They told Mack Wolf that the man was a bad cop. That took a while to register as he stared at the photograph. For a long while all he could think about was how he needed to have a long talk with his mother really soon. Once his focus returned, Assistant FBI Director Melrose put on an aggressive dog and pony show. His assumptions appeared reasonable. Cascade PD Detective James Ellison had abetted the escape of known criminals seemingly at the behest of this Dominatrix. We knew how many crimes those individuals committed afterward. Wolf could think of no good reason at the time to justify the Detective's actions. The facts made it easy to accept the assignment. Making a Fed as obnoxious as Melrose beg for his help was icing on the cake.

Mack didn't have much use for the Feds. The honest ones were a pain in the ass with their interference and secretiveness. Then there were the occasional crooks who were more dangerous than any ten cops whose hands were in the till. Melrose wasn't a crook as far as Mack could tell. However, he was aware of a personal motivation in bringing down James Ellison. The cop stood between him and an arrest record of the gods. The begging helped. And Captain Herzog promised extra pay plus comp time. He couldn't refuse.

It was after the deal was done that they told him about Blair Sandburg. That nearly queered the whole thing, so to speak. There was a whole lot more leaning and negotiation to get Mack back on board. Melrose was really desperate. Mack got a guarantee of the extra pay and comp time no matter how the mission turned out. That was important to Mack. From the surveillance video, the men were extremely close. He felt he had a chance of faking with Arnaud and he was looking forward to trying. There was a whole lot of doubt in his mind about pulling it off with a man that he didn't know.

Holly had been sympathetic. More so than he thought she'd be. And she was concerned -- the only one who was -- about his safety. Mack was touched at how hard she worked to talk sense into him. Genevieve Arnaud was purported to be very dangerous. Her entourage had to be as well. That kind of intimate betrayal, she reasoned, could provoke extreme violence, even against another cop. Mack appreciated the effort, but the deal was done. And he really needed the money. So two weeks after he learned to function with a broom shoved up his ass and twisted to the right, he was on a plane bound for Cascade.
 
 

Mack was given four hours in the loft before Sandburg was due back from Ranier University. It wasn't nearly enough time in his opinion, but that was all they could spare. He spent only a moment on the balcony staring at the overcast sky. Crummy weather. It reminded Mack too much of Vancouver. He turned his attention to the apartment. He let out a whistle at the size of the place.

"Not bad," he murmured. Ellison had good taste if a trifle understated. He spent the first twenty minutes just checking where household items were located in the event he was able to stay more than a little while. He went through the bedroom. It seemed to be a compromise between the carefree and the psychotically neat. It looked comfortable though.

"A sanctuary," Mack thought.

Sandburg's little office left no doubt as to who the carefree element was in that household. The room was an image of barely controlled mayhem. Mack found himself smiling at the eternal struggle that must occur within those walls. Ellison seemed a lot less black and white to him. A man who was as rigid as he appeared could never survive with this chaos let alone fall in love with it.

A photo collage caught Mack's eye. They were all casual shots of Sandburg's life with Ellison. The photos of them in the loft kitchen caught while preparing a huge meal laughing at something and wearing outrageous floral aprons. In another photo, they were wearing basketball uniforms and standing on what appeared to be a professional court. Again they were laughing. Another was of Ellison alone smiling at the camera from the fireplace. The broom was definitely gone. There was an intense warmth in his eyes that made Mack feel like an intruder during an intimate moment. He hadn't given that kind of look to many people in his life. This added a depth to the relationship he wished he hadn't seen.

The other photos were of Genevieve Arnaud. He had seen ones of her, but these were wonderfully unguarded. His favorite was one of the three of them. Ellison cradled her in his arms as though he'd snatched off the skating path they were on. She was wearing rollerblades, bike pants and a sweatshirt. Her hair was in a wild ponytail. She was laughing. Sandburg seemed to be in the middle of trying not to fall. Ellison was beaming at the both of them.

Mack felt conflicted. He wanted to know more of their secrets to justify what he was there to do, but he felt like the worst kind of intruder. The pay. He concentrated on the extra pay and the evidence already presented. The search continued.

Mack scanned the files relating to Sandburg's education with interest. The man had a brilliant, imaginative mind. Perhaps if he'd had teachers like that, he'd be further in life. He found himself looking forward to speaking with him. Arnaud was a subject he couldn't entertain. She was a living fantasy. He couldn't afford to think about her.

One binder caught his eye. It had the phrase 'Sub Journal' scrawled across the spine in black marker. Mack flipped through the pages. Some were typed. Others were in Ellison's precise hand. He began to read. The content was explosive. It was an incredibly erotic account of the detective's sexual enslavement to Aranud. Everything else -- especially time -- was forgotten as Mack found himself sinking into a chair and reading.

On the final page, Mack read:

So now it comes to you, Commander. You know my history with the Mistress. But I still feel compelled to write. This seems easier than talking to you about my feelings during training. No one could ask for a better listener than you. I am most fortunate. But your eyes get so dark and your breathing catches on certain details. That makes me want to overstep.  I want to hear you moan against my mouth.  With that on my mind, conversation is useless. I am just uncontrollable need.  And the center of my need is you. So I write.

Let me say, my neo-hippy pacifist, you have an affinity for wielding that strap. The heat is so close to agony, but it feels so good. Then, to feel the cool of your hair against my burning skin. I can come from that, if you would permit it.  That tongue is even more torture than the strap. I love that tongue in my mouth or on my ass. It devastates me.

You give me such release, Commander. I may fight it trying to be as absolutely strong for you as I try to be for everyone. But I need you to use that voice against me to make me take my clothes off for you and leave my will on the floor with them. I need you to make me helpless and vulnerable for you. I need to be forced to let go of all control and responsibility for me and my job. I need to be stripped of everything except for what you give me to feel be it pleasure or pain. I await your pleasure.

Mack closed the journal and stood. He needed relief from the pressure in his pants. The account had been as revealing about the detective's lifestyle as it was erotic. Some of his terminology about dials and such eluded him, but most of the journal had a powerful punch. Getting beat up began to sound appealing. Hell, kissing the hippy was beginning to sound pretty good. He'd love to feel anything that hot.

He also knew that Assistant Director Melrose had screwed up. The evidence on it's face was impressive, but his gut told him that this investigation was way off base. And if he was wrong, his meddling could get someone killed.

"Like that's a surprise," Mack thought. "When the Feds screw up, it's usually big."

He decided to play it by ear. Maybe he could find a way to earn their trust and they could figure a way out of this mess together. It was at that moment that a key turned in the lock. Showtime.

The young man came in a flurry of muttering to himself in frustration. Mack remained still. He heard a thud of the back pack and the jangle of keys drop to the floor.

"Jim!" The young man exclaimed. "Why didn't you call? I would have picked you up."

Mack swallowed then turned to face Sandburg.

The grad student was still as he stared at him. "What's wrong, man?"

Mack said nothing as Sandburg crossed the room. Concern was intently evident on his handsome face. His eyes were even more intensely blue than in the photographs. And that mouth was amazing.

The young man was close enough to touch him when he froze searching his face.

"You don't know me, do you?" He asked quietly.

"No," Mack replied.

"Were you hurt?"

"No."

The young man reached out suddenly and touched the side of his face. He attempted to snatch the hand back, but Mack took hold of his wrists gently but firmly keeping it against his skin.

"Who the hell are you?" Sandburg demanded. "Where is Jim?"

"I don't know. I swear. What I do know is that his life depends on this encounter being normal for a man who hasn't seen his lover in days," Mack said with a calm that surprised him. "We are being watched. They can't hear, but they can see quite clearly."

Blair swallowed hard. He didn't resist when Mack pulled him flush and tangled his hand in his hair.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said in his ear. "I won't push. Just relax and make it look like you're into it."

Blair nodded, but he was trembling. He closed his eyes tightly then offered his slightly parted lips to Mack. The detective had no illusions. The young man was terrified and confused and running on instinct. Mack ran a soothing hand up and down his spine as he covered those lush lips. Mack spared him the tonsillectomy, but he did gently explore out of curiosity. He wondered what Holly would think of that. She would kill for those lips, he decided. They felt almost too good.

Mack started kissing down Sandburg's neck.

"I need to get us out of here, so we can talk," he said against the sweet flushed skin. "I need to speak to you and Genevieve Arnaud if we are to help your partner."

The young man almost buckled against Mack. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"Just hang on. He isn't hurt, Mr. Sandburg. He's caught in a bureaucratic nightmare. Just hang on and help me get us out of here," Mack said gently. "Tell me what to do. Please."

Sandburg inhaled then exhaled slowly. "Hold me for a moment or two. Nuzzle my hair as if you're undecided about letting me go... or... or taking me upstairs," the young man said in quiet halting words. "Kiss me once more then caress my face. Grab your coat then steer me out the door. I'll be talking a lot. Pretend like you're trying to listen. This had better be one hell of a good story, man."

Mack did as instructed. Blair sighed during the embrace. "You feel just like him. Jim has got to talk to his father."

Mack smiled into the thick curls. He kissed him again and tried hard to not think about how easy it was. He patted those stubby cheeks then guided the young man out of the door. Blair Sandburg could chatter, but the timber and cadence were oddly soothing.

Sandburg drove the classic Ford truck in silence. Mack only intruded to slow him down or remind him of a traffic signal. The young man was very nervous. Mack didn't want them pulled over. Fortunately, the trip across town was short. They were soon pulling into the garage to a posh townhouse.

"The explanations should start very soon," Blair said quietly. "And they'd better be stellar or I'll be slow in calling 911."

Then, he heard her.

"Blair, darling. I'm glad you decided to accept my offer to stay while Jim... Jim! You've returned," she said as she burst into the room. The woman was incredible -- so vibrant and exotic. She was considering him with amazing green eyes. Then she looked at Sandburg. Then, her gaze returned to him.

"Why are you looking at me as though you've never seen me before? And why is the Beauty so frightened?"

In the next instant, Mack was flat on his back with a sure hand at his throat. He knew enough about martial arts to know that death was near if he moved inappropriately.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" She asked quietly.

"My name is Mack Wolf. I'm from Honolulu PD," he said. "A month ago, the FBI approached me about bringing down a crooked cop."

"Feds," Sandburg said throwing up his hands. "So they've got Jim somewhere in DC while you move in to set him up?"

"Melrose wants access to the Siren," Mack rasped. "If they squeeze Ellison, they get you."

"And my customers," she murmured coldly. "Blair, what do you think of him?"

The young man considered him. "He didn't lie to me. He could have tried."

"Why didn't you?" Arnaud demanded.

"The photographs in Sandburg's room. You were all more complex than Melrose led me to believe... I had a hunch," Mack replied.

"A hunch that Jim is clean?" Sandburg asked.

"Yes," Mack admitted. "Sometimes I'm not what I seem to everyone."

"If he's clean, then Genevieve..." Sandburg said.

"May not be what she seems either," Mack said. "I decided to tell you the truth. If you didn't have me killed, I was right."

Arnaud released him then backed away. "That's some risk, detective."

"I usually have really good hunches," Mack smiled. He moved slowly from the floor to the sofa. "So what do we do next?"

Sandburg ran a hand through his hair. "We will find out all we can about this Melrose. His motives may not be simple ambition. He may be trying to blow Genevieve's cover on behalf of someone. That'll keep us busy until Jim gets here."

Mack was confused. "The Feds will keep him isolated and running in circles until Melrose can nail him."

Sandburg smiled. "They believe that, but he'll be here. He's probably on the way right now."

"Is he a psychic Army Ranger?" Mack asked.

"Where Blair is concerned, yes," Arnaud replied. "For now, you and Blair will stay here. No surveillance will function in this building. Blair will sleep with me. You will stay in the guest room."

Mack sighed. They were both still a little frosty. He supposed that they had a right to be.

"I'll call Simon," Sandburg said.

"Captain Banks? Yes, I suppose you should."

"I'll have my people in DC and New York keep an eye out for him and make arrangements to help him," Aranud said. "I'll also find out what could be going on at the fringes that would have caught this Melrose's attention."

"What can I do?" Mack asked.

"Relax. Have a glass of wine. I'll send for some appetizers," Arnaud said pressing a button on her intercom. She snapped out orders in French. "Banks is insufferable. It's best to have a drink first."

Mack almost smiled at the dry remark. He accepted the glass offered. Sandburg wasn't on the phone long. There was a loud voice at the other end which seemed unwilling to come there without an explanation. The grad student pleaded; paused while holding his breath; then sighed with relief and hung up. Meanwhile, Arnaud was carrying on a series of short conversation in a number of languages while pacing and gesticulating. She was fascinating to watch.

"Food is amazing here," Sandburg said plopping in a nearby chair and snatching up a crab puff.

"I'll say," Mack replied. "Wine's great, too."

Sandburg poured a glass of wine. "Do you have any family in the Northwest?"

Mack laughed. Sandburg smiled.

"I've been asking myself the same thing," he replied. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"S'okay. You thought you were chasing bad guys. Jim would have done the same," Sandburg replied. "Including admitting that he was wrong."

"Thank you for that," Mack said quietly.

Something about his expression caused the young man distress.

"It's not you," he said quickly. "I just wish I knew that he was okay. I wish I knew where he was."

"I could call Melrose... maybe out of concern for the operation, I need to know that Ellison is still sewn up," Mack suggested.

Sandburg looked conflicted. "No. Jim could be trying to slip away. I don't want them scrutinizing him further. I'll be okay."

Mack believed him. The kid had a lot of substance. Still, he was uncomfortable with having a hand in his suffering.

"I'll get some more crab puffs," Sandburg said. "Simon loves them and we'll need something to calm him down."

Mack turned his attention back to his wind and Arnaud's animated phone call which was in Chinese at that point. Then, the kid's cell phone rang. The detective hesitated, then he answered it.

"Yes?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Who the hell is this?" A voice, his voice demanded on the other end.

"Ellison?" Mack asked. "Where are you?"

"I'm not answering any questions from you. Where is Sandburg?"

The kid walked up at that moment. Mack took the tray and handed him the phone.

"I've upset him," Mack said.

"Hello... Jim?... gods, Jim," Blair gasped sinking to his knees. "Are you okay... where are you..... yes, it's the FBI and this scheme is a lulu... yes he really does.... no, I'm fine... I knew.... no, he didn't h-hurt me or any... or anything... the Mistress wants to talk to you... I'm at her place.... hold on."

Sandburg handed the phone to Arnaud. He looked so lost.

"I've had an envelope left for you at the Four Seasons. I doubt those Feds know where that is. It is full of cash. Get a plane as soon as you can. I understand," she said. "I have him and he's safe. You must get off the phone, cherie. The line isn't secure. Yes, you can say goodbye... Blair, make him get off the phone."

"You should hang up, Jim," Sandburg said softly. "Get to the hotel. I love you, too."

He hung up the phone then took a few deep, slow breaths. "Your voice kind of wigged him out. He's very protective of me."

"I can tell," Mack smiled. "I don't relish getting thumped by my twin."

"Just mind your manners around Blair," Arnaud said. "Jim will behave as long as he's not provoked."

Mack could hear bellowing from below.

"Speaking of provoking..." Sandburg said.

"What was so important that I need to come here when I'm one man down..." the words died on his lips when Mack stood up. "Jim what are you doing here?"

"That's not Jim," Sandburg said.

"What?"

"I'm not Ellison. I'm Detective Mack Wolf, Honolulu PD."

" Look I don't have time for games..."

"Captain Banks," Arnaud snapped. "Come, look at this computer screen. It's the web site for the Honolulu Advertiser..."

Banks' face went still. "Nice photo. The explanations are welcome any time now."

"The FBI," Mack began.

Banks threw up his hands. At the end of the story, the Captain gaped at him.

"I've checked everywhere I could with my sources," Arnaud said. "I can't find anything that warrants this kind of attention."

"Because there isn't," Banks said. "We keep a close eye on anything that may affect your work with the department through Interpol and Assistant Director Crenshaw, so no one gets surprised. This is a turf battle between Melrose and Crenshaw. Melrose never approved of how Ms. Arnaud was handled. But he hasn't been able to do anything because of the results of the ongoing arrangement. This is a fishing expedition to oust Crenshaw."

Sandburg was incredulous. "He pulls two detectives from their units and goes through all of this with no probable cause?"

"He could use some of the surface evidence to get an inquiry going if the superiors reviewing aren't privy to the real details -- and few of them are for everyone's safety," Banks said. "But yes, it is trumped up and in addition to the money and the time wasted, he is risking the lives of everyone involved."

"What do we do?" Sandburg asked.

"As soon as I can get Jim away from them, I'm going to the Chief and Crenshaw," Banks replied. "I don't want Melrose fabricating charges against my man while he's got him in custody in an effort to cover his ass."

"Jim called. He's already en route," Sandburg smiled.

"Figures . That's our Jim," Banks chuckled. "Oh, crab puffs."

He looked at Mack closely while enjoying his snack. "This really is incredible. You guys hold yourselves differently, but I only saw it when I looked closely. I can't believe there are two of you running loose. You know, Jim should probably have a chat with his dad."

"I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances, Sir," Mack said.

"Not your fault. I'm beginning to think everyone in the FBI is batty," Banks replied. "I can't wait for you and Jim to meet. Are they literal twins in all traits?"

"No, just appearance," Sandburg replied blushing. "So we just wait for Jim?"

"Nothing else to do," Banks replied. "I'll prepare my case against Melrose. Call me when he gets here."

The grad student popped a crab puff after Banks left.

"Now what?" Mack asked.

"We change for dinner. After that, we go to the club. It will be expected," Arnaud said. "Detective Wolf, you will find clothing in the guest closet. Choose a dark suit."

"Yes, Ma'am," Mack said. He couldn't help smiling.

"Behave yourself, detective. Get ready," she said.

There was no real way to prepare for such a surreal evening. Mack wondered how someone like Ellison could live such a double life.

"Must have been the time he spent in Vice," Mack reasoned. That realm could prepare a guy for anything.

But he couldn't help feeling that there was yet another layer to James Ellison. Banks knew what it was. Sandburg seemed to be at the center of it. Blair had been mumbling things while he paced that Mack couldn't make out. He was really acting weird. The detective was curious, but decided against pushing. Perhaps, if he earned their trust, they would tell him.

So, he enjoyed the French cuisine with Vietnamese accents and the wonderful conversation. Mack was convinced that the pair could speak endlessly on virtually any topic. There were long moments when he forgot the situation that they were in and really enjoyed the company. But it was at the instant he became mesmerized by their beauty and wit that Mack felt guilty over treading on another man's territory,

Club Retro was a little easier for Mack to deal with. He could lose himself in the ambience and be less intensely aware of walking in another man's shoes. They stayed for a few hours. Mack noticed that Arnaud kept Sandburg dancing with her or someone else almost the whole time. By the time they left, the kid was exhausted. He kept nodding off during the limo ride. Mack thought it was a clever maneuver. If he was asleep, he wouldn't be worrying.

Mack was spent as well. It had been an emotionally draining trip thus far. He was looking forward to the end of the ordeal. The Mistress was a little ruffled around the edges, but her eyes still missed nothing.

"Blair, darling, get ready for bed," she said in a gentle tones to the sleepy student. "I'll be in shortly."

Arnaud followed Mack into the guest room. She closed the door then leaned against it considering him.

"I'm curious, detective," she said. "About how much you resemble darling Jim."

"Oh?" Mack replied. This was getting interesting.

"Take off your clothes," she said. It was an order. From any other person the statement would have made him laugh. But she looked at him quietly expecting him to fully comply.

So, he did. Mack stripped down to the buff and stood beside the bed.

"Stand in the center of the room," Arnaud said.

After he moved, she slowly walked around him.

"Remarkable. I didn't think there could be another ass that beautiful on the planet," she murmured. "Such a wonderful gene should be cultivated in some way... Maybe some sort of gene therapy for saggy posteriors. Bend over."

"What?"

"Rest your hands on your thighs and bend over. Then, arch your back," she said with waning patience.

"You're the boss."

She sighed. "Even there... it's exactly the same," she said half aloud. "I must know more."

"More?" Mack squeaked. "You know more than my doctor."

She laughed softly. "Get comfortable on the bed. I want to see you bring yourself off."

Mack was speechless. He'd never done anything like that on command. But something made him want to. Maybe if he complied, she would come play as well. He knelt on the bed in the center of the mattress. Genevieve moved over to the foot of the bed and leaned against one post.

"A body worthy of a Greek god," she sighed. "Satin skin over velvet. Such power in every inch of flesh."

Mack ignored the burning blush growing across his face, neck and shoulders. He grasped his shaft with one hand and played with his nipples with the other. Her gazed became less clinical. It was softer and appreciative. He'd never been considered as an object of beauty. That made it easier.

Mack got into the game more imagining her hands on him moving with just the right amount of speed and pressure to make him so hard it was hurting. When she licked her lips, he imagined that mouth taking him to the root while those dreamy green eyes held his. That was enough. He came hard spurting up his chest. She smiled at him.

"No, detective," she murmured. "I won't be joining you. I entertained the thought of training someone so similar to my favorite slave then... having you both.

"But you are not a hedonist, Mack Wolf. You enjoy physical pleasures well enough, but could never abandon yourself completely to those pleasures. You'd like a little spice to your lovemaking now and then, but not someone like me. I leave marks.

"So, fantasize about me and use those to enjoy whomever holds your heart at home. And I'll go dream of a beefstick sandwich. Goodnight."

Mack swallowed hard. "Goodnight, Mistress."

Mack heard the harsh whispers immediately. He'd left the door ajar and wasn't sleeping that well. He kept dreaming of being beaten to a pulp by someone with his face.

"Jim, come here this instant!" Arnaud hissed.

Mack moved nearer to the door. Through the crack he could see a familiar back as he faced her.

"Mistress... I have to..."

"You have to go to your lover and hold him. That one in there is not your concern until the morning," she whispered.

"But he..."

"He could have done a lot to wreck your life, but he did not. He took nothing from you, Jim. Blair is yours. I am here for you," she said taking his face in her hands. "Do you doubt me?"

His shoulder's sagged as if something had drained from him. "Of course not. I'm so sorry. I've been crazy since I heard his voice on Blair's phone. If he looks like me and sounds like me..."

"Blair knew immediately. So did I," she said soothingly. "And he had enough shared traits with you to not try to deceive. He is impertinent but honorable."

"Okay, Mistress," Ellison said with a sigh. "I'll got to bed. This will wait until Simon gets here in the morning. Are you coming?"

"No, pet. I'm comfortable here. And you need to be alone with your lover. So don't come out until morning," she said kissing him on the cheek.

"Yes, Mistress."

Mack shut his door, climbed into that lovely lightly scented bed then drifted off to sleep.

Sandburg came out first while Mack was having the best experience he'd ever had with a pile of eggs. The kid looked pretty hot: kiss swollen lips, dazed eyes and love bites. The cause of the young man's delirium was the thundercloud behind him. His mirror image was glowering at him.

"Hello, Detective Ellison," Mack said. "Want to call your dad or my mom?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I think we should just show up."

The tension in the room lowered. Mack noticed that Ellison kept Sandburg close enough to almost be in his lap that kept him calm enough. The kid looked very mellow and ready for another round at any moment. Mack tried not to think about that.

"So, other than a family reunion to rival Tennessee Williams, what's next?" Sandburg asked.

"I've taken some matters into my own hands," Arnaud said. "You should have Captain Banks bring the interested parties to my club at 3 pm."

"Mistress?" Ellison asked.

"I've issued an invitation to my tormentor."

Mack spent the morning on the phone with Honolulu. Captain Herzog confirmed that Melrose received an early morning phone call from Cascade then booked a flight due in that afternoon. Holly was relieved at the course of action Mack had undertook and that he was safe. He asked for her to pick him up at the airport in the morning wondering how much he could tell her about what he'd experienced here.

The rest of the day was even more surreal than the day before. Mack, Ellison Arnaud and Sandburg went to the now empty club where they waited at a back table shrouded in darkness. Banks and a man identified as Special Agent Crenshaw joined them. Crenshaw had to quickly swallow his surprise when he met Mack.

"Melorse will be here in a moment," Arnaud said.

"What are we supposed to do?" Crenshaw asked.

"Watch and listen. What to do will become apparent. But let the scene play out," she said quietly. "Anyone want a drink?"

No one did.

"I have a question," Mack said.

"Yes?" Arnuad replied.

"Are things always this weird here?"

"Yes," Arnaud said drily. "This city is on a hell mouth."

"What?" Mack asked.

"Nothing," Banks replied. "I think the rain attracts the eccentric."

They waited just a little while. Melrose was shown inside the room and seated at a table which had the only light on above it. He was served a soft drink and waited impatiently. He was unaware of the others in the room.

"You are here about Mistress Arnaud?" a soft voice said to Melrose from the darkness.

"I am here at her request," Melrose requested. "Show yourself."

"In due time," the voice said. "She did not request you. She would have little use for you. I summoned you here."

"You brought a Federal agent here under false pretenses. Why?" Melrose demanded.

"You interfere in things that you do not comprehend. Mistress Arnaud is of great importance to us. You have evidence to destroy her. This we cannot allow," the voice said.

"I have no evidence," Melrose said. "I stretched the truth to my superiors."

"You sent an imposter to replace her Dearest One. You know her secrets," the voice said. "Tell us who else knows and your passing will be without pain. A mere instant."

"I don't know anything! I was just trying to find out about her activities!" he exclaimed.

"You lie," the voice said calmly. "And not very well. Why would you go through this much trouble for a mere investigation?"

"I w-wanted to advance in the Bureau. I wanted to go to Washington. If I had Arnaud's secrets, I could get ahead faster," he said in desperation. "But I didn't get any yet. There hasn't been time."

Mack was enjoying this. So were Ellison and Sandburg.

But all good things must come to an end.

"I've heard enough," Crenshaw muttered.

"So have I," Banks joined in.

It wasn't a pretty scene. Melrose went from fearing for his life to realizing his career was in ruins. Ellison and Sandburg didn't stay for the whole barbecue. They left with the Mistress after the first agonizing half an hour. Banks drove Mack to a hotel late that night.

Early the next morning, there was a knock at the door. Sandburg smiled at Mack in the early morning sunlight. He looked well loved and happy.

"Jim and the Mistress are down in the restaurant. They want to buy you breakfast," he said.

"He let you come up here alone?"

Sandburg smirked. "Jim has no will against me when I want to do something. He needed to trust me with this or it would damage our relationship. Come on. We'll take you to the airport afterward."

Ellison relaxed when he saw them in a suitable amount of time. Sandburg took a photo of the two men and promised a copy for Mack to show at work.

"I'm hanging one in the bullpen as the ultimate horror: two Ellisons," Sandburg laughed.

"I'll have one of those as well," Arnaud purred. Her eyes twinkled at him. Ellison cleared his throat.

"To the end of interference from the Feds," Sandburg said in a toast. "Until the next time."

Ellison went alone to the gate with Mack.

"Thanks for doing the right thing," he said softly.

"I had to. I guess it's in the blood," Mack replied. "We'll have to look into this, you know."

"Yeah," Ellison sighed. "Like I can keep Blair from doing that. I'll keep you posted."

"Tell them goodbye for me," Mack said. "You're one lucky guy."

"I know. Maybe I'll come your way sometime."

"Great... give me fair warning."

Ellison smirked then ambled away. Mack headed for where he belonged.

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Siren Saga 14: Denouement
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