Return of a Hero Read online

  “Shut up, Miles. Shut up and listen.” Morgan leaned forward, baring his teeth. “You and I have some talking to do, Miles. I need you to testify for me. You’re going to clear my name. Now come on, get up!” He hauled the small man to his feet.

  “But,” Lenny squealed, “I can’t! They’ll kill me! They said they’d kill me if I—”

  “And I’ll kill you if you don’t testify about what really happened, Miles,” Morgan muttered savagely. He placed one hand on the addict’s collar and jerked one arm behind him. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

  “You can’t do this!” Lenny screamed, fighting weakly against Morgan’s superior strength and bulk.

  “Like hell I can’t. Now move it, Miles.” He pushed him toward the stairs.

  Lenny Miles was in a weakened state that alarmed Morgan. The guy was nothing but skin hung over bone. He’d gone downhill since Morgan had last seen him. Guiding Miles toward the entrance, Morgan saw that the Hombre gang had disappeared. Good. It would make his job easier getting Miles safely back to the hotel.

  As he dragged Miles out of the house and onto the street, Morgan wondered how Laura would react to this disheveled man who had knowingly put the name “traitor” on him.

  The heavy, persistent knock at her door sent Laura into a spasm. She leaped off the chair, running to answer it.

  “Who is it?”

  “Morgan. Meet me over in my room, Laura.”

  “Okay.” She took the key from her purse and quickly opened the door, then walked out into the carpeted hall. Morgan’s door was open. As she entered his room, a stench assailed her, and she winced. When she saw Lenny Miles sitting unhappily on a wooden chair, she came to a halt.

  Morgan kept a hand on Miles, not trusting him. “This is Lenny Miles,” he told her darkly.

  Compassion swept through Laura as she stared at the unkempt, thin man. Lenny really did look like a frightened mouse.

  “Let me go, Captain,” he wailed. “I don’t know nothin’!”

  “Shut the door, Laura,” Morgan ordered grimly.

  Lenny cringed when Morgan lifted him to his feet. “You’re sickening, Miles.” He shoved up the sleeve on the threadbare jacket Lenny wore. There were at least ten needle tracks, attesting to his shooting hard drugs. Turning, Morgan told Laura, “Get a bath ready. I’m going to scrub him until he squeaks. While I’m doing that, you go downstairs to the men’s store and buy him some decent clothes.”

  Nodding, Laura did as he asked. In no time the bath was prepared. She laid out several towels, a fresh bar of soap and a razor. Lenny was stinking and dirty. That scraggly brown beard did nothing but make him appear more gaunt.

  “The bath’s ready, Morgan,” she called.

  Morgan had already stripped Miles of everything but his trousers. “Thanks. Now go get those clothes. You can take his filthy garments with you.”

  Laura had never seen Morgan in this kind of a mood. His face was hard, and so were his eyes. This was his soldier side, the fighter side. “I’ll throw them in a paper sack,” she said quietly.

  “After you get the clothes, put them in my room and then go to yours until I call you,” he ordered, dragging Lenny toward the bathroom.

  Relieved that Morgan was safe and unharmed, Laura nodded and left. From the look on his face, he was ready to drown Lenny instead of wash him. Her hands shaking, she clutched the filthy remains of Miles’s clothes and made her way back to her room. She was sure that as soon as Morgan got him decent, he’d begin interrogating him. A cold shiver rippled up her spine. With the mood Morgan was in, he could hurt Lenny Miles badly.

  An hour later Morgan called her. He wanted the tape recorder brought over. Grabbing it, Laura left her room and walked those few feet down the hall. The door to Morgan’s room was open, and she stepped inside. Morgan looked agitated, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms, the front of his shirt damp from Miles’s much-needed bath.

  “Laura, you ready with that tape recorder?”

  She nodded, placing the microphone on the desk next to where a miserable Lenny Miles sat. “Ready.”

  Morgan took the other chair, turned it around and threw a leg over it. He sat down only a few feet from Lenny. Dressed in a white shirt and brown trousers, his face scraped clean of a beard, Miles looked almost presentable. Already his hands were beginning to shake because he was coming off the high.

  Following standard police procedure, Morgan made Lenny give his full name, present address, then his military rank and where he’d been stationed back in 1970. After Lenny had stammered through the obligatory answers, Morgan pounced on him. “All right, Miles, I want to know what Armstrong and Young put you up to after the massacre on Hill 164.”

  Standing to one side, Laura made sure the tape was recording properly. She saw the naked fear in Lenny’s small, dark eyes. He wrung his hands.

  “Look, Captain, I can’t say anything! If I do, they’ll kill me.”

  “And I’ll kill you if you don’t. My life’s at stake, Miles. You’ve helped mess up seven years of it. Now I want the truth.”

  Lenny hung his head. “Please,” he squeaked, “they’ll kill me!” Then he added imploringly, “Look, I gotta have a fix or I’m gonna lose it!”

  Morgan was about to reach forward and jerk Miles up by his collar, when Laura placed her hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her. There was pain in her blue eyes.

  “Let me try,” she pleaded.

  His nostrils flaring, he nodded.

  “Lenny, my name is Laura Bennett. I’m a military archives expert from Washington, D.C.”

  Gradually Lenny came out of his crouch and raised his head. “The Pentagon?”

  “That’s right. Certain information was given to Morgan about why he was blamed for Hill 164. General Armstrong himself told Morgan the truth.”

  Lenny’s eyes grew round. “He did?”

  “That’s right,” Laura said, keeping her voice quiet and calming. “Don’t you think that if General Armstrong told Morgan the truth, you can tell us what you remember about the plan?”

  Chewing on almost nonexistent fingernails, Lenny gazed at the floor for a long time.

  Morgan sat tensely. If only Laura could drag the truth out of Lenny. He wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s neck and wring his life out of him for what he’d done.

  Gently Laura squeezed Lenny’s shoulder. The man jumped like a frightened mouse. She gave him a pleading smile. “We know about Operation Eagle, Lenny.”

  He gasped. “Eagle? They told you about Eagle?”

  “We know that a CIA chief by the name of Richard Hadden approved the operation.”

  “Well—I don’t understand,” he wailed. “If you know all this, you know everything!”

  “You see,” Laura whispered, trying to get him calmed down again, “we have most of the information. All that’s missing is your reason for getting into this mess, Lenny.”

  He glanced up at her. “Well—I, uh, didn’t plan on it.”

  “I know. You were under arrest and in a bunker when the NVA attacked the hill for the last time,” Laura began, hoping he’d continue the story.

  “Yeah…well, I was.” He glanced apprehensively at Morgan. “The captain saved my life by having me down in that bunker. I was high on drugs and couldn’t have hit the broadside of a barn with my M-16.” He grimaced. “A rocket hit the bunker and the next thing I knew, I was buried among hundreds of sandbags. That’s what saved me, ya know?”

  “I’m glad it did. What happened next, Lenny?” Laura coaxed.

  “I don’t know how long it was before marine reinforcements reached Hill 164. When I heard American voices, I started screaming for help. They dug me out. Colonel Armstrong was there, and he wasn’t happy. They took me aside and told me I was the only survivor. The colonel said he wanted me in solitary back at battalion headquarters so he could interrogate me.”

  “You’re doing fine,” Laura praised him.

  Lenny peeked at Morgan’s grim
features, then returned his attention to Laura. “I was in solitary for an entire day. The next morning, Armstrong came in with General Young. I repeated what I knew. He told me you were the cause of the massacre. At the time I didn’t know any different. I was in the bunker and didn’t see anything. And if I went along with their story, they said they’d give me the drugs I wanted.” Licking his lips, Lenny blurted, “I needed a fix real bad. They didn’t have to twist my arm very hard to get me to sign papers saying the captain was at fault. I figured the captain was dead. What could it hurt? Then Major Brown and Lieutenant Hardy, interrogation officers who normally questioned the enemy, grilled me for twelve hours solid. They said the press wanted to interview me. I had to answer their questions the way they wanted or else.” He opened his shaking hands toward Morgan. “Honest, Captain, I didn’t know you were still alive.”

  Morgan clenched his fists, feeling a fresh wall of anger rise within him. He felt Laura’s hand on his shoulder, as if she’d sensed his grief and anger. Looking up, he saw tears in her eyes. She was sensitive in ways that he was not. If it wasn’t for her gentle nature, he’d probably have beaten the answers out of Miles. But she had Miles eating out of her hand. Managing a tight smile, Morgan nodded his praise to her.

  “So you went along with the charade because you wanted a fix?” Laura asked.

  Giving a nod, Lenny wiped the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, Captain. But it was either roll over on this, or detox. When I got stateside, the press was houndin’ me. After three months I was discharged. Then somebody tried to kill me. I took off, realizing I was a liability to those officers.” He shrugged. “I didn’t wanna die, so I disappeared….”

  Morgan glared at Miles. He was a coward of the worst kind. Getting up, he walked around the room. Laura’s face mirrored his anguish.

  “The only way you’ll be safe is if the real truth gets out, Miles. Until then you’re living on borrowed time. Those goons who tried to kill you years ago are still around. You know too much. What I need is your testimony in order to clear my name completely. That’s the only way you’ll truly be safe.” He halted in front of Miles, gripping the back of the chair with both hands. “I’ve lived underground for seven years, Miles. I haven’t been able to see my family or have any kind of decent life for myself. If you feel as badly as you say, you’ll help me. Will you?”

  Laura saw Lenny begin to squirm. “We already have the evidence,” she told him softly. “Please come back to Washington with us, Lenny. You can stay at a drug rehab house and get decent food and care. Morgan won’t let anyone harm you.”

  “Well—” Lenny whispered.

  “Please, Lenny,” Laura begged. She held his wavering dark eyes. The man was scared to death. The question was, who was he more afraid of? Morgan, or Armstrong and Young’s old threat? Holding her breath, Laura waited those agonizing seconds while he made up his mind.

  “I ain’t had a decent meal since…a long time ago,” Lenny admitted. He glanced warily at Morgan, then at Laura. “I guess I’ll come. I’m gettin’ tired of living in cold basements with cardboard for a bed.”

  Laura didn’t know whether to cry or leap for joy. She held both reactions deep within herself. Morgan moved over to the phone.

  “We’ll book tickets on the first flight out of here for Washington,” he told her grimly.

  Lenny’s thin eyebrows rose and he craned his neck in Morgan’s direction. “You mean, I get to fly?”

  Laughing softly, Laura placed her hand on Lenny’s pitifully thin shoulder. “Only first class for you, Lenny.” Her mind raced with other items that would have to be attended to. On the plane she’d discuss them in detail with Morgan.

  “The only attorney you want to represent you is William Wendell,” Laura told Morgan in a low tone. Sweating and nervous, Lenny sat across the aisle on the commuter flight heading for Washington, D.C.

  Morgan kept one eye on Miles and keyed his focus to Laura’s comment. “I’m going to need a lawyer with the personality of a barracuda to fight the military justice system.”

  Laughing, Laura slid her hand into his. “Believe me, Bill is the best. He’s argued and won cases at the Supreme Court level. Bill is about six-foot-five, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. He wears a mustache, too.”

  Morgan managed a grin, feeling the first real hope in seven years that his life might get turned around. “Then the guy can’t be all bad.”

  “He’s the best,” she repeated fervently. “I’ll call him as soon as we get home.”

  Gently Morgan raised her hand and kissed the back of it. He held her luminous blue gaze that sparkled with happiness. “No,” he said huskily, “you’re the best. And I like the way you refer to your house as our home.”

  A sweet fire blazed through Laura, and she ached to lean those few inches and kiss his so-serious mouth. “It feels right,” Laura admitted.

  Smoothing several strands of blond hair from her cheek, Morgan said, “When this thing gets past the planning stage and we have all our proof gathered, you and I are going to sit down and have a long talk.”

  Nodding, she rested her brow against his powerful shoulder. “About the future?”

  “About us.”

  Warmth stole through Laura and she was content to wait. Morgan was being overly cautious about their relationship, but she understood why. He didn’t want his dreams to be pulled out from under him as they had once before. His life, his focus, was centered on one day at a time, not future dreams. Squeezing his arm, Laura closed her eyes, suddenly very tired. So much awaited them. Bill Wendell would have to be brought to the house, and a deposition taken from Lenny and Morgan. That would start the wheels of justice turning. Hopefully, in Morgan’s favor this time.

  “What do you think, Bill?” Laura asked, looking across the kitchen table at the impeccably dressed attorney.

  Wendell’s sandy-colored eyebrows rose. He glanced at Lenny, who sat at his left arm, then Morgan, who sat at his right. In front of him was all the evidence amassed via the documents. “There’s no doubt in my mind that there was a coverup,” he began.

  “You’ll take my case?” Morgan asked.

  Wendell grinned. “I wouldn’t miss this one for the world.” Thrusting his hand out to Morgan, he said, “Will you retain me as your attorney?”

  Gripping Wendell’s hand, Morgan nodded. “You bet I will.” He liked the tall attorney whose favorite hobby was playing basketball. There was a hunterlike look in his eyes that told Morgan the mild-mannered lawyer possessed the necessary skills to pursue his case to a successful end.

  Clapping her hands in delight, Laura got up. She poured everyone another round of coffee. “What now, Bill?”

  Leaning back in the chair, Wendell scowled thoughtfully. “There are a number of ways we could proceed. One is through the civil courts right off the bat.”

  “There are other ways, though,” Morgan growled, watching pleasure dance in the attorney’s eyes. “Aren’t there?”

  “You bet there are, Morgan.”

  “What do you advise?” Laura asked, coming over and standing behind Morgan, her hands resting on his shoulders.

  “I think I’m going to make an appointment with Senator Robert Tyler. He’s committee chairman for the defense budget committee. Bob and I go back a long way.”

  “He’s pro-defense. What makes you think he’ll believe this new proof about Hill 164?” Morgan demanded, worried that a pro-defense senator might want to push anything that could embarrass the military under the carpet to keep the money coming into the services.

  “You’ve been gone for seven years,” Bill said. “Bob Tyler is a watchdog of sorts over the military. He can swing for or against them.”

  “Tyler’s a man with a lot of integrity and clout,” Laura added, her eyes shining with hope.

  “Precisely,” Bill agreed. “I want your permission to take depositions from you and Lenny, plus the rest of the proof, to Bob.”

  Morgan saw the joy on Laura
’s face. He wanted to see that same joy when he made love to her for the first time. Gently putting aside that aching need, Morgan nodded to the attorney. “Take it all to him, Bill.”

  “Great.” Wendell got up. “I’ll send a limousine over to pick up you and Mr. Miles in about an hour. We’ll take your depositions and get the ball rolling.”

  Laura withheld the urge to throw her arms about Morgan after Wendell had left. Lenny Miles sat at the table, still wolfing down the cookies she had set there for all of them earlier. If possible, he was even shakier than he’d been—little more than frayed nerves. Laura was afraid Miles might not be fit to give a deposition as he entered the detox phase of becoming drug-free. As soon as his deposition was completed, Miles would be taken to the nearest rehab center for help and counseling. She followed Morgan into the living room so they could have a bit of privacy. Sasha trailed at their heels, panting happily because they were home.

  “Things are falling into place,” Morgan murmured, pulling her into his arms.

  “I’m so happy.”

  “I know.” He leaned over, claiming her smiling lips, cherishing their softness and eagerness.

  The doorbell rang. Morgan raised his head, frowning. “What is this? Grand Central Station?”

  Reluctantly Laura pulled from his arms to answer it. “From here on it, I think it will be.” She opened the door and her heart slammed against her rib cage. “Jim…”

  The marine captain stood grimly before her, his eyes hard. “May I come in, Laura?”

  Cold fear washed over her. Jim Woodward had found what he was looking for; there was no doubt. She stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Jim hesitated. “Is he here?”

  “Yes.”

  Compressing his mouth, the captain entered the house, briefcase clenched in his left hand. His gaze shot to the left.

  Laura shut the door, feeling the electric tension between Jim and Morgan. Without thinking, she placed herself between the two men, who bristled like angry dogs. “We know what you’ve found, Jim,” she began quietly, hoping to defuse the explosiveness.

  Slowly Jim took off his cap, his eyes never leaving Morgan. “You’ve been harboring a fugitive, Laura. His real name is Morgan Trayhern. He’s a traitor to this country.”