Chapter Four
***
A week later...

Race and Benton lounged by the pool, alternately working and 
swimming as the mood took them.  Currently, Race was sitting 
cross-legged on a chaise, typing away at the lap-top he 
habitually used for tracking and research.  His large fingers 
picked at the keys dexterously and he watched the screen 
intently.

Benton looked up from his technical journal.

“What are you after now?”

“Weather patterns in Tibet.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Not yet.  But we’ve been having some problems with satellite 
communications with our field station there.  I hope it’s 
something simple and inexplicable like sunspots.  It may be 
something or *someone* else.”

Quest laughed.  “I’ve missed having some good old-fashioned 
paranoia around here.” 

“Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get 
me, you know. And a disturbing number of people *have* been 
out to get us in the past and probably will be in the future.”

“And to think that all I ever wanted was a quiet life of research 
and a big family. I missed on both counts.”

“Yeah - but it’s never boring.” Race got up and stripped off the 
unbuttoned shirt he wore.  “Where are the kids?” . 

“They’re down at the lighthouse, playing in Questworld.  They’ll 
be there all afternoon and half the night, most likely.  We’re 
alone.”

“Swim?” he asked with studied casualness.

“Maybe.  But let me put some sunblock on your back.“ 

“We’re in Maine, Benton, not the Caribbean.”

“The sun shines here, too.  And it’ll burn those stripes right into 
you - that new skin is still too delicate.  Come on, trust your 
doctor.” Grumbling but obedient, Race sat down on the end of 
Benton’s chaise and allowed him to rub sunblock over his back. 


Observing the scene from her bedroom windows, Jessie was 
struck by how peaceful and private it looked.  Their voices had 
carried through her open windows and roused her from her 
reading.

What “stripes”?  “New skin?”  What was Dr. Quest talking 
about?  Her mother had taught her that there was a lot of 
valuable information to be gained simply by listening, 
unobserved, so she remained very still, hidden by the drapes, 
and watched.  They were across the pool, but facing toward her, 
so the water projected their voices well.

She saw how gently and carefully Benton smoothed the cream 
into her father’s skin; first his back, then his arms.  When Race 
leaned back against Benton and allowed him to slowly stroke 
the sunblock onto his chest, she began to understand what she 
was seeing.

“I thought you were worried about my back.”  

She had never heard that teasing drawl her father used.  

“With you, I need to worry about everything else, too.”  

She was shocked when Benton turned his head and kissed her 
father.  Their kiss lingered, and Race’s hand moved back to pull 
Benton’s head closer.  When they slowly moved apart, her 
father grinned and said, “I thought we were going swimming.”

“You go - I’ll watch.”

Race stood up.  “You’re going to turn into a fat old man, 
Benton.”

“Well, I’m halfway there.”

She watched her father pace around the granite edge of the 
pool, coming toward her and the low springboard placed directly 
outside her room.  When he stepped onto the board, she saw 
his back and cried out softly.  It looked like a tiger had raked 
him over and over.  No wonder Benton had been concerned. 
Those weren’t old scars - they were recent wounds.  How? 
She hoped her involuntary cry hadn’t been heard over the 
splash Race made knifing into the pool.  She thought not, but 
drew back deeper behind the curtain.

Benton had heard it and when he saw the curtain moving, he 
knew where and who it had come from. 

Race broke the surface, swimming strongly for the opposite 
edge of the pool. When he reached it, he did a swimmers’ turn, 
diving and pushing off, gliding underwater until he came up in 
front of Benton’s seat.

“How do the ribs feel? Any soreness in the muscles?”

“Some.  I’d probably better spend some time swimming this 
week and loosen them up.”

“You got beat up pretty good.  Do some yoga, too, or you’ll lose 
the flexibility.”

“Yes, doctor,” Race salaamed sarcastically.  He pushed off to 
float lightly on his back, hands behind his head.

“Race?” Benton began tentatively. “You never told me. How did 
you escape?” His voice was purposely pitched to carry to their 
unseen listener.

“They forgot to check the unconscious man, Ben.  Always a 
mistake. I told you, they were amateurs.”  His voice was 
tolerably calm, so Benton continued.

“It’s not like you to leave unfinished business behind.”

“I didn’t.  I said, they *were* amateurs.  I’m not.  Not long after I 
left their tender care, the whole place went up in one big fireball; 
it was beautiful to see.  Not a single one escaped.”

“Then there’s no one to question?”

“They were just hired scum, Ben.  They didn’t know who hired 
them and wouldn’t have been able to tell me anyway.  They 
didn’t even know that Jessie is my daughter.  They assumed 
that I was a bodyguard or someone’s flunky. That’s probably 
why whoever wants her sent such amateurs - he figured that a 
hired gun wasn’t likely to hold out long against a little physical 
discomfort.”

“ A *little* physical discomfort?  That’s what you call it?!!”

Race came over to the side of the pool with two easy strokes. 
He folded his arms on the edge and looked seriously up at his 
friend. “Ben, bad as it was at some points, they were pretty lame 
at torture.  I was nowhere close to breaking. 

“There are pros out there, Ben.  Not the Latin American 
backwoods boys, but people who make a science out of it that 
the Nazis would envy.  The service teaches you some 
techniques for handling torture, but nothing will stand against a 
dedicated professional.

“If one of those guys had gotten a hold of me, there isn’t a damn 
thing they wouldn’t have been able to get out of me, in time.  I 
might not have been recognizable, but they would have known 
exactly where Jessie was, her shoe size and eye color. I would 
have told them everything, just so they would kill me sooner.

“As it was, that’s as close as I ever want to come.”  He shivered 
reflexively in the water.

“Why do they want her so badly?”

“I don’t know, Ben.  All I do know is that, she’s my daughter. 
And no one is ever going to hurt her while I’m around to prevent 
it.  Even if she does hate me.  At least she’s still around to 
scream at me,” he chuckled ruefully.

There was a strangled sound from the Jessie’s room.  Race 
looked around trying to pinpoint it and failed. “Did you hear 
something?”

“No,” Benton replied with some satisfaction.

He was expecting her visit to him that evening.  She came into 
the library where he was working and loitered carelessly, pulling 
out books and looking at them without seeing them.  Quest let 
her stew for a few moments, then asked,

“Was there something?”

“No.  Yes.   I mean, I saw you with my father this afternoon.”

“I thought you might have.”

His calmness in the face of her discomfort aggravated her and 
she snapped, “I think it’s disgusting!”

“Think whatever you wish.”

“What do you think Jonny would do if he found out his father 
was a queer? And mine,” she added bitterly.

“Interesting question - I’m not sure.  But he’s known me a long 
time.  And Race.  Longer, in fact, than you’ve known your dad. 
Come to think of it, he really has no excuse for not knowing 
about us.  But we’ve never flaunted it.”

“You did this afternoon.”

“I thought you were all down in Questworld.”

“So that makes it OK?”

“Under my roof, whatever two consenting adults do is ‘OK’.  I 
make my choices based on what I feel is best for the children in 
my care, then for myself. What did you see - two men kiss?  Did 
it really hurt you?”

She ran an uncertain finger along the spine of a book on the 
table beside her. Her next question surprised him. “Do you love 
him?”

“Yes.  Do you?”

“I want to.  But it’s so hard,” she wailed.

“Why? Because of me?”

“No.  Because of me,” she admitted with a surprising flash of 
adult insight. “I liked growing up with my mother, learning from 
her, doing odd jobs with her. I even liked it when she left me 
with the Fengs; they had a houseboat on the river and six 
children.  They called me ‘elder daughter’ and I herded ducks 
for them.”

“Then came Race.”

She nodded.  “And then my mother was gone.  Just like that. 
And now everything’s gone.  All I have are the …” she stopped 
suddenly.  “And now I have a father I don’t know at all.  All I do 
know is that he’s a queer and a drunkard.  He’s disgusting!”

“That’s it.”  

The scientist closed his book and got up, eyes blazing.  “It’s 
time for you to learn some unpleasant truths, young lady.’  He 
stalked toward her and she shrank from his expression, 
although he never raised his voice.

“Think, girl.  Think about what you overheard while you were 
eavesdropping this afternoon.  What you saw.  That man, whom 
you called ‘disgusting’, was prepared to be tortured to death to 
keep you safe.  

“That time he told you he was drunk, a few weeks ago?  A child 
could have seen through that story.  He had just spent the night 
being tortured; they caught him and cut him and burned him and 
beat him, trying to find out where you were.

“They did terrible things to his body, Jessie.  I know - I’ve seen 
the scars. I’ve heard him cry out in nightmares and what’s he’s 
let slip in his sleep would freeze your blood. He will never forget 
it, Jessie.  There will always be scars on his soul.

“That’s the man who said, ‘No one’s going to hurt her as long as 
I’m around - even if she hates me.’  

“Don’t you ever dare to despise your father, no matter who or 
what he sleeps with.  Not after what he’s done for you.

“And Jessie?  The next time you try to use someone’s secrets 
against them by threatening to expose them, remember that it’s 
called ‘blackmail’ and not indulged in by civilized people. 
Particularly not toward someone who has housed and fed you, 
‘queer’ or not.  Got it?”

Her mouth worked for a moment, but nothing came out.  Then 
she turned and ran from the library.


The next morning, Jessie was the last to the table.  The papers 
were already spread out, Jonny and Hadji arguing amiably over 
the comics, the sun streaming in over the ocean.  She tried to 
be casual as she strolled in.

“Good morning, Uncle Ben.  Hi guys,” she said as she took a 
plate and went to the sideboard.  Then, “Good morning, Father,” 
she said in a tentative tone.

He looked at her, carefully concealing any surprise, although his 
coffee-cup wavered in mid-air.  “Good morning, Jessie.”

Without warning, she dropped her plate and flung herself at him, 
sobbing wildly.  He was almost knocked from his seat, but 
recovered quickly, cradling her close.  His eyes sought 
Benton’s, who just shrugged slightly.  The boys stared in shock, 
frozen in their places.

Race broke the tableau by rising, easily picking up the crying 
girl.  “I think we should go somewhere a little more private.”  He 
walked out, carrying his daughter in his arms.

“Dad?”

“I think the Bannon family is working out its little problems, son.”

***
End of Chapter 4