Always a Thief by Lianne Burwell Drowning Sorrows Book Two sst. Mac. Hurry it up." Mac ignored his partner, who was standing near the study door, keeping an eye out for any unexpected guests. Mac focused on the safe, slowly turning the dial. Vic had learned the skills of a good thief quickly, over the last three years, but when it came to speed and finesse on a lock or safe, Mac still had him beat. If they'd had a larger window of opportunity, though, he would have had Vic try first, for the experience, but they didn't have the time. On the other hand, Vic did a much better job than him at electronic security systems, like the one at the DeSalvo compound. "Relax, Vic," he said under his breath, starting to turn the dial in the opposite direction. "We know we're not going to be interrupted, the security system is disarmed, and I'll have this safe open in just... a..." He gave the dial a last twist, and the safe door popped open. "A jiff. Damn, I'm good." He pulled out a velvet box, and flipped it open, smiling as he poked at the tumble of gems inside. Vic just rolled his eyes, and handed him the bag to fill. Mac didn't bother sorting through the rest of the contents. There would be time to do that when they got home. He just tossed everything into the bag, then shut the safe. He gave the dial a twirl, then carefully returned the setting to its original place. "All right," he said, standing up. "Now we can go." He took a quick look around the study. It was an impressive display of money and taste. The furniture was all antique, of excellent quality, and Mac knew that the artwork on the walls and pedestals would sell for a pretty penny on the black market. However, he left them where they were, even though some of the smaller pieces would be easy to carry away. The whole point to resetting the safe to its original setting, and re-arming the security system as they left, was to delay the discovery of their safe-cleaning, at least long enough to get out of the country. Senor DeSalvo wouldn't know he'd been had until the next time he opened the safe. The trip out of the compound was a breeze. DeSalvo was overseeing an operation in Madrid, so the Barcelona home's security was not as high as it might have been. Vic rearmed the security system, again setting it back exactly the way it had been before. Then they stripped off their gloves and masks and sweaters, sticking them in the same bag as their loot, and they slipped out towards the main streets, just two more American tourists in Spain. "So, Vic," Mac said, tucking an arm around his partner's waist. "We've still got three more days in our vacation. Whatever shall we do?" Vic grinned at him. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find something for us to do." Arm in arm, they headed for the heart of the Barcelona tourist district, and the high-end hotel they were staying in. Life was good. "What is the report on the Sherren Op?" The Director tapped on her desktop, looking at her two chief aides. Dobrinsky, a large, bald black man, checked his electronic datapad. "The Ebola virus was recovered. Gregor Sherren, and two of his men, were killed. None of our agents were injured. The rest of his people are in our custody, currently spilling their guts about everything they know on Sherrin's operations and plans. The virus has been returned to the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. They were most appreciative." "Good." The Director pulled off the wire-rim glasses that she'd had to wear more and more often, recently. She turned to her other aide. "And what is the word from Asia?" LiAnn frowned. The young Chinese woman was only in her mid-twenties, but her eyes were much older. If an observer looked carefully, they would be able to see the faint tracery of scars near the hairline on one side of her face. More scars could be seen one of her hands, below the long sleeves that she wore now. There were more on her arm and back, beneath her clothing. Three years ago, she might have been wearing a sleeveless top, but since the explosion that had left her scarred, and killed her two partners, she had worn only long-sleeved shirts. The Director had tried to convince her that the scars were barely noticeable, unless you know where to look, but LiAnn refused to be convinced. "Director Chiu's death is still keeping things confused. The investigation is ongoing, but it doesn't look like they are going to solve it. It's been nearly a week, without a single valid lead to follow up on." Director Chiu, head of the Agency's China and area operations, had been found dead in his own study. The study was at the center of his compound, with only one way in or out. The door was locked, and a guard was standing outside all night. When Chiu didn't emerge, the next morning, the guard had gone in to find the man. His body was slumped over his desk, a dagger in his back. The dagger was a generic make, available world-wide, and it had been scrubbed clean. No inappropriate, or even unexpected, fingerprints had been found in the room, and the security cameras confirmed that no one had gone into the room. Unfortunately, there were no security cameras in Chiu's office, any more than there were in the Director's own. "Has there been any response to our offer to send someone to help the investigation?" LiAnn snorted. "They said that they were quite capable of running their own investigation, and that we should keep our over-sized, western noses out of their business. The language used was bordering on insulting, without quite crossing over the line." The Director sighed. She had hoped that the Asian office might accept, but hadn't really expected them to. They didn't quite understand that an alternative point of view could be a very good thing. But she couldn't force them to accept. All she could do was watch and wait. "Now, what about that circus that we think is smuggling stolen plutonium?" Victor was checking their security system, while Mac threw his bags in the corner of the entryway, and headed for the kitchen. Victor shook his head at the mess, but ignored it. The system said that there had been no intrusions, so Victor grabbed the discarded bags, and carried them into the main room. Mac was opening up the icebox, pulling out frozen meals. With their travel schedule, it just didn't make sense to keep a lot of fresh food in the fridge. Instead, Victor would periodically spend a couple of days making a variety of meals, then freeze them in one-meal sizes. Mac's cooking skills had improved, but Victor still did the majority of their cooking. "What do you want?" Mac called through the door. "Any of the chicken chili left?" "Yep, but I haven't a clue why you'd want to eat that." Victor smiled. He had learned to make a variety of authentic Chinese-style dishes to Mac's standards, but he also made the dishes he liked. After all, no one said that Mac had to eat them. That was the reason he did the cooking. While he was willing to cook Mac's favorite dishes (though he drew the line at squid), Mac didn't cook anything that he didn't like. Mac emerged, carrying a wine bottle and a couple of glasses. Victor could hear the whir of the microwave heating their meals. Thank god for microwaves. He took the glass that Mac held out to him, and waited for his lover to finish opening the bottle and pour him a glass. One of the benefits of living in the Bordeaux valley—French wine country—was a plentiful supply of excellent wines. Now if only beer were as easy to obtain... "Well, let's see what we've got," Mac said, plopping down on the floor next to Victor's chair. Victor pulled over the knapsack with the contents of DeSalvo's safe. "Well," he said, pulling it open. "We have this." He pulled out the gem case and opened it up. The majority of the gems were the standard diamonds, no doubt intended to be used as untraceable currency in the European underground. Mixed in among the diamonds were a variety of high-quality sapphires and emeralds. Mac pulled out a jeweler's loop to give the gems a closer inspection. After the first couple, he gave a whistle. "Veeerrrry nice stones," he said putting the little eye-piece down. "Those will fetch a pretty price." After all, if they were good enough for DeSalvo to use as currency, they were certainly good enough for two high-class thieves, Victor thought to himself. The next thing checked were the ledger books, and they were a revelation. "Marseilles. A bordello, with client information, an illegal gambling casino, complete with details on which tables are fixed on a given night. And payments to an assassin for services rendered," he read off. His foreign language skills, especially reading, had improved a lot over the last few years. He put the book aside. The other ledgers would, no doubt, include equally damning information about DeSalvo's crime syndicate. Victor shook his head. How could the man be so smart, running one of the top families in Europe, yet still be stupid enough to have the evidence in writing? And he was willing to bet that it was DeSalvo's own handwriting, too. "We'll send these off to Interpol, next time we get the chance," he said, satisfied. Over the years, they had sent similar information in, anonymously. Mac had originally suggested the idea to keep Victor happy, but he thought that Mac got a thrill out of it too, now. Every so often, they would read in the papers about a high-profile arrest or conviction and know that the information they had supplied was crucial in the case. It was a good feeling. "Oo, la, la," Mac said, opening one of the thick envelopes that made up the balance of their 'loot'. He pulled out several photographs. Still in the envelope was a video tape. "Get a load of these, Vic. I didn't think someone his age could be that flexible." Victor took a look at the picture being held out. It showed a prominent German politician in bed with a beautiful blonde. Unfortunately, said blonde was not his equally prominent society wife. "Pack that one up, too. We'll mail it off to the man with a note suggesting that he be a little more discreet in the future." "Right." Mac continued going through the envelopes. Each was marked with a name and money amount. DeSalvo obviously wasn't above a little blackmail. Some of the envelopes would be sent to the victims. Those were the minor indiscretions. Others would be included in the package that was sent to Interpol, when the indiscretions were of the illegal sort. Victor opened one envelope that fell in the second category. The pictures inside showed a businessman in bed, but this one was frolicking with minor boys. The pictures looked to have been taken during a recent EEC junta to Singapore, which the businessman had been a leader of. If the press found out what he'd been doing while traveling on public funds... A ping sounded from the kitchen, and Mac stood up. "Put that away for now," he ordered. "Dinner is ready." Dinner was the chicken chili for Victor, and a spicy oriental beef dish for Mac. His lover even insisted on pulling out the fancy chopsticks for it. As always, he paid extravagant compliments to Victor, suggesting that he should open a restaurant. Victor knew he was exaggerating, but the regular compliment did raise his spirits after those photos. As they ate, they discussed their next job. It was difficult to make a living as a thief without attracting the wrong sort of attention, so they side-lined as security consultants. In fact, they had reached the point where they could make a pretty good living just as consultants. As a result, their criminal jobs were only a handful over the course of a year, with carefully selected targets. This time, they were one of several sets of security specialists providing services at a conference in Amsterdam. The subject of the conference was oil, and there had been bomb threats already. They were to arrange the security for a couple of the formal receptions. All of the preliminaries had been arranged before they had gone to Spain. They wouldn't have bothered with the Spanish job, but a chance to clean out the safe of someone like DeSalvo did not come along very often. So, in two days they would be off to Amsterdam to make final arrangements on the security job. The packages would be mailed from Paris, on their way north. But, until then... Victor smiled at Mac across the dinner table. His own meal was gone, and Mac was just finishing. With a full stomach, he was starting to feel very relaxed. After dinner, by an unspoken but mutual agreement, they did not go back to sorting through DeSalvo's safe contents. Instead, the files were locked in their own safe (which was a lot better concealed. None of this safe-behind-the painting cliche for them.). Once they were done, they climbed into bed. As Victor stretched out, full length on top of his lover, he breathed a small prayer in thanks. They had plenty of money, a beautiful home, and work that they both chose and enjoyed. Life was good. He pressed Mac down, into the mattress, and teased the other man's mouth with his tongue. After nearly four years as lovers, each time they made love was still as exciting as the first. Or at least the first time that they had both been in full possession of their senses. Victor still smiled at the thought that all of this happiness had come about because he had gotten drunk, after being dumped by LiAnn, and dragged his other partner into bed. It had taken time, once he had realized that he was in love with Mac, to convince the other man that he was sincere, but it had been worth the time and effort. A thrust upwards from Mac brought him back to the present. Neither one of them had the energy for anything too complicated, so they settled for a slow rubbing, and exchanging of kisses. The rest would wait until they woke, refreshed, in the morning. By this point, each of them knew the other's body and reactions as well as they knew their own. Sensitive areas were sought out and manipulated. Much spit was swapped (no matter how unromantic that might sound). Coming was a sweet delight. Victor rolled to the side, and reached for the damp cloth that they had left on the bedside table. The worse of the stickiness was cleaned up, then he tossed the cloth into a corner of the room, and wrapped himself around his lover. Mac was already mostly asleep, and rubbed his cheek against Victor's chest, murmuring barely decipherable endearments. Victor rubbed his face against the dark hair, and followed his lover into slumber. Life was uncomplicated. Life was good. That was about to change. Hints of Trouble LiAnn wandered along the park path, following the Director's lead. Normally, a walk in the park with the older woman would be a pleasant interlude in two hectic lives, but today was different. The first death had changed everything. Two more weeks had gone by, and there had been no more movement in the investigation into Chiu's death. In fact, two more directors had been killed, the directors of the South African and South-Western States/ Mexico operations. Security and paranoia inside the Agency had reached an all-time high, and for the Agency, that was pretty damned paranoid. In both cases, the same MO was used. Both directors were killed in their own homes, inside apparently locked rooms, using untraceable weapons. One was killed with a Beretta gun, left behind. The second was poisoned. There were hopes that the method the poison was delivered might provide some clues, but LiAnn wasn't holding her breath. That was why they were in the park to talk. Each new death reinforced the feeling that the killings were an inside job. Someone who knew all the details of the directors' habits, homes and security. They had been discussing options for a while before LiAnn finally asked the one question that had been nagging her for a while. "Di... Just how many directors are there?" LiAnn waited while her companion considered whether or not to answer. Over the years, she'd fallen into the habit of calling the woman Di, short for Director. She still didn't know the woman's real name. Back when she had first started working for the Agency, she and the boys had been ordered to work with a teenaged delinquent whose mother had been a friend of the Director's. She had called the woman "Aunt Di", and the name had stuck in LiAnn's mind. "Thirteen," the Director finally said. "Two each in Asia, South America, Europe and Africa. One each in Australia and Antarctica. Three in North America." Antarctica? LiAnn wondered what there was in Antarctica that the Agency could possibly be interested in, other than a few science stations. Unless... The Agency had funded Dr. Fry's research. He had been hired to develop a drug that would create the perfect agent—at least in the Agency's mind. Absolutely no conscience, willing to kill at an order. Di had objected, and fed information to a woman who kept a conspiracy web-page. Because of that, LiAnn and her former partners had ended up shutting Fry down, and destroying his flawed drug. The Director had set Fry to developing an antidote, both for his three human guinea pigs who'd ended up going on a mindless crime spree, and for himself. The 'drogues', as they'd been called, had addicted him to his own drug in order to force him to make more of the drug for them. Maybe the Agency were doing research at the bottom of the world, where there were fewer prying eyes, fewer chances of failures getting loose. LiAnn shivered, slightly. She didn't like that idea. "An appropriate number," she said with a wry smile, though. The Director grinned at her. "A baker's dozen? Just the right number for a coven? It's been commented on before. But the Head remains above that." LiAnn frowned for a moment. "The Head. Where did he come from?" "No one is quite sure. We don't even know if it's the same person who founded the Agency, originally. He always wears hooded robes, and uses a voice distorter, so I can't even be sure of the gender. Hell, I can't even be sure that I'm seeing the same person from visit to visit. It might be a group of people. Or a series of people." LiAnn was even more disturbed by that. They worked for a person or persons unknown? With an agenda they knew nothing about? And the directors accepted it? Considering what a paranoid lot they were, that didn't seem likely. "Does the Head have anything to say about the deaths?" The Director stopped dead in her tracks, with a worried look on her face. "No one has been able to contact the Head for a while. The last confirmed contact was just before Chiu's death. Since then... nothing." LiAnn was starting to get very worried about this. Either the person behind the deaths had managed to take the Head out, either killing or kidnapping the person or persons, or else... Or else the Head was the one behind this. But why? She told her companion her suspicions, and found the woman unsurprised. "You're not the first person to suggest the possibility, but there's not much we can do, at the moment. All we can do is try to track down the person or persons who committed the murders, and hope that leads us to whoever is behind the killings. And step up security even higher, although that doesn't seem to be doing much good." LiAnn nodded. They had reached the center of the park. Families wandered around, enjoying the sunny afternoon. Children were sailing their toy sailboats in the fountain. The picnic tables were all occupied. It was all so normal. But that can change quickly. Shots rang out. A man standing near the two women went down, blood flowing from the hole in his chest. LiAnn grabbed the Director, and pulled her to the ground, covering her. Frantically, she tried to figure out where the shots were coming from. People were running in panic. LiAnn heard two more shots, and a woman went down. LiAnn noted, in the back of her mind, that the woman was dressed in a style similar to what the Director was wearing. The second shot let her find the shooter. He was running. LiAnn got up and took off after him, gun drawn. As she reached the parking lot, she saw a car pulling out onto the street at high speed. It was too far away to read the license plate. In the distance, she heard the screech of tires, as the shooter narrowly avoided an accident. She was a little confused, though. If this was related to the murders, then whoever had arranged this had decided to change his or her pattern. This attempt did not match the MO of the other killings. "This is not good," panted the Director as she caught up with LiAnn, seeming to echo her thoughts. High-heels were not a good idea when running. "Not good at all. We need more help. Outside help." LiAnn turned at the strange tone in the other woman's voice. "We need Mac and Victor." Mac stood at the edge of the ballroom, in a position where he would have a perfect view of every entrance. The guards that he and Vic had hired for this were all in their proper positions and alert. These were people that they had met in their early days in Europe, when they worked as bodyguards, and every one of them was someone that the two of them trusted. Mac adjusted his tuxedo jacket, and set out to make another circuit. The scanners were working properly, scanning for weapons made of either metal or carbon-fiber. Carbon-fiber guns and knives had been popular with terrorists for a while, but the technicians had finally found a way to scan for them, and their was use declining. Things were stable, now. At least until the next new weapon was developed. "Anything, Jacques?" he murmured in an ear. "Non, Matt. Other than the environmentalist with a balloon filled with oil that she wanted to throw at the Exxon president, it's been quiet." "Good." He continued on his circuit. Exxon was getting a lot of flack in the world press, lately. Yet another one of their oil tankers had run aground, spilling tons of oil into the ocean eco-system. They were blaming the captain, and trying to get out of doing more than the sketchiest of cleanups. Just one more reasons why this conference had so much security. He checked with the rest of the guards stationed at the room's entrances, and checked to make sure that all the doors to the building, other that the main door, were closed, locked and the security systems armed. When he and Vic had arrived in Europe, and had gone into the security business, they had decided that they couldn't exactly use their real names. Instead, they had built identities under new name, making sure that if they slipped and used their real names, no one would notice. So Mac had become Matthew Blake, Matt for short, and Vic had become Richard Thornton, Dick for short. Mac and Vic. Matt and Dick. It had worked, so far. Mac had just finished his rounds when Vic arrived. His partner had been out to check one of their mail drops. Mac stopped for a moment to admire the way that the older man filled out his tux. Vic didn't go in for the dressy clothing the way Mac did, but he looked damn good. They met near the buffet table. "Nothing much. A letter from Alice, though," Vic said, not waiting for Mac to ask the obvious question. Alice was Vic's little sister, one of the few people they'd kept in touch with since leaving the Agency. About a year after their "deaths", they'd contacted her through the aid group she was working with in Indonesia. Despite her frequent moves, and their secrecy, Vic had managed to keep in touch with his sister through the occasional letter. "What's she up to now?" Mac asked, with a smile. "Building bridges in Bangkok? Disarming landmines in Croatia?" Vic frowned. "Don't even joke about it. Actually, she's back in Canada, going to University." "Really?" Mac was surprised. Alice, or Allegra as she preferred to be called, had been avoiding school as much as possible in the time since he'd met her. She said that the school system was designed to churn out happy little consumers, and she wanted nothing to do with it. "What is she studying?" "Political Sciences." Mac could feel his jaw drop in amazement, and Vic's grin said that he looked as shocked as he felt. Mac knew few people who were more anti-establishment than his sister-in-law, as he liked to refer to her as. "My reaction too. She says she wants to 'know her enemy'." Mac grinned in relief. "Now that sounds like her." As they made a pass through the room, Mac noticed something that disturbed him. One of the photographers that had been allowed into the reception, was sweating. Now, it was warm in the room, but this guy was almost dripping. And he was fidgeting more than would be normally expected. "Vic," he whispered in his partner's ear. "See the guy over there in the brown suit and orange tie?" He paused to shudder at the image the man made. He had always loved fine clothes, and the man's fashion sense offended him, highly. Vic took a brief look, careful not to be obvious about it. He was a lot better at that than he used to be, too. "I see him. He's a little too nervous, isn't he?" "Definitely." Mac split off, with a nod, and went to talk to one of the roving guards. When he went back to Vic's side, the guard started to ease his way towards the reporters' section. Unfortunately, the man was so nervous, that he noticed, and assumed the worse. Of course, he was right about that. "Hold it!" the man screeched, twisting the lens off of his camera. As silence fell across the room, he gave the sections of the lens a twist, and Mac could faintly hear the ticking of a timer. 'Not a bomb!' he groaned to himself. 'How the hell did he get that past the scanners?' At that moment, the guard coming up on the nutcases other side tackled the man, and he lost his grip on the lens... bomb... whatever. Screams could be heard as it rolled across the floor. While Vic tackled the downed man, Mac grabbed the lens/bomb and ran for the balcony doors. As he remembered, there was a pool right below the balcony, and there was no one in or around it. He tossed the bomb, then hit the ground, covering his head. A moment later, he was soaked by the water thrown up by the explosion. When he lifted his head and looked around, he found that no one had been hurt. The nutcase was already being carted away by the constabulary. Checking over the edge of the balcony, he winced at the sight of the damage to the pool. The host was not going to like that, and the insurance company was probably going to make them pay for it. Oh well, he sighed to himself. At least they had the money for it. "Matt! Are you okay?" Vic called, heading for him, managing to remember to use the right name. Mac gave a wry nod. "I'm fine. You?" Vic snarled. "I'm pissed off. We're going to have to figure out just how he got that thing past us. This does not look good." Mac sighed, then looked over to where the would-be bomber had been standing. He was greeted by a storm of flashes from the photographers standing there. "Shit." "No kidding," Vic said. Three years of avoiding publicity, keeping their faces out of the papers and news. But now... now they weren't going to be able to avoid it. All they could do was pray that the wrong people didn't see it. LiAnn was staring out the window when the pilot announced that they were about to land in Paris. Despite the long flight from Toronto, she was still wide awake. Her mind was turning over too quickly to let her sleep. What the hell was she doing in Europe? Looking for two dead men, it seemed. Lost and Found "This is your suite, Mademoiselle Tsei. Enjoy your stay." The young man set down her bags and waited, with an expectant look on his face. LiAnn gave the bellhop a generous tip, then turned around to face the room. It was lush and expensive, as befitted the five-star hotel that the Director had checked her into in Paris, but she didn't really see the room, or the view from the window. Instead, she was back in the park, the day before. "What do you mean, we need Mac and Victor? In case your memory is playing tricks on you, they're dead." LiAnn flinched at her own words, and without noticing it, she reached with her hand to caress one of the scars on her other arm. In her mind, she could still hear Victor yelling for them to run, followed by the roar of the explosion. This was followed by pain, and unclear images until she woke in the hospital, more than a day later. The Director looked uneasy. For once, she seemed to be having trouble meeting LiAnn's eyes. "Maybe not. There were things I didn't tell you. We... never found their bodies. Now, the fire was extremely hot, and they might have been so thoroughly cremated that there were no remains to find, but..." "But what?" LiAnn demanded in a tight voice. She was having trouble believing that she was hearing this. "Both the boys had caches. Money, fake ids, clothing, in case they ever decided to leave. They probably thought we didn't know about them, but I knew exactly where they were. A day after the explosion, Dobrinsky decided to check them. They had been cleaned out." LiAnn was beginning to wish she was sitting down, but the Director continued. "We still didn't have any proof of who cleaned out their getaway funds, but I wanted to believe it was them." The Director sighed, then started heading for her car. "The boys never made any attempt to hide the fact that they didn't want to work for the Agency. Hell, I blackmailed them into it. Subtle, and not-so-subtle threats, promises. And you were all at that warehouse because of me. I should have gone along with the three of you, with the idea of setting a trap for Pouchie. If they were dead, it was my fault. So... If they were alive, and leaving, I decided to give them that chance. I had Dobrinsky erase all traces of them from the Agency's files. I couldn't completely protect them, but I could do whatever was possible." LiAnn was shocked, partly by the revelation and partly by the open sorrow of her companion's face. The Director had a reputation for being cold and manipulative, and while she knew that wasn't completely true, Di was a master in managing people, and her own emotions. "Is there any evidence that they are alive?" she asked "A couple of agents have said they saw two men who looked like Mac and Victor, when they were on assignment in Europe. And there have been pictures of dignitaries where the bodyguards in the background might have been them. But no, there's not definite proof." "But why didn't you tell me?" LiAnn demanded, pulling up short as they got near the Director's limo. "Didn't I have the right to know?" The Director looked up into her face, and LiAnn wondered what was showing there. Di took her arm and steered her towards a nearby bench. "There were a lot of reasons not to, and I still don't know if they were right. You were badly injured, and looking at months of rehabilitation, and you didn't need any more shocks. There was no proof that they were alive, and I didn't want to raise your hopes. And... if they were alive, they had chosen to leave. Leave the Agency, and leave you. You were depressed enough, and I didn't know how you would react." Di sat down next to her and started stroking the back of her hand, where it lay on her thigh. It was soothing, and she found herself grateful for the contact. While she was angry that she had been left grieving for three years, without cause, she could understand the reasoning. Hell, she might have done the same thing in Di's place. "Maybe I should have told you later, but you had... adjusted, and I wasn't sure how you would react." Then she stood, and headed for the car. "But this situation isn't good. We're all in danger. The Agency is in danger, and no matter what you might think of its methods, it does good. We need help, and two men that are believed dead are exactly what we need." She turned back to face LiAnn. "We believe that three years ago, Mac and Victor headed for Paris first. I want you to go there, and track them down. Tell them that I am asking for their help. And if they say no..." She turned to open the limo door. "If they say no, come home. We'll figure something out." LiAnn pulled a change of clothing from her suitcase, and went to shower. She stood under the warm spray and wondered what she would say to Mac and Victor, assuming she found them. The Director was right about one thing. She did feel abandoned by the fact that they had never bothered to contact her. Three years, without a word. She would have thought that they were closer than that. Still feeling jetlagged, but far more relaxed, LiAnn headed back to the sitting room to plan her next move. All she had were rumors of sightings. It was going to take a minor miracle to find two men in Europe. Especially two men who didn't want to be found. She ordered room-service, and picked up one of the Paris newspapers, left by the hotel for their guests, to read while she waited. The picture on the first page nearly made her choke. Mac. Sopping wet. Wearing a tuxedo. And Victor in the background. She scanned through the article, translating from the French easily. There had been an attempted hostage-taking at a meeting of oil companies and producers in Amsterdam the night before. A radical environmentalist had managed to sneak a new type of grenade in, disguised as a camera lens, using legitimate press credentials. He had been thwarted by the quick thinking and reflexes of Matthew Blake, a security consultant. Blake and his partner, Richard Thornton, were in charge of the security at the reception where the incident occurred. Matthew and Richard. Matt and Dick. Mac and Vic. How appropriate. Well, she'd been thinking that it would take a miracle, and here it was. She had her starting point. There was a knock at her door. Breakfast had arrived. She signed the slip for it, and sat down to start eating. She didn't really taste the gourmet fare, though. She was too busy making notes about her next move. Mac opened the door, and Victor disarmed their security system. It had been a long week. Talking to the Dutch police, the conference organizers. Figuring out how the man had gotten an explosive device past all the security scanners. It was quite ingenious, in fact. To a scanner, the lens looked like just that. A camera lens. But twisting one of the parts, as though focusing the camera, was the equivalent of pulling the pin from a grenade. There was no way that conventional scanners would have caught it. And then there were the other two receptions that they were providing security for. They'd had to come up with a few new twists to make sure that no more grenades-in-disguise made it in. They weren't really surprised that everything had gone smoothly. After all, who in their right mind would try something after a failed attempt? But paranoia had already been raised to new heights. Victor turned from the control panel, just as Mac dropped their laundry bag in a corner of the hallway. It could wait. He couldn't. "I swear," Mac was grumbling. "If I don't see a tux for three months, it'll still be too soon." Victor growled in agreement—although it wasn't something he heard from his clothes-horse partner very often—and pinned the unresisting man against a handy wall. God, but he loved the man. Mac just snorted, and grabbed the back of Victor's head, then pulled him in and kissed him hard. "I kinda figured you'd be horny. Danger always does that to you, and we haven't had the time for more than a quickie since the reception. So... Are we going to the bedroom, or do want me right here?" "Right here, I think," he replied with a grin. He dived in again to capture that gorgeous, grinning, seductive mouth, and was just starting to rub against the increasingly aroused body of his partner, pulling at his shirt buttons, when they heard a throat clear. Both of them drawing their guns, they whirled towards the living room door. They stood in shock at the sight. For long moments, no one made a sound. Finally Mac spoke up, one hand coming up to pull his shirt closed. "LiAnn?" Mac tumbled into bed, feeling like he'd just gone three rounds with a heavy-weight boxer. Physically, he was rested and strong. Mentally... Vic joined him, crawling under the covers. Mac rolled over, into his lover's arms. LiAnn had left for the night, gone back to her hotel. They hadn't given her their answer yet, but Vic had already said he wanted to go, and Mac had reluctantly agreed. Still, he was uneasy. "Are we doing the right thing?" "I... don't know," Vic replied. "I just know that it's what I need to do. You don't have to come, Mac." Mac glared at him, then gave him a gentle slap to the side of the head. "Riiight. Like I'm going to let you go back to Canada on your own. I don't think so. Wither thou goest, love, and all that bullshit." Mac smiled at Vic, but the smile faded. Coming home to find LiAnn waiting for them had completely disrupted the new life they had built together. Hearing that the Director had known they were alive, and had covered up for them had been surprising, but not completely so. And... gratifying, knowing that she cared so much. But it was still scary, just how easily they had been found. Hearing about the problems within the Agency... Directors killed. Their director the target of a near assassination... Mac sighed. Vic was right. They needed to do this. Sure, they hadn't wanted to work for the Agency. They'd taken the first chance they got to get away. After all, the Director had threatened to have the prison release Mac onto the streets of Hong Kong, where his life expectancy would have been measured in minutes. And Vic... well, the life of a cop in prison was about the same, which is why he'd been in solitary when she'd seen him. But it had given them a second chance. An opportunity to do good, even though it often seemed more like almost an accidental by-product of what the Agency did. And... it had brought them together. If it hadn't been for the Agency, they probably would have never even met, and Mac shuddered at the thought. But still, that was a part of their lives that they thought that they'd put behind them permanently, and he was still resenting the intrusion. "You know," he told Vic, rolling on top of the older man. "You have this depressing habit of being right. We do owe her, and while I don't give a shit about what happens to the Agency, I do care about what happens to the people. The Director, LiAnn, Nathan, Murphy and Camier, Jackie. Hell, I even care about what happens to Dobrinsky!" Vic snorted at the fake tone of amazement that Mac was using. "So we both go?" Vic asked. "We both go," Mac confirmed, then dipped his head for a lingering kiss. "Now... where were we?" Mac looked at the wall, above the headboard of their deliberately over-sized bed. He cocked his head to the side. "About to take a nap?" Victor snickered. "Doing the two weeks worth of laundry?" Vic rolled them over, and started nibbling at the sensitive skin beneath his left ear. "Try again, gorgeous." "I know!" Mac said brightly. "About to have some nuclear-meltdown sex?" "Bingo," Vic growled, before kissing him senseless. Mac stretched and purred, as Vic slowly rubbed his body all over his partner's. Sometimes Mac wondered why he was never bothered at being held down by Vic. You would think that it would give him panic attacks, considering the ways that his foster-brother Michael had restrained him, back when they were teens. In fact, with his bad experiences, it was a wonder that he was able to even think of having sex with another man at all. But it wasn't just another man. It was Vic. Vic, who had saved his life countless times. Vic, who was endlessly patient with him while he was still getting over the memories. Vic, who loved him in ways he didn't know were possible. Vic, who he loved in ways he didn't even know he was capable of. Mac had been in love with LiAnn, back before they left the Tang Family, but what he had felt for her paled in comparison to what he felt for Vic. Mac smiled. "Have I told you lately just how much I love you?" "Hmmm. Yes, but I can never hear it often enough," Vic replied. Then he was slithering down Mac's body, going for maximum contact all the way, until he reached the erection that was arching up over Mac's belly. "Of course, this fellow tells me every day," he added. Mac gasped as Vic's breath caressed his cock. Warm air was followed by a warmer tongue, which bathed every square millimeter of flesh. After more than three years of learning his reactions, Vic was far too good at this. He knew just what touches and caresses would reduce Mac to quivering jelly, something he did on a regular basis. "Vic..." he breathed, then yelped as his partner's mouth descended to swallow him whole. "Oh god, Vic. Please." His partner raised his head, a wicked grin on his face. "Please what, Mac?" he asked, tracing lazy pattern's on Mac's balls with a fingertip. Mac didn't have the breath to answer, so he simply spread his legs, in an open invitation that he knew Vic would never turn down. And he didn't. Lube was retrieved from the bedside table, and Vic prepared them both, ever so carefully. Then he was pressing in, filling the space that always felt empty when they were apart. Mac had trouble remembering that there had ever been a time when this had scared the hell out of him. But now... Now the only thing better than having Vic inside him this way was being inside Vic. It was perfect. It was right. It was everything he wanted. And he was scared that he might lose it. Mac lay in bed, curled up against Vic, looking out into the darkness. He should sleep. In the morning they would be packing for the trip to Canada. But sleep wouldn't come. In a way, making love tonight had been like saying goodbye to their home. They'd gotten away from the Agency once. Who knew if they would again. And even if they did return to Europe, it probably wouldn't be safe to come back to this house. They'd been found here once, after all. They'd been so happy here, and Mac worried that they wouldn't have another chance like this again. He spooned up around Vic, waiting for the dawn to come and worrying. Nothing would ever be the same. Questions and Answers The Director shuffled the papers in front of her. She hated keeping information on paper, but it was safer than electronics now. "Any trace on the hacker who nearly got in?" She asked the blonde sitting in front of her. Jackie Janczyk shook her head. "Nothing. Nathan is still working on it. All he can tell us at this point is that the person was trying to get into the personnel files. He's also working at beefing up our firewall, whatever that is." The Director gave a small smile. Jackie still stuck to her old image of the teenaged valley girl mob queen, but in the three and a half years since the Agency had brought her in, after bringing her down. But despite the act, the girl was brilliant. She soaked up knowledge, the way a sponge soaked up water. If she ever started picking up decent people-skills, she would be a force to be reckoned with. But after her attempt to take over the Janczyk Family had ended with her in jail, and the family dissolved, she avoided leadership roles at all costs. "If he finds out anything, I want to know," the Director said, tapping one fingernail on the desktop. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable. In the week since the attempt on her life, she had kept to the headquarters, rarely leaving except to go home and sleep. Between Jackie and Dobrinsky, she was almost never left alone. She was beginning to feel like a rat in a maze, and she did not like the feeling. And the fact that personnel files were targeted might indicate that someone out there knew just what she was doing. Who she was calling on for help. Jackie nodded. "Any word yet from LiAnn?" she asked, careful not to say anything about where LiAnn was, or why she had gone. "She'll be back tomorrow evening," the Director respond, a faint tone of satisfaction creeping into her voice. Jackie grinned back at her. It wasn't just that LiAnn was the one person able to rein in the Director when she was off and running, according to Jackie and Dobrinsky. The fact that she was coming back after only a week said that she had found Mac and Victor. And the tone in her voice when she had called had told the Director that she was successful in convincing them to come back with her. The Director was looking forward to seeing both men again. It wasn't just that she needed their help. It wasn't even the fact that she was attracted to both men. She smiled briefly at the memory of how much fun it had been to tease Mac, even though he was obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed by the attention. And it wasn't even the need to apologize for the last time they had been together, when she had almost gotten them killed because her own pride wouldn't let her take on Pouchie in a more sensible way. No. She wanted to see what sort of men they had become on their own. What were they doing. Were they still happy together. If she didn't know better, she'd think that she was taking an almost maternal interest in their lives, and maternal was the last word anyone would ever use to describe her. Maybe, when all this was over, they wouldn't cut themselves off quite so thoroughly again. Somehow she doubted she'd be able convince them to come back to work for the Agency, though. Then she grinned to herself. She was going to have to find something... special to wear to their reunion. Something very special. LiAnn wandered through the house that the two men shared, wondering at how much a home it seemed. Back when they were in the Agency, the boys had both lived in apartments assigned to them, just like she did. Those apartments had never felt like more than a temporary resting place. This house was home. But this place... To those accustomed to modern hotels and condominiums, it would probably look shabby, but LiAnn found herself envious. It was a small stone cottage that they had updated to modern times. The plumbing, electrical and security systems were all top of the line. But the floors were stone, covered in worn rugs that looked like they'd been found a flea markets. The walls were whitewashed plaster, cracked in spots. The fireplace obviously got used a lot, as did the modern kitchen. Victor was out back, making sure that the generator was fueled, and ready to pick up in case of a power outage while they were gone. LiAnn wandered into the one bedroom, where Mac was packing their bags for the trip. She could see the signs of domesticity there, especially. The armoire was open, and there didn't seem to be any separation between Mac's clothes and Victor's. On a table, up against the wall, were pictures of the two of them together, all over Europe. Mixed in were pictures of Victor's little sister. LiAnn started feeling a little upset again, when she realized that some of those pictures had to have been taken since they had left the Agency. Why had they kept in contact with Alice, but never let her know that they were even alive? "Hey, LiAnn. We'll be ready in a couple minutes," Mac called from the bathroom that was obviously an add-on to the bedroom. He came out and dropped two shaving kits, and other toiletries on the bed. LiAnn found herself blushing when she recognized a tube of lubricant and condoms in the jumble. She picked up the tube, then looked at Mac. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked. "Why did I have to find out from Jackie that you two were... together?" Mac blinked at her in surprise. "Jackie? How the hell did she know?" "The business with the Rivers. Did you think we showed up in time to save you by accident? The Director was suspicious, so she assigned Jackie to monitor you. Did you know the apartments were bugged? Anyway, she got more of an earful than she expected. Later on, she got me to listen in. I think she just wanted to upset me." Mac frowned at the suitcase lying open on the bed. "Damn. We swept for bugs and cameras on a regular basis. I guess we missed one." "But why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends, at least. Did you think I'd be upset?" Mac sat down on the bed, and patted the spot beside him. LiAnn sat down next to him. "It's a little hard to explain." LiAnn waited patiently while Mac collected his thoughts. "The first time we ended up in bed together was the night you... dumped Vic. He got drunk, and I took him home. The next thing I knew, he was dragging me into bed. He didn't remember anything the next morning, so I thought that was it. "But he figured it out, and decided he wanted a relationship. Basically, he seduced me. Pursued me until I gave in. But for the longest time, I told myself it was just sex. A fuck-buddy sort of relationship. It took a while for him to convince me that he really was in love with me. I finally figured out that I was in love with him when I was stuck in the coffin, listening to the gunfire, wondering if I was going to be shipped to Hong Kong. "We were going to tell you, after that. We had both decided we were in it for the long haul. But before we could, Michael turned up, and everything went crazy. Then we had the chance to go, and we took it. "The only person we got in contact with was Vic's sister, cause we knew she wouldn't tell anyone." Mac smiled. "She's got this major distrust for anything organized. Especially secret government agencies. But contacting you would have been too dangerous. Besides... we weren't sure that you'd want to hear from us." "Of course I did! I spent three years grieving!!" At least Mac had the decency to look ashamed at that. Then he continued. "And along with everything else, at the end, there was Michael. You were so ready to trust him. Anything I said, you chalked up to me being hostile towards him, but I couldn't tell you why. You wouldn't have believed me." "Believe what?" LiAnn asked, feeling cold at the slightly pained look on her former brother/lover/partner's face. "Back when we were teenagers, before you and I happened, Michael and I were... well, I lovers is not the right term for it. What he did to me had nothing to do with love. It was pain and domination and a lot of other things, but it was not love." LiAnn blanched. She could not be hearing this. Mac stood up and started packing the last of his and Victor's bags. "It ended about the time I convinced Father to let me have my own place. I said 'no' a couple of times, and Michael lost interest. You and I became lovers." He looked up at her. "That was why I worked so hard to convince you to leave with me. I knew what sort of a person Michael was. I didn't want to go through the same sort of thing that I did. "So there I was. Ready to tell you about me and Vic. But Michael turns up, and you were so ready to believe he was telling the truth, that he had reformed, and I couldn't trust him. But if I told you, I was sure you'd say I was lying. Either that or try to convince me that he had changed that part of his personality too. Hell, he even had Vic fooled briefly, and Vic knew about what he'd done to me. But I couldn't believe that he'd really changed. "You know," he said, zipping the carry-on bags and closing the suitcase. "Vic and I figure that he was the one behind Chang getting out of jail and into Canada. After all, the Tangs have the power to arrange that sort of thing, and Michael knew better than anyone else how to find me." "I... never thought of that," LiAnn said, head reeling. She didn't want to believe this, but it made too much sense. He was right about Michael having the power and knowledge to set Chang after Mac, and when she thought about it, she could remember strange moods, sudden temper flares and all the signs of stress in Mac, back when they were still teens being trained as thieves. How could she have not known? How could she have been so blind? She went to Mac, and wrapped her arms around him. She couldn't think of anything to say. After a moment, Mac returned the hug. There was a cough from the door, and they turned to see Victor. LiAnn was worried, for a moment, that he might be upset to see his lover with his arms around their mutual ex-lover, but he was smiling. "Ready to go, folks?" he said, heading to pick up the suitcase from the bed. He stopped briefly to give LiAnn a hug, and Mac a kiss. It wasn't an 'I want to fuck you' kiss. It was just an 'I love you' little kiss, the sort you see married couples exchanging. LiAnn felt a brief surge of jealousy, again. "Yep," Mac said, picking up the carry-on bags. "Let's go." They stopped at the door, while Victor armed the security system, then they climbed in the car for the drive to Paris and the international airport there. LiAnn accepted a drink from the flight attendant with a smile, then sank back into her seat. The plane was mid-way over the Atlantic, headed for Toronto. Mac and Victor were also en-route, but taking a different route, in case she was being watched. She was still amazed that she had actually found them. If it hadn't been for that one news article, she might not have. She was also surprised that they had actually agreed to come back to North America. They were so obviously happy together, here. They'd made a home, and a life. She gave a small smile, thinking about that life. Security consultants, she could understand. Finding out that they also worked at thieves had left her with an undignified case of the giggles. She hadn't giggled like that since she was a child, and that was a very long time ago. And the Robin Hood part of it... Targeting criminals and sending evidence to Interpol. That was so much like both of them. Victor would do because he had been a cop. Mac would do it for the sheer flamboyance of it. It was just so appropriate for the both of them. She was glad that they'd kept up their skills, though. What was waiting for them, back in Canada, was going to be a test of everything they knew, everything they were. She just prayed that they were all up to it. Travel Plans by Lianne Burwell Mac tried to relax into his plane seat, but coach was not exactly a place for being comfortable. Not that it seemed to be bothering Vic. His partner could sleep anywhere. He looked adorable when he was asleep, too. His hair all spiky, and his mouth just slightly agape, soft snoring noises coming from it. LiAnn was probably already in Toronto, flying direct and first class. But they had all worried that they might be watched, so Mac and Vic were taking a more circuitous route. They had driven to Berlin, and flown on a commuter flight to London. From there is was a cross-Atlantic flight to Dallas. Now they were flying coach from Dallas to Montreal, where they would rent a car for the drive to Toronto. Mac was hoping that Vic would agree to stopping for the night in the hotel at Mirabel Airport, because by the time they landed, he was going to be wiped. Vic, though, was probably going to be completely rested. "Mac, relax." Mac jumped in his seat as the hand came to rest on his. He had thought that Vic was completely asleep. "Sorry. You know I hate to fly." Vic gave a little laugh. "Liar. You're worrying. You do it all the time, until when we're on the job. You were a born worrier. It's going to be all right." "How can you say that?" Mac said, twisting in his seat to look at his partner. "It took a miracle to get away from the Agency before, but now we're walking right back into the lion's den. They won't let us get away twice." "You don't know that. The Director let us go once. Now she wants our help. I think she'll let us go a second time." Mac slumped back. "If she has any say in the matter. I'm not going to go back to working for them again, Vic. I won't." The hand holding his tightened, and Vic reached over with his other hand to turn Mac's face towards him. "I know. I feel the same way. But whatever happens, we do it together, right? You and me." Mac found a faint smile inside of himself. "You and me," he replied, then leaned over to kiss Vic. It was a long, leisurely kiss. Reassurance, love, passion and friendship, all mixed together with a healthy dose of tongue. Mac could hear the jerk in the seat across the aisle making gagging noises, but he didn't give a shit. Finally, they broke apart and just looked at each other for a long moment. Then they were interrupted. "Would you like something to drink before we serve dinner?" Mac turned to the stewardess to order. He needed a stiff one. It was going to be a long flight. LiAnn dropped her suitcase in a corner, then threw herself into an armchair. She was exhausted. Long flights always tired her out. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't been able to sleep at all. She'd been playing the conversation with Mac in her mind, over and over again. "Did you find them?" She turned her head to look at the Director, who was standing at the bedroom door. "Yes. They'll be here in a few days. They decided to take a different route, just in case. Any news here?" "There's been another attempt. This one unsuccessful. The director for Western Europe was nearly killed in her study. That attempt matches the MO of the killings. Her department works from an underground complex beneath an office building in downtown London. Only one entrance, guarded. She went into her office, through the only door, and sat down. Then she was attacked from behind. "Unlike the others, she was able to fight her attacker off long enough to scream for help. When her guards came through the door, the attacker let go of her and rushed them. He got past, into the hallway, then disappeared. They're still not sure how he got out." "He? They're sure it was a man?" "As sure as they can be. He was built like a man, but that could be a disguise. He was dressed in black, with a ski mask, so the only description they had was that he was about 5'11". Other than that, still no clues." LiAnn sighed. She had been hoping that something would have been discovered while she was away. The guys were going to be walking into a minefield without even a metal detector, at this rate. "So, how are the boys?" The Director's voice was a study in non-chalance, but LiAnn wasn't fooled. "Happy. Together. Not happy about coming back, but they feel that they owe it to you." "I'm glad. That they're happy, that is. What about you?" LiAnn closed her eyes. "Conflicted. Glad that they're alive. Angry that they never told me. Glad that they're happy. Jealous at how happy they are. Upset at myself for being blind. Did you know about what happened between Mac and Michael?" The Director sighed. "I had my suspicions. It didn't stop me from being fooled by Michael, though. You can't blame yourself for not knowing. Michael was a master of deception, and Mac... well, Mac was very good at hiding his emotions." "Not any more. The Mac I saw this week was very open. Confident, where he used to be brash. Showing his emotions, where he used to hide behind walls so well constructed that you didn't even realize that that was what you were really seeing. He's changed a lot, and for the better." LiAnn felt a hand reach to cup her cheek. "Can you work with them? If you can't, say so, and I'll let Jackie be their contact." She leaned into the hand, eyes still closed. "That... might be a good idea. I hope there won't be a problem, but I don't know. I don't think I'd be working at full efficiency around them." "Fine. Of course, admitting that is the first step to dealing with it." LiAnn opened her eyes to look at the woman crouched in front of her. "How did you get so wise?" she asked, only slightly sarcastic. The Director smiled at her. "Experience. Lots and lots of experience." She leaned forward and brushed her lips against LiAnn's. LiAnn didn't respond for a moment, then melted into the offered embrace. This wasn't what she had expected in life. It wasn't even what she had expected, before that nightmarish stay in the hospital, when she had felt like she was carved from ice. After her release, she hadn't been able to take care of herself yet. Instead of insisting that she move in with Jackie, again, Di had brought her home. For the next few months, she had personally made sure that LiAnn ate, did her exercises, went to her therapy sessions, both physical and mental. And when LiAnn woke in the middle of the night, screaming from the nightmares, the Director was there to hold her, comfort her. That was when she'd gradually moved to calling the woman Di. Maybe she should have seen it coming. In retrospect, Di had obviously made no attempts to hide her interest in LiAnn. But LiAnn had only seen a motherly/bossly interest in making her the best agent she could be. Then one night, after a particularly bad nightmare, Di had held her, stroked her, murmured reassurances, and finally kissed her. Maybe, under other circumstances, she would have refused. But the nightmare was too fresh, and the comfort was too welcome. They had slept together before, but that night was the first time that they had slept together. Momentarily lost in her memories, she almost didn't notice as her lover pulled her to her feet, and led her to the bedroom. Slowly, she was undressed, then pressed back into the bed. Soon she was joined by an equally naked body. Sometimes she wondered what the Director's motivation was for this, but usually she didn't care. When she needed her, Di was there. She was being kissed again. A gentle control, unlike a man's kiss. The flesh that pressed against her was firm, but rounder, softer. The lips moved down her neck, carefully tracing the path of her scars. She hated them, but Di made them feel beautiful, a proper part of her, if only for a while. The lips continued on to suckle at her breasts, coaxing her nipples to full hardness. She twisted on the sheets, gasping. She could already feel the pressure building, as finger reached for her clit. The small nub was stroked and rolled between fingers, before a mouth descended, and a tongue began its magic. She could feel her orgasm building. Her toes curled, and her muscles tightened. Then she cried out as everything seemed to pulse. She lay gasping, as Di moved up to kiss her. She could taste herself there. And after a moment's rest, she was ready to return the favor. Klaus von dem Eberbach of Interpol sat at his desk, smoking a cigarette while he read the report sitting in front of him. Word had just come in that two surveillance targets had left Europe for North America. Normally, he wouldn't care. After all, the Americas were outside his jurisdiction. But these two... Matthew Blake and Richard Thornton were definitely an unusual case. They were thieves, but their targets came exclusively from the criminal classes. They had been tentatively linked to break-ins at the homes of the heads of several of Europe's most powerful crime families. Interestingly enough, within a month or two of those break-ins, information on those syndicates' operations arrived at Interpol headquarters in anonymous packages, complete with proof. No two packages were mailed from the same city, but the connection was obvious to those who were looking. Interpol was looking, and after the third package, they made the connection. At that point, Eberbach was assigned the case file. Eberbach grimaced at the file. He thought that he'd gotten away from this sort of thing when he'd transferred to Interpol from the Intelligence branch of NATO. In Interpol, he could concentrate on putting thieves behind bars, he'd thought, not working with them. But here he was again. Told not to interfere with two thieves, this time. They were too useful to put behind bars, he was told. And they were gay, too. At least they seemed focused on each other. The last thing he needed was another... Never mind that. He preferred not to think about that little problem. But now Blake and Thornton had left the continent, changing their names along the way. Mac Ramsey and Victor Mansfield had landed in Montreal, Canada, and rented a car. It looked like their final destination was Toronto. Toronto. Their files suggested that Toronto was where they had come to Europe from. But for the last three years, the furthest they had gone was the middle east. So why were they heading back to Canada? Why now? It was a mystery, and Eberbach hated mysteries. He stubbed out his cigarette, then picked up the phone and told the travel department to book him on a flight to Toronto. Whatever those two were up to, he was going to find out. Reunions It was a dark and stormy night. Well, actually it wasn't. It was night, yes. And it was cloudy. But there hadn't been any rain for a week, and none was predicted for at least another two days. Still, the anticipation in the air was like the atmosphere right before a thunderstorm. The Director waited outside the burnt-out remains of the Viceroy Soy Mill. Nothing had been done to either fix or tear down the blackened shell of a building since the explosion that had destroyed it, and nearly killed her three favorite agents three years ago. On the other hand, the building had been derelict for years before that, so the owners obviously didn't care. In a way, this was the perfect place for this meeting. Not because it was difficult to spy on people here. Not because it was away from the Agency. No. Because it was all too appropriate for her first sight of her two former agents to be in the same place that she last saw them. The place ] where she had nearly gotten them killed. The Director found herself pacing as she waited. Part of her was certain that they weren't going to show. Part of her was worried that they would. She was nervous, and she hated being nervous. Out in the shadows, Jackie and Dobrinsky were prowling, making sure that there was no one in the area that shouldn't be there. She gave a brief smile. None of them were supposed to be there. After all, the site had been condemned as unsafe. LiAnn was leaning against the car, a picture of calm. Only someone who knew her well would see the coiled tension. The Director felt a flash of tenderness. In many ways, LiAnn was a much stronger person than she had been three years ago, and that was a very strong person. But in other ways, mainly emotionally, she was far more fragile. Perhaps she'd been wrong to hide Vic and Mac's survival from the young woman, but that was water under the bridge. It was too easy to look back and say 'I should have', when the time for decisions was past. Given the chance to do it all over again, she would probably make the same decisions. A car growled in the distance, and LiAnn came to her feet. They both looked towards the parking lot entrance and saw the car pull in. When the two male figures got out, everything blurred for a moment, as though seen through a pool of water. She shook it off, then gave a small smile. "Hello, boys." Mac had a bad case of the jitters. Victor could tell. He had finally relaxed enough to sleep on the plane, but when they got to bed, at the hotel after landing, he hadn't slept at all, as far as Victor could tell. Instead, he had tossed and turned, until Victor had wrapped himself around Mac, holding him down. Pure self-defense. He couldn't sleep next to all that movement. Okay, who was he kidding? He needed the contact just as much as Mac. So here they were. Back at the scene of the crime. In his mind's eye, he could still see the flames, hear the explosion, feel the force that had knocked them off their feet. It was a miracle that they had survived at all. Over to the side was the spot where Michael's car had exploded into flames, killing the man. He wished that he had been the one to kill the sonofabitch, but rescuing Mac had been far more important. At least they knew for sure, this time, that the man was dead. From Europe, they had checked to make sure that a body had been recovered, and positively identified. The bastard was not coming back from the (apparent) dead a second time. And just a short distance away was the alley where they had sat, discussing the future, deciding to make a run for it. It had probably been the scariest decision of his life. Scarier that leaving home, or fighting the corrupt cops who ended up framing him and put him in jail. No, that had been the scariest decision of his life and definitely the best choice he had ever made. They were waiting. He could see LiAnn and the Director, standing next to a non-descript car that must be LiAnn's. The Director, he remembered, had a preference for chauffeur-driven limousines. They were waiting, but he didn't care. He turned and pulled Mac in for a hard, thorough kiss. "I love you, Mac. I can never say that often enough. Whatever happens, remember that." Mac smiled, and caressed his cheek. Then they got out of the car, and headed for the waiting women. The Director stepped forward with a smile. "Hello, boys." They looked good, the Director thought. Both of them. And LiAnn was right. Even though he was obviously nervous, Mac looked stronger, more confident, than he had before. The wounds that had made him so fragile when she recruited him were healed. And Victor. He had always been confident, but uptight. A man who wasn't sure what he really wanted. Now he looked relaxed and happy. Like a man who had everything he wanted in life. She wished she could take credit for molding them into the men they had become, but she couldn't. All she had been able to do was set them free to find out who they were, what they could be. She was glad that they had. "Thank you for coming," she told them. "We owed you," Victor said, to her surprise. She quirked an eyebrow in question and he grinned. "If nothing else, we never would have met, if it weren't for you. For that alone, we're in your debt." She shook her head. Time to get down to business. "Not anymore. Right now, I need your help. LiAnn told you the basics about what is going on. Things are getting worse. There has been another attempt on a director, this time in London. It failed. And since we added security to the computer systems, someone has tried to break into the files. They were trying to pull the Agency personnel files when they were shut out. I think that whoever it was might have known I had called for you, but there's no way to tell. We don't know what sort of personnel files they were after." Mac frowned. "What about the guy who tried to kill you? Any word on him?" She shook her head. "We've been too busy, in the last week, to track him down. The police are on it, but they say they haven't found anything yet. And that attempt doesn't match any of the others." "'They say'," Victor repeated, thoughtfully. "You don't believe them?" The Director sighed. "Maybe I've been in this business too long. Maybe I'm too suspicious. But no, I don't believe them. The attempt was too clumsy and obvious for there not to have been witnesses. And it was probably local muscle, since an import would presumable do a better job." "All right," Victor said. "We'll start there. What is the word inside the Agency?" "Panic. Everyone is accusing everyone else, and the Head has disappeared." Mac's eyes narrowed at that. "Any chance he's behind this?" "It's one of the theories. Another is that whoever is behind it has kidnapped the Head. Everyone is looking at the directors, wondering if one of us is aiming to take over the his position." "And?" "No one has made a move yet." "Tell me about the Head," Victor prompted, face intent. "No one is sure who he is, or even if there's just one Head. He approached the Government Advisory Council about setting up a policing agency, years ago, and they agreed. I've only seen him a handful of times, and I can't even be sure that it was always the same person." She started pacing, watching the ground at his feet, something she did when she was trying to remember every detail of something. "He usually appears wearing a long hooded robe, usually orange. Like a far east holy man." Suddenly Victor was like a statue, tense and unmoving. "What?" "Does he like to talk in riddles?" The Director frowned. "Yes. Why?" "My dreams..." Victor whispered, then suddenly the tension eased, somewhat. "That time, more than three years ago, when we woke up in that warehouse with no memory of how we got there. After that I had the occasional dream about a man in orange robes, with a strange voice, talking in riddles." The Director frowned. "I don't remember anything, either. But Desmond was dying, and he remembered. He said that it was better that I not remember. Maybe... maybe he was trying to stage a takeover. If it was the Head in your dreams..." "If it was the Head," Victor continued for her, "and he took care of one takeover attempt on his own, then I think he's more than capable of taking care of himself now. That is a point more in favor of him being behind this." He shook his head. "Anyway, we had better work separate. Little contact. If people are as paranoid as you say, then they are going to be watching all of the directors. We should keep communication to a minimum. Mac and I will operate separately." "Agreed. Jackie will be your contact. Discuss it with her." The blonde agent popped out of the shadows, almost as if summoned by her name. "Like, are we almost finished here? Dobie and I have plans, you know." "Dobie? Dobie?!?" Mac started laughing, and all the tension seemed to drain out of him. Dobrinsky turned up at the opposite side of the lot. "Ace, if you ever call me that, I will..." "Will what, Dobie?" Mac shot back, laughter gone. "We're not agents anymore. You're not in a position to discipline me." The Director started heading towards the car with LiAnn. The banter was cute, and oh-so-familiar, but she didn't have the time. Victor called out to her. "We aren't coming back, you realize. We're paying a debt, and then we are going back to our own lives." She turned and gave a faint smile. "I know, Victor. I didn't expect anything less." Mac tossed his suitcase on the first bed, then tossed himself onto the second. Though they had flown coach, they were going mid-grade for hotels. He would have preferred five-star, but they didn't want to attract attention. At least Vic hadn't insisted on some flea-ridden motel. He'd been around Mac too long to be willing to do that. "All right, first step is to find out what the police have learned about the hit attempt on the Director. Suggestions?" Mac propped himself up against the headboard. "Well, just asking is probably out. If they do know more than they're saying, someone is squashing the investigation, and they aren't going to want that to get out, not with how high-profile a crime it was. Break-in?" Vic shook his head. "At a police station? I don't think so. They're never quiet, and the security is better. We need to get in a different way." "Computers?" "Computers. But neither of us know enough about computers to hack our way in." "What about Nathan? He seemed like he'd do anything you asked." Vic shook his head. "But his information was paper only. I don't think he knows enough about computers. But there was one guy I used when I was a cop..." "Fine. We'll go see him, first thing in the morning," Mac said, holding out a hand. "It's late, I'm exhausted, and we've both got jet-lag." Besides, he thought. I want a cuddle. Vic looked like he wanted to get going, right away. But after a moment he relaxed. "You're right. Neither of us is any shape to go running around tonight." They undressed and climbed into one of the beds and cuddled against each other. Now that they were actually going to be doing something, Mac was feeling a lot better. Who knows, maybe he'd be able to sleep tonight. "Victor darling, it's been a dog's age! And who is this gorgeous young man? And is he available?" Victor could see Mac, out of the corner of his eye, trying very hard not to start laughing. Maybe he should have warned him about Maurie. The man was short. Shorter than even the Director. And he had pink hair and was wearing makeup. He was also dressed in a blue silk dressing robe, and nothing else. "Mac Ramsey, meet Maurice Sondberg, Maurie to his friends. And no, Maurie, he is not available." No matter how he might act, Maurie was not stupid. His grin got even wider, and it seemed to say 'it's about time you settled down, you lucky dog'. "So, Victor. What is it you need from Maurie?" Victor grinned. "Am I that obvious?" The man pouted, an obviously practiced pout. "You never come see me unless you need something. Just once, I wish you'd come by just to say 'hi'. In fact, it's been nearly four years! So, again, what is it you need?" "There was a shooting in the park last week. I want to get into the police computers and find out why they aren't getting anywhere." "Oooh. Not a little favor, is it? Interfering in police business can get you in big trouble, Victor." "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. The target of the gunman was a friend of mine, and the police haven't done anything, so she asked me to look into it. I just want to know what the cops have learned so far." Victor made pleading expressions. Maurie liked to play-act, and he was usually more cooperative if you played with him. Maurie gave a theatrical sigh. "Well, in that case..." Victor grinned again, as they were led over to the computer room. "Hel-lo. This is interesting." Victor sat up straight in the chair he'd been dozing in while Maurie worked his magic. "What?" "The police have closed the file. According to this, they know who did it, too. But there is no record of a request for a warrant, or an arrest. They just... closed off the case." Mac was frowning. "Takes someone with a lot of power to squash the investigation into a public shooting, where two civilians got killed. The public will be screaming for blood if they don't arrest someone." "No kidding," Victor replied. "Maurie, is there a name or address for the shooter?" "Offf course, gorgeous. Printing right now." He leaned over to pluck the piece of paper from the laser printer as it emerged. He handed it to Victor with a theatrical flourish as he stood. "Thanks, Maurie. I owe you one," Victor said, giving the man a quick kiss on his cheek. Maurie pouted again. "Is that the best you can do, darling?" Suddenly Mac gave a mischievous grin. "Maybe I can do better," he said, then swept the smaller man into a kiss. Not a standard kiss. No, the movie romance, bending the other man backwards, full french kiss, that went on and on and... Finally, Victor gave a small cough, and Mac straightened up. Maurie was flushed and bright-eyed. "Victor," he said, breathless. "I will do you favors anytime. Just make sure you bring him with you." "Tease," Victor said with a smile as they stepped out into the sunlight. "Never with you," Mac responded. "For you, and only you, I always follow through. So, what do we have?" "Sam Jacobs. And an address. I think we need to pay Mr. Jacobs a little visit." "Sounds like a plan to me." Investigations LiAnn parked herself at the conference table with her laptop, then looked across the table at her boss. "So. Where do you want to start?" The Director frowned, deep in thought. "The director for East Europe." LiAnn blinked in surprise. "She was nearly killed." "With an emphasis on nearly. Why did she survive, when others didn't?" "You did, too," LiAnn pointed out, but she wasn't really surprised. Di was a very paranoid woman, and surviving an attack was sometimes really misdirection. She was already tapping at her keyboard. The Director waved off the comment. "Different MO. Possibly a different source. No. I want to know why she survived. It could have been designed to throw off suspicion." LiAnn shrugged. "All right, that's where we'll start. Better send someone to get Nathan poking through his archives as well." The Director smiled at that. Neither one of them was volunteering to go down themselves. "He still thinks you're a bug creature?" "Yep. I buzz, apparently. And you are still the queen alien with a very good human disguise." They both chuckled at that, then got to work. Sam Jacobs was not very hard to track down. Vic checked with a few old sources, and found out that Jacobs was a petty muscle, available for hire. When he wasn't working—if you could call it that—he hung out at a pool hall called the Blue Rooster. Victor hadn't a clue why it was called that, and he didn't really want to know why. So, the Blue Rooster it was. Victor and Mac dropped, by right before 'happy hour'. The place could only be described as a dive. The air was full of cigarette smoke, half the lights were burnt out, and most of the pool tables had stains that you probably didn't want to look at too closely. Not to mention the stuffed and mounted rooster, behind the bar, that had been dyed an electric shade of blue. Vic and Mac had dressed to fit in, wearing ragged blue jeans, t-shirts and leather jackets, but they still stood out like sore thumbs. Maybe it was that they were too clean, or that they still had all of their teeth. Mac leaned against a pool table, keeping one eye on the door, and the other on the other patrons, while Vic went to talk to the bartender. At first the man shook his head, no doubt telling Vic that he didn't know anything about Jacobs. Vic slid a bill across the bar to the man. Mac couldn't see it, but it must have been a pretty high denomination bill, because the man's attitude made a sudden change. He pointed towards one of the tables near the front windows. The man was pretty typical for the bar. His blue jeans were almost brown, looking like they hadn't been washed in a year. The t-shirt was stained and torn. His hair was greasy, and he was in dire need of a haircut. Mac did not want to get close enough to smell if he needed a bath as badly as he looked. "Sam Jacobs?" Vic asked in a polite tone. The man turned towards them. "Who wants ta know?" he said with a sneer. "We'd like to talk to you about the shooting in the park, last week." "I don't know nothing about it." Jacobs turned back to his solitary game of pool "Oooh. A double negative," Mac pointed out. "That means he does know something, Vic." Vic waved at him to turn the sarcasm down, while the other man just glared. "The police know you did it, Jacobs." "So? They haven't done anything about it." "And they aren't going to," Vic said. "But we aren't the police, and you're going to tell us everything about the hit, and who ordered it." The tone was still mild, but suddenly it was full of steel. "Or else?" Jacobs was starting to sweat. "Or else," Vic replied, not bothering to say what the 'or else' was. Mac was impressed. He rarely ever go to see Vic do the intimidation routine. Usually, the other man was the picture of clean-cut and polite, but today... Well, Mac was starting to feel uncomfortable in his tight jeans, as they got tighter. Vic being masterful never failed to get his blood rushing to certain areas. And it was working, too. Jacobs was sweating. Or was that grease rolling down from his hair? "What makes you think I'm gonna talk to you?" he said is a show of obviously fake bravado. "Because if you don't, your body's going to turn up in an alley tomorrow, and no one is going to care." For a moment, Mac's blood ran cold. Vic was on his side, and he wasn't the target of the glare, but he was intimidated. Jacobs didn't stand a chance. "All right, all right," he said, nervously fiddling with his pool cue. "Some woman hired me. Blonde, classy looking, with a limey accent. Real hoity toity. Paid up-front. Said that the cops would never investigate. She'd make sure of it." "Name? Address?" "Like she's gonna tell me her name," Jacobs said, with a snort. "She paid half up-front. Said she'd send the rest by mail to my place. And she found me." "And you trusted her to send the rest." "Hey, that half was more than I usually get." Mac was starting to get a little impatient. "And what about now? After all, you blew it." The man looked stubborn. "Hey, I can still get the bitch. I just need to try again." Mac advanced, fist already clenching for the blow, when the front window shattered, and he felt a bullet whiz by. Jacobs fell to the ground, a small hole appearing, as if by magic, between his eyes. Mac and Vic hit the ground, too, but by their own choosing, along with everyone else in the room. Silence. Cautiously, Vic poked his head up over the edge of the pool table they were sheltering behind. Another bullet whizzed by. When Vic dropped back down, there was a hole in his jacket sleeve, right near the shoulder. Mac pulled the jacket off the shoulder to check. There was a red streak, where the bullet had grazed Vic, but no blood. It had just barely missed him. Mac breathed a sigh of relief. "So," he said, checking his own gun. "Now what?" "Take your pick. Stay here, try again, or make a run for the back entrance." Mac was considering the options when they heard a car screech as it pulled away. They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Mac poked his head up. No shots. He stood. Nothing. "Looks like whoever it was is gone," he said to Vic. His partner was going through the late Mr. Jacobs pockets. "Damn," he muttered. "Nothing." "Didn't sound like there was anything more he could tell us anyway." "Right. Well, let's call Jackie. Give her what we have for the Director." "And then?" Suddenly, Mac found himself flat on his back on the pool table, with Vic leaning over him kissing him breathless, ignoring their audience. Then Vic pulled back and gave him a hungry grin. "Then we go back to the hotel and I fuck you into next week." "Riiiight," Mac said, pulling himself upright. "I forgot. Bullets flying equals horny Vic. Let's go." From his rental car, parked across the street, Klaus von dem Eberbach had a perfect view of the dirty little bar, and the two men he'd been watching. Getting to Toronto had not been a problem, although his superiors were going to want to know why he had decided to follow two men all the way to Canada, which was out of his jurisdiction. Once there, it hadn't been too difficult to find the men. Knowing the names that the two men were using here, Mac Ramsey and Victor Mansfield, had allowed a search of credit card usage. He had been a little surprised to find out that the cards had existed for a while, but hadn't been used for more than three years, since before Blake and Thornton had turned up in Europe. Perhaps these were their real names? It would bear looking into. But the credit cards had led him to a small, mid-scale hotel. He had checked into a room on a different floor from his two subjects, and he had followed the men. This morning they had stopped at a suburban home, so far out from town that he had been certain that they would see him. A tracking device might be a good idea. And now they were at this place. What sort of name was The Blue Rooster anyway? And why were they talking to that greasy specimen of humanity? Suddenly, a new question presented itself, as the bullets flew. Who was trying to kill Blake and Thornton? And more importantly, why? "So, like, I told the Director what you told me, and she got really interested. She says that the guy sounds like he was describing the director over in London, the one that was nearly killed a few days ago. So she did some checking, and this director woman was missing from her office about the time that this Jacobs guy was hired." Victor could feel his eyebrows go up. "Maybe it's the move that no one has seen yet, the move to take over the Agency. I wonder, though. Jacobs being killed, was that to cover her tracks or because he failed?" Jackie gave a small shrug. "Who knows. So, whatcha going to do now?" Victor looked at Mac, asking and getting a response. "I guess we head for London for a chat with this woman," he said. "Cool." Klaus loaded his bags into the backseat of his rental car. It was a good thing he had paid off two of the desk managers to let him know if Blake or Thornton— no, Ramsey or Mansfield—checked out. He could see them loading bags into their car, over at the other side of the parking lot. Klaus got into the car, started it up, and lit a cigarette. As soon as the other two men pulled away, he was right behind them. He quickly realized that the men were heading for the airport. Were they returning to France so soon? And he still didn't know why they had come to Toronto in the first place. But no. They put most of their luggage into an airport locker, then immediately booked themselves onto a flight for London. Klaus waited until they were out of sight, then bought a ticket for the same flight. Luckily there were still seats left. "I have a job for you." Murphy and Camier waited, silent. As the Cleaners, they were the best in their field, and their field was assassination. A lot of people wanted to hire them, but they were on an exclusive contract with the Agency. "There are two men coming to London. They need to die. The details are in the envelope." In synchronized motion, the two men nodded, then stood to leave. Once in the hallway, they opened the envelope. "Oh dear." "Indeed, Mr. Murphy. I was under the impression that they were dead." "As was I, Mr. Camier. A pity. I was quite fond of them." "Indeed. However, we work for the Agency, and if the Agency wants them dead..." "But why does the Agency want them dead?" Camier stopped and considered the question. "I don't know. It might be interesting to find out. Still, we have plans to make. Shall we go, Mr. Murphy?" The two men left the Agency's London office. Murphy was carrying the satchel containing the implements of their trade, and Camier carrying the envelope. Inside the envelope were a slip of paper with a flight number and landing time, and two pictures. Pictures of Mac Ramsey and Victor Mansfield. Jolly Old England Victor gave Mac a nudge to wake him up. Their flight would be landing in London in a few more minutes. It was funny, in a way. This flight was the opposite of the last one. Flying to Canada, Mac was the one who couldn't sleep, while Victor was out like a light. This time, Mac had slept most of the flight away. But it was to be expected. Mac always relaxed once a job was underway, while Victor got tense, planning the next move. Before the job, Mac was tense, worrying about what they didn't know, while Victor was relaxed until he got the details. So, Mac had been able to sleep on the flight, while Victor's mind was so busy going over plans that he couldn't doze off. In his bag he had what would look, to anyone flipping through it, like a book of plans, the type a person buys when dreaming of building a home. But, one of those houses, midway through the book, was actually the floorplan of building that housed the Agency, here in London. Details on security were sketchy, though, and the plans might be out of date, but it was the best that the Director could supply them with. Agency directors tended to be paranoid, and few knew many details about the others' home offices. As a result, there were a lot of question marks. After all, they couldn't exactly walk up to the front door and ask to see the lady of the house, could they? Still, they'd figure something out. The pilot announced final approach, and Victor nudged Mac again. Time to get this show on the road. Mac shook his head, as they left the customs area. There hadn't been any trouble. Their French passports and the reputation of Thornton and Blake, Security Specialists, had been quite handy. Vic had suggested renting a car, but they decided against it. They would check into a hotel, a reasonable walking distance from the Agency headquarters here, and use the public transportation. They were heading for the bus-stop, when Mac noticed something. "Um, Vic?" "Yeah?" "There's a guy over near the phones. I could swear I saw him in Toronto." Vic looked over at the man. He was about the same height as Mac, wearing a suit and trenchcoat. His hair was dark and shoulder-length. His eyes flicked towards them, then away. "He was on the plane with us. Of course he was in Toronto." Mac frowned, trying to concentrate. "No... He was at the same hotel as us. I remember seeing him, while we were packing the car." A memory flickered past, and he grabbed onto it. "There was a car outside the Blue Rooster. I'm sure that was him, too." Vic frowned. "You're sure? Never mind, of course you are. So what do we do now?" Mac thought fast. "Head for the parking lot. See if he follows us. If he does, we grab him, and find out what he's up to." Vic nodded. "Simple is usually best. Let's go." They didn't have to collect any luggage, since they'd left most of their stuff in Toronto. All they had was a pair of carry-on bags with a couple changes of clothing. Mac wished they could have brought guns with them. They were going to need some before they went to see the local director. They headed away from the terminal, aiming for the long-term parking lot. Klaus followed the two men, wondering where they were going. It was not likely that they had a car parked here in case of a trip to London. Their last trip to London, according to the files, was nearly two years ago. So why... Klaus stopped. He could kick himself. They had made him, and were leading him someplace isolated. He decided to head back to the terminal. He'd use Interpol resources to track them. Following their credit cards had worked once, after all. He was heading away, when he saw the other two men, come from the other side of the lot. Tall and thin, almost cadaverous looking. He felt a shiver go through him at the sight. There was something about them. Something that made him stop and look back. Look, just as they drew guns, and aimed for Thornton and Blake. He drew a deep breath. "Look out!" At the shouted warning, Victor spun. Seeing guns, he grabbed Mac and dove behind a parked car. "Isn't that..." "The Cleaners," Victor finished off for Mac. "But why are they shooting at us?" Mac rolled his eyes. "They work for the Agency. We're here to talk to an Agency director about an attempt on another director. Let's face it, Vic. We're in the middle of an intra-agency war." "And we're unarmed." Victor was pissed. There was no way that they could have brought guns onto an international flight. He'd planned on getting a couple, illegally, before they went to 'see' the local director, but he hadn't expected to need them quite so soon. "Who shouted?" Mac peeked over the hood of the car, noting the location of Murphy and Camier, as well as their mysterious benefactor, who was currently making tracks. "Our shadow," he said, ducking as a shot pinged off the car. "Great. Suggestions?" Mac thought about it. Unfortunately, the parking lot was deserted. After all, that was why they had picked it. He shook his head. "You circle right. Try to get behind them. I'll keep their attention." Vic looked worried, but there weren't many options open to them. He grabbed Mac and kissed him, hard. "Be careful," he said, then headed to the next row of cars. Victor weaved his way between the cars, angling for where the Cleaners were. It was disappointing, really. He liked the Cleaners, even if they were assassins. He'd played poker with them, usually losing to them and their stone faces. But they also followed orders. He'd gone against them before, when the Agency's orders and the Director's orders had conflicted. "Guys! Can't we talk about this?" Mac's voice came from behind and to the side of him, as his partner tried to distract the two gunmen. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Ramsey. Our orders are quite clear on this." Camier. Always so polite. Actually, they both were. From the sound of the voice, he was just about even with them. Luckily, the parking lot was nearly full to capacity, so he was able to keep cars between him and his targets. Unfortunately, while they couldn't see him, he couldn't see them either. Mac was staying out of sight, but kept talking. Both of the assassins were focused on him. Victor was coming up behind them, now. The only problem was how to take out two armed men when he was unarmed himself. He'd have to wing it. "Mr. Ramsey, if you and Mr. Mansfield would just step into view, we promise that it will be quick and painless. Must we prolong this?" Yes, Camier, we must. Victor positioned himself, set himself, then sprang. The Cleaners spun, the moment they heard him move, but it was too late. He had Camier by the throat, holding him between himself and Murphy. In his hand, he held Camier's gun, grabbed at the same time as its owner. "Put it down, Murph," he said quietly, his gun pointed at the man. "You can't kill me without killing your partner, and I really doubt you're going to do that." For several long, tense moments it was a standoff. Mac was coming up behind Murphy, but Victor didn't spare any attention from the assassin. He kept his grip on Camier tight. Finally, Murphy released his gun, letting it dangle by the trigger guard from his finger. Mac quickly took it from him, then frisked him. Keeping a wary eye on the man, he then moved to their ever-present satchel, and gingerly flipped it open. Inside, he found ropes that he used to tie Murphy with. Once he was secure, Mac moved to Victor's side, and tied up Camier as well. Victor was relieved, but knew better than to relax completely. Even tied up, the Cleaners were still dangerous. "Well," he said, standing well back from the bound men. "Let me guess. The local director sent you to kill us." No response. "Did she, by any chance, mention that she sent someone to kill the Director? Our Director, that is." That got a small reaction, but he couldn't tell if it was upset about the attempted killing, or the fact that someone else was sent. "Opened fire on LiAnn and the Director in a crowded park." That got a reaction, from Camier. "Is Miss Tsei all right?" the man asked in a worried tone. Victor felt his eyebrows go up in surprise. "Yes, but it was close. Really, guys. I never would have expected the two of you to get pulled into internal conflicts." "We were under the impression that you were not in the Agency anymore. In fact, until we were told you were targets, we were under the impression that you were dead." Mac shrugged. "The rumors of our demise, etc. etc. You know, Vic, I wonder why we were able to take these two out? After all, they had the drop on us, long before we knew they were there." Victor considered that. "You're right. We should have been dead much sooner. Unless, of course, they didn't really want to kill us." He looked at the two men, but they refused to meet his eyes. "Sentimentality?" "Of course not!" Murphy replied, in an offended tone. "Suuure," Mac said. "Well, I suggest that you might want to stay out of this one. There's a war brewing inside the Agency." "You're involved," Camier pointed out. "Personal debts. When this is over, we're gone. Now, be good boy." Victor picked up his bag from where he'd dropped it at the start of this, and dropped Camier's gun into it. Mac did the same with Murphy's gun. The satchel, they left behind, out of the reach of the two men. Who knew how many booby-traps that thing had. Still, this solved the problem of getting guns. Then they headed for the nearest bus stop, at a brisk walk. "Any sign of our shadow?" he asked as they walked. "Nope. Long gone. But what about the Cleaners? We're just going to leave them there?" "Yep," Victor replied. "They'll get loose, soon enough. Besides, I think they'll stay out of it now." "I hope you're right. But they knew we were coming. That means that the local director will be expecting us." "Yeah, I know." It bothered Victor too, but there was little that they could do about. For now. Mac dropped his bag in the corner and grimaced at the room. Unfortunately, the only room left in the area was one with two single beds. He hated single beds. His feet always hung over the end. And they were lousy for two people cuddling. Or anything else for that matter. Still, it wasn't for long. It was mid-afternoon. That night, they would sneak out to go see the local director. Tomorrow, they would probably be out of here. They had actually planned on spending a couple days, casing out the joint, but the welcoming committee at the airport told them that they better move fast. Vic was checking all the corners and cubby-holes, worried about bugs or cameras. Finally he straightened up with a sigh, the room obviously passing his standards, which had little to do with comfort and much to do with paranoia. He turned to Mac, and gave him a lazy grin. Mac gave a dramatic sigh. "Always the bullets," he grumbled, not really minding. Actually, if he had to admit it, nearly getting killed made him horny to. There was some sort of psychological reason for it, but he didn't really care. All he cared was that fights or bullets flying got him some great sex. Vic was already stalking towards the bed, clothes dropping to the floor as he went. Damn, he was good at that. Mac had always thought that Vic would do great as part of one of those all-male strip groups. Especially when he went the 'full monty'. Mac had liked that movie. Now naked, Vic pushed him onto his back on the undersized bed. "You are still dressed," he growled, tugging at Mac's suit jacket. Mac grinned up at him. "But you have so much fun getting my clothes off. Who am I to disappoint you?" Vic leaned down to kiss Mac's neck, followed by a lick. Mac's suit jacket was already gone, his pants undone, and his shirt was about to go too. "You never disappoint," Vic said in a serious voice, then plunged in for a deep, hard kiss. Mac relaxed into the mattress. Yes. This was definitely what he was in the mood for, a nice hard fuck. He loved it long and slow and tender. He loved being inside Vic. But today he wanted to be pounded into oblivion by his lover. By the time the kiss ended, his shirt was gone, and his pants and underwear had been pushed down to bunch around his ankles. He quickly disposed of them, while Vic went to their bags for the lube. Paranoid as always, Vic also paused long enough to grab one of the guns to slip under the pillow. Mac rolled onto his stomach, then pushed up onto his hands and knees, deliberately waving his ass in the air. Behind him, he could hear his lover's deep growl. and he grinned at the sound. He could feel the mattress dip as Vic rejoined him. "Oh God!" he cried out, as two slick fingers plunged inside him, with no preliminaries. He grimaced, the feeling riding that fine line between pleasure and pain. The pain disappeared quickly, though, and he pushed back against the fingers that were stretching him. They disappeared, but before he could protest, Vic's cock entered him in one hard thrust. "Yes!" he hissed, trying to keep quiet. It was difficult, but he figured that the walls around here were probably pretty damn thin. It got even more difficult to stay quiet once Vic started up a steady, pounding rhythm, perfectly timed based on nearly four years as lovers. Vic knew exactly what he wanted and gave it to him. Mac was practically whimpering by the time a hand reached to start milking his own neglected erection, and he was soon splattering the bed-spread. In the tiny portion of his mind that was still coherent, he snickered at the thought of the maid who would have to change it, and what she would think. Then Vic gave a strangled cry, and he felt that extra bit of wet warmth filling him up. Vic collapsed across his back, and he twisted so that they were spooned together on the narrow bed, Vic still embedded inside of him. Sure enough, his feet were hanging over the end, but he felt too good to care. Just a short nap, he thought as his eyes drifted shut. Not even the wet spot under his hip was going to be able to keep him awake. Victor smiled, and curled himself a little tighter around his partner. He was feeling real good right now. He closed his eyes, figuring that they had time for an hour's nap before they had to get moving. Victor groaned, then rolled over. Unfortunately he was a little to close to the edge, and he hit the floor with a thud. Whoever it was would know that someone was there. Mac was already on his feet, with the gun in his hand. "Window?" Mac asked, suggesting that they make a run for it. Victor shook his head. "There might be someone outside, and we aren't exactly dressed for it. No, let's see who it is." He pulled on his boxers, then headed for the door. Holding his gun, Mac plastered himself to the wall, next to the door. He nodded, and Victor pulled the door open. "Good day, Mr. Mansfield. Or should I say Mr. Thornton? I would like to talk to you." It was their shadow from the airport. Confrontations Victor stared at the man, his mind racing frantically. Not only had the man been following them, he also knew both of the names that Victor used. Chances were good, then, that he also knew about Mac. So what the hell did he want? Only one way to find out. "I guess you'd better come in," he said, keeping his voice calm, waving the man in. The man stepped through the door. Victor closed it behind him, and Mac was immediately there, gun pressed to the back of the stranger's neck. The man showed an impressive amount of self-control, not even flinching at the touch of cold metal. "Let's start with just who the hell you are," Mac growled. Klaus prided himself on not showing anything that he didn't want anyone to see, but it took all of his self-control not to flinch. The touch of a gun-barrel was unmistakable, and he didn't doubt that the safety was off. "My name is Klaus von dem Eberbach. I work for Interpol. And you are Matthew Blake and Richard Thornton. You are also Mac Ramsey and Victor Mansfield. I'm curious, though. Which are your real names?" Holding his hands out from his sides, trying to look as unthreatening as he could, he turned around to face the two men. Both were rumpled and barely dressed. The condition of one of the beds told him exactly what he had interrupted. It also explained why they looked so relaxed after nearly being killed, earlier in the afternoon. Blake/Ramsey also looked pissed. "None of your business," he snapped. Thornton/Mansfield put a hand on his shoulder, seeming to urge patience. "Interpol, huh?" he said. "So why are you following us?" Klaus rolled his eyes. "You think Interpol doesn't know about you? Watch you?" The man shrugged. "Maybe. But you followed us from Toronto. Canada is a little out of your jurisdiction, isn't it?" Klaus gritted his teeth a little at that. He'd already heard the same thing from his superiors. "When two thieves suddenly, without warning, pick up and head across the Atlantic, I get curious. And what I saw there made me even more curious. Then, without warning, after nearly being killed in a hole-in-the-wall bar, you head for London. Arriving in London, you are nearly killed again. I want to know why." The two men looked at each other, and he could almost hear the silent conversation going on between them. Finally, Thornton/Mansfield nodded, and his partner lowered his gun. The first man shrugged. "Someone tried to kill an old friend of ours, a little more than a week ago. The police didn't seem to be doing anything about it, so she called us for help. We found the shooter, but he was killed." Klaus frowned. The man at the bar. "Before he was killed, he gave us information that led us here. We're going to have a talk with the woman who hired him, later this evening." "And what do you intend to do with her?" "Just talk," Blake/Ramsey said with an innocent expression. Klaus knew that his face was showing his disbelief. "Really. Of course, if she tries anything..." Klaus filled in the rest. If 'she', whoever she was, tried anything, the two men would defend themselves, with deadly force need be. There was more to the story. A lot more. He could practically taste it. But this was all they were going to tell him. He could see it in their eyes. There was only sure way to get more information. "All right," he said, and the two men relaxed a fraction. "But I'm coming with you." Mac slipped through the darkness, dressed in black. While he watched for unexpected guests, Vic disarmed the security system. Over the years, he had gotten very good at that. Finally the system was disarmed, and they were slipping through the open door. All three of them. Mac had argued long against letting this Klaus person come with them, but Vic had pulled him off into the corner and pointed out that if the guy really was an Interpol agent, then they were better off keeping him with them, where they could keep an eye on him. If they refused, his next act would probably be to call his bosses and have them arrested. When put that way, Vic was right. So the German came with them. Into the building they slipped. From the outside, it looked like the typical sort of home you find in the posh area of London, set on a large, tree-filled lot behind high walls. Inside, though, was a different matter. Four below-ground levels housed the Agency's office for this area of the world. Would her office be on one of those levels? If so, then reaching her would be very difficult and dangerous. But their guess was no. According to the Director, the director for Western Europe came from a noble family that had fallen down on their luck, more than a century ago. She liked to trade on her title, even though there was nothing much behind the title. That was why she had chosen an old manor-style house for the Agency office. No, her office was probably in the house itself. The plans they had identified the room that had been office to the lord of the manor is days long gone. They would start there. If their guess was wrong... They would just improvise. They found the room, easily enough, and the spill of light from beneath the door said that someone was there. So far, no alarms had been raised, but that was not likely to last. They needed to move fast. Mac and Vic moved to opposite sides of the door, their borrowed guns at the ready, and glanced at each other. Klaus was against the wall, further back in the hallway. The signal was given, without a sound, and Vic kicked the door open, while Mac dived through, looking for targets. There were two people in the room. The bulky man next to the door just screamed 'bodyguard', but he went down easily, a gun-butt strike behind the ear. Mac kept his gun on the other person, while Vic tied up the unconscious man. "So, you're here to kill me too," the blonde said in a hauty tone. Mac had to hand it to her, she was a cool customer. Victor blinked at the comment, thrown off by it. "What are you talking about?" he said. "We're here to find out why you tried to have our Director killed. Not to mention us, this afternoon." The woman's expression had turned into a sneer. "Do you think I'm a fool?" she asked. "When two of her favorite agents are listed as dead, but are seen running around my territory, I start to wonder why. Then, when the first director was killed, I knew. She's moving to take over the Agency. She was already the Head's heir-apparent, but she obviously doesn't want to wait. She's killed him, and now she's killing off the competition. She's probably got her own people planted everywhere." Mac groaned. "Give me a break! She is not trying to take over anything! And we were in Europe because we left the Agency, not because she's got some sort of Machiavellian plan for world domination. The only reason she called us is because you tried to have her killed." "If she's behind it," Victor pointed out, "why would she offer to help with the investigations into the other deaths?" The woman gave him a look, as though he were a very slow child. "Having her own people involved would let her make sure that the proof of her involvement would never be found." "It wouldn't be found, because she isn't involved," Mac said. The woman just gave a snort of disbelief. It was obvious that she wasn't going to believe them, Victor realized. No matter what they said, she was going to see it as more proof that the Director was trying to hoodwink everyone. So what the hell did they do now? Mac was starting to get antsy. It was already obvious that, while the woman had tried to kill their Director, she was not behind the deaths of the others. She was just really paranoid. A common affliction in the Agency, and one of the reasons that they had left as soon as they had the chance. But now what did they do? They couldn't just walk away. After all, she did try to have them killed. Just leaving her would guarantee that she would try to kill them again, since she obviously didn't believe them when they said that they weren't the assassins. But killing her in cold blood...? Mac could see that Vic was going through the same list of possibilities in his mind, and his guard dropped, ever-so-slightly. Mac saw it, and so did the woman. Out of nowhere, she suddenly had a knife in her hand, and she attacked Vic. Despite her looks, she was obviously very strong. In no time, Vic's gun was on the floor, and he was pinned to the wall, trying keep the knife away from his throat. Heart in his mouth, Mac held his gun ready, waiting for an opening, and praying it would come quickly. When it did, he barely had time to recognize it and act. Vic got a knee between them, and pushed with both arms and one leg. From the angle that Mac was at, that few extra inches of separation was all he needed to get a clear shot. Without thinking, he took it, and she crumpled to the ground, already dead. He stared a Vic for a moment, until there was a hiss from the doorway. He went pale, as he realized that the Interpol guy had seen everything. Klaus had just seen him murder someone. They were in deep shit. "Let's get out of here, before someone comes," the man was saying. Vic picked up his gun, not wanting to leave any evidence, and they ran. Victor was cursing, under his breath, as they left the house. Killing the woman had not been planned, but there was little else that Mac could have done. That knife had been very sharp, from what he had seen, and for a moment he had thought that he was going to get a practical demonstration of how it could be used. Alarms were going off, and they could hear men shouting, as they moved through the grounds. This time, they weren't going to bother re-arming the system as they left. They were just going to get the hell out. They were almost to the wall, when there was an excited shout. They had been spotted. The three of them ducked behind trees, and prepared to fight, when the cry went up again. Then, amazingly enough, the security people started heading away from them. Victor peeked around the tree, wondering what the heck was going on. The security guards were following a figure in black. For a moment, the long blonde hair made him think it was Jackie, sent by the Director as backup. But no. Jackie was a lot shorter than this person. Besides, despite the long curls, this person was very obviously male. Behind him, he could hear Klaus swearing in German. He didn't recognize the words, but the tone was unmistakable. Then the guards were gone, and they were over the wall, heading away from the manor. A kilometer away, they finally stopped, and Victor turned towards Klaus. "Now what?" he asked. If the man thought he was going to take Mac into custody, he had another thing coming. Klaus frowned, thoughtfully. "You killed that woman," he said, and Victor tensed. "But she had already admitted to trying to kill you. As well, her attack made it a case of self-defense, I think." He stood silent for a moment. "I will look the other way," he finally said. "But do not count on that twice." Victor felt Mac sag slightly in relief. He nodded his thanks, then grabbed Mac's arm and dragged him in the direction of their hotel. They needed to head back to Toronto. Unfortunately, their trip to London had been a bust, in one way. While they had stopped the person responsible for the attempt on their Director, they were still no closer to finding out who was behind all the other deaths. They were back at square one. Klaus watched, as the two men headed towards their hotel. Following would be a waste of time, since he doubted that they would be there for long. Even though they said that their only involvement was to find the person responsible for the attack on their friend, and they had, he didn't think that they would be heading home. His bet was that they were headed back to Toronto, and he intended to be right behind them. "And why are you hanging around two such lovely men, Major?" came an amused voice from a nearby alley. Klaus spun, reaching for his gun. Standing, leaning against the wall was a tall man, wearing black jeans and a black pull-over top. His blond hair hung in loose curls around his shoulders. "And helping them to break into a private residence, too." Klaus slid his gun back into its holster. "None of your business, Earl." The handsome nobleman pouted, ever so slightly. "Really, Major. You'd think that a person would be a little more polite to someone who just may have saved his life." Klaus rolled his eyes. "Thank you," he said, in insincere tones. "And don't call me 'Major'. I'm not in NATO Intelligence anymore." The other man smiled. "A pity. I liked the uniform. But do be a little more careful in the future. I might not always be around." The blond slipped through his defenses, and before he could fend the man off, he had been soundly kissed. Then he was released, already alone in the area, leaving him to consider everything that had happened since he arrived in London. What he had heard that night intrigued him. This 'Agency' that had been discussed. There are always rumors of international conspiracies, controlling the world, but most people scoffed at them, but as a member of Interpol, and a former NATO Intelligence officer, Klaus knew better. The Government Advisory Council was spoken of in whispers, both feared and respected, and this Agency... Klaus guessed that the Agency was connected to the GAC in some way. Klaus lit a cigarette and headed off to collect his own bag. Next stop, the airport for a flight to Toronto. Even his superiors would not be able to deny that more information was needed. If this 'Agency' was an arm of the GAC, and it was going through some sort of internal battle, it was something to worry about. Klaus was very worried.. Interludes Jackie Janczyk, former mob-queen turned secret agent and still only twenty two, paced as she waited for her two contacts to arrive. Even after more than three years with the Agency it still felt weird, being on the side of the law. She'd been born a mob-princess, raised a mob-princess, indulged in every way. Then at eighteen when her father had gone off the deep end, she'd become mob queen, only to end up in jail real fast. Sometimes it still cheesed her that she'd screwed up so bad. The Janczyk family had fallen apart as soon as she was gone. She now knew enough to realize that it was going to happen anyway, but she sometimes thought that if she'd just been a little smarter... Still, it had. She'd gone to jail, and promptly been recruited by the Director. She'd liked that. Not only had she gotten out of jail, she'd also gotten to work with that cutie, Mac Ramsey again. Then she'd found out he was already taken. Pity. Of course, there was also Dobrinsky. He took a little longer to grow on her, but still, he'd turned out to be a lot of fun. It had also taken a while for her to figure out just what Mac saw in that stiff, Vic Mansfield. The guy was such a square. But he was a nice square. Loyal, cute, and with a great ass. And hot in bed, from what she'd heard over the Director's bugs. She smiled briefly at the memory. Who would have thought that Vic Mansfield was a screamer? Even better was getting LiAnn to listen in. She had been almost as much a stiff as Vic. And it was like she thought that both Mac and Vic were her own personal property, while telling them that she didn't want either of them. Sheesh, talk about mixed signals. It had taken almost getting blown up to turn the chick into a human. But, hey. The Director was good for her, and she was good for the Director. They made one hell of a pair. Jackie heard the sound of footsteps, and she tensed, reaching for her gun. A girl can't be too careful, after all. Then she relaxed as she recognized the two men. "You're late," she said, slipping the gun back into its holster. "Traffic was really lousy," Mac said with a grin, then kissed her on the forehead. She smiled, and shook her head. "Sorry, Mac. I'm taken. So are you, if I remember correctly." Vic snorted. "So what happened? Europe is like in major upheaval right now. The director you went to see is dead." "I know," Vic said. "Mac had to kill her." "What?!" "Well, she had a knife at Vic's throat. What else could I do?" Mac said, shrugging. "We did find out that she was the one who hired the guy to kill the Director. Hell, she ordered the Cleaners to kill us at the airport." Jackie blinked at that. "And they failed?" The Cleaners were the kings of assassins. That they would fail was almost unthinkable. "I don't think their hearts were really in it," Vic said. "Plus, we had a little help." Jackie waited, but he didn't go any further on that subject. "Anyway," Vic said. "She might have been behind the shooting attempt, but she isn't behind the other deaths. In fact, she was convinced that the Director is the one behind it, as part of a plan to take over the Agency. She was looking at it as more of a preemptive strike. Get your enemy before they get you." "Damn," Jackie frowned. "That means we're back to square one, with no leads." "Looks like," Mac said. "Listen, we are, like, seriously jet-lagged, so we're going to go check into a hotel or something. We'll start over again tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. I feel like I could sleep a month." "Right," Jackie said in an absent-minded tone. She waved as they walked away, but the gears in her mind were turning at full-speed. The Director was not going to like this. Damn, things were getting complicated. Klaus watched them though binoculars, from a distance. It hadn't taken much to track the two men down again, and this time he decided to be a little more careful. A bug planted on the men's rental car had let him follow them without being noticed. Now that they had noticed him, he was going to have to be a bit more circumspect in his investigation. But now he had a new avenue of investigation. Klaus grabbed his camera and took several photos of the blonde they were meeting with. The telephoto lens would provide some nice close-ups. She was new to him, and she was obviously very young. Quite pretty, in fact. But he'd probably have better luck in investigating through her. First step. Find out who she was. Klaus packed up his camera, and waited until everyone had left before starting his own car. He had work to do. It was late, her eyes were burning, and she desperately wanted to go home to bed, but the Director stayed where she was. There wasn't time to rest. Jackie had just left for the night. She'd relayed the information that the boys had given her, and it wasn't good. Their only solid lead had turned out to be a wild goose chase. And they'd been forced to take out the Western Europe director. And now, word had arrived that the director for Australia had just been found dead in his own bed. Behind locked doors, with the security system armed. This one matched the other three deaths. Whoever was behind this was doing a damn good job of panicking the Agency. If they kept it up, there might not be an Agency left. Out of thirteen directors, five were now dead, with no time to replace them. Their deputies were struggling to keep everything moving, while also investigating the deaths. And the only suspect they had was the Head. There was still no sign of him, and no sign that he'd been taken. Hell, there was no sign that he'd ever even existed. Even if he wasn't behind this, they needed to find him, and quickly. She pulled off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes, before reaching for another field report. It was going to be a long night. By the time he pulled himself out of the shower, Mac was barely keeping to his feet. Crossing the Atlantic three times in less than a week was not his idea of a good time. His idea of a good time was already in bed and half-asleep. Mac finished drying his hair, then dropped his towels on the floor and crawled in next to Vic. Strong arms immediately came around him, and he was pulled into a warm embrace. "Wanna make love to you," came a sleepy whisper. "But 'm too tired." Mac rubbed his cheek against the smooth chest. "S'okay, Vic. Don't think I could get it up either." "Love you." Mac smiled. "Love you too," he replied, but the other man was already asleep. He was exhausted, but it still took Mac a while to get to sleep. He'd hated having to kill the woman—after all, she'd thought she was protecting herself and the Agency—but it had been a choice between her and Vic, and Vic won, hands down. He would always win. Because life without his lover was a scary thought. He didn't know what he'd do if Vic died before him, and he really didn't want to think about it. He squeezed his lover a little closer, and rested his ear over the other man's heart. The reassuring sound of the beating of that heart finally lulled him into a peaceful sleep. Alice "call me Allegra" Mansfield ducked through one of her favorite shortcuts on campus. Passing between buildings and through parking-lots got her from the library to her residence a lot faster than if she stuck to the main campus roads. She was just starting her second year at university, and was enjoying herself immensely. Baiting professors had turned out to be great fun. Especially the more conservative ones in the PoliSci department at Queens. And her assignments and tests were so good that they couldn't even get back at her by flunking her. She grinned at the memory of one of her professors, the year before, and the expression on his face when he'd had to give her back her exam with an 'A' on it. It was worth the time and energy spent studying for it. The wind picked up, and Allegra pulled her jacket tight around her. She'd ended up staying at the library until closing, and she'd been on such a inspired streak on her essay assignment that she'd parked herself on the steps outside, and just kept working. It wasn't until the temperature had started dropping that she'd realized that it was past midnight. She was starting to shiver now. It also didn't help that her usual path was looking almost sinister, with the moon barely visible behind the clouds. During the daytime, the area was full of students, but right now it was completely deserted. She was beginning to wish that she'd called campus patrol for an escort. She was quite able to take care of herself, thank you very much, but she was a little weirded out by the way the place looked this late at night. She was ducking through one of the parking lots, in behind one of the buildings— from the back, she couldn't even tell which one it was—when she stopped dead. She'd heard something. "Is somebody there?" she called out. Silence answered her. She started moving again, then stopped. She was sure that she had heard footsteps. They had stopped as soon as she had, but she was sure that they weren't just echoes of her own. She was getting seriously weirded out. Not to mention a little panicky. Then she noticed the "help" button, over at the side of the parking lot. They had them all over the campus. If you were in trouble, you just pressed it, and the campus cops came to investigate. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she was beyond wanting to take chances. She headed towards the button at a run. Behind her, she heard the footsteps again, but this time they were obviously not echoes. By now she was gasping, but she was almost to the "help" button, when a hand grabbed her by the arm and swung her around. She swung her book-bag at her attacker, but he was ready for her. He deflected the blow, easily, and yanked the bag from her hands. He tossed it away, and the contents went flying across the pavement. She tried to make a run for it, but his foot came out to trip her. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and looked up into the face of her attacker. He was young, not even thirty, she thought. Dark hair tied back in a ponytail, close-cropped beard and mustache. And his eyes... They were empty. Allegra thought, for a moment, that she was going to be sick from fright. "Wh... what do you want with me?" She finally asked. "You?" The man smiled. It wasn't a very pleasant smile. "Nothing. You are bait. Nothing more, nothing less." With that, he yanked her to her feet, making her stumbled. Before she could try to run again, a fist lashed out, and everything went black. Cat and Mouse The phone was ringing, softly but insistently. The Director shot up in her seat at the sound. She hadn't even realized that she'd fallen asleep. She picked up the phone, while wiping the sleep crust from her eyes. "Yes?" she barked. What she heard made her sit up even straighter in her chair. "What? When? Are you sure? Yes. Yes." She hung up the phone again. This was not good. "Dobrinsky!" She shouted. He appeared at the doorway, looking fresh as a daisy, like he always did. Sometimes it annoyed her, but right now she was to busy to care. "We have a problem." Victor groaned, and hit the alarm clock's off button. The annoying ringing didn't stop. He thought about it for a moment—a difficult thing to do when your brains feel like they've been replaced with cotton balls. Finally he realized that it was the phone ringing, and not the clock. He fumbled for the phone, Mac already starting to stir next to him. "Yes?" he mumbled into the receiver, once he had it up, and held against his ear properly. "You two need to get here, right away." It was the Director. Suddenly, he was very awake. "Come to the Agency? Why?" Mac sat up at that, with a worried look on his face. "Somebody kidnapped your sister last night." "What!?!" Mac had to suppress a shudder as they passed through the doors into the local Agency headquarters. He hadn't been here in more than three years, since the night when he and Vic and LiAnn had gone after the Director in her confrontation with the assassin, Pouchie. The night that they had all nearly died. The night when he and Vic had cut their ties with the past and left to make a new life for themselves in Europe. He had thought—make that hoped—that he would never see this place again. It hadn't changed a bit. The bright lights, yellow walls, echoing silence. Vic had commented once on how creepy the place was. How they almost never saw another soul. Vic. Vic was frantic. He had been since they got the call from the director. The only person who meant as much to him as Mac did was his sister. He felt responsible for her, and now she had disappeared, and Mac had a sinking feeling that it was because of their investigations here. Someone was trying to stop them. But there were too many questions to be sure. Hopefully, they would now get answers. The Director was waiting for them in the briefing room. It was exactly the same as it had been before. The large conference table, under dim lightly. The stairs leading up to... Well, he'd never actually found out what was up those stairs. LiAnn, Jackie and Dobrinsky were all there too. "Talk," Vic said. He didn't seem to be able to say more than one word at a time, right now. "There are people I keep an eye on, for various reasons. Your sister is one of them," the Director said. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. "This morning, I got a call. A police report went into the computers. Your sister never went back to her dorm last night. Her roommate didn't worry much. This morning, however, her bag was found in one of the campus parking lots, and there were signs of a struggle. The Kingston police are searching for her." "I'm going." Mac reached out and grabbed Vic's arm. Not a good idea. "Vic, think. If it were just some random psycho, they probably would have... found her already. If it isn't... she doesn't have enemies, but we do. That is probably why she was taken. We need to be someplace where they can contact us." The expression on Vic's face said that he heard, and understood, but that he didn't care. He was operating on pure instinct. He tensed up, and Mac could tell that he was about to yank away, when the phone rang. Everyone froze, except the Director. She walked over to look at the display and frowned. "What?" Vic shouted. "The number being called. It's the one I gave Michael Tang. He's the only one I've given that particular number to." The phone was still ringing. Mac could feel a knot forming in his stomach. Michael Tang was dead. They knew that. His body had been positively identified, three years ago. So who the hell was using that number? The Director hit the intercom button. "Yes?" she barked, her voice filled with a damn good imitation of irritation. "You have something I want," a man's voice said. Mac frowned. There was something about the voice. Something very familiar. "And that would be?" "Mac Ramsey." Mac jerked at that. So he was the target. But who the hell was the guy? The voice... he was sure he knew the voice. "And?" the Director said, trying to sound bored. "Ramsey goes to the hotel where old man Tang died. Alone. Once there, he follows instructions. If he does, little miss Mansfield gets released, unharmed. If he doesn't..." There was a click, followed by a dial-tone. It was then that a three year-old memory finally clicked for Mac. "Mr. Conscience." Everyone turned to look at him, confused expressions on their faces. "Michael's new 'brother'. The guy who said he was Michael's conscience. That's who that was." The Director looked murderous. "I told him what would happen if he stepped foot on this continent again. He doesn't get a second chance," she muttered. Mac was already heading for the door. "Where the hell are you going," Vic called out. "To do what I'm told," Mac said in a determined voice. "He's going to try to kill you." "She's my sister too, now. I'm not going to let her be hurt because of me. I think he's telling the truth when he says he'll let her go. Mr. Conscience wouldn't be who he is if he didn't." Mac smiled suddenly. "Besides. First we are planting a tracking device on me where it can't be removed. I'm sure the Agency has something appropriate. He said come alone, but I'm not going if my backup doesn't know how to find me." Mac was relived to see a small smile cross Vic's face. Now he just needed to convince the butterflies in his stomach that he was as confident as he sounded. Klaus sat back from the library computer and frowned. It hadn't taken long at all to track down the blonde woman that Blake and Thornton had contacted on their return to Toronto. Her name was Jackie Janczyk, and three and a half years ago, she had been convicted of a variety of mob-related events. At the age of eighteen, she had become head of the Janczyk crime family, and had immediately gotten involved in a mob war with the Tang Family of Hong Kong. Naturally, considering how old and powerful the Tangs were, she had lost. The police had arrested her, and she had been sentenced to fifteen years in jail. But. This was the interesting part. Only weeks into her sentence, she had been released from custody. He couldn't find any explanation of how or why. It had the GAC and this mysterious Agency written all over it. Klaus hunched over the keyboard again, fingers already flying. This might be his chance to find a few more names in this little drama. All he had to do was find out who had arranged Janczyk's release from jail. Vic pulled the car up, outside of the hotel. Mac stared at it for a long moment. In his mind, there was snow on the ground, and Christmas lights on the trees. Over, in front of the door was a black limousine, and a group of men were walking towards it. The driver got behind the wheel. Michael got into the back seat. Father stopped, and looked up. Saw Mac and LiAnn as they walked towards him. The expression in his eyes... Was it anger? Sorrow? Welcome? They would never know. A car pulls in, tires screeching. Men jump out. Guns start firing. Father crumples to the ground. He's dying. "Mac?" Mac shook his head, the past disappearing. Instead, it was early fall, and the leaves were just beginning to turn color. "I'm okay," he said, not sure how convincing he sounded. "You don't have to..." The expression on Vic's face was torn. He was being asked to chose between his sister's safety and his lover's. Mac reached over and stroked a stubble-roughened cheek. "Yes I do, Vic. Don't worry. I doubt he's going to do anything right away. You'll be there before he gets the chance." He patted his stomach. Inside him was the latest in Agency toys, a homing beacon that you swallowed. The coating protected it from stomach acids for twenty four hours. After that, the coating and its contents digested easily, with no harm to the system. Powerful, with a range of kilometers, and undetectable to common scanners. "I still don't like this." Mac leaned over and kissed Vic. It was a soft kiss. A promise. "Neither do I, but there aren't any other options." He got out of the car, and watched as Vic drove away. Michael's pal—Paul, he finally remembered—was probably watching to make sure that he was alone. Vic would drive a kilometer or two away, then wait until the creep made his move. At least Mac hoped that he would wait. With Vic, you never knew. Mac walked through the front doors, then frowned. The man had said to come here and follow the instructions, but what the hell were they? Now what was he supposed to do? He thought for a moment, then shrugged and headed for the main desk. "Sorry to bug you," he said once he had one of the concierges' attention. "Do you have a message for Mac Ramsey?" He felt a little silly, but it was the only thing he could think of. The man frowned, then his expression lightened. "Ah, yes I do." He turned, and pulled an envelope from a slot, then handed it to Mac. Mac nodded his thanks and walked away. He opened the envelope. The paper inside had only one word written on it. "Kitchen," it said. Mac shrugged, and headed for the restaurant. At this hour of the morning, between breakfast and lunch, the room was deserted, but he could hear the sound of lunch preparations coming from behind the swinging doors at the side of the room. He headed through them. On the other side of the doors was a scene of chaos, as white-clad figures rushed around. Others stood at table chopping and dicing and all the other stuff that cooks do. Mac had never really learned how to cook. Besides, Vic did such a great job, so why should he? Okay. He was in the kitchen. Now what? "Hey!" Mac turned to the man coming towards him, trying to figure out what sort of excuse he could use. "You Ramsey?" "Yeah, why?" "Through there." The man pointed towards doors at the back of the room. Mac nodded his thanks, and headed in that direction. The doors turned out to lead to a small loading dock. This was where the food was delivered for the restaurant, he guessed. He looked around. All he saw was a van, parked at the dock, and a large laundry bag on the ground. He was walking towards the van when he heard a noise. He started to turn around, but something hit the back of his head. He saw stars, then everything went black. Victor sat behind the wheel of his car, absently chewing on a fingernail. He was worried about Alice. He'd never wanted his life to touch his sister. He'd done his best to shelter her, from his work as a cop, at the Agency, and his new life as a thief. But now she was in danger, and it was all his fault. He was also worried about Mac. The Director had shown him the interrogation reports on this creep from three years ago. Cold, competent and angry over his boss's death. Reading between the lines, he guessed that the man was more than just Michael Tang's bodyguard. All of this did not say good things about his intentions towards Mac. Fuck this. Victor started the car. He was getting Mac out of there. They'd figure something else out. The receiver tuned to Mac's homing beacon was very fine tuned, and it said that Mac was at the back of the building. As Victor came around, he saw a van pull away from one of the rear loading-bays. It took off with a screech. Victor's first instinct was to follow the van, but there was a dark lump on the ground, near where the van had been. The lump was moving. Worried, he pulled to a stop. It was a large laundry bag, but the contents looked to be too small to be Mac. Victor fumbled with the knot holding the bag shut. Finally, it came loose, and he pulled the neck down. "Alice..." he breathed, relieved and scared at the same time. "Moose!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. She burst into tears. Victor held his sister tight, rocking her. He had Alice back, but Mac was gone, in the hands of a madman. He had to find Mac. Mac would be all right, he told himself. Mac was a survivor. He refused to think otherwise. Mac... Rescue The climb back to consciousness was slow and painful for Mac. His head throbbed, and he could feel the large lump at the back of his skull. He wanted to check it, but his arms didn't seem to be working. When he opened his eyes, he found out why. He was tied to some sort of framework, that held his arms up and apart. He could already feel the bruises forming on his wrists from the weight of his body hanging against the ropes that held him. He turned his head to look around the room, and immediately wished he hadn't. That small movement made his head throb even more. Mac bit off a moan. It looked like he was in some sort of a warehouse. Old, and—considering the amount of dust—not used recently. Light streamed through the broken areas in the windows. The glass was too filthy to let much light through. He shivered in the cool fall air. The shivers pointed out something else to him. His clothes were gone. This was not a good sign. He also didn't much like the fact that El Creepo was able to do it while he was unconscious. Made him wonder what else the man might have done. But, no. There was no soreness that might suggest that he had... The over-sized room seemed to be empty. No sign of Mr. 'Out for Vengeance'. He thought about calling out, but decided not to. It might attract the wrong sort of attention. He checked his bonds, but they were tight, and the knots well made. He was not going to be able to get himself out of this one. But that was all right. All he needed to do was hang on until Victor arrived. If Paul kept his word—and Mac had to believe that he would, or this was all for nothing—he would drop Alice off, or tell them where to find her. Vic would get her to safety, then come for Mac. All he had to do was hang on. Until then, the longer he went without being noticed, the better. "Back among the living, Ramsey? How are you doing?" So much for that plan. Gingerly, Mac turned his head to the side. Standing in the doorway was Michael's bodyguard, Paul. There was no expression on the bearded face, but the eyes were as cold as ice. Mac had to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. "Oh, you know. Just hanging around," he said, trying to cover up his nerves with bravado. The other man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Save the lip, Ramsey. We both know that your friends are going to be coming, sooner or later. We need to have our fun before then." "And what sort of fun would that be." Mac wanted to kick himself for asking. Somehow, he didn't think that he really wanted to know the answer to that question. Paul walked over to him, and stopped right in front of him. A hand gently stroked his face, his neck. Then the fingers curved, and his fingernails raked down Mac's chest, leaving fiery red lines in their wake. He held up his hand to show Mac how the nails had been allowed to grow, then had been filed into points. Mac could feel small beads of blood welling up on his chest. "Does that answer your question? Just imagine," he said, starting to pace in a circle around Mac. Mac tested the bonds again, trying not to show just how nervous he was getting. "I entertain myself with you," one sharp nail scraped a line across Mac's back, "until your partner gets here. Then, as he comes through the door, I kill him." Suddenly, a gun appeared in front of Mac's eyes. "You'll hang there, and watch as your lover dies, unable to do a thing. And if Miss Tsei comes with him, well, you can watch your ex-lover die as well. And then, when you think that you can't stand to live another moment, I will kill you." "Why?" Mac was shaking now. Vic was smart, he told himself. Vic wouldn't walk into a trap that easily. Vic would be safe. "You took my lover. I take yours. You destroyed my life, I take yours." Mac wasn't surprised to hear his suspicions confirmed. He tried to keep an eye on the other man as he resumed his pacing. Paul was now holding a knife in his left hand. As he paced, he reached out and cut a small line across Mac's stomach. Mac felt a little queasy as a thin trickle of blood flowed down to his groin. The man was certifiable. He had to keep him distracted. He had to hold on until Vic arrived. "So..." he said. His voice quavered, and he took a deep breath before trying again. "So, how did you get back into Canada? The Director was keeping an eye on you. You shouldn't have been able to get past her." Paul smiled. "It helps to have friends in high places." Mac frowned. That didn't make sense. Who could he possibly know that would have the power to get him into the country? The Tang holdings had disintegrated, and he wouldn't have enough clout with them anyway. It didn't make any sense. "Why Alice? And how did you connect her to me?" The knife moved to run down the side of his throat. His breath caught, as it started to press in, the pressure stopping just short of breaking the skin. "A little bird told me about you and Mansfield. Oh so sweet, the two of you are. Why should you," a snarl, and a deep cut across one nipple, "have your lover, when mine is dead? I was also told that Mansfield had a sister. I knew that you wouldn't let her die. After all, how could you face your lover if that was between you?" "Where is she?" Please let her be all right. Please. "I left her at the hotel, all bundled up with the laundry. Still breathing," he added. Mac remembered the laundry bag next to the van, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was okay. Paul stepped behind him again. Mac braced himself for another cut. Instead, he heard the sound of the knife hitting the ground, followed by a zipper being undone. His eyes widened, and he tensed up. There was a rustle of cloth, then the warmth of a body pressed up behind him, an erection pushing against him. "But why should I wait any longer for my fun?" Paul said in a soft voice. The gun, which he was still holding in his other hand, came up to rest against Mac's cheek. "Hold still, Ramsey." "Wait..." "Shut up." The gun lowered to rest against his genitals. Mac could feel the erection being aimed at his entrance, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to relax. If he relaxed, the damage wouldn't be as bad. This was not something he had counted on. He would survive this, he told himself. Vic loved him, and he would survive this. The pressure built. A shot rang out, and two cries echoed through the room, but the expected pain didn't follow. Instead, a cool breeze ran across his suddenly bare back. Mac opened his eyes and twisted, trying to see what was going on. "Mac!" Mac looked up. Through one of the panes of broken glass, he could just barely make out the shape of his lover. Then one of the doors smashed open, and LiAnn and Jackie appeared, guns brandished. The other door flew open, and Dobrinsky was there as well. Mac sagged against the ropes, dizzy with relief. Behind him, he could hear the cries of pain from his now former captor as he was restrained by Dobrinsky. LiAnn had the man's knife, and was cutting him down. The ropes parted, just as Vic reached the floor. "Mac, are you all right?" he said, grabbing on to Mac before he could collapse to the ground. "Oh, yeah. Just peachy," Mac said. Then everything went black again. The next time that Mac came around, he was in the Agency infirmary. He was dressed, and he could feel the bandages covering his cuts and bruises. He turned his head, and saw Vic sitting in a chair at his bedside. On the other side of the room, he could see Alice, asleep on another bed. She looked okay. Good. He cleared his throat, experimentally, and Vic's eyes flew open. "How..." Mac swallowed, trying to get his throat moist. Vic grabbed a glass of water and held the straw for him. "How is she?" he asked, after a few grateful swallows. "Fine. Just scared. How about you?" "I've been better, but I've also been a hell of a lot worse. What about him?" Vic gave a predatory smile. "The docs patched him up. He's with the Director, right now." Mac shuddered. Being on the receiving end of one of the Director's interrogations was something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. On second thought, he'd make an exception in this case. The was a movement from the other side of the room, and Mac looked over to see Alice's eyes open. She looked over, then sat up in the other infirmary bed. "You're awake!" She came flying across the room, only to stop at the foot of the bed. Mac watched in confusion as she shifted nervously from foot to foot. Finally, he couldn't stand it any more. "What's wrong, kiddo?" Her face crumpled up. "I'm sorry," she said, tears starting to well up. "It's my fault that you got hurt." Mac rolled his eyes, then held out his arms. "C'mere, kiddo." He waited until she worked up the nerve to come close enough for him to hug. "It's not your fault, Allegra. I was the one he wanted. If it wasn't you, he would have found something else, someone else. If anything, it's my fault that you went through this. Forgive me?" Alice sniffed. "Of course. You're my brother-in-law, after all." Mac could see the smile on Vic's face. "Yeah, I am, aren't I?" "I warned you. I told you what would happen if you ever showed your face on this continent again. Didn't I?" The Director paced in a circle around the chair that the man was tied to. A doctor had dealt with his wounds, and he now sat, stony-faced, staring straight ahead. He gave no sign of having heard her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, not far from the spot where Victor had shot him, and squeezed. She was pleased to see him flinch. She was working very hard to restrain her anger. "I want to know how you got into the country. I want to know how you knew to target Alice Mansfield. I want to know everything." No answer, but she hadn't really expected one. She walked over to the table that sat against the wall. On it was a variety of objects. She passed over the cruder implements that she might have preferred to use, and picked up a hypodermic needle, already filled with a clear fluid. "If you won't tell me what I need to know, willingly," she said, tapping the needle and squeezing out a single drop of liquid to make sure that there were no air bubbles, "then I guess you'll have to tell me unwillingly." Now the man was showing some emotion. Despite his best efforts, his face showed nervousness as she plunged the needle into his arm and injected the liquid. Almost immediately, his body started to relax. "This is a new development of the Agency. A variation on the ever-popular truth serum. Now, let's start again." The would-be killer opened his mouth and started to talk. The Director left the room, taking deep breaths as she went. LiAnn and Dobrinsky were waiting for her in the hall. "Have that disposed of," she told Dobrinsky. The drug that she had injected the man with was a variation on the truth serum, cooked up by the Agency scientists. What she hadn't told him was that while the drug was a very effective truth serum, death was an... unfortunate side-effect. "Well?" asked LiAnn. There was no censure on the young woman's face. Instead, just the same fierce determination that she knew was on her own. She'd had to keep LiAnn away from the man. Her reaction to Mac's injuries had been a rage that would have let her cheerfully kill the man, even though she might have regretted it later. "He was approached by a man in Hong Kong. The man offered to arrange to get him into Canada. Gave him the information he needed to target Victor's sister." "When?" "Three days ago." LiAnn frowned. The Director could almost see the gears turning. "Before the boys went to London, but after they arrived here. Someone knew they were investigating, and wanted them out of the way. Who?" "From the description, I'd say that it was the Head. It certainly seems to match, and that confirms our suspicions." The Director shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Now the question is why? And what do we do about it?" There was no response. They were questions that didn't have answers. At least, not yet. Jackie drove away from the Agency headquarters, doing her best to concentrate on the road. She liked Mac. She liked him a lot. Seeing him hanging there, naked and bleeding, had left her seeing red. If they didn't need information from the creep, she would have killed him right there. At least she knew that the Director wasn't going to let him live. She'd made that quite clear. Jackie was so distracted by the events of the day that she was almost home before she noticed that she'd picked up a tail. She could have kicked herself. Like she'd told Vic once, years ago, she'd been the subject of surveillance since she was in kindergarten. She should have seen him sooner. She'd seen him now, so what did she do about it? That was easy. Lose him. Besides, she had a date with Dobrinsky, and she didn't have the time for this bullshit. Klaus pulled into over at the side of the road, and hit the steering wheel. He obviously needed a refresher course in surveillance. She never should have seen him following her, but she had. And then she'd made losing him look like child's play. Scratch one avenue of investigation. Like the Mansfield and Ramsey, Janczyk would now be on her guard. On the other hand, he now knew where they were based. At least, that was where he'd followed them to, twice that day, and where he'd followed the woman from. Since he started following the two men, early that morning, he'd been more and more confused. First to this... place, then a hotel. Then Mansfield had come back here, with a young girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to him (a sister, maybe?). Then, along with Janczyk, a black man and an oriental woman, he'd taken off for an abandoned warehouse. Klaus had watched the four went in. There were shots, and when they came out, Mansfield was carrying an obviously battered Ramsey, and the black man was carrying a handcuffed and bleeding man. He still wasn't sure what had gone down, but he hoped that Ramsey was all right. He wasn't sure why, but he liked the brash young man. Running in Circles Mac rolled over in bed, reaching for his lover. His questing hand found only empty sheets, still warm from body-heat. He opened his eyes and frowned. Why was he alone in bed? The sound of liquid hitting porcelain, coming through the open bathroom door, answered his question. He stretched, wincing a little as his cuts and scrapes tried to reopen. The doc had told him that he wouldn't have any permanent scars, at least not of the physical variety. He had suggested that Mac see some sort of shrink, but there was no way he was going to do that. Besides, he had Vic. That was all he needed. So they now had confirmation that the Head was behind the attempt to get rid of him and Vic. That seemed to confirm that he was also behind the deaths of the directors around the world. The only problem was that they didn't have any idea how to find him. Mac was getting really tired of being a target. The last confirmed sighting, now, was Hong Kong. It also seemed suggestive, considering the director for Asia was the first death. The Director had sent everything they knew to all of the remaingin Agency directors. He and Vic were no longer working on their own. Agency operatives around the world were on the hunt now. As for the two of them, now that their involvement was common knowledge, they were no longer holed up in crummy hotel rooms. Instead, they were in an agency safehouse. Actually, they were in Vic's old apartment. Most of the furniture was the same, and the walls were even the same bright yellow. It was quite nostalgic, in a way. After all, this was the bed that they had first made love in, that drunken night after LiAnn had told Vic that she didn't want to marry him. This was the bed where he had offered Vic what he considered his virginity. He hadn't really been a virgin, but it was the first time that anyone had taken him with so much love and care, not violence and pain. The light under the bathroom door went out, and the door opened. Mac waited until Vic had padded silently across the room and climbed back into bed before he turn and draped himself across the other man. "Sorry," Vic whispered. "Didn't mean to wake you up." "You didn't. I rolled over, and woke up when I realized that I was alone." That statement got him thoroughly kissed. "What's wrong?" The quiet question came just as Mac was starting to drift off, cuddled in his lover's arms. "Hmmm?" "Don't give me that, Mac. I know you too well. Something is bothering you. Is it what happened today?" Mac rolled his eyes. Vic would have to choose now for a heart-to-heart. "It's nothing." Vic's eyes narrowed. "C'mon, Mac..." "You won't get anything from me, copper," Mac growled is a movie-criminal voice, spoiled only by the grin on his face. Vic started to grin too. "Well, if that's the way you want to play it..." Vic rolled over, hard, and Mac found himself pinned to the mattress. Deft fingers roamed over his ribs, making him both laugh and writhe. He deliberately guided his motions so that they brought him into full contact with Vic's body. The large, heated object in the other man's briefs told him that he was successful. Finally, Vic simply dropped his full weight onto Mac, holding him immobile, and his mouth descended to plunder Mac's. Mac moaned, deep in his throat, and responded with everything he had, despite the fact that he couldn't move. He was really getting into it when Vic pulled away, his face serious again. "Viiiccc..." "No more distractions, Mac. Give." Mac gave a deep sigh, which ruffled his lover's bangs. "Fine. I'm just wondering..." "Yes?" "Before, the Director and company were still the only ones who knew we were alive. Now the entire Agency knows. We're not getting out of here, are we?" Vic's face hardened. "I'm not going back, and neither are you. I'm sure that the Director will back us up. Besides, we don't even know if there's going to be an Agency much longer. If we don't find the Head..." "Yeah. He kills off all the directors, and then... What if he starts on the agents next? Or sets someone else to do it? Hell, he's already tried to have us killed once! Next time it might work." Mac continued to rant, trying to ignore the fact that Vic had started nuzzling at his neck. "Umm... Vic... I'm not feeling a lot of sympathy, here." No, but he was feeling something else, and it was pressing into his groin in a delicious way. "Mac... All we can do is try to help resolve this mess, as quickly as possible. Then we can start worrying about the rest of it. Right now, all I care about is that I might have lost you today. I nearly died when I saw him holding that gun on you. I almost couldn't take that shot, I was so worried about hitting you, but I couldn't let him..." Vic's voice choked off. Mac raised a hand, and wiped a stray tear from Vic's face. "I'm all right, love. I got hurt worse the time I took a spill down that hillside in Switzerland." Both men grinned at the memory of the 'caper' that had almost gone wrong, two years earlier. Mac coaxed his lover back down into a slow, deep kiss. When they pulled apart, Vic was smiling again. He used a fingertip to trace Mac's lips. "What do you want, Mac," he asked in a low voice. "Anything you want tonight." "I want you to love me, long and slow." Vic's smile got wider. "I can do that," he said, then lowered his face for another gentle kiss. The kisses went on, until Mac felt like he was drifting on a gentle cloud, buoyed by the feeling of loving and being loved. He almost didn't notice when the kisses moved from his lips to his cheeks, and then the rest of his face. Time ceased to have meaning, as every part of his face was explored. He realized that Vic's hands had joined in. Unlike earlier, this time they were gentle, soothing rather than arousing. Mac sighed as his nipples were stroked, then rolled between fingertips. Then he gasped as lips and tongue followed the fingers, teasing the buds of flesh until he was groaning at the sensation. "Vic, please..." "Shhh. Long and slow, you said." So he had. Mac closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the sensations. Every portion of his body was examined, pampered, with fingers and lips and other parts of Vic's body. In the only coherent part of his brain, he marveled at the man's control. Mac undulated against the mattress, unable to stop himself. Finally, Vic rolled him onto his side, and coaxed him into bending his top leg slightly. Then he was spooned up behind Mac, his lubricated cock pressing gently against Mac's rear entrance. Mac's body was so relaxed, and so used to Vic, that the muscle quickly relaxed so that Vic could gently push his way in. Once his pelvis was pressed tightly against Mac's ass, he paused. Mac could feel lips pressed against the back of his neck, and arms came around to cradle him against a muscular chest. He gave a slow roll, encouraging his lover to move. Long, slow thrusts answered him, and he moaned quietly at the gentle motion. There was no rush, no worry. This was all that there was in the world, at that moment. Hand ran over his chest, not pushing, just touching. Loved, as he knew himself to be, Mac had never felt so... cherished before. In Vic's arms, he didn't need to worry about the Agency, killer Heads, assassins, or anything else. As long as they were together, they would be all right. Then a hand curled around his erection, and he was pulsing into it, small whimpers of pleasure the only sounds that he made. Behind him, Vic thrust in, all the way, and held still. Inside him, he could feel spread of liquid warmth. When Vic started to move away, Mac reached back to grasp his hip, not wanting to loose the feeling of possession just yet. Vic's arms tightened around him, and they rested together. "Love you..." Mac drifted off to sleep, not quite sure which of them had spoken. The hunt was on. The Asia office used the information extracted from Paul before his... unfortunate demise, to track down the Head's base in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, it was empty and had been for a days. The only thing left behind was a rather large bomb, which took out the entire Agency team sent to search the old office building. The explosion was big enough that it was reported on CNN, and led to speculation on Chinese terrorists. Tracking led to Australia, but all leads there came up blank. After that, nothing. Over the next few weeks, there were sightings reported all over the world, some of them simultaneous, and obviously impossible. After the fast pace of the start of the investigation, the Toronto group was getting twitchy, wondering what was going to happen and when. Klaus hung up the phone, scowling in frustration. He'd just been ordered back to Europe. His superiors had told him that he was wasting his time in Canada, and that he was to get back to the work they paid him for. Only weeks ago, they had been behind his investigation, especially after the death in London, they'd wanted to know everything about this mysterious 'Agency'. So why the sudden turnaround? The only explanation that made any sense was the Government Advisory Council. No one liked them. In fact, most organizations in the world resented them, and their power. Governments fear them and law-enforcement agencies suspected their motives. But when they said jump, everyone competed to see who could leap higher. Klaus sighed, and started packing his suitcase. He needed a cigarette. The Director pushed back from her desk with a frown, and removed her glasses. The latest sighting, this time in Vancouver, could neither be confirmed, nor disproved. Her instincts were saying that it was a real sighting, and she had already assigned five operatives to check it out. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease their tension. She really should be home, but she felt like she needed to be right where she was. Something told her that they were at a crucial moment. There was nothing she could put her finger on, but the hairs on the back of her neck said that the end was coming, and soon. She wasn't the only one who felt it. LiAnn and the boys were downstairs. They had showed up around lunchtime, and showed no signs of calling it quits for the night. It was like they also felt that here was were they needed to be. She sighed, and pulled the papers back to in front of her. She was going over the records of all flights out of Vancouver since the sighting. It was a long-shot, but there might be something. Her eyes were burning when she found it. Desmond Smiley was listed as being on a flight from Vancouver to... Toronto. It was so blatant, she knew she was supposed to find it. Desmond had been the previous director for the Eastern United States. He had also tried to overthrow the Head, using her as a programmed assassin. The Head had killed him, and wiped everyone else's memories. It had taken her weeks of investigation to piece together the details of what had happened, and she still didn't know everything about what had happened. It was too obvious. Either it was misdirection, or he wanted her to know... The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end again. She wasn't sure what alerted her. She didn't even make a conscious decision. She simply threw herself to the side, acting purely on instinct, and a knife went through the spot that her back had occupied only moments before. Climax "Tell me again why we're here," Mac said, perched on the edge of the large conference table that dominated the room, swinging his leg to tap against one of the table supports. LiAnn looked up from the file she was reading, a slight frown on her face at the disturbance. "Well, I am actually working, while I wait for Di," she said, one eyebrow arching up. Mac rolled his eyes, and looked over at Vic. Vic was pacing back and forth, the length of the table, showing no signs of having heard anything that Mac had said. Mac waved his hand to get his lover's attention, and repeated the question. "I... have a feeling," Vic finally said, a slightly confused expression on his face. "I just think that we need to be here." Green eyes pleaded for him to understand. Mac sighed, and flopped into one of the chairs, and swung his legs up so that he could rest his feet on the tabletop. Fine. If Vic thought that this was where they should be, this is where they would be. "Any more word on the head?" he asked, more for conversation than anything else. LiAnn sighed. "Nope, nada, nothing. It's like he fell off the face of the earth. Of course, that's the way it was before, but still, it shouldn't be this difficult to find one man!" The frustration was getting to her. Mac could tell. LiAnn had never liked unsolved cases, and this one was a doozy. He was considering suggesting that they send out for some takeout Chinese when they all sat up. Above them, in the Director's office, they heard a loud thud. For a moment, they all froze. Mac wondered if she had thrown something across the room in frustration or something. Then common sense reasserted itself, and they were all running for the stairs, weapons being drawn. He'd never been up the stairs. Despite a healthy amount of curiosity, he'd also had an equally healthy sense of self-preservation, and he'd never worked up the nerve to risk what the Director would mete out as punishment for invading her Sanctum Sanctorum. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway. To one side was an open door, which led to some sort of posh meeting room, currently unoccupied. Mac guessed that this was where Michael had been sent, the one time. At the end of the hallway was another door, shut. On the other side of the door, they could hear thumps and bangs. Not the sounds of a rage or frustration. A battle, more likely... Vic tried the door handle. It was locked. LiAnn punched a code in the touch pad next to the door. It was still locked. If only the damn thing had a normal lock, Mac thought, he could pick it. But, noooo... The Agency had to be high tech with their locks. Mac was about to suggest that Vic go to work on the electric locking system, that being his specialty, but LiAnn obviously wasn't in the mood to wait. Instead, she proceeded to prove that the door lock might not be easy to pick, but it certainly wasn't bullet-proof. The door could no longer resist a forcefully applied shoulder, and they piled through the door, all wondering what they were going to see. The Director wasn't sure what had prompted her to throw herself out of the path of the knife that nearly ended her life. Was there a sound? Did she feel a change in the air currents? Whatever the reason, she did, and it saved her life, at least for the moment, so she wasn't inclined to over-analyze it. She rolled as she hit the floor, and came up facing her attacker, and was not surprised by what she saw. The figure was completely shrouded by voluminous orange robes. She couldn't tell his body type, the hood obscured his face. In fact, the only thing that even said that the person was a man was his hands, which held a knife. They were decidedly masculine. Behind him was an open panel in the wall, and she immediately understood how it was that the other directors could have been killed in their locked offices. When the various headquarters were built, the Head must have quietly arranged to have secret passages built into each one, so that he would be able to come and go as he chose, no matter what the preferences of the individual directors, or whatever security systems they might have installed. "Why?" she gasped out as she tried to figure out how to get back to her desk, and the gun in the drawer there. "Why do this?" The man chuckled, and she instantly recognized the almost kindly sound as belonging the man that she had known as the Head. "Why not? I formed the Agency for a purpose, and it has served that purpose. Now that its purpose is finished, it is time to dismantle it." The Director frowned. What purpose? "Then why start killing people?" she said, feinting a move around the desk. The man immediately moved to block her. She lashed out with a fist, and the man blocked, then countered with a blow that knocked her off her feet. She immediately moved out of reach. She kept one eye on the knife, but held ready. There was no telling what other weapons he might be hiding inside his robes. The man tsked, and she could imagine the smile on the face that she had never seen. "The directors have grown accustomed to their power. They would never give it up, willingly. No. To end the Agency, the directors would have to be... disposed of. Like a snake, if you cut off the head, the body will die." "The boys..." The boys. If she just made enough noise to get their attention. But the door locked automatically. She would have to get the door open. "They were too much of a risk. They might have come close. And besides," he added with a shrug, "Mac shot me once. Did you really think I would let that go? Oh, but I forget, you don't remember that." Actually, there had been fresh bloodstains in the warehouse when they had woken, memories wiped, but they hadn't matched anyone on record. Now she knew why. After all, the Head was not likely to let his blood type, DNA or fingerprints be in the Agency database. She could hear hammering on the door, but it was locked. She moved towards it, but the Head got between her and it. "It really is a pity," he said in a sympathetic voice. "I really did like you. I planned to leave you for last, but you caught on too fast. You are too much of a danger to me. Because of you, my plans have had to be stepped up. That is why I must kill you now." His hand dipped inside his robes, and he pulled a gun. His move to block her from opening the door had let her make it to her desk, and she was reaching for her own gun, wondering if her desk would be able to shield her from the Head's shot. At the same moment, there were shots from behind the man, and the door burst open. Victor nearly froze, as they came through the door. In front of him was the figure that had shown up in his dreams, on a regular basis, since before he and Mac had left the Agency. The dreams of an orange-clad man who spoke in riddles. There were no riddles now, though. The Director was standing behind her desk, a gun in her hand. She was breathing hard, and a red mark spread across her cheek, the eye already swelling shut. Between her and them was the... Head. Had to be. In one hand, he held a gun, pointed at her. In the split second since they came through the door, a second gun appeared out of his robes, and into his other hand. It was pointed at them. "Ah, good," he said in an accent that was fakely cultured. "You decided to join us. Now I can deal with you all at once." "I don't think so," LiAnn said in a snarl. But it was a Mexican stand-off. Could they shoot him before he shot the Director? Before he shot them? For long moments, no one moved. All of a sudden, Victor was sure that the man was smiling. He couldn't see his face, but his body language seemed to imply... humor. The gun pointed at them twitched. "Planning on shooting me again, Mac?" "Huh?" For a moment, they were all thrown off by the question. What was he talking about, 'again'? Victor realized, almost too late, that this was exactly the reaction that the man was looking for. Mac's gun dipped slightly, and LiAnn's eyes flickered towards his face. But Victor managed to keep his eyes on the gunman, so he saw as the trigger finger began to tighten. The three shots were deafening, as they echoed through the room. The Head's shot missed Mac by the narrowest of margins. Victor's shot took him in the shoulder, forcing him to drop one of his guns. The Director's shot took him in the side of the head, killing him instantly. Victor gave a deep sigh, as the body collapsed to the ground. Across the room, the Director slumped into her chair, gun still in hand. Mac looked... white. The bullet had missed him, but he had probably felt its passage through the air. LiAnn was already at the phone, calling for a cleanup crew. The Head's body was now lying in a spreading pool of blood. Victor looked up, and met the Director's eyes. He could read the questions in her eyes. With the Head dead, the killings would stop. But now what? Half of the directors were dead. The head of the Agency was dead. What would happen to the organization now? Going Home "It's been... interesting," Victor said, holding out his hand to the Director. She smiled, and shook it. "Almost like old times. Are you sure that I can't change your mind?" Victor shook his head. He knew that she didn't really expect any different answer. "No. We're happy with our life, and we don't want to come back to the Agency, not even as joint directors for Western Europe. Sorry, you'll have to find someone else." With the Head gone, the Agency had been thrown into disarray. The only one to keep their head was the Director, so it had been no surprise when the survivors had asked her to become the new Head. One of her first orders of business had been to name replacement directors for the dead. LiAnn, who was over in a corner talking to Mac, had been the first appointment. LiAnn Tsei, director for Canada. Had a nice ring to it, Victor thought The old Head had been mysterious, and nearly impossible to find. The new one would be based from Toronto. The old Head didn't have a face. The new one is well known. One thing she'd immediately ordered was an examination of every Agency holding, looking for more of the secret passages. The last thing that she wanted was for there to be unknown back-doors into the various headquarters. It wasn't really a surprise, when she'd asked him and Mac to take over the London office. Victor had been expecting it, and he was equally sure that she'd expected the refusal. Even when they'd been working for her, no matter how much they'd agreed with some of the results, they had hated the methods, and they hadn't hidden their distaste. "You do know, of course," he told her, "that we will be there, if it is really urgent." She nodded, as he offered up a silent prayer that it never would be needed for them to work for the Agency again. "It goes both ways," she said. "Don't be afraid to call if you need anything." Victor turned, and went over to where his sister was waiting with Jackie and Dobrinsky. "Alice..." She frowned at him, but didn't look too upset. He smiled, and started again. "Allegra. I'm really sorry that you got dragged into this." "Don't be. Hey," she said brightly. "It wasn't any worse than being the sucker sent to deliver a bomb. Besides, it gave me a chance to see you again." Victor opened his arms, and hugged his sister tightly when she stepped into them. They stood there, embracing, for long moments. When they came apart, Mac and LiAnn had come over and were waiting. "You know," Victor said, trying to wipe away a tear without being noticed. He wasn't successful. "Mac and I were thinking. After school lets out next spring... Would you consider coming to spend the summer with us? In France?" Her face lit up. "That'd be great, Moose!" Victor smiled at the childhood nickname. "We'll work it out." He stepped out of the way, and let Mac and Alice exchange hugs, while he squeezed LiAnn. LiAnn in his arms was something he hadn't experienced in years. In felt good, but any sexual feelings he may have felt for her in the past, they were obviously dead. Instead, it felt like hugging Alice had. Good, but like siblings, not ex-lovers. He stepped back. Behind him, he could hear Alice admonishing Mac to look after her big brother, and Mac assuring her that he always did. "Sure, Mac. And who is it who wants to break into the most heavily guarded crime-lord compound in Europe just to see if we can?" Mac was spluttering protests, when the announcement of their flight came. Quickly, they exchanged a last round of hugs. Victor and Mac both even hugged the Director and Jackie, although they drew the line at Dobrinsky. Then they were headed for the boarding area. They were going home. LiAnn stepped up behind the Director, and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. "You know, I'm going to miss them," the older woman said. LiAnn smiled, and rubbed her cheek against the auburn waves. "So will I. At least we know where to find them, now. Nothing says that we can't contact them just to say hi." "I suppose. C'mon," the woman said, straightening up. "We've got a lot of work to do. Let's get going." On the plane, Mac couldn't sleep. He was exhausted, but the events of the last few days had left him to keyed up to rest. Beside him, Vic shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. He didn't seem any more able to rest. "Did we do the right thing?" Vic turned to face him. "Turning her down? I think so. She'll probably make changes, but we both know that she's the type that thinks that the ends justifies the means. I don't think either of us would be happy there for long, do you?" Mac shook his head. "Nah. I like the way we've been living, and I'll be glad to get home. There's just one thing that bugs me..." "The Head." Mac nodded. The Director had repeated what the man had said, about the Agency having served its purpose. The big question was, what was that purpose. Considering the man, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but they better find out. That was going to be the first assignment of the new and improved Agency. But he wasn't sure that he cared. He was looking forward to going back to being Matt Blake. He was looking forward to going home. Victor tossed his bags in the corner of the room. Home looked very good. He tossed himself onto the couch, and heaved a sigh. The trip had been long, and tiring. He looked up when Mac made a rude noise. His partner was leaning against the wall, sorting through the hefty pile of mail that had accumulated during their absence. Later on, they would check with their answering service for phone messages. "What is it?" "A letter from Klaus. Basic gist is that he's still watching us. Don't step out of line, et cetera, et cetera." Vic groaned. They might not be under the Agency's thumb anymore, but they were a little to well-known with the wrong people. "We could move, change identities," he suggested. Mac shook his head. "Abandon our home? Start over from scratch? I don't know about you, but I'm a little too old for that." Victor grinned. Mac hadn't even hit his thirtieth birthday yet. "Besides, unlike Toronto, this is home, and I refuse to let anyone chase me out of it." "Amen," Victor replied. "But I wonder... Why did he just give up and disappear like that? I mean, I assume that he was the guy who was following Jackie. He certainly didn't seem like the sort of guy to just give up, especially after what happened in London." "I don't think he did. At least not voluntarily. Nah, I don't think he had a choice. Somebody ordered him to back off, and I can guess who." Mac's mouth twisted, in a slightly bitter expression. "The GAC." "Exactly." "Great. Just what we need. Well, just as long as they stay out of out way." "Amen to that," Victor said with feeling. They did a quick check of the house and grounds, checking for any damage or signs of forced entry. Everything was in remarkably good shape after their absence, although the garden was looking a little out of control. They would take care of that over the next few days. Dinner was from the freezer. Victor noted that their supply of pre-cooked meals was getting low. Luckily, the next day was market day, in town. They would do some shopping, and he would spend the next few days in the kitchen, preparing meals for freezing. It would be an easy way to slip back into being Richard Thornton. And after that? Maybe a security job or two. Maybe even take on that heavily-guarded compound, like Mac wanted. The way he was feeling now, Victor felt he could take on the world. And win. But that could wait until later. They went to bed early, still a little jet-lagged. Victor was feeling very mellow and happy. When Mac started fondling him, he responded in a languid way. He rolled onto his back, and stretched out, open to whatever Mac wanted. What Mac wanted was familiar and welcome. He gently stroked and coaxed Victor to full arousal, before taking him into his mouth. While his tongue traced complex patterns on Victor's cock, his fingers teased at the opening lower down. Victor groaned, and brought his knees up and apart, inviting Mac to take him. Mac refused the invitation, instead focusing on pulling Victor's orgasm from him. At the last moment, he pulled away. A last few pumps of the hand, and Victor's seed was filling his hand. Boneless, Victor was unable to resist, or even assist, when Mac used his own semen to prepare him, before sinking to the hilt in one long push. After four years, the rhythm was familiar and effortless. As he recovered, Victor flexed his internal muscles, milking the cock that thrust into him. "God... Vic..." Mac groaned, the tempo of his thrusts starting to become uneven. It didn't take much more to tip him over the edge. When Mac collapsed on top of him, panting, and already half-asleep, Vic captured his mouth for a long kiss. When they pulled apart, Mac was smiling. "Welcome home, Moose." "Don't call me Moose," Victor said with a smile Home. What a wonderful word. THE END Book III: Revenge of the Bolsheviks lburwell@adan.kingston.net

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