
He opened his eyes, gave her a disgruntled look and then sat up.
“What do you want?”
“What happened at bin Muzzar’s palace after I passed out?”
“Hmm…let me think. Oh, yeah, your husband and his friend invited us to join the party, so the whole squad jumped you.”
His sardonic smirk made her angrier than his words. “Your attempt at humor fails miserably, General Cassidy.