Disclaimer: The characters and the premise of the following
piece of fan fiction are not my property. They are solely the
creations of those who worked so hard to make "Prey" a
reality. I've just borrowed them for a bit, and hopefully
have treated them well.
Explanation: This story, my version of what would have
been "Prey"'s Episode 21, carries on my alternate universe for
"Prey", in which Tom was captured by a secret faction in the
intelligence community, caged, experimented on, and
eventually rescued. This is the ninth "Prey" story I've written
(whew!) and the fourth and final chapter or episode in the
"Conspiracies" storyline.
This story and all the others I've written wouldn't have been
possible without the inspiration of Sharon, who is the one
who first made me think I could write and who pitched in to
straighten out two key scenes in this story, and Marruzella, who
alternately cheers me on and warns me to rest, both of which
I need. I'm truly grateful to Pat and Leslie for being such patient
beta-readers for me again this time, and to Joan, who agreed
to help out as well despite undergoing painful knee surgery
partway through. Pat, Leslie, and Joan had a major hand in
determining parts of the story, and it wouldn't be what
it is without their advice, their suggestions, and their quick
thinking in catching all of my mistakes. I'm also grateful to
Diane S. for helping me with my thorny punctuation problems,
and for the kittens, who have become such an integral part of
the story. And to Maggie Barnett, mother of Callie, a very
special thank you .... a comment she made about Tom and
Sloan a long (long!) time ago inspired part of this story.
When I released Part 3, I included a summary of past plot
points to bring you up to date with what's happened, and
that's even more necessary this time around, since it's been
almost six months since Part 3 came out. My apologies for
the long delay .... this last chapter of "Conspiracies" is twice
the normal length of my past chapters in an attempt to wrap
up as many of the story's threads as I could, and so it took
twice as long to write.
The first storyline I wrote in Episodes 13 and 14 dealt
with Tom's imprisonment by the secret faction and his
eventual rescue. In it, I introduced a new character, Marcus
Adams, who leads the dominants' peace movement in my
alternate universe .... Marcus had discovered that Tom was
one of the Chosen and offered to help rescue Tom in the hope
that Tom would one day agree to work with him. I also brought
back Shane, the teenaged boy Tom had helped in Episode 9
of "Prey".
In my next storyline, "Choices", which covered Episodes 15, 16,
and 17, Tom dealt with the nightmares that haunted him as a
result of his imprisonment, and eventually came to realize that
he had been held in similar circumstances during his training
with Lewis. He and Sloan took in Shane, who was being stalked
by his father, Charles Baker, and tried to help him when Charles
threatened to send Shane's eleven-year-old brother Trevor to
chameleon training school if Shane refused to return home. Trevor
quickly became a pawn in a struggle of wills between Charles
and Tom, and a valuable commodity to the secret faction that
had held Tom .... the faction's leader, the mysterious man in
the suit, had Trevor captured and put in the same cage Tom had
been held in as a way of luring Tom back. Tom, with the help
of Marcus, Marcus' assistant Sam Anderson, and Marcus'
commando team leader Jason Stuart, rescued Trevor and
captured the man in the suit, who they discovered to be a
shadowy and powerful player in the intelligence community
named Drew Richards.
By the end of "Choices", Tom and Sloan had invited both
Shane and Trevor to live with them, and Sloan had helped
Tom come to terms with his nightmares about his time
in the cage. She and Ed had also helped him cope with the
discovery that an implant Lewis had ordered placed in him
during his chameleon training had left him sterile.
In "Conspiracies", which covers Episodes 18, 19, 20,
and now 21, Tom and Sloan have been settling into their new
life together with Shane and Trevor. With the help of
Sloan's landlady, Ellen Peabody, and Ellen's son Davey,
they're busy renovating the apartment next to Sloan's to
make a home for the boys. Charles Baker and his wife
Judith are determined to get the boys back, however, and
Judith proves to be as ruthless as Charles in her dealings
both with the boys and with Sloan.
Walter Attwood and Marcus Adams, meanwhile, have
officially joined forces, agreeing that their two labs will
work together to stop the dominants' plans to eradicate
humans. Two of Marcus' scientists, Martin Donovan
and Sarah Fielding, are assigned to work as liaison
between Marcus' lab and Walter's as the combined staffs
face their first joint project: to disrupt a series of mind-
control experiments on human subjects being conducted
by dominant scientists. Martin and Sarah have also
agreed to help Ed and Sloan investigate Tom's sterility
problem. With Tom's consent, Ed removed the
implant a few days before the "Conspiracies" storyline
begins, and Ed is now monitoring Tom's recovery.
Martin and Sarah are very different dominants .... Martin,
raised by his parents to mix freely with humans, is
open and engaging and quickly becomes friends with
Ed, while Sarah antagonizes both Ed and Walter at their
first meeting with her stiff reserve and seeming mistrust
of humans. Both men soon realize, though, that she's
more awkward than she is mistrustful, and with Tom and
Sloan's help, Ed and Sarah put aside their suspicions
of each other and take the first tentative steps toward
a friendship and possibly more.
Tom also helps Marcus and Sam assess the sincerity
of a member of the dominants' Head Council, Roger
Abbott, who wants to throw his support behind them. They
reject Abbott's offer after Tom meets with a former informant
of Drew Richards', a man code-named Jacob, who tells him
that Abbott's true intent is to infiltrate the peace movement
and destroy it.
Tom's meeting with Jacob gains him an ally inside the
dominant Council. Jacob, a senior bureaucrat whose
real name is David Armstrong, is in love with a human
woman named Laura and finds his loyalties to the Council
waning in the face of his need to keep her safe. Tom vows
to protect Laura in exchange for David's information, and
David in turn warns Tom that someone inside the peace
movement has gone to the Council with a plan to destroy the
movement from within.
Tom asks Ed to hack into the Council's surveillance
files on peace movement members to see if they can
identify the traitor, and in doing so, Ed discovers the truth
about Marcus Adams .... that he'd been planted in the peace
movement by the Council twenty years earlier in order to cripple it.
Ed, Walter, and Sam confront Marcus, who admits to his past but
denies being the traitor, insisting that he'd changed sides
years ago and fully believes in peace. They accept his explanation,
but relations between Marcus and Sam are badly strained.
By this time, Tom's search for the traitor has turned
dangerous. When Tom agrees to a plan to disable a shutdown
mechanism Lewis had placed in his mind, someone rigs the
computer he's hooked up to to electrocute him, and Sam and
Sloan have to revive him using CPR. Suspicion falls on the four
people involved in programming the computer, including Marcus,
Martin, and Sarah .... and Sam has Sarah arrested after
incriminating evidence is found in her office and her house.
Marcus refuses to believe she's guilty, though, and convinces
Sam to re-examine the evidence with Walter and Ed's
help.
While they work late into the night, Martin Donovan's
sister Meredith meets secretly with Harris Templeton
of the Council, and it becomes clear that she and Martin,
not Sarah, are the real traitors.
That same night, the Bakers and Roger Abbott launch
an attack on Sloan's apartment, intent on having Tom either
captured or killed and Shane and Trevor returned to their
parents. Tom's contact, David Armstrong, knows about the
attack, having insinuated himself into the planning sessions
in order to gather information, and calls Tom in enough time
to warn him. Both Sloan and Trevor are safely out of the way
when the attack is launched .... Sloan is meeting with David
and is well-guarded by Jason Stuart and one of his teams,
while her neighbors Ellen Peabody and Mr. Carmichael are
hiding Trevor in Mr. Carmichael's basement apartment. Jason
has another one of his teams positioned outside the apartment
building to stop the attack, but a few attackers get through and
Tom, Davey, and Shane fight them off before help arrives. As
this final chapter of the "Conspiracies" storyline opens, David,
Jason, and Sloan arrive at the apartment shortly after the attack,
and Tom has decided it's time to start fighting back against the
Bakers and Roger Abbott.
"Conspiracies", Part 4
----------------------------------
By Sue Burke
"Tom."
Tom Daniels looks up to see Sloan Parker standing in the doorway,
her eyes wide with worry, and she walks into his arms in a rush.
Shutting out the sight of Jason Stuart and David Armstrong hovering
at the door, Tom closes his eyes and holds her against him, breathing in
her fresh scent and feeling her tremble in his arms.
"I'm all right, Sloan," he says quietly, resting his lips against her hair.
"I'm all right."
She clutches him to her, finally letting go of some of the tension
that had gripped her since that moment on the hill when she'd heard about
the attack on their apartment. "Did they hurt you?"
"They tried, but Davey and Shane fought them off." Tom rubs her
back gently with one hand, keeping the other tight around her.
"Where are they?" Pulling back, she stares around the empty living
room. "Are they all right?"
"Davey's been hurt, but they're taking good care of him." With a quick
nod to Jason and David, Tom gently pulls away from Sloan to take
her hand and lead her across the living room. "He was unconscious for
a while, but one of Jason's med techs brought him to and Ellen's been
keeping watch over him ever since."
"Poor Ellen." Sloan clutches his hand as he leads her to the half-
opened bedroom doors. "What happened here? We only got bits
and pieces through Jason's radio on the way over."
"There were more of them than we expected, but Jason's men stopped
them in the end. Most of the attackers were killed, but a few survived
with only minor injuries .... Jason's men cleared the last of them out a
few minutes ago and are taking them back to the lab for questioning."
Tom stands back to let Sloan enter first, and she falters slightly as she
catches sight of Davey's white face as he lies on their bed, his eyes closed.
Ellen, perched next to him, looks up with a strained smile, and
Shane and Trevor, sitting on the other side, both jump up at the sight
of her.
"Sloan!" Trevor says with relief, and rushes over to give her a clumsy
one-armed hug. The faded calico kitten he clutches to his chest with
his other hand squeaks in protest as Sloan hugs him back tightly, and
she pulls back with a chuckle, glancing down at its small, pointed face.
"You've still got your friend safe with you, I see," she says, looking up at
Trevor, and Trevor nods, a lock of blond hair falling over his brow. "She's
called Smudge," he replies, looking down at the kitten. "Mr. Carmichael
named her."
"He did, did he?"
Trevor nods again. "She knocked a bottle of ink over on his desk and
got her paws smudged." He lifts one inky paw up to show her. "After
she left paw prints all over his furniture, he said we should call her
Smudge."
"So he was nice, was he?"
"He didn't get mad, even when Smudge left ink on his shirt. And he
kept us safe down in the basement when the men attacked, just
like Mrs. Peabody said he would."
"Were you scared?"
"A little, at first," Trevor admitted. "But Mr. Carmichael had booby
traps set up everywhere, and he said he wouldn't let anyone get to me."
"We'll have to thank him, won't we?" Sloan says, hugging Trevor to her
one more time and then looking up at Shane. "Are you okay?" she asks,
taking in the strain still evident on his face.
Shane nods silently, his eyes glancing past her to Tom.
"He saved my life," Tom says quietly. "One of Roger's men got through
and had me down on the ground. Shane knocked him out with one of
the lamps."
"I think I bent it," Shane confesses with a worried frown.
"Good for you," Sloan says fervently, walking over to give him a fierce
hug. "A lamp I can replace."
"I'll pay for it." He hugs her back, his breath warm against her neck, and
she tightens her hold on him. "Don't you dare," she warns him, and then
lowers her voice. "Thank you," she whispers in his ear. "Thank you for
keeping him safe."
Shane nods wordlessly, his head moving against her hair, and they share
a moment together before pulling apart to smile mistily at each other.
"How's Davey doing?" Tom asks Ellen.
"Better," she responds, reaching forward to pat down the blanket covering
her sleeping son's chest. "Your friend's medic says he's got a nasty
bump on his head and a concussion, but other than that he'll be fine. I've
given him a cup of my tea, and I'll keep waking him regularly to make sure
he's okay."
Tom hesitates, taking a deep breath. "There are things we should
have told you before now, Ellen .... things that would help explain what
happened here tonight."
"So I gathered." She cocks her head and returns his gaze assessingly.
"Something tells me you're going to now, though."
"Soon," Tom agrees, exchanging a quick glance with Sloan. "But first,
would you stay here tonight? We've got to meet with our friends and
Shane will want to sit in on that, but I don't like leaving Trevor alone,
even if it's just in the next room. I also don't like the thought of you
and Davey going back to your apartment right now."
Ellen flushes with relief. "I was hoping you'd ask," she admits. "I'd
feel safer here myself."
"Davey can use the bed, and you can either lie down beside him to
rest or we can set up a cot for you," Sloan suggests. "We'll bring
another cot in for Trevor .... that way you can all be in here together."
Ellen nods her head, her gaze straying back to Davey. "I'll probably
stay up, but thank you .... I'd like a cot, just in case I get tired."
"We'll get you set up before we start our meeting," Tom promises.
"And then, tomorrow morning, we'll sit down with you and Davey and
Mr. Carmichael, if he'll come." Reaching out, he rests his hand on
Trevor's thin shoulder. "It's time we told you everything."
~*~*~*~
"Nothing." Roger Abbott turns his cell phone off and places it on
the clean surface of his desk.
"No word from any of them?" Charles Baker asks.
Roger shakes his head silently and turns to stare out the window
into the blackness of the night.
"What about the look-out?"
Roger glances back at Judith Baker. "I sent him in with the others."
"You sent him in?" Judith raises her thin brow questioningly.
"We needed every man we could get in there if we were going to
succeed. I saw no reason to hold him back."
"We should have heard from them by now." Charles rises out of
his chair to pace the length of the carpet in front of the windows in
Roger's office. "Something's gone wrong."
"We don't know that," Roger says evenly. "There may have
been a delay, or they could still be cleaning up the last of the
operation."
"They would have called in by now, either way," Charles points
out, glancing back at him. "Something's happened .... they could
be dead for all we know."
"Or worse." Judith stares at Roger coolly. "Daniels and his
people could have taken some of them alive."
"It won't do him any good," Roger says flatly. "All of them were
supplied with suicide pills and given orders to use them in case of
capture."
"How did you manage that?"
"They knew how dangerous it would be if any of them were
questioned. They accepted the risk as part of the mission."
Charles paces the length of the carpet, thinking hard. "What
about David? He knows what we tried to do. If he finds out we failed,
he may decide we're of no further value to him." He looks up at Roger
warily. "He could betray us to the Head of the Council."
"He can't," Judith says dismissively. "He's in this as deep as we
are .... exposing us would mean exposing his own part in the plan."
"I don't like it," Charles persists. "He wasn't part of the original
group. How do we know where his loyalties lie?" His eyes narrow as
he considers the possibilities. "For all we know, he could have been
a plant, passing information back to Harris Templeton."
Judith glances at Roger warily. "He's got a point. David has never
shown much initiative or imagination. He does what he's told, and he's
always answered directly to Harris. I was surprised he was willing to
go along with this."
"Not so surprised that you objected including him in our plan." Roger
stands up, tucking his cell phone in his pocket. "You're both
panicking for no reason. We don't know what's happened, and
until we do, I see no reason to worry. I suggest we go home, get
some rest, and meet back here first thing tomorrow morning
.... by then we should know more."
"And if we don't?" Charles says uneasily.
Roger casts him a look of faint dislike. "Then we'll deal with it,
Charles. One step at a time."
~*~*~*~
Marcus stiffens as he stares at his computer screen, his eyes scanning the
Council surveillance report he's just rechecked. "I think I've got something,"
he murmurs, breaking into the hushed quiet of the testing room.
"What?" Walter asks abruptly, looking up from his own computer.
"Meredith Donovan." Marcus leans back in his chair, frowning in thought.
"It looks like she's been meeting secretly with someone for somet time
now."
"I thought you were working on Martin," Sam says in confusion.
Marcus nods his head, staring at his screen. "I was, and I kept finding
records of her dropping by his house two nights a week for the
past four months or so." He shakes his head. "Always on the same
nights at about the same time. I know those two are close, but still,
the consistency of the meetings had me wondering, so I went back
and checked."
"And?"
"And on the same nights that she met with him, there's a gap in her
surveillance records," Marcus says slowly. "She's logged in as having
left her office late, picked up some dinner at a restaurant nearby, and then
.... nothing. It's as if she disappeared off their radar screen for the next
two hours until she showed up at Martin's house. She usually stayed
there at least an hour and then finally headed home."
"Where do the Council surveillance teams log her as going?" Walter asks
curiously.
"That's the strange thing," Marcus responds, looking up at him.
"They don't. They list the time she'd leave the restaurant and the
time she'd show up at Martin's, but there's no mention of where
she went in between."
"That doesn't make any sense," Sam protests, standing up stiffly and
walking over to study the reports Marcus has printed off. "We've spent the
last few hours staring at surveillance reports, and the one thing we can all
agree on is that they log every minute of every day of the people they're
watching."
"Exactly." Marcus stares back at his computer screen. "Why aren't they
accounting for those two hours? What's she doing that they're keeping
quiet about?"
"And who is she meeting?" Sam muses, shuffling through the computer
print-outs.
"If we assume that she's the traitor, it could be that she's dealing with a
Council member so powerful that they could order the surveillance teams
to leave out all mention of the meetings," Walter suggests. "When does
the last gap occur?"
"That's the other interesting thing," Marcus says, looking over at Walter.
"She disappeared again three nights ago, as usual, and then showed up
at Martin's afterwards. Then, on the following day, she suddenly changed
her pattern. Instead of going home after work, she headed straight
to Martin's and was there almost all night .... the surveillance records show
that she left at close to 04:00 hours in the morning. She showed up at
her office at her regular time of 09:00, and clocked out early in the
afternoon, heading for Martin's place again."
"She called here early in the afternoon looking for him," Sam says
slowly. "She said she had car trouble and needed his help."
Marcus nods. "And you let him go, since you'd finished with him."
Retrieving his notes, he checks them briefly. "He went straight home
and they stayed there together until 23:00 hours when, according to the
surveillance reports, she pulled her car out of his driveway, drove off,
and disappeared again." He looks at his computer screen. "The
Council staff keeps updating their surveillance records every hour
as we sit here, and according to the latest entry, she arrived back
at her house a little after 01:00 hours this morning."
"So suddenly things changed two days ago," Sam says, his gaze lifting
to meet Marcus' troubled one. "Just before Jacob warned Tom that
the traitor may have planted listening devices in Walter's lab and ours."
Marcus nods slowly. "Let's assume she met with her contact
three nights ago and got the bugging equipment from him. She headed
to Martin's place, gave them to him, and he was at Whitney Labs first thing
the next morning, planting them all through the place."
"Sarah saw him in my office first thing that morning, bent under
my desk," Walter points out.
"He was also seen entering Sarah's house that day with a package
under his arm and coming out fifteen minutes later empty-handed,"
Marcus says. "The Council's surveillance team logged it in their
report. Presumably he set one bug aside when he was installing
them in Walter's lab and ours, and planted it in Sarah's bedroom,
still in its package, to make it look like a spare one she hadn't
used."
"They planned on setting her up from the start," Walter muses.
"Didn't she tell Sam that it was Martin who told her to be so aggressive
with us? He knew she'd antagonize us, and that we'd be the first to
suspect her when Tom was hurt."
"So, they planted evidence at Sarah's house and installed bugs
in the main rooms of the two labs." Sam paces behind Marcus' chair
as he tries to put together the pieces of the puzzle. "They picked up
the conversation Tom and I had about Jacob, and heard Tom use Jacob's
real name. They didn't realize what they had until they'd searched
through all of the conversations they'd taped, and that took most
of the night. They finally found it, decided they had to get it to their
contact, and agreed to do it as soon as possible the next day."
"But Martin had to be here first thing in the morning to rig Tom's therapy
session to backfire," Marcus adds. "Now that they'd heard Tom and
Sam's conversation, they knew that someone on the Council or in the
Council offices was passing information on to Tom. They couldn't be sure
whether Tom knew about the bugs, or whether he'd started suspecting
them as the traitors."
"So they decided that he had to die before he got any closer to the
truth," Sam says heavily, fisting his hands on his hips. "And they used
Sarah's computer to rig the accident, knowing that any investigation
would turn up the evidence they'd planted against her."
Marcus nods again. "They split up and agreed to talk on the phone
later in the morning, once Tom was dead." He shakes his head. "She
must have panicked when she tried to call him at the lab and couldn't
get through, so she fabricated the car trouble to get him out of there,
in case something had gone wrong."
"And I played right into their hands and let him go," Sam says grimly.
"They probably spent the rest of the day searching through more
conversations to see what else they could find, and her little trip
last night was to deliver the tape to her contact."
"They must be feeling pretty confident right now," Walter says
reflectively. "Tom may not be dead, but Sarah's in custody and
everything they'd planted makes her look like the guilty party."
"We've got to keep them thinking that way," Marcus says. "At
least until we build enough evidence against them to make
our move."
"And just how do we do what?" Sam asks, still pacing. "All we've got
at this point is supposition, based on surveillance records. We need
something a lot more concrete than this before we can confront them."
"I don't know why," Ed says laconically, appearing in the doorway of
the testing room. "You arrested Sarah with less."
Sam comes to an abrupt halt, looking up to meet Ed's accusing gaze.
"I acted on what I felt was substantive evidence, Ed," he says slowly.
"You acted on evidence they fed you," Ed says tightly. "You did
exactly what they wanted you to and let the man who tried to kill Tom
walk out of this building free."
"I thought you were sleeping, Ed," Walter says, trying to ease the sudden
tension in the room.
"I couldn't," Ed says, his eyes never leaving Sam's. "I decided I'd be of
more help here than lying on a cot out there."
"You will be." Sam takes a step forward. "We'll need you to help us
verify what Marcus has found and figure out a way to catch them in the
act .... if you're willing."
"Will you let Sarah go?"
Sam glances back at Marcus, his eyes shadowed, and shakes his
head regretfully. "We can't, Ed. Not until this is over. Martin and
Meredith have to think we still believe that Sarah's the traitor."
Ed nods his head slowly. "But you don't, now."
"I don't. Not with what we've just found out." Sam hesitates, glancing
back again at Marcus, who watches the two of them silently. "My
judgment hasn't been the best since I found out about Marcus. I was
never comfortable with the evidence we had on Sarah, but I convinced
myself that it was enough." Sam holds his hand out in a gesture of
apology. "I'm sorry, Ed."
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Ed responds, but the
heat has gone out of his words. He may not be a dominant, but he can
sense Sam's sincerity.
"I know," Sam acknowledges. "I'll talk to her as soon as I get
the chance."
Ed hesitates, and finally reaches out to shake Sam's hand.
"She'd like that."
Walter clears his throat politely. "Much as I hate to interrupt, we've
still got the problem of what to do with Martin and Meredith."
Marcus nods thoughtfully. "We've got to do something to make her
meet with her contact again, so that we can follow her."
"What do you have in mind?" Walter asks.
"What about staging a conversation within range of one of their
bugs?" Ed suggests. "She went to her contact with the tape of Tom
and Sam's conversation. Presumably she'd go again if she had
something else equally important."
Sam looks at Ed, his gaze sharpening. "We may be able to use this
to our advantage," he says slowly. "Tom's planning something, I'm not
sure what yet .... something to ensure that Jacob's identity is kept
secret. He may want to use any conversation we stage to help
his plan."
"You spoke to him?" Ed asks. "Is he feeling better?"
Sam nods his head absently, still thinking. "He's all right. They had
some trouble at the apartment tonight, though .... Walter and Marcus
can fill you in on the details. Jacob's there now, and so is Jason
.... Tom called them there to tell them what he was planning."
"You should be there, too," Marcus says, rising out of his chair.
"Tell him what we've found out, and ask him what he wants us to do."
Sam strides quickly over to his chair to grab his coat. "Call him
and tell him I'm on my way."
Walter nods, reaching for the phone.
"Let us know what happens," Marcus calls out, and Sam lifts a hand
in acknowledgement as he rushes out the door, one of the papers he'd
brushed by fluttering to the floor in his wake.
"Well." Marcus turns to Ed, running a weary hand through his hair.
"How would you like to help me go over Martin and Meredith's files again,
just to double-check my facts?"
"You take Meredith," Ed says grimly. "I'll take Martin."
~*~*~*~
"Shane," Tom says quietly, "we need to talk to you about your parents."
Shane looks up from the cardboard box he had been dragging over
to sit on, his heart suddenly catching in his throat. When Tom
and Sloan had asked him to meet with them privately in the
new rooms, he had known this was coming. But still, Tom's words
set him on edge. He takes a deep breath and sits down, waiting
until they settle down beside each other on a large box across from
him before speaking. "What are you going to do?" he asks
cautiously.
Sloan glances uneasily at Tom but keeps silent, slipping her
hand through the crook of his elbow.
"It's what I think we have to do," Tom responds. "They're never
going to leave you alone, not until they have you back, and we've
seen tonight how far they're willing to go."
"Not until they have Trevor back, you mean."
Tom nods his head slowly. "They've made it clear they see him
as their future."
"They'll destroy him," Shane says bleakly.
"That's why we have to stop them. Permanently."
Shane clutches his hands together in his lap, his knuckles whitening
with the force of his tension. "What are you saying?"
"I want to capture them, Shane," Tom says simply. "I want to
have one of Jason's teams bring them in, and then I'll give them a
choice .... either they put their fate in Marcus' hands, or I turn them
over to the Council along with evidence that will make them look like
traitors to their own side." Looking down at Sloan's hand resting
on his arm, he covers it with his own. "It's the only way I can think
of to keep you and Trevor and Sloan safe from them."
"And you," Shane says quietly.
Tom shakes his head, dismissing Shane's words. "You're what's
important, Shane .... the three of you." Hesitating, he chooses his
words carefully. "What I want to do will most likely mean their
deaths if they choose to be handed back to the Council. We both
know that. The Head of the Council may opt to put them through a
re-education program, but I wouldn't bet on it .... my guess is that
he'll want to make them an example of what happens to people who
defy him and his orders."
Shane nods wordlessly, dropping his gaze to stare down at his hands.
"I won't do this if you don't want me to," Tom says slowly.
"If you can't live with this, we'll try to find another way."
"There isn't one," Shane says hollowly. "If there was, you would
have suggested it."
Tom falls silent at this, slowly nodding his head. "I'd do anything
not to put this kind of responsibility on you, Shane," he says finally.
"I've left Trevor out of this completely .... he's too young, and he's been
through too much. But you're old enough to have a say in this. It
wouldn't be fair to you not to let you decide."
Shane stares around him at the rooms he and Davey have been
working so hard on. "You've given us more in the past week than our
parents have given us in our lives," he says, his voice low. "You've
given us a home, and you've made us feel safe."
Biting his lip, he stares at the basket of kittens tucked away in a
corner of the room, all but Trevor's tumbled together in a sleeping
mass of fur. "My parents would go as far as having me killed if they
thought I was the only thing keeping them from getting Trevor back.
Just as they'd have him killed if they ever thought he'd turned traitor
on them."
Taking a deep breath, he looks back at Tom and Sloan. "It's them
or us, Tom. Do what you have to do."
~*~*~*~
"How did it go?" Martin asks, watching his sister shrug her jacket off
and drop it carelessly on a chair nearby.
"He's taking the tape back to the Council offices to have it cleaned up,
to see who Daniels names." She nods her head at the two computers
set up in his study. "Anything more?"
Martin follows her gaze, staring at the computer screen in front
of him. "Nothing so far. I've finished searching through the conversations
we picked up at Whitney Labs .... all I've got left are the ones from
Marcus' lab." He shakes his head. "With the amount of bugs we put in
place, it's taking a long time to download all the information in real
time."
"I'll do the search on Marcus' office and Sam's." Meredith lays her
purse down beside her coat and walks over to take a seat in front of the
second computer.
"You won't find much. They spent most of the day in the testing room
with Walter and Ed, and they kept whatever they discovered to themselves."
"You should have planted bugs there." Meredith casts an admonishing
look at her brother. "I warned you about that."
"I could only do so much," Martin protests. "I was lucky not to get
caught planting the number that I did .... security's tight there at the best
of times."
"You're senior staff, Martin. You should have found a way."
Martin shrugs lightly. "We have enough already. We know that Sam
believes in the evidence we planted to implicate Sarah, and we've got
Tom Daniels on tape naming his source."
"I want more. Search the conversations you downloaded from the
bugs in the general work area at Marcus' lab. See what they're saying
about the investigation and Sarah Fielding .... maybe some information
has leaked out. And check to see what they're saying about you ....
I want to make sure they don't suspect you any longer." Meredith
activates the search program on the computer in front of her. "I'll
focus on conversations in Marcus' office and see if I can pick up
on anything between Marcus and Sam. I need to know what they're
saying."
"They're saying that Sarah is guilty, Meredith," Martin assures her.
"Sam is, at least. Marcus is fighting it, but he can't deny the
evidence."
"He can if they find out it was planted," Meredith answers grimly.
"We can't be entirely sure they don't know that we're listening, either.
Remember .... Daniels' source could have warned him that some of
the offices in Marcus' lab were bugged."
"You worry too much, Meredith .... we've got this under control."
Meredith turns in her chair to face Martin, her eyes hard. "You don't
worry enough, Martin. You never have."
"Meredith .... "
"This mission is too important to gamble on your carelessness ....
not with what's at stake. Our contact has questioned your ability
to function, and I'm beginning to question it myself."
"I can do the job," Martin insists. "I want the movement destroyed
just as badly as you do."
Meredith raises her brow in silence, and he bridles under her
watchful gaze. "You need me, Meredith," he reminds her tightly.
"I'm the one with access to the lab and to the people we're
working to bring down. Without me, you have nothing."
Meredith gives him a cool, mocking look before turning away
to begin her search program on the computer. "So you keep telling
me."
~*~*~*~
"I want to go after Roger Abbott," Tom says flatly. "And Charles
and Judith Baker."
"How?" Sam asks, leaning forward in his seat in one of the two
chairs flanking Sloan's fireplace. Jason sits stolidly in the other one,
his hands resting on his thighs, and David perches on the edge of
the dining room chair he's dragged over next to Jason's.
"By planting evidence that will convince the Council that they've
betrayed them." Tom, sitting on the couch with Sloan and Shane
by his side, surveys all three men calmly. "That way, we'll leave
it to the Council to deal with them."
"They kill traitors," Jason points out quietly, glancing at Shane,
who pales at his words but stays silent.
"In most cases, yes," Tom agrees. "That's why I'm going to give
the Bakers a choice, for Shane and Trevor's sake .... either they
submit to whatever punishment Marcus deems appropriate, or they
take their chances with the Council. Roger Abbott won't get a
choice .... I need him eliminated if my plan is going to work."
"What plan?" David asks cautiously.
"You've said yourself that your boss wants you to clean up the
tape of my conversation with Sam as soon as he gets it, so that he
can hear who I name as my source." Tom leans forward, resting
his elbows on his knees as he looks at David intently. "We both
know that when you do, it's your name that he'll hear. I want you
to alter the tape to make it look as though I've named Roger
Abbott instead."
David stares at him in surprise. "It would have to be a good enough
job to pass detection," he says slowly. "But it could be done, with
enough time."
"How long?" Sam asks.
"A few hours, at least," David estimates. "He plans to page me
as soon as he has the tape .... I could get started as soon as he
does."
"Would that be enough, though?" Jason asks David. "Would he
be convinced just by that one conversation?"
"It wouldn't have to be just one," Sam interjects. "I got here too late to
brief you ahead of time, but we think we've found the traitors inside
the peace movement. We were planning on trapping them by staging
a conversation in one of the bugged rooms, something that would
interest them enough that they'd want to get a tape of it to their contact
as soon as possible."
"Them?" Tom echoes, exchanging a quick glance with Sloan.
"Martin Donovan and his sister Meredith," Sam says flatly.
Tom narrows his gaze. "You found something in the Council
records?"
"Enough, if we can verify it, to implicate them both. She's been
meeting with someone secretly for at least four months, and following
up each meeting with another one with Martin. We think she got the
bugs from her contact and gave them to Martin to plant in Walter's
offices and ours. We also think she delivered a tape to him tonight,
probably of your conversation with me, Tom."
"So you want to lure her into meeting with her contact again," Tom
guesses.
Sam nods. "We'll see who she meets and get the evidence we need
to catch both her and her brother."
"If I'm right, she's meeting with my boss, Harris Templeton."
David hesitates, finding it hard, even now, to betray the people he's
worked with. "He's the one who requisitioned the bugs she gave
Martin and the one who said he was waiting for delivery of the tape
from a contact of his."
Tom nods thoughtfully. "He's expecting to hear the name of whoever's
feeding me information on the Council, so we'll give it to him. Then, in
the staged conversation, we'll talk about Roger as though he's been with
us for months."
"We'd have to be careful," Sam points out. "They probably suspect
that we know about the bugs .... our conversation would have to be
convincing enough to make them think we don't suspect anyone's
listening in."
"What about the attack tonight?" David interrupts with a frown. "Roger tried
to have you captured. Harris will never believe he's working with you after
that."
"He will if we make it look as though Roger only went along with the
attack to keep the Bakers from suspecting anything," Tom responds.
"We could say that he warned me ahead of time, so that I'd be able
to protect myself and the boys."
"And the Bakers? They were in on all the planning sessions, Tom ....
they'll both defend Roger, and Charles has enough power in the Council
offices to make people listen."
"Charles Baker will be too discredited himself to make anyone listen."
Tom glances at Shane, who meets his gaze with a small nod, his face
pale and still.
"What are you planning?" Jason asks.
"Do you have the cage we found Trevor in?" Tom asks, looking
over at him.
Jason nods slowly. "We stored it away, just as you asked."
"What about the surveillance tape of Charles coming in and out of
the plant where Trevor was held?"
"Marcus has it," Jason answers him. "Walter gave it to him in
case he ever needed to use it against Baker."
"Tell him we need to borrow it for a while. We'll also need a copy of the
tape he made of my interrogation with Drew Richards .... the one where he
talks about his dealings with Baker."
Sam looks at him with dawning realization. "You're going to expose
him to the Council as someone who's made a bargain with the opposite
side."
Tom nods his head. "If the Bakers don't agree to be tried by Marcus
and the movement, I'll hand them over to Harris Templeton along with the
tapes. Between that and their part in tonight's attack, they won't have
any credibility left."
"Why the cage?"
Tom's expression darkens. "Before I hand them over, I want them to
get a taste of what it was like for Trevor in that plant."
Sloan, hearing Shane's breath catch at the steely sound in Tom's voice,
reaches for his hand, holding it securely in hers.
"You're close to the Council, David," Sam says, turning to look
at him. "Will the evidence Tom's talking about putting together be
enough to convince them?"
"If we do it right, it will," David responds slowly. "The altered tape
will be enough to make Harris question Roger's loyalty .... he's already
unhappy with him for failing to infiltrate your movement, and he's always
suspected him of being more ambitious than he is prudent."
"What about the Bakers?" Tom asks.
"They're both seen as unswerving loyalists, but neither one has a
secure power base .... they're too arrogant and too anxious to seize
more power. The news that Charles was willing to make a deal with
humans and that he and Judith both defied the Head's edict in
authorizing the attack on Tom will rob them of whatever support they
had."
"What about you, David?" Sloan asks with a worried frown. "Won't
Roger and the Bakers try to implicate you in the attack? You
did sit in on the planning meetings with them."
"They'll try," David admits. "But they won't get far." Hunching his
shoulders slightly, he surveys the group with a self-deprecating smile.
"I may not have your expertise in the field, but I know how Harris
Templeton thinks. He expects me to let him know of any possible
problems among the Council members and staff, and so I've already
filed a report with him warning about concerns I had about Roger
and Charles and Judith. I've told him that I'm keeping an eye on
them, and he's waiting to hear back from me."
"Watching your back?" Tom suggests with a slight smile of his
own.
"Just call it laying the groundwork for what might come," David
answers him.
"When do you want to put your plan into action?" Sam asks Tom.
"David will start work on the tape as soon as his boss contacts him,"
Tom responds. "In the meantime, we should sit down with Marcus
and Walter first thing in the morning in Marcus' office and plan
what we'll say."
"*I'll* sit down with Marcus and Walter," Sam corrects him. "Let me
know what you want us to say, but I want you out of this, at least
publicly."
"Sam .... "
"Martin and Meredith tried to kill you to keep you quiet, Tom," Sam
points out bluntly. "They don't know what your source has told you,
and they're afraid that whoever it is might have identified them as
the traitors. If you show up, they'll either go after you again or decide
to disappear before we can catch them."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Lie low," Sam advises him. "I'll put out the word that your
injuries were greater than we first thought and that you're out of
commission for the moment. Walter and Marcus and I will stage the
conversation, bet on Martin and Meredith to tape it, and then have her
followed to her meeting."
"You'll need someone who can mask themselves well enough to pass
detection," Tom warns him.
Sam gives him a faint smile. "That's why I'm hoping you'll volunteer."
"Sam, he's not well enough to do this," Sloan protests involuntarily.
"He's barely back on his feet after the electrocution, and he was
attacked right here in this apartment tonight. Isn't there someone else
who can do the job?"
Jason shakes his head. "He can get closer than any of us, Dr. Parker.
He's had some experience in masking and more experience than most of
us in tracking a subject."
"I'd need a parabolic mike with taping capabilities," Tom says
thoughtfully. "We'd want a record of what was being said to use as
evidence later."
"I was thinking of something better than that." Sam looks at Sloan
inquiringly. "Does Walter still have connections at the NSA?"
Sloan nods reluctantly.
"What if we could get NSA cooperation to track Meredith by satellite?"
Sam proposes. "We'd tag her with the kind of chemical that only
a satellite picks up .... all it would take was brushing up against her
for a second, and a touch on her skin or her clothing .... and the
satellite could follow her movements and record the meeting.
The satellite would send a downlink feed back to an operator at
the NSA and to you, Tom, at a laptop computer nearby. That way
you'd be able to hear everything they were saying, and it would be
recorded at the same time."
"If a satellite can do all that, why do you need Tom there?" Sloan
asks anxiously.
"We need someone on the ground nearby to visually identify the
man Meredith meets, Sloan," Sam explains. "And we need him
there in case something happens to the satellite feed. If she goes
into a car or a building, it won't be able to pick up on her conversation.
In that case, Tom could, with the parabolic mike."
Tom reaches out to take her free hand in his. "They're right, Sloan.
Someone has to be there, just in case." Seeing the worry on her
face, he tightens his hold on her hand comfortingly. "I'll be all right
.... I'll have the whole day to rest up for it."
Sloan subsides into an unhappy silence, and Tom turns to look at
David. "Before you leave, I want to go into the Council's computer
records with you. I need to see what your boss looks like, and
while we're at it, I'll want his phone number as well."
David nods. "I'll bring up his assistant's file, too .... if Harris isn't
meeting her in person, he could be sending Robert instead."
"Good." Tom checks his watch. "Jason, why don't you go back
to Marcus' lab and get the evidence against Charles together and
your teams organized? I'll call you there to let you know what I
want to do about the Bakers."
Jason nods silently, lifting his coat off the back of his chair as he stands.
"And Jason," Tom says, rising to his feet as well, his hand held out.
"Thank you for tonight. Your people have put their lives on the line twice
for us now."
"We were just doing our job," Jason says briefly, shaking his hand.
"It's more than that," Tom insists, "and I'm grateful."
"We all are," Sloan says softly, rising up to hold out her hand as well.
"Thank you."
"Make sure he gets some rest," he says gruffly, nodding at Tom as he
shakes her hand.
"I will, believe me," she says, giving him a grin.
Nodding wordlessly, he lets her lead him to the door and out of the
apartment, leaving Tom to turn to David and Sam. "I'll work with David
first to pull down pictures of Harris and his assistant," he tells Sam.
"Then you and I will go over the conversation you'll stage in Marcus'
office and the plans for following Meredith to her meeting."
"I'll call Walter in the meantime and get him to work on his NSA
contacts," Sam says, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.
"And I'll bring Marcus up to date on what's happening."
Tom leads David over to the computer, passing Sloan on the way
as she returns to the living room and reaching out to touch her
arm lightly. "You should get some sleep," he says quietly.
"I will when you will," she says, smiling at him. "And I mean that.
You've got one hour to finish your meetings, and then it's time for bed."
"Sloan .... " Tom nods to David, who leaves them to take a seat
at the computer. "We don't have a bed," he reminds her in a low
voice, leaning his head toward hers with a smile of his own. "We
gave it away to Davey."
"We have a couch," she murmurs, kissing him lightly. "We'll
make do."
"And Shane?"
Sloan looks over at the couch where Shane still sits silently, his hands
clasped tightly in his lap.
"He can take the big chair," she says quietly. "I was going to suggest
he use a cot in one of the new rooms, but I want him close by in case
he needs us."
Tom nods his head, glancing over at the silent teenager. "What I'm doing
is for him and for Trevor, to ensure their futures. But what it's doing to him
.... " He shakes his head regretfully. "He shouldn't have to deal with
something like this."
"He'll get through this, Tom," Sloan says reassuringly. "And we'll be
there to help him."
The sudden ringing of a cell phone interrupts them, and both look over
to see David pulling his phone out of his pocket and answering it
quietly. Tom and Sloan watch as he listens to the voice on
the other end, Sloan leaning against Tom as he slips his arm around
her waist.
"That was Harris," David says as he ends the call and looks up at
them. "He has the tape."
~*~*~*~
"You're supposed to be asleep," Ed says severely, meeting Sarah's
shadowed gaze as her guard lets him into her room.
"So are you." Turning away from the window and the sight of the
early morning sun, she eyes him uncertainly. "What are you still
doing here?"
"Going blind staring at a computer," he says with a groan, sitting down
heavily on the narrow bed that takes up most of the room and leaning his
back against the wall behind it.
"What?"
"Never mind." He pats the spot beside him. "Come here .... I've got
a surprise for you."
Sarah moves over slowly, frowning with concern at his rumpled
appearance and bloodshot eyes, and sits down beside him, taking
the same position as his with her back against the wall. "A
surprise?"
"Here," he says, shoving the crumpled brown bag he'd brought in with
him into her hands.
"What's this?" she asks curiously, opening the bag and pulling out
a large plastic container.
"Tupperware." He grins at her puzzled expression and reaches over
to take it back from her. "It's a human invention .... something to fill
up our cupboards and drive us crazy when we can't get the lids open."
"I know what a plastic container is, Ed," Sarah says patiently. "I've
never heard it called by that name before, though."
"Dominants don't have Tupperware parties?" Ed asks teasingly.
"I'll have to make a note of that in my research." Popping open
the lid, he shoves the container back at her. "Here .... it's the
slice of chocolate cake I told you about, from Mrs. Peabody."
Jerking his head in the direction of the doors, he adds, "Your jailers
finally decided it wasn't poisoned or hiding a file, so they're letting
you have it."
"A file?" Sarah asks blankly, and he shakes his head in mock dismay.
"Obviously you know as little about gangster movies as you do about
Tupperware," he sighs. "When you get out of here, I'm going to
have to work on broadening your education."
Sarah looks at him uncertainly, finding his humor perplexing but glad
for his warm, comforting presence by her side. Watching his eyes
drift shut, she turns her attention back to the large wedge of chocolate
cake stored in the container. There is a small chunk of it missing
.... taken, she guesses, for testing in the lab. Leaning forward,
she sniffs cautiously and recognizes the rich, dark aroma of the
chocolate she'd first tasted at Sloan's apartment a few days ago.
"Something tells me your species doesn't normally eat food simply for
the enjoyment of it," Ed says, opening one eye to watch her.
"Food is fuel," she replies. "We eat because we have to."
"Another thing I'll have to teach you about," he says, closing his eye
again.
Reaching in, she breaks off a small piece, topped with frosting, and
tastes it curiously. The sweet, creamy taste has her widening her eyes
with surprise, and she savors it slowly. Ed's voice finally breaks through
her rapt fascination with the cake. "It's customary in some cultures to
share," he says with a smile in his voice, his eyes still closed. "Especially
when it comes to the person who brings you the gift."
Sarah glances over at him and then down at the slice of cake.
Reaching into the container, she carefully breaks off a generous
piece and places it in his outstretched hand. As she watches,
he lifts it unerringly to his lips, his eyes still closed. "Mmm," he
murmurs, eating it in one large bite. "Heaven."
"That's what Sloan said about Mrs. Peabody's cookies," she says,
lifting another piece of cake to her own lips.
"We'll have to thank Mrs. P when you get out," Ed says, holding his
hand out for more. "And ask her for her recipe."
"Will I?" Sarah asks, her enjoyment in the cake suddenly dissipating
as the enormity of her situation comes back to her. "Get out, I mean."
She stares down at the piece of cake in her hand.
"You will, Sarah," he says firmly, turning his head to look at her.
"Sooner than you think."
Sarah looks at him searchingly. "Can you tell me what's happening,
Ed? Have Marcus and Sam checked out my concerns about Martin?"
"You know the drill, Sarah," he reminds her. "They only agreed to let
me visit you after I promised not to say anything." Ed glances over
at the door and then leans close, lowering his voice. "All I can tell
you is that we're working as hard as we can to resolve this and get
you out of here."
Sarah stares at him, seeing the reassurance in his eyes. "Thank you,"
she says simply.
"You're welcome," he responds, and nods at the plastic container with
a grin. "Now stop worrying and pass me another piece of that cake."
~*~*~*~
"Sam!"
Sam, deep in thought as he strides through the lobby of Marcus' lab,
looks up to find Martin hailing him, a look of concern on his pleasant
features. "I was wondering if you knew how Tom was," Martin says,
coming up to him. "I wasn't able to get hold of Ed last night to get an
update."
"He's still recovering," Sam says slowly. "Sloan tells me he may be in
bed for several days."
"It's that bad?" Martin ignores the people passing by, arriving to
start their workday, as he stares at Sam with a worried frown. "I was
hoping his injuries would only be minor ones."
"You don't take a shock like that and come out of it with only minor
injuries," Sam points out. "There wasn't any permanent damage,
but it looks like it's going to take him a while to recover." Glancing at
his watch, he adds, "I have to go .... I'm due for a meeting with
Marcus and Walter in the testing room. I'll let you know more when
I hear from Sloan."
"I'd appreciate it," Martin says, falling into step beside him as
Sam heads down the main hallway. "Is there anything I can do in the
meantime? Any way I can help you with the investigation?"
Sam glances at him as he shakes his head briefly. "Thanks,
but no. We have everything under control."
"I'm glad to hear that." Martin hesitates as Sam comes to a halt
in front of the door to the testing room. "Sam .... if you talk to Tom,
would you tell him that I was asking after him? I've gotten to know him
a little while we've been working at Walter's lab, and I admire him for
what he's done. What happened to him yesterday was terrible."
He shakes his head in bewilderment. "I can't understand how Sarah
could have done it."
"None of us can," Sam says evenly.
"Have you found out why yet?" Martin asks, glancing at the door.
"Not yet, but we will." Sam checks his watch again. "I'm sorry,
Martin .... they're waiting for me."
"No problem," Martin says, backing away. "Good luck."
"Thanks." With a last quick nod, Sam lets himself into the testing room,
closing the door as Martin walks away down the hall.
Marcus and Walter look up from their computer terminals as Sam
walks over to them, laying his briefcase down on the nearest table.
Both men look weary, their hair mussed, their eyes tired with the strain
of reading data off computer screens all night. Piles of paper are
scattered across the tables in the room, along with empty coffee
cups and the remains of some hastily-made sandwiches. "Have you
had any sleep at all?" Sam asks with concern.
Marcus nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches.
"We've been working in shifts. Ed's on a break right now."
"Any word on the NSA satellite hook-up?" Sam asks Walter.
"It's all set," Walter confirms. "An operator will be standing by with
one of the spy satellites, and we should be getting a shipment
this morning of the chemical we'll need to tag Meredith with."
"Have you figured out how we're going to do that?" Marcus asks
skeptically. "She's a careful woman .... she'll be on guard at all
times."
"Jason and I have agreed to do it when she's at that restaurant
she always goes to," Sam answers him. "He'll have one of his
operatives in place when she arrives, posing as a customer who
will accidentally brush up against her in line."
"You're sure the chemical you tag her with can't be sensed?" Walter
asks with concern. "From what I understand, humans can't smell or feel
it, but what about dominants?"
"It works just as well," Sam confirms. "We tried some out when
the human security agencies first started using it, and none of our test
subjects knew it was on them."
"So, we've got the meeting covered one way or the other," Marcus
says, leaning back in his chair. "Now we just have to go through
these reports."
"What have you come up with?"
"Enough to verify what we already suspected." Marcus glances at
the piles of papers nearby. "We went back into the older surveillance
records, summaries from up to eight months ago. There were gaps
then too in Meredith's file, not as many as there've been in the last
four months but enough to be suspicious. We're wondering if they
took place when she was first negotiating with her contact."
"What about Martin?"
"I'm just guessing at this point, but it doesn't look like she brought
him into it until four months ago, when her visits to him suddenly
became so regular. Knowing them both, I'd say she's the one in
charge of the operation."
"He was here just now, outside the door," Sam tells them. "Asking
me about Tom's condition, saying how terrible yesterday's
events were." He grimaces. "Wondering how Sarah could have
done it."
"He's pushing," Walter observes.
"Trying to find out what we know and what Tom's involvement in the
investigation is," Marcus agrees. "What did you tell him?"
"What we agreed on .... that Tom is out of it for now, and that we're
still focusing our investigation on Sarah."
Marcus glances at Sam's briefcase. "Do you have the scripts for our
meeting in my office?"
Sam nods, opening it up and handing them each a copy. "You don't
have to follow it exactly .... just remember the key things to say
about Abbott and his involvement in the movement."
Walter scans the script quickly, raising his eyebrow. "This should
bury him," he observes mildly.
"That's the plan," Sam agrees. "We included every bit of information
Jacob has given us about the Council, and made it look as though it
all came from Abbott."
Marcus looks up from his copy of the script. "Give us half an hour or so
to digest this, and then we'll begin."
~*~*~*~
"How can you love me with these bags under my eyes?" mourns
Sloan, who stares at her image in the bathroom mirror. "And
my hair! It looks like something's been nesting in it!"
"You look fine," Tom says reassuringly, toweling off his damp hair,
another white towel wrapped around his waist.
"Why do men always say that?" Sloan yanks at the belt of her
bathrobe and grabs her brush, trying to tame her wild curls.
"A woman can look like she's been dragged through a swamp,
and the man always tells her she looks fine."
"That's because it's true," Tom answers her, coming up behind her to
wrap his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.
"You look beautiful, Sloan. You always do."
"Liar," she says glumly, leaning back against him and comparing his
clean good looks to her sleepy ones. Even the fading burn marks
on his temples caused by his electrocution don't take away from
the healthy glow of his skin, and his eyes are bright and clear thanks
to the healing effects of Ellen's tea.
"Sloan," he says patiently, "you've seen me electrocuted, tied down
with restraints, and sick with a high fever. But you've never pulled away
from me or stopped loving me. Why would you expect any less from me?"
"Well, when you put it that way .... " She twists in his arms to kiss
him, her hands moving up to press against the back of his head. What
begins as a teasing kiss quickly deepens into one of tenderness and
passion, her mouth opening under the seductive pressure of his.
Dropping the towel in his hand to the ground, he wraps her firmly in
his arms and backs her up against the closed bathroom door.
"Now I know you love me," she murmurs when he finally moves his
lips from hers, lowering his mouth to drift along the curve of her neck.
"Hmm?" He presses his hands against the small of her back, his
fingers sliding over the silk of her robe, and he nuzzles the hollow of
her throat.
"Morning breath," she whispers, tipping her head back against the
door, her eyes closed as she absorbs the feel of his hands and
mouth on her.
"They trained us to face the worst," he says softly, breaking into
a muffled chuckle as she pulls playfully on his damp hair. "Tom
Daniels .... " she says sternly, but breaks off to moan as his mouth
trails across the length of her shoulder, his hand reaching up to
pull aside the silk of her robe.
"You were saying?" he breathes, nipping lightly at her skin.
"Who, me?" She bites her lip. "I can't remember .... "
Tom reaches for the fabric covering her other shoulder, slowly drawing
it down, but a sudden crash in the kitchen and a loud shriek stops
him in mid-motion. The sound of laughter follows, and a scrabbling
of claws on the hardwood floor.
"That was Ellen yelling, wasn't it?" Sloan asks with resignation.
"It sounded like her." Tom rests his mouth against her shoulder,
his breath tickling her skin.
"We should see if everything's all right," Sloan suggests, drifting
her hands over his bare back.
"We should," he agrees, pulling away just far enough to kiss her
mouth. "She might need us."
"Darn." Sloan kisses him back and sighs regretfully as he carefully
draws the silk fabric of her robe back up over her shoulders. "I was
hoping you wouldn't agree with me."
"Sorry." Giving her an intimate grin, he steps back to retrieve the black
pants he'd left draped over her clothes hamper. "It's just as well ....
Mr. Carmichael's due here as soon as we finish breakfast. We should
be getting ready."
"You're right." Sloan stares at his bare chest longingly. "But I want
us back here, doing this, as soon as possible."
Tom tilts his head, smiling at her. "I think we can arrange that."
"Better yet," she continues, moving out of the way so that he can
open the door and lead her out into the bedroom, empty now that
Davey is up and waiting in the kitchen for breakfast, "I want
all the stuff that comes beforehand."
"What do you mean?" Tom asks, opening a dresser drawer and pulling
out socks, underwear, and a black sweater.
"A date, Tom." Sloan clasps her hands behind her back, her eyes dancing.
"I want a date with you."
Tom turns to look at her, his clothes held suspended in both
hands, a look of confusion on his face. "Sloan, dating is something
single people do. We live together. We sleep together. We spend
all of our time together."
"But we've never had a date together," she points out. "No flowers, no
candles, no dancing, no lingering over a late-night dinner at a French
restaurant. We plan rescues, we eat take-out food while we discuss
what to do about dominants like Lewis, and we collapse into bed at
night. But we never have time for romance."
Walking slowly over to him, her hands still clasped behind
her back, she gives him a warm, teasing smile. "I want a date with
you, Tom Daniels," she says softly. "The minute this latest crisis
is over."
"Sloan .... " A strange expression crosses Tom's face, and he
stares down at the clothes he's holding as though he's surprised
to see them there. "I don't .... " He takes a deep breath. "I haven't .... "
"What?" she asks, puzzled by his hesitation. Then, her eyes
widening, she asks, "You *have* been on a date before, haven't you?
During one of your assignments?"
Tom nods his head slowly. "I have. But not as me. I was always
someone else, playing a part." He looks up at her and gives a
small shrug, trying to explain. "I've never been on a real date, one
that mattered to me."
"Oh." She stands there looking at him, lost for words, and then
jumps as another crash sounds in the kitchen and Ellen's voice rises
in laughing exasperation. "Tom .... " she begins uncertainly,
afraid of opening old wounds.
Tom gazes at her silently, his eyes searching hers, and finally he
takes a step toward her, shifting his clothes into one hand and reaching
out to trace the curve of her cheek with a gentle finger. "Sloan Parker,"
he says slowly. "Will you go out on a date with me?"
Reaching up, she takes his hand in hers, cradling it against her
cheek. "I'd love to," she says softly.
~*~*~*~
"You!"
Ellen bends down to peer into the small face of Shane's kitten,
who has tucked herself behind the corner of the kitchen cabinets.
"I'm on to you."
Scooping the kitten up in her hands, she holds her so that they're
facing nose to nose. "Sidling up behind me," she says sternly.
"Tripping me and then snatching up the bacon that I dropped.
That's quite a scam you've got going."
The kitten eyes Ellen unblinkingly, her tiny tail whipping behind her.
"You can't even eat bacon yet, and you're already finding ways to
sneak it out from under me." The kitten begins to wriggle, and Ellen
tucks her close against her chest as she bends down to look at the
corner where the kitten had hidden. The missing bacon is lying
there, looking slightly the worse for wear.
"You, young lady, are developing some very bad habits early
in life," she lectures the kitten, picking up the bacon and tossing
it in the garbage container tucked inside one of Sloan's cupboards.
"Maybe she's hungry," Trevor suggests, holding his own kitten
protectively in his lap.
"She's been fed, right along with the rest of them," Ellen reminds him.
"She's just a natural-born mischief maker." She eyes the kitten narrowly.
"What I'd like to know is how she always knows right when to be
underfoot."
"She got me when I was carrying the toast over to the table,"
Davey tells her. "I tripped right over her, and she tried to run off
with the piece I dropped."
"And the cupboard, Mrs. Peabody," Trevor chimes in. "Remember when
you opened the cupboard where the cat food's stored and she
popped out?"
"What are you?" Ellen asks the kitten, tickling her white stomach
teasingly. "Houdini or just a really good con artist?"
Chuckling over the kitten's antics, Ellen looks up to see Shane
walking slowly back from the doors leading to Sloan and Tom's bedroom,
a frown on his face. "Did you let them know that breakfast is ready?"
Ellen asks, gently placing the kitten down on the floor and picking up
the juice pitcher she'd left on the counter.
"Um .... they were busy," Shane says, slipping into the chair
next to Davey's at the dining room table. "I heard them talking when
I went to knock on the door, and didn't want to interrupt." Flushing
slightly, he kept his gaze on his plate. "I think they're coming,
though .... I heard Tom say he was about to get dressed."
"Why the frown?" she asks curiously, reaching out to fill his glass.
He shakes his head at first, and then looks up at her with confusion,
recalling the conversation he'd just accidentally overheard. "Mrs.
Peabody .... when people are together, like Tom and Sloan .... " He
falters to a stop, staring back down at his plate.
"What, Shane?" she prompts him, lowering the juice pitcher to the
table and watching him carefully.
" .... when they live together and they know that they love each
other .... " He frowns. "Why would they need to go out on a date?"
Ellen glances up at the partially closed doors of the bedroom and
then back at the puzzled teenager. "Everyone needs to spend
time alone with the person they love, Shane .... time apart from
their everyday lives. It's what keeps their love special." She cocks
her head, her friendly blue eyes warm with sympathy. "Your parents
didn't do that?"
Shane shakes his head silently.
"Did you hear Tom and Sloan talking about needing to go out on a date?"
Shane glances up at her and nods his head after a moment's hesitation.
"I didn't mean to listen .... they didn't hear me come up." He frowns
again. "Which is strange .... Tom always knows when someone's coming."
"He was probably too wrapped up in what they were saying to notice," Ellen
says comfortably. "It's plain to see how much those two love each other.
And it's just as plain that they don't have much time to spend together,
with their lives being so busy .... " Her voice trails off and she stares
at the bedroom doors speculatively.
"What is it?" Shane asks uncertainly.
"What if we helped them with that date?" Ellen says, a smile spreading
across her face as she glances back at him.
Shane looks at her doubtfully. "I don't know, Mrs. Peabody. They're
kind of private, and they're dealing with a lot just now."
"All the more reason to give them some time to themselves," she says
bracingly, heading back to the kitchen island to retrieve the covered
plates of bacon and eggs that she'd prepared. "Now what we need,"
she says conspiratorially, laying the plates down on the table and
glancing toward the bedroom again, "is a plan .... "
"Mrs. Peabody," Trevor pipes up.
"What, Trevor?"
"Shane's kitten." Trevor points at the floor near the kitchen sink. "She's
doing it again."
Ellen turns to find the kitten skittering across the floor, manfully trying
to tug away a piece of bacon that she'd missed.
"Oh no you don't," she warns her, scooping up the bacon in one hand
and the kitten with the other. "You and I, miss," she says, lifting the kitten
up until their eyes meet, "are going to have to agree to some rules of
behavior in the kitchen."
~*~*~*~
"Marcus?"
Marcus looks up to find Jason hovering at the doorway of the testing
room, his expression unusually grave.
"What is it?" Marcus asks, lowering the script he'd been
studying.
Jason closes the door securely and crosses the room to stand
in front of Marcus' computer terminal. "The men we captured at
Tom's place .... Roger Abbott's commando team," Jason says
slowly. "They're dead, all but one of them."
"How?"
"Cyanide." Jason shook his head. "We'd searched them thoroughly
and hadn't come up with anything .... we thought they were clean."
"You said one was still alive," Walter interjects, the script in his
hand forgotten for the moment.
Jason nods. "We found the pill in his mouth, but he hadn't bitten down
on it. He's not saying much yet, but it looks like he decided at the last
minute that he wasn't willing to make the sacrifice the others were."
Marcus rubs his forehead wearily. "When did this happen?"
"Just minutes ago." Jason frowns. "They were in separate cells,
out of sight and hearing of each other, but they must have had a
prearranged time or signal to act."
"What about the one who survived?" Walter asks. "Will he talk?"
"I think so, with enough incentive."
Walter glances over at Marcus. "Would someone like that know who
gave the orders to attack?"
Marcus nods his head slowly. "It would be a matter of pride for
them to carry out a mission for someone with Roger's stature on
the Council."
"A videotape of his confession would go a long way in supporting the
evidence we're building against Roger," Walter suggests.
"I agree." Marcus turns to look at Jason. "We need that confession
as soon as you can get it, Jason."
"You'll have it," he promises.
~*~*~*~
A quiet knock sounds at the door just after Tom, Shane, and Trevor,
sitting at the dining room table with the others, lift their heads and look
toward it. Tom, holding his cup of taheebo tea in his hands, nods at
Trevor. "That will be Mr. Carmichael .... why don't you let him in?"
Ellen, reaching over to pass Sloan a second helping of eggs, shakes
her head with amusement. "I don't know how they do that, but they
always do, have you noticed? They seem to know someone's
coming before they arrive."
Sloan glances at Tom with wide eyes and lets him answer.
"It's a gift," he says mildly, "and one of the things we wanted to
talk to you about."
Ellen cocks her head, suddenly curious, but Mr. Carmichael's arrival
interrupts her train of thought.
"I don't know whether you've met Tom Daniels, Mr. Carmichael?"
Trevor says politely, leading the small, rumpled man over to the
dining area. "Or Sloan Parker?"
"We have, briefly," Sloan says, rising out of her chair at the table
with a smile. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Carmichael."
Mr. Carmichael, with a shock of ruddy-colored hair, eyes lost behind
a set of thickly-lensed glasses, and a slight stoop that makes him
seem older than his 57 years, nods absently, staring around the
apartment. "Bright," he comments doubtfully.
"We like the sun," Sloan explains, and gestures with her hand to
Shane. "Mr. Carmichael, this is Trevor's brother Shane."
"Hmm," Mr. Carmichael says with another absent nod, his eyes
drifting over to Shane's and then past to the windows again. He
shakes his head. "Much too bright. And open. Impossible to
maintain proper security."
Tom, who had risen to his feet as Trevor was making his introductions,
follows Mr. Carmichael's gaze to the large window beside the table.
"It can be done with the right system, but it *is* difficult," he agrees.
Mr. Carmichael, in the midst of taking his glasses off to clean them
with the hem of his faded red sweater, looks up at Tom sharply.
"What kind of system?"
"Sensor-based, around the windows. Any movement, even a
laser shining on it, sets off an alarm."
Mr. Carmichael holds his glasses in one hand, his sweater hem in
the other, both forgotten as he nods thoughtfully. "Bugs?"
"I just did a sweep of the place a few days ago," Tom says, striding
over to the chair near the front door and pulling a small black scanner out
of his jacket pocket. "Here. This covers the whole apartment in less
than ten minutes."
"Hmm." Mr. Carmichael, dropping the hem of his sweater and putting
his glasses back on as he reaches out to take the scanner, peers at
it near-sightedly. "New technology?"
"The latest."
Plucking a tiny screwdriver out of a shirt pocket teeming with pens, bits
of paper, and a trailing strand of string, the small man pokes at the box's
controls. "Good design," he says with a nod of his head. "Streamlined.
Efficient. Range?"
"Up to ten meters in any direction. Penetrates metal, even concrete."
Mr. Carmichael rocks on his heels, making a slight humming sound.
"Like to try it if I could. Could catch bugs I've missed in my
place." He glances up at Tom, clutching the box to his chest. "Never
can be too careful with the government. They're everywhere, you know."
"I know." Tom gives him a friendly smile. "If you'd like, I can go down
to your apartment after our talk and show you how to use it."
"Appreciate it," Mr. Carmichael says gruffly, and settles his
screwdriver back into his shirt pocket with a fumbling hand.
"We would like to talk to you first, if we could. And to Mrs. Peabody
and her son."
"Hmm?" Mr. Carmichael turns his head to find all eyes on him and
flushes uncomfortably, rocking on his heels again. "Oh. Right.
Lead on."
Ellen, who has been watching Tom and her eccentric tenant with
wide eyes, glances at Sloan. "I feel like Alice just after she's fallen
through the looking glass," she whispers. "What was all that about?"
"Tom will explain," Sloan says in a low voice, taking Ellen by the arm.
"Here, why don't you sit down on the couch with Davey? He looks like
he could use the rest." Turning, she beckons to Shane and Trevor.
"Will you two pull up some extra chairs for us?"
Ellen helps her son over to the couch and settles down on the edge of
it expectantly, watching as Tom escorts Mr. Carmichael to one of
the chairs flanking the fireplace and urges Sloan to take the other.
Trevor and Shane perch on the edge of the dining room chairs they've
pulled up next to Sloan's armchair, and Tom sits down between them
on the chair they've left for him.
"I want to thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Tom begins,
nodding to Ellen and Davey and to Mr. Carmichael, who sits clutching
the scanner to his chest, his fingers running over it absently. "We
wanted to express our gratitude for the risks you took last night to
protect the boys, and to explain what happened and why. We know
you must have questions about what you saw."
Ellen darts a quick look at Mr. Carmichael. "There *were* some things
I wondered about," she says hesitantly. "Those men .... the kind of
equipment they had .... " She turns her gaze on Tom. "You were
expecting something like that, weren't you?"
Tom nods his head. "I misjudged how many there would be, but I knew
the kind of men the Bakers would send. Those weren't just a set of thugs,
Ellen .... they were skilled soldiers."
"Knew what they were doing," Mr. Carmichael agrees. "Top-notch
weapons." He lifts his hand to fumble with his glasses. "Wondered
about that too."
Tom nods, exchanging a glance with Sloan. "They were dominants,
trained by the best."
"Dominants?" Ellen gasps, her eyes going wide. "In my building?"
"I'm afraid so." Tom smiles at her apologetically. "We should have
warned you, but as I said, we didn't expect them to attack with the
kind of force they did."
"Dominants." Ellen stares at Tom in astonishment. "Goodness,"
she says faintly.
"But I thought they were after Shane and Trevor," Davey says in
confusion. "Were they after Sloan, then?"
"They *were* after the boys, Davey," Tom agrees. "And they were
after me."
"I don't understand," Ellen says in confusion.
"I'm a dominant myself, Ellen," Tom explains. "So are the boys. The
men who attacked us were sent here to capture us and take us
back with them."
Ellen stares at him, her mouth open in shock, and she slips her
hand into her son's unthinkingly, squeezing it tightly. Trevor, sensing
her turmoil, leans his shoulder against Tom's instinctively, looking for
reassurance, and Tom lays one hand on Trevor's knee and the other
on Shane's.
"I was a dominant agent .... a chameleon," Tom says slowly.
"My assignments were to insinuate myself into the lives of humans
who were seen to be a danger to us and to eliminate them." He looks
over at Sloan, who smiles at him encouragingly. "But I couldn't do it
after a while. I couldn't accept the idea that wiping out the human
race was the only answer. Instead, with Sloan's help, I came to
believe that we can live together in peace. And I'm not alone ....
there are other dominants out there who agree with me and who
are working to make peace possible."
"What about Shane's parents?" Davey asks, shooting Shane a
concerned glance.
"They don't agree with me. They want both boys raised to fight
against humans, the way I was. They planned to have Trevor enrolled
in the same training school that I went through, and Shane was to
start his own training in a few months."
"They wanted to make that little boy into an agent like you?" Ellen says
incredulously.
Tom nods. "Shane ran away when he realized he couldn't
do what his parents wanted him to. He met me, and when he heard
that his parents were planning on enrolling Trevor in the chameleon
training school, he asked for my help in getting him out."
"Tom risked his life to help them, Ellen," Sloan says, leaning
forward in her chair. "He wanted to give them a chance at the kind
of life he didn't have as a boy. He wanted them to have choices, and
to live a peaceful life here with us."
Ellen looks at Tom and the boys with wide eyes.
"We're telling you this because we couldn't keep you in the dark any
longer," Tom explains. "Not with what's happened. But this is
something we need kept secret in order to protect Shane and Trevor.
They're still at risk, not just from their parents .... although we hope to
resolve that soon .... but from people on both sides who won't
understand and who will judge them."
"Tom's in danger too," Sloan adds, casting him a concerned glance.
"The leaders of his species see him as a traitor, and they won't rest
until they've captured him."
"What would they do if they got you back?" Davey asks Tom.
"They'd kill me," Tom says simply. "They've tried reprogramming
me once already and it didn't work. At this point, they'd make me
an example of what happens to people who defy them."
Ellen jerks a little, her hand clenching over Davey's. "And the boys?"
"They'd be put through intensive training and re-education." Shane
shifts uneasily and Tom moves his hand over the teenager's knee,
rubbing reassuringly. "They'd never be completely trusted, though,
and their future would be uncertain."
A silence falls on the room as Ellen and Davey digest Tom's words,
and even Mr. Carmichael ceases his absent fiddling with the scanner
to stare at Tom assessingly.
"You must have questions," Sloan says finally, "and we'll try to
answer all of them. We'll also understand if you feel you can't have
us as tenants any more, Ellen. You didn't expect this when you
rented the apartment to me two years ago."
"No, I can't say that I did," she responds distractedly.
"Mr. Carmichael?" Sloan asks, turning to look at the older man.
Mr. Carmichael glances down at the scanner and then fixes Tom
with a questioning look. "Dominant technology?"
Tom nods silently.
"Hmm." He beetles his brows, staring down at it.
"Do you have any concerns, Mr. Carmichael?" Sloan presses him. "Any
questions?"
"Hmm?" He looks up at her absent-mindedly, and then shakes his
head. "Suspected as much. Boy's too smart to be human."
He casts a knowing glance at Tom. "Seen some things too, late at
night. Comings and goings out of this place. Knew something was
up."
"Do you have any objections to us staying here, Mr. Carmichael?"
Tom asks.
"Not really my place to say, is it?," Mr. Carmichael says, coming to
his feet. Casting a stern look in Sloan's direction, he asks, "Do you
trust 'em?"
"I do."
He nods his head. "Well, then. Good enough for me. Read about
your work .... impressive. Kept your head during a trying time."
"Thank you," Sloan says in surprise.
"Like to try the unit out now," he says brusquely, gesturing to Tom with
the scanner.
"Maybe I should stay .... " Tom says, casting a concerned glance at
Ellen, who looks up at him with confusion in her eyes.
"Got to give her time," Mr. Carmichael says gruffly, understanding his
hesitation. "Woman's been obsessed with other species for years.
Kept hoping to meet one. But seeing one standing in front of her's a
different thing, from the looks of it."
"Ellen?" Tom asks.
"Go," she says, flapping her hand at him weakly. "I'm fine. Really."
Tom glances at Sloan and then gives the boys encouraging looks
before standing up to follow Mr. Carmichael to the door. Halfway there,
the older man suddenly stops and turns around, Tom barely avoiding
a collision with him.
"About the boy," Mr. Carmichael says awkwardly, nodding in
Trevor's direction. "Needs stimulation. Regular schooling won't be
enough." He pauses for a moment, reaching up to fuss with the pens in
his pocket, and then gives an abrupt nod. "Expect to see him at my
place every afternoon at four for two hours." With another brusque
nod, he turns to leave. "Lots to teach him."
"Oh," Sloan says uncertainly, darting an alarmed glance at Trevor.
"I'm not sure .... "
"Bring Smudge," Mr. Carmichael instructs Trevor with a parting glance.
"Ordered something for her this morning. Think she'll like it."
"Thank you, sir," Trevor says, breaking out into a delighted smile.
"I will."
"Hmmph." With a last abrupt nod, Mr. Carmichael leaves the apartment,
Tom in his wake, the older man's head bent over the scanner he holds
tightly in his hands.
With Mr. Carmichael and Tom gone, Trevor and Shane turn their
attention back to Ellen, who stares at them fixedly, her fingers tapping
nervously against Davey's knuckles. Trevor's smile fades as he sense
her fear, and he glances at Shane nervously.
Turning to look at her as well, Sloan clears her throat hesitantly.
"Ellen .... "
"He's right, you know," Ellen says slowly, her gaze flickering over to
Sloan's. "I've thought about this moment for years. I watch all the t.v.
programs, I go to my Friday night alien encounters group, I read
everything I can get my hands on about other species." She looks
at the boys again in confusion. "But now that it's actually happening,\
I don't know what to think."
"I can understand that," Sloan says sympathetically. "Something like
this takes time to absorb."
"It's just that I've read such things .... " Ellen trails off, and shrugs
apologetically. "I saw the press conference Dr. Attwood held. He
made the dominants sound so threatening to us all. He didn't say
anything about any of them wanting peace."
"He couldn't," Sloan explains. "He knew about Tom, of course, but
it wasn't until later that he found out there was a peace movement
among the dominants, and even now he has to be careful about what
he says. He doesn't want to risk exposing any of them to attack by
the more militant members of their species."
Ellen looks at Trevor and Shane. "Your mother was so cold," she
says slowly. "It was like she didn't feel anything a mother should."
"She doesn't," Shane says quietly. "Her only dedication is to the
cause."
"The cause?"
"World domination over the human race," Shane explains, his voice
becoming almost inaudible.
"Then why did she want you back, if she didn't care?" Flushing
suddenly, Ellen gives another apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry .... I don't
mean to hurt you. I'm just trying to understand."
"She wanted them back so that they would do their duty, as she saw
it," Sloan says, understanding her confusion. "But they wouldn't do it."
"We couldn't," Trevor says. Watching Ellen carefully, he stands up
and moves over to stand in front of her. "We wouldn't hurt you, Mrs.
Peabody," he says gravely. "We're not like that."
Ellen looks up at him and blinks suddenly, seeming to really see him
for the first time. "Of course you wouldn't," she says staunchly, and
pulls her hand free of Davey's to take Trevor in her arms, giving him a
fierce hug.
Trevor makes a small sound of surprise, still unused to embraces, and
then hugs her back awkwardly, his arms around her neck. Sloan, feeling
her throat thicken with emotion, smiles at the sight of the two of them and
reaches over to take Shane's hand in hers.
"I'm sorry," Ellen says, pulling back to look up at Trevor, her own eyes
damp with tears. "I'm sorry I looked at you the way I did." Nodding over
at Shane, she rises up off the couch to pull him out of his chair and give
him a fierce hug as well. "I just let my fears get the better of me there
for a minute."
"It's okay," Shane says, hugging her back. "It's a lot to take in."
"That's no excuse," she says, pulling back to survey him. "I took to you
two right away .... I can't believe I doubted you."
Shane shifts from one foot to the other self-consciously, still not always
comfortable with emotion, and Sloan takes pity on him by standing
up and wrapping a companionable arm around his shoulder. "What
do you say we clear the dishes off the table?" she suggests. "Mrs.
Peabody will probably have some questions for you .... we can talk while
we clean up."
Nodding their heads, Shane and Trevor head for the table, each
reaching for some of the dirty dishes, and Ellen follows them
thoughtfully. "That's why you didn't know how to handle the kittens
at first, isn't it?" she asks curiously. "Dominants wouldn't have pets."
Trevor nods his head. "I like them, though."
"What about friends? Did you have friends?"
"Not many," Shane says, trying to balance as many plates as he
can in his hands. "Just ones our parents let us have."
"That's terrible," Ellen protests, collecting the dirty glasses.
"Do you mean you didn't get to choose who to play with?"
Trevor shakes his head. "We had to be careful."
Ellen frowns, carrying the dishes to the kitchen counter. "What
about movies? And parties? And baseball games? Did you get to
go to any of those?"
"Sometimes." Shane carefully lowers his pile of plates on the
counter. "If our parents thought it would help us fit in." He turns
to look at her. "That was the whole point .... we were allowed to
do what made us look human, like the rest of them."
"But you weren't like the rest of them," Ellen says, resting her
hand on her hip as she looks at him.
Shane shakes his head.
"It must have been tiring," she says perceptively. "Always being
on guard. Pretending to be someone you weren't."
Shane glances over at the dishes he'd put down. "It was," he
admits. "But it's what we were raised to do."
"Well, it looks like you've got a lot of catching up to do," she says
bracingly. "Movies and pizza and nights out with friends, ballgames
and touch football .... "
"Going to the beach?" Trevor says hopefully, struggling under
the weight of two large serving plates as he makes his way over
to the counter.
"You've never been to the beach?" Sloan asks, lifting the plates
out of his hands and placing them on the crowded counter.
Trevor shakes his head. "It wasn't necessary."
Ellen and Sloan exchange eloquent glances. "The beach it is,"
Ellen says, a sudden gleam in her eye. "We'll sit on the sand and
talk, and you can tell me more about what you're like." With a
happy shake of her head, she starts scraping what was left of the
food into the garbage container Sloan had pulled out of the cupboard.
"Just think of all the things I'll be able to pass on to my Friday
night group about you .... "
"Ellen," Sloan says warningly, flashing a worried glance at
Shane.
"You can't tell," Trevor reminds Ellen, who suddenly straightens up,
a stricken look on her face.
"I can't tell," she says weakly. "Of course I can't tell. I have to keep
you safe."
"We're sorry," Shane apologizes, looking at her with concern.
"I can't tell," she repeats, slumping against the counter. "I'm going to
have to quit my Friday night group. How can I sit there and listen to
them speculate about dominants when I know three personally and
can't say anything?"
"I really am sorry, Ellen," Sloan says sympathetically.
"So am I," Ellen sighs, bending down to clear off another plate. "They'd
be so fascinated .... " Straightening up suddenly, she gives Sloan a
hopeful look. "Maybe I could still go and just keep quiet."
"Ma." Davey, who had been resting on the couch, walks over
to the kitchen island and gives her a knowing grin. "You? Keep quiet?"
Ellen gives her son a speaking look before breaking out in a rueful grin.
"Okay, who wants to help me write my letter of resignation?"
~*~*~*~
"How did it go?" Ed asks, looking up from his spot in front of his computer
in the testing room.
"Pretty convincingly, I think," Walter allows, following Marcus and Sam
into the room and closing the door behind him.
Marcus, walking up to his own computer terminal, drops his creased
and folded script onto the table beside it and nods absently. "We
managed to include everything that Tom and Sam had suggested ....
by the end of the conversation, even I was beginning to think Roger was
our source."
"Martin and Meredith will when they hear it on tape, and that's what
counts." Sam drops wearily into a chair nearby.
"He saw us on our way into the office, did you notice?" Walter asks,
settling into his own chair.
"And coming out." Sam shakes his head. "For someone who's
been so careful up until now, he's starting to make mistakes."
"He's getting over-confident." Marcus stares down at his computer,
still standing, his hands on his hips. "He's convinced that we've
accepted the evidence against Sarah, and so he's willing to take
more risks."
"So what's wrong?" Sam asks, sensing his doubts.
Marcus looks at him thoughtfully. "Martin's cocky, but Meredith
isn't. She has a reputation for being methodical and not taking
anything for granted. She'll find the conversation we just staged
convincing up to a point, but she'll still be wary, especially if she
suspects that we know that some of our offices have been bugged."
Walter frowns. "Then what we've done won't be enough?"
"It may not be," Marcus says slowly.
"What are you thinking?" Sam watches him curiously.
"I think that we should shut this investigation down," Marcus
says, looking around the room at the piles of reports and scribbled
notes. "Or at least make it look as though we have."
"So that Martin will think we're convinced that Sarah is the traitor,"
Sam guesses.
Marcus nods his head. "We'll have Walter and Ed leave the building,
and I'll call a meeting of the senior staff to announce that Sarah has
been proven to the traitor and that she'll be dealt with accordingly.
I'll reassign her work to other members of the staff, and will pull Martin
aside at the end to ask him to help me find a replacement for her
as liaison with Walter's lab."
"How will you convince Meredith that our talk about Roger wasn't
staged?"
"In announcing Sarah's guilt, I'll tell everyone about the bugs she
supposedly planted in this lab and in Walter's. I'll tell them that we
did a clean sweep of the place, and that we found and removed two
bugs from my office."
"But there were three," Sam objects. "One under your desk, one near
the doorway, and one near your conference table."
"Exactly," Marcus says with a slight smile.
"You had us sit at the conference table for that whole conversation,"
Walter says slowly. "You never do that .... you always sit at your
desk and we face you in those chairs of yours."
Marcus nods. "I'll say that we found bugs in my desk and near the
doorway, but make no mention of the one near the conference table
.... Martin and Meredith will assume we somehow missed that one."
"So you were thinking of this even before we staged our talk,"
Sam says, looking up at him perceptively.
"I've been putting myself in Meredith's place, trying to anticipate
every suspicion she might have," Marcus acknowledges. "Saying
publicly that we know about the bugs and have removed them weakens
any argument she might have that what we said was part of a
performance."
"You're good," Walter says with a dry smile.
Marcus shrugs and begins collecting the piles of paper near
his computer. "I've just had more experience deceiving people than
the rest of you," he says matter-of-factly, avoiding Sam's eye.
~*~*~*~
"Any word?"
Roger pulls Judith to the side of the busy hallway in the Council offices.
"None," he says in a low voice. "I think we can assume it failed."
Judith nods her head slightly, shifting the load of files in her arms
as she glances around her. "There will be an investigation into the
missing men."
"There's nothing to link them to us," Roger reassures her. "I didn't use
my usual team .... these were hand-picked men from different units,
all hard-liners."
"Have you spoken to David yet?"
Roger frowns. "I haven't been able to track him down. He's in the building
.... I checked when I came in this morning. But his assistant didn't know
where he was, and no one else seems to either."
"Could he be a problem?"
"He can't afford to be .... you said it yourself, he's in this as deeply as we
are."
Judith nods at a passing colleague. "We shouldn't be seen together too
much today."
"I agree." Roger checks his watch. "Keep to your normal routine. I'll be
in touch later if I find out anything. Where's Charles?"
"At his city hall office all day in meetings."
"Good. I want him out of this .... he panics too easily."
Judith glances at him coolly. "Don't worry about him .... I'll keep him
in line."
"See that you do."
~*~*~*~
David sits quietly in the wing chair facing Harris Templeton as Harris
reads through his report again. The tape machine sits nearby on the
desk, the tape still inside, having been played and replayed.
The room is silent other than the sound of Harris turning a page.
Robert Tilton, Harris' assistant, had secreted himself away in the
anteroom after ushering David in, although David is sure that Harris
will brief him as soon as he leaves.
Finishing the last page of the report, Harris lines it up precisely with
the pages that went before it and looks up at David. "If this is true,
we have a major security leak within the Council itself."
David nods silently.
"You believe the tape is genuine?" Harris asks.
"Yes, sir." David meets Harris' gaze evenly. "I put it through a battery
of tests, and every one confirmed that it's Tom Daniels speaking."
Harris nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and staring down at
the report. "Tell me about the meetings."
"They were held in Roger's office," David replies, knowing as Harris does
that all this information is contained in his report. "Roger was in charge,
and he was the one who supplied the men for the attack."
"What about the Bakers' involvement?"
"They wanted their sons back and Tom Daniels captured. They were
willing to go to any means to achieve those goals."
Harris nods again, smoothing one finger over the leather arm of his chair.
"What did Roger say about the Head of the Council in your meetings?"
"That his edict to leave Daniels alone was misguided. He was
convinced that Daniels could be taken, and that the Head of the
Council would see that once the attack succeeded."
"But it didn't."
"No, sir, I don't believe so."
"None of the men involved have been heard from?"
David shakes his head. "I've called their unit commanders myself
.... none of the men Roger Abbott used have shown up for duty today."
Harris falls silent, still staring down at the report, and then leans
forward, folding his hands in front of him on the desk, his manner
suddenly purposeful. "I'm not prepared to move on this yet, David.
I need more. But I am convinced that an investigation is needed."
"Yes, sir."
"Have any of them approached you this morning about what
happened last night?"
"Not yet."
"No doubt they will once they feel it's safe. Play along with them
for now, and report back to me on whatever they say or do."
David nods wordlessly.
"I'll watch Roger and Judith during this afternoon's daily briefing.
Roger's never been one for subtlety .... if he's hiding something,
I'll know it."
"Yes, sir."
With a nod, David rises out of his chair and prepares to leave, but
Harris calls him back just as he reaches for the doorknob.
"Good work, David," his superior says abruptly. "You showed initiative
in insinuating yourself into their meetings."
"I was just doing my duty, sir."
Harris nods his head. "That's what I count on you for, David."
~*~*~*~
"Scamp?"
"Billy The Kid. We can call her Billy for short," Ellen mutters.
"Billy is a *boy's* name."
"Okay .... Wilhemina the Kid. Or Imp. How about Imp, as in Satan's
Imp?"
"Ellen," Sloan protests, turning her head to give her landlady
an admonishing look. "We're supposed to be helping the boys pick
cute names for the kittens."
"I am," Ellen says defensively, not moving from her tired position
on the couch beside Sloan. "Wasn't I the one who suggested that
yours be called Puff?"
Sloan glances over at her computer table, where all that can be seen
of her kitten is a round ball of fur .... head, tail, and paws all tucked
out of sight. "Puff is good. I like Puff. But now we're naming Shane's
kitten, and Billy the Kid and Imp are *not* cute names."
"Hmmph," Ellen mutters, closing her eyes. "The way that cat behaves,
she's set for a life of crime. Cute doesn't come into it, even if she does
have that innocent look down pat."
Shane chuckles, looking down at the kitten in question, who sleepily
contemplates her tail. Shane and Trevor are sitting cross-legged on
the floor facing the couch, their kittens in their laps. The remains
of a late lunch lie scattered around them in a cluster of half-empty pizza
boxes and cans of soda. "She *does* seem to get into trouble a lot,"
he admits.
"And it's only her first full day here," Ellen points out, her eyes still
closed. "Imagine the damage she could do in a week."
"I still can't figure out how she got her paw stuck in the vcr," Sloan says
with a sigh, studying the kitten wearily.
"I can't figure out how she got on top of it in the first place," Trevor says,
peering over at the kitten's half-closed eyes. "She's too little to get up
there by herself."
"That's my fault," Shane says guiltily. "I thought if I put her up there
when the pizzas were delivered, she couldn't try to steal a piece."
"Hmmph," Ellen murmurs. "She's an imp, I tell you."
"We had a cat like her when I was growing up," Sloan says
contemplatively. "Things tended to disappear when she was around,
especially food, and when trouble broke out, she was always in the
middle of it. Dad named her Mischief."
"Mischief," Shane says thoughtfully, lifting his kitten up to face him,
staring into her eyes. "What do you think .... does that sound
like a name you'd like?"
The kitten bats at Shane's nose and mews loudly.
"I think she likes it," Trevor says, watching the kitten peddle her
back legs sleepily.
"Mischief it is," Sloan says with a sigh. "So, we've got Smudge, Puff,
Mischief, and .... " Looking around the room searchingly, she frowns.
"Where did Tom's kitten go?"
"Ten to one she's in the bedroom again." Ellen opens her eyes to
glance over at Sloan. "Every time I've peeked in to make sure Tom's
still sleeping, that kitten of his sneaks in past me and hops up on the
bed. Settles down right away beside him and goes to sleep herself."
"She's like his little shadow, have you noticed?" Trevor asks. "Everywhere
Tom goes, she's always just a step behind. The whole time Tom was
downstairs with Mr. Carmichael, she sat at the front door, waiting for him
to come home."
"How about Shadow, then?" Shane suggests. "That sounds like
a good name."
"I like it," Sloan agrees. "We'll have to ask Tom first when he wakes
up from his nap, since she's his kitten. But it sounds like a good name
to me."
"So, we've got the dishes done, the kittens all named .... " Ellen lifts
her arm to eye level to check her watch. " .... and it's time to wake
Tom and Davey up for another dose of my tea."
"I'll help," Sloan offers, getting up off the couch.
"Why don't you take Tom's tea into him, and I'll give Davey his?" Ellen
suggests, getting up as well and following Sloan into the kitchen.
"I hope that cot in the next room is comfortable enough for him,"
Sloan says with concern. "I feel badly that he's not in his own bed
at home."
"He's fine," Ellen reassures her. "That son of mine can sleep anywhere.
Besides, I want him close by so that I can check on him. Once we've
had dinner and I've got you all fed, I'll take him home with me and get
him settled in."
"I can't thank you enough for offering to cook again tonight, Ellen,"
Sloan says, leaning against the counter as she watches Ellen carefully
strain out two helpings of taheebo tea. "I'd say no, but I'm too tired to
resist the temptation."
"It's my pleasure," Ellen says comfortably. "Nothing's more satisfying
than cooking for a bunch of hungry men."
The buzzer sounds at the front door, and Sloan walks over to check
her security screen. "Speaking of hungry men," she says with a grin,
and opens the door up to find Ed leaning against the doorway, looking
even more tired than she felt.
"Tupperware delivery," he says with a weary grin, holding up the plastic
container Ellen had sent Sarah's cake in.
"I thought you'd still be hard at work," Sloan says, taking the
container from him and stepping aside to let him inside.
"So did I, but Marcus sent us both home," Ed says, making
his way into the living room and giving a friendly nod to both boys on
the floor and to Ellen in the kitchen. Stepping past the boys to make
his way to the couch, he collapses onto it with a groan. "Do I
smell pizza?" he asks hopefully.
"You do, and we might even have some left," Sloan says. "Shane,
see if you can a slice or two for Ed in one of the boxes, and one of
the unopened cans of soda."
Shane tips his newly-named kitten off his lap and crawls across the
floor lifting lids of pizza boxes until he finds one with two large slices
left. Reaching for one of the unused plates Ellen had left sitting
on the floor nearby, he carefully scoops the slices out onto the
plate and hands it up to Ed. "Thanks," Ed says gratefully, taking a
hungry bite.
"So if they sent you home, why aren't you there catching up on
your sleep?" Sloan asks sympathetically. "I don't think you've been
to bed for two days now."
"At least two." Ed takes another large bite and reaches out to
take a can of soda from Shane. "I got elected to brief Tom first, though.
Sam wanted him up-to-date on what's happening, but he hasn't had
time to speak to him himself."
"He's sleeping now, but I've got to wake him to take his tea," Sloan
says, lifting the cup off the counter. "He'll be out in a few minutes."
"No hurry," Ed says, his mouth full of cheese and pepperoni. "Just
keep the food coming and I'll be fine."
"I have some cake left too, if you want it," Ellen offers.
"Cake? You've still got cake?" Sloan stops in mid-step, her eyes
lighting up with interest.
"Enough to give you all a small piece," Ellen replies, opening one of
Sloan's cupboard doors to pull out some plates. "Shane, would you
take Davey's tea into him and wake him up to drink it, please?"
Shane gets up off the floor to take the tea she's left out on
the counter and disappears into the unfinished rooms next door,
Mischief following at his heels.
"I didn't see any cake left over after dinner last night," Sloan says
curiously, the cup of tea in her hand momentarily forgotten. "I
thought we ate it all."
"Tom and the boys warned me about you and that appetite of yours,"
Ellen says with a grin, laying the plates down on the counter and opening
another cupboard door. "I baked one of my double-batch cakes and
hid what was left where they assured me you'd never find it."
"Where?" Sloan asks, narrowing her gaze as she glances over at
Trevor, whose cheeks turn pink.
"Behind the baking goods." Ellen tucks her hand in behind an
unopened bag of flour and pulls out a generous, plastic-wrapped
portion of cake. "They said that in all the time they've
been here, they've never once seen you open that cupboard."
Ed chokes on his piece of pizza, his eyes filling with laughter. "Isn't
that the flour you had in college, Sloan?" he finally manages to say.
"She keeps carting it around from place to place when she moves,"
he tells Ellen, his lips twitching.
"It is *not*," Sloan says defensively, her own cheeks turning pink. "I
threw that one away when I moved in here and bought a new bag."
"Oh, well," Ed says, reaching for his second piece of pizza, "that
makes all the difference."
Sloan, at a loss for words, sticks her tongue out at him before heading
off to the bedroom, and Ed convulses with laughter again, shaking his
head.
"So you two have known each other since college?" Ellen asks Ed,
reaching into one of the drawers under the counter for a knife as
Sloan shuts the door behind her firmly.
"Hard to believe, but true," Ed admits, taking a drink of his soda.
"You must know her pretty well."
"About as well as anyone." Ed finishes off the second slice of pizza
and looks over expectantly at the cake to find Ellen studying at him with
a calculating smile.
"What?" he asks uncertainly, sitting up a little straighter as she casts
one last look at the closed bedroom doors and hurries over to sit down
beside him, beckoning Trevor to follow.
"Maybe you can help us, then," she says in a low voice. "We
want to give Tom and Sloan a date, but we need to know what they
might like."
"A date?" Ed asks blankly.
"A special evening," Ellen clarifies. "Shane heard them talking about
needing time alone together, and I thought we could give that to them
.... you know, flowers, candles, wine, some good food .... " Shifting
a little closer to Ed on the couch, she looks at him hopefully. "Do
you know what Sloan's favorite foods are?"
"Besides pizza?"
Ellen rolls her eyes. "I meant *romantic* food. A beautiful
meal they could linger over."
Ed frowns, staring absently at Trevor, who sits in front of him on the floor.
"Well, she likes chocolate .... "
"So I've noticed," Ellen says wryly.
"And strawberries .... " Ed looks over at her, his eyes lighting up. "There's
some dessert she's ordered the few times we've been out someplace
nice. It's got strawberries and whipped cream and some kind of liqueur
in it. I don't know what it's called, but whatever it is, she *loves* it."
"Strawberries Romanoff?" Ellen guesses. "It has curaçao in it, and crème
Chantilly and candied violets. I could make that, and maybe drizzle
melted chocolate on top or sprinkle some chocolate shavings .... "
Ed stares at her in amazement, and she grins back at him.
"I take gourmet cooking classes on the nights that my alien encounters
group doesn't meet," she explains. "Or my tai chi class."
"Uh-huh." Ed winks at Trevor. "So what about the first course?"
"I could make trout almandine, or maybe sole in a white wine sauce."
Ellen stares over at Sloan's kitchen, lost in thought. "Or do you think
Tom's more the meat and potatoes type? I've got a wonderful recipe
for beef tournedos with artichoke bottoms and a béarnaise sauce .... "
"Why don't we leave the food to you?" Ed says hastily, and stares
around the apartment. "We'd need to buy flowers, and some candles.
She likes roses, I think .... maybe red?"
"Cream-colored," Ellen says absently. "She always has a few
on her computer table. We'd need some bouquets, spread around
the room .... " Suddenly realizing the rest of what Ed had said, she
looks at him hopefully. "So you'll help?"
"I'll do you one better," he offers. "You do the cooking, the boys
and I will help with the set-up, and then I'll take them back to my
place for the night."
"Oh!" Ellen darts a quick glance at Trevor. "What would you think of
that, Trevor?"
"I was thinking popcorn, pizzas, some surfing movies," Ed explains,
just as Shane walks in the room, Mischief in his arms. "You know,
guy stuff."
"Surfing movies?" Trevor echoes curiously.
"Guy stuff?" Shane asks, his eyes brightening with interest.
"Ed's in on the date plan," Ellen says in a stage whisper.
"The date plan?" Shane asks in confusion, and then his eyes widen
in comprehension and he hastily makes his way over to sit on the
floor beside Trevor. "What did I miss?"
"We're talking about giving them a night alone here," Ellen explains.
"I'll do the cooking ahead of time, we'll set out flowers and candles,
and we'll make sure we're all gone before they get home."
"When can we do it?" Shane asks.
"What about tomorrow night?" Ellen asks Ed.
"I know they're hoping to resolve things sometime tomorrow," Ed
says slowly. "It would probably take them most of the day ....."
" .... giving us time to get everything set up," Ellen finishes
triumphantly. "I'll offer to keep the boys with me, and they can
help me out. Ed, can you get back here before they do to pick
up Shane and Trevor?"
"I'll try. Why don't I call you as the day goes on to let you know
what's happening?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," Ellen says cheerfully, and then breaks
off as she sees both Shane and Trevor look over at the bedroom
doors at the same moment. "Scatter!" she orders, beating a hasty
retreat to the kitchen just as the doors begin to open. Shane plucks
Mischief out of the nearest pizza box and bends over her studiously;
Trevor ducks his head over Smudge, tickling her stomach; and Ed
grabs his can of soda and drains it in one gulp, a little flushed in
his effort to look innocent.
"Am I interrupting something?" Sloan asks uncertainly.
"Just some stories Ed was telling about your time in college,"
Ellen replies. "Is Tom up?"
"He's just washing his face and he'll be out," Sloan says slowly,
descending the step to the main floor and bringing the empty tea
cup over to the counter. "Come on, I walked in on something, didn't
I?"
"Nothing, Sloan," Ellen says reassuringly, cutting a slice of cake
and placing it on one of the plates she'd set out on the counter.
"Nothing," Ed echoes, rising up from the couch to deliver his empty
plate and soda can to the counter and giving her a wide-eyed
grin.
"Shane?" Sloan sets the empty tea cup on the counter, and
looks over at the two boys on the floor. "Trevor?"
"I promised Davey we'd bring the kittens in to play with him,"
Shane says hastily, scooping Mischief up in his arms, and he and
Trevor beat a quick retreat, Trevor taking Smudge with him.
"Something's going on here," Sloan says suspiciously.
"I can't imagine what," Ellen says innocently, and holds up a
plate. "Cake, dear?"
"Oooh, please," Sloan says, instantly distracted as she reaches
out for the plate and a fork.
"Um .... Sloan," Ed says hesitantly, staring over at the ball of fur
on Sloan's computer table and then at Shane and Trevor's quickly
retreating backs.
"Hmm?" Sloan says, digging her fork into the cake with
anticipation.
"Where did all these kittens come from?"
~*~*~*~
Martin leans back in his chair in Marcus' office, watching the
reactions of the others in the meeting. Marcus' summons had
surprised him, as had his announcement that Sarah had been proven
to be the traitor .... he hadn't expected Marcus to move this fast.
Schooling his expression to one of both shock and regret, he listens
to him speak.
"All that's left is to decide what to do with Sarah," Marcus says
slowly. "If we followed the ways of the Council, she would be
executed. But we don't, and I refuse to take that step automatically."
"What *will* you do?" Peter Samuels asks. The senior
scientist sits at the back of the room in a chair near Martin's,
frowning up at Marcus with concern.
"For the moment, we'll keep questioning her, get what information
we can out of her, and then we'll decide her fate."
"Did she say why she did it?" one of the other scientists asks.
Marcus shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than
I have already. We'd prefer to keep silent on the details until
we can wrap up the last of our investigation, but I can assure
you you'll all be given a full report once we're done."
"But you have enough to convince you that she's guilty," Peter
says.
"Without a doubt," Marcus answers, meeting his gaze squarely.
"What about her assignments?" Andrea Scott asks. Another
scientist and a member of the team that had planned Tom's regression
therapy session, she looks around the room with concern. "She's spent
most of her time the last few days working with Martin at Whitney Labs,
but she's got a number of other responsibilities as well. Who will take
over for her?"
"And can we trust the work she's done?" another scientist asks.
"Could she have sabotaged the projects we're working on?"
"We'll be checking into that," Marcus answers him. "I plan to form a
team, headed by Peter, to examine her work on every project she's
been involved with for the past year. If she's skewed the results or
the process in any of them, we'll find out about it."
"How does this affect our partnership with Whitney Labs?" Martin
asks.
"What's happened hasn't shaken Walter's faith in us, fortunately ....
he expects me to assign a new liaison person in Sarah's place,
and told me to tell you he'll speak to you tomorrow about where
the project will go from here."
"I'll want to go over the work Sarah and I have done with his team
on the mind-control project," Martin points out. "Just to make sure
she didn't sabotage it in any way."
"Walter's doing that now. I'll need you to stay behind at the end of
the meeting, Martin .... we'll have to sit down and talk about
Sarah's replacement."
Martin nods his head silently, and Marcus looks at the rest of
the staff. "I'll be speaking with each of you privately to outline what
changes this will make to your own workloads, and any changes
we deem necessary in terms of security to prevent this ever
happening again. Any questions?"
"How safe are we in our offices?" another scientist asks. "Are
you sure you've found all the bugs?"
"We're in the process of checking that now," Marcus responds. "Jason's
men have swept Whitney Labs completely and are in the process of
doing that here as well. An initial examination of my office revealed
two bugs, and they were immediately removed. Believe me, I wouldn't
be speaking like this if I weren't convinced it was safe."
The scientist who'd spoken up glances around the room, his
expression clearing.
"Any other questions?"
The room falls silent as each member of the senior staff shakes their
heads, the shock of the news still visible on their faces.
"I'll be making an announcement to the rest of the staff here later today
and will be issuing a statement to the movement as a whole tomorrow,
as well as visiting all of our local operations." Marcus drops his gaze
down to his desktop, his hands resting on the back of his chair.
"This is a difficult time for us all. All I can do is appeal to you to
keep your departments functioning and your staff calm."
Nodding their heads, the senior staff members stand up and slowly
file out of Marcus' office, only Martin staying seated in his chair.
As the last of them leave, Sam finally moves from his position in the
corner of the room, unfolding his arms and meeting Marcus at the door.
"Call Tom," Marcus instructs him. "Tell him about Sarah. Then question
her again .... I want to know who her contact is."
"She's not talking, Marcus."
"Make her," Marcus orders grimly.
Martin watches as Sam nods briefly and leaves the room, shutting the
door quietly behind him. Marcus picks up a file off his desk and gestures
to Martin to join him at his conference table. "Replacing Sarah on the
liaison team is our first priority," Marcus says, taking a seat at the table
and watching as Martin sits down across from him. "You've worked with
Walter and Ed long enough now to know what they need, so I want your
input on this."
Martin shakes his head slowly. "I would have said Sarah met all
their requirements. It's hard to know who else to choose."
"We all thought she was perfect for the job," Marcus agrees,
his lips thinning.
"What was it, Marcus?" Martin asks curiously. "What made her
turn?"
"Martin, I know you have questions .... we all do," Marcus says
patiently. "But Sam and I are still trying to find out the answers
ourselves, and until we do, I'd rather not talk about it."
"It's just that I'm trying to understand." Martin looks at Marcus in
frustration. "I worked with her every day, spent almost all of my time
with her, and I didn't sense anything."
"None of us did," Marcus allows.
"Do you think it had anything to do with her birth status?"
Marcus frowns. "Being a fourth of four, you mean?"
Martin nods. "It was something we were always aware of .... that she'd
come so far, considering the odds she faced, and that she was, for all
her accomplishments, still an unknown quantity. Less predictable than
the rest of us, possibly, and less stable emotionally."
Marcus leans back in his chair, looking at him thoughtfully. "Officially,
we don't judge a person's birth status here, Martin."
"But unofficially?"
"Unofficially, Sarah is the first fourth to reach this level of
seniority." Marcus' eyes darken. "I wouldn't be honest if I weren't
looking at that as a factor in her betrayal."
"It's too bad," Martin says sympathetically. "She had such promise,
and you were the only one to give her the chance to prove that.
It must be hard, knowing that someone you've had such faith in
has betrayed you."
Marcus meets his gaze steadily. "Very hard."
~*~*~*~
Sarah stands with her back to the window as Sam lets himself into
the room where she's being held, the guard hovering behind him.
"More questions?" she asks quietly, and he gives her a cold look.
"I'll keep asking them until I get the answers I want, Sarah."
"I can't tell you what I don't know, Sam."
Sam turns to the guard. "Get the equipment I ordered from the med
lab."
The guard nods silently, backing away and shutting the door behind
him.
"Sam .... " Sarah begins, but he holds his hand up, silencing her.
"Take a seat, Sarah." Sam sits down in the single chair facing the
bed and motions her to sit across from him. When she doesn't
move, he looks up at her, his expression suddenly softening. "Take
a seat, Sarah," he repeats. "Please."
Sarah looks at him in confusion and slowly does as he asks, sitting
up straight on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry for that performance just now," Sam says in a low voice.
"And for what's about to happen. I don't have time to explain, but
I will, once the guard is gone for good."
"I don't understand."
"Just go along with whatever I do or say."
Sarah looks at him uncertainly and then nods, clenching her hands
tightly together.
A quiet knock at the door seconds later signals the guard's return.
Sam stands up to answer the door and takes a small metal tray from
him. "No interruptions," he says tersely. "I'll let you know when
I'm done."
"Yes, sir." The guard leaves the room quickly, closing the door
behind him, and Sarah's eyes widen as Sam turns and lays the metal
tray down on the bed beside her. Lying there, side by side, is a
syringe and a small vial of liquid.
"Give me your towel," Sam instructs her, reaching for the syringe.
Sarah hesitates, staring at the needle. Sam, seeing the doubt on her
face, lays the needle back down and kneels before her. "It will
be all right, Sarah. Just do as I say."
Sarah looks down into his clear blue eyes and senses the truth of
his words. Nodding slowly, she rises to her feet and fetches the
small towel they had left her in the bathroom attached to her
makeshift cell.
"Hold it for me," Sam says, and reaches once more for
the syringe and the vial beside it, filling the syringe and then
taking the towel from Sarah's hand. Carefully depressing the
syringe, he empties all of the liquid it contains, folding the
towel in half when he's done.
"Sam, what's going on?" Sarah asks in bewilderment, staring down at
the metal tray.
"You're being questioned, Sarah, with the help of drugs," Sam says,
rising to his feet and gesturing her to sit back down on the bed.
Taking the chair across from her, he gives her an apologetic smile.
"At least, that's what the guard will say, if anyone questions him."
Sarah glances at the door and then back at Sam, her expression still
puzzled. "Then you're not really here to question me?"
Sam shakes his head. "I'm here to apologize, and to explain." He
takes a deep breath. "We know you're not the traitor, Sarah.
But we need to keep up the pretense that you are while we set
a trap for the real ones."
"Who .... ?"
"Martin Donovan and his sister Meredith."
Sarah stares at him with wide eyes. "His sister?"
Sam nods, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "You
were right to question Martin's recent actions, Sarah. He set you up.
He tried to isolate you from anyone who would support you; he planted
evidence in your house to implicate you in the bugging of our offices
and Walter's; and he tampered with your computer to make it look as
though you were the one who sabotaged Tom's therapy session."
"How did you find all this out?"
"I can't tell you the specifics, but I can tell you that we've discovered
a link between Martin and his sister and someone on the Council.
Meredith has been meeting with this person for months, and we believe
that she's providing him with information on us and helping him plan to
destroy us."
"What will you do now?"
"Try to trap them both," Sam says intenty. "Hopefully by tomorrow
morning. Once we do, we'll be able to let you out of here
and let everyone know of your innocence. But until then .... "
"Until then, you need me in here to keep Martin convinced that
I'm your only suspect," Sarah concludes. She glances at the
vial and syringe in the tray beside her on the bed and then back up
at Sam. "This is in case Martin asks what you're doing in here?"
Sam nods. "We have to be thorough .... Martin's been asking a lot
of questions. I'll leave here an hour from now with the tray and the
empty syringe, and we'll make sure you look mussed and drugged
when I go."
"Do you think he suspects anything?"
"Hopefully not, after this morning." Sam looks up at Sarah with an
apology in his eyes. "Marcus felt we needed to do something dramatic
to convince him, so he held a meeting with the senior staff to announce
that you've been proven to be the traitor. He's reassigning your work
and has told them that the only decision left to be made is how
you'll be punished."
"So everyone thinks I did it," Sarah says quietly.
"For the moment. We'll set the record straight the minute we
can."
Sarah nods wordlessly.
"If it helps, I don't think Peter believes it. None of them want
to."
"You did, Sam," Sarah says in a strained voice, looking up at him.
"When you questioned me, you believed in the evidence. Walter didn't
.... I could sense his doubt. And I know that Ed didn't. But you did."
Sam meets her gaze silently and slowly nods his head. "I believed
in the evidence," he admits.
"I thought you knew me better than that."
"I do," Sam admits. "I did then too." He hesitates, choosing his words
carefully. "I've been off balance the last few days, Sarah. Something
happened that made me question myself and my judgment, and you
suffered for it."
"What was it?"
Sam shakes his head. "I wish I could tell you, but it's not my story to
tell."
Sarah cocks her head as she surveys him. "But you're better now?"
"I will be," Sam concedes, "once you're out of here."
Sarah smiles at him faintly. "So will I."
~*~*~*~
Sloan looks up to see Shane pausing at one of the dining
room windows, his features lit by the street lights outside.
Setting her book aside, she rises up off the couch and
walks over to stand by his side.
"Are you okay?" she asks quietly.
He doesn't answer her, looking instead at the evening traffic on
the street below. "It's weird, standing here, knowing that
the plans Tom came up with are being set in motion." He twists
his head to look at her. "He's out there on surveillance,
waiting to catch a traitor, and Jason's men are watching my
parents' house, waiting for the signal to attack and capture
them." His voice trails off, and he hunches his shoulders slightly.
"My parents could be dead in a few hours or days because of
what's being done right now. And I know that it's the only way
out for us, but .... "
"But what?" she prompts him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder
comfortingly.
Shane turns to lean his forehead against the glass, watching the
people on the street below. "I keep wondering how I'll explain this
to Trevor. How I'll make him understand."
Sloan glances behind her at the open doorway to the new rooms,
where she can see Trevor crouched on the floor over his drawing
pad, trying to sketch one of the kittens. Ellen and Davey had finally
left at 8, dinner finished and the dishes done, and Tom had left
minutes later to take over surveillance of Martin Donovan's house.
Trevor had taken his drawing pad and retreated to the unfinished
rooms, and Shane had become quiet and withdrawn.
"He has the same memories that you do, and the same fears," she
points out. "He'll know that it was the only choice you could make."
Shane lifts his gaze to look at her, and then back at Trevor. "I hope so,"
he says softly.
~*~*~*~
"The rumor is that Sam drugged her during this afternoon's questioning,"
Martin tells Meredith, digging into his cardboard container of
Chinese food. "Marcus told him to get results, no matter what
it took."
Meredith leans back in her chair, the search program on her computer
temporarily forgotten. "He's that convinced that she's guilty?"
Martin nods. "He's already reassigning her workload and says he'll be
sending out a movement-wide message tomorrow identifying her as
the traitor."
"What happens when she can't tell them anything?"
Martin shrugs dismissively. "Marcus will be convinced she's
blocking them somehow. It will make him more suspicious than
ever."
"What does he plan on doing with her?"
Martin shakes his head. "He won't go for an automatic execution,
he's said that much."
Meredith snorts contemptuously. "He's weak .... too weak
to do his duty."
"He may be smarter than you think," Martin points out. "Most
people were shocked enough at Sarah's betrayal .... I don't think
they want her executed either, not without a lot of thought first."
"Which is why the movement should be eradicated," Meredith
says flatly, turning back to her computer and checking her search
program. "Their very existence weakens us all."
Martin finishes off the last of his Chinese food and sets the
container aside before reaching for his own computer keyboard.
"Anything so far?"
"Not yet," she begins, and then frowns, staring intently at the
monitor screen. "The search program's just found some key
phrases in a conversation Marcus had with Sam, though
....
~*~*~*~
"Still quiet?" Jason asks, sliding into the car seat beside
Tom, a duffel bag in his hand. Parked more than a block away
from Martin's house and under the protective shadows of a
large oak tree, Tom's car blends into the darkness of the night.
He had arrived here thirty minutes earlier to relieve Jason's
look-out.
Tom nods. "Martin's been in there since 6, but Meredith just
arrived twenty minutes ago or so."
"I know," Jason says grimly. "We were set for her to show up
at the restaurant at her usual time of 5:45, but she didn't make
it until 8:30."
"What happened?"
"A last-minute meeting at her office, according to a source I contacted
there." Jason glances down at the laptop computer resting
next to Tom on the car seat. "How's the satellite feed?"
"Strong .... the satellite's picked up on her signal and is
focused on the house right now. I'll be able to track her with
no problem."
"Good." Jason reaches into the duffel bag and pulls out a small
headset. "I've brought the parabolic mike, in case you need it, and
a night-vision camera. The mike's set to deliver a feed to you
through this headset and on to us in the van, where we'll record
whatever is said. Just use the cord I've attached to patch
it in." He holds it out to Tom. "You can also speak directly to
us through it .... use it to keep in touch with us and let us know
if you need us to step in with back-up."
Tom takes the headset from Jason, putting it in place and
adjusting it for fit. "Stay well back .... both Meredith and
her contact will be wary, and they'll pull out if they sense
anything."
"Do you think the contact will have men of his own nearby?"
"I don't think so," Tom replies. "From what David's said, Harris
Templeton is too intent on secrecy to want any witnesses around
.... not even his own."
Jason nods silently.
"Are your teams set for tomorrow?"
"I'll have four of my people at each building," Jason confirms.
"Marcus wants us to wait until Meredith and Martin are both in
their offices .... that way they won't sense any trouble when
we approach. They'll just think we're there on business. Marcus
will be the one to arrest Meredith; Sam will arrest Martin at
our lab." Glancing over at Tom, he adds, "Marcus wants
you there for Meredith's interrogation .... he remembers what you
did with Drew Richards and thinks those kind of tactics may be
needed with her."
Tom nods abruptly. "What about the Bakers?"
"I've got a team in place, waiting to move. The Bakers have
been holding some kind of meeting at their house for over two
hours now .... we'll close in as soon as the last guest is gone."
"A dominant meeting?"
"Humans. We'll make it look as though someone's returned
for something .... I've got a female operative who's had some
training in masking. She'll be the one to make contact."
Tom nods, his eyes fixed on the house in the distance.
"Is everything set up at the plant?"
"Two cages, side by side. One light overhead." Jason looks
over at Tom. "Just the way you wanted it."
~*~*~*~
"You're sure Harris doesn't suspect anything," Charles persists.
"If he does, I had no sense of it," Judith answers, surveying
their dining room table and the remains of the buffet supper she'd
served an hour earlier to members of their church board. "The
daily meeting went without incident, and when we met with Harris
later to discuss new ways of infiltrating the peace movement,
he treated us as he always has."
"He wouldn't make a move until he was sure." Charles loosens his
tie and undoes the top collar of his dress shirt. He's still
in his suit, having arrived home just as the first of the board
members pulled up behind him in their cars. "He'd sit back and
wait for us to make a mistake."
Judith leans over to blow out the candles in the two gleaming
silver candelabras set out on the table. "That's why we have to
be careful. No more meetings with Roger, and no more attempts
to get the boys back .... not until we're sure it's safe."
Charles frowns. "What about David? Did you ever find him?"
"Not until late in the afternoon." Judith begins collecting
the dirty dishes and stacking them into two neat piles. "He said
he'd been working on a project for Harris."
"Will he keep silent?"
Judith lifts one pile of dishes and heads toward the kitchen,
Charles following her with the second pile in his hands. "He
has to," she answers him flatly. "If the truth got out, he'd be
labeled as a traitor just as we would be, and Harris would show
no mercy."
Charles shakes his head. "If the truth gets out, from
any source .... "
"It won't." Judith sets the plates down and turns to him with a
determined expression on her face. "Not as long as we're careful.
We'll bide our time, make sure our positions are secure, and then
we'll devise a new plan to get Trevor and Shane away from Tom
Daniels and Sloan Parker."
"People were asking me about the boys again tonight." Charles
sets the dishes he carries down on a nearby counter.
"Several of them wondered when they'd be back."
Judith nods reluctantly. "We'll have to come up with a new
explanation, something people will accept."
"We can blame it on Shane," Charles suggests. "We've already
said that he's given us trouble .... been rebellious, unsettled.
We could say that we've decided to have him stay at your aunt's
for the time being .... we'd tell the humans that we're looking
into private schools and our own people that we're considering
intensive re-education." He frowns. "That doesn't explain
Trevor's absence, though."
"Trevor's Shane's anchor and we recognize the need to keep
the two together," Judith says slowly, "no matter how hard it
is for us to be separated from them. The humans will accept
that."
"And the Council?"
"We'll say that we consider him to be contaminated by Shane's
influence and that he's also in need of re-education."
"It could work," Charles says thoughtfully.
Both suddenly look up as the front doorbell rings, and Charles
glances toward the hallway. "Someone must have forgotten
something."
"It's probably the minister .... he's always leaving things
behind."
Charles heads to the front door, Judith following behind
to gather more dirty dishes from the dining room. Reaching
for one of the platters of food, her back to the hallway, she
doesn't see Charles go down just after opening the door,
sprayed in the face with a paralyzing gas. She senses
the panic in his mind in the instant before he drops,
though, and is at the doorway of the dining room when the
woman who had attacked Charles catches her. A quick spray
to Judith's face and she too falls to the ground.
The female operative, her two targets down, heads for the security
panel on the hallway wall, turning off the outside lights. A
quick word into her headset summons the rest of the team, and
they pull into the driveway seconds later, spilling out of
the sliding side door of their black, unmarked van. Charles
and Judith are quickly bundled into black body bags, carried
to the van, and dumped unceremoniously on the van's floor,
the team crowding in after them.
The van is a block away when the woman pulls out her cell
phone and punches in Jason Stuart's number. "It's done," she
says briefly.
~*~*~*~
"What is it?" Martin asks curiously, glancing over for the
third time at Meredith's set expression.
She ignores him, her eyes fixed on the computer screen in
front of her.
Martin closes the last file of information downloaded from the
bugs, his attention still on his sister. He'd turned up nothing
so far, just a series of conversations between lab assistants
and scientists at Marcus' lab.
Meredith finally turns to look at him. "Roger Abbott is
Tom Daniels' source on the Council," she says slowly.
"He's what?" Martin stares at her in disbelief.
"Marcus and Sam Anderson spent part of their meeting this
morning telling Walter Attwood about the latest information
Abbott had passed on to them." She stares back at her computer
screen and the transcript of the conversation she'd called up. "They
also talked about the need to keep his identity a secret and worried
about the fact that one of our bugs might have picked up a conversation
Anderson and Daniels had about Abbott."
"So Tom named Abbott in that conversation we taped?"
"According to this, he did." Meredith gestures at the computer
screen. "You told me that Marcus had rejected Abbott's
offer to join the movement."
"He did, as far as I know. The rumor is that Marcus suspected
him of being a Council plant."
Meredith nods. "They're saying here that they staged the whole
thing to make Abbott look loyal to the Council." She frowns at Martin.
"Is there any chance Marcus knew this meeting was being bugged?"
"None. He told us today that they'd found two bugs in his
office and taken them out, and that he was convinced his
office was clean."
"But you planted *three* bugs in his office."
"I did," Martin confirms. "They missed the bug under the
conference table."
"How likely is it that they would have made a mistake like that?"
she asks skeptically.
"The way things were yesterday? Tom had been hurt, everyone
was trying to find out who'd done it, and Marcus and Sam
were barely speaking to each other. Both of them were
distracted enough to have missed the third bug."
Meredith looks at the computer screen assessingly, and then, with
a small nod, reaches for her cell phone and dials in a now-familiar
number. "I have something," she says abruptly.
~*~*~*~
"She's leaving," Tom says suddenly, lifting his night-vision
binoculars to take a closer look.
Jason lifts his own set of binoculars and watches as Meredith
Donovan strides out the front door of Martin's house and down
his front steps. "How's the downlink?"
Tom glances down at his laptop computer. "The satellite's
picked up on her movements."
"Good." Clasping his binoculars in one hand, Jason opens his car
door and climbs out. "We'll follow behind you .... just let us
know your route, in case we get caught in traffic."
Tom nods wordlessly, starting his car up and pulling away from
the curb as soon as Jason closes the car door. Meredith has
already pulled out of Martin's driveway and is heading north, her
brake lights flashing as she reaches the stop sign at the end
of the street. Tom follows her at a safe distance, glancing
in his rear-view mirror in time to see a dark van pull up
beside Jason long enough for him to get in.
Forty minutes later, Meredith slows down to turn off onto
a side road in a wooded area in the hills above the city.
Tom falls back slightly, letting the distance between them
grow. They wind their way through a series of turns before
Meredith comes to a stop, pulling her car in among the trees
and flicking off her lights. Tom pulls off the road some
distance back and gets out, carrying his laptop in one hand
and the duffel bag Jason had left him in the other. His
masking firmly in place, he stealthily approaches the area
where Meredith's car is parked and crouches down behind
a large tree as she emerges and waits by the side of the road.
By the time the dark sedan pulls up beside her, Tom has the
parabolic mike and night-vision camera set out at his side,
along with his laptop. Using the camera, he snaps a shot of
the man who emerges from the driver's seat, his eyes narrowing
as he recognizes him as Robert Tilton, Harris Templeton's
aide. David had been right .... Templeton appears to be Meredith
Donovan's contact. Snapping another quick shot, he watches
as Tilton opens the back door for Meredith, who disappears
inside.
"She's in the car," Tom says in a low voice, reaching into
the duffel bag for the parabolic mike. "The satellite won't
be able to pick anything up .... I'm switching to the mike."
Tom patches the small black cord into the mike and focuses
the mike in the direction of the car, activating its laser
beam. As soon as he does so, a man's voice comes through
his headset, speaking quietly. Tom closes his eyes,
concentrating on his words.
"What do you have for me?" the man asks.
"Marcus Adams confirming that Roger Abbott is Tom Daniels' contact,"
Meredith answers him. Tom can hear her coat rustling as she moves.
"What's this?"
"A tape of a meeting between Adams, Sam Anderson, and Walter
Attwood this morning. They discussed Abbott's role as Tom's contact
and a warning he sent them last night of an impending attack on
Daniels authorized by two of your people."
There was a moment of silence, and when the man spoke, his
voice was hard. "Charles and Judith Baker?"
"How did you know?" Meredith asks in surprise.
"Did they say what happened to the team?" he asks, ignoring her
question.
"Dead .... all but one of them. Those who weren't killed in the
attack killed themselves this morning on some kind of prearranged
signal."
More silence. "What about the one survivor?"
"Sam Anderson says he's been persuaded to tell all he knows
about the attack."
"And Tom Daniels?"
"Recovering from the electrocution, but more slowly than they
expected. From the sound of it, he's no longer a threat, at least
for the moment."
"What about their investigation?" the man asks. "Is your
brother still a suspect?"
"Not any more. They're convinced Sarah Fielding is the
traitor."
"It would seem your plan to implicate her worked," the
man observes clinically.
"She was the obvious choice," Meredith replies. "Her birth
status and her personality made her easy to isolate. All it
took was a few pieces of planted evidence and people were ready
to believe the worst about her."
The man shifts in his seat, and Tom can hear the click
of a briefcase opening. "It's time to make our next move,
while they're still dealing with the aftermath of what's
happened. Here .... take this. Install it in the computer
system tomorrow morning."
"What is it?"
"A slow-acting computer virus, masked to evade anti-virus
programs. Within three days, the movement's entire computer
network will be corrupted, including their security system."
"And then .... ?"
"We attack." Tom hears the briefcase click shut again.
"Contact me tomorrow night," the man says. "I want
more on Abbott and that surviving team member."
Seeing the car door open, Tom quickly sets the mike down
on the ground, still pointed in the direction of the sedan,
and picks up the camera. Meredith climbs out of the car,
tucking something in her pocket, and Tom zooms in on the
open car door with his telephoto lens as she turns back to say
something. But the interior of the car is too dark, and the
man inside stays well hidden as she shuts the door.
Stepping back, Meredith watches as Tilton turns the car
around and heads back the way he had come. Tom swiftly
gathers his equipment together as Meredith climbs into her car,
starts its engine, and follows the path the sedan has taken.
Racing to his car, Tom is soon in pursuit, keeping a steady
distance between her car and his.
"I'll follow her back," he tells Jason through the headset.
"Set up surveillance on her house .... once she's there, I don't
want her leaving for any reason until morning, not with that
virus in her possession."
"Should we take her in tonight?"
"No." Tom turns onto the main road, Meredith's brake lights
showing in the distance. "We'll stick to the original plan.
I want her caught in her office, with the CD or disk or whatever
Harris gave her in her possession .... just tell Marcus to make
sure he moves in before she puts it in the computer."
"I will."
"Did you get it on tape?"
"All of it."
"Good. I'll need a copy of it tonight .... since we couldn't
get a visual on the man in the car, we'll need David to identify
the voice."
"I'll have one ready for you by the time you leave her
house."
~*~*~*~
"That's him," David says quietly. "That's Harris Templeton."
Tom shuts the tape off and turns to look at him. The two of
them are sitting in Tom's car at their customary meeting place on
the hillside overlooking the city, David looking rumpled and
tired after having been woken by Tom's phone call. "What do
you think?" Tom asks. "You know him better than we do."
"I think he's convinced. You've given him enough to convict
Roger before he even interrogates him."
"And the Bakers?"
David glances over at him. "What you have planned for them
will seal their fate."
"What will they do to them? Execute them?"
David nods his head. "They'll have a show trial first, as a
warning to the rest of us. It will happen soon .... maybe in two
or three days .... and they'll go through the motions. But they'll
execute them as soon as it's over." Looking over at Tom, he
asks, "What will happen to the Donovans?"
"I'm not sure. Marcus will probably hold a trial too, but a real
one. He's determined to be fair, and to be seen as being fair. After that,
I'm not sure what will happen .... it's up to Marcus to decide."
Tom falls silent, staring out over the city below. "This clears you,
David," he says finally. "With Abbott dead, Harris will think he's
eliminated the one contact I had with the Council. You could
go back to your old life if you wanted to."
"I could," David agrees, "but I won't. What you're doing is right. I'll
help you for as long as I can."
"We could use you," Tom says gratefully, and nods at the tape
recorder in his lap. "What about this .... have you heard
anything about this computer virus?"
David shakes his head. "Nothing. But that's not surprising
.... Harris compartmentalizes. The only reason he told me about
the traitor inside Marcus' movement is because he knew he might
need me to clean up tapes for him. Presumably the only people
who know about the virus are the ones who created it for him."
"Once we have Meredith in custody, we'll hand whatever Harris
gave her over to Marcus' scientists. Just because Harris won't get
to use the virus this time doesn't mean he won't try again. We'll
need to find a way to protect ourselves from it."
"Do you want me to see what I can do on my end? If I could
find out which scientists worked on it, I could try to uncover
their data."
"Not yet," Tom replies. "I don't want to risk you any more
than I have to. We'll see what Marcus' people come up with."
David nods. "Just let me know."
"Focus on tomorrow for now. I'll be contacting Harris
about the Bakers sometime in the morning, after we have
Martin and Meredith in custody. Are you prepared for what
the Bakers and Roger Abbott may say about you?"
"They'll try to implicate me in what happened, but Harris
trusts me and he doesn't trust them." His gaze flickers
for a moment. "He'll believe me."
Sensing David's conflicting emotions, Tom looks at him
sympathetically. "It's still difficult for you, isn't it?"
"It is," David admits. "But I've made my choice."
~*~*~*~
Charles stirs, frowning with the effort of moving his head.
A bright light overhead beats through his closed eyelids,
and the floor underneath him is hard and unyielding.
He stretches cautiously, feeling his muscles protest, and his
foot bangs against something metal, the sound reverberating
in the silence that surrounds him. Reaching out with his hand,
he feels more metal .... a long, cylindrical bar.
Opening his eyes, he peers at a series of bars stretched
out before him. Beyond them, he can see a cage with a light
shining dimly overhead. There's a figure inside, dressed in gray
silk, lying prone on the floor. Judith.
Charles raises himself up on his elbow, blinking slowly as
he realizes where he is. Back in the plant he had visited
just once. In a cage.
"Daniels," he breathes.
~*~*~*~
Sloan stirs as Tom climbs into bed beside her. "Tom?"
"Sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay," she murmurs, tucking herself against him, her
body warm and soft with sleep. "How did it go?"
"We got enough on tape to convict Meredith." Tom wraps his
arm around her, holding her close.
"And Martin?"
"We'll get him too, once we start questioning them."
"What about the Bakers?"
"They're at the plant."
Sloan moves against him sleepily, tucking her head under
his chin. "Shane was quiet tonight," she says softly.
"And sad. Trevor knew something was wrong."
"I'll talk to them both tomorrow." Tom closes his eyes,
feeling his weary body sink into the softness of the bed.
"Actually, Ellen's going to keep them here with her
to work on the new rooms. She asked if she could, and
it seemed like a good idea .... it will give them both
something to focus on."
Tom smoothes his hand down her back, his fingers brushing
over the silk of her pajamas. "Where will you be?"
"With you." Sloan rests her hand on his chest, her fingers
curling into his T-shirt. "Tomorrow's going be a tough day
for you, going back into that plant .... seeing that cage
again. I thought you might need me."
"I do," Tom says softly, moving his head to kiss the top of
her head gently. "Always. But this is something I have to do
on my own, Sloan."
Sloan stills the movement of her hand. "Don't you think you've
been on your own long enough, Tom?"
Tom's fingers shift restlessly against her waist. "Sloan
.... What you'd see, what you'd hear me say .... It's a
part of me that should be kept separate from us, from what
we have here."
Sloan tilts her head back slightly to look at him in the
dim moonlight shining in through the window. "The part of you
that still thinks and acts like a chameleon?"
Tom nods silently.
"I know who you are, Tom," Sloan says quietly, propping herself
up on her elbow to look down at him. "And I know what you've
done. I don't judge you for it, and I won't feel any differently
after tomorrow." Leaning forward, she cups his cheek in her hand.
"I want to be there with you when you face that cage again.
You shouldn't have to do it alone."
"I'll be all right, Sloan," Tom says patiently. "I'm used to being
on my own."
"Too used to it." Sloan traces the curve of his cheek with her
finger. "Let me come with you, Tom. Please."
Tom looks up at her in the dim moonlight, sensing her
determination. "You aren't going to take no for an answer,
are you?" he asks, a hint of reluctant humor in his voice.
"No," she says, a smile in her voice. "I'm not."
Reaching up, he brings her head down to his, kissing her gently.
"I don't think I understood how alone I was until I met you," he
says quietly.
Sloan kisses him back, sliding down against him. "You won't
be, as long as you have me." Pulling her lips from his, she kisses
his cheek and then the curve of his jaw, and leans back just
far enough to look into his eyes. "Do I get to come?"
"Which car do you want to take?" he asks, surrendering at last.
"Yours or mine?"
Sloan feels her heart turn over. "I love you, you know."
"I know," he murmurs, rolling to one side with her in his arms.
A muffled squeak sounds behind him, and Sloan cranes her head
to look over his shoulder at the small ball of fur that has
tumbled over on its side and the pair of bright eyes that peer
up at her. "Shadow's in the bed again," she observes, biting
back a smile.
"She jumped up beside me just after I got in," Tom confesses,
sounding faintly embarrassed. He gives a small, apologetic
shrug as the kitten curls up against his back again, giving a
tiny sigh. "She seems to like sleeping with me."
Sloan laughs softly, wrapping her arms around him. "She's not
the only one."
~*~*~*~
"I realize that we're keeping you from starting your workday," Marcus
says, surveying the group assembled before him in the meeting
room of the movement's Riverside office. Jason's team had
efficiently herded all twenty of the staff members there upon their
arrival for work, including Meredith Donovan. "But we felt it was
necessary to do this as soon as possible."
"You think there are bugs planted here?" one staff member asks
in disbelief. "Sarah Fielding had no contact with us."
"As far as we know, that's true," Marcus acknowledges. "But after
what's happened, we aren't willing to take the chance that she wasn't
here at some point without your knowledge."
"But stopping us before we can even get to our desks this
morning?" another staffer asks, exchanging a concerned glance
with Meredith. "Do you suspect one of us of having worked with her?"
"No, I don't," Marcus says firmly. "Our belief is that Sarah acted
alone. She managed to do so for months without our knowledge, though,
and so we plan on taking every precaution to protect the movement,
including a complete scan of every office the movement runs."
"It seems only wise," Meredith says supportively, glancing at
her fellow workers and then looking back up at Marcus. "Have you
been able to judge yet what kind of damage she's done?"
"We're still in the process of assessing that." Marcus looks up as
one of his men appears in the open doorway and shakes his head.
"It looks as though the last of the scans is finished and that
no bugs were found," Marcus adds, looking back at the assembled
staff. "You're free to go to your offices now, and my thanks for
your patience."
With relieved looks on their faces, the staff members rise up out
of their chairs and begin filing out of the room, banding together
into groups of two and three to talk quietly among themselves.
Marcus intercepts Meredith at the door. "I'm glad I've got the
chance to talk to you," he says with a brief smile. "I wanted to
ask you how your father is doing."
"Very well," she responds cordially. "He'll be pleased to know
you asked."
"I've been too busy to drop in on him and talk about his new
project," Marcus says, falling into step with her as they walk
down the hallway together. "How is it going?"
"Good, as far as I know." She glances at him curiously. "I thought
he'd have reported in to you by now."
"Joe?" Marcus shakes his head. "He won't until he's got some
results .... you know the way he works."
"True," she acknowledges, nodding at a passing colleague.
"He doesn't even tell his assistants everything until he's sure
his premise is valid."
"His methods are unorthodox, but he always gets results." Marcus
stands aside as they reach her office door. "I don't know
what we'd have done all these years without him."
"He says the same thing about you." Meredith enters her
office with Marcus following her, and waves him to a chair
facing her desk as she sits down, setting her briefcase and
purse on the floor beside her. "How are *you* doing,
Marcus? The last few days must have been difficult for you."
"They have," he acknowledges, taking a seat. "But now that
we know who the traitor is, things should get better." He leans
back in his chair, crossing his legs casually. "Martin's been
willing to do anything he can to help."
"I'm glad to hear that," she responds. "I know he's been
concerned."
"It's surprising, when you think of it," Marcus observes, his
voice pensive. "Unless it's a tactic."
"I don't understand." Meredith frowns at him in polite confusion.
"A tactic?"
Marcus nods. "To cover the fact that he's the one who planted
the bugs in the labs."
Meredith's frown deepens. "What?"
"Sarah Fielding was never the traitor, Meredith," Marcus says evenly.
"You just made her look like one to give you and Martin enough
time to carry out your plan of destroying the movement."
"Marcus .... " Meredith looks at him in apparent bewilderment.
"I don't know where this is coming from, but I can assure you
that neither one of us has done anything wrong."
"In your minds, I'm sure that's true," Marcus acknowledges.
"Otherwise, someone would have sensed your intent."
"There was no intent," Meredith insists. "Sarah Fielding *is* the
traitor, Marcus. You announced that yourself in front of the
entire staff."
"Only as part of a ruse to get you in here alone before you
could do any more damage." Marcus leans forward, his hand
outstretched. "I'll take your briefcase, Meredith .... and your
purse."
Meredith glances down at her briefcase. "I don't understand
any of this," she says slowly, reaching down to place them
both on top of her desk.
Marcus stands up to open her briefcase, only to find it locked.
"The combination, Meredith," he says patiently, looking up at
her.
Wordlessly she dials in the six-code number and watches as he
opens it. He searches through her papers methodically, ignoring
the small, curious group of people who have begun to linger on the
other side of the glass wall to Meredith's office. Finding three
computer disks tucked in the side pocket, he holds them up and
raises his eyebrow at her.
"My work files," she explains, staring up at him. "Correspondence,
reports I'm preparing."
Pocketing the disks, he continues his search of her briefcase
and discovers a CD tucked into a file of papers. "And this?"
he asks, holding it up for her to see.
"A recordable CD, containing a program I've been working on."
Turning, she gestures at her computer. "You're welcome to
put it the drive and see for yourself."
"I don't think so," he says gently, tucking the CDR in another
pocket of his suit and closing her briefcase.
"Marcus," she says earnestly. "You can't believe this. You
know me .... you know my family. We've worked for peace longer
than you have."
"Your parents have," he corrects her, his voice hardening.
"Your sisters and brothers have. But you and Martin? You've
betrayed everything they've worked for all these years." Moving
to the open doorway, his gaze never leaving hers, he makes a
silent gesture and two armed men appear behind him, two more
clearing away the small group of people who had gathered outside.
Meredith, still seated in her chair, looks at the two men with
widening eyes and then at Marcus. "Marcus .... "
"I'm taking you in for questioning, Meredith," he says
brusquely, lifting her briefcase and purse off the desk. "I'd
cooperate, if I were you."
Meredith gazes back at the two men and slowly rises out of
her chair. "There was never any question that I wouldn't,
Marcus," she says slowly, moving around her desk to
stand before him. "I just hope that we can clear this up as
quickly as possible so that you can focus on the real traitor."
"Don't worry, Meredith," he says, meeting her gaze squarely.
"We are."
~*~*~*~
"You knew," Sarah says, looking up at Ed as the guard ushers
him into her room.
Turning to nod to the guard, Ed waits until the man has left the
room and shut the door behind him, and then he takes a seat in
the chair facing Sarah. "About Martin and Meredith?" he asks.
"Yeah, I knew. I couldn't say anything, though, not until Sam
and Marcus had the evidence they needed to make their move."
She glances past him at the door. "Can you tell me what's
happening?"
"Tom followed Meredith last night and saw her meet with someone
from the Council. Marcus is at her office now to bring her in for
questioning, and Sam's just called Martin into the testing room
to confront him."
"What will happen to them?"
"Marcus wants Sam and Tom to interrogate them to find out
how much damage they've done and what their plans were. After
that, I don't know what he'll do with them."
"How soon will they let me go?"
"As soon as Marcus gets back with Meredith." Ed reaches out to
take both her hands in his. "He plans on making a statement to the
staff as a whole, with you by his side, to clear your name. You can
be back at your desk and at work first thing in the morning."
Sarah's gaze turns pensive, and she stares down at their linked
hands. "I've been wondering what that will be like .... whether
everyone will accept me back." She shakes her head, her fingers
flexing tensely under his. "Right now they all think I'm the traitor.
They may not be so easily convinced that I'm not."
"Marcus will make it absolutely clear that you're not," Ed says
reassuringly.
Sarah nods her head slowly, her mind filled with doubt as she
thinks about her status among the other scientists .... the only
fourth of four, the one some of them had always watched closely
and questioned ....
Giving herself a small shake, she tries to distract herself. "Sam
told me that Marcus had begun reassigning my work as part of
their ruse to trick Martin. It may take him a while to explain to
everyone, but I could use the time to work on Tom's sterility
problem. I'd need your results, and then we could discuss my
idea .... "
"That's tomorrow," Ed says firmly. "Today we get you out of here,
and then we have a date to help plan."
"A what?" she asks, her thoughts scattering.
"A date for Tom and Sloan," Ed explains. "Mrs. Peabody and the
boys are planning a special night for Sloan and Tom tonight ....
flowers, candles, music, and a romantic dinner. I'm supposed to
be picking up the flowers and candles, and taking the boys to my
place for the night to give the two lovebirds some privacy. I figured
maybe you could help."
"Me?"
"We'll have to go to the florist first .... Mrs. P says Sloan likes
cream-colored roses, and I don't know much about flowers. And
we're supposed to find candles the same color."
"Ed, I don't know anything about roses and candles." Sarah tries
unsuccessfully to pull her hands away from his, looking remarkably
rattled for a dominant, but he holds on tight. "Neither do I," he admits
cheerfully. "I thought we'd learn together."
"But I have work to catch up on," she protests.
"Not today you don't .... Marcus agrees that you need a break
from everything that's happened, and that's what you'll have. We'll
help Mrs. Peabody and the boys get the apartment set up, and then
we'll head to my place to break out the popcorn and surfing movies."
"Surfing movies?"
~*~*~*~
"I'm glad to hear that Marcus finally wants my help," Martin
says, pulling a chair up across from Sam in the testing
room and sitting down. "But I thought your investigation was over."
"The initial part," Sam acknowledges, looking up from his computer
monitor. "Now we're sifting through the information we've
gathered, trying to determine how much damage was done."
"What has Sarah told you?" Martin asks, settling back
comfortably in his chair.
"Not much." Sam finishes saving the data he'd just entered.
"She's displayed a surprising resistance to the drugs we gave her."
Martin cocks his head in thought. "It's possible that the
Council gave her something to make her impervious to them.
Or her particular physiology as a fourth could be a factor."
"It's possible," Sam agrees.
"What can I do to help?"
"There are certain questions we're still trying to answer." Sam
leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
"Who the contact on the Council is. How much sensitive information
was passed along. What the Council has planned for us."
Martin frowns. "I'm not sure what you think I can do."
"For a start, you can tell us why you set her up to look like
the traitor," Sam says bluntly. "And whose idea it was to betray
us to the Council .... yours or Meredith's."
Martin stares at him blankly. "Betray you?"
"Marcus' guess is that it's Meredith," Sam explains. "She's
the one who's been meeting with your contact the last several
months, after all."
"Sam .... " Martin sits up straight in his chair, his eyes
widening. "You're kidding me, right?"
"She's also the one who got you the bugs you planted here and in
Walter's lab. Marcus is convinced that she's the one who's
organized this and that you take your orders from her."
Martin shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't know where you're
getting this, Sam, but my sister and I are both loyal members of
the movement. Neither one of us would do anything to betray it."
"Then why was she meeting with Harris Templeton last night?"
Sam asks, leaning forward, his gaze sharpening. "Why did she
walk into her office building this morning prepared to launch
a virus in our computer system that would have completely
disabled us?"
Martin stares at him. "Where are you *getting* this stuff, Sam?
Some drug-induced accusations Sarah's come up with?"
"We have Meredith's meeting with Templeton on tape, Martin,"
Sam says evenly. "We have surveillance reports tracking your
movements and hers for the past several months. And yes, we have
Sarah's accusations that you manipulated her into looking guilty."
"I don't know what you think you have, Sam," Martin says heatedly,
leaning forward in his chair. "Or what your surveillance people think
they saw. But you can't believe in what Sarah says .... she's a traitor.
She's desperate! She'd say anything."
"So would you, apparently." Sam rolls his chair back from the
table and stands up, walking around the table and past Martin
toward the door to the testing room.
"What are you doing?" Martin demands, twisting around to watch
him.
"Taking you into custody," Sam replies, opening the door and standing
back to let Jason's four-man team in, the two lead men holding revolvers.
"On suspicion of treason."
~*~*~*~
"There," Ellen says with satisfaction, dumping the last bag of
groceries on Sloan's kitchen island. "That's everything, I think."
"What will we do with all this?" Trevor asks in awe, staring at
the bags scattered across the island and the kitchen counter.
"We'll make a dinner they'll never forget," Ellen vows, stripping
off her coat and tossing it on one of the chairs in front of the
fireplace. "Now, you get the whipping cream and put it in the
fridge right away." She begins rummaging through the bags,
blowing a curl of silvery hair out of her eye. "And I'll just find
the mushrooms .... they need to go in the fridge as well."
"What can we do?" Shane asks, poking his head around the
doorway to the new rooms.
"For now, just keep cleaning up in there," Ellen replies. "I
want it fixed up as much as possible by the time they get home."
Shane disappears back behind the doorway while Trevor opens
the door to the fridge, carefully storing the whipping cream.
"Here," Ellen holds out the bag of mushrooms. "You can put this in
as well, and this" -- she sets a paper-wrapped package of beef on the
counter, and a small brick of rich dark chocolate -- "and this." Trevor fills
the fridge as quickly as he can, Ellen piling groceries on the counter
just as quickly. "Oops," he gasps at one point, ducking down to
pluck Mischief out of the bottom shelf of the fridge.
"That one gets locked up in the bedroom if she's not good," Ellen
says darkly, shaking out the last of the grocery bags.
"With some of those cat toys you bought her?" Trevor
asks as he closes the fridge door, a small smile on his face,
and Ellen flushes with amused embarrassment. "You weren't
supposed to notice that," she says sternly, reaching down
to pat Mischief on the head as the kitten brushes up against
her. Smudge soon appears next to Mischief, butting her
head against Ellen's ankles, and even Puff wakes up from
her nap on Sloan's computer table and jumps down to peer
into an empty grocery bag that had fallen to the floor. "Hmm,"
Ellen says, staring down at the sudden grouping of kittens
at her feet. "I'm missing one."
"She's on the chair next to the door," Trevor says, pointing in
that direction, and Ellen looks up to find Shadow curled up
on top of Tom's spare coat, watching the commotion in the
kitchen with interest.
"All present and accounted for," Ellen says with a nod of
satisfaction. "All right, you feed the kittens, I'll start cutting up
the strawberries, and then we'll make the dessert first. The
berries will need to soak in the liqueur most of the day."
"How long do we have?" Trevor asks, reaching into one of
the cupboards for a tin of cat food.
"Ed says they should be tied up until at least 6." Ellen
digs out Sloan's cutting board and two knives and sets them
out on the kitchen island. "He's hoping to be here by 4 with
the things I asked him to buy."
"What can I do?"
"You," Ellen says, reaching for the large container of
strawberries she'd left out on the counter, "are going to
be the assistant chef."
Trevor glances up at her in the middle of spooning out
the cat food onto four separate plates. "But I don't know
anything about cooking," he objects.
"You can chop things, can't you?" she asks encouragingly,
removing the clear plastic packaging.
"I guess so," Trevor says uncertainly, bending down to place
the dishes on the floor. Shadow hops down off her chair
to join the group of kittens at his feet, quickly finding her dish
of food.
"Then you're halfway there." Ellen motions to Trevor to sit on
a kitchen stool across from her on the island. "Here," she says
comfortably, handing him the opened container of strawberries
and one of the knives. "I'll show you how to take the tops off the
strawberries, and while we work, you can tell me a little more
about what it's like to be you."
Trevor looks down at the strawberries and takes one out
gingerly, holding his knife in his other hand. "So tell me,"
Ellen says, reaching out to help him cut the green top off,
"can you really sense people on the other side of the door
before they knock?"
Trevor nods, setting the strawberry aside and reaching for
the next one, his face set with concentration.
"Fascinating," she breathes happily. "Tell me more."
~*~*~*~
"Did he say what he wants?" Roger Abbott asks, glancing at
Harris Templeton's aide as they stride down the main hallway
of the Council offices.
"Council business," Robert Tilton replies curtly.
"I wasn't aware that a meeting had been called for this morning."
Roger glances at his watch. "I've got a full day scheduled as it
is."
"There is no meeting." Tilton reaches the door to Harris
Templeton's office and stands back after opening it to let
Roger through. "Mr. Templeton wishes to meet with you privately."
Roger walks into the richly furnished office to find David Armstrong
waiting there for him, already seated in one of the two wing chairs
set out in front of Harris' large oak desk. Tilton disappears
through the doorway adjacent to Harris Templeton's desk, closing
the door behind him.
"David," Roger says cautiously, nodding his head as he takes his
seat in the other chair. "Tilton didn't say you'd be here."
"Harris asked me to attend," David replies briefly.
"Do you know what this is all about?"
David glances toward the door Tilton had used just as it opens
again and Harris walks through, Tilton following respectfully behind
him. "Any word on the Bakers?" Harris asks Tilton abruptly.
"None yet, sir. Neither one showed up for work this morning, and
they're not answering their cell phones."
"What about their house?"
"They weren't there, sir. I had a team check it out this morning."
Roger darts a questioning look at David as Harris takes a seat behind
his desk, dropping the set of files he carries on top of the gleaming
wood surface. "Keep searching for them," Harris instructs Tilton.
"Notify me as soon as they're found."
"Yes, sir." Tilton leaves the room, and Harris sorts the papers out
on his desk methodically, ignoring both Roger and David for the
moment. Reaching into one drawer, he pulls out his small tape
player and two audio tapes, placing them directly in front of him
before looking up at Roger.
"I've been presented with evidence that identifies you as
Tom Daniels' source of information on the Council," he says
bluntly.
Roger looks at him in shock. "What evidence?"
Harris inserts the first tape into the tape player, presses the play
button, and Tom Daniels' voice can be heard, speaking to Sam
Anderson. Roger listens in disbelief as Daniels refers to him as
his source. "It's a lie," he says flatly as Harris stops the tape.
"Someone made that tape up or doctored it in some way. I would
never work for a traitor like him."
"That conversation was picked up by a bug I had planted at
Whitney Labs," Harris points out. "Daniels had no idea he was
being overheard and no reason to lie."
"How can you be sure?" Roger demands. "He might have
discovered the bug and tried to mislead you."
Harris looks at him assessingly and then drops his gaze to the
tape recorder, ejecting the tape he'd played and inserting a
second one. "This tape was made in Marcus Adam's office,
*after* his men had swept the office for bugs. He believed he
was speaking in absolute secrecy."
He presses the play button and Marcus' voice fills the room,
as well as Sam Anderson's and Walter Attwood's. Roger's eyes
widen as he hears Marcus name him as Daniels' source, citing
information that he had allegedly passed on. The details were
incriminating .... the information Marcus spoke of could only
have been passed on by someone inside the Council. His mouth
opens in silent protest as both Walter and Sam describe
Roger's offer to infiltrate the movement as a calculated move
on his part to seem loyal to the Council, and his confrontation
with Marcus as a staged event. "It's not true!" he protests
vehemently as Harris stops the tape. "They're setting me up!"
"Why?" Harris asks evenly.
"Because I'm a threat to them," Roger insists. "Daniels distrusted
me on sight and saw how close I'd come to infiltrating the
movement. He must have decided I needed to be removed
from the Council entirely."
"And the information they spoke of?" Harris leans back in his
chair, his eyes hooded. "How did they know so much?"
"Maybe Daniels *does* have a source on the Council. Someone
who's been passing on information to him, and who he wants to
protect. Setting me up to look like his source would protect his
real one."
Harris looks at him thoughtfully. "It's possible," he concedes.
"It's the truth." Roger leans forward in his chair, his hands
gripping its arms tightly. "I would never risk the Council or its
cause in any way, Harris. My loyalty is complete."
"So you say." Harris glances over at David. "And yet David has
provided me with information that questions that loyalty, Roger.
Information that puts your actions in a new light, as well as those of
Charles and Judith Baker."
Roger glances at David warily. "What information?"
David meets his gaze silently.
"David has always been my eyes and ears out on the floor of the
Council offices," Harris says evenly. "I expect him to warn me
of any concerns he has, and in this case he came to me about a
series of meetings you held with the Bakers and about your plan
to capture Daniels."
Roger looks at him speechlessly.
"Now either you *are* Daniels' source, and you were,
as Marcus Adams says on that tape, going along with the
Bakers' plan in order to learn all the details and then warn
him. Or you really did conspire with them to capture
Daniels. Either way, your loyalty to the Council and to the
cause is indeed in question." Harris cocks his head, his gaze
challenging. "Which is it, Roger?"
~*~*~*~
The sound of footsteps echoing through the empty plant brings
Charles Baker's head up, and he stares fixedly into the darkness,
waiting for the approaching figures to emerge into the dim circle
of light that surrounds his cage. His senses pick up two people
.... one human and one dominant. He can hear a rustle of silk as
Judith draws herself up into a sitting position, but he doesn't
glance her way as he concentrates.
The human is Sloan Parker, her hair curling in a fiery halo around
her head as she steps into the light. The dominant, carrying a small
black bag, is Tom Daniels.
"I trust you know where you are?" Tom asks quietly.
Charles nods wordlessly.
"And why you're here?"
"Revenge," Charles says flatly.
Tom shakes his head. "That's your way. Not mine."
"Then what?" Judith speaks up, her voice cool and controlled.
Despite a night spent in the cage, she still holds herself as though
she is the one in charge. "What do you want from us?"
"Nothing." Tom glances over at her. "Not any more. There was
a time when I hoped you'd leave Shane and Trevor alone, but that
time has passed."
"Then this is some staged event to make us feel the extent of
your power?" Judith asks dispassionately.
"This," Tom says, gesturing with his free hand at the two cages,
"is a small taste of what your son experienced. The son your
husband left here, naked, trapped in a cage, and surrounded
by enemies."
Judith meets his gaze steadily. "A miscalculation on my
husband's part," she allows.
Tom raises his brow questioningly. "Then you wouldn't have left
Trevor here?"
"I wouldn't have dealt with humans," she counters, her gaze
flickering over to Sloan for a second. "Nothing good can come
from working with an inferior species. They only weaken us, as
you have surely discovered."
Tom smiles faintly. "I hadn't noticed."
Judith smiles back, her gaze watchful. "It would seem to me
that you're the prime example of the dangers of mingling with them.
You've lost your will, your purpose. You allow a human to
determine your future." This time she doesn't even glance at
Sloan. "That's why we're determined to get our sons back
before you contaminate them any further."
Tom's smile widens fractionally, and he nods his head
respectfully. "You would have made a good chameleon, Mrs.
Baker. You automatically attack, no matter how weak your
own position is."
"I'm merely stating facts, Mr. Daniels."
"The facts are," Tom says gently, "that you're in there and we're
out here."
Judith gives a small shrug. "For now, until you let us out. And
you will .... you haven't got the nerve to kill us, or the strength of will
to hold us. Not when it would expose you to retaliation by the Council."
"She's right," Charles speaks up, gripping the bars of his cage
with his hands. "We're both powerful people. The Council won't
let this go unanswered. You have no options, Daniels .... no way
out. You've stepped over the line this time."
Tom looks at Charles calmly. "The way you did when you sent a
Council team to attack us?"
"We were fighting for the survival of our children," Charles says
tightly. "We did what had to be done."
"Just as we are." Tom sets the black bag down on the floor and
reaches inside to produce three videotapes, holding them up for
Charles and Judith to see. "These," he says quietly, "are what
will ensure your sons' survival."
More footsteps sound in the shadows and two of Jason's men
appear, carrying a small table between them, a t.v. and a vcr set
on top. Setting the table down, one quickly connects the power
cords at the back of the two machines to a long extension cord
and disappears again into the shadows as he plugs it in to a far
wall. The other melts back into the blackness as well, Charles
and Judith barely aware of him as they watch Tom warily.
Tom turns on the t.v. and inserts the first tape in the vcr, pressing
the play button without saying a word. Shots of Charles flickers
on the screen, showing him entering and leaving the plant. His
entrance is obviously an escorted one with the Limo Lady's
guards on either side of him, but he clearly leaves a free man.
Charles shifts restlessly in his cage, but Judith remains motionless,
her gaze moving from the screen to Tom's calm face.
As the tape ends, Tom ejects it from the machine and inserts
a second tape, the sound of his movements echoing loudly in the
deserted plant. Pressing the play button, he steps back and Drew
Richards appears on the screen, dressed in a grey jumpsuit, his
shoulder and arm bound in a sling. Tom's voice sounds off-camera.
"Tell me about Charles Baker."
Charles darts a wary glance at Judith, but she ignores him, her
attention now completely focused on the screen.
"What do you want to know?" Richards asks disinterestedly,
leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused just to the left of lens
of the camera.
"What was the deal you made with him?"
Richards shrugs, and winces as the movement pulls his injured
collarbone. "He wanted you captured and was willing to work with
us to do it. He knew you'd risk your life to help his son
Trevor, so he had the boy call you and helped us set up an ambush."
"It failed, though, didn't it?"
Richards smiles, his eyes hard. "It did, and Baker was fit to be tied."
"Why?"
"I took the boy as bait .... the ambush may have failed, but I was
convinced I could still use him to lure you in."
"How did Baker react to that?"
"He was furious. My associate brought him to the plant, showed him
the boy in the cage, and demanded his cooperation. Baker wouldn't
at first .... he made the expected speech about being prepared to
sacrifice his son for the cause .... but when my associate warned
him she'd expose him to the Council for dealing with humans, he
shut up quickly enough."
"To your knowledge, did he go back to the Council to warn them
what was happening?"
Richards shakes his head. "I put surveillance on him the minute we
started dealing with him. We bugged his house, his office .... we
even attached a bug to the briefcase he took with him to the Council
offices the next day. He didn't tell a soul, other than his wife."
"What were your plans for him once he had his son back?" Tom's
voice asks.
Richards shrugs again, more carefully this time. "I was prepared to
use him whenever I needed information on what the Council was
planning. I had enough on him to force him to cooperate and he
knew it."
The tape flickers to black, and Tom ejects it from the machine,
inserting the third tape in its place. As he activates the tape, a
man dressed in black appears on the screen, his face pale and
weary. He too is looking at someone just offscreen.
"Who ordered the attack on Sloan Parker's apartment last night?"
Jason Stuart's voice asks.
"Roger Abbott," the man replies, sitting quietly in his chair, his arms
resting on the bare table in front of him.
"Anyone else?"
"Charles and Judith Baker."
Tom glances over at Judith, whose mouth tightens slightly as she
watches the man on the screen.
"Did you see them personally order the attack?" Jason Stuart
asks.
The man shakes his head briefly. "That's not the way it works.
We got our orders from our commander, who got them directly
from Abbott."
"Then how do you know the Bakers were involved?"
"Abbott told him so. The commander was concerned about the
possibility of our team being punished for the attack once the
Head of the Council found out about it. Abbott assured him that
the attack had been authorized both by him and by the Bakers,
and that between them they had enough power to convince the
Head that the attack had been warranted."
"Then you knew that the Head of the Council had issued an
edict that Tom Daniels was to be left alone for now?"
"Yes."
"Why did you accept the mission?"
The man glances away for a moment, the first restless movement
he'd made since the tape started. "We believed that Tom Daniels
had to be stopped."
"What were Abbott's exact orders?"
"We were to capture Daniels if we could, or kill him if it was
the only way to get past him. We were to grab both boys after
Daniels was dealt with."
"What were you to do if you were captured?"
"We were given cyanide capsules."
"You were to kill yourselves?"
The man nods briefly. "We were told that Abbott couldn't take
the risk of us talking."
"He didn't want you to reveal any classified information under
questioning."
"Yes."
"Did it occur to you that he also didn't want you to divulge his
part in the attack, or the Bakers'?"
The man looks directly into the camera. "Yes," he say flatly.
The picture flickers to black and Tom reaches over to stop the
tape, ejecting it from the machine. "As I said," Tom says, lifting all
three tapes in his hand, "these will ensure your sons' survival far
better than you could."
Judith stares at him coolly. "Blackmail, Mr. Daniels? You threaten
to expose us if we don't leave you alone?"
"I think you'd agree that Harris Templeton would find these
interesting."
"So you *are* threatening us."
Tom shakes his head, stepping forward to set the three tapes
down on the cement floor, just out of reach of either cage. "I'm
giving you a choice, Mrs. Baker," he replies, straightening up and
pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "I can call Harris Templeton
to let him know where to find you, and leave all this evidence here for
him to find as well. Or I can hand you over to Marcus Adams and
leave your fate to him to decide. There's no guarantee either way
that you'll survive, but I'd say your odds are better with Marcus."
"You won't do either one," Judith says confidently. "You care too
much about our sons to risk our lives."
"I care too much about them not to," he corrects her. "Which is it
going to be, Mrs. Baker?"
She raises an elegant eyebrow and stares him down, her lips
curved in a cool smile.
Dialing in a set of numbers, Tom fixes his gaze on Judith's as he
waits for the person on the other end to pick up. At the sound
of a male voice, he smiles back faintly at Judith. "Harris Templeton?
This is Tom Daniels speaking."
~*~*~*~
The assembled staff of Marcus' lab falls silent as Sarah enters
the large conference room where they'd gathered, and Sarah can
sense their distrust as they watch her mount the small platform
set at one end, Marcus and Sam at her side. Searching the crowd,
she spots Peter Samuels sitting in one of the chairs near the front,
looking up at her with a half-smile, and Ed sitting just behind him,
Walter Attwood at his side. As their eyes meet, Ed gives her an
encouraging nod and she straightens imperceptibly, feeling the
strength of his support.
"I've brought you here to explain the events of the past two days,"
Marcus begins, looking out over the crowd, "and to clear Sarah
Fielding's name."
His words spark a murmur of surprise that washes over the room,
and he holds up a hand to silence them. "You all know
that Sarah's been in custody on suspicion of plotting
against us with the Council. What you don't know is that we'd
become convinced within hours of detaining her that the evidence
against her had been deliberately planted by the real traitors."
Marcus glances down at Walter and Ed. "With the help of Walter
Attwood and Ed Tate, we were able to identify who those traitors
were and set a trap for them. We kept Sarah in custody, announced
her guilt to all of you, and waited to see what our suspects would
do, keeping them under visual and audio surveillance. They
stepped into that trap last night, giving us the evidence we needed,
and both were taken into custody this morning."
Nodding at Sam, Marcus continues, "Sam Anderson and Tom
Daniels will be in charge of their interrogation. We're not releasing
the names of the people we've detained until the interrogations are
complete. My expectation is that both will be charged with
treason, but I won't make any final decisions until we've gathered
all the information we need. We also need to speak to their
colleagues and family."
Marcus takes a deep breath, looking out over his assembled staff.
"I regretted the fact that we misled you, but it was necessary. Our
plan wouldn't have succeeded if we hadn't convinced you that we
believed Sarah to be the traitor. I also regret very deeply that Sarah
wasn't told what was happening until late yesterday, and that she
was kept in custody as long as she was." Turning to her, he gives
her a small smile of apology. "She has been the victim of two people's
attempts to destroy us all, and of our own suspicions when we
became aware that there was a traitor in our midst. She is one
of the best we have in this movement, and I trust her implicitly."
Sarah flushes slightly, uncomfortable with his praise. But the
terrible tension that has held her in its grip since the moment they
had put her in that room finally begins to ease, and she's able to
face the curious scrutiny of those looking up at her with equanimity.
Hesitating, Marcus glances past Sarah at Sam and then back at the
people crowded into the conference room. "This has been a difficult
time for us all. Loyalties have been tested, and we've all, I know,
caught ourselves questioning the true natures of people we've worked
with every day. My hope is that we'll emerge from this stronger and
more committed to work for peace and against the goals of the Council.
But it will take time. All I ask you to do now is accept my assurances
that we are doing everything we can to limit the damage that has been
done to our movement .... and to trust in each other.
"And now," he concludes, checking his watch, "the best thing that we
can all do is get back to work. I'll meet with you again tomorrow
to update you on our investigation .... in the meantime, you're free
to return to your offices."
The noise level in the room suddenly rises as the crowd begins to
disperse, and many glance at Sarah as they go, most relieved and
accepting but some still doubtful. "Don't let them worry
you," Sam says in a low voice, glancing down at her. "It's been a
tough few days .... it's going to take some longer than others to
accept what's happened."
"There will always be doubts about me," Sarah says quietly.
"You and I both know that."
"There will," he agrees, watching as the crowd slowly filters out
of the room. "But you've never let that stop you before."
"No," she says, taking a deep breath, her heart lifting at the sight
of Ed walking toward her, his warm brown eyes resting on hers.
"I haven't, have I?"
~*~*~*~
"What I did, I did for the cause," Roger says emphatically. "Tom
Daniels was a risk we had to eliminate."
"So you say that you entered into the arrangement with the Bakers
to work with them to capture Daniels," Harris concludes, "and not
to report back to him on what they were planning."
"Yes," Roger vows, tightening his grip on the arms of his chair.
"Then you're not a spy," Harris observes caustically. "You're just
disloyal."
Roger turns a dull red and darts a glance at David. "I acted in the
belief that I was protecting us all from a deadly threat," he insists.
"I'd seen the way Daniels influenced Marcus Adams and Sam
Anderson .... I knew that if he wasn't stopped, he would take over
control of the peace movement and turn it from a marginal group
into a powerful enemy. I couldn't let that happen."
"*You* couldn't let that happen." Harris raises his brow questioningly.
"Aren't you getting a little above yourself, Roger?"
Roger's flush deepens. "I felt responsible for failing to infiltrate
the movement. I missed the chance to stop them .... I felt it was up
to me to do it another way."
"And so you defied the Head and sent good men to their deaths,"
Harris says coldly. "That is, if I accept your claim that you're not
a spy for Tom Daniels, and I'm still not convinced of that."
Harris' desk phone rings before Roger can defend himself and
Harris reaches for it, his eyes never leaving Roger's.
"Harris Templeton?" the voice on the other end of the line says.
"This is Tom Daniels speaking."
"Mr. Daniels." Harris leans back in his chair, watching as Roger
jerks forward in his chair involuntarily, his gaze now fixed on the
phone in Harris' hand. "What a surprise to hear your voice," he
says smoothly.
"I doubt it," Tom responds equably, speaking into his own cell phone
as he watches the faces of Charles and Judith Baker. "With
the events of the past twenty-four hours, I assume you expected
to hear from me sooner or later."
"What can I do for you?"
"It's what I can do for you." Tom walks slowly toward Judith's
cage, staying just out of reach. She looks up at him silently,
her cool smile fading. "I have two people here who I
believe you've been looking for."
"The Bakers."
"Yes." Judith's gaze flickers, and Tom can hear Charles shift
restlessly in his cage.
"Are you proposing a trade?" Harris asks. "Your informant for
my people?"
"My informant?"
"Roger Abbott, Mr. Daniels." Harris watches Roger's face tighten.
"He's sitting here in front of me, trying to explain the evidence
we've amassed against him."
"I see." Tom shrugs slightly, keeping his voice casual. "No, not a
trade. Abbott is of no further use to me, obviously. Consider this
more in light of a gift."
Harris' eyes narrow. "And why would you give me a gift?"
"To rid myself of them," Tom says evenly. "They've become a
problem for me and for you. I'm giving you the chance to be the
one to deal with them."
"Where are they?"
"At the old Thompson's Water Storage plant in Oakdale." Tom
watches Charles glance at Judith uneasily. "You'll find them
waiting for you, along with some videotapes you might find interesting."
"Videotapes?"
"Of the Bakers' recent activities," Tom confirms. "It might cast new
light on their loyalties."
"I see." Harris stares at Roger, his eyes narrowing. "Any last words
for your informant?"
"No," Tom says dismissively. "I do have one last message for you,
though, Mr. Templeton."
"And that would be?"
"Don't expect to meet with Meredith Donovan tonight. Or any
other night. Her plans have changed."
Harris' expression stills as he considers Tom's words. "I don't
understand," he says finally.
"I think you do," Tom counters, and ends the call, looking up as he
does to see Sloan standing at the edge of the light, watching him.
As their eyes meet, she nods at him, her expression calm and
accepting.
"Perhaps now you understand how serious I am," he says, turning to
Judith. "His men should be here soon .... either I leave you here for
them to find, or you surrender yourself to the movement."
"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Daniels," Judith says coolly, her poise
back in place. "As a threat, that phone call fell far short of what I'd
expected."
"Then you have no fears of what the Council would do to you?"
"None." Judith nods her head in the direction of the three videotapes
on the floor in front of her cage. "Everything on those tapes can be
explained, despite what my husband thinks. And it will be, with
the connections we have on the Council to back us up."
"Connections that include Roger Abbott?"
"Yes."
Tom walks over to her cage, lowering himself gracefully to crouch
before her. "Roger Abbott won't be able to help you, Mrs. Baker," he
says gently.
"And why not?"
"Because he's been my contact on the Council for months now,
and it would seem that Harris Templeton has found out."
Judith narrows her eyes speculatively. "I don't believe you."
"It's true." Tom cocks his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Why
do you think your attack on our apartment failed? Roger called me
in advance to warn me."
"Why would you tell me this?"
Tom shrugs lightly. "Now that Templeton knows the truth, Roger
is of no further use to me. Just as he is of no further use to you."
"He's bluffing," Charles says tensely. "Roger wouldn't betray us,
and that couldn't have been Harris on the other line. If it had been,
Daniels wouldn't still be here .... he'd know Harris would send a
team here immediately."
Tom turns on his heels to survey Charles dispassionately. "I have
no need to bluff, Charles. I have you, one way or the other. But you're
right about one thing .... Harris' men *are* on the way. The question
is whether you'll be here when they arrive."
"Oh, we will be," Judith says evenly. "We're staying here. The
Council won't turn its back on us, no matter what evidence you
leave here with us. All we need is the chance to explain our
actions to Harris and the Council."
Tom looks back at her, his eyebrow raised. "Do you really think you
can do that? You willfully defied the Head's edict. Your husband made
deals with humans. At best, the Council will ship you off for re-education
.... your mind will be wiped clean of any memory of your sons, and you'll
be reduced to the level of a drone worker. What's more likely is that
they'll execute you as a traitor. At least with Marcus Adams, you have
a chance of living with your memories intact."
"A chance?" Charles asks in disbelief. "With you whispering
in his ear? You want our sons, and you're willing to have us killed to
keep them!"
"I'm willing to try to spare your lives, against my better instincts," Tom
says, his voice hardening as he turns to face him. "If it were up to me,
I'd hand you over and let the Council deal with you."
"Then why?" Charles demands. "Why give us a choice?"
"Because I don't want Shane or Trevor to ever feel that they were
responsible for your deaths," Tom says flatly. "This way they'll know
that you had a chance to save yourselves."
"You're afraid they'll blame you," Judith says with dawning
realization. "You're afraid they'll hate you for it."
"I'm afraid they'll blame themselves," Tom corrects her, looking
down to check his watch. "Time's up, Mrs. Baker .... are you sure
you want to take your chances with Harris and the Council?"
"What if we don't choose at all?" she asks him challengingly.
"What if we refuse? What will you do then?"
"Sloan and I will leave you here for Harris' men to find," Tom
says simply. "Don't mistake this offer of mine. It's not compassion
for you or a willingness to forgive and forget. It's a bargain, pure and
simple, made for your sons' sakes. But it's not negotiable, and it's
not open-ended. You choose now or I choose for you."
Judith stares at him assessingly, sensing his determination.
"I choose the Council," she says finally. "As all true members of
our species would."
"Judith!" Charles protests, gripping the bars of his cage.
"You speak for both of you?" Tom asks speculatively, glancing
over at Charles.
"Yes," Judith says flatly, glancing over at Charles warningly. "We
won't put our fate in the hands of traitors."
"So be it." Standing up, Tom walks over to Charles' cage and
stares down at him. "Take your clothes off," he says quietly.
"What?" Charles blinks up at him.
"I want you to take your clothes off. All of them."
"I don't understand," Charles says slowly, gripping the bars more
tightly.
"When I said I wanted you to get a taste of what Trevor went
through here, I meant it." Tom looks down at him steadily. "Take
them off. Now."
Charles reaches for his tie and then hesitates, glancing over at
Judith and at Sloan's watching figure.
"What is this?" Judith demands. "We reject your offer and so you
set out to degrade us?"
"Would you rather I did it for you?" Tom asks softly, ignoring
Judith's protest.
Charles looks back up at him, seeing the pitiless determination
in his eyes, and shakes his head, slowly removing his tie and jacket.
As he strips off the rest of his clothing, the rustling of the fabric is
the only sound in the room. Finally, his clothes set aside, he kneels
before Tom in his cage, his face etched with humiliation.
"Give them to me," Tom orders, reaching out his hand.
Charles hesitates, his mouth dropping open in silent protest, and then
he gathers his clothes together and pushes them in between the iron
bars, his fingers brushing Tom's. Tom backs up to set them down on
the floor beside the videotapes and then straightens up to look at
Charles.
"When I found Trevor here," Tom says quietly, "Drew Richards hurt him
as a way of challenging me." Circling the cage, he moves to stand just
behind Charles and reaches his hand out to grip Charles' right
shoulder. Charles jumps at the sudden contact, his eyes widening. "His
shoulder was so badly bruised that you could still see Richards'
fingerprints on his skin days later." Tom flexes his fingers and tightens
his hold on Charles, his fingers biting deep into Charles' flesh. "I broke
Richards' collarbone for that."
Charles catches his breath, waiting to hear his own bone snap.
"He won't do it," Judith tells Charles firmly. "Don't listen to him."
"Imagine what your son went through while he was in this cage,"
Tom says softly, keeping the pressure steady. "Imagine the pain
and the terror he felt. And then imagine what it must have been like
for him when you just walked away and left him here."
Tom increases the pressure of his grip until Charles gasps at the
pain, doubling over. Looking up, Tom stares at Judith challengingly,
and then he releases Charles so suddenly that Charles loses his
balance, tipping forward with a moan and clutching his shoulder.
"It's not broken," Tom says calmly. "Just bruised. As I said, I wanted
your husband to experience everything your son did, including the
marks on his shoulder and the pain."
"You didn't have the nerve to do more," she says flatly.
"I didn't need to," Tom answers contemptuously, glancing down
at Charles' huddled figure before standing up and walking around
to face the two cages. Reaching out to Sloan, he waits as she
steps out of the shadows and then takes his hand in hers.
"Your sons will be safe, no matter what happens," he says,
looking one last time at Charles and Judith as he begins to back
away. "If that means anything to you."
"You can't do this!" Charles protests. "You can't just leave us here
like this .... they'll kill us!"
"You made your choice," Tom says flatly, and turns to leave,
Sloan walking with him into the darkness of the plant, heading
for the exit.
"We'll be back," Judith calls out harshly, her smooth facade splintering
at last. "Harris and the Council will understand, and we *will* be back
to rescue our sons from you. And when we do, we'll tell them what
you did here today and they'll never forgive you. We're their parents
.... their flesh and blood. They'll hate you for putting us at risk like
this."
Tom slows his pace slightly, his hand tightening on Sloan's, and
she tugs him to a stop. "Let me," she says softly, and turns to walk
back to Judith's cage, leaving Tom in the shadows.
"Shane knows we're here, Mrs. Baker." Sloan lowers herself to
a crouch to face Judith in the same way that Tom had. "He's agreed
to this. Trevor will know when he's ready, and he'll understand and
forgive because he'll know we did this for him, because we love him."
"Love," Judith echoes contemptuously. "You'll make him weak and useless,
just like you've made *him* weak." With a flicker of her eyes, she indicates
Tom's waiting figure, standing in the darkness.
"I'll make Trevor feel safe and cherished and valued for who he is, not for
what he can do for me," Sloan responds. "I'll make them both feel that
way, and I'll fight to my last breath to give them the lives they deserve.
Can you say the same?"
"They were meant to be soldiers, fighting for a cause," Judith says
fiercely. "That is their one and only value to me, and I'd die to see them
achieve it."
Sloan looks at her silently and then rises to her feet. "I'd pity you,"
she says quietly, "if I hadn't seen firsthand the damage you've done
to those boys."
Turning her back, she walks into the shadows to join Tom, hearing the
rustle of Judith's silk suit as the woman turns to watch her go. "They'll
never forgive you," Judith insists, her voice rising. "They're *my* sons ....
one day they'll come to realize where their loyalties lie and they'll come
back to us, full of contempt for you and everything you stand for."
Tom takes Sloan's hand in his once again and walks with her to the exit,
Judith's voice echoing behind them as they go.
"Daniels!" Charles cries out as they reach the door and Tom opens it
to let the sunlight flood in. "You can't leave us here like this!" Charles
rattles the bars of his cage desperately. "Come back!"
Tom steps back to let Sloan through first, and she lifts her face to
the noon-day sun as he shuts the door behind him, closing it
on Charles' frantic voice with a clang.
~*~*~*~
"So is this going to be a good cop/bad cop thing?" Martin asks
patiently, looking up at Sam as he enters the small interrogation
room. "First you start with the easier questions, and then Tom
Daniels takes over?"
Sam raises an eyebrow as he pulls out a chair across the metal
table from Martin. "Good cop/bad cop?"
"It's a human term," Martin explains, watching Sam sit down.
"You really have immersed yourself in human culture," Sam observes
mildly.
"It comes with the territory," Martin responds. "I wasn't kept safe
inside the movement the way you were, Sam. My parents were among
the ones who integrated .... if I wanted to fit in, I had to learn to
act like a human, think like a human .... "
"Be like a human?"
Martin looks at him carefully. "Only on the outside," he says slowly.
"I never forgot who I was."
Sam cocks his head, leaning back in his chair. "Now that surprises
me. It seems to me that's exactly what you did when you turned
against us."
"I *didn't* turn against you, Sam."
"So you still say you're innocent?"
"Absolutely."
"Will Meredith say the same thing?"
"I assume she already has." Martin glances at the closed door.
"Where is she, Sam? I want to see her."
"She's just down the hall, and you'll see her after you've answered
all of my questions."
"She's told you that this is all a mistake, hasn't she? That Sarah
Fielding's somehow tricked you into thinking that we're the traitors
when she's the one who's betrayed you?" Martin leans forward in
his chair, looking at Sam earnestly. "Sarah's the one you collected
all that evidence on, Sam .... remember? *She's* the one with the
questionable background."
"You keep going back to that, don't you, Martin?" Sam folds his
arms across his chest, watching Martin impassively. "You never let
anyone forget about Sarah's birth classification."
"Someone has to," Martin points out. "You let her into secure
rooms, let her work on highly classified projects, and you never
stopped to think of the danger of elevating a fourth that far up the
ladder."
"I only ask," Sam continues, as though Martin hadn't spoken, "because
it's such an unusual attitude for a member of the movement to take.
I can understand a member of the Council or of the general
population believing in birth classifications, but not a member of
the peace movement. Marcus has been firm in rejecting such
prejudice."
"I believe in the rights of fourths to achieve what they can, just as
he does, Sam," Martin insists. "I do. But we can't ignore the
inherent dangers every fourth faces. They can lose control.
They can buckle under pressure, or the weaker part of their natures
can take over. All I'm saying is that Sarah is a risk .... she's
been one since the day she got here."
"And yet you were the one who recommended her as your partner
in working as liaison with Walter Attwood's lab," Sam points out.
"I was," Martin admits. "I was trying to keep an open mind and follow
Marcus' example. But I was determined to keep an eye on her and
monitor her progress."
"Or you were putting her in place as part of your plan to frame
her," Sam counters.
"Sam .... " Martin protests, but Sam cuts him off with a movement of
his hand. "Let's set aside the whole question of Sarah's birth
classification for now," he suggests. "Instead, you can tell me what
you were doing in Walter's office two mornings ago."
Martin blinks at the sudden change in topic. "What do you mean?"
"You were seen in Walter's office two mornings ago, bending
under his desk. I'm asking you what you were doing there."
Martin frowns. "Retrieving a file I'd left behind. Why?"
"Marcus told you about the bugs we found in Walter's lab and in
ours. Would it surprise you to know that one of them was found
inserted into the power outlet under his desk the same day that
you were there?"
"If there was one under his desk, I didn't put it there." Martin
narrows his eyes in thought. "I remember seeing Sarah there ....
I assume she put the bugs there that morning after I left. There
was no one else around .... it would have been the perfect
opportunity for her."
Sam nods again slowly. "Speaking of Sarah, why did you break
into her house a few days ago?"
"What?" Martin asks blankly, lost again by Sam's sudden switch
of topic.
"You were seen entering her house with a package under your
arm and leaving a short time later with no package. Sarah denies
ever giving you a key, and it was shortly after your visit that we
entered her house and found an unused listening bug hidden
behind a bookcase in her bedroom." Sam tilts his head questioningly.
"What were you doing there, Martin?"
"Sam, I don't know where you're getting your information, but
I've never been in Sarah's house." Martin looks at him searchingly.
"What's going on here? Who's telling you these things?"
"Just answer the questions, Martin." Sam rises out of his chair
and paces the length of his side of the room, his arms still folded
over his chest. "Why all the meetings with Meredith at your house
at night?"
Martin stares up at him in bewilderment. "We're brother and
sister, Sam. Why shouldn't we meet?"
"Because suddenly there was a pattern to those meetings,
almost as if you were planning something. We didn't think it
was social .... according to the people we've questioned, you
two aren't so much brother and sister or friends as you are
a leader and a follower." Sam glances over at him. "She tells
you what to do, and you obey."
"I was wrong," Martin says, dropping his gaze to the table in
front of him. "It's going to be bad cop/bad cop, isn't it?"
"So," Sam says, "you suddenly started meeting at your house
every Monday and Thursday night, always later in the evening
after she'd made her trip out of town to meet her contact, Harris
Templeton. We're assuming she's the one who thought
this all up and that she's the one in charge. You carried out
her orders, like placing the bugs in Walter Attwood's lab and
ours." Sam looks at him intently. "Is that what happened,
Martin? She came to you with a plan, and you agreed to help
her?"
Martin stays silent, his eyes fixed firmly on the dull surface of
the table.
"Did you even know the name of the person she was dealing with?
Or didn't she trust you with that much?" Sam approaches the table
and rests his hands on its surface, looking down at Martin. "You
were handy, you had the charm to fool us all, and she could use
you to get what she wanted."
Martin doesn't respond, but Sam can sense his tension grow.
"What was she going to do with you when this was all over
and the movement was wiped out, Martin? Recommend you for a
low-level job with the Council? Get her contact to bury you away
somewhere in some branch office where you couldn't take any
of the credit for what the two of you had done? From what I've
heard of Meredith, she doesn't strike me as the type to want to
share power or recognition with you."
"She's not like that!" Martin insists, lifting his head to glare at
Sam. "She respects me!"
"Enough to share the glory when the Council rewards you for
destroying us?"
Martin lapses into a stubborn silence, staring back down at the
the table.
"Tell me your part in this, Martin," Sam says, softening his voice
as he takes a seat again in his chair. "Help me understand what
happened."
"*Nothing* happened," Martin insists in a low voice. "I keep telling
you that, but you won't listen .... you just keep hurling accusations
at me."
"Okay," Sam responds calmly. "I'll listen. Explain all the meetings
between you and Meredith, like the one last night. What would you
do when you were together?"
"We'd just talk," Martin says tensely. "We'd discuss each
other's work, come up with suggestions to help each other."
"Where did Meredith go when she left your house last night?"
"Home," Martin says emphatically. "I know you think she met
this person you keep talking about, but you're wrong."
"You're lying, Martin," Sam says evenly. "You're trying to mask it,
but you're not doing a very good job."
"I don't care what you sense, Sam," Martin protests. "Maybe it's
all the tension of trying to defend myself! I tell you, I'm telling you
the truth! She went home."
"The truth *is* that your sister met Harris Templeton last night
after leaving your place, just like she met him all those other nights.
Only last night, we got that meeting on tape. We know about the
plan you had to frame Sarah, and we know about the virus Meredith
agreed to plant in our computer system today."
"Sam .... "
"We also know about the computer setup you have at your house."
"Everyone has computers at home these days, Sam," Martin
protests.
"Not ones that record conversations picked up by the bugs at
our lab and at Walter's." Sam watches as Martin goes still,
his expression suddenly wary. "You'd forgotten about that, hadn't
you?" Sam asks wryly. "Jason had a team search your house as
soon as you left this morning and found active files open in both
computers logging everything the bugs recorded. The team is still
there, searching through your compressed files to see how much
intelligence you've gathered on us."
Martin looks at him silently, his face tight with tension.
"So, Martin," Sam says, "do you want to change your story?"
~*~*~*~
"Shane?"
Shane glances away from the connecting doorway to Sloan and
Tom's apartment to find Ellen staring at him with concern, the
lamp she holds in her hand forgotten for the moment. "Did you
say something?" he asks distractedly.
"I was just asking you about the chair," she explains,
gesturing with the lamp at Sloan's big chair, now tucked into
a corner of Shane and Trevor's new living space. "I wondered
what you thought of it there."
"It looks nice." He glances back at the doorway again. "Did you
hear the phone ring?"
"No." She frowns with concern. "Are you expecting someone to
call?"
"Tom said he would." Shane shakes his head a little, trying
to clear the worry out of his mind. "Did you want me to put that
lamp somewhere?"
"Davey can do it," she says, handing the lamp to her son. "Just set
it there on that little table next to the chair, and we'll see how it looks."
Stepping back, she watches Davey plug the lamp in and turn it on.
"There," she says, studying the little grouping of furniture critically.
"What do you think?"
Before Shane can answer, the phone rings and he jerks his head
back toward the open doorway in an instant. "Shane!" Trevor calls
out from the kitchen a second or two later. "It's Tom .... he wants
to talk to you."
Shane flashes a look at Ellen, who grins at him a little,
shaking her head. "Don't tell me," she says with amusement.
"You know when the phone's going to ring before it does?"
"Not usually," he says, flushing a little.
"Here." Trevor arrives in the room at a rush, handing the phone
to Shane. "Is everything okay?"
"It's fine, Trev," Shane says reassuringly. "Tom just wants to talk
to me about something."
"What?" Trevor looks at him uncertainly. "Is something going
on?"
"Trevor, honey, why don't you let Shane talk to Tom, and then
he can tell you all about it later?" Ellen suggests, reaching out to
smooth back his hair. "We can go in the kitchen and see how
dinner's coming, and Davey can come with us to give Shane a
little privacy." Herding a reluctant Trevor out of the room, with
Davey following behind, she turns back at the doorway to look at
Shane. "I hope it's good news, whatever it is," she says quietly.
Shane looks at her in confusion, and she smiles at him encouragingly.
"Trevor's right to be concerned, Shane .... you've been worried about
something all day, even though you've tried to hide it."
"I'm sorry," he says automatically.
"Don't be .... it's only natural to worry with everything you've been
dealing with." Ellen nods at the phone. "Now talk to Tom and see what
he has to say, and then come have milk and cookies with us in the
kitchen."
Shane nods silently and waits until she leaves the room before turning
back toward the large chair and lifting the phone to his ear. "Tom?"
"We've just come from the plant." Tom's voice sounds tired but calm.
"What happened?"
"They wouldn't agree to surrender to Marcus." Tom pauses for
a moment. "I'm sorry, Shane. I tried to convince them that they
had a better chance with him, but they didn't believe me."
Shane drops into the chair, the phone clutched in his hand.
"I didn't think it would work," he says slowly. "I hoped it would,
but I know them. I know how they think."
"They believe in the Council," Tom says simply. "Your mother
is convinced that Harris Templeton and the Council members
will listen to her .... that she can make them understand that
what she's done,she's done for you and Trevor and for the cause."
"And if she can't?"
"She says she'd rather die than deal with traitors."
Shane rests his head back against the chair, staring up at the
ceiling. "What about my father?"
Tom hesitates. "He knows they don't have a chance, but he
left it to your mother to decide."
"What happens now?"
"Templeton's men were due to arrive just minutes after
we left. Your parents may already be back at the Council
offices."
"Will there be a trial?"
"Probably."
Shane bites his lip. "My father's right. They don't have a chance,
do they?"
"I don't think so, Shane," Tom says quietly. "There *is* the possibility
of re-education, but I doubt it will be an option. Harris will want to
make an example of them."
Shane closes his eyes. "We had to do this .... it was the only
way to stop them. So why do I feel so bad about it?"
"You feel badly because they're your parents," Tom says gently.
"I felt badly when my mother turned on me. We're not machines,
Shane. We may not be as familiar with emotions as humans are
or even be willing to admit at times that we have them, but we *do*
feel things."
"Sometimes I wish we didn't," Shane confesses.
"It would make life easier," Tom agrees. "But would you want to
go back to the way you were before you began questioning things?"
Shane thinks of his parents' house, of the restrictions,
the secrecy, and the unrelenting demands of his mother, and
shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't." He smoothes his hand over
the arm of the chair. "Where are you?"
"In the parking lot at Marcus' lab. We're just about to go in.
Do you want us to come home?"
"No," Shane reassures him. "We're fine here .... Mrs. P's got
Trevor busy in the kitchen, and Davey and I are still working in
the new rooms."
"Hold on a minute," Tom says, and Shane can hear the phone
being shifted. "Shane?" Sloan asks, coming on the line. "Are
you all right?"
"I'm fine .... really." Shane feels better just hearing her voice.
"Thanks for trying. With my parents, I mean."
"I'm just sorry it didn't work out."
"Don't be," Shane says quietly. "It was their choice to make,
and they made it."
"I need to meet with Walter and Ed for a while, but I'll come
home early .... we can talk more then."
"No!" Shane sits bolt upright in the chair, clutching the phone
tightly. "I mean .... there's no need for you to rush through your
meetings. I'm okay."
"Are you sure?" Sloan asks uncertainly. "If I wait for Tom, we could
be here until at least 6. I don't like leaving you alone for that long,
not after what's happened."
"You're not," Shane says hastily. "Mrs. P's got milk and cookies
waiting for me, and from the look of it, she's going to be fussing
over me for the rest of the afternoon."
"You told her what was happening?" she asks with surprise.
"No, but she knew something was bothering me."
"So she's going to mother you to death," Sloan says, a hint of
laughter in her voice.
"Pretty much," Shane answers ruefully.
"Okay, then," she concedes slowly. "We'll see you tonight, but be
sure to call us if you need to talk."
"I will," he promises. "And Sloan .... thanks. Going there
today can't have been easy for you."
"I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. I love you, Shane."
Shane blinks, suddenly lost for words, and stares at the floor
at his feet. "Sloan .... "
"I know, sweetie," Sloan says soothingly. "Take care of yourself,
and we'll see you soon."
"Okay," Shane says slowly. "Bye."
"Bye."
The phone call over, Shane sits silently in the chair, still holding
the phone in his hand and staring down at it.
"Shane?"
Shane looks up to find Trevor standing in the doorway, watching
him with a worried frown on his face. "What's going on?"
Trevor asks tightly.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Trev." Shane puts the phone down
on the small table next to the chair and stands up to walk over to him.
"Tom and Sloan were just calling to check up on us."
"It was more than that," Trevor insists. "Tell me."
Shane looks down at Trevor's determined face and relents, nodding
his head slowly. "Okay .... come on over here." Taking Trevor by
the shoulder, he steers him over to the big chair and sits him down
before kneeling in front of him and resting back on his heels.
"Mother and Father were captured by Marcus' men last night,"
Shane says slowly. "Tom and Sloan went to see them today."
"Are Mother and Father all right?"
"They're fine. They weren't hurt or anything."
"What will happen to them?" Trevor asks apprehensively.
"They're being sent back to the Council. They should be there
now, Tom says. He just wanted to talk to them first."
"About what?"
"A lot of things." Shane chooses his words carefully. "About us,
about Mother and Father's attempts to get us back. They
broke a lot of rules to do that, and it's gotten them in trouble
with the Council. Tom wanted to give them the chance to stay
here instead of going back, but they didn't want to."
Trevor's eyes were huge. "He was going to let them stay *here*?"
"Not here with us," Shane says hastily. "Here in the movement ....
they would be punished for what they had done to Tom, but they
would be given a fair chance."
"But they didn't want that."
"No."
"The Council doesn't like it when people make mistakes," Trevor
says quietly.
"No, they don't."
"What will happen to them?"
"I don't know, Trev," Shane says evasively. "We'll just have to wait
and see."
"But they won't be back, will they? They won't be back to try to get
us again?"
"No, Trev." Shane keeps his voice steady as he looks into his
brother's worried eyes. "They won't be back."
~*~*~*~
Harris Templeton watches impassively as Charles and Judith
Baker are brought into his office, their arms gripped firmly by
their guards. Both are shoved into the two wing chairs facing
Harris' desk, their guards backing away and leaving the office
silently.
Judith glances around the room, noting David's presence in
a chair flanking Harris' desk and Roger Abbott's on a nearby
couch. "I intend to protest the manner in which we were brought
here," she says coolly, returning her gaze to Harris.
"We were treated like criminals," Charles agrees emphatically,
straightening his wrinkled tie.
"The men who brought you in were colleagues of the ones who
died in the raid on Sloan Parker's apartment," Harris points
out evenly, leaning back in his chair. "That no doubt affected their
actions."
Charles' eyes flicker at the mention of the attack. "I don't understand
what that has to do with us."
"I've seen the tapes, Charles," Harris responds, reaching into a side
drawer of his desk and bringing out the three tapes the guards had
dropped off at his office fifteen minutes earlier when they'd first
returned from the plant. "I know about your part in the attack on
Tom Daniels."
Charles stares at the tapes and then up at Harris. "What you've
seen is evidence he's manufactured against us."
"So you're telling me you didn't have anything to do with it?"
Charles darts a quick look at Judith and Roger. "We did, but only
as a necessary step, to protect the Council and our species."
"Despite the fact there was an edict against any attacks."
"We believed an opportunity had presented itself to act decisively,"
Judith counters. "There wasn't time to notify you or the Head ....
we felt that we would have your support once the attack had
succeeded."
"But it didn't," Harris points out icily. "As to the problem of not
having enough time, you did manage to fit in a number of planning
sessions in the last few days and yet you never thought to call
either of us in to comment?"
Charles looks over at David accusingly. "I don't know what
you've been told .... " he begins.
"We knew you wouldn't authorize it," Roger says flatly, looking
up at Harris. "You wouldn't be willing to take the risk. But we
were, and had we succeeded, we would have been praised for
our initiative."
"But you didn't succeed, did you?" Harris asks, biting off each
word. "And what's worse, you tried to cover it up. You didn't
order those men to kill themselves so that they wouldn't tell
the other side our secrets .... you did it so that they wouldn't
tell anyone that you were the ones who'd authorized the attack.
That alone is treason."
He looks at all three with contempt. "As for your individual
crimes, we have yet to determine how far your betrayal went."
"We've done nothing wrong," Charles insists, straightening
in his chair.
"You worked with humans behind the Council's back," Harris
fires back. "You opened yourself to the possibility of blackmail
.... the only reason you didn't start sharing secrets with the other
side was that your blackmailer got caught."
"I refused to cooperate," Charles points out. "I was prepared
to sacrifice my son's life to protect the Council!"
"But you weren't prepared to sacrifice your reputation or your
power base, were you? Why didn't you tell one of us what was
happening, Charles? Myself? The Head?"
"I felt I could handle the situation on my own," Charles says
defiantly.
Harris looks at him in disgust and turns his attention to Judith.
"Why didn't you say anything, Judith?"
"Drew Richards had been captured," she says simply. "He was
no longer a threat, and no harm had been done."
"No harm," Harris echoes. "What about your son?"
Judith's expression tightens. "He was retrievable, if we could get
past Daniels."
"So you used a team of our men for personal gain, and you got
them killed in an attempt to clean up your husband's mess."
"I used a team of our men to try to eliminate the greatest threat
we face in our goal to succeed against the humans," she counters
evenly. "Personal gain did not come into it. Tom Daniels needed
to be stopped, and in the process, we would gain back a future
leader of this species."
"Your son."
"My son." Judith looks at him coolly. "You know yourself that
his test scores were high. He had the potential to move right to the
top some day .... he still does."
"Then why was your husband willing to sacrifice him to save
himself?"
Judith looks at him steadily, ignoring Charles' sudden shift in his
chair. "He made a mistake in judgment. It happens."
"Not while I'm in charge," Harris says evenly.
"Tom Daniels is behind all of this," Roger interrupts, lifting his
head to stare at Harris challengingly. "And the danger is that it's
working. He's got you convinced that we're traitors by handing
you manufactured evidence against us. Yes, we ordered that attack,
but we did it for all the right reasons. He found out about it somehow
and turned it against us."
"So you still insist you're not a spy for Tom Daniels?" Harris asks
bitingly. Charles and Judith flash a quick look at Roger, and Harris
stills as he senses their lack of surprise at the news. "You knew
about this?" he asks dangerously.
"Daniels told us," Charles says slowly. "But we didn't believe
him."
"We had no reason to," Judith says firmly. "Daniels only told us
to throw us off-balance and to turn us against Roger."
"I told you, it's all part of Daniels' plan to ruin me," Roger insists,
glaring at Harris.
"Then where did Marcus Adams and Sam Anderson get such
specific information about our operations, if you didn't tell them?"
"From Daniels' real source." Roger lunges up off the couch
with frustration, taking a step toward Harris. "Someone highly
placed on the Council or in these offices. Like David here .... "
Roger stares at David accusingly. "He's the perfect choice ....
a faceless bureaucrat who knows all of our secrets. He
insinuated himself into our planning sessions and then betrayed
us. Why couldn't he be doing the same to you?"
"Because he is loyal, unlike the rest of you," Harris snaps.
"Prove it," Roger challenges him. "He was the one who could
have warned Daniels about the attack, and the one who could
have provided Daniels with the information Adams talked about
on the tape."
"There's one thing you're forgetting," David speaks up, looking
at Roger evenly. "I have no reason to spy for Tom Daniels."
"No reason that we know of," Judith says, a calculating look in
her eyes.
"I have *no* reason," David repeats, speaking distinctly. "I have no
desire to gain power on the Council. I've done nothing to make
anyone question my loyalty to the Council, or that could open me
to the risk of blackmail by someone like Tom Daniels."
"Unlike the rest of you." Harris leans forward in his chair. "I've
heard enough."
"Harris .... " Roger says urgently, but Harris cuts him off. "These
videotapes and the audio tapes of your conversations will be
authenticated by our experts. You will each be interrogated.
If I were you, I would be prepared to tell the truth .... all of it."
He surveys them all with flinty eyes. "Your fate will be decided
based on the results of our tests and on your explanations."
"You have to give us the chance to defend ourselves before
the Council!" Charles protests. "We deserve at least that as
members of the Council and the Council staff."
"I don't *have* to do anything, Charles," Harris says icily. "I don't
even have to resort to interrogations .... I could have you shot where
you sit for what you've done."
"You wouldn't dare," Judith counters. "We have powerful supporters
behind us .... they wouldn't tolerate such unilateral action."
"They don't know the extent of your betrayal." Harris presses
his intercom button, and Tilton appears silently at the main doorway
to Harris' office. "Send them back in," Harris orders, and with a
flick of Tilton's hand, the Bakers' guards reappear, stationing themselves
behind Charles and Judith's chairs. "Take them to the interrogation
rooms," Harris says tersely. "And Abbott as well."
Roger looks up at the guards and then at Harris, coming to his
feet slowly. "You're making a mistake, Harris," he says flatly, glancing
at David. "You're trusting the wrong people."
"I'm trusting the only people worth trusting, Roger." Harris nods at the
guards. "Dismissed."
The guards pull Charles and Judith up out of their chairs and toward
the door, Judith yanking her arm away from them to walk on her own.
Roger follows them out, a guard holding him tightly by the elbow. Tilton
waits until all have left the office and closes the door behind them.
"Contact the Head's aide for me," Harris says as Tilton approaches
his desk. "Tell him I need to see the Head immediately."
Tilton nods silently and disappears into the anteroom, shutting the
door behind him.
"Authenticate those tapes yourself, David," Harris says, looking
over at him. "I don't want anyone else to see what's on them."
"Yes, sir." David gets to his feet and reaches over to take the tapes
in his hand. "I'll have them back to you by the end of the day."
"I want them sooner than that, if possible. And begin organizing
a Council trial. I want the full Council in attendance, as well as all
senior staff members. Schedule it to be held two days from now."
"Two days?" David hesitates. "Will that give the interrogators enough
time to finish their work, sir?"
"More than enough," Harris says flatly. "All of them were personally
trained by Lewis. I expect those three to break within a day."
~*~*~*~
"I tried getting her out of here half an hour ago," Ed says with
exasperation, keeping his voice low as he speaks into the
phone. "But she wanted to talk to one of the people she works
with first about the project we're working on, and now they're
holed up in his office."
"How soon do you think you can get away?" Ellen
asks on her end, holding Sloan's phone to her ear with one
hand and shooing Mischief away from the plate of candied
violets set out on the nearby counter with the other.
"As soon as I can get her out the front door," Ed says,
glancing up from his perch on the edge of a desk in the lab's
common room at Sarah and Peter Samuels, who sit in Peter's
office talking intently. "Any word from Tom or Sloan?"
"He called a few minutes ago to talk to Shane." Ellen deftly slides
the plate of violets out from under Mischief's nose and hands it to
Trevor, gesturing at him to put it in the fridge. "He said they were
just outside the lab where you are. Sloan talked to Shane as well
and said she expects them to be there until at least 6, so we're
on schedule."
"Good." Ed groans inwardly as he watches Peter lean over to
pluck a large book off one of his nearby bookshelves and Sarah
reach for a large notepad. "I'd better go .... if I don't stop her,
she'll be here all day."
"Good luck," Ellen says cheerfully.
"I'll need it," Ed mutters, ending the call and tucking his cell phone
in his jacket pocket. With a determined glint in his eye, he heads
for Peter's office, their voices becoming clearer to him as he
approaches. "What we have to do is run a series of trials,"
Peter is saying. "It worked for me when I first tried it, but we need
to make sure we can get the same results each time."
"We could start this afternoon," Sarah says, checking her watch. "I'll
call and see if one of the labs are free .... "
"Sarah," Ed says warningly, lifting his arm and pointing to his own
watch.
"Ed, look!" Sarah turns to him with an eager light in her eyes and
hands him a wrinkled piece of paper. "Peter thinks he's found the
formula we need to come up with for the nanites I told you about."
Ed looks down at the paper in confusion. "The nanites?"
"You know, the ones I want to use to disrupt the Council's mind-
control experiment?" Sarah reminds him.
"Yeah, right," he says, nodding his head slowly. "You wanted to
find a way to have them deliver a message to the human test
subject's brain and then dissolve into the bloodstream undetected."
"Exactly," Sarah says, and gestures at the paper. "This is a formula
Peter's come up with to build a nanite that would be compatible with
human blood."
"Interesting mix of compounds," Ed murmurs, studying the paper
intently.
"The key is to get the mix right," Peter explains. "Any error either
way and the nanites could leave behind traces that the Council
scientists could detect."
"Peter did some initial tests last night, but we were just agreeing that
we need to do more now to see how viable his conclusions are," Sarah
explains, reaching over the desk to pick up Peter's phone. "I was just
going to see if we could find some space to work on it .... " Hesitating,
she looks back at Ed. "Were you going to say something when you
first came in?"
Ed frowns up at her absently, and then his eyes suddenly go wide.
"Yeah, I was!" he says, leaning forward swiftly to snatch the phone out
of her hand. "The flowers, remember? We said we'd buy the flowers
and candles for tonight."
"Tonight?" Sloan appears at Peter's office door, her eyes bright with
interest. "What's happening tonight?"
Ed flashes a panicked look at Sarah and shoves the phone back
at her before turning to Sloan. "Tonight? Well .... uh .... I've invited
Sarah over to my place tonight, to give her a break away from here
for a while."
"And you need flowers for that?" Sloan says teasingly.
"And candles." Ed smiles at Sloan weakly. "For the table." As
her grin widens, he groans. "Sloan, it's just a dinner between
friends and a movie afterwards, all right?"
"A surfing movie." Sarah frowns and glances inquiringly at Sloan. "I'm
not sure what that is, but Ed wants to show me one."
"Don't let him," Sloan advises. "He'll torture you with B-movies no one
should ever have to suffer through."
"B-movies?" Sarah's frown deepens.
"You'll find out soon enough," Sloan predicts, and looks past him at
Peter. "Dr. Samuels," she says with a nod. "It's good to see you
again."
"Dr. Parker." Peter glances past her hopefully. "Is Dr. Attwood with
you?"
"He was," Sloan answers, glancing over her shoulder. "I left him just
down the hall, talking with Tom and Sam."
"If it's possible, Sarah and I would like to meet with you and Dr.
Attwood and Ed about the Council's mind-control experiments,"
Peter explains. "We think we may have come up with a new way
to disrupt them."
"Great," Sloan says, turning to leave. "I'll just go get him for you. "
"I'll do it," Ed says, moving swiftly to intercept her. "I need a word
with him anyway. Why don't you talk with Sarah and Peter while
I go?"
"Okay." Sloan looks up at him curiously. "Is something wrong,
Ed? You seem a little jumpy."
"Jumpy? Me?" Ed shakes his head. "No. Just a little wired ....
I think I've had too much coffee this morning."
"I didn't think there *was* such a thing as too much coffee for you,"
Sloan counters laughingly, letting Ed maneuver her into the chair next
to Sarah's in front of Peter's desk.
"It must be all this dominant coffee I've been drinking," Ed
says, backing toward the door. "Man, is it strong." With a last
warning glance at Sarah, he drops Peter's formula on the desk
and leaves, his eyes scanning the far hallway for Walter.
Sloan watches him go and looks back at Peter and Sarah,
smiling ruefully. "You'll have to forgive Ed .... he gets a little
manic at times."
"He's tired," Sarah explains. "He's been working hard."
"Too hard," Sloan agrees, glancing back at Ed's disappearing figure
with a slight frown.
~*~*~*~
"What's he doing now?" Walter asks Sam, glancing at the door
to the room where Martin Donovan sits.
"Trying to think of an explanation for those active files we found in his
computer," Sam says sardonically. "So far, he hasn't come up
with one."
"Where have you put Meredith?" Tom asks Sam.
"Down the hall in another office. She's been alone since we brought
her here, just as you asked."
Tom nods. "I want her to have to sit for a while and wonder what
our plans are for her. And I want her to wonder what Martin's telling
us." He looks at Sam questioningly. "How's he responding to the
questions about her?"
"Defensively .... he definitely doesn't like my suggestions
that she's the one in charge."
Walter nods thoughtfully. "So you're going to keep pushing that
point until he breaks?"
"Either that or we'll tell Meredith that he's cooperating with us,"
Tom agrees. "From what I've seen of her, she'll try to implicate
him to save herself."
"Walter," Ed says breathlessly, rushing up to them. "I need to talk
to you. Now."
"Is there a problem, Ed?" Walter asks, looking at his flushed
features with concern.
"Oh yeah," Ed says fervently, and then holds up his hands reassuringly
as Tom and Sam turn toward him alertly. "I mean no. No as in there's
no problem with anything here, but yeah, I do need to talk to you, Walter."
"He seems confused," Sam says, a rare smile tugging at his lips as
he relaxes his stance.
"He gets that way sometimes," Tom agrees wryly.
"Very funny," Ed mutters, narrowing his eyes at the two of them. "I'm
starting to regret encouraging a sense of humor in you guys."
"Why don't we just step aside and you can tell me what you need?"
Walter suggests. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen?"
Walter takes Ed's arm and steers him a little further down the
hallway, Tom and Sam watching them go with amusement. "Now,
what is it, Ed? You look a little panicked."
"I am," Ed says, turning so that his back faces Tom and Sam
and lowering his voice. "I need your help, Walter."
"To do what?"
"To keep Sloan busy for the next few hours while I take off with
Sarah."
Walter raises his eyebrow silently and crosses his arms in front of
him, waiting for an explanation.
"You see, Sloan's landlady and I have this plan .... " Ed begins.
Down the hallway, Sam turns back to Tom, his expression turning
serious. "How did it go with the Bakers?"
"The way I expected it to." Tom leans against the wall, automatically
scanning the faces of the people passing by. "They were defiant until
I showed them the tapes. Charles panicked after that, but Judith was
still fighting right up to the end."
"They wouldn't agree to surrender to us?"
Tom shakes his head silently.
"What happened afterward, have you heard?"
"The look-out Jason left behind called me just before we got here.
A Council team showed up at the plant shortly after we left and
escorted Judith and Charles out under heavy guard."
"Any indication whether they were there to protect them or take
them in?" Sam asks curiously.
"The look-out says the Council guards handled them both pretty
roughly when they put them in the van. We'll know more
once we've heard from David."
"He hasn't checked in with you yet?"
Tom shakes his head. "He planned on sticking close to Harris
today .... he won't have had the chance to get away to make
contact."
"You don't think he's in any trouble himself, do you?"
"When I talked to Harris Templeton on the phone this morning,
he seemed convinced that Roger Abbott was my informant. I
don't think he'll listen to anything Roger or the Bakers have to
say to him about David." Tom glances at his watch. "I'll just
check to see what Sloan's plans are, and then I'll start questioning
Meredith. Why don't you try Martin again and see what he's come
up with?"
"How far do you want me to go with him?" Sam asks.
"Just keep after him .... the same questions over and
over again. Sooner or later he'll lash out and make
a mistake. Either that or he won't be able to resist the chance
to claim credit for his own part in this."
"What about Meredith?"
"She'll try to play mind games with me," Tom says evenly, "and
she'll find out she's finally met her match."
~*~*~*~
"You're sure," Sarah says uncertainly, resisting as Ed tugs her gently
toward the door of Peter's office.
"Absolutely," Walter says firmly. "We all agree that you deserve time
off after what you've been through. Sloan and I can handle the meeting
with Peter, and we'll fill you and Ed in on the details tomorrow."
"I have some suggestions on how to program the nanites," Sarah
ventures. "I started making some mental notes when I was in
custody .... "
"Notes that we can go over tomorrow," Sloan says, standing up to help
Ed maneuver Sarah through the door. "Walter's right .... you need a
break, and we're going to give it to you whether you want it or not."
Sarah looks at Ed doubtfully and catches him glancing significantly
at his watch again. "Well, then," she says, remembering their
shopping plans. "I guess we should leave." Turning to Walter and
Sloan, she gives them a grateful smile. "Thank you .... I'll see you
both tomorrow morning."
With one last tug, Ed has her out of the office and down the hallway
just in time to bump into Tom and Sam. "We'll see you later," Ed
says determinedly, trying to steer her past them, but Sarah comes
to a sudden stop, looking up at Tom. "I'm glad we had the chance
to see you before we left, Tom," she says, holding out her hand
hesitantly. "I haven't had a chance yet to thank you for what you
did to help clear me."
"I was glad to do it," Tom responds, taking her hand in his and
shaking it firmly. "You didn't deserve what happened to you."
"Neither did you," she says quietly, and then flushes as both Ed
and Sam look at her curiously and Tom narrows his gaze. "I'm
sorry .... I didn't mean to say that," she apologizes awkwardly.
"At least not in that way." Looking flustered, she gestures down
the hall with one hand. "Could .... could I speak with you privately
for a minute?"
Tom exchanges a quick glance with Sam and then nods his head,
following her a short distance down the hall. When
Sarah turns to look at him, she doesn't know where to start,
twisting her hands together indecisively. "I've been wanting to
say this for some time now, but it's been hard to know how to
start." She gives him a faint smile. "I'm not very good with words."
"Neither am I," he says kindly. "Why not just say it?"
Taking a deep breath, she nods her head. "I don't think you realize
what you mean to us in the movement .... how much we respect
what you've done, and admire it." She gives a helpless gesture
with her hands. "None of us thought that a chameleon could ever
turn on Lewis and the Council, and at first, we couldn't believe you'd
done it. But you did, and we've followed your actions ever since.
I can't tell you what it meant to us to find out you'd agreed to work
with Marcus."
"Sarah," Tom says slowly, "I'm not sure what to say .... "
"Sloan told me that you still question yourself sometimes," Sarah
says hesitantly. "That you wonder if you *are* a traitor." At the
look of surprise in Tom's eyes, she tries to explain. "We were
talking about the difficulties I was having with Ed, and she told
me the problems you'd had with him at first. And then she told me
a little about your life since you'd split away, and some of the doubts
you've had." She reaches out to touch Tom's arm tentatively. "When
I told her how much we respect you, she wanted you to know, to help
you feel better about yourself. Tom, you give so much of yourself
to fight against the Council .... you give so much to people like me.
Don't ever think that you've betrayed our species. You're an
inspiration to those of us who want peace with humans."
Tom flushes at her words, glancing away for a minute and then
looking back at her with shadowed eyes. "I don't think I've heard
you say so much at one time since I've met you," he says quietly.
"I don't think anyone has," she confesses.
"What you've told me .... " He hesitates. "Thank you, Sarah. It
helps."
"I hope so." Catching a glimpse of Ed shifting restlessly, she
turns to leave. "I should go now .... Ed's waiting."
"Things are obviously better between you two," Tom observes
with the beginnings of a smile.
"Much better," she says, flushing slightly. "Thank you for
taking the time to talk to him. He and I both made the mistake of
assuming the worst about each other .... I think we'd still be doing
that if you and Sloan hadn't intervened."
"I'm glad we could help."
"So am I," she says, extending her hand again. "I mean it,
Tom .... thank you for everything you've done for us and
for everyone in the movement. I'm very grateful .... we all are."
Tom shakes her hand, smiling down at her, and then glances back
at Ed, who is rumpling his hair with an impatient hand. "I think I'd
better get you back," Tom says, and his smile widens at the look
of almost comical relief on Ed's face as they make their way back
up the hallway. "Finally!" Ed says, grabbing Sarah's hand in his and
backing away. "I'm sorry, guys .... it's just that we need to be
someplace in a hurry." Turning, he tows her down the hall with a
series of long strides, Sarah almost running to keep up with him.
Tom stares after them silently, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Is everything all right?" Sam asks him curiously. "Tom?"
Tom glances at him absently, and then frowns. "Have you talked to
Marcus yet?"
"About .... ?"
"What he did all those years ago, working for the Council. Have
you resolved your differences?"
Sam shrugs slightly, looking uncomfortable. "We agreed to work
together, if that's what you mean."
"But have you told him you've started to accept what he did. That
you want to put it behind you?"
Sam looks at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"
"I saw you talking with him when we came in a few minutes ago,"
Tom says reflectively. "Two days ago you could barely look at him,
but today you looked .... comfortable. As though the two of
you are working together as a team again."
Sam glances away, nodding at a colleague who passes by. "We
are," he admits. "Working with him all night on those files, and
watching him deal with all the staff members this morning .... I
guess it reminded me of all the good he's done for this movement,
and how hard he works at it." He frowns. "I still don't like what he
did. When I think of the deaths he caused, I'm not sure I'll ever be
able to accept it. But what he's done since has made up for it, at
least in part."
"Tell him that," Tom urges him. "He needs to hear it, even if it's
hard for you to say."
"What brought all this up?" Sam asks, glancing down the hallway
in the direction Ed and Sarah had taken. "What did she say to you?"
"Something I needed to hear," Tom says with a faint smile.
~*~*~*~
"Use the master list of Council members and their senior aides
as a guideline," David says, walking into his office with his aide
following behind him. "Each one is to be notified personally. Tell
them the trial is expected to start at 10:00 hours, and that
their presence will be mandatory."
Patrick Setter nods his head, making a note on the pad he
carries in his hand. "What about the senior bureaucrats?"
"Everyone in the senior level is to attend." David takes his seat
behind his desk, dropping the files he carries on its cluttered surface.
"What about civilians?"
"We'll be contacting all area leaders as well."
"Do you have any idea how long this will take?" Patrick asks,
looking up from his pad. "Some of them are involved in deep-
penetration projects .... it won't be easy for them to get away."
"They have no choice, and no, I don't have any idea. We've never
had anything like this before .... there have been trials on a smaller
scale for mid-level people who have turned, but no one this
senior." David pauses for a minute. "Dig up the records of
those trials .... we'll use them as a basis for our planning."
Patrick nods, making another note and heading to the door.
"How soon does this all have to be done?"
"Everyone's to be contacted by the end of today," David says,
looking up at him. "We're going to be putting in a lot of hours."
"I'd better get started, then," Patrick says, heading for the
doorway.
"And Patrick .... no calls for the next ten minutes, and no
visitors," David instructs, and gestures at his desk. "I need
some time to get myself organized."
"Yes, sir."
Left alone in the silence of his office, David stares down at his
files and then suddenly lets his breath out, slumping back against
his chair. He'd done it. He'd convinced Harris that Roger was
the real informant, and had faced down Roger's accusations in
Harris' office without giving himself away.
Reaching a hand into his shirt pocket, he draws out a small
white capsule and sets it on top of the papers on his desk. It had
been his insurance, his way out if Tom's plan hadn't worked and
Harris had had him arrested. He couldn't risk being taken alive
.... the danger of revealing his alliance with Tom and his love for
Laura had been too great. So he had taken it from the supply
kept for Council operatives and chameleons and had carried it
with him everywhere for the past week.
Staring down at it fixedly, he reviews his options. Harris had
dismissed Roger's accusations against David, but there was no
guarantee Roger wouldn't convince someone to listen to him
during his interrogation. David wouldn't be able to breathe
easily until the trial was over. And he wasn't willing to take
chances.
Picking the capsule up, he tucks it back carefully inside his shirt
pocket. It's within easy reach if he needs it. But, remembering
the contempt on Harris' face as he confronted Roger and the
Bakers, he suspects he won't.
~*~*~*~
"You won't need to waste my time and yours with the interrogation
techniques that Lewis taught you," Meredith says calmly, watching
Tom take a seat across from her.
"I won't?"
"No." She makes a small gesture of surrender with her hands. "Ask
me anything you want, and I'll tell you what I know."
"Fine." Tom leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of
him. "Why did you meet with Harris Templeton last night?"
"To trick him," Meredith says simply. "He'd blackmailed my brother
into working for him, and I went along to find a way to stop him and
to gather as much information as I could for our side."
"Our side," Tom echoes skeptically. "That would be Marcus Adams'
side?"
"Yes."
"You agreed to plant Templeton's virus in the movement's computer
system this morning," Tom points out. "That's hardly the act of a
loyal member."
"You know about that?" Meredith looks at him in surprise. "You
must have had me followed."
"And bugged," Tom agrees. "It was a good idea, meeting in his car
like that. It blocked the satellite link. But we were still able to hear
every word you said, thanks to a parabolic mike."
"I should have suspected," she murmurs. "It wasn't my idea to
meet in the car, though, Mr. Daniels. Templeton was the one
who determined where and when we met, and how."
"The fact remains that you agreed to spread the virus."
"I had to. He would have suspected something if I refused
to take the CDR from him." Meredith glances at the
closed door to the small interrogation room. "I'd planned
on holding on to it until I was able to get Martin free of
Templeton, and then I would have passed it on to Marcus."
"I see." Tom leans back in his chair, looking at her
skeptically. "Why didn't you tell Marcus this when he
confronted you this morning?"
"I didn't want to reveal Martin's part in this. I'd hoped Marcus
didn't have enough information on either of us to prove
his case and that we'd be set free." She hesitates.
"Once I was left in this room and had time to think, I
realized that Marcus wouldn't have done this unless
he had persuasive evidence against us, and I knew it was
time to tell the truth."
"What was Templeton blackmailing your brother for?"
Meredith hesitates again, choosing her words carefully.
"Sixteen years ago, Martin joined a radical Council youth cell. On
the surface, he'd always been charming and friendly in dealing
with humans, the way our parents were. But underneath,
he was actually much more hard-line. He resented our parents
for joining the movement, and he believed in the Council's
drive to eradicate humans." Leaning forward in her chair, she
looks at Tom intently. "As part of the initiation rite for joining
the cell, he and three other new members hunted down a human
and killed him. It changed my brother, Mr. Daniels. He hated
what he'd done, and he came to me for help. I persuaded him to
get out of the cell and covered up his part in the killing." She
winces slightly. "I thought it was behind us until Harris Templeton
contacted Martin and told him he knew what had happened."
"You never thought at the time to tell anyone what Martin
had done?"
"I couldn't. Martin is a decent person, and he had the potential
to be a valuable member of the movement. He made a
mistake .... I didn't see the sense in ruining his life."
"Then why do it now?"
"Because we're in trouble," she says frankly. "I can't
keep his past a secret any longer, and hopefully, by telling
you the truth, I can save him from a death sentence."
"And you can save yourself," Tom points out.
"I don't deny that. I'm trying to save us both, Mr. Daniels."
Tom studies her thoughtfully. "What about Sarah Fielding?
Did you plant evidence against her?"
"Yes." Meredith frowns, glancing back at the door. "I
didn't want to. I didn't want to sacrifice someone else's
reputation to save our own. But we had no choice. She
had no ties, no one who would miss her. She was a fourth."
"Who did your brother kill?" Tom asks abruptly. "Did he
know his name?"
"An old man named Jimmy," Meredith says slowly. "Jimmy
Cromwell. He was a drunk, a homeless man who hung around
the streets near the safe house where the cell met. They'd
caught him sneaking into the house more than once, looking
for a place to sleep. He was an easy target."
"I'm surprised you remember so much after all these years,"
Tom says mildly, reaching into his pocket for a pen and paper.
"You don't forget something like that," she says quietly. "Not
when it has the potential to ruin your brother's life and your
family's."
Tom writes down the man's name. "Where did it happen?"
"On the west side, near Highland and St. Mark's."
"When?"
"May, 1982." Meredith stares down at the paper as he writes
down the information. "You probably won't be able to track down
much information on it. I kept a close eye on the police investigation
.... they didn't make much effort to find out who did it. He was just
another transient."
"There'll be records on the murder somewhere." Tom folds
the paper up and puts it back in his pocket. "So what do
you expect from this, Meredith? What do you expect from
us?"
"I'll tell you everything I've learned about Templeton .... how
he thinks, the things he's said. I'll tell you what I know about
his plans for the movement. In return, I want Marcus'
assurance that he'll spare our lives."
Tom raises an eyebrow, looking at her speculatively. "You
aren't asking for clemency?"
"Beyond our lives, no," she says in a subdued voice. "We don't
deserve it. We betrayed the movement." She gives a small
shrug. "We tried to limit what we passed on to Templeton
and not give him any classified information. But we couldn't
always avoid it."
Biting her lip, she stares down at her hands. "What I'm hoping is that
Marcus will understand. He knows what it's like to keep secrets
because he has to, and to be ordered to betray a group of people."
"You listened to the conversations about his past with the Council,"
Tom says, watching her closely.
Meredith nods, looking up at him. "He was in a different position
than we were. He came to the movement planning on betraying it,
and then he changed his mind. We were already in the movement
and were forced into betrayal by someone who held power over us.
I'd like to think he'll take that into account in deciding what happens
to us."
Tom looks at her silently, assessing her words and her manner.
"I didn't expect any of this," he says finally. "It will take us time
to check this out."
"I realize that." With a frown, Meredith straightens in her chair,
her hands coming to rest on the edge of the desk. "Mr. Daniels,
I should warn you of something. Martin won't admit to this, I'm
sure of it. It's as though he's eliminated any memory of his own
responsibility in that killing from his mind. He couldn't deal with it
then, and he'll lash out if you try to make him face it now. He may
deny it, or he may blame it all on me."
"Then I'll be forewarned," he says lightly, rising up out of his chair
and walking over to the door.
"And Mr. Daniels," Meredith says, turning to watch him go. "Tell
Marcus I'm sorry. For everything. I really did try to protect the
movement."
Tom turns back to look at her. "Not enough," he says evenly.
~*~*~*~
"How many more times do I have to say it, Sam?" Martin
asks with frustration. "I don't *know* what's in those active
files on my computer. They're something Meredith set up,
a project she told me she was working on."
"And she set them up on your computer and not hers?"
Sam asks skeptically.
"She needed my help opening them. She's one of the
best in the movement in her line of work, but she's not
that technical. I agreed to open the files and said I'd help
her if she needed it. It's as simple as that."
"There's nothing simple about it, Martin," Sam says
impatiently. "Those files contain recorded conversations
from our lab and Walter's, obtained by bugs you planted."
"I *didn't*," Martin insists. "I didn't, Sam. I can't explain
the bugs and the active files. I trusted Meredith .... "
"Maybe you shouldn't have," Tom says quietly, standing
in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob.
"Tom?" Sam asks, turning to look up at him. Intent on his
confrontation with Martin, he hadn't sensed Tom's presence
nearby, and from the look of surprise on Martin's face, it was
obvious he hadn't either.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Tom continues, stepping into the room
and closing the door behind him. "But I had a question for
Martin."
"What is it?" Martin asks warily, looking up at him.
"What can you tell me about Jimmy Cromwell?"
Martin looks at him in shock, his face turning ashen. "Jimmy
.... ?"
"Cromwell," Tom repeats. "A transient killed in May, 1982,
in the Highland/St. Mark's area."
Martin stares at him, his eyes wide. "Where did .... ?"
"Meredith told me you killed him," Tom says dispassionately.
"Well, you and three other new members of the Council youth
cell you'd just joined. You were required to, she says, as part
of an initiation rite."
Martin rocks back in his chair wordlessly.
"According to her, she covered up your part of the crime and
has been protecting you ever since. When she found out
Harris Templeton was blackmailing you for what you'd done
and getting you to pass on information, she stepped in and
helped you as a way of keeping your secret safe."
"She .... " Martin darts a panicked look at Sam. "She's
wrong .... It didn't happen that way."
"Then what way did it happen, Martin?" Tom asks softly.
"You'd better tell us now, before she goes any further with
her story."
"She wouldn't do this," Martin insists, shaking his head.
"She implicated you in a murder, Martin. How much more will
you let her say before you start defending yourself and telling
us the truth?"
"You're lying." Martin stares up at him. "You're making all of
this up."
"If I am, how would I know about Jimmy?" Tom asks
evenly. "How would I know the date and the location? How
would I know about the Council cell?"
"I don't know," Martin says dazedly. "I can't think."
"Then we'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself," Tom says,
and with a nod to Sam, he opens the door and lets him pass by.
Before he leaves himself, he turns back to Martin. "Make the
right decision, Martin," he says quietly. "Don't let her blame it
all on you."
~*~*~*~
"Finally!" Ellen sighs with relief, flinging the door open.
"It took a while," Ed apologizes, his arms full of flowers. "Do you
have any idea how *hard* it was to find cream-colored roses? We
went to four places before we got enough!"
"And when we did find them, there were different sizes to choose from,"
Sarah says with a worried frown, following him into the apartment.
"Large ones, and something they called sweetheart roses. There
were some that were open and some that were just budding .... "
"And she had to pore over each of them to make sure we got
the best," Ed groans, setting the four bouquets of flowers down
on the island counter. "And then she had to go over all the napkins
at the card store."
"But there were different sizes and shades," Sarah protests, her
cheeks turning pink as she lays her packages down beside the
roses. "We had to make sure the napkins matched the flowers.
That's right, isn't it?" she adds, turning to Ellen. "The colors should
match exactly?"
"Exactly," Ellen confirms, leaning forward as Sarah digs into one
bag to produce two packages of napkins, one small and one large.
"You did a wonderful job, Sarah .... the colors are perfect."
"And here are the cards you asked for," Sarah adds, pulling out
another small bag. "There were so many to choose from, but I
thought these might be all right."
"Oh, they're lovely," Ellen enthuses, admiring the delicate designs
on the front of the two cards.
"Do you think so?" Sarah gives Ed an apologetic glance. "I spent
a lot of time going over them, trying to find the right ones. And then
there were the candles .... "
Ed rolls his eyes at Trevor, who sits on one of the kitchen stools
watching them silently. "Tell her about the candles, Sarah," he
prompts her, his mouth twitching.
"Well, there were so *many*," Sarah says, digging into another bag.
"Big wide ones and thinner ones and tall ones and small ones.
I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I got some of each."
"And used up most of my money to do it," Ed grumbles good-naturedly.
"Oh no, I didn't realize." Sarah turns to him uncertainly. "I have
some money .... let me know what I owe you."
"It's okay." He grins at her discomfiture. "We'll go to an ATM on
our way to my place."
"You shouldn't have to," Sarah says, searching in her purse for her
wallet. "I'll just give you some .... "
"Don't let him tease you, dear," Ellen says, patting her arm comfortably.
"Men love to complain about the way women spend money .... it
makes them feel superior. Now put your purse away, and let's
get to work. We'll have Trevor and Ed stuff the mushrooms while
you and I set out the flowers and candles, what do you say?"
"Mushrooms?" Ed asks, looking at Ellen apprehensively. "You
didn't say anything about us helping with the cooking."
"That's because I knew it would scare you off," she says practically,
tugging him over to where Trevor sits. "Now come along .... Trevor's
already started."
Ed surveys the tray of mushroom caps doubtfully, but his eyes
light up as he catches a whiff of the herbed stuffing. Picking up
a spoon, he scoops out a small mound of dressing, intent on
tasting it, but Ellen stops him with a quick rap on his knuckles.
"And *no* tasting the food," she says sternly. "We've just got
enough and no more."
Ed winces as he flexes his hand. "How did she know?" he
whispers to Trevor, leaning toward him.
"She knows everything," Trevor says matter-of-factly, carefully
scooping a small helping of dressing into one of the mushroom caps.
"She says it's because she's had four sons and a husband, and
that she knows how men's minds work."
"You bet I do," Ellen says tartly, unwrapping the roses. "So no
sneaking food and no slacking off. We've got work to do."
"Yes, ma'am," Ed says humbly, winking at Sarah as he reaches
for a mushroom cap.
~*~*~*~
"Do you think there's any truth to what she claims?" Sam asks,
leaning back against the door to Marcus' office.
"Enough to scare Martin into talking," Tom says, pacing over to
the windows, his head bent in thought. "Although that wasn't her
plan. She thought I'd check the facts, find out that a Jimmy
Cromwell *was* killed, and believe her story that Templeton would
be able to blackmail Martin into committing treason."
"And are you checking out her story?" Marcus asks, leaning back
in his chair behind his desk.
"I called Ray Petersen as soon as I left Meredith." Tom turns around
to look at him. "He's got a friend of his at his old station running a
trace to see what he can find."
"What are you going to do?" Marcus looks from Tom to Sam
questioningly.
"Martin will talk, as soon as he pulls himself together," Tom replies,
leaning back against the window, his arms folded in front of him.
"We'll find out the truth, and I'll confront her with it."
"What do you think the truth is?"
"I think she's more hardline than he is," Tom says reflectively. "I'd
bet that she's the one who got them involved in a cell, and that
she's the one willing to kill someone to prove her loyalty. She'd
boast about it if she could, but right now she needs to look like a
loyal, supportive sister, so she'll make Martin look like the
guilty one."
Looking at Marcus, he frowns. "I also think she may use your past
against you at some point. She's already raised the issue in asking
you to compare her plight to yours when you were assigned to
destroy the movement .... if we confront her, she could try to
blackmail you."
"I've thought of that," Marcus says heavily, leaning back in his
chair. "If I put her on trial, she could try to turn the focus on me
and there's nothing I could do to stop her."
"Don't let her," Sam interjects. "Either skip the trial entirely or
pre-empt her by releasing the information before she can."
Marcus nods slowly. "I've considered both options. Tom, check
with me before you go back in for another session with her .... I
want to hear what Martin has to say, and then I'll decide."
"There's going to be trouble no matter what you do," Sam predicts.
"These are Joe Donovan's children .... for his sake alone, people
are going to want the process to be as fair as possible."
"We all want that." Marcus rubs his forehead wearily. "What I
can't understand is how this happened. I know Joe and his wife,
and I know those kids. I watched them grow up. I didn't sense
any rebellion on their part or any animosity .... how did they keep
it a secret from everyone for so many years?"
"I've been wondering about that myself," Sam agrees. "Someone
should have been able to sense something."
"Unless Meredith and Martin had a way of blocking them," Tom
says slowly.
"You're saying they used masking?" Marcus asks with a frown.
"Not masking .... I would have been able to sense that." Tom
shakes his head. "No, it's something else .... something .... "
A knock at the door sounds, interrupting them. "Sam?" The
man they had left to guard Martin steps forward tentatively as
Sam opens the door. "He's asking for you."
~*~*~*~
"Well?" Meredith asks two hours later. "Did you talk to Marcus?"
"I did," Tom responds, taking a seat across the table from her.
"And? Was he willing to consider my offer of information in
exchange for mercy?"
"No," Tom says simply, leaning back in his chair and crossing
his arms in front of him. "He doesn't find your story credible, and
neither do I."
Meredith bends her head forward slightly, as if trying to understand.
"But I told you the truth."
"You told me *a* truth surrounded by lies and thought I'd be
naive enough to accept it," Tom responds evenly. "There's a
difference."
Meredith opens her mouth to protest and then stops herself,
looking at him perceptively. "Martin told you his
version of the story, didn't he? And you believed him."
"Do you mean the version where you were the one who joined
the cell and persuaded him to join as well?" Tom nods his
head. "He claims that you were the one who chose Jimmy
Cromwell to kill, and that you were the one to deliver the final,
fatal blow. You were quite proud of yourself, according to Martin,
and quite smart .... you covered up your part and his in what
happened so that no one could ever accuse you of it later."
"I warned you that he might blame it on me," Meredith says
patiently. "Martin has never taken responsibility for anything in
his life, not unless it's something he can take credit for. Anyone
who knows him can tell you that."
"Well, he's claiming responsibility now for his part in what happened,"
Tom says mildly. "He admits to bugging the two labs and passing on
the information, through you, to Harris Templeton. He admits to
planning to betray the movement. And he admits to joining that cell
years ago.
"In fact," he adds, "he told us quite a detailed story about what
happened after Jimmy Cromwell was murdered and you two were
accepted into the cell. How the cell members helped train the two
of you in espionage and helped you come up with your plan to one
day destroy the movement from within. How you waited for years
until you were both in positions of authority, and then you put your
plan into motion.
"What he won't admit to is murder," Tom concludes. "At least not
the murder of Jimmy Cromwell. He claims that he only watched ....
that you did the actual killing. And he won't admit to being the one
who contacted Harris Templeton or who met with him each week.
That, he says, was your responsibility."
"But I met with Harris Templeton only to save Martin," Meredith points
out. "I told you that."
"You told me a lot of things, Meredith. So did Martin." Tom shrugs
his shoulders. "The problem is that I believed him."
Meredith stares at him with wide eyes. "You're making a mistake,
Mr. Daniels .... you're falling for Martin's charm the way
everyone else has, and it's going to get him killed. Marcus will
believe that Martin went into this willingly when he was forced into
it by Harris Templeton."
"Are you sure you're not more concerned about the fact that Marcus
will believe that you were an equal partner in this plan to betray us?"
Tom asks. "Martin's story condemns you, too."
Meredith nods her head slowly. "I admit it .... I don't want to die,
and if Marcus believes Martin's story over mine, I could. We both
could, depending on what Marcus decides. But that's not my
primary goal here. I've protected Martin almost all of my life, and
I'm still trying to do that."
"So family loyalty is important to you."
"Yes," she says simply. "Maybe you can't understand it, growing up
the way you did. But it *is* possible for families in our species to
care about each other, to feel loyalty and affection for each other."
Tom studies her silently, and then shakes his head. "You really
must think I'm stupid." he says wryly.
Meredith frowns, drawing back a little in her chair. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Tom agrees. "You've gotten away with it for
years and don't see why it still won't work for you."
"Mr. Daniels .... "
"You're a liar, Meredith," he says evenly, rising up out of
his chair to lean toward her, his hands planted flat on the table
between them. "And you're a traitor. You're willing to sacrifice
your own brother to survive, and to destroy your family and an
entire movement of people all because you think you're superior
to them."
Meredith stares up at him warily. "I don't think I'm superior to
anyone."
"Yes, you do," Tom say softly. "You must have hated all those years
of pretending to believe in peace, playing with the human children
your parents invited over to your house, working for Marcus Adams
and his movement, when all the while you wanted them dead."
He cocks his head, studying her. "I've been trying to figure out how
you could have done it. How you could have fooled everyone for so
long without anyone sensing your true motives. And it wasn't until
you compared yourself to Marcus that I finally figured it out."
"Figured what out?"
"That you can lie just the way he can. Or didn't you hear all the
details in those conversations you taped?" Tom straightens up and
backs away from the table, tucking his hands in his pockets as he
surveys her. "Marcus was drafted by the Council because he was
an expert in lying. He could convince anyone of anything without
them sensing his true motives. The Council used to scour the
population for people like him before masking was developed and
used the ones they found as operatives." He nods his head at her.
"You must have the same ability that Marcus does .... that's how
you've gotten away with so much for so long without detection."
"I haven't gotten away with anything because I haven't *done*
anything," Meredith protests. "Not until Harris began blackmailing
Martin. You're wrong about this, Mr. Daniels."
"Am I?" Tom asks skeptically. "You've lied to me since the
moment I walked in here, and you thought you were smart
enough to keep doing it until you had me completely convinced.
It's a wonder you didn't try to persuade me that both of you
were completely innocent, but then you're too smart for that,
aren't you? You used just enough of the truth to make your
story believable, and then you used emotion to convince me,
professing loyalty to your brother and to your family."
"I haven't tried to trick you," she protests, gripping the edge of the
table with both hands. "I've tried to explain .... to offer my help, as
a way of making reparations."
"There's only one fault in your plan, and it's what got you caught,"
Tom says bluntly. "You're arrogant. You see us as inferior, and so you
underestimated us. You tried to frame Sarah without stopping to think
that people who care about her might see through the circumstantial
evidence you left. You tried to destroy your own brother to save yourself
and never stopped to think that we might listen to him if he fought back. You
pride yourself on being careful, and yet you let us tag you last night
at the restaurant." At the brief flicker in her gaze, he nods with grim
satisfaction. "The woman who brushed by you marked you with a
chemical that let a satellite track you to your meeting with Harris
Templeton. And what's worse, I followed you in my car and you didn't
sense my presence once in all that time."
"All the more proof that I'm no expert at this," she says tartly, her
calm beginning to slip. "If I'd really been trained by the cell, I'd know to
watch out for things like that. You can't have it both ways, Mr.
Daniels .... either I'm a spy who knows what I'm doing, or I'm an amateur
just trying to save myself and my brother."
"Oh, you're a spy who knows what you're doing, but you have your
limits," Tom says coolly. "Your faith in yourself blinds you to your
faults, Meredith, and your mistakes."
Meredith tightens her lips, refusing to rise to his bait again.
"Didn't you think I'd know from my source how you first approached
Templeton? That I'd *know* that it was your idea and not his for
you to work from the inside?"
"You can't believe anything Roger Abbott has to say," Meredith
insists, glaring up at him. "Someone who would betray his own kind
can't be trusted."
Raising his eyebrow, Tom smiles at her mockingly. "A strange
statement coming from someone who's admitted to being a traitor
herself, wouldn't you agree?"
"It's not the same thing," she says flatly.
"How would you know?" he counters. "You say there are extenuating
reasons why you betrayed the movement .... why couldn't the same
thing be true of Roger Abbott?"
Meredith lapses into silence again, staring up at him challengingly,
and Tom gives a sigh, glancing up at the door. "Meredith, you're
wasting my time. I didn't come here for information .... we're getting
that from Martin. All I wanted from you was a reason why .... why
you turned against your family in the first place, and why you came up
with this plan. But if you're not willing to cooperate, there's no point in
continuing this."
"I want to see Marcus," she says evenly.
"To get him to listen to you?" Tom shakes his head. "He doesn't
want to see you. He's heard what you have to say and has decided
to sit in on Martin's interrogation instead."
"Tell him I *need* to see him," she insists. "He'll listen to me .... he
knows my father .... "
"He doesn't want to see you, Meredith," Tom repeats. "Neither
does your father. They have no need to .... Martin's telling them
everything they want to know."
"He can't!" Meredith rises halfway out of her chair in protest
and then drops back down again, her hands fisted on the table.
"He *can't* tell them what happened. Only *I* can."
"I don't know, he seems to be doing fine on his own." Tom heads
toward the door. "You'll be moved to a cell soon, Meredith, while
Marcus decides what to do with the two of you. I don't expect we'll
be meeting again."
"You won't break me," Meredith vows, staring after him. "That's
what you're trying to do, isn't it? You want to scare me into
confessing to protect myself from what Martin might be saying."
"I don't need to," Tom says simply, opening the door. "Face it,
Meredith, you became superfluous the minute Martin opened his
mouth."
"I don't believe you," she says flatly, averting her eyes to the wall
across from her. "You're bluffing."
Tom glances at the guard waiting outside and then shuts the door,
walking back into the room. "This isn't a game, Meredith," he
says, his voice hardening as he stands directly across the
table from her. "You've been caught. The evidence against you is
so overwhelming that the trial will only be a formality. Whether you
live or die depends on Marcus alone, and he's not inclined at the
moment to be merciful. And whether you speak to me or not won't
change any of it. You're a traitor, and you're about to be convicted
as one."
"You won't break me," she repeats, her voice tight with tension.
"I already have," he says evenly. "Look at you .... it's killing you that
Martin's getting all the attention. You can't stand it that Marcus is in
there, listening to what Martin has to say, and not here with you. So
you keep talking to me when you should have just let me go, because
you can't bear for anyone else to take credit for your ideas."
"Why should I?" she bursts out, surging up out of her chair to lean
toward him, her hands braced on the table. "Why should I let Martin
make it look as though he was an equal partner in all this? It was
*my* plan, *my* goal. He was just there to do what I told him to."
"So you admit to plotting against the movement," Tom says flatly.
Meredith stares at him and then shoves herself back from the
table, turning her back on him to pace the length of the room,
her hands fisted at her side. Tom watches her restless, angry
movements without comment, standing across the table from
her with his hands resting casually in his pants pockets.
"Do you *know* what it was like, having to parrot those ridiculous
platitudes about peace and cooperation day after day?" she finally
says, glaring up at him challengingly as she paces. "To spend my
life surrounded by people I despised and parents I despised even
more? The only thing that got me through was the knowledge that
some day I'd destroy them all and take my rightful place on the
Council."
Tom raises his eyebrow skeptically. "You thought the Council
members would be willing to share power with you?"
"Yes, once I'd proven how valuable I could be to them." She gives
a small, impatient movement with her clenched hands. "I *knew*
that if I could do something impressive enough, they'd recognize
my potential and make me one of them."
"And so you decided to betray everyone you know."
"It's not betrayal when your actions are just," she says flatly.
"Isn't that what you told yourself when you turned your back on
your species?"
"I turned my back on Lewis and the Council," Tom corrects
her mildly. "Not my species."
"You turned your back on the members of our species who
count," she snaps, stopping her pacing to confront him. "The
ones who are faithful to the true cause, not to Marcus Adams'
pathetic little peace movement. How does it feel, Tom, to
prostitute yourself for the sake of a worthless group of people
like this? How does it feel to use the skills that Lewis taught
you against your own kind?"
"You're not my kind, Meredith," he says evenly. "You're a
perversion of it, the kind of fanatic who will destroy our entire
species if people like Marcus don't prevail."
"*You're* the perversion," she fires back. "You could have been
the best of the Chosen. You could have led us to absolute power
over the humans. But instead you gave into emotions .... to *love*
.... and it left you weak and powerless, willing to work for people
you wouldn't have tolerated in your former life."
With a sound of frustration, she spins away from him and begins
pacing again, her hands still clenched at her sides. "I was so
*close* to destroying them, and no one suspected. Not Marcus, not
Sam .... *none* of them. After all," she says mockingly, "I was a
member of one of the most loyal families of the movement. No
one would think to question me."
"No, they wouldn't," Tom says reflectively. "They can't understand
what's led you to this, and neither can I. How could someone like
you, born and raised in the movement, decide to betray it so
completely?"
"Because it deserves to be betrayed." Meredith reaches the window
at one end of the room and stares out, her back to him. "I saw
that even as a child .... how weak the movement was, how
willing it was to live and work with a species that's so inherently inferior
to ours." Her lips tighten as she glances back at him. "I knew I was
better than all of them .... my parents, their friends, the other
members of the movement. I was the one true believer in the
Council and its goals, and it was up to me to destroy the movement
from within and return to my real people."
"You keep talking about *your* beliefs and *your* plans," Tom points
out. "What about Martin?"
"Martin was useful," she says dismissively, looking back out the
window. "He shared my beliefs and was willing to do whatever I
wanted."
"He also shared your ability to lie."
She nods her head abruptly. "We learned early on that we could
deceive anyone we wanted without them sensing it. It's what
made it possible for us to keep our thoughts to ourselves for so
many years and to move into positions of power."
"So you worked together as a team, but you had no plans to share
the credit with Martin if you succeeded."
"Why should I?" Turning to face him, her back against the window,
she lifts her chin challengingly. "*I* was the one who came up with
the plan, and I was the one with the intelligence to make it work."
"And yet it didn't," Tom reminds her.
"It would have if you hadn't gotten involved," she says flatly.
"With your chameleon training and Roger Abbott ready to tell you
all the Council's secrets, you were the one thing I hadn't expected.
And even then, you wouldn't have guessed without Roger's help,
would you?"
"Having a source on the Council gave us a head start," Tom admits.
"But once we knew we had a traitor in our ranks, it wasn't hard
to narrow our focus down to you and Martin. The trail of your
mistakes led us right to you."
"I did *not* make mistakes!" Meredith insists, glaring at him.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"Because it's true," Tom says bluntly. "Your plan to set Sarah
up was transparent and clumsy. Your reliance on Martin to carry
out his part of the plan was a miscalculation no first-year chameleon
trainee would make .... he may be charming, but he's weak and he's
ineffective and anyone with any sense would know that. He couldn't
even kill me when he tried."
"He came close," she says stubbornly.
"Close isn't good enough."
"I should have done it myself." Meredith glances back out the
window, her face set with frustration. "With you dead, I would have
succeeded."
"Maybe," Tom concedes. "But I'd like to think you wouldn't have.
Marcus didn't believe in the evidence against Sarah either .... he
was the one who realized that it was you, and without any help from
me."
"Marcus," she says contemptuously. "Another traitor to the Council."
"A man who followed his beliefs," Tom corrects her. "Just as you did."
"But will his precious movement see it that way?" Meredith demands,
turning to face Tom. "And what would they do if they found
out that he was the one who had those people killed when he first
arrived?"
"It would be difficult for them, but they'd understand."
"Are you so sure?" she asks tauntingly. "Many of them may not.
The fact that Marcus came here to destroy the movement makes
him as much a traitor as Martin and I, and I can think of a number
of members who couldn't condone that .... *if* they were to find out,
that is."
"And you would tell them?"
"If he doesn't agree to grant us clemency." She gives a small
shrug. "We'll be forced to use any trial he holds for us as a forum
to expose his past crimes unless he agrees to spare us."
"He doesn't have to hold a trial at all, Meredith," Tom points out.
"He could have you shot for treason today and save himself
the trouble of giving in to your blackmail."
"But he wouldn't," she says with growing assurance. "You know
it as well as I do. Marcus prides himself on being fair .... he'd
grant us the chance to defend ourselves, and we'd be entitled to do
everything we could to save our lives."
"You're right, he would," Tom agrees, nodding his head slowly.
"Then you'll talk to him .... present him with my ultimatum."
Meredith takes a step toward the table. "Tell him that it's his choice
whether his past stays a secret or not."
"That won't be necessary."
"You'll agree to my conditions?"
"There's no need to." Taking his hands out of his pockets, Tom
steps toward the table, carefully setting his chair into place against
it. "The man you revile as being so weak and powerless has already
anticipated you, Meredith," he says evenly, looking up at her. "He's
working now on the speech he plans to give to the entire staff
tomorrow, revealing the truth about his past."
Meredith stares at him in shock. "He wouldn't," she says
slowly. "He'd have too much to lose."
"He is," Tom corrects her calmly. "He anticipated you using
the information against him and decided to pre-empt you. It
seems he's a little smarter than you gave him credit for."
Glancing down at his watch, he adds, "This interrogation session
is at an end. If you have anything more you wish to add, now
would be the time to do it."
Meredith's lips tighten at his dismissive tone. "Just one thing,
*Tom*. I may have failed, but the Council won't. Wait and see
.... we *will* succeed, and you will be destroyed."
Tom smiles faintly. "But you won't be there to profit from it," he
points out. "And that's what it was all about, wasn't it, Meredith?
Meredith looks at him wordlessly before turning her back on him,
her arms clutched tightly around her waist as she stares out the
window.
Crossing the room, Tom opens the door and nods at the waiting
guard. "We're done here," he says quietly.
~*~*~*~
"Are you almost finished?" Ellen asks, peering over Ed's
shoulder.
"Almost," he says, writing the last of his message in one of the
cards Sarah had bought. "How about you?"
"All done," she says, her eyes widening as she reads Ed's
inscription on the card. "Do I want to know what that means?"
"It's a gift," Ed says with a grin, closing the card and tucking
it in its envelope. "One that should make them very happy."
"A gift?" Her curiosity mounting, she watches as he carefully
props the envelope next to hers against a tall crystal vase full of
roses on the island counter.
"A private one," he amplifies, slipping off the kitchen stool to
tuck her arm in his and turn her away from the counter. "So
no peeking."
"Would I .... ?"
"In a heartbeat," Ed confirms, grinning down at her. "You may
know men, but I know a little bit about women."
"Not much, or you'd have bought some special flowers for that
one over there too," Ellen says with a nod at Sarah, who is bent
over the dining room table, straightening the silver.
"I didn't want to scare her off," Ed says in a stage whisper.
"She's a little shy about these things."
"But you *are* going to give her a special dinner tonight," Ellen
says hopefully.
"The best," Ed confirms. "Pizza and sodas, with popcorn
to start with and M&M's ice cream for dessert." At Ellen's
raised eyebrow, he bridles a little. "Hey, it's gourmet popcorn,"
he points out. "I only buy the best."
Ellen rolls her eyes at him, biting back a laugh, but before she
can say something, Shane accidentally bumps into her. "Sorry,"
he says, his voice muffled as he crouches down to check the
floor behind the island stools. "I thought one of them might
be down here."
"You still haven't found any of the kittens?" Ellen asks, glancing
around the living room.
"Not yet," Shane says, straightening up to glance around the
apartment. "The minute we brought the pet carrier out, they all
ran in different directions."
"I found Smudge," Trevor calls out, hoisting the kitten up in his
arms from her hiding place behind a pillow on the couch.
"And I found Puff," Davey adds, emerging from the rooms next
door with Puff dangling from his hands, squirming energetically.
"She tried to climb into my toolbox."
"Well, round 'em up," Ed says, checking his watch. "We've got
to leave soon, and we need them in their carrier and all their stuff
together to take over to Ellen's place."
"Are you sure we should move them like this?" Shane asks
doubtfully. "Maybe they'd be better here, where they're used
to their surroundings."
"And have Mischief trying to steal Tom and Sloan's dinner?"
Ellen shakes her head. "No, those two need a night alone, and
that means without kittens getting underfoot. Go fetch the other
two .... I don't know where Shadow's gotten to, but I saw
Mischief lurking under the dining room table."
"Is this Mischief?" Sarah asks, holding the kitten out in front
of her awkwardly. "I found her trying to reach for the edge of
the tablecloth."
"That's her all right," Ellen says with relief, spotting the kitten's
distinctive markings. "Thank goodness you caught her in time
.... I can just imagine what would have happened if she'd pulled
it and all those dishes over on top of her."
Sarah hands Mischief to Shane, who tucks her and the other
two kittens in the carrier. "Now spread out, people," Ellen orders.
"We've got one more kitten to find."
Ten minutes later Shadow is discovered huddled behind Tom's
black bag in the closet and is tucked into the case with the other
kittens. Shane and Davey head for Ellen's apartment, Shane
with the kittens' bed and Davey with their litter box, while Ed
follows behind with the carrier in one hand and a bag
of cat toys in the other. Trevor hovers uncertainly in the doorway,
looking at Ed's departing figure and then back at Sarah and at
Ellen, who hands him a bag of cat food. "You'll call me,
won't you?" he asks Ellen with a worried frown. "If anything
happens to Smudge while I'm gone, I mean."
"Nothing's going to happen to her, Trevor," Ellen says, reaching
out to touch his cheek reassuringly. "But if she decides she
misses you, I'll call you and you can talk to her over the phone."
"I'd like that, if you wouldn't mind," he says, his face flushing
a little. "I've never had anyone I was responsible for before."
"And you're doing a very good job," Ellen reassures him. "But
it's okay to take a break from your responsibilities every now
and then, and Davey and I will both be sure to keep an eye on
her while you're gone. Now go on and take the food over to my place,
and then you can come back here and collect your things to go
to Ed's."
Trevor hesitates for another minute and then heads off after
Ed, carefully clutching the bag of food to his chest.
"That one worries too much," Ellen sighs, watching him go.
"But then he's had good reason to lately."
"It takes time to feel safe again after something bad has happened,"
Sarah says quietly, lifting her hand in response as Trevor gives them
a small wave just before disappearing around the corner.
"I guess it does." Ellen turns to face her, her friendly face
creased in a thoughtful frown. "Sarah, when you're with the boys
tonight, would you keep an eye on them? Shane's been distracted
all day .... something's bothering him, but he won't say what. He's
been a little better since Tom called this afternoon, but both of them
are a bit on edge. Ed's good with them, but sometimes a woman
can spot what a man can't."
"I don't know anything about children," Sarah says doubtfully.
"I'm not sure what I could do to help."
"Just keep being kind to them, the way you've been today. They
like you, I can tell, and they trust you. They may turn to you
if they need to talk to someone."
Sarah looks at her with surprise and then nods her head slowly.
"I'll try."
"That's all I ask," Ellen says, patting her on the arm. "Now,"
she says, turning to study the apartment, "let's check the boys'
knapsacks to make sure they've packed everything they'll need, and
then we'll do one more round of the apartment. I can't think of
anything we've missed, though .... the dinner's cooking and
everything's set out nicely .... " She pauses to admire
the scene in front of her. "It *does* look lovely, doesn't it?"
Sarah follows her gaze around the apartment with a wistful
smile on her face. "It's beautiful," she says softly.
~*~*~*~
"Sir?"
Harris Templeton looks up impatiently at the sound of Robert
Tilton's voice. "Has the Head cleared time in his schedule
for me to see him?" he asks abruptly.
"Not that I know of, sir," Tilton replies. "But he has sent
someone here to see you."
Templeton frowns at him and then nods his head, looking back
down at the papers spread out in front of him as Tilton retreats
to the door to let in the unexpected visitor.
"Harris Templeton?"
Harris looks up again to find a stranger standing in front of him,
a dark-haired man in his early 30's dressed all in black. "And
you are?" Harris asks bluntly.
"My name is not important," the man says, stepping forward
to hand him a letter-sized envelope. "What I have here is."
Harris reaches out to take the envelope and opens it,
pulling out the letter inside. "What is this?" he demands,
scanning the letter quickly.
"Your instructions are quite clear."
"This is a mistake," Harris says flatly, setting the letter down
on his desk. "He can't mean this."
"He can and he does."
"Not if I talk him out of it," Harris snaps, reaching for his phone,
but the man steps forward to place his hand over Harris'.
"He was quite definite about this, Mr. Templeton," the man says
evenly. "He wants his orders followed immediately, no questions
asked."
Harris glares at him and yanks his hand out from under the
man's grip. "You realize that I outrank you."
"Not in this instance," the man says, his dark eyes watchful.
"We've been given special powers in this case, and you
are to do what I tell you to or answer to him."
Harris tightens his lips and reaches for his intercom button.
"Tilton," he says tersely. "Get in here."
~*~*~*~
"Is it just me, or is this one of the longer days we've spent
together?" Sloan asks wearily, inserting her key in the lock
to her front door.
"It's hard to tell." Tom leans back against the brick wall
next to her, smiling at her tiredly. "They're all beginning to
blur together."
"And there's still dinner to cook and an apartment I haven't
cleaned in I don't know how long .... " Sloan mourns, opening
the door and walking in, her purse already slipping off her
shoulder.
"Maybe we could order dinner in again," Tom begins, and then,
sensing her shock, steps past her quickly, his defenses up.
"What is it, Sloan?"
"It's so clean." Sloan stands still, her purse dropping to the floor
as she stares around the apartment. "And neat. And
.... beautiful."
Tom follows her gaze around the softly-lit living room, taking in
the fire flickering in the fireplace and the groupings of candles
and flowers, and he reaches out with his senses for the presence
of anyone else in the quiet apartment. "It's empty," he says
uneasily, taking a few steps into the room. "Did Ellen say she
was taking the boys somewhere?"
"No," Sloan says slowly, her eyes coming to rest on the tall
vase filled with cream-colored roses on the kitchen island and
the two envelopes resting against its base. "It looks like she
left us a note, though."
Tom turns around to watch her as she walks over to pick up
the two envelopes. "There's one for you, and one for me." Sloan
looks up at him with a puzzled frown and hands him the one
envelope. "That's Ed's handwriting on yours."
Tom stares down at his envelope, and then looks up to watch
as Sloan opens hers and takes out the card inside.
"Dear Sloan," she reads aloud. "The boys are spending
the night at Ed's place, and the kittens are with me. We all
agreed that you two needed time alone, and decided that the
only way you'd have time for a date was if we arranged one for
you ourselves. You'll find stuffed mushrooms heating in the oven,
dinner cooking on the stove, and a dessert waiting for you
in the fridge. Bon appetit .... Ellen."
Sloan looks up at Tom with a growing smile on her face, and
then dips her head down again. "There's a P.S. here .... 'Please
explain to me someday what Ed's gift to you is. I'm dying to know.'"
"Ed's gift?" Tom turns the envelope over and unseals it,
taking out the card. Reading silently, he bites back a smile,
his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"What?" Sloan asks, watching him curiously. "What is it?"
Tom hands the card to her and she bends her head over
it, a lock of curly red hair falling over her face. "Dear Tom," she
reads out loud. "That waiting period we talked about is over. Enjoy.
Ed. P.S. I'll call before I drop by with the boys in the morning."
Sloan looks up at Tom with a grin. "Is this what I think it is?"
"It looks like I'm healed," he agrees, his lips curving in an
intimate smile.
Sloan's grin widens and she takes another look around the room,
noting the small table someone had placed in front of the fireplace
and set with a bottle of wine, two tall wine glasses and
a small bouquet of roses. Groups of lighted candles of all sizes line
the mantel, and there are more candles in silver candlesticks on the
dining-room table, along with china, silver, crystal, and more small
bouquets of roses. "Sooo .... you get a note saying that you're finally
healed from your surgery, and we find ourselves alone in an
apartment full of flowers and candles and" -- she pauses
to listen for a moment -- "romantic music playing in the background."
She looks back at him teasingly. "It looks like a set-up to me."
"I think they called it a date," Tom clarifies, his smile deepening.
"So they did." Sloan reaches out to take hold of Tom's black
jacket, tugging him toward her. "You know, suddenly I'm
feeling not so tired any more."
"That's funny," Tom confesses, a trace of laughter in his voice as
he lets her pull him close. "Neither am I."
~*~*~*~
"This," Ed says reverently, holding the tape up for them to see,
"is a classic. A primer for surfing movies that can't be missed."
Sarah and Shane exchange bemused glances from their
positions in his small apartment, Sarah on the couch and Shane
stretched out on the floor at her feet in front of the t.v. set. Trevor,
sitting cross-legged beside Shane, looks up at Ed attentively.
"'Ride the Wild Surf'", Ed explains, bending down to insert the
tape in the vcr. "Made in 1964 with Fabian, Tab Hunter, and
Robert Mitchum. Formulaic, admittedly, but even Leonard Maltin
agrees with me that the surfing footage is excellent."
Stepping over Shane, Ed makes his way back to the couch
and settles down beside Sarah, his remote control in hand. "Now,
are we ready? Popcorn and sodas for everyone?"
Shane and Trevor nod obediently, indicating the large bowl set
out in front of them and the two cans of soda, and Ed reaches
over to settle a second bowl between himself and Sarah on the
couch.
"Great," he enthuses, turning on the t.v. and turning to wink
at Sarah, his grin suddenly slipping as he takes a second look
at her. "Wait, wait .... " Frowning, he drops the remote control
on the seat beside him and stares at her assessingly. "There's
something wrong with this picture."
"What?" Sarah asks, turning to look at the flickering t.v. screen.
"What's wrong?"
"It's you," Ed says firmly. "You can't watch surfing movies dressed
like that!"
Sarah looks down at her grey suit jacket and pants. "What's wrong
with the way I'm dressed?"
"It's too .... responsible-looking. And your hair .... " Ed reaches
out and swiftly takes the pins holding her hair together in a bun at
the back. As her hair falls down past her shoulders, he reaches
out to muss it with his hands, letting its natural waves spring free.
"Ed!" Sarah protests, raising a hand to try to stop him, but he
ducks out of her reach and leans back to study her again.
"There, that's better," he says with satisfaction, and grabs her hand
in his to pull her up off the couch. "Here .... " He tugs her over to his
closet, opens the door, and quickly surveys his wardrobe, pulling
out a brightly-colored beach shirt. "We can't do anything about the
pants, but we can do something about the rest of it. Duck into
the bathroom, take that jacket and shirt off, and put this on."
"You want me to wear *that*?" Sarah asks, staring at the huge
shirt. "Why?"
"Because you can't truly appreciate a surfing movie when you're
dressed like a corporate executive," he says with exaggerated
patience. "Or a scientist. You look like one of those stuffy, serious
scientists I knew in college who never had any fun." Taking
her by the shoulders, he steers her gently in the direction of the
bathroom.
"Maybe that's because I *am* one," she argues, turning around to
look up at him as he pushes her along.
"Not any more, you're not," Ed says, propelling her the last
few steps into the bathroom and shoving the shirt into her hand.
"Now change," he orders, and shuts the door firmly in her face.
Turning back, he finds Shane and Trevor staring at him with
fascination, and he grins back at them unrepentantly. "No one
can watch a surfing movie dressed in a suit," he informs them,
walking back to step over Shane and take his seat on the
couch. "It takes away from the whole experience. The beach,
the sand, the surf .... it's all part of an alternate lifestyle, and
suits don't cut it."
Shane and Trevor exchange a covert glance and look back
at the bathroom door expectantly. Minutes later, Sarah emerges,
tugging ineffectually at the sides of the huge shirt that envelops her
and hangs almost to her knees. "It's a bit big," she says doubtfully,
looking down at herself. "And colorful."
"It *is* big, but it looks nice," Trevor says encouragingly.
"You look nice."
"I do?" Sarah pats the shirt in place, looking at Ed for confirmation.
"I don't look foolish?"
"You look .... " Ed, staring up at her, takes a deep breath as
he feels his heart shift. Her slight frame lost in the huge shirt,
Sarah looks like a teenager instead of the prim dominant he'd
met just four days ago. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair falls
around her shoulders in a cloud of curls, and her eyes are
bright with uncertainty. "Great," he says slowly. "You look great."
"You're sure?" Sarah rocks back on her heels a little, looking down
at the shirt. "It feels so strange," she says with a frown. "Not at
all like what I usually wear."
"Strange is good," Ed says, taking another deep breath and
trying to come to terms with this new and different Sarah. He'd
caught glimpses of her during the time they spent in her small
holding room, but she'd been too tense and unhappy to let go
like this before. Not that she was the life of the party now, he
rationalized to himself. She just looked .... different. Cute.
Ed patted the cushion beside him on the couch encouragingly.
"Come on .... now that you're dressed properly, we can start the
movie."
Reaching for the remote, he waits until she's sitting down beside
him and then starts the tape. "Now take notes, guys," he says with
mock sternness. "There'll be a pop quiz afterwards."
"A pop quiz?" Trevor asks curiously, turning to look up at him.
"Yeah, you know .... names of the main actors, who does
what when .... " Ed flashes Sarah a grin and tugs her back on
the couch to relax against the cushions. "You've got to know
this stuff if you're going to be a true surfing movie aficionado."
"Is he really going to give us a test?" Trevor asks Shane in
a hushed voice, his brow drawn down in a frown. "Maybe we
should take notes."
"He's kidding, Trev," Shane reassures him, stretching out on
the floor. "You know, human humor. Tom warned us about
him, remember?"
"Oh." Trevor ducks his head a little, biting back a smile.
"Right."
"He warned you about what?" Ed demands.
"About your jokes," Sarah says matter-of-factly. "He warned me too."
"He did?" Ignoring the movie, Ed shifts on the couch to face her.
"Just what did he say?"
"That you take a little getting used to," she answers with a small
smile. "But that you're worth it in the end."
"He .... " Ed sputters to a stop as he hears the end of her statement.
"He said that?"
All three nod at him solemnly.
"Oh," Ed says. "Well, then .... " Feeling his face flush with
unexpected pleasure at Tom's words, he turns back to the screen.
"I guess that's okay." Focusing on the movie at last, he nods his
head with satisfaction. "Now, pay attention, there's one of the
main characters, played by Barbara Eden .... "
"Who?" Trevor asks curiously.
"Barbara Eden," he repeats patiently. "You know .... 'I Dream of
Jeannie''s Barbara Eden? I know she doesn't look the same
without her harem outfit and that veil, and her hair's a different
color, but still .... "
Trevor and Shane glance back at him blankly, and a quick look
at Sarah's puzzled expression convinces Ed that none of them
know what he's talking about.
"Okay," he sighs. "Maybe you *should* start taking notes .... "
~*~*~*~
"You wanted to see me, sir?" David asks, stepping into Harris
Templeton's office.
Harris doesn't answer, his back to David as he stands at the
window behind his desk, staring out into the early evening dusk.
"The Bakers are gone, David," Harris says finally, his back to him.
"You'll have to adjust the plans for the trial accordingly."
"Gone, sir?" David stares at him. "I don't understand."
"You don't need to." Harris turns around to face him, his expression
closed and distant. "This trial is now about Roger Abbott and Roger
Abbott alone. I expect you to inform the Council members of that
and delete all mention of the Bakers in the trial proceedings."
"Sir .... " David hesitates. "Their crimes are intertwined. It will
be difficult to present the charges without mentioning the Bakers'
involvement."
"Do it," Harris flatly. "Focus the charges on Abbott's work as
Tom Daniels' spy. Whatever evidence you present in connection
with the attack on Daniels' apartment will not mention the Bakers.
Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Report to Tilton as soon as your preliminary plans are in order."
Harris turns away again abruptly. "Dismissed."
Mystified, David lets himself out of the office, shutting
the door behind him. Just before Harris had turned away,
David had seen a rare flash of anger and frustration in his
eyes .... clearly, whatever had happened had not been
Harris' choice.
David glances up and down the hallway, empty now that most
of the staff members have gone home for the day. He needs to
find out what has happened, and there's only one person
he can think of other than Harris who can tell him .... Robert
Tilton.
~*~*~*~
"Wear the black shirt," Sloan calls out from the bathroom.
"The one I bought you when I was out shopping for the boys."
Tom searches through the closet, filled mostly with Sloan's
clothes, to find the black silk shirt Sloan had showed him, her
face flushed with pleasure, when she'd arrived home from the
stores. "Why are we doing this?" he asks as he pulls it off the
hanger and unbuttons the top button. "There's no one here
to see what we look like."
"We're doing this because we're on a date, remember?" Sloan
says patiently, her voice muffled. "Even if we stay in, it's
still romantic to dress up." There's a moment of silence as she
struggles with something in the bathroom, and then Tom can
hear her voice floating out again. "After all the trouble that Ellen
and Ed and the boys went to, I want this to be perfect."
Tom nods silently to himself, pulling off his sweater and donning
the shirt, its smooth fabric sliding against his skin.
"How did Shane sound when you called Ed's place?" Sloan calls
out.
"Good." Tom sets his sweater down on a stool Sloan had left
in the closet and begins buttoning up his shirt cuffs. "He says he
told Trevor some of what's happened."
"Do you think they'll be okay tonight?" Sloan stops making rustling
noises in the bathroom, and her voice sounds worried. "Maybe
having them stay at Ed's isn't such a good idea, not when they're
feeling so unsettled."
"I asked Shane if he wanted us to come over and get them, and he
said no." Tom tucks his shirt into the waistband of his black pants.
"Ed's ordering in pizzas, and Shane says Trevor's excited about
some movies Ed wants to show them. He promised to call
if there's any problem, but he sounded determined to stay."
"If he's sure .... " Sloan says uncertainly.
"Apparently he and Trevor were both in on Ellen and Ed's plan to
give us this date," Tom reassures her, emerging from the closet.
"Trevor even helped with the cooking. They both want us to have
this, Sloan."
"Okay." Sloan's voice is muffled again. "I'll just be a minute
or two."
"Take as long as you want," Tom says easily. "I'll go check on the
mushrooms."
"I've just got to get this .... " Sloan breaks off, muttering under
her breath, and Tom smiles to himself as he heads out into the
kitchen. Sloan had been filled with excitement since the moment
they'd read the notes Ellen and Ed had left them, flitting around the
apartment to admire the arrangements of flowers and candles, and
pulling him with her into the new rooms to admire the work Shane
and Davey had done. She had poked around the kitchen next,
lifting the lids off the two pots on top of the stove to discover boeuf
bourguignon simmering in one and long-grained rice cooking in the
other. Her biggest thrill had come when she'd opened the fridge
and discovered the dessert .... full of whipped cream, strawberries,
and chocolate shavings, it had entranced her and she hadn't been
able to resist sampling both the whipped cream and the chocolate.
Tom had watched indulgently as she had grinned up at him from her
hunched position in front of the fridge, and he'd felt grateful to Ellen
and Ed and the boys for making her look relaxed and happy for the
first time in days.
Reaching the oven, he opens its door and bends down to check
on the stuffed mushrooms. "I think they're done," he calls out,
reaching for the pair of oven mitts Ellen had left out and pulling out
the tray.
"Oh good," Sloan says, emerging from the bathroom. "So am I,
I think."
Tom glances up at her and pauses in mid-step to stare at her.
Sloan stands at the top step of the bedroom doorway, dressed
in a simple, floor-length black silk dress, her shoulders bare
except for the dress's two thin spaghetti straps and her skin
smooth above the neckline that dips down between her breasts.
She looks tall and elegant, and as she pirouettes for him, he
catches a glimpse of high-heeled black shoes and black
silk stockings. The dress bares her back almost to her waist,
revealing the smooth curve of her spine, and her hair falls loose
around her shoulders in a halo of curls. "How do I look?" she
asks a little nervously.
"Beautiful," he says slowly, setting the tray down on the wooden
block sitting on the countertop and taking off the oven mitts. "Too
beautiful to waste on just me."
"Oh, but that's the romantic part of it," she says, watching
him walk over to her and stepping down to meet him halfway.
"Dressing up just for you." She smoothes her hands over the
silk clinging to her hips. "I've never bought anything this
extravagant before," she confesses. "I've never had the need
to. But I saw this when I was out shopping last week, and the
minute I spotted it .... " She gives a small shrug and
smiles at him. "I knew I wanted you to see me in it."
Tom reaches out to tuck a curl back behind her ear and touches
the small, simple diamond drop earring she wears. "I'm honored,"
he says softly.
"So, here we are," she says, smiling at him. "On a date."
"So we are." Tom glances back toward the kitchen. "The
mushrooms are ready, and the wine's set out. Do you want
to have them in front of the fire?"
Sloan hesitates, glancing over at the fireplace and then back at
him. "Will you dance with me first?"
The blue in his eyes deepening, Tom takes the last step toward
her, slipping his one arm around her waist and taking her hand
in his. Drawing her against him, he begins to move with her to the
rhythm of the soft music in the background, his cheek resting
against hers. Sloan breathes in the scent of him, turning her
face more closely against his, and he tucks their joined hands
between them. "I've dreamed about this so many times," she
murmurs. "Being together this way, just the two of us, dancing
in the candlelight." She chuckles softly. "I wasn't even sure if you
*could* dance, but I hoped."
"It was part of our training," Tom murmurs. "They wanted us to
fit in, so we had lessons on how to dress and act in any
situation."
"No way," she says, pulling back a little to look at him, her
eyes bright with laughter. "They taught you how to dance?"
Tom nods, the grave look on his face belied by the humor
in his eyes. "An hour every Wednesday afternoon in our final
year. We learned all the dance steps, including .... " Sliding
his arm around her waist, he dips her gently back, smiling
down into her eyes. " .... how to dip."
Sloan, a little breathless at the feel of his strong arm holding
her in place, laughs as he lifts her back up. "I can't imagine
a room full of chameleons doing this with their trainers watching."
"At the time, we took it very seriously," Tom says, tucking her
body against his. "We were even taught how close to hold the
person, depending on our mission."
"And did you hold the women trainees as closely as this?"
she asks, fitting her chin against his shoulder and closing
her eyes.
"Only when instructed to do so," Tom says, a hint of a smile
in his voice. "But none of them felt like you", he adds, sliding
his hand across her bare back and turning his face
into her hair. "Or smelled like you."
"I'm glad," Sloan murmurs. "I'd hate to think I had competition,
even in your past."
"Never." Tom drops a small kiss on her shoulder and feels
her murmur contentedly.
The piece of music ends, but they keep dancing, drifting slowly
together, as the next one begins.
"We should eat, I suppose," she says softly, tilting her head
to kiss his ear. "The stuffed mushrooms will get cold."
"There's a salad in the fridge too." Tom tightens his hold
on her. "You didn't see it because of the dessert, but it's
there, behind it."
"Then we should definitely stop." Sloan curves her hand up
behind his neck to smooth her fingers through his hair. "Ellen
went to so much work."
"We'll stop," Tom agrees. "As soon as this piece ends."
Minutes later, the soft strains of music die out, and Tom and
Sloan pull back to look each other, not willing to let go. Another
piece of music begins, and Sloan smiles at him hopefully.
"Just one more?"
"Just one." Tom pulls her close and Sloan slides both arms
up around his neck, fitting herself to him as he begins
to move. "Or maybe two .... "
~*~*~*~
"How is it going?" Sam asks, sticking his head in
Marcus' doorway.
"It's not," Marcus says ruefully, looking up from his
computer terminal. "I just keep writing sentences and
then deleting them." Shoving himself back from his
desk, he shakes his head with frustration. "How do I tell
them all what I've done and still hope to have any
chance of retaining their support?"
"You tell them the truth and then give them time to
think it through." Sam steps into the office, shutting
the door behind him. "Hopefully they'll understand."
"The way you did?" Marcus asks wryly, regretting his
words the moment he'd spoken them as Sam flushes
uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Sam .... I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not? We both know I didn't take it very well."
"You had every reason not to." Marcus slumps back in
his chair slightly, staring at his computer screen.
"I betrayed you for years, if not by deed, then by omission.
I should have told you as soon as I knew that I could
trust you."
"Why didn't you?" Sam, who had been pacing
the length of the room, stops and turns to look at Marcus.
"Why couldn't you have just come to me and told me
the truth, Marcus?"
"I wanted to." Marcus rubs the back of his neck wearily. "I
can't tell you how many times I started to. But I always
came up with a reason to stop."
"Why?"
Marcus shrugs slightly. "I could rationalize it a number
of ways, but in the end, I knew it was because of the
people I'd had killed." He looks up at Sam with apology
in his eyes. "I knew that you'd known some of them ....
that you'd grown up with their children. How could you
forgive me for that?"
Sam nods his head slowly, shoving his hands in his
pockets as he stares down the floor. "They're all I've
been able to think about since Ed showed me your file."
"I'm responsible for their deaths, and there's no way
even now that I can make you understand why I did it,"
Marcus says heavily. "Not when you grew up insulated
inside the movement. You don't know what it was like
to live the kind of life that I did."
Sam looks up at him with a sudden flash of frustration
on his face. "I'm tired of people using that as an excuse,
Marcus," he says flatly. "First Martin, now you .... even
Tom thinks that way. It's as though you all assume that
those of us who lived inside the movement and kept it
running had an easy existence while you were the ones
fighting for your survival."
"Sam ...." Marcus begins, startled at the unaccustomed
anger in Sam's voice.
"Do you *know* what we were doing while you were being
courted by the Council and Martin was growing up in
suburbia?" Sam demands. "We were living a hand-to-mouth
existence in a series of safe houses, never knowing when
we'd be picked off, one by one, by Council agents. Even
the children were in danger, and when my brothers and I
were young, my parents would hide us when strangers
came around."
He cocks his head, meeting Marcus' gaze intently. "And
then *you* came. And suddenly people started disappearing
.... good people who were fighting to keep us all alive. We
knew they were being killed off, but we didn't know who was
betraying them. I was afraid that my parents would be next,
and while they didn't say anything, I know that they were too.
So don't tell me about how I've been insulated from life. I'll
accept a lot from you, but not that."
Marcus stares at him silently and then drops his gaze
back down to his computer screen as Sam turns away
to walk over to the window and stare outside. "I'm sorry,
Sam," Marcus says finally, his voice low. "I remember what
things were like when I first joined the movement, but I
guess I didn't stop to think how it would affect someone
growing up in that kind of life."
"No, you didn't." Sam keeps his back to Marcus, trying
to calm himself down and marshal his thoughts.
"So where do we go from here?" Marcus asks quietly.
"Do you plan to resign?"
Sam turns to look at him, leaning against the windowsill,
his hands once more in his pockets. "The last time we were
in this room alone together," he says slowly, "you told me to
make a choice .... either work with you or step aside. I chose
to work with you to see this crisis through, but if you'd pressed
me for a final decision then, I don't know what I would have told
you. I couldn't see myself trusting you again after what I'd
learned."
He hesitates. "I can't forget about those dead men and women.
I don't think I ever will. But you were right .... the revelations about
your past don't change the good work you've done. You've put your
life into this movement, and I still believe you're the best man to
lead us. You know people .... you understand them in a way that
I never could, and you inspire them."
He shakes his head. "I can't promise you that things will be the
same between us. Too much has happened. But I'm willing to
stand behind you tomorrow when you make that speech, and for
as long as you want after that. We're doing good work here,
Marcus. I don't want that to end because of what's happened."
"Neither do I." Marcus stands up, holding out his hand
diffidently. "This movement wouldn't be what it is without you."
Sam steps forward and the two men shake hands silently,
Marcus gripping Sam's hand tightly before letting go.
"I should go and let you work," Sam says, stepping back. "I
just wanted to check in with you before I left."
"Go home and get some rest," Marcus agrees, dropping back
down in his chair. "You deserve it .... you've worked hard the
last few days."
"So have you," Sam points out, walking over to the door. "Try to
get some rest yourself."
"I will," Marcus says, reaching for his keyboard and then
stopping, his hands poised over it. "Sam .... before you leave .... "
Pulling the door open, Sam glances back at him.
"I want you to know," Marcus says carefully, "that those people
who died ..... who were killed because of me .... are never far from
my mind. I see their faces before me every time I make a major
decision. Everything I've done, I've done for them, as much as
for anyone."
Sam looks at him silently for a moment before bowing his head
slightly and leaving, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Pulling the keyboard in front of him, Marcus focuses his gaze
on the screen and begins to type.
~*~*~*~
"How about you, Trevor?" Ed calls out from his small kitchenette.
"Two scoops or three of the M&M's?"
"Two, please," Trevor answers, rubbing his stomach. "I think
I had a little too much pizza."
"There is no such thing as too much pizza," Ed admonishes him
with a wave of his ice cream scoop. "Come and help me get the
rest of the dessert ready. That way you'll work off enough energy
to make room for that extra scoop."
"Okay." Trevor scrambles up off the floor to head for the
kitchen, and Sarah looks after him with concern. "Maybe he
should stop if he's full," she says doubtfully, and glances back
at Shane. "He could get sick."
Shane doesn't respond, staring instead at the ending credits to
the movie with a distracted air.
"Shane," Sarah says, reaching down to touch his shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
"What?" Shane jerks around at her touch, looking confused for
a moment, and then flushes apologetically. "I'm sorry .... I
guess I drifted off there for a moment."
"That's okay." Sarah looks at him tentatively. "I know you've
had a difficult day today .... it would be hard not to be distracted."
Shane narrows his gaze and then smiles at her ruefully. "Mrs.
Peabody told you to watch out for me, didn't she?"
"She was worried about you," Sarah admits. "But it's not
just that. Ed told me a little about what's happened today
with your parents, and I couldn't help but hear part of your
conversation with Tom when he called here."
"Oh." Shane draws his legs up under him, sitting cross-
legged. "Then you know what I did."
"I know enough to know it must have been very hard for
you."
Shane ducks his head for a moment, and then looks up at
her. "Tom and Sloan told me what's been happening to you,"
he says. "It sounds as though the last day or two have been
hard on you too."
Sarah nods slowly. "I think that's why Ed asked me here
tonight, to watch out for me." She looks up at Shane with
a faint smile. "He .... what does Ed call it? .... he 'fusses' over
me the way Mrs. Peabody fusses over you."
Shane grins briefly, and Sarah's smile widens in turn. "I guess I
feel guilty being here," Shane confesses. "With what's happened
with my parents, it feels wrong to be enjoying myself, even for a
little while."
"What would you have done if you'd stayed home?" Sarah asks.
"Kept to myself, I guess .... thought about what I'd done."
Shane shrugs slightly, and then smiles faintly. "Mrs.
Peabody would have called it brooding."
A burst of laughter in the kitchen has them both glancing
up at Ed and Trevor, who are topping the bowls of ice
cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream out of
a can. Shane and Sarah smile back at each other. "It's
better that we're here," Shane says. "Tom and Sloan
need the time together, Trevor's having fun, and I guess
I need a break too. It still feels funny, though."
"I know what you mean." Sarah smoothes down the hem
of Ed's beach shirt absently. "I keep thinking I should be
working .... catching up on all the time I lost. Or doing
something constructive." She looks at him with confusion.
"I'm not really used to just .... enjoying myself. I don't
know how."
"I think it's a human thing," Shane says, his eyes
crinkling a little with humor.
Sarah nods slowly, her gaze straying over to Ed. "They're
not at all like I expected," she confesses.
"They aren't, are they?" Shane watches as Ed helps
Trevor top the last bowl of ice cream with cherries and nuts.
"They're not afraid to show their emotions, good and bad.
But I don't think it weakens them, the way the Council always
said it did." He looks at Sarah almost apologetically. "It makes
me feel good when Sloan tells me that she cares about me.
And I like being able to care about her and Tom without worrying
about what people will think. Before, at home, I had to hide how
I felt about Trevor."
"I've never wanted to feel emotions," Sarah says slowly. "Because
of my birth status .... " Realizing what she'd just said, she flushes
awkwardly and casts a wary glance at Shane, but he stays silent,
listening to her intently. "Because of my background," she corrects
herself, "I didn't think that it was safe to let myself feel things.
But with what's happened to me, it's been hard not to, and now
that I have .... it's made me see things a little differently."
"Including humans?" Shane asks perceptively.
Sarah nods, looking up to see Ed and Trevor approaching.
"Including humans," she echoes quietly.
"Here we are," Ed says cheerfully, carrying a tray filled with
three large bowls of ice cream. "Are you sure you don't want
one of our ice cream specials, Sarah?"
"Yes," Sarah says hastily, holding her hand up in front of her.
"The popcorn and pizza were enough for me."
"Chicken," he says good-naturedly, and hands a bowl of ice
cream to Shane. "This one's for you .... Trevor, you sit down
and I'll give you yours .... and this one" -- he settles a bowl
on the arm of the couch next to his seat -- "is for me."
Setting the empty tray down next to the couch, he moves over
to kneel in front of his t.v. "Now that we're all set, are you
ready for .... 'Endless Summer'?!" he says with a flourish, holding
up another videotape.
"More surfing?" Trevor asks eagerly.
"You bet." Ed sticks the tape into the vcr and activates it. "After
this we've got 'Endless Summer 2', and then I thought we'd go
through the channels to find an old episode of 'I Dream of Jeannie',
just to let you know the things you've been missing."
"That's the one with the harem girl in it, right?" Trevor asks,
licking his spoon.
"You got it, champ," Ed says, plopping down on the couch
next to Sarah and reaching for his bowl of ice cream. "Watch
and learn."
~*~*~*~
"This is the list of people who have been contacted,"
David says, reaching across his desk to hand Robert
Tilton a thin file. "There were five we couldn't get in touch
with .... we'll keep trying and will notify you as soon as
we have."
"Everyone is expected to attend," Tilton says officiously.
"No exceptions will be tolerated."
"I'm well aware of that," David says mildly. "All five are
on assignment, however. We won't hear from them until
they check in with their contacts."
Tilton opens the file and scans the list quickly. "Have
arrangements been made in the main meeting hall?"
"They have. Extra seats will have to be brought in to
accommodate the number of people coming .... Patrick
is arranging for that now."
Lifting another file from his desk, this one much thicker,
David passes it across the desk to Tilton. "We've also
prepared an outline of procedures for the trial. We've
had to make last-minute adjustments to the case now
that the Bakers have been released." Dropping his eyes to
the pages in front of him after glimpsing a thinning of
Tilton's lips, David continues. "It's going to take time
to make sure that our evidence against Roger doesn't include
any mention of them."
"Mr. Templeton's orders are that you work all night if
you have to," Tilton says, going through the file
methodically. "The trial has to begin on schedule."
"I agree," David responds. "Harris needs this trial to come
off well considering the problems he could face once word
of the Bakers' release leaks out."
"There will be no leaks." Tilton tightens his hold on the file,
and David senses a flare of impatience and frustration.
"The Bakers are gone. Mr. Templeton expects that to be
an end to it."
"Come on, Robert," David protests. "Rumors have already
spread through the building about what happened with the
attack on Tom Daniels. When people find out the Bakers
were released, they'll ask questions."
"He did *not* let them go," Tilton says flatly. "If he'd
had his way, they would be going on trial with Abbott two days
from now, as they deserved to."
"He wasn't the one?" David looks at him in well-feigned
surprise. "But he would have the final say in their case,
unless the Head intervenes .... " David lets his voice trail
off for a moment, and gives Tilton a sharp look. "The Head
countermanded his orders, didn't he?"
Tilton meets his gaze stiffly and then looks down at the file
again, refusing to answer.
"I knew there were tensions between Harris and the Head,
but I hadn't realized how great they'd become," David says
as if to himself, looking down at his own set of files. "If
Harris doesn't stand firm, he could lose his hold on power."
"It is disloyal to talk about either one this way," Tilton
points out evenly, examining the procedural sheets. "I'm
surprised that you would dare."
"My loyalty is to Harris, as I'm sure yours is as well," David
says simply. "I hate to see him pushed aside when he is
clearly the best leader we have."
"Mr. Templeton will not be pushed aside," Tilton responds,
closing the file and looking up at David. "He is merely
following the Head's orders in this matter. Now, is there
anything else?"
"Not at this time .... I'll let you know as soon as the case
is completed and ready for review."
"I'll be waiting for your call." Tilton gets up from his chair
abruptly and crosses the room for the door, the files tucked
under his arm.
"One more thing," David says suddenly, his voice stopping
Tilton in the doorway. "Should I prepare a team to begin
surveillance on the Bakers now that they're out? Presumably
the Head and Harris will want them watched to see what they
do next."
"That won't be necessary," Tilton says, turning to look back
at David. "The Bakers are still in custody."
"They're in .... " David looks up at Tilton questioningly.
"Then they *weren't* released."
Tilton shakes his head, glancing out into the busy hallway.
"I'm relieved to hear that," David says, leaning back in his
chair. "After what they'd done, the thought that they'd get
away with it without being punished had me concerned."
"Oh, they won't get away with it," Tilton says evenly,
looking back at David. "Not by the time Lewis' men are done
with them."
~*~*~*~
"I think I'm in heaven," Sloan sighs, leaning back against one
of the chairs in front of the fire and savoring the taste of
strawberries and chocolate on her tongue. Their dinner
done, they'd brought another bottle of wine and the dessert
to the small table in front of the fireplace and had spread out
cushions from the couch to sit on. Sloan had cast her shoes
aside, and her dress spreads out around her in silky waves.
"It's that good?" Tom asks, his shoulder brushing hers as he
turns to look at her.
"Better." Sloan smiles at him contentedly. "I've always loved
this dessert, and Ellen's done something special with it. Added
more curaçao, I think. Try one and see what you think."
Tom leans forward to select one of the liqueur-soaked berries and
tastes it. "Very nice."
"Nice?" Sloan echoes teasingly. "Very *nice*? This isn't just nice,
Tom .... this is *chocolate*. And big, ripe strawberries covered
with whipped cream. People have *fantasies* about desserts like
this."
Tom swallows the last of the strawberry. "Sloan, it's just a
dessert."
Sloan tilts her head, her smile dying away as she looks at him
thoughtfully. "Sarah said something to me once about your
species seeing food as fuel and nothing else. It was when she
was trying one of Ellen's cookies .... I'd swear she'd never tasted
chocolate before."
"She probably hadn't," Tom points out. "She's right
.... food is something we consume to maintain our health.
We don't have desserts."
"So if you were given the choice between chocolate and something
more nutritious, like an apple, you'd choose the apple."
"Of course .... it's better for you."
"And the chocolate?"
"I'd never had any until I met you," Tom says with a small
shrug. "And I'm not saying I don't like it .... I do. It's just that
the apple would be a better choice." Turning his head to look
at her, he raises his eyebrow quizzically. "Why are we talking
about apples, Sloan?"
"Because eating a dessert like this can be as romantic
and sensuous an experience as .... as wearing silk or
eating by candlelight." Sloan turns to him, curling her legs up
under her dress. "It's all about *sensations* .... about losing
yourself in the taste of something."
Tom smiles at her indulgently. "It is, is it?"
"Here." Sloan reaches out to scoop up a strawberry, swirling
it in the whipped cream and being sure to include a small
fragment of chocolate. "Try this."
Tom lifts his hand to take it from her, but she shakes her
head. "Eyes closed," she orders.
Humoring her, he closes his eyes and opens his mouth,
letting her feed the strawberry to him. "Now focus on the
taste," she says intently. "Hold it in your mouth and try to
experience the sweetness of the strawberry .... the richness
of the chocolate and the whipped cream."
Tom eats the strawberry slowly, absorbing the different tastes,
and opens his eyes when he's done to find her watching him
expectantly. "Well?" she asks. "Did it taste any differently?"
"It tastes better," he allows. "Richer."
"Good," she says with satisfaction. "Now .... " Reaching back
to the bowl, she takes one of the larger chocolate shavings
and uses it to scoop up some whipped cream. "Try this
on its own, without the strawberry."
Tom lets her feed him the chocolate and cream, keeping his
eyes closed and letting the chocolate lie in his mouth
for a moment as he focuses his senses on it. "It *is* good," he
says slowly, swallowing the last of it. "Very good."
"Now tell me you'd choose an apple over this," Sloan challenges
him with a grin.
"I surrender," Tom concedes, smiling back at her. "I'd choose
the dessert."
"Yes!" she said with triumph, her face lighting up with delight
as she claps her hands together.
"Unless it was the only food we had," he adds, his smile
deepening as he gently teases her. "Then I'd choose the
apple first, to keep us going. And I'd see if I could find other
apples."
"Ha," she says dismissively, turning to scoop up another
strawberry. "You can't backtrack now, Tom Daniels .... you
admitted you liked it, and I'm holding you to it. Here"
-- she swirls the strawberry in whipped cream and chocolate
shavings -- "have another one."
"Why don't you have this one?" he suggests, taking it out of
her hand and feeding it to her slowly. Sloan closes her eyes,
savoring its taste, and then licks her lips to catch the last of
the flavor. "I was right," she says with a sigh. "This is definitely
heaven."
"You missed a spot." Tom touches his finger to a tiny dab
of whipped cream at the corner of her mouth and wipes it off.
Sloan opens her eyes and watches as he licks his finger clean.
"Taste good?" she asks teasingly.
"Very," he agrees, his eyes darkening slightly as he watches
her gaze fall to his lips in sudden speculation.
"Tom," she says slowly, glancing over at the Strawberries
Romanoff and then back at him, her cheeks flushing pink as
she looks at him a little hesitantly. "Would you close your
eyes again?"
Tom looks at her questioningly, and her flush deepens.
"Please?" she asks quietly.
Tom closes his eyes slowly and hears the silk of her dress
rustle as she moves. "Open your mouth," she says softly,
and he obeys, feeling the coolness of a strawberry press
against his tongue. Biting off a small piece, he tastes both
the fruit and the whipped cream that clings to it, and then
he starts a little as he feels Sloan's breath on his face and
her lips kissing his gently. "It's just me," she whispers as
he goes still, and then she kisses him again, opening her
mouth against his and tasting him.
Tom brings his hand up to rest against the back of her
neck, holding her in place as he shares the strawberry
and cream with her. The kiss deepens as the last of the
fruit disappears, the two of them now savoring each other's
own unique taste, and Sloan leans into him for more, her
hand cupping his cheek. She still holds what's left of the
strawberry between her fingers, and he can feel its
coolness resting against his skin.
"That tastes even better," Tom whispers as she finally pulls
away just far enough to look at him.
"It does," she whispers back, her eyes roving over his face,
"doesn't it?"
Spotting a small trace of cream on his cheek where
she'd held the strawberry against him, Sloan leans forward
to touch her lips to it, licking it off gently. Pulling back,
she examines him and then leans in again to catch another
small dab on the other side with her tongue.
Tom keeps his hand on her neck as she moves and waits
for her to pull back before kissing her again, lingeringly. Then,
reaching down, he takes what's left of the strawberry out of
her hand and raises it up to her mouth. "Close your eyes,"
he says softly. She obeys, feeling her senses heighten with
anticipation, and then she can feel the berry pressing against her
lips and she opens her mouth to take it in. Tom's lips
follow the berry's path and he's kissing her softly, exploring
her mouth with delicate touches of his tongue and sharing the
fruit and the dark taste of the chocolate with her.
When the kiss finally ends, Tom pulls back, his finger
trailing a path down the side of her cheek and back to
her earring, coming to rest just below her earlobe. Sloan
studies him for a moment, her breath coming a little faster,
and then she looks away from him just long enough to dip
her finger into the dessert, trailing it through the whipped
cream. When it's covered, she brings it back up to smooth
down the side of her neck, its creamy coolness making her
shiver with sensation. Tom watches her trace the cream
along her skin, arching her head back slightly, but he doesn't
move until her finger reaches the base of her neck and
slowly drifts away.
Then, leaning forward, he presses his mouth against her
jaw. Her hair brushes against his face as he moves, and
she arches further as he slowly follows the trail of whipped
cream, touching it at times with his lips and at others with
a soft sweep of his tongue.
Their moods have both changed. Gentle teasing has
turned to a languorous desire filled with heightened
sensations and a new level of emotional awareness.
Tom closes his eyes as he rests his lips against the
base of her throat. They've been through so much
together .... have felt so much love for each other ....
but they've never had the time to just let themselves
go with no worry of threat or interruption. He wants
to spend hours lingering over her, learning from her
and teaching her what he knows. Taking a deep breath,
he draws in the scent of her and then pulls back to let
her take the next step.
Sloan dips her finger into the cream again and brings it
back, this time trailing it along the line of her right shoulder, her
thumb gently sliding the thin strap of her dress off to the
side. She waits patiently as he watches her, seeing the
love and need in his eyes and feeling her own need grow
as he moves toward her, his hand curving around her waist
and his mouth coming to rest at the base of her neck.
Just the feel of his lips on her skin is enough to send
her head back again, her eyes closing as she focuses in
on his touch. He steadies her with his hand and drifts his
lips across her shoulder, following the path of whipped cream.
At the edge of her shoulder, he rests his mouth on her skin,
his free hand reaching up to slide the silk strap farther down her arm.
Sloan waits until he pulls back before reaching for more
whipped cream and tracing a path across her left shoulder,
her hand easing the silk strap aside. Her dress dips slightly
in front with her movements, revealing more of her creamy
skin and the hollow between her breasts. Tom obeys her
unspoken request, leaning forward to press his mouth
against her throat and then slowly tracing the path of cream,
savoring the taste of her as he goes. Reaching the end of
her shoulder, he pauses, shifting hands to keep one
still braced behind her back and the other on the side of her
arm, taking the strap in his fingers and drawing it down gently.
Tom pulls back, his breathing deepening, and waits as
she reaches one last time for the cream, her green eyes
dark with desire for him. Tom follows the path of her
finger with his gaze as it dips down to a spot just above
the neckline of the dress, and watches her dab the cream
where the hollow between her breasts begins. Letting her
hand drop away, she watches as he bends his head down,
his hair brushing against her as he rests his lips on
her skin. Lifting her hand to cup the back of his head,
she presses him gently to her, and he murmurs deep in
his throat as he licks up the cream. They rest there for
a moment, cherishing the moment and anticipating what's to
come, and then he slowly straightens up.
Both gaze into each other's eyes, and Sloan glances
again at the bowl of strawberries and whipped cream
before looking back at him.
"What about your dress?" he asks huskily.
A small smile curves her lips, and she leans forward to
touch the curve of his throat through the open neck of
his shirt. "You'll just have to help me take it off," she
says softly.
~*~*~*~
"They look so peaceful," Sarah says quietly, watching as
Ed leans forward to tuck the blanket on his bed under Trevor's
chin.
"They do, don't they?" Ed steps back to stand at her side,
looking down at the two boys. Both had fallen asleep in front
of the t.v. during the "I Dream of Jeannie" episode they'd finally
found after searching the dial, and he'd left them that way
until the episode had ended. Then, rousing them both gently,
he had led them over to his bed, digging the t-shirts and
shorts they'd brought to sleep in out of their knapsacks as Shane
helped a drowsy Trevor undress.
Sarah had stayed on the couch, her back to them to give
them some privacy, but had finally come over to watch as Ed
smoothed the blanket over the two boys and turned out the light
next to the bed. Both had fallen asleep again as soon as their
heads had hit the pillows.
"I'm surprised they stayed awake as long as they did," Ed
says softly, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. "They've
had a long day."
"It was probably all that sugar you fed them," Sarah observes.
"Or it could have been that they were having fun," she adds
diplomatically.
"What's this?" Ed asks, turning his head to peer down at her
expression in the dimly-lit room. "Did you just actually *tease*
me?"
Sarah flushes a little awkwardly, but can't bite a small smile.
"I think you've had a bad effect on me."
"Are you kidding?" Ed rocks a little on his toes, his hands still
in his pockets, a slow grin breaking out on his face. "I think it's
*great*."
Sarah's flush deepens as she looks up at him, and her feeling
of awkwardness increases. "I should go," she says, glancing
at the sleeping boys. "They need their sleep, and so do you."
Turning away, she takes a step toward the couch. "I'll just get
my things."
"Oh no, you don't," Ed says, slipping his hand in the crook of
her arm and walking her over to the sitting area. "It's too late for
you to be out at this time of night alone, and I can't leave the boys
here alone to escort you home. The couch makes a perfect bed
.... you take it, and I'll stretch my sleeping bag out on the floor."
"Ed, I'll be fine," Sarah says, gently trying to extract her arm.
"I've been trained to take care of myself."
"Yeah, yeah .... you're a dominant who could probably break me
in half like a twig if you wanted to." Ed leads her around to the
front of the couch and then looks down at her a little speculatively.
"Well, maybe not like a twig .... I think I'm a bit big for that. But
the point is that I'm a gentleman, and a gentleman always sees
his date home once the evening is over. In this case I can't, and
so it makes sense for you to stay here."
"Date?" Sarah asks uncertainly, torn between looking at him and
the couch. "I thought you just had me over to help you with the
boys, and to keep an eye on me."
"This was a date," Ed says firmly, letting go of her to reach down
and pull all of the throw pillows to one end of the couch. "Not a
typical first date, I'll grant you, but a date." Turning, he walks over
to his closet and opens the door to pull out a small pile of blankets
and his well-used sleeping bag. "Here .... you take the blankets
and spread them out on the couch."
"Ed, I'm not sure .... " Sarah takes the blankets from him. "I mean,
it was nice of you to have me here, but .... " Holding the blankets
to her chest, she watches as he spreads his sleeping bag out nearby.
"We're colleagues .... "
"And friends," Ed says, standing up and heading back to the closet
to get himself a pillow. "And hopefully more, some day."
"More?" Sarah looks at him with bewilderment. "Ed, you don't understand.
We're different .... "
"Different how?" Ed turns to look at her. "Different as in different
outlooks on life? Different backgrounds? Hell, different species?
I know we are, but that can be a good thing, don't you think?"
"How?" Sarah asks helplessly.
"There has to be a reason why we got past all that early distrust."
Ed walks over to take the blankets from her and leans down to
spread them out on the couch one by one. "Why we were able
to connect while they were holding you in that room." Smoothing
out the last blanket, he straightens up to look at her, his eyes
warm and intent. "Why you had so much fun here tonight.
And don't shake your head, Sarah Fielding .... you had *fun*."
He grins at her. "You ate junk food .... you gossiped with the boys
about Mrs. P .... you even laughed once, I saw you."
Sarah looks away in confusion, but he brings her eyes back to
his by reaching out and taking her hand. "I like you, Sarah,"
he says, linking his fingers with hers. "And you like me. I've had
a good time here with you tonight, and I don't want that to end.
Stay here on the couch, I'll stay safely over there in the sleeping
bag, and in the morning, we'll take the boys out for breakfast."
Sarah hesitates, undecided but wanting more and more to give
in.
"I'll even lend you another one of my beach shirts to sleep in,"
he wheedles, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
"You have more of these?" she asks dubiously, glancing down
at the brightly-colored one she's wearing.
"A whole closetful." Ed cocks his head, smiling at her. "What
do you say?"
Sarah looks at him and then at the couch, and takes her hand
from his to reach down and pull up the top blanket. "Here,"
she says, handing it to him shyly. "Two blankets are enough
for me .... you should keep this one for yourself, in case you
get cold."
Ed's grin is blinding, and he takes the blanket from her with
one hand while snatching up her hand with the other. "Come
on .... let's go find you a shirt to sleep in."
~*~*~*~
"There's been no word other than that?" David asks intently,
frowning as he listens to the muted voice of an old colleague
on the other end of the phone line. "No confirmation as to
where they are?"
"None," the colleague says. "They've done this all without using
the usual channels. All I can tell you is that they have them."
David nods, looking up at a knock at his door and waving
Patrick Setter into his office. "Well, at least we know that
they'll be made to pay for what they've done."
"There's no doubt in my mind," the man says flatly. "The minute
their usefulness is over, they'll be dealt with."
"Good," David says, watching as Patrick walks up to his
desk, balancing a huge load of files in his arms. "I have to go
..... I appreciate the information."
"I'll see you at the trial," the colleague promises, and ends the
call.
"Problems?" Patrick asks, balancing a load of files in his
arms.
"Just gathering facts," David says briefly, hanging up the
phone and clearing space on his desk so that Patrick can set
the files down. "What's this?" he asks, checking the file labels.
"Mr. Templeton sent word that he wants more detail than you
provided in the original outline you gave Tilton."
"I thought he might." David checks his watch. "It looks like we'll be
here all night. Have you had anything to eat?"
"Not yet."
"Go down to the main floor and pick us up some food," David
tells him. "Then we'll sit down together and go through these
files."
Patrick nods silently and leaves the office, shutting the door
behind him.
Leaning back in his chair, David shuts his eyes, his thoughts
in turmoil. Tilton was right .... Lewis' men had the Bakers.
His colleague, a man he had met when he first came to work
at the Council offices, is highly-placed in the chameleon
school's support staff and had been present when the orders
had come down from the Head to take custody of the couple.
He didn't know why they were taken or where, and David
hadn't felt he could press him any more .... he'd called professing
concern that two such obvious traitors might be set free, and to
ask any more questions might raise suspicions. As it was, he'd
been reluctant to make the call at all, but the risk had been worth
it. Tom would want to know what had happened, the more detail
the better.
David reaches up to massage his forehead wearily. The strain of
keeping his thoughts and emotions hidden from Harris and the
others is taking its toll, and his head is pounding. He's been
getting very little sleep for the last few days and had hoped for
a quiet night tonight, but Harris' requests have put an end to that.
And now the news about the Bakers ....
David glances at his phone. He can't take time away from
the office to meet with Tom, but he should call him to let him
know what's happened. Or should he?
Remembering how pale Sloan had looked the last time he had
seen her, just after the attack on her apartment, and how weary
Tom had looked, he shakes his head silently. Those two need
a night to themselves .... the information on the Bakers can
wait until tomorrow.
~*~*~*~
"We didn't make it to the bed." Sloan turns in Tom's
arms, nestling her head against his neck.
"We didn't, did we?" he asks, a smile warming his voice
as he tightens his hold on her. The two of them lie in
front of the fireplace, pillows from the couch tucked behind
their heads and the afghan spread over them. Sloan's dress
lies in a silken heap nearby, Tom's clothes beside them,
and what's left of the bottle of wine and the dessert sit
abandoned on the small table they'd pushed out of the way.
The apartment is lit only by the light of the candles spread
throughout the living and dining room and by the light of the
fire, and the only sound is the crackling of the flames and
the soft strains of music still playing on the stereo. "Listen
to that," Sloan says softly. "It's so peaceful .... no phones
ringing, no one wanting our help or threatening us .... just us
and the music and the firelight."
Tom smoothes his hand over her bare back slowly. "This
is what you've needed, isn't it?"
Sloan nods her head slowly, her hair brushing against his
skin. "Sometimes it seems as though we've been running
since the day we met. There's always some crisis to deal
with or some meeting to go to. Lately I've caught myself
missing you even when we're in the same room together,
because there always seems to be other people there as
well who need you more than I do." She buries her face
against his neck. "Listen to me ..... I sound so selfish."
"Not selfish," Tom says soothingly. "Just human."
His choice of words makes him smile wryly to himself,
and he can feel Sloan give a small chuckle.
Tom shifts them both until they're lying on their side
facing each other, his arm still around her waist. "Sloan,
I've never had a life of my own," he says slowly. "I've
always done what other people ordered me to. Even
now, I'm doing what other people need me to do, or what
I feel I have to do to atone for my past." He reaches
up with his free hand to smooth his fingers against her
cheek. "I forget sometimes that I have a right to say no
.... that I can set aside time for myself, to spend with
you and with Shane and Trevor." He rests his hand on
the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbing gently over her
skin. "Maybe I need to start doing that more."
"But there *are* people who need you," Sloan says softly.
"Marcus and Sam, and David, and Walter and Ed .... they
all look to you for answers sometimes, or for help. And
it's not just you. I'm caught up in meetings myself all the
time, and when I get started on a project, the rest of the world
just disappears for me." Reaching out, she rests her hand on
his chest. "All I'm asking is that we save time for ourselves
sometimes."
Tom smiles at her gently. "You mean going out on dates."
"Or staying in." Smiling back at him teasingly, she leans in
to kiss him. "Ed or Ellen could take the boys, we could turn
off our cell phones and do something romantic .... "
"We could have more desserts," Tom suggests, his voice
deepening with a hint of laughter.
"Many, many more," Sloan promises with a grin, leaning in for
another kiss and tucking herself against him, her arm slipping
around his waist.
Tom rests his chin on her head as they both fall silent, his
hand stroking her back lazily. Sloan murmurs softly, and he
moves to press a kiss against her hair before lifting his head
back up. "Do you remember that night in the cabin?" he asks,
his voice soft. "When you asked me if I'd ever thought of having
a family some day?"
Sloan nods silently.
"At the time, I wasn't sure what I thought .... even the idea of
having a brother was so strange. But now, knowing what we
have here together, and that we have the boys waiting to come
back to us tomorrow -- "
"And the kittens," she reminds him, her mouth curving into a smile.
" -- and the kittens," he adds, smiling himself, "I realize that this is
what I want .... a family of my own."
Sloan pulls back to prop herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.
"It's not too much for you? I worry about that sometimes". She lifts
her hand to touch his chin, smoothing her finger along his jawline.
"You've led such a solitary life that I've wondered if we don't
overwhelm you."
"I do get overwhelmed at times," he admits. "But not for the reasons
you're thinking." He gives a small shrug as he struggles to explain.
"I get full of feelings that I can't express .... thoughts that I can't even
put into words for myself."
He reaches up to cup her cheek with his hand. "I've never
known what it was like to be happy, Sloan. I'm still have trouble
understanding what happiness is sometimes. But the feelings
I have for you and for the boys make me think that I finally have
it in my life." Raising his head, he kisses her gently. "You make
me happy, Sloan. And you make me feel loved."
Catching her breath on a sigh, Sloan leans down into his kiss,
her hair falling forward in a curtain around them. Her lips moving
over his, she tries to pour her soul and her love into him, and when
she finally pulls away, it's to keep his head cradled in her hands
and look down at him with eyes full of tears. "You *are* loved,
Tom," she whispers. "You always will be."
His heart too full for words, Tom kisses her again and pulls her
down against him, burying his face in her neck and feeling her
heart beat against his. He still has his past to sort out and his
future to decide, but tonight he has her in his arms, and that's
all he needs to be at peace.
The End
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