"That's the first time I've seen you sound less than civil." She crossed to the other side of the room. "You don't realize this, but I'm doing this for your own good."

"That's the first time I've heard you sound like my mother." His arm sank.

"We both know I'm in a mess. What youdon't know is that I've been in worse than this, and come out smelling like a rose. It's what I excel at. I'll do the same this time, if I can keep you out of my way. When it's all over we can kiss and make up."

"How do you know I won't write you up in my report?"

"Same reason I know you aren't going to shoot me. Like it or not, we're in this together." She stepped into her underpants, and pulled them up. "Let's face it, you're dying to see what rabbit I pull out of my hat. Look, nothing up my sleeve."

He watched her fasten her bra, and put her sweater on. "What's the big deal about this case?"

"Does the expression 'loose lips sink ships' mean anything to you?" Sadie said.

"The agency has taken worse hits than this. What's the worst that can happen?"

"The girl could go to the media, and spill what she knows. Hell, sheis the media."

"We put a few spin doctors on it." Pip shrugged. "So, one got by us."

Sadie stopped dressing. "Sometimes your naiveteastounds me. You don't get it, do you? The press, for all its principles, has never informed the public on anything we didn'tallow them to reveal. I know America is largely ignorant of this fact, but I gave you more credit than that."

"That's ridiculous."

"You think so? Let me ask you a Zen kind of question. If the press doesn't report a story, did it happen?"

"Of course."

"Think about it. How would the public know? Say the USSR fell, and there was nobody to report it? Think back to when the generals read the writing on the Berlin Wall, and saw the Cold War collapsing in front of their eyes. They rushed to Congress with a scenario involving nuclear subs, and MIG fighters in our air space, of missiles being sold to a third-world lunatic, and squawked about the need for a military build-up. They managed to subvert the truth-all in the people's interest, of course-until the check cleared. They got their money right before the Kremlin collapsed. The people were so excited about the Wall coming down they were too busy celebrating to read the fine print. Everybody got what they need, and nobody complained."

"That's theoretical nonsense."

Sadie looked sideways at him. "That's what you think."

"The Press is not our enemy. They report events as they happen, they don't invent them."

"They report what's in their best interest. When was the last time you saw an Op Ed piece in the paper masquerading as hard news? Chances are this morning, if you read the Washington Post. The government takes it on the chin for being deceitful and manipulative. But, nobody is as adept at sleight of hand in public relations as the almighty Press. They chase down rumor and innuendo, and label it Truth. Sometimes they get it right, sometimes they don't. Who's to know? If Americans are suspicious of their elected officials-and they have every reason to be-they should be even more skeptical about mass media. He who controls public opinion, rules the world."

"You'd make a great fascist. So, this reporter committed the sin of happening onto something you did. And, she refuses to be managed by you. So, she has to die?"

"You're missing the point entirely. Why do I even bother with you?"

He shrugged. "Because I'm the best sex you ever had?" The phone rang in the dining room. "You better get it. I'm all tied up."

When she returned, she finished dressing, and belted on her holster. "I'll be back." She opened a dresser drawer and took out her gun.

"So, that's where you put your sidearm."

"Were you looking for it?" Sadie picked up his clothes, and threw them on the bed. "I'll let you keep your dignity. But, admit it, if the roles were reversed you'd leave me naked, wouldn't you?"

"If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't leave you."

She seated her pistol in the holster. "I have to go now."

"I can't let you," he said, raising his gun. "If I can't go, neither can you."

"Wow, you really surprise me. We'll talk about it later."

"Freeze," he said, pulling back the hammer.

"Bye," she said, and started through the door.

"Don't make me do it."

He held his breath and squeezed the trigger. His hand was steady and his aim dead on. He weighed the decision before pointing the barrel of the Colt 45-G in her direction. But, she gave him no alternative. He braced himself for the explosion.

"I can't believe you actually shot at me." Sadie leaned inside the doorway. "I honestly did not see that coming."

Pip realized he hadn't heard the slam. He fired again. Click . He stared at the gun.

"I never have sex without precautions," she said. "And, neither should you. That's good advice."

"You removed the clip. When? Ah, yes, when I went for a drink."

"Life insurance. You never know when a lover is going to turn nasty on you."

"I'm shooting blanks."

"First time today, baby. I've been very impressed by your performance, though. Imagine, actually trying to kill me. Aren't you adorable? I wasn't sure you had it in you."

He lowered the weapon between his knees. "Neither was I. Funny. I can't say I'm not glad you aren't dead."

"Why Pip, you say the sweetest things."

Sadie looked at him. His fine-spun hair was disheveled, and his wrist was hanging forlornly from the handcuff. She had a repugnant feeling of compassion.

"When I get back, I'll beg your forgiveness. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me. I may take you up on it. I may insist on your changing places with me."

"You want to make me your prisoner?" Her eyes gleamed. "Whatever turns you one. If I didn't have someplace to be, I'd take you up on it. Any last requests?"

"A blindfold, and a cigarette?"

"But, you don't smoke."

"Then, how about a kiss. I have one hand tied behind my back. Take off your piece, and leave it out there. I just want to feel you up one last time."

"You talk as if I'm not coming back," Sadie said.

"I don't think you are."

Sadie studied him for a moment. He was up to something. There was more going on behind his sensual stare than thoughts of seduction. But, what could he possibly be thinking? All the advantages were in her favor. She had out-matched him every step of the way. What in the world did he hope to accomplish with this rather obvious ruse? The cautious cop side of her nature struggled briefly with the wanton woman inside her before coming to a decision. She unbuckled her holster, and left it in the hall.

Geoff said, "I'm not leaving you, so you better get over yourself. I won't interfere with whatever it is you think you have to do, but I'm staying right here."

"Why do you have to be so obstinate all the time?" Glenn opened the car door. "Oh, all right, don't listen to good advice. But, if you won't go away at least park over there behind the rhododendrons."

"All the way over there. Why?"

"Think about it. We're targets here. We have to split up."

"What does that have to do with my mom?"

She touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips. "I made a promise that I would do everything in my power to protect your parents from ever having to go through anything like what happened to Bobby."

"I want the same thing."

"I know you do." She kissed him on the cheek, then climbed out of the car.

"If anything goes wrong, I'll be back," he said.

"If anything goes wrong, you get to Shane."

"I'll be back." He pointed his finger at her. "I'll be watching."

"Listen, there's film in that camera. It wouldn't hurt to point it in my direction, and take a picture if anything happens."

He nodded, and drove away.

She wrapped her coattails around her, and sat on a spongy knoll. There was time to rethink every step she'd taken over the past few days. Oddly enough, the only thing she didn't regret was opening her heart to Geoff. Somehow he'd thrown a net around her like a cold-blooded carp, and hauled her ashore to be clubbed, scaled, and filleted. She'd had her middle ripped open, and exposed for the world to see. And, it didn't hurt a bit.

The sound of a motor made her look up from the sculpture she was fashioning from blades of grass. It was a pickup truck: dinged, dented, red paint faded to pink. It roared past, kicking up gravel, and belching exhaust fumes. Glenn went back to her art until she tired of it, then jammed her hands in her coat pockets. A smooth object brushed against her fingers, and she brought it out to have a look. She peeled back the red wrapping, and discovered an ornament shaped like a gingerbread man. It was made of cookie dough, and had a crooked smile shellacked to its face. A hole in his forehead had a string through it. On the back of it were scrawled the name 'Bri', and the date.

A vehicle sounded its arrival. It had the whine of a motorcycle engine. The rider was wearing a snowmobile suit. Even with that, and a visored helmet, Glenn didn't envy him. Winter is still winter, even on a temperate December day. She watched him roll past her. As her head came back around, she saw the van creep over the hill. She rose to her feet, and returned the gingerbread man to her pocket. The van stopped, and two men got out. She let them come to her. The one closest put his hand inside his overcoat, and pulled out a wallet which he flipped open. She glanced at the CIA insignia, and his picture. The other man stood in front of the van grill with his hands folded in front of him.

"Miss Prentiss?"

She chewed on her lip. "I feel like I'm a five year old, and you're a stranger with candy."

"I was sent by Commander Justin Knight," he said.

"Do I have to ride in that? In back, I suppose?"

"Afraid so."

"I don't guess there are any windows back there?"

"That wouldn't be prudent."

"Not at this juncture," she said, and giggled. "I'm sorry."

"Damn Dana Carvey," he said.

It was the most human thing she'd ever heard from a federal cop, and it made her trust him. He put his left arm around her back, took her right hand in his right hand. She felt like singing, 'do-si-do!' They walked over to the other man at the van. Thoughts of Geoff flooded her mind, hiding in the bushes, watching.

"I can get Commander Knight on the phone," the man said. "He's standing by."

"Any idea how long I'm going to be sealed inside this sardine can?"

"No longer than necessary."

"That'sso comforting."

The other man stepped forward, and opened the back of the van. She noticed a strip of adhesive tape across the bridge of his nose. The inside corners of his eyes were green-black.

"I know you," she said. "Shoulders." He looked straight ahead. "He's not holding a grudge, is he?"

"Field operatives don't hold grudges," her escort said.

"He looks mad, though. Is he mad?" she asked.

"He always looks that way."

"Guess that's a good quality to have in your profession."

She looked at Shoulders again. His head turned, and his eyes focused on something down the road. The other agent rushed her forward. Then, she heard it, too. The motorcycle topped the hill. Glenn saw the rider lift his hand. Her escort lifted her with his left arm, and dumped her into the van like he was loading laundry. Her head hit the back of the seat, and she landed on her belly. She heard gunfire, and clamped her hands over her ears. Not again !

"No," she cried, into the corrugated metal floor. "Help me! Oh God, help me."

19.

Glenn heard the motorcycle buzz. The one door near her head slammed, and someone shouted. She opened her ears, but kept her eyes clenched. Leather shoes pattered alongside the van, a door opened, a voice spoke. If only that screaming would stop. Shut up. Silly, woman . Why wouldn't that woman stop screaming? Shut up, shut up .

"A man is down. We're coming in. From the southeast. Over the mountain."

Glenn pried her eyes open, and looked into the corner behind the wheel well. She inched toward it when a loud thud thumped against the door. A shadow fell across the doorway of the exit. She braced herself against the wall. A groan came through the opening.

"He's hurt," said her escort. "Bad."

Glenn looked at Shoulders, his eyes staring past the butterfly bandage at the top of his nose into some void near the soles of her shoes. It may have been heroism that made her do it...mixed with stupidity...three parts hero, one part stupidity, a disaster cocktail. Something from the lizard part of the brain, the limbic region that spawned impulses, drives, and urges to act beyond thought or reason, beyond health and safety, beyond personal survival spoke to her.

Fight or flight.