Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. The price of stamps went up, and so did their ransom. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the list overload, but please bear with me (feel free to send angry emails and fling inanimate objects) until I catch up. Keep in mind that internet is a two hour bus ride away at the moment and I have to boil my water before it's safe to drink. Gotta love rural Ecuador!

Story Notes:

He'd been stupid. Drunk, and missing Stella like his right hand, he'd stopped paying attention and hadn't noticed the trap until it was too late.

What was this about, he wondered. Probably not the Vecchio thing, at least not from the mob. If they discovered Vecchio they'd kill him, not Ray. It could be an old enemy of Vecchio's, but that wasn't very likely. Nobody who actually knew Vecchio would miss the obvious fact that he wasn't Ray Vecchio. He didn't remember pissing of anyone in particular recently.

And damn, but this being tied to a chair business was harder than it looked on tv. After about half an hour (more or less the amount of time he appeared to have been out), his legs had fallen asleep. His butt was pretty much gone, and he knew that the pins and needles feeling would pretty much suck.

Oh well, nobody knew he was missing, and since he'd wanted to be alone to mope, nobody would worry for a few hours yet. He was on his own for the rescue. The rope was fairly easy to untie, and he was about to stand up when he heard the door open. He looked around, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to hide, nor was there anything remotely weapon-like lying around. He decided his best chance was to fake it as long as possible. It wasn't like he had much choice.

He was surprised when a woman walked in, and from the looks of things she was just as surprised to see him as he was to see a beautiful woman and not some thug.

"Who are you?" She asked, and a flicker of thought stayed him from replying as a memory sharpened.

*Two days wasn't a lot of time to share your entire life history, but his cover wouldn't be the one under scrutiny. Vecchio had been quite capable of discussing in detail his exploits with the Mountie, except for one case, making the difference that much more obvious. *

*"So tell me about this Metcalfe woman. This report has as many holes as a slice of swiss cheese."*

Vecchio looked away. "She's one of those people who would be enormously improved by death."

And that was that. Vecchio wouldn't say anything more. In the past few months Fraser had hardly been anymore forthcoming. The most he'd gotten from the Mountie was a brief mention of an inner ear imbalance.

This was definitely Metcalfe, and apparently he wasn't the Vecchio she had expected to kidnap. Well, he obviously couldn't give her his name, not the cover. "Uh, Ray Kowalski. Who the hell are you?"

"Idiots."

"Not who you wanted to see tied to a chair?"

"Not hardly." She laughed, and appeared to relax.

"So, uh, does that mean you're going to let me go?"

"Unfortunately I can't do that." But she stepped closer, fairly convinced that he was just an ordinary guy named Ray, tied to a chair and she was in con-- she stepped in close enough and he made his move.

Thank God dancing kept him fairly flexible because she fought like a wild cat, scratching his face and nearly taking out an eye until he ducked and twisted and pushed right there . . . just like in training.

Ms. Metcalfe did not appear pleased to find herself tied to the same chair that had previously held her would-be victim.

Now that he had her though, he didn't quite know what to do with her. He should arrest her, but what would that to do Fraser, and how would it affect his cover. He had a pretty good idea that this woman was bad news.

He thought for a moment, ignoring the venomous looks from Metcalfe as he rummaged through her bag. The gun was an interesting discovery and he made sure the safety was on. At the bottom he found what he was looking for, a cell phone. Thirty minutes later he was meeting Turnbull outside. He didn't know who else to call.

This was definitely not in the playbook, but together they'd figure out a way to protect Fraser and Vecchio.

He's one of those people who would be enormously improved by death. --H.H. Munro.

End Displacement by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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