"Oh, I fully intend to, darling. But he's not available at the moment, and you are. Beyond that, Smith seemed to be handling affairs better. You seem to be the one with her knickers in a knot. Illuminate me."
This woman was infuriating, or at least that was how she desired to be at the moment. "I can assure you that any dealings I may have had with Colonel Smith in the past will have no effect on our current assignment whatsoever."
"I'll be the judge of that," Metrace replied flatly.
Randi felt her control cracking. "Then you may judge that it's none of your damn business!"
"Keeping my skin intact is my business, Miss Russell, one that I devote a great deal of loving attention to. And right now I am sensing a sour team and a mission aborted before it launches, because of personnel problems. I'm one of the mission specialists, thus, indispensable. I suspect Colonel Smith is as well. That leaves the little helicopter girl to get the black ball. I assure you that you can be replaced, darling. Now, watch me walk out of here and make it happen!"
The confrontation hovered on the verge of critical mass. But both women recognized that if a blow was thrown, it would be no scratch-and-slap cat fight; one or the other or both of them would be dead or critically maimed in seconds.
Finally, Randi took a deep, shuddering breath. Damn this woman and damn Jon Smith and damn herself. But if they were going to be operating together, Metrace had the right to ask and Randi the responsibility to answer.
"Ten years ago a young army officer that I was very much in love with was serving with a peacekeeping force in the Horn of Africa. We were going to be married when he got home. But he contracted something out of the African disease pool, something that medical science was just beginning to recognize. He was evacuated to a Navy hospital ship and placed under the care of an army doctor who was serving aboard at the time."
Valentina relaxed minutely. "Colonel Smith?"
"He was a captain then. He made a misdiagnosis. It wasn't really his fault, I suppose. Only a few tropical disease specialists really understood the illness at the time. But my fiance died."
The silence returned to the room. Randi took another deep breath and went on. "Some time later, Major Smith met my older sister, Sophia. She was a doctor, too, a research microbiologist. They fell in love and were engaged to be married when he convinced her to come and work with him at the U.S. Army Medical Institute for Infectious Diseases. Do you remember the Hades plague?"
"Of course."
Randi kept her eyes fixed on the blandly patterned wallpaper. "USAMRIID was one of the first agencies called in to try and isolate the disease and find a cure. While working with the plague, my sister caught it."
"And she died as well." Valentina Metrace's voice softened into compassion. The test was over.
Randi could meet the other woman's gaze now. "Since then I've found myself working with Jon on a number of different assignments. For some reason we just keep getting tangled up with each other." She continued with a wry, self-derogatory smile. "I've come to recognize that he's a good operative and essentially a good person. I've also come to recognize that what's happened in the past is...past. I promise you, Professor, that I'll have no problem working with him as my team leader. He knows his business. It's only that I have some memories to work through whenever we first come together."
Valentina nodded. "I see."
She turned for the door but paused halfway through the move. "Miss Russell, would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow, before we get on the plane?"
She put no special emphasis on the "we" in the sentence. It was offered as a given.
Randi's responding smile was open this time. "I'd like that, Professor. And call me Randi."
"And Val for me. I apologize for coming on quite so strong. I was a bit uncertain about the scenario. I wasn't sure if I might not be getting caught up in the fallout of some former romantic entanglement."
"Between Jon and me?" Randi chuckled ruefully. "Not likely."
The other woman's smile deepened. "Good."
After Valentina Metrace had left, Randi frowned. There had been no reason for the black-haired historian to look quite so pleased with that last answer she had been given.
Chapter Eleven
Over the Straits of Juan de Fuca