Jon Krause laughed. "She'd sell her firstborn if she thought it'd serve her."

Agent Ian Mitch.e.l.l sat across from the CIA agent, his thick British accent making him sound ever more distinguished than he knew to be true. "Do you plan on apprising the admiral?"

"No."

"Any idea what she is up to then, Jon?" Mitch.e.l.l asked.

"The admiral is setting up O'Brien."

"To remove him?"

"In a manner of speaking," Krause responded. "It isn't his intention to remove him physically, but to compromise him."

"And Claire?"

Krause shrugged. "She won't allow that."

"Sleeping with the enemy now?" Mitch.e.l.l asked. Jon Krause nodded. "So then; what?" Krause smiled and the MI6 agent nodded his understanding with satisfaction. "You think she will remove the contact?" he asked. "Ah...You want me make certain the role is filled."

"You always were quick, Ian."

"Who is the contact?"

"Doesn't matter," Krause answered.

Ian Mitch.e.l.l understood. "This congressman of yours, he and the Brackett girl; they were the downfall; weren't they? His, I mean."

"They were the catalyst, yes."

"Why not just kill him?" Mitch.e.l.l asked. Krause sighed. "I see. More painful this way. I understand, Jon. If it had been Elliot they killed....I..."

"I know," Krause answered. "I made a promise, Ian. A long time ago. We all did."

"Yes, we did. When?"

"Thursday. Corsica."

"I'll make the arrangements," Mitch.e.l.l answered. Krause gave a slight nod of appreciation and moved to take his leave when he felt his friend's hand stop him. "Jon, if what you suspect is true. You know what that means." Ian Mitch.e.l.l was part of the same unique brotherhood as Jon Krause. He was a ghost made of flesh; a man who had few verifiable connections and yet had traveled to nearly every inch of the globe. It was an elite group. They were men who spoke many languages, endeared world leaders and then a.s.sa.s.sinated them. They traded in arms and they laundered money. They could buy elections and sell entire governments. They were the ghosts engineered by men who believed themselves G.o.ds. These ghosts possessed rare skills and enviable talents; abilities very few could lay claim to. The reality was that G.o.ds sometimes underestimated their minions. A ghost is a dangerous adversary, even for a G.o.d.

"Ian?" Krause began. "There will be company."

"You sound certain."

"I am."

Mitch.e.l.l nodded. "I'll be certain they see him." Krause smiled. "Jon, be careful. It is in the family now." Krause understood. This had been his family all his life. He felt a crawling sensation creep through his body. He'd accepted what he'd been given with open arms. He wondered now why his eyes had not followed that same path.

lex sighed and turned her back from side to side. She hated flying and was relieved to be able to stretch the length of her tall form. The motel room seemed cold compared to home. The sooner she completed this task, the better. In spite of the teasing she endured about her pension for spy movies and The X-Files, Alex did not truly enjoy the undercover aspect of her profession. Most people in the intelligence community regarded the NSA as a place lined by endless desks and computer screens; a high tech, low risk brand of intelligence. She laughed as she retrieved her uniform and shook her head. The NSA engaged in as much espionage as any intelligence agency. Their focus, and this was always troubling to her, was listening in on private conversations and communications. Unfortunately, Alex had learned that there was often reason to do so. There were people with agendas, all kinds of agendas. Some were zealots, others were entrepreneurs; both posed risks to the safety and welfare of the country and its citizens.

Slowly, she unzipped the long garment bag that held her Army uniform. Alex was no longer an inconspicuous agent. The press coverage of Ca.s.sidy's abduction and the continued focus on her presence at President John Merrow's funeral meant that someone would almost certainly recognize her. There would be no aliases. She needed her military credentials to be reinstated and to appear authentic. Jane Merrow knew the one person who could do that and would do so without hesitation.

Matthew Waters was that person. Waters had followed his father's footsteps in many ways, attending the Air Force Academy, flying planes and serving his country with distinction. There was one thing he loved above all else and that was his sister. Alex learned that firsthand when she and John Merrow were at Walter Reed recovering. Jane Merrow's brother was a major then. He had climbed the ladder quickly and now held the rank of Brigadier General. Alex was well aware that Jane Merrow was Matthew Water's light. The pair often reminded Alex of her and Nick. She was certain that he would want answers about the president's a.s.sa.s.sination and that Jane's request would be granted without question. Alex held up her uniform and closed her eyes for a moment. Today, she would again be Captain Alexis Toles. It was a role she missed at times. Today, she wondered where it might lead her.

"So....It is...o...b..ien that is headed to France."

Brian Fallon nodded. "It would appear so."

"Interesting," Taylor pondered the information. "Why would Tate know that? Brackett?"

"I think so, yes. Sir?"

"Yes, Agent?"

Fallon's jaw tightened and he licked his lips. "He came to you."

Michael Taylor pushed the chair away from his desk and stroked his chin as he considered his response, taking several moments to gauge the man before him. Agent Brian Fallon's expression was unwavering. It was impossible to discern what Fallon was thinking and Taylor found himself wondering what it would be like to play poker with the generally affable agent. The director's eyes narrowed slightly as the tension in his jaw increased. "He did."

"Does Agent Toles know this?" Fallon asked calmly.

"No."

Looking to the ceiling, Brian Fallon shook his head. "Sir, if Agent Toles...."

"Agent Toles is acting on information from an informant. That is what she knows. That is all she knows. Just as I do not know from whom she attained her needed credentials."

"Why would Tate come to you?" Fallon asked with some concern. "Playing both ends against the middle? Did he tell you about O'Brien?"

The NSA director smiled genuinely. "Agent Fallon," he paused and offered the agent a long stare. "Everyone in this game plays both ends against the middle." Fallon remained stoic as the director measured his response. "Perhaps the a.s.sistant director expects that Alex will uncover more in New Mexico than just information on an old project. I don't know. Perhaps he does not wish to compromise Agent Brackett. What his agenda is; I can't say."

"What if it is a trap?"

Taylor shrugged. "Could be."

"You sent Toles into a potential trap without telling her that?" Fallon's voice rose slightly.

"Agent, it is always potentially a trap. That is what we do. Agent Toles knows what she is doing. She does not need the ident.i.ty of the informant distracting her from her objective."

"So, what about O'Brien? I go to France?" Fallon asked.

"You go nowhere. Stay on Brackett and Tate."

"Brackett is likely already in France."

"Distinct possibility, yes," Tate replied.

"And we just pretend that doesn't matter? Don't you think that could be the lead we need? At least you should tell Alex."

"Agent Fallon, listen to me. Agent Toles did not want you brought into this mix at all. You are an intelligent and savvy investigator but this is not typical police work. Connections run deep. People make a career of a.s.sessing one another in this business. If Tate is compromising himself in any way, he will be cautious what he gives and to whom. He's throwing breadcrumbs. Why? I don't know. That is not our focus...not yet, anyway. Toles needs a clear head." The NSA director stopped and took a sip from his coffee cup. "I a.s.sume you already sent her the information."

"I did."

"Fine then. I am certain Alex will follow the trail to France."

"She's in...."

Taylor laughed. "Agent...Trust me. You stay on the trail within the bureau. I'm sure you are right; if Brackett is MIA, she went ahead. The question is why. Follow that. If she's gone take the opportunity."

"You want me to go into her personal life? Her private quarters; I mean?"

"There is no such thing as privacy in this business. Yes."

"Ca.s.sidy?" Ca.s.sidy was pacing the kitchen, wiping the counter for what Rose counted as the tenth time. "You could perform surgery on that counter it is so clean," the older woman grabbed her daughter's hand and stopped its motion. "I'm sure Alex is fine."

Ca.s.sidy released the towel in her hand and let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm sure she is."

"This isn't just about her being away; is it?"

The teacher shook her head, made her way to the small table at the far side of the kitchen, and slumped into a chair. "She was so upset before she left." Rose followed her daughter and took a seat at the table, resting her face gently on her hand as she listened. "I thought they were nightmares about Iraq."

"But?"

"I don't understand, Mom. How can a parent treat their child that way?" She looked out the back door window at Dylan as he ran across the yard chasing a soccer ball.

"Are we still talking about Alex here?"

"What?" Ca.s.sidy turned her attention back to her mother.

"Uh-huh...Ca.s.sie, what is going on?"

Ca.s.sidy covered her face with her hands and shook her head. She could feel the tears beginning to sting the back of her eyes. "She thinks he hates her."

"You mean Alex? She thinks her father hates her."

"Why wouldn't she?"

Rose chuckled "Ca.s.sie....parents are just people."

"I know that," Ca.s.sidy said, returning her gaze out the door.

"You can't change who his father is," Rose chimed.

Ca.s.sidy nodded and pursed her lips. A soft smile began to take shape as she watched her son raise his hands over his head triumphantly. He was quite obviously engaged in a make believe match of some kind and clearly he was the victor. Unconsciously, she shook her head, "no, I suppose I can't." Her mother studied the younger woman's expression as Ca.s.sidy slowly turned toward her. "We need to talk."

Claire Brackett smiled as she rose from the bed and made her way toward the large chair across the room, retrieving her clothes along the way. "You should visit more often," the man behind her said.

"You think?" she answered coyly.

"Oui, quel meilleur endroit pour apprendre sur l'amour, (Yes, where better to learn about love)?" he asked.

"Love?" Claire Brackett laughed as she slipped her arms through her blouse and picked up the jacket on the chair. She gently reached into the deep pocket of her coat and fondled the cool plastic she felt there. A devious smile of satisfaction crept onto her face as she expertly placed her left hand in the large bag next to the chair. She flipped the long, black cylinder into her hand. "You think this is love?" she cooed.

The man in the bed stretched his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, "Ah,qu`est-ce que l'amour? Seulement un moment commun entre deux mes (Ah, what is love? Only a common moment between two souls)." He sighed, a contented smile gracing his pale face.

Claire Brackett twisted the long cylinder gently. Feeling it click firmly into place; she turned slowly. "Et l'amour, comme tous les moments tire sa fin (and love, like all moments come to an end)." She looked at the figure sprawled in satisfaction and raised her eyebrow. The weight in her hand was almost as seductive as the expression on his face. Her finger found its destination and carefully applied the needed pressure. "Mieux vaut avoir aime et perdu que ne jamais avoir aime du tout (Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all)."

His eyes opened slightly only to capture a brief glimpse of the figure now hovering above him. "Why?"

The redheaded agent stroked his cheek and shut his eyes. "Love is a fool's game, Elliot. And I am no fool." She kissed his forehead and retrieved her bag. "Il n'y as qu'un seul cote a jouer, un seul (There is only one side to play on. Only one)," she whispered as she closed the door behind her.

"Captain Toles."

"Major. Thank you for taking the time," Alex responded. There was a unique presence about Alex Toles when she donned her uniform. It was confidence. The simple truth was that Alex felt most comfortable as Captain Toles. There were still times she regretted her decision to give up her military career and join the FBI. She often wondered what made her feel so strongly about her service. It had been that way from the beginning and her time in Iraq had only served to strengthen the feeling.

"Is this for an investigation, Captain?"

Alex smiled. The Major's demeanor immediately told her that he recognized her and not simply by the badge she was wearing. She had decided that she would be as forthright as she felt was prudent in this endeavor. "In a manner of speaking, yes, Major."

Major Gregory Black nodded his understanding as he gestured for Alex to follow him down a long, narrow hallway. "I only met him a couple of times," the Major said solemnly as they reached a metal door at the far end of the corridor. Alex offered him an appreciative smile. "He was a reasonable and honorable man," the Major offered. Alex nodded as he held the door open for her. "If you need anything," he said.

"Major?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"If you don't mind...this visit..."

"You don't even need to ask, Captain." Alex smiled and watched him leave.

Rose McCollum fingered the rim of her wine gla.s.s as she regarded her daughter closely. Ca.s.sidy was uncharacteristically wringing her hands in her lap and had not raised her eyes to meet her mother's in long minutes. "Ca.s.sie..."

"I know," Ca.s.sidy said in a hushed voice.

"What is it that you think you know?"

A heavy sigh escaped the younger woman and she shook her head. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."

"Ca.s.sidy Rose McCollum," Rose chastised playfully. Ca.s.sidy's eyes flew open at the sound of her name through her mother's laughter. "What I feel is some relief."

"What?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ca.s.sie. I can't tell you how many times I wondered how a blockhead like Christopher O'Brien could father such a beautiful child. I just thanked G.o.d he seemed to inherit your genes." Rose moved from her seat to sit beside her daughter on the couch. She placed her arm around Ca.s.sidy's shoulder as her tone softened. "Everything happens for a reason, Ca.s.sie. Everything. That little boy upstairs, there is your reason."

Ca.s.sidy leaned her head against her mother as a few tears trickled over her cheek. "What do I do now?"

Rose smiled and brushed her daughter's hair aside. "Do you need to do anything?"

"I don't know."

"Mm.... Ca.s.sie, what is it that you want to do?"