Ana Leigh - Reconcilable Differences

“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. I once believed that kind of humor was beneath you.”

“I might say the same about you, Mrs. Manning. So it would seem we were both wrong about each other. By the way, it’s Agent Cassidy. I’m not in the military, Mrs. Manning.”

He lay back down and closed his eyes.

“Agent? You mean you’re one of these CIA agents, too?”

With a resigned sigh, he opened his eyes and sat back up. “I work for the CIA if that’s what you’re asking, Mrs. Manning. I’m not with intelligence.”

“I think I have a right to know what went on there, since the CIA apparently believes I’m involved in the murder of Ali bin Muzzar.”

“I can assure you, Mrs. Manning, you weren’t. Bin Muzzar was still alive after you passed out. I informed them of that during the debriefing. Now, if you don’t mind.” He stretched out on the bench again and closed his eyes.

“I suppose your squad killed him?”

He stiffened with annoyance and sat up. “No, my squad did not kill him. Ask your husband, Mrs. Manning, maybe he can tell you.”

“Are you saying Robert killed Ali?”

“I didn’t say that. I can only tell you that the last time I, or any member of my squad, saw bin Muzzar he was still alive.”

At that moment Robert Manning came into the room and took a seat. Trish made no move toward him, but went over and sat down on an empty chair.

They waited another half hour until all the squad members were debriefed, and then they were driven to a hotel.

Trish balked when they started to assign her and Robert to the same room. She insisted upon a separate one and won the argument.

Once alone, she flopped down in relief on the bed. Despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, the hardest thing to bear was the change in Dave.

Seeing him again had been the answer to her prayers. But he was so different from the man she remembered. Granted, he had good reason not to greet her with open arms, but remembering the love and tenderness they had once shared, it was hard to believe he held so much bitterness toward her.