Legends Lost

Someone was speaking nearby. “Al-ʾamnī…al-ʾamnī…security. Got it. Taḥqīq…taḥqīq…investigation. No, that ‘ḥ’ sound should be deeper…”

Lee fought his way toward awareness, pushing air through a painfully raw throat. His surroundings were pitch-black. “’Manda?”

That was what he’d meant to say, anyway. It came out as a garbled croak, followed by a cool hand against his forehead.

“Shh, sweetheart. Shh. Just rest now.”

Yes, that was definitely Amanda.

“You’re in the hospital,” she continued. “No, don’t try to open your eyes yet. You’re going to be here for a while.”

At that, he tried to sit up. She pushed back. “Be still, Lee. You could strain yourself and undo everything they had to do.” Something clicked next to his ear, followed by a loud tone. “Yes, this is Amanda Stetson in 203, with Lee Stetson…he’s waking up, and it’s too soon, but he’s fighting me and —”

“Be there right away.” The other voice was muffled, as though it was coming through a speaker — and not a very good one, either.

“Lee, you’re not supposed to wake up yet. Lie down! You need to rest.”

There was pain now, everywhere, radiating all the way down to his toes, spiking in his right foot. It throbbed mercilessly, feeling cold and hot at the same time. Then there was the clunk of a door and something moving near his arm. He tried to yank the arm away, but something caught his wrist. A second after that, numbness began to replace the pain. Going back under!

“No,” he tried to protest, but it, too, came out as a wordless noise. And then he was pulled down into a deep, dark silence.

---

Billy Melrose opened the hospital room door as silently as he could in case anyone inside was sleeping. Amanda had been surprisingly calm when he’d called her yesterday afternoon, telling her to get to the hospital right away. That was a hopeful sign; a few months ago, after two members of her family were killed, she’d alternated between anger, remorse, and shutting down. Her performance had suffered pretty badly, too, though she’d since brought it back up to par.

Then again, yesterday’s calm could have been something else: the forced restraint of a mother holding it together for her child, or the white-knuckled determination of a wife who knew hysterics wouldn’t help her husband.

The room was mostly dark, but there was enough illumination to give him room to maneuver. Over in one corner, Amanda had pulled cushions from a couch onto the floor and was curled on top of them, wrapped in a blanket, her breathing slow and even. She was all right, then, at least for the moment.

Lee wasn’t.

A tangle of monitor wires and equipment lines surrounded him as he lay, face up and far too still, in the hospital bed. Pillows surrounded his head on all sides. Even in the muted light, Billy could see that his skin was an unhealthy gray, completely overwhelming the warmth of its usual tan. His eyes had been bandaged shut, his wrists were in hospital-soft restraints, and down one of his legs…

Oh dear God. No. He’d seen this in Korea. Please. Not that. Not him. Not here…

Clenching his teeth, Billy backed out of the room and made his way down to the nurse’s station. A quick flash of his badge got him a clipboard full of descriptions and medical jargon.

For a long moment, his mind resisted the idea that these words described his agent. His friend, the man he’d come to see as a surrogate nephew. The man he’d shepherded from wild maverick to seasoned operative with real leadership abilities.

A sharp breath and short shake of his head helped him push that away.

Billy flipped a page. The next one had X-rays on it, telling him more than the written descriptions ever could. He closed the clipboard with a snap, wishing he could put what he’d just seen out of his mind as easily, and then gently laid it back down on the desk for the nurse.

---

Francine Desmond yanked open the door with well more than the necessary force, sending it banging backward. She ignored it, striding through the opening before its first bounce was done. The receptionist in the bull pen took one look and scrambled back behind her protective desk. She didn’t even spare that a glance.

Damn him! She’d sat there for hours waiting, and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to make a phone call!

Arriving at her desk, she shoved her handbag into a drawer and slammed it shut. The sound echoed through the bull pen.

“Desmond!”

That barked word yanked her attention back. “What, Billy?” Despite trying to squelch her anger, the question came out somewhere between a snarl and a snap.

He ignored it, keeping his voice even. “My office, please, as soon as you have a chance.”

“I can do it now.” She hadn’t yet booted her computer. It could wait as she stood back up and made her way toward her field director’s office.

Billy stopped her at the door, motioning toward the coffee setup. “Get yourself a cup first. And take some deep breaths.”

She tried, leaning into the familiar ritual of preparing the coffee. Someone had brought in cheese Danishes, and she helped herself to one of those. She’d barely been able to eat since last night, and sooner or later, she knew, her body would remind her about that. Better to head it off now and stay in control of something, at least.

By the time she sat down in the chair across from Billy’s desk, she was even breathing normally again.

With a look she couldn’t quite decipher, he stood up and closed the door behind her. “Good morning to you, too, Francine.”

“Morning,” she replied. “It’s not good yet, though. In fact it’s been pretty bad.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

She blinked in surprise.

He was settling back into his chair, antacids in hand, and his face was grave. “There was supposed to have been a delivery yesterday: a computer code that the FBI was waiting on. It’d been passed to us from a source in Paris and the courier —”

Anger reared its head again. “You didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t. I wouldn’t have, not after the way the last time went down. But yes, they’d tapped Jonathan as a courier.”

It took a tremendous effort not to start swearing in a long, un-ladylike way. Whoever had made that decision was going to regret it. Deeply. “Again? He was in France to sign off on shipments and arrange their distribution back here! It wasn’t about intelligence at all.”

With a sigh, Billy took out his handkerchief and mopped his face. “That’s not quite all of it. I can’t tell you more, except that he was trying to help someone else while he was there.”

“Billy —”

“Damn it, I’d tell you if I could! But right now I don’t know any more than that. All I got was that he’s on a sensitive assignment, and it may run longer than expected. They wanted me to ask you if you knew anything, actually, and it sounds to me like you don’t.”

She forced herself to take a breath before answering. “No. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“He was under orders not to.”

“Who are ‘they’ and did they say anything else? Did you say FBI?” They weren’t usually involved in overseas activities.

“FBI and CIA. For once, the two of them seem to be working together. The only reason they contacted me is because they wanted me to know if you knew anything about Jonathan’s whereabouts. They also wanted to warn you that you might be under surveillance. Here, at home, or anywhere else. I’m supposed to caution you about that.”

“That I’m under surveillance? Come on, Billy, I’m an agent. I’m always being watched.”

His lips thinned. “I was supposed to ask you the question and issue the caution.”

“I have never known you to simply follow orders without further thought.”

“No. And I have some feelers out.” But then he sighed, sending the acrid smell of the antacids across the desk even as he reached for another one. “But right now I shouldn’t need to tell you to stay away from this thing. That’s not information talking. That’s experience.” He met her eyes. “You ought to consider it.”

She huffed a laugh. “Billy.” Did she really need to say more?

“I figured.”

Apparently not.

“But,” he continued, “I want your updates on the Bohannon and MELCHIOR cases by the end of the day. No excuses.”

“You’ll have them.” She stood up, making for the door. “I might need to ask Amanda if I can borrow those flying fingers of hers, though. Are they up in the Q-Bureau?”

Something in the quality of Billy’s silence got her attention and she turned back to see his face becoming even more grave than it had been.

“No,” he admitted. “No, they’re not, and they aren’t likely to be anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

He downed the fresh antacid he’d fished out. “Yeah. About them. You’re right. It really hasn’t been a good morning.”

---

Amanda had certainly had worse mornings recently. This one, however, wasn’t going to end up on her top ten list of favorites anytime soon. For the third or fourth time, Lee was fighting his way out of unconsciousness. Since the doctors were here now, they’d untaped his eyes and decided to let him wake up.

When her husband licked his lips and grimaced, she was right there with an ice chip. “It’s me, Lee. This’ll help.”

“Mmh,” he mumbled, closing his mouth and swallowing. His eyelids were fluttering.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. No one’s going to sedate you again.”

“Amanda?”

His voice was rough and scratchy, but to her it sounded as beautiful as church bells. “That’s right. I’m here.”

He screwed his eyes shut and then opened them. “Where am I?”

“In the hospital,” she told him, flashing a warning look at Dr. Sanchez. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Running,” he mumbled. “Almost to the road. Who hit me?”

“Nobody,” she told him, keeping her voice gentle. “You stepped on an anti-personnel mine.” The phrase felt as though it might burn her tongue. It still didn’t seem real.

At that, his eyes widened. “A mine? In D.C.?”

“Yes,” she told him. “In D.C. The Agency had to request the Army send a squad over from Fort Belvoir. EOD, I think they called them.”

“Explosive ordnance disposal.” His voice was getting stronger with every word, though it was still nowhere near its usual strength. “What —” he broke off and looked around, taking in both doctors. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Dr. Sanchez,” said one of them. “Orthopedic surgery. That’s Dr. Thomas. He’s an ophthalmologic surgeon. NEST brought us both in as specialists.”

“You’re surgeons? I needed surgery? For what?” He tried to sit up, but the loops securing his wrists stopped him. After a glance at the medical personnel, Amanda reached over to unfasten them.

He met her gaze with a shocked expression. “Restraints?”

Sanchez answered him calmly. “You kept coming out of the anesthesia, Agent Stetson, and you were disoriented. We needed to keep your head absolutely still and all the monitors in place.”

“How long have I been under?”

The doctor glanced at Amanda, who nodded.

“About forty hours,” said Sanchez.

He blinked again, narrowing his eyes. “You’re blurry. Why can’t I see you clearly?”

“Astigmatism,” said Thomas. “It’s normal after a retinal detachment.”

“And you had two,” added Amanda. “Both eyes.”

“When’s it going to go away?”

Thomas glanced at Amanda. “I’m sorry, Agent Stetson. It probably won’t. I’ll be referring you over for glasses.”

“Glasses? No, I don’t need glasses —”

“Lee,” said Amanda, fighting to keep her voice even. “Let the doctors explain everything.”

“Everything?” His voice went up a notch. “You mean there’s more?”

She couldn’t bring herself to answer, but she didn’t turn away. Wouldn’t. Not now. Lee needed her.

Sanchez picked up the thread again. “I’m afraid so. Can you feel your right foot?”

“Yeah. It’s tingly and cold, but…” Lee glanced down. “Why’s it wrapped up in bandages like that? What happened?”

“We tried,” said the doctor. “But we couldn’t save the front part of the foot.”

“Couldn’t save?” Lee’s voice rose to a shout. “What do you mean, couldn’t save? What did you do to me?”

Somehow, Amanda managed to push air past the lump in her throat. “They had to take it off, Lee. Not the whole foot. Your ankle’s fine. But —” she couldn’t finish.

“It’s called a Lisfranc amputation,” said Sanchez. “We removed everything back to the tarsometatarsals — the bones in the middle of your foot.”

“You —” his voice caught. “You cut off my foot?”

Amanda found her voice again. “They had to, Lee. They — they showed me the x-rays, told me how bad the damage was. Your toes were blown to shreds. There was no way they could be fixed.” She took a breath. “And the back part is still there. You’ll still be able to —” she had to stop and swallow. “Eventually. They can make you a prosthetic that will help you walk again.”

“How could you let them do this to me?” he snarled at her, his voice still at full volume.

She felt her temper beginning to fray. “Because it kept you alive! Half a foot’s a small price to pay for that!”

“Easy for you to say! Yours are still there!”

“Mr. Stetson —” began Thomas, but then the screeching of an alarm cut them all off.

“That’s enough,” said Sanchez firmly. He was already moving toward the IV. “Blood pressure’s spiking.”

“You said you wouldn’t sedate me —” But the medicine had already gone in, and it hit his system almost immediately. “Damn it. Damn you. All of you!” He fought all the way down to unconsciousness.

She didn’t have to watch any more. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Amanda turned and walked out of the hospital room, determined not to let anyone see her tears.

---

Nancy Zusterakos fought to keep from rolling her eyes in a place where someone could see, instead gesturing her companion through the next doorway. Chatter about Scarecrow and Sunlight was all over the place today, and she’d been sent here?

“This,” she told him, “is the film production unit. These folks are the ones who make ‘International Federal Film’ a reality.”

“It isn’t just a cover, then,” he replied. They’d briefly met a few months ago, when he’d first started the exchange assignment between the Agency and MI6, but until now he’d been working over at the State Department. This morning, Nancy had sheepishly had to ask him his name again: Douglas Trent.

“No,” she answered. “We put out maybe six or eight films a year. Mostly educational documentaries for the government and for local schools.”

“I see,” he said. “Do these employees know what IFF actually is?”

“Some of them, but not all.” She began guiding him past the myriad desks and cubicles. The layout wasn’t entirely unlike the bull pen several levels below it, but the noise level was totally different. People were barking into phones, there were several different clacking rhythms as multiple people used typewriters, and the occasional rattle of a film strip or clatter from a dropped canister added to the cacophony. Everyone gave the row of booths at the back a wide berth.

“What are those?” asked Douglas.

Nancy shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Sound booths,” came the answer from behind them. They both turned to look at the speaker, a young man about Nancy’s age.

He flushed a little at the sudden attention. “You know, for recording voice-overs and Foley and all that.” He hesitated, then stuck out a hand. “I’m Scotty Parker. One of the camera operators.”

Douglas shook; Nancy did not.

Scotty let his hand drop, nodding too quickly. “Right. Um.” His eyes flicked past her shoulder and then back again, as though he’d misplaced something. “If you want to see the booths, it’s better to go in from the front instead of the back. That way you’ll avoid the fluorescents along that wall. They aren’t balanced properly, and they’ll make you look —” he broke off, and the flush on his face deepened. “Not that you would, I mean, but —” he shifted his weight.

A lens cap promptly popped loose from the camera he was holding. It skittered across the floor, spinning before it came to rest against a filing cabinet.

“Sorry,” he blurted as he went after it. “It does that.”

Douglas smiled faintly as Scotty scrambled back upright. “An awkward situation, nonetheless.”

It was all Nancy could do to keep from rolling her eyes again. Damn it, she was supposed to be downstairs!

“As I was saying,” she continued, “while this isn’t our primary focus, the film studio part is completely real. That adds to the cover’s believability.”

“And apparently there is a market for the work,” commented Douglas. “Even if some of the — did that gentleman say he was one of the camera operators? — even if some of the staff are a tad clumsy.”

“Well, most of this group is usually out on shoots, so we don’t see a lot of them either upstairs or down. That pretty much closes out this floor. We can go out into the foyer and upstairs to some more of the offices now.” And that, she thought, was a welcome idea. The sooner this tour was over, the better.

“Of course,” murmured the MI6 agent, but there was still a glint in his eyes as he followed her through the door into the calm of the Georgetown foyer. “Lead on, Miss Zeta.”

She inhaled sharply. He hadn’t yet earned the right to use her code name. “Anyway. There’s a conference room just over there, and then let’s go up these stairs. For a long time, these offices were unused, but a couple of years ago the Agency ran out of space downstairs, so we brought a few operations up here.”

But not Francine’s, she reflected to herself. While both she and her partner had become regular visitors to the Q-Bureau during the crisis involving the HVA Irregulars, their desks were still in the bull pen. Francine had kept her head down yesterday — all focus, no talk — and she was doing the same thing today. Nancy had meant to ask her what was going on, but before she could, Mr. Melrose had interrupted with the order to show their visitor around. It was an all-too-obvious attempt to deflect Nancy’s attention, but it actually had sharpened it.

What are you working on down there? she wondered. And why can’t I help?

Author’s Notes:

• Anti-personnel mines (as opposed to anti-tank mines) are often deliberately designed to maim instead of kill, in an effort to overwhelm an enemy’s resources.
• In 1988, the most common treatment for detached retinas was scleral buckle surgery. Astigmatism, or blurry vision, is a common side effect.
• This diagram, originally sourced from Clinical Tree, shows the various types of partial-foot amputations.
• Neither of these links contain surgical or injury pictures.
• Foley reproduces everyday sound effects to add to media during post-production.

February 1988

Jonathan Stone told himself he wasn’t getting light-headed. He’d been in worse air than this, after all. Still, as he surreptitiously turned his watch so he could see, he reflected that it had been quite a while since he’d been around this much cigarette smoke. It stank more than he remembered, creeping into every nook and cranny of his surroundings.

He was definitely going to need a shower and a change of clothes before going over to Francine’s this evening. It’d been far too long since they’d seen each other, thanks to this trip, and he had taken time selecting special gifts to bring back — perfume, theater tickets, and a very large assortment of fine chocolates.

Jonathan shook his head. He sometimes still couldn’t quite believe that she’d actually given him a second chance, and he was determined to prove to her that she hadn’t made a mistake. This time, he was going to do it right.

A sharp rap on his left arm drew him out of his thoughts. “What your hurry?”

He dropped his arm without reading the watch, but he guessed it couldn’t be any earlier than 5:30. He’d only landed back in Washington four hours ago. He was due at his fiancée’s apartment in another hour.

They hadn’t even given him a chance to call her to let her know he’d landed. Instead, they’d grabbed him right there at baggage claim.

Next to him, his assailant — who hadn’t introduced himself, but had answered when the others called him Hamza — grinned, revealing a wide gap in his teeth. “End of day, yes? Got woman?”

Never give away more information than you have to. What you haven’t shared can’t be used against you or anyone else in your life. Francine had told him that once, and he remembered it now. His response was a simple shrug.

Of course, Francine could easily hold her own against small-time operators like the cell in this room, but then again, if these people knew he was engaged to a federal agent and not a film production assistant, his life would be instantly forfeit. As would the life of at least one other person, someone who was still relying on him to stay invisible. He had the necessary paperwork in his carry-on — concealed between the pages of a feasibility analysis — but things were still far from final. Better to play this card as close to the chest as he could.

He should talk to Francine first anyway. Rumors had a way of spreading like wildfire if they had even the slightest chance to get started.

Over in one dark corner, a knot of men were gathered around one of the biggest computers Jonathan had ever seen. They’d all been staring at its screen while one person manipulated the keyboard, and now a quiet cheer went up. It created enough of a distraction that he was able to successfully check his watch this time. 5:45.

Come on, he thought. It can’t take you that much longer.

Another person, who’d started out by introducing himself as Abu Ghadan, appeared at his elbow. With a word, Hamza was dismissed, and Jonathan now faced the apparent leader of this cell. Unlike Hamza, Abu Ghadan’s English was fluent. It was even cultured, suggesting he had received an education, and he was smoking an elegant Cuban cigarillo instead of the others’ cigarettes. But his motives weren’t any more honorable or aboveboard than the guard’s had been.

“You’ll be released in due time,” he told Jonathan in his vaguely transatlantic accent. “What’s your hurry?”

He shrugged again, hoping the gesture would conceal the roiling anger and fear he was feeling. “Hamza was right. I’m meeting someone for dinner this evening. She’ll be upset if I’m late.”

“We definitely can’t have that,” said Abu Ghadan. “When are you due to arrive and where?”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes.

In response, the other man laughed, but it wasn’t clear whether the laughter was based in delight or malice. “Keep your secrets, then, Stone. For as long as you can, anyway. And all the good it will do you.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

“If the information you gave us was valid, we’ll know in the next five minutes,” continued the militant leader.

“I didn’t give you any information,” snapped Jonathan before he thought better of it. “You took it from me.”

He had thought he’d felt eyes on him as he’d walked through the concourse, but when nothing happened, he’d chalked it up to paranoia. Then they’d intercepted him, moving quickly and quietly with a skill that ensured discretion. Once they’d gotten to this dark, airless room, they’d searched him thoroughly. Including his wallet, where they’d found the slip of paper.

Now, Abu Ghadan waved a hand. “A purely semantic difference.”

“It’s a damned important one!” he shot back. “I never should’ve let —”

“Enough,” the leader replied. While his tone was still silky-smooth, the smile had left his face and there was no doubting the steel underneath it. “But rest assured, if that’s what your conscience requires. Your participation was unwitting. If you hadn’t been selected as the courier, someone else would have. It makes no difference who actually brought this last code in. Just that we received it, and tested it, and that it is shown to be valid.”

“If that’s the case, then, why don’t you let me leave?”

The other man laughed again, and this time there was no doubt about the underlying harshness. “You know better than that, Stone. Or at least, you should since you’ve been in this situation before.”

That was quite true, but this time, at least, he’d thought he was being careful. As he’d exited the American embassy in Paris, thinking his part of the small operation done, a staffer had slipped this piece of paper into his cuff.

Somehow, though, Jonathan doubted these men were the intended recipients of whatever had been written on that piece of paper. He’d looked at it himself, but it had been nothing more than a long string of numbers and letters: some sort of code he couldn’t decipher, and that was probably meant for a computer anyway. It didn’t appear to fit any sort of mnemonic purpose.

He inwardly damned himself again for tucking the slip of paper into his wallet instead of carrying it in a less obvious place. When the cell had searched him, he’d pretended nothing about the slip of paper mattered, trying to pass it off as a receipt. Abu Ghadan had responded with a shake of the head and a tsking noise. The darker-skinned man wasn’t wrong, Jonathan reflected. A wallet was the first place anyone would look. Could you have been any more clueless, Stone? he thought to himself.

Unfortunately, it was now too late to worry about that.

From the corner, underneath a curtain of blue smoke that shone brightly under a hanging lamp, someone shouted. Then everyone seemed to be talking at once, and not quietly, either.

“Come, then,” said Abu Ghadan. His hand on Jonathan’s elbow was gentle, but there was no doubt that this was an order, not a request. Jonathan felt his heart sink. Just how much was he going to have to endure looking straight into the face of his failure? He shook his head, trying to memorize details of the diagrams and schematics that had appeared on the computer screen. Even a tiny scrap of information could be useful, once he brought this back to the proper authorities.

That was something he definitely intended to do. He was tired of being used by every intelligence-gathering operation he seemed to come across, and cleaning up this mess just might let him walk away for good.

Beside him, the cell leader had begun to nod. “Excellent. It seems, Mr. Stone, that your information was worth the price it cost us. Not just in money, but also in blood.”

So it had cost them, then, but at the moment, he couldn’t have cared less. That was Abu Ghadan’s worry, not his.

He sneaked another look at his watch. Incredibly, only five additional minutes had passed. He might make it home, through the shower, and over to Francine’s on time after all.

“You’ll let me go now,” he said, hoping his voice sounded firmer than he felt. “You don’t need anything else from me.”

“That’s right,” replied the other man, but then he signaled to someone behind Jonathan. “We have no need or use for you anymore.”

At the sound of metal-on-metal, he turned to see Hamza and one of the other guards standing there, bearing long, sharp, wicked-looking knives. That was when he understood: there was no time left. And nowhere he could run.

---

Lee Stetson ran like hell.

The time for a subtle or elegant exit had long since passed, although he had accomplished what he’d set out to do. He could hear the explosions behind him as the charges he’d planted went off, destroying this Stasi cell’s stockpile of smallpox virus without accidentally releasing any into the air. All he had to do now was get himself out, and he’d be done with this task, done with the day, and done with this mission.

It had seemed almost too easy. His German had a bit of a French accent, yes, but he was still fluent enough to bluff his way in. His wife Amanda’s research had proved invaluable: she’d fed him enough jargon and detail to make him sound believable as a biomedical researcher. He’d had to repeatedly practice some of the longer, more technical words, but it had paid off handsomely. Besides, he’d always had a good ear for languages.

Even with that obfuscation, it had still taken him several weeks to earn his way into the inner circle of the research group and determine where, exactly, the stolen vials of smallpox virus were stored.

He’d actually begun working on this case before they’d closed the last one — the one that had included the murders of his mother-in-law and stepson. It had fallen by the wayside then, and when he’d finally been able to pick it back up, he’d been in serious danger of losing his chance to start any infiltration at all.

Lee ducked as low as he could manage when he heard the crackle of bullets overhead.

Unfortunately, finding out where the vials were hadn’t gotten him access; it was strictly controlled. Once he’d fully established himself with the group and made several more conventional attempts to get access, the folks down in Fabrication had come up with a scanner that let him take a digital “impression” of the leader’s key card. From there, they’d created a duplicate that had worked beautifully.

At the time, Lee had been impressed. That sort of technology had never been available before. Now, though, he was just trying to get out alive.

He was careful to keep his trajectory erratic; straight lines were always easier to intercept. It helped the grounds outside the lab building hadn’t been consistently kept up; there were patches of shrubbery here and there that let him pause for a few seconds and redirect.

There had been alarms in the storage room, of course. That was just plain common sense. What he hadn’t known was that there had also been a hidden camera — and that someone had been actively monitoring it. The alarms had sounded as soon as he started placing charges, forcing him to finish up a little haphazardly. No matter; the explosions had done their job anyway, albeit a little more obviously than he’d originally intended.

Lee’s long legs pounded through another patch of roughly kept grass, and he dodged right the moment he saw a break in the shrubbery. Sprinting through it, he came out into an area that the Stasi cell — or whomever ran the office building they’d been in — hadn’t bothered to keep up at all. The grass was almost waist-high in places, even for him, and if the ground had ever been leveled out it had been a long time ago. Now, he was occasionally stumbling over unexpected dips and bumps.

A hundred and thirty more yards, though, and he’d been able to get into a truly wooded area. That would be enough for him to evade his pursuers.

Good, he thought, pushing himself to run harder and faster. The time they spent waiting for backup would be time he could use to get further away. He yanked out his portable. “Base, Scarecrow. I should be at Double Gate Road in —” he checked his watch. “Thirty seconds. Be there.”

Giving up all pretense of running avoidance patterns, he made straight for his goal, listening behind him for the sounds of shouts or gunshots. There weren’t any. Had he lost them already? Lee turned briefly to look, and was startled to see that the two men who’d been after him had stopped at the edge of the unkempt area, arguing and gesturing rather than advancing.

As he turned back, digesting this curious fact, he stumbled over another hidden hillock. It was a matter of long habit to shift his balance and keep going. Then, when his right foot came down on the far side of the mound, the world spun completely out of control.

Without warning, he found himself thrown up into the air, flailing and tumbling for any purchase at all. His ears began ringing and everything seemed to be closing in around him. He fought the sensation, desperately trying to keep going toward the woods, but nothing seemed to be working anymore. Damn it, he thought. I was so close!

He blacked out before he felt any pain.

His mom had warned him she’d turned the house’s heating down as low as she could without causing damage. It had gotten really cold overnight, though, so it still felt good once he walked through the door. He started to kick off his shoes and shuck his coat, but she stopped him. “You’ll want those back on before too long. Besides, that’s something you do when you’re at home.”

“But this is home,” Jamie pointed out. “It’s a bit weird to see it all empty like this, but it’s still where we live. Or where we used to.” What were you supposed to call one of your old houses? He’d never moved before, until earlier this month. “I’m going to miss it.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” said Mom softly. “There are an awful lot of memories here.”

Was she going to get mushy? Jamie watched her for a moment before deciding she wasn’t. Besides, if she really missed it that badly, she could have just had Lee move in once everyone knew they were married. He shook his head. It was probably a good thing that wasn’t going to happen. This house belonged not just to Mom and him, but to Grandma and Phillip too. He hated leaving it, but it made sense to change their home after so many changes to their family.

Besides, Lee’s decorations were way cooler than Mom’s. Not that he’d ever admit that to her, of course. Some things were just too private to say out loud, even to your mom.

“What’s going to happen next?” he asked her instead.

“Well, the realtor’s already showed it to a couple of people, but they decided it wasn’t what they were looking for. It’s still good news, though, because showings are usually pretty slow around the holidays. If we got some already, it means we might get a lot more after New Year’s. Now that we’ve fixed those doors that were closing funny, he thinks it won’t take too long before I get an offer.”

“An offer?”

“From someone who decides they do want to buy it. That’s how it works,” she explained. “If someone decides they want it, they’ll make me an offer. Then I’ll decide if I want to say yes or no, or if I want to negotiate.” She laughed softly. “The process is the same as when your dad and I first bought this house, but you won’t remember that. You were barely a year old when we moved in.”

He’d lost count of the number of times she’d told him that story, but right now didn’t seem like a good time to remind her. Parents could be weird sometimes.

Take earlier this morning, for example. After dinner last night, they’d started a game of Monopoly and they’d all ended falling asleep, right there in Dad and Carrie’s living room, before they finished. They’d woken up after the sun was up, looked around, laughed, and started opening the rest of their presents.

Carrie had put her hand to her mouth when she opened one of them, refusing to take it all the way out of its box. Dad, seeing what was in it, turned red as a beet, and they’d started speaking French at each other. After a few exchanged sentences, Lee had joined the conversation with some comment that made all three of them laugh pretty hard. Jamie didn’t think that was very nice, talking in French when they knew he and his mom couldn’t understand.

But Mom had been laughing, too. “All right!” she’d cried. “That’s enough. I shouldn’t have to learn French just to understand my own family!”

His dad had looked at Carrie. “Looks like our secret code’s blown.”

Her smile had been sweet, but her eyes had danced with merriment and mischief. “I told you I’d teach you Kreyòl if you asked me to.”

Dad had made one more comment in French, making all three of them laugh again, before scooting over to sit next to Jamie. “Why don’t I start teaching you the French words for all these presents of yours.”

Jamie was sure he wouldn’t remember them all, but it had been a fun conversation, especially after his mom had sheepishly admitted she’d forgotten all the French she’d taken in high school.

“I suppose,” she’d said, “I probably should try and learn it again. Especially with some of the things I’ve been transcribing lately.”

“Mom!” he’d begun. “Couldn’t you wait until I’m in high school and we can learn it together?”

Lee had given Mom a significant look. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Besides, that way I can teach you the best parts of French myself.”

At that, his mom had turned the same color of red that his dad had been at first. Dad and Carrie had started laughing so hard they’d doubled over.

“Jamie?”

Oh. He’d been staring at the empty bookshelves a little too long. There was nothing there to see anymore. “Sorry, Mom. Did you ask me something?”

“Yes,” she answered, though she didn’t seem upset about him not listening. “I just want to satisfy my own curiosity. Why did you come back here the day you got kidnapped? There wasn’t anything you could take with you.”

Jamie briefly wished at least one piece of furniture might still be in here, since it was kind of awkward to shuffle your feet in front of your mom without something to lean on or hide behind. “I don’t know. I don’t even really know why I came here except that I just — I just really had been missing this house, and remembering everything the way it had been, and I’d wanted it all to come back for a while. Kind of stupid, really, but Phillip’s not here to call me a worm brain anymore.”

“Small favors,” his mother replied gently. “But it wasn’t stupid. In fact, it sounds pretty normal to me. There’s a lot here worth missing, even with the house completely empty.” She turned in a circle, right there while they were standing in the den, and when she was done her expression was a little sadder. “Missing everything just reminds us how much we loved them.”

“I’d probably have gone home before dark,” he admitted. “Maybe even before you guys knew I’d skipped school. I mean, yeah, I planned it out and all that, but that was just so I wouldn’t get caught.” Jamie sighed. “Which I did anyway.”

“Were you inside when the HVA Irregulars caught you?”

“I hadn’t made it that far. Haven’t been upstairs since the day we moved the last of our stuff out.”

Mom pursed her lips. “You know what? I have an idea. Why don’t we go all the way up to the attic and then start working our way down, room by room, so we can say our last goodbyes. We’ll tell each individual room our favorite memory from it. We can do the garage and gazebo, too.”

It sounded awfully silly to Jamie, but then again, it might be fun. “Sure. But things don’t seem so bad now. We were happy here, but we were happy this morning, too.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” he told her. “It was different. I’ve thought about it, though, and I bet it would’ve gotten different here too, eventually. Especially once Phillip started driving.”

“It probably would have,” she answered. “Although we’d have had more time to prepare. Still, different isn’t always bad.”

Jamie considered that for a second. “No. And it felt good to be so happy this morning. Maybe…maybe we’ll find more ways to be happy again this next year. The five of us, I mean.”

His mom smiled. “I’d like to think so.” Then she held out her hand and they went up the stairs together for the last time.

END
Afterword · Next Story: All That Mattered

Carrie’s version of the Christmas goose was different from their norm; during cooking, she’d explained that she’d used épice, which was a sauce made from peppers, garlic, and various herbs. She’d also included more traditional spices and a basic bouillon, so the dish was as familiar as it was different. Amanda had been a little skeptical at first, but now that she’d tasted it, she knew it was the perfect choice for this year, and could potentially become a new tradition.

They were lingering over the dinner table at Joe and Carrie’s townhouse, chasing the meal with apple crisp, ice cream, and, for the adults, eggnog. Jamie had a large mug of hot chocolate instead. Conversation had been light, with a minimum of awkward pauses and no little amount of laughter. As she nursed her drink, though, Amanda couldn’t resist asking the question that had been on her mind ever since she’d first seen Phillip’s civics report.

“Why,” she began, “do you think Phillip made up his sources in his project on the Segal Report?”

Jamie’s head came up at the question and a profound silence fell. Amanda came close to taking the question back, but ultimately decided against it.

Joe was the first to speak. “I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure. But when I went back and checked the source work itself, most of the sources were valid. It was the quotes and citations that weren’t. Phillip hadn’t yet been sophisticated enough to mimic some of those periodicals’ editorial tones, which is why it felt ‘off’ to Lee and then me. But he got close enough to fool his teachers.” He shook his head. “With work like that, he might not have made a bad journalist himself one day.”

“Except that he hated writing papers,” said Jamie, his face flushed.

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

At that, he dropped his gaze back down to his dessert.

“Jamie?”

The boy sighed. “Phillip didn’t write that school report. I did.”

“Including the conclusions?” Lee sounded as though he wanted to believe Jamie but hadn’t quite managed to do so.

“No. Those were from both of us. The more we researched things, the more complicated they got, and that couldn’t have been right. We’d already been to the library a few times to try and figure it out, and in fact we’d been asked to leave once ’cause we got a little loud while we were arguing. I guess…” he trailed off. “That may have been how those bad guys figured out they needed to watch us. What I don’t understand is why they took Nancy, too. She wasn’t one of our sources, and she isn’t one of our teachers!” His hands shook slightly. “I mean, I’m glad she was there and all, and maybe that’s what we might not ever know for sure: why they took her.”

There was another long pause as the adults exchanged significant looks.

“What…” Amanda hesitated. “Jamie, what do you know about what Nancy does for a living? And why they took her?”

“She couldn’t tell me a whole lot,” he reported. “She said she wasn’t allowed to. All I know is she works for the government, in intelligence, and that she’d been trying to follow up on a case. Is that what Phillip and I kept running into, every time we found something that didn’t look right? Was there something —” he shook his head. “I don’t know. Phillip thought it was just my imagination running wild, but I was afraid we’d found some deep dark secret.”

Amanda met Joe’s, Carrie’s, and Lee’s eyes in turn. “This does change things, doesn’t it?”

“Definitely,” said Lee. “I’ll talk to…to one of our managers first thing Monday morning.”

“Why?” asked Jamie.

The adults exchanged glances again before Joe stood up. “Why don’t you top everyone off, Carrie, and then we can take this to the living room.”

Jamie hung back a little so that he could give Amanda a wide-eyed stare. “Did I do somethin’ wrong, Mom? Am I in trouble again? ’Cause I still don’t know why you guys aren’t punishing me for running away.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re not in trouble, Jamie, at least not for Phillip’s and your research. You’re just…” how could she explain it without coming across as condescending? “I guess you’re growing up a little faster than we all thought you had been. As for running away,” she continued, “you’re right. That wasn’t okay. Neither was going snooping in your dad’s and Carrie’s bedroom. But given everything that happened afterward, we all figured you’d been punished enough already. You’re not going to do anything like that again, are you?”

His eyes were wide. “No!”

“Then that’s enough. Come on. They’re waiting on us.”

In the living room, Joe and Carrie had settled onto their usual couch and Lee was keeping a place on the love seat for her. The fire had been lit and the lights turned down a little. The room was too small for a full-size Christmas tree, but there was one on a tabletop, with wrapped presents stacked on the floor nearby.

Jamie looked between the two couples and then opted for the bench in between them. “Will you just tell me what’s going on? Don’t try and tell me it’s secret or anything, ’cause I know it’s more than that.”

Lee’s hand wrapped around Amanda’s before he started. “There are secrets, Jamie. We can’t tell you all of them. But it looks like you may have already stumbled into a few.” Then, using simplified language, he explained the Agency and its mission. By the time he was done, the child’s jaw had dropped open.

“I had no idea!” he exclaimed. “How do you know about this Agency?”

Amanda allowed herself a deep breath before answering him. “Because that’s where Lee and I actually work.”

He jumped up. “You’re — you work in intelligence? Not making films? But —” he cut himself off. “You know, that explains an awful lot. But why didn’t you just tell Grandma and Phillip and me the truth from the beginning?”

“Because,” said Joe, “everything has to be kept absolutely confidential. Most people don’t know the Agency even exists, and it needs to stay that way. We didn’t want you or your brother to give it away, even by accident. Your mother…” now it was his turn to trail off. “Your mother didn’t realize how close the two of you had already come to its operations. Neither did I. None of us did, actually.”

“Did you know?” he asked his father.

“Yes. But only because they’d been the ones to help me out of a…a situation that happened right when I came back from Estoccia.”

“‘A situation,’” echoed Jamie. Then he turned to Lee. “I guess you’re not going to be allowed to tell me what kind of situation, are you?”

“No,” said Lee. “But that one got —”

Amanda squeezed his hand before cutting him off. “What Lee means is that we can’t tell you all the details, but it was that time that the guys came after you in the school gym. Remember how your dad and I were also there?”

“Yeah, and —” his jaw fell open again. “Lee! That was you who fought with the guy with a gun then, wasn’t it?”

Lee nodded.

“I always thought you looked a little familiar,” he remarked with a brief smirk. “It also explains why you left before we could tell say ‘thank you.’ Mom’s always real big on that, but she wasn’t that time. Once we got over being all scared and stuff, both Phillip and I thought it was weird she hadn’t.” He shrugged. “But it wasn’t any weirder than anything else that had happened the last year or two before. You’ve been with this Agency all along, haven’t you, Mom?”

“Not as an agent. That only happened fourteen months ago. Before that I’d been working there part-time, helping out whenever I could.”

“Wow,” he breathed, dragging the word out. But then, without any further prompting, he sobered. “I guess I can understand why you didn’t tell any of us. Grandma, well, Grandma was something of a motormouth. I don’t know if she’d been able to keep the secret, and this is so cool that I don’t think Phillip and I could have either.”

“Can you now?” asked Joe. His tone was as serious as Amanda had ever heard it. “This is important, son, and it’s a big responsibility. Lives depend on it, including ours.”

“I kind of have to, don’t I?” Then he took a deep breath. “But I understand why you didn’t tell me before. I…” he trailed off. “It was really scary, being kidnapped like that. Who were those men, anyway?”

“In English, they were called the HVA Irregulars,” said Lee. “It’s an East German splinter group that had been secretly funded by the KGB. It looks like most its members had been scooched — er, um, fired from their regular jobs with the regular HVA, because they were too sloppy and careless. As far as we can tell, they were trying to prove something so they could get hired back. We’re still looking into it.” Then he met Jamie’s eyes squarely. “But you do understand we’re not going to be able to tell you about whatever we find. Right, sport?”

He cocked his head. “Were you even s’posed to tell me that much?”

“No,” admitted Amanda. “Not really. Except that you really do deserve to know something about why it happened, sweetheart.” She glanced over at Lee. “Jamie’s probably right. Someone overheard that loud argument, someone who understood both English and German, and that’s how they latched on to us. It was an informant, maybe, since only one of the men we arrested spoke English.”

Jamie paled. “You mean it was my fault Grandma and Phillip got killed?”

“No!” All four adults said it at once, making the word louder than they’d intended. Jamie visibly flinched.

“Nobody made the HVA Irregulars go after our family,” said Amanda softly. “They hadn’t even been ordered to do so by their government. They’re the ones who killed Grandma and Phillip, and they’re the ones to blame. Not you.” She shook her head. “Never you. All you did was get into an argument with your brother.”

“I guess,” he mumbled, his eyes back down on the floor, and Amanda made two mental notes: the first, to bring this back up in therapy; and the second, to alert Francine about the possibility of moles or leaks via the library branch.

Right now, though, Jamie was more important. “I don’t have to guess, sweetheart. I know it wasn’t anything more than that, plus the wrong person being in the right place at the right time.”

“Maybe. But I still miss them.”

“We all do,” said Carrie. “We’re all going to. We always will. It’s normal, and it’s all right. You…” she trailed off. “Jamie, a long time before you were born, before you were even thought about, my parents had to run away from their home in Haiti, just to stay alive. They still miss it and grieve for it today. But that’s all right, and so are they. The point is, some things are too much to ever just ‘get over.’ The best you can do is get through.” She glanced at Lee and Amanda. “Um, why don’t we open presents now? Your dad and I have something we want to show you.”

There was wariness in Jamie’s voice. “About you going to the Ivory Coast?”

“Yes,” said Joe even as he reached for two of the boxes. “Hang on a minute. It’s these two, right, chérie?”

She nodded to confirm, and they began ripping open the wrapping paper at the same time. They also held up the contents simultaneously: a set of art charcoals for Joe, and a Ginsu starter set for Carrie.

“I don’t get it,” said Jamie.

“These are things we couldn’t take with us,” explained Jamie’s stepmother softly.

“Then why’d you get them?”

“Because we’re not going,” said Joe, his voice equally soft. “At least, not for a while yet, and maybe not ever. Carrie never gave notice at her job with the school, and I…there’s things I can do from here.” He met Jamie’s eyes, but his expression was sincere, not challenging. “I can’t promise you we’re never going to go again. But we are going to wait at least until you’re a little older, and we’re going to talk to you before we make any decisions.”

“That’s your big Christmas gift from us,” said Carrie. “We told your mom and Lee a week or so ago, right around the time you were rescued. They agreed to keep the secret until Christmas, but no longer than that.”

Jamie’s eyes had become suspiciously shiny, and his voice quavered. “Except it’s not Christmas yet. That’s tomorrow, not today.”

Amanda picked up the thread of conversation again. “I know, sweetheart. But remember how we always used to let you and Phillip open one present each on Christmas Eve?” She indicated the pile. “Why don’t we keep that going, the way it always has been. Go ahead and pick one of them to open up.”

She’d expected Jamie to dive right in to the pile; after all, it was a Christmas present and he was still a child even if he wasn’t her baby anymore. So she was surprised when he launched himself at her instead, knocking her backward against the love seat with the strength of his hug. She couldn’t stop the tears from starting, but this time, she didn’t feel like she needed to. Because they weren’t from grief. They were from happiness.

---

Author’s Note:

• The tradition of choosing one present to open on Christmas Eve comes from my own family life while growing up.

Jamie made a face at Amanda. “I already told you I’m fine and I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“I heard you,” she replied, with more patience than Lee would have had. “I know you don’t feel like you need to go, but sweetheart, you need to go anyway. Sometimes there’s an injury you don’t realize you have until later.”

He cast his eyes down to the ground. “Except that I remember what happened the last time I went.”

Before Amanda could respond, Nancy Zusterakos, who’d been sitting next to him on the stretcher, threw an arm around Jamie’s shoulders and pulled him close enough to give him a knuckle rub. “C’mon, small fry, do like she says. I’ll be in the next ambulance over anyway. Unless you’re too afraid —”

Jamie shoved her hand away. “That’s not gonna work on me. I’m too old for that.”

“Well, all right then, old man. Do like she says anyway.”

With the kind of exaggerated sigh that only a middle-schooler could produce, Jamie gave in, kicked up his feet, and twisted around so that he could lie back on the stretcher. Anxious eyes fell on Amanda’s and Joe’s faces. “You’re gonna be there, too, right, Mom and Dad? Comin’ in right behind the ambulance or at least Nancy’s?”

“Actually,” said one of the paramedics, “your parents can ride with you, if you’d like.”

“I’m not a baby.” But before anyone could react to that, he sighed again. This one was softer than the first. “But it’d be nice.”

After Jamie was loaded, Joe crawled in first before holding a hand out for Amanda. “It’s a little tight in here.”

She levered herself up. “I’m sure it’s fine. Where are we going?”

“Queenstown Memorial,” said one of the paramedics. He glanced at Lee. “You know the address?”

Lee shook his head.

The paramedic rattled it off. “You, ah, you don’t have to stay and give any more information, do you?”

“Not right now.” He’d submitted a preliminary field report already, and he could file his final report when he went back to the Agency on Monday. Billy had explicitly told them both to take tomorrow to rest and recuperate. Lee was still running on adrenaline and caffeine, but he knew it to be a temporary fix at best. “We’ll see you there.”

“Oh,” said Carrie as they began to turn away. “I almost forgot.” Taking something out of her cardigan’s pocket, she handed it to Amanda. “Here you go. I guess I won’t need these after all.”

The other woman’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Thanks.”

“What was that you gave Amanda?” Lee asked Carrie as they made their way back to the minivan.

“Her handcuffs.”

He momentarily stopped in his tracks to stare at her. “Her handcuffs? What were you doing with those?”

Carrie’s tone was matter of fact. “She wouldn’t stay in the van any other way.” Then, seeing the look on his face, she joined his laughter. “I didn’t actually do anything, Lee. The threat was enough.”

He shook his head as he unlocked the minivan’s passenger door. “Lady, I’m sure glad you’re on our side. Do you know, that’s the one thing I never thought about doing during all that time when Amanda wouldn’t stay in the car?”

She continued the conversation after they settled into their seats. “Maybe that’s a good thing. That you never even threatened to handcuff her, I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Amanda so angry. If she’d gotten that angry with you before you began dating, you might not have ever gotten so far.”

“Maybe,” he allowed as he pulled onto the asphalt behind the two ambulances. “But not for the reason you think. She’s saved my life after ignoring those orders. More than once.”

“Perhaps you subconsciously knew she could, so that’s why you never thought of restraining her.” Carrie shrugged. “She and I have a different dynamic than you and I do. A lot of times, there’s open animosity between mother and stepmother. She and I have kept that from happening, thank goodness, and I think we can go on keeping it pretty cordial. But it does mean that, if we feel we need to, we’ll cross each other without thinking twice. And I needed to this time.”

“Hm,” he answered as he turned the minivan onto Romancoke Road. “That never occurred to me. But you’re right; I couldn’t call Joe a friend. We still have to be really careful how we talk to each other. We’re trying, though. It might get to friendly, perhaps, given some time, but I doubt it’ll ever be comfortable. I…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Amanda in pain from his decisions too many times.”

“And I’ve seen him in pain from her decisions more often than either one of us would admit,” she replied softly. “But, Lee, you and I don’t have that sort of history. If you and I became friends, it might help them both.”

Lee made the effort to keep himself from retorting that Joe’s pain was of his own making, instead giving her a sidelong look. “Does it matter? You two aren’t going to be around much longer. You’re heading out to Côte d’Ivoire after the holidays, right?”

There was a long pause before she took a deep breath. “Actually, we need to talk to you and Amanda about that. We meant to wait until we had you together, but…no. There’s been — we asked for another offer. If we could be stationed stateside, at least for a few years.” She continued with the details, and the longer she spoke, the more he found himself smiling.

It probably wouldn’t ever be a close friendship, and it would take work. But maybe the two of them could be friends after all.

---

By the time they got back to his bed, Jamie had already been assessed and hooked up to an IV. He was also feeling better enough to complain about it. “But why can’t you let me eat?” he kept asking. “Because I’m hungry. They never gave us food.”

Carrie glanced over at Lee and Amanda. “I thought your agent said —”

“It was a coded message,” he replied. “The ones we arrested don’t speak English very well. Zeta told me she’d figured that out pretty early on, so she was willing to take the chance. All she had to do was keep her tone even and cheerful.”

“Are you talking about Nancy?” asked Jamie.

“Yes,” Lee replied. “That is her name. We call her Zeta because it’s easier.”

He frowned. “‘Nancy’ isn’t that hard.”

Amanda jumped in before he could reply. “It’s a little more complicated than that, sweetheart, but nothing you need to worry about. You can keep on calling her Nancy if she’s okay with it.”

The last response Lee had expected to that was a small, dopey smile.

“Look, sport,” he started. “You need to concentrate on getting better, all right? Because, when you’re out of the hospital, we — ah, the people that Nancy and the other operatives work with — they’ll need you to go in and answer some questions.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“You’re getting out that soon?”

Joe was the one who spoke up this time. “Yeah, tomorrow. He’s bruised and dehydrated, but it doesn’t look like there’s any permanent damage. They’re keeping him overnight to be sure, but if he’s still feeling fine in the morning, they’ll let him go home.”

He glanced over toward Amanda. “And Zeta?”

“A little worse,” she replied smoothly. “But there’s a decent possibility she’ll be discharged tomorrow as well.”

“In that case, could Nancy be the person who asked me the questions? Her being there with me helped a lot.”

“We’ll ask,” Lee told him. “They might say no.”

“But they might not.” The smile was spreading now, reaching all the way up to his eyes. “And I owe her a ‘thank you.’ I hope I get the chance to say it to her. You are going to let me do that, right?”

“Of course we will, sweetheart. We may not be right there when you get the chance,” Amanda continued, “but we won’t be far away.”

“Good. ’Cause I kind of like her.”

At least, thought Lee, he was admitting it.

Carrie managed to hold her chuckle until they were far enough away not to be overheard. “I suppose it’s about the right time for that to start.”

“She treated him like a little brother, though,” he observed. “Didn’t he realize?”

“At his age? Probably not.” She pointed toward the waiting room. “Why don’t you go see your operative, and I’ll see about getting us something to eat at the cafeteria. If I don’t get to sleep, I at least want to do that.”

“Why wouldn’t you get to sleep?”

“Lee,” she chided gently. “Do you really think any of us is going home tonight? Even though all four of us need rest?”

“We might.” But then he relented with a nod. She was as right about this as she’d been about them becoming friends. It seemed like a distinct possibility, at least. Lee found himself looking forward to finding out how that would go.

---

Zeta tried to sit up when he came up to her bed. “Mr. Stetson. Sir.”

He gave her a faux-scolding look. “Don’t start with that, Zusterakos. I’m not that old. Besides, Billy’s your supervisor. Not Francine, and definitely not me.”

She glanced around, but it was Francine who asked the next question from where she was sitting on the other side of the bed. “Where is Billy, anyway?”

“Still doing cleanup,” he told her. “They’re going to be out there for a while yet, going back over the scene.” He dragged a nearby stool over so he could sit down himself. “We won’t need to give our formal statements until tomorrow at the earliest, and it’ll be at least Monday for Amanda and me. I imagine we’re going to end up staying the night here.”

“That’ll be two all-nighters in a row,” Francine pointed out.

“And I’m feeling every minute of them.” It was already taking a tremendous effort not to yawn. “I might even be able to actually sleep in the waiting room for a change.” He looked back at Zeta. “I’m also going to apologize in advance.”

“For what?”

“Looks like you have a schoolboy crush on your hands.”

She started to laugh, but her expression contorted with pain, and her breath hitched painfully.

“It’s all right,” Zeta finally gasped after a few moments. “Bruised ribs. Not broken.”

He frowned at her. “You pulled Jamie over next to you on the stretcher.”

“He needed it more than I needed to be still.” She was still trying to breathe through the pain. “He’s a good kid, Scarecrow. He really held it together, even when they were in there waving weapons around and threatening to hurt or kill one or both of us. Have you put him through the agency family classes yet?”

“Not yet.” Doing that would mean having to tell Jamie what, exactly, he and Amanda did for a living. He wasn’t sure it was quite the right time for that yet. He suspected it might be soon, though.

“Scarecrow.” Francine broke into his thoughts, her tone acerbic even though the smile on her face ruined the effect. “I would appreciate it if you had a little consideration for my partner.”

“Partner?” That was news. To his knowledge, Francine had never had a regular partner.

The women exchanged a glance before they shrugged in unison.

“And don’t worry about Jamie, sir — Scarecrow,” Zeta added. “I have a nephew and niece his age. I’ve just been treating him the same way I would treat them if I needed to keep their spirits up. If I keep on doing that, he’ll refocus the minute he comes across someone more appropriate.”

Lee scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “Oh, goodness. You mean this isn’t going to just vanish completely? Jamie’s more resourceful than Phillip ever was, and we’ve caught Phillip sneaking at least once. Which means he may do more. Or worse.”

At that, both Francine and Zeta began chuckling, though Zeta didn’t last very long.

“Time for more pain meds?” asked Francine.

“I’m fine,” the younger agent muttered past the tears in her eyes.

“Ugh,” was the response. “What is it about you kids that you always want to be so macho? There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking pain medication if you need it. Scarecrow, since you’re the one that keeps making her laugh, you can be the one to go to the nurse’s station and ask for it.”

“Why me?”

That earned him one of Francine’s prettiest smiles, though it was full of teeth. “Because I asked you to? Nicely?”

Shaking his head again, Lee ducked out of the curtained-off area and stopped by the desk to pass the message along before heading out to the waiting area. Carrie, he saw, had already returned with coffee and a sandwich for him. Lee smiled again. It was a BLT. His favorite.

Despite the dire situation, Billy couldn’t help laughing at the confused looks on Joe and Carrie King’s faces. “What?” he asked them. “Did you really think I thought they would stay put?”

Carrie found her voice first. “You threatened to put them in —”

“He had to do that,” said Amanda, who was already retrieving gear from the back of the minivan. “If he’d meant it, he’d have had a guard on that back stairwell too.”

“Half the folks in our section have children,” Billy explained. “Including me. I knew no parent could ever have been expected to stay behind. But,” and now the amusement dropped out of his tone, “you two are to stay back and away from the action, no matter what happens. If Lee or Amanda or anyone else on the team gives you an order, do it first and ask questions later. Are we clear?”

Joe nodded, indicating the holstered pistol in his hand.

“Just hold on to that right now,” said Billy. “Pray you won’t need it. Scarecrow, Sunlight, you set?”

Amanda nodded as she slung a bag over her shoulder. “Sir, where’s Francine? We need our assignments.”

“I have them. Code word is ‘lasso,’ and you’re six and seven.”

That got Lee’s attention. “We have that many out here?”

“It’s Zeta and Jamie,” answered Billy. “They’re two of ours, and a kid to boot. I was beating ’em off with a stick. Van’s over that way.”

Lee slammed the minivan hatch shut. “I’m going in with you.”

Billy shook his head. “Negative. Lasso One wants you held in reserve, and she sent me to make sure that happens.” He pointed. “Both of you go. Now. And take Dally One and Dally Two with you,” he continued as he pointed to Joe and Carrie in turn.

He made sure they were trotting toward the communication van before slipping back around to crouch beside Francine and Jenkins. Beaman and Duffy, he knew, had had time by now to get into position on the other side of the hangar doors. He counted fifteen seconds before he saw the mirror flash confirming it.

“Your show, Lasso One,” he told Francine.

She nodded and keyed her handheld. “Ready. Three, two, one — go!”

They moved quickly and quietly, forming a perimeter around the hangar door and the main entrance, which were located next to each other. Once she was satisfied, Francine nodded and beckoned to Jenkins. He reached over to twist the handle on the main entrance; the door opened silently. Francine was there immediately, covering him, and they vanished out of sight as they leap-frogged in toward whatever location they’d identified.

Billy’s handheld came to life. “This is Lasso Seven,” said Amanda’s voice. “Pickup One advises a vehicle arriving on the airstrip side. Plates coming back stolen.”

Great, thought Billy. It was going to be just as well that they had such a large team out here.

“Also a sentry going toward that area,” continued Amanda. “I still have visual. He’s carrying what looks like an M-16.”

It could also, Billy realized, be a StG 44. The two could be mistaken for each other from a distance. He swore under his breath. “Lasso One, Lasso Three. You copy that? Could be blown already.”

“Acknowledged,” answered Francine, but there were no sounds after that. He held still, weapon trained on the hangar doors, counting breaths to stay focused. Thirty-two of them elapsed before there was a metallic groan and the hangar door shook. Billy stiffened his stance, ready for whatever was about to come out, but then there was the sound of a gunshot and the door stayed put.

“Status!” he barked into his handheld.

“Locked office door, north side, central,” answered Jenkins. “We’re advancing.”

Another gunshot sounded, followed immediately by a third. He, Beaman, and Duffy exchanged glances across the ramp.

Amanda’s voice broke in again. “Something’s coming out that north window!”

Beaman, who was closest, took off at a run, not bothering with stealth as he rounded the building corner. “It’s a shirt!” he yelled on the radio. “Dirt or oil smeared on it. Shape of a two. Ah, damn it —” there was a burst of machine-gun fire. “Lasso Five to all units. I’m fine, but pinned down. Shirt’s still out there. Looks like a woman’s.”

Good information, but not enough. Was it, in fact, from Zeta or Jamie? Did the numeral mean both of them were there, or that there were two more attackers? Another curse slipped from Billy’s lips.

Another spate of gunfire from inside the hangar, and then Jenkins’ voice came through on the handheld. “One bronco’s roped, but there’s some smoke and visibility’s bad. He blew the lights before we got him. Moving forward.”

“Do you need backup?” asked Amanda.

No response. Billy wavered. This was Francine’s operation, so it should be her call, but —

There was another burst of machine-gun fire from the direction Beaman had gone, followed by two quick single shots.

Duffy caught Billy’s eye, pointing at the hangar door. It was shaking again. They burst forward together, running toward it even as, with another metallic groan, it began creeping upward.

“Federal agents!” yelled Duffy. “Freeze!”

The door kept moving. Billy could see movement inside the hangar itself.

“Lasso Three, Lasso Two,” called Jenkins. “You see this?”

“I see it,” answered Billy, his eyes also tracking Duffy’s movements. “Where are you?”

“Other side of the hangar from you. It’s an ultra-light. Lasso One’s still trying to get into that office and — oh hell!” There was another exchange of gunfire from inside, and then five long seconds of silence. When Jenkins came back on the line, he was breathing heavily. “There’s a third bronco in here! Must’ve been under cover.” A pause. “I’m down. Thigh shot. Lasso One needs backup.”

“This is Lasso Six,” answered Lee. “ETA twenty seconds.”

The hangar door was now fully open. “Come on out of there!” called Duffy. “Slowly. Hands up!”

There was a buzzing noise. It took Billy a second to recognize the sound as a propeller. He dropped into a crouch, sighting toward the movement he’d seen earlier. Duffy mirrored him as the ultra-light plane came out of the hangar and passed through the late-afternoon shadows into daylight.

“Stop now!” hollered Billy. “I’ll shoot if I have to.”

Whoever was piloting the thing didn’t even slow down. After exchanging a quick glance with Duffy, they squeezed off two shots each. There was a loud crack and a splintering noise, and Billy found himself ducking shrapnel from the disintegrating propeller. Duffy was already belly-crawling forward, keeping his weapon at the ready. The cockpit door was on Duffy’s side, so Billy skewed his own approach as he went in, careful to stay out of the pilot’s line of sight.

Duffy suddenly stood up and yanked the cockpit door open. There was a brief scuffle as he pulled the pilot out roughly. It was actually too rough and unsteady; he overcompensated, and the pilot took advantage of the opening to knock him down, twist free, and take off running. Duffy bounced back onto his feet and gave chase.

The plane was still moving. Billy rolled under it, careful of the wheels, and jumped into the cockpit. Stopping the plane’s forward motion was easy enough; there were pedals on the floor, just like a car. He was less certain how to actually shut the thing down. Taking a deep breath, he started flipping switches on the control panel. Surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to hit the right one!

At the third toggle, the engine powered down, but there was a sudden smell of gasoline. Had a bullet hit a tank? Was this thing in danger of exploding? He slid back out of the plane and did a quick visual check. There didn’t seem to be any bullet holes in the body, although there was one in the windshield and another in a tire that had gone flat. What was he smelling, then? Did he even have time to search anyway?

“This is Lasso Four. Pilot from the plane is neutralized.”

“Good,” answered Billy. “I can’t tell if this plane is safe or not. It’s stopped and the engine’s off, but I smell fuel.”

“Did you shut down the fuel feed?” asked Lee over the radio.

“I don’t know.” He climbed back into the cockpit and started flipping switches again. There was a kind of sigh, and then the smell of fuel began to dissipate. “All right, got it now.” He leaned back to catch his breath; he really was getting too old for this. “Lasso Five?”

“Still pinned,” reported Beaman. “Two broncos now. I think one of ’em was in the car.”

“Lasso One? Two? Six?”

The only answer was another muffled exchange of gunfire from somewhere inside the hangar building. Abandoning the plane, Billy took off at a dead run, but he hadn’t made it three steps before he saw a sudden movement near the building’s exterior entrance.

Oh, no. There wasn’t enough time to get there.

“King!” he shouted. “Step back and stand down!”

Joe didn’t even acknowledge hearing the order before yanking the door open and barreling through. Billy pushed himself as hard as he could manage, running on instinct as the light transitioned from outdoor sunlight to indoor gloom. He caught Joe as he was starting to open an internal door, snagging his wrist and yanking downward as hard as he could. They crashed to the floor in a heap.

“Stand down, damn it!” panted Billy. This was one of the most dangerous situations a law enforcement officer could face: an armed parent whose child had been threatened. “I need cover but you’re no good to me like this!”

Joe climbed back to his feet, wild-eyed. “Cover? Cover? From my son?”

“From whoever else is inside there! I don’t —” his breathing caught, and he coughed hard for a second. Joe made a break for the door he’d been trying to open but Billy was able to recover and bring his weapon up. “Don’t make me! For God’s sake, man, don’t make me have to stop you!”

The other man went still, his eyes even wider than they had been, and for a long moment they simply stared at each other. Switching to a one-handed stance, Billy brought his handheld up. “Lasso Two! You still with us?”

Jenkins’ voice was weak, and the words were beginning to slur. “Kinda. Getting lightheaded.”

“Stay with me just a little longer. How many broncos are in there?”

“Um…ah, one down. Won’t be getting back up. Scarecrow’s…” there was a loud crash. “Make that two broncos down. They’re going for that locked door.”

Billy yanked open the door from the reception area and sprinted through, Joe only a step behind. Francine was hammering at the knob with the butt of her gun. “Steel door, deadbolt,” she reported. “Couldn’t pick it.”

Lee got back to his feet. “Step back. We’ll do this together.” He motioned a three-count and they kicked hard at the same time. The door quivered but held.

“Again!” ordered Billy, joining them. He was vaguely aware of Joe on Francine’s other side but had no time to comment before they kicked again. This time, the door shook hard, and it looked like it might not have been enough, but at the last second two hinges broke. The door’s own weight pulled it free of its third hinge. It fell forward, landing on the floor with a metallic clang.

Francine was just a hair faster than Lee getting through. “Zeta!”

“In here! I’m — the kid’s —”

Billy followed them into the room. Jamie was tied to a cot, a shirtless Zeta yanking at the ropes. Lee dove in with his switchblade and cut them in a few quick swipes. “Jamie!”

“Lee!” The youth bounced up and into his arms.

Billy reached back to pull Joe forward but was stopped by the sound of machine-gun fire from far too close. Everyone froze.

“Good move,” said the newcomer, who was standing in the doorway. He lowered his rifle to cover everyone in the room. “And how nice of you to all confine yourselves so neatly.”

“We have backup outside,” warned Francine. “And more on the way.”

“Your ‘backup’ is trapped against the side of this building.” The new assailant gestured with the rifle’s muzzle. “Weapons on the floor, please, and kick them away from you.”

There didn’t seem to be any other option besides compliance. Exchanging glances, the three of them — Billy, Lee, and Francine — did as they’d been told.

“Good. Very good. We now have five hostages instead of —”

At the crack of another gunshot, their assailant went down without completing the sentence. Blood began gushing out of a wound in his back.

Joe’s arms shook as he lowered the pistol he’d fired. “I ducked down before he saw me. And I’ve never — never actually fired one of these at someone —”

“Easy there.” Billy stepped forward, relieving Joe of the weapon. “Look who we’ve —”

“Dad!” Jamie flung himself from Lee’s embrace into Joe’s. “You’re here!”

“— found,” finished Billy quietly before keying his handheld again. “Inside’s secure. Status outside?”

“Clear.” Beaman’s voice was tired, but alert, and came from directly behind him. “Fielder came for backup after Duffy got to the van. He got the one who still had me pinned down.”

In the storeroom beyond, Francine had taken off her jacket to wrap around the bra-clad Zeta. Beaman, who’d been in the corridor, knelt down next to the now semi-conscious Jenkins. Fielder was also there, checking on the enemy operative who’d come in last and then looking up with a shake of his head.

Billy gave himself the luxury of three deep, long, cleansing breaths before keying back onto the line to call the all-clear.

Billy took one look and turned on them as soon as they came into the bull pen. “Just what do you two think you’re doing?”

Lee gave him a hard stare. “Prepping to go with the rescue mission.”

“Absolutely not!”

The noise in the bull pen came to a near-complete stop. Lee couldn’t have cared less. Billy was wrong and he was right and that was all there was to it. “That’s our son you’re talking about!”

“Which is exactly why you can’t go!” retorted their boss. “Damn it, Lee, we never let family members participate in a mission!”

“Because they’re not usually agents. We are!”

Billy took a sharp breath before gesturing them into his office. He started in as soon as they shut the door. “Okay, Stetson — Stetsons. You’re both parents, and you’re both agents. Which one are you right now? Because if you can’t absolutely guarantee that you’re only going to act as agents, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go out to that airport.”

“You just try and stop us,” snarled Lee. “Amanda, go get the rest of the equipment.”

“Belay that!” Billy was breathing heavily. “And that’s an order! You two are going to stay here and man communications and coordination. I also need you to be around if Mr. and Mrs. King wake up.”

There was a tap on the door, and they glanced out to see Francine standing there. Joe and Carrie were with her. With a harsh sigh, Billy let the three of them in.

“Why aren’t we on the way out to — which airport did you say it was?” asked Joe.

“I didn’t,” said Billy. “Because you’re not going.”

Joe was as furious as Lee had been, if not more so. “The hell we aren’t!”

“Scarecrow and Sunlight are staying under order,” snapped Billy. “And we don’t let untrained civilians go on operations.”

“Oh, baloney!” shouted Joe. “Amanda told me how she got started here.”

“That was an exception,” said Francine, whose composure stood in contrast to the rest of them. “Amanda actually put herself in the middle of it the first time anyway.”

“I don’t care. We’re going.”

“I’ll put you all in lockup if I have to,” countered Billy. “Do I?”

Lee turned away, feeling anger stiffening every movement. Billy would do that, he knew; it wasn’t an idle threat. A part of him even understood why this was happening: they wouldn’t be objective. They couldn’t be. And if someone had to make a split second, life-or-death decision?

Amanda’s hand slid around his. “We can keep Joe and Carrie with us while we work comms.”

He shook his head vigorously, barely noticing that the argument with Billy was still going on. Carrie’s voice had entered the fray.

“Look, damn it.” Francine’s temper finally broke. “I’m not going to let any of you compromise my partner’s safety by letting you go with us! Did you even think of that while you were standing here wasting time arguing, when we could be on our way?”

“Your partner,” said Joe. “Our son.”

“The answer is still no,” said Billy, opening the office door and signaling to a security guard. “And if you try, you’re going into holding. All four of you! You hear that, Moya? If you see Scarecrow and Sunlight so much as make a move toward following us, you’re to take them downstairs. Am I clear?”

The security guard swallowed but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Sir, please!” pleaded Amanda, and Lee could feel her shaking. “We’ll stay out of the way.”

At that, Francine actually laughed, although it was harsh from the anger mixed into the humor. “Don’t even try that line, Amanda. You never stay out of the way, even when it isn’t a relative.”

Amanda’s face crumpled, and she began blinking rapidly, the way she always did when she was holding back tears. “You just…” she trailed off. “You just all be careful out there.” Then she took a long, shaky breath. “Joe, Carrie, before we get started, do you want anything to eat or drink? We have coffee and a couple of vending machines.”

“I don’t believe this!” yelled Joe as they came back out into the bull pen. “You’re actually letting him order you to stay?”

Billy and Francine paused from where they were gathering their things. “I can have both their jobs, King, and they know it. I should also mention I have friends over at the EAO. Good friends. In high places.”

Despite his red face, Joe visibly quailed. Carrie took the opportunity to tug him toward the break room Amanda had pointed out. He threw them a final furious glare before he followed.

“Sir,” began Amanda.

“No!” Francine exclaimed. “The decision’s made.”

Lee looked down at Amanda for a long moment, and realization came abruptly. Francine was right: a decision had been made. It just wasn’t the decision everyone thought it was.

“All right,” he said, fighting for his own control. His voice went gravelly from his efforts. “We’ll man comms. But you bring them both back,” he said, meeting Billy’s and Francine’s eyes in turn. “You hear me? Both of them.”

“Like we’d do anything else,” countered Francine. But then she sighed, shoulders dropping. “Both of them. I promise.”

---

As a rule, Lee didn’t like going into the break room; he could never quite ignore its stink of sweat and cigarette smoke. Amanda had told him once that she felt the same way. She only went in there when she had to.

Both of them went through the door without so much as a hitch in their steps.

Joe was at a table. Surprisingly, he was staring into a cup of coffee.

Lee sat down next to him. “I wouldn’t. The stuff out of that vending machine isn’t fit for human consumption. We have something better upstairs in the Q.”

“Is it coffee or something stronger?”

“Coffee,” said Amanda. “Well, okay, we do have stronger stuff up there, but it’s only for when someone’s getting too hysterical and it wouldn’t compromise anything if they ended up a little bit impaired.”

Joe’s stare became morose. “That wouldn’t be a problem right now.”

“Yes, it would,” she answered crisply, and despite everything, Lee found himself beginning to chuckle.

Carrie moved to stand next to where Joe was sitting. “Why? And what’s so funny, Lee?”

“The two of you,” he replied, even as he felt his momentary humor fade. “Thinking we’d actually take an order like that lying down. Especially when there’s communication equipment in our vans. This mission doesn’t need central coordination here.”

Amanda nodded. “There’s just one thing. If Lee and I tell you to stay back, you have to listen to us.” She held up her hands before anyone had time to protest. “I know. I know. That’s pot, kettle, and black. But the four of us are all Jamie has. If we all end up hurt, there won’t be anyone else for him.”

“Do you really think that’s how this would end up?” asked Carrie. Her hand twitched where it lay on Joe’s shoulder.

Lee took a breath and let it out. “It’s well within possible. I’ll be honest. I’d feel better if the two of you weren’t with us.”

That brought Joe to his feet. “Not a chance.”

“I know.” He paused. “Can either of you handle a weapon?”

“A gun?” asked Joe. “Don’t you remember I managed it with the Prime Minister? I needed one for protection a couple of times in Estoccia. And yes, I’ve pulled the trigger. On a practice range, at least.”

“I can’t,” said Carrie softly. “But if it’s something I can learn quickly —”

“No,” said Amanda, and her voice wasn’t without sympathy. “But there’ll be a lot of other things needing doing. Come on. Let’s go upstairs. We’ll need to go the back way, so the security officers don’t see us.”

“Upstairs? We’re not going to the car?”

“Upstairs,” said Lee. “We need to gear up. And get some of that actual coffee.”

---

Lee was startled when Amanda pushed Joe into the front passenger seat, instead choosing to sit in the minivan’s second row with Carrie. He could hear their voices murmuring behind him, but they were too quiet to make out any words. When he’d asked, Amanda’s answer had been far too smooth: I haven’t ridden in the back of this new car yet. Don’t you think I should?

He’d let it drop. Beside him, Joe appeared to be trying to stare a hole into the windshield.

“Easy,” said Lee. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

Joe gave him a terse nod. When he lifted his coffee mug for a drink, there was an audible sloshing sound.

“You, ah, you might want to take it easy on that, too. We probably won’t be able to get any more.”

“No coffee makers in your panel vans?”

“Don’t I wish.”

“Mm,” was the other man’s reply.

Lee sighed. “Look, if you’ve got something to say, now’s the time to say it.”

There was a pause before Joe answered. “Why aren’t you driving like you did before, on the way over to the house? I didn’t even know you could lay down tire rubber with a minivan.”

“Evasion,” replied Lee. “We don’t want to get too close to the Agency team until it’s past the point where Billy can send us back.” He used his head to indicate the glove compartment. “Why don’t you open that up.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, but he complied.

“Reach in and find the latch on the bottom. Feel it? Good. Press down and then pull up.”

The hidden compartment opened silently, and Joe gingerly reached in. When his hand came back out, he was holding an ankle holster and one of their backup pieces. “Is this legal?”

“We’re sworn law enforcement. There should also be an ammunition clip in there. Get that and then close the compartment and put those papers back so you can’t easily see it.”

He complied. “I take it this is one of those tweaks you were having done the day Jamie got into the fight.”

“Not then, but Amanda brought this into the Agency’s garage a couple days later.”

Joe hefted the pistol experimentally. “Why the secrecy?”

“Whole point of a clutch piece is the other guy doesn’t know you have it. You know how to load a Bobcat?”

Joe didn’t, but was able to follow Lee’s instructions for triggering the swing-up barrel. He handled the load well, keeping the muzzle pointed down at the baseboard or out the window the whole time. Lee relaxed at these indications that Joe did, in fact, know proper usage of a handgun.

“That thing won’t give you a lot of kick,” he explained, “and it’s bad for long distances. But up close, it might mean the difference between living and dying. You don’t need to tell Jamie about that compartment, by the way. Amanda knows, and there’s no more reason not to tell Carrie, but that’s enough. Which reminds me. Now that both of you know what we do for a living, it might not be a bad idea if I hooked you up with a couple of our combat instructors. Unless the IRC is already planning on teaching you self-defense, that is.”

Joe’s coffee mug rattled in one of the cup holders. “About that.”

“Now’s not the time.” The last thing either of them needed was to get into an argument right now. “Just think about it.”

“I have been, ever since I figured out you and Amanda were working together. You did an awful job of hiding that, by the way. I’m glad to see you’re more serious about your weapons.”

“‘Every gun is a loaded gun’,” quoted Lee. “All right. Looks like the Agency team’s going straight in. Maybe another forty minutes or so.”

“Where is ‘there’?”

“Bay Bridge Airport. Amanda heard sea gulls in Jamie’s and Zeta’s recordings.” He couldn’t help the faint smile that touched his lips. “That’s one of the reasons she’s so good. She notices everything.”

“But is that enough to keep her safe?” The timbre of Joe’s voice lowered. “I have a hard time believing she’s even willing to carry a gun. She hates them.”

“She’ll use them if she has to,” answered Lee. “And she’s actually not a bad shot. We’re always training, you know. If not on the range, on something else.”

“No,” said Joe shortly. “Nobody ever gave me that sort of information.”

“I wouldn’t let Amanda out here if I didn’t think she could hold her own. I’m the senior agent. All I have to do is say something to Billy and he’d put her back behind a desk until there’s a chance for a formal review.”

“She’d never forgive you.”

Lee chuckled. “Do you really think I’d tell her if I was the one who did it?” Then he sobered. “There’s no reason. She’s one of the best agents either he or I have ever seen, and we’ve both seen plenty come and go.”

“You’re not better?”

“I’m larger and stronger, better in a fight. And I’m more experienced. But that’s different from good or bad. What, did you think she was out here as window dressing or something?”

“She just…” Joe blew his breath out. “Her definition of rough-and-tumble is camping with a carload of tents and equipment.”

“That’s an asset.” He signaled his way around a tractor-trailer before glancing at the other man’s face. “Is that what’s had you worried? That she can’t handle herself in the field?”

“It’s not so much can’t handle, as it is shouldn’t have to handle.”

“It was her decision, Joe. She chose this. With her eyes wide open.”

“I know.” The other man sighed. “And I’m beginning to understand why. It’s that weird way her mind works, all those little side trips it takes, like hearing the sea gulls. That’s useful, isn’t it? And you didn’t question it, which means this wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. Is it?”

“Not even close. Which is why you ought to quit needling her about it. She’s not always as confident as she looks. Keep in mind, there’s no one at the Agency who would ever hesitate if it came to protecting her or her family. Nobody so much as touches them without us bringing down the hammer. They’re our own.”

“Does ‘family’ include Carrie and me?”

“What does that matter, if you’re not going to be around?” That came out more bitter than he’d really meant, but it was enough to push Joe back into that brooding silence. In the back, Carrie and Amanda’s voices had fallen into a cadence and rhythm, and he heard the faint rattle of beads. Praying, he realized, the same way he and Carrie had at the hospital, and which also explained why she’d climbed in the back. They finished about ten minutes before the end of the trip, and the remainder of it passed in silence.

When they got to the airport, he swung the minivan around behind one of the hangars. There were no people around, but that wasn’t unheard-of for a general aviation operation. Lee scanned the area as they got out; everything else seemed perfectly normal.

“What took you so long, Scarecrow?” Billy Melrose seemed to materialize out of thin air. “We’ve all been waiting.”

---

Author’s Note:

• Production of the Beretta 21A Bobcat semi-automatic pistol, which was designed for easy concealment, began in 1984 and continues today. Its “tip-up” barrel is considered a defining feature.

“Again.”

Even Lee’s expression had become difficult. “Why?”

“There’s something there.” Amanda twisted her hands together, aggravated.

“What’s there?” asked Joe in an overly controlled voice.

“I don’t know!” she exploded, surprising even herself. “But if I did, it’s all we’ve got, and —” her voice broke, and she suddenly realized there were tears streaming down her face again. “It’s all I can think of.”

Joe and Lee exchanged a glance. In the hours since they’d adjourned to this featureless room, the two men had reached some sort of tacit agreement. Amanda wasn’t sure which was worse: having them barely tolerate each other, or having them about to unite against her.

She shook her head before either of them could verbalize a response. “Don’t even start.”

Lee, who’d been bending toward her chair, awkwardly landed on his knees. “Don’t start what?”

“Trying to calm me down, or whatever it was the two of you are thinking about doing right now. Just replay the recording.”

“Amanda,” he began, and while his speech was soft there was an underlying burr of annoyance. “Crypto’s been at this thing forward and back, and you yourself just admitted you don’t know what it is you’re hearing. How many times have we replayed this by now?”

“Not nearly enough.” She couldn’t keep it from coming out as a snap.

“We’re also all running without sleep,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, and now that she was looking, she could see that his eyes were on the verge of bloodshot. “At the very least we should take a break.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling her throat threatening to close. “He’s my son.”

“He’s mine, too,” said Joe. His tone wasn’t as gentle as Lee’s, but it wasn’t harsh, either. “We aren’t going to get anywhere by playing that call over and over.”

“Maybe you can’t, but I intend to.”

“Amanda.” Now he sounded as unhappy as Lee.

“If you’re too tired, you can go to the barracks with Carrie,” she replied tersely. Joe’s wife had finally collapsed from exhaustion, and Francine had taken her to sleep in an actual bed. The other agent hadn’t yet returned herself, leading Amanda to suspect that Carrie wasn’t the only one who was getting some down time. “You can at least get some rest for yourself.”

He and Lee made eye contact again before he replied. “Only if you come with me.”

“No. I couldn’t sleep now if I wanted to.”

Lee pushed to his feet. “Amanda, don’t make me make this an order.”

“You wouldn’t.” He, of all people, should understand that she needed to be here!

He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I will if I have to. I’m the senior agent.”

Amanda was on her feet before she realized it. “How dare you!”

He circled around in front of her so that their part of this conversation could be more private. “Next to Joe and you, there is nobody who wants to find Jamie more than me. But we’re all exhausted, probably to the point of making mistakes that we don’t even realize yet.” His hands scrubbed through his hair. “Two hours. Then we can come back.”

“Lee!” she cried, feeling her pulse pounding at her temples. “Please. It’s already —” she glanced at the clock. “Oh, my gosh. It’s already ten-thirty. We only have six hours left!”

“Two hours, Amanda.”

Her lips compressed into a line, and she realized her mouth was dry. When was the last time she’d had anything to drink? “One.”

“Ninety minutes, and you have something to eat. That’s my final offer.”

“If I can listen to the recording one more time.”

Lee shook his head. “There’s nothing there that won’t still be there in an hour and a half.”

She suddenly understood: he didn’t expect to find Jamie before the deadline. Based on her ex-husband’s expression, neither did Joe. The surge of anger from earlier returned, beginning to segue into true rage. How could Jamie’s own father just give up like that? And how could her husband agree in the same breath that he’d argued he wanted Jamie back just as desperately as she and Joe did?

Amanda stalked over to the tape machine and rewound the recording herself before putting her headphones back on. “Start it again.”

The technician glanced nervously at Lee, who rolled his eyes. “One time only,” he instructed. “Then Sunlight’s going to the barracks even if I have to pick her up and carry her there myself.”

Oddly, the threat and his use of her code name steadied Amanda, and she felt her emotions settle. She took a deep breath, focusing her concentration, as the tape clicked back on.

“Stetson.”

“It’s me.”

The fear and relief were both unmistakable in Lee’s tone as he answered on the recording. “Jamie? Where are you?”

“I dunno,” came the reply. “Lee, I’m so sorry I ran away —”

Although she hadn’t recognized it at the time, Amanda had long since identified Lee’s harsh intake of breath, but his tone of voice, when it came back, was almost gentle. “We’ll worry about that later. Is there anyone there with you?”

“Yeah.” Jamie’s voice shook. “Couple of men with guns and there’s a lady, too. I don’t think she’s with them though. They’ve got us in a room together.”

“What’s her name?”

Amanda focused her awareness, trying to ignore her husband’s and son’s voices on the recording tape. Whatever it was she’d heard, it wasn’t in anything either of them had said. Had Zeta made some faint noise? Is that what she was hearing?

The recording continued, and she heard her own voice enter the conversation. “I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. But you just need to hang on for a little bit. Has anyone hurt you?”

“N-no,” came the response. “Well, they took my backpack.”

There was that faint sound again, and Amanda forced herself to listen, not to her son, but to the background noise. She’d heard something like that before, not too long ago, hadn’t she? But when? And where?

Her eyes opened wide. “Sea gulls!”

Joe’s eyes widened. “What?”

The machine’s wheels stopped with an audible click when Amanda switched it off. “In the background. I can hear sea gulls. They’re near a coast.”

Lee reached for the telephone. “Beaman? You’re the one on today? Well, good. Listen, we’ve got the second tape up here and we need an enhancement on the background noise.” He paused. “Bird calls.” Another pause. “Yes, ‘seriously,’ and we need this top priority for the case! I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Amanda and Joe accompanied him to the elevator. Ordinarily, Amanda would have gone into Beaman’s office with Lee, but since Joe needed an escort, she stayed out in the hallway instead. Absurdly, the situation reminded her of all the times Lee had told her to stay in the car, or some other supposedly safe place.

She hadn’t even realized she was swaying until Joe took her arms to steady her. “You’re falling asleep on your feet. You need some rest, even if it’s only an hour or two.”

Lee came back through the door. “We all do. Beaman says they need a minimum of two hours to do the work anyway. They’re also going to pull up Zeta’s proof-of-life video and analyze it for anything similar.”

“We should call T.P.,” she murmured, vaguely irritated that the words were coming out slurred. “He can identify the birds.”

“Francine or Billy can do that. Come on,” he said, and this time his tone turned firm. “It’s time to sleep.”

Was he really going to pull rank on her? She opened her mouth to protest, but then she saw the determined look on his face alongside the sadness in his eyes. Amanda wasn’t sure which one of them she was responding to when she simply nodded and followed.

---

“Yes,” came T.P.’s voice over the phone speaker. “Those are, in fact, sea gulls. American herring gulls, to be exact.”

“So he’s near the water,” Amanda surmised.

“Now, wait a minute,” said Lee. “Don’t sea gulls migrate inland this time of year? And these don’t sound like what I remember. When I’ve been to the beach, they’ve always sounded like someone’s mean laughter. But these sound like cats, or crows.”

“Very good, Lee.” T.P. sounded as though he were praising a precocious child. “Laughing gulls do migrate inland. But American herring gulls don’t. If you go out on the Delmarva, they’re everywhere this time of year.”

Amanda and Lee exchanged a glance before she asked the next question. “What makes you bring up Delmarva?”

“Well,” their friend began, “you did say you think they’re close by, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s a large flock. You can tell from their cries. Except that you don’t usually find American herring gulls north of Cape May during the winter. Since they don’t migrate inland, and since they’re presumably not well south of here, that pretty much means they’re somewhere along the Bay.”

“The Bay?” asked Lee. “Why not the ocean?”

“Listen to the water.”

“The water?” he repeated with an incredulous look.

“It’s coming in waves,” explained T.P., “but they’re not crashing. More like lapping. That’s too soft to be the ocean. I don’t hear a lot of cars, though, which means they’re probably not in a city or along the western shore. My guess is they’re on the other side of the Bay.”

Now that Amanda was listening herself, she also heard it. “T.P., I don’t know what I’m ever going to do to thank you for this. It means so much to us. We’ll owe you one.”

“No you won’t,” he answered before hanging up. “You just get out there and get your people.”

During the conversation, Francine had come in with the videotape from Zeta and set it up to replay. She was clearly seated somewhere indoors, but there were no other details to indicate where she might be. Analysis had been all over the tape trying to find something.

With this replay, though, all three of them closed their eyes to concentrate on listening. Amanda heard the waves, and the gulls, and an occasional car, but there was another type of engine too.

Lee sat up straight. “Helicopter traffic. And what sounds like an ultralight. You can tell from how fast the propellers are turning, and there’s a counter-rhythm to one of them. That’d be a tail rotor.”

Francine frowned, leaving the video playing in the background. “Great. So now we need to check out every little airport on the Eastern Shore.”

“Wait a minute,” said Amanda. “Play that last part again.”

Francine gave her a look. “You hear something else?”

“No,” she replied. “Look at her. Not at the surroundings. At her. You’ll want to go back a minute or two.”

Francine rewound and restarted. Zeta looked tired, and there was a bruise forming on one cheek, but she seemed calm and unafraid. “…they’ll include a written list of demands with this video. I’m also supposed to tell you I’m being treated well. They even brought me a porchetta sandwich and a Coke from the local depot. My…friends…say they’ve been breathing ‘Yankee air’ long enough, and want to go home. That’s why their deadline’s so short.”

Thinking furiously, Amanda signaled Francine to stop the recording. While she hated admitting it, doing so was far easier than it had been before the hour-and-a-half of sleep Lee had insisted she take. A part of her envied Joe and Carrie, who were still downstairs, twined around each other in one of the barracks’ single bunks.

She blinked back to the moment. “…clearly some sort of coded language,” Francine was saying. “Crypto’s made this a top priority, but we haven’t been able to break it. There’s a company called Yankee Air Services out of Easton Airport, but that lead didn’t pan out since there are no Italian restaurants there or anywhere close by.”

Lee shook his head. “I’ve flown Easton. It’s not close enough to the water to be where we want anyway, and there’s also a decent amount of traffic in the area.”

It hit Amanda suddenly. “Does Yankee Air Services have another location? Maybe at some other airport out there?”

“Yeah,” said Francine. “In Stevensville. That’s not near water either.”

“But Bay Bridge Airport is,” said Lee suddenly. “Don’t they have a Stevensville address?”

Amanda had already pulled the phone book down and retrieved it, turning to the map pinned up behind her, and suddenly her heart began thumping. “Look at this. Bay Bridge Airport’s address is on Airport Road, but that opens up off Romancoke Road.”

Francine shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t you see?” She couldn’t keep her voice from rising or her speech from accelerating. “The porchetto sandwich. Lee, didn’t you tell me once that they serve those as street food in Rome?”

“Yes,” he said, and by his intent expression, he was following right along with her. “A Roman sandwich and a Coke. Romancoke. She must have figured out where she is. How close to the water are they?”

Amanda pointed. It was right next to a marina. “Those other engines I heard. Could they have been from boats?”

“How much do you want to bet they were?” asked Lee as he grabbed his jacket. “Come on, let’s go.”

---

Author’s Notes:

• The different cries of American herring gulls and laughing gulls (which is what Lee is remembering) are as described.
• Bay Bridge and Easton Airports are actual general aviation fields and are located as described. Yankee Air Services is fictional.

The minivan’s headlights cut through the darkness as Lee turned off Wesley Chapel Road. Joe, who was seated directly behind him, took a deep breath to steady himself.

While he knew that Lee had gone through driver’s training for law enforcement, it had still been a hair-raising ride over from their townhouse complex. His ex-wife’s husband had coaxed out a level of speed and performance that he’d never imagined a family vehicle would have. Ordinarily it took five or ten minutes to drive to the house on Maplewood Drive. Lee made it in just over three.

With a squeal of tires, Lee parked the minivan in the driveway, ignoring the fact that the driver’s side wheels were on grass. They spilled out into the yard, Amanda racing toward the front door. “Jamie! Where are you?”

There was no response.

Lee appeared with flashlights, handing one to each of them. “Spread out. Joe, take the garage. Carrie, circle around to the back yard. I’ll go through the front.”

Joe felt his lips thin. “I don’t have a key to the garage anymore.”

With a sharp look, Lee dug his keys out of his pocket. “I assume you know which one.”

He took the keys and raced toward the garage, nearly crashing through the door before he managed to get it open. “Jamie!”

The garage was silent and empty. Amanda had moved everything out of it into a rented storage area, and Joe’s voice echoed in the cavernous space as he dashed toward the attic stairs. It took two pulls of the cord to get it down, bringing a cascade of dust and dirt with it.

Based on that, he wasn’t surprised to find nothing up there either. Dust was layered half an inch thick around the various surfaces.

Joe slid back down the stair rail, not bothering with the steps themselves, landing hard enough to twist a knee. He ignored it and ran across the floor back toward the door, which he’d left hanging open. “Not in here!”

Amanda came out onto the patio. “Or in here.”

Joe flung himself past her, switching on lights as he raced around the empty rooms. “Damn it!”

Lee came through the front door, breathing hard. “Nothing in the front yard either. Did anyone see his bike?”

“No,” panted Amanda, who had come back inside. “Everything’s just like we left it when we locked up the last time.”

“Check the yard again,” Lee directed her, handing over his flashlight. “See if there’s any evidence he’s been here and gone.”

“Right.” She raced away, her face showing the same determination that was on Lee’s.

She’d made a phone call on the way over, communicating in short bursts of jargon-filled sentences. Lee had periodically jumped into the conversation, using the same idiom, as they coordinated what sounded like an all-out search.

Was this, a part of Joe’s mind wondered, how they functioned on a case? If so, it was no wonder their success rate was so high. Joe had never seen Amanda like this before, cool and confident, projecting calm even though her hands had been shaking when she took the flashlight from Lee.

“Nothing,” said Carrie as she darted into the house.

“Including the bushes?” asked Lee.

“No. I’ll go check those.”

Joe and Lee weren’t far behind, which meant they were outside when they heard Amanda’s cry. “His bike!”

“Where?” shouted Joe as he ran toward her. “In the bushes? He never left it there before.”

She was clambering into the foliage some distance from where Carrie was checking, shoving branches and aside as she made her way to the bike. “No. Not like this. Lee!”

“What?” her husband called from outside the bushes.

“This looks like it was thrown in here. By an adult, or maybe even two. Which means —”

“Yeah. I know.” His expression was tense as he helped her back out into the yard. “Lock up, will you?”

“Lock up?” asked Joe.

“Yeah. We’re going to the Agency.” Lee indicated both him and Carrie, who had come up behind him. “Look, um, you both know what we do. There’ll be some things there that you can’t discuss or explain and we’re not always going to be able to answer questions.”

“I know,” snapped Joe.

Carrie laid her hand on his arm. “Let him finish. He has to do this.”

Lee nodded. “I need you both to promise me you won’t discuss anything you see or hear, unless you check with us first. We’ll take you in on our own authority, but we need to be sure you’ve agreed to that.”

“Of course,” said Carrie.

Joe nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Good. Thanks.” Taking his keys from Joe, he raced back around to the driver’s side, unlocking the sliding door so they could crawl onto the second-row bench. By the time they finished, Amanda was in the car, and once again there was the squeal of tires as Lee backed out.

---

“A lot of times, the waiting is the hard part.”

Joe looked up and saw one of Lee’s and Amanda’s co-workers standing there, two maroon-colored mugs in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “We’ve spoken before, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

Offering one of the mugs, the man sat down beside him on the couch. “Melrose. Billy Melrose. Director of Field Section, which means I’m the one who’s in charge of this circus.” He paused. “God only knows how many nights I’ve spent here, worrying what little detail I might miss because I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline.”

Joe nodded. Across the room, Amanda had her head bent over a grid, plotting something on it. Lee was sitting on the edge of her desk with several ragged-edged sheets of printer paper, alternating between reading out whatever was on them and pointing to places on Amanda’s — was it a map? A search pattern? Something else entirely?

Carrie joined them. She, too, was carrying a maroon mug, although hers had a cat-shaped ceramic charm clipped to the rim. A faint smell of chocolate came from it. She’d switched off the coffee, then, probably in an effort to stay calm.

The older man acknowledged her with a nod. “Mrs. King. I’m Billy Melrose.”

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Melrose.”

“Call me Billy,” he replied. “Since I’m not your supervisor.” He indicated Lee, Amanda, and a blonde woman who was seated in front of a radio set. “Most of my own people do that anyway. Amanda’s about the only one who doesn’t.”

“Then I’m Carrie,” she replied. The exchange was so quiet, so ordinary, when his son was out there somewhere…

Billy met both of their eyes in turn. “Listen, these three characters are one of my best teams. If Jamie is anywhere in the Capital Region, they’ll find him.”

“What about your agent?” asked Carrie. “Zeta, I think Lee said she’s called?”

“They’re coordinating with agents on that search too.”

Joe spoke up. “Do you think the two disappearances are related?”

“I really hope not.” Billy exhaled loudly. “Francine, you heard from Duffy or Monroe recently?”

“No,” said the blonde at the radio.

“Give them a call. They’re overdue for check-in.” His gaze came back to Joe and Carrie. “You’ll have to excuse me. But we’re not going to stop until we find both Jamie and Zeta. That’s a promise.”

Beside Joe, Carrie nodded. Her hand slid into his, small and warm, and he squeezed gently. She responded by laying her head on his shoulder.

A clock radio perched on one of the bookshelves read 3:18 a.m.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” he suggested. “There should be enough chairs around for me to let you have the couch.”

She lifted her head and shook it, but then sighed and nodded. “I’d rather share.”

“On this couch?”

She directed him to one corner of it and then lay down with her knees over his lap. They’d done this a few times before, on couches with a lot more stuffing. He was surprised how comfortable it was on this one.

“I’m glad we came,” murmured Carrie as she began to drift off. “It’s good to see how much everyone here cares. Makes me feel a lot more comfortable about knowing what they do for a living.”

He nodded, feeling his own attention starting to drift. “I’m glad too.”

---

The shrill of the telephone pulled him out of sleep. Lee picked it up at his desk. “Stetson.” There was a pause. “Jamie? Where are you?” He gestured frantically at Amanda, who picked up the extension at her desk and motioned Joe and Carrie over to listen.

On the other end of the line, Jamie’s voice was thin and scared. “Lee, I’m so sorry I ran away —”

Despite his obvious agitation, Lee kept his voice calm. “We’ll worry about that later. Is there anyone there with you?”

“Yeah. Couple of men with guns and there’s a lady, too. I don’t think she’s with them though. They’ve got us in a room together and only took me out ’cause they wanted me to make this phone call.”

Amanda looked up sharply, a question in her eyes, but Lee shook his head as he continued. “What’s the lady’s name?”

“I dunno. They come in and threaten us anytime we talk to each other.”

“Okay.” Lee’s hands clenched briefly. “Is she about five-seven, with short brown hair?”

“Uh-huh. Well, I can’t tell about her height, but she’s got short brown hair, a little curly but not much. She looks a little like you actually.”

Amanda put her hand over the bottom of her handset. “Zeta,” she whispered to Joe and Carrie.

Just then, there was a commotion on the other end of the line, and when Jamie’s voice came back it was shaking. “Look, the men with guns, they —” he sobbed, just once. “They said I haveta give you a message. That that’s why they let me call. And that your deadline’s up in twelve hours.”

The blonde woman at the communications console waved her arms at Amanda, who nodded before jumping into the conversation. “Jamie, it’s Mom.”

On the other end of the line, he began to cry.

“Shh, sweetheart. I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. But you just need to hang on for a little bit. Has anyone hurt you?”

“N-no,” said Jamie. Then he gulped. “Well, they took my backpack.”

“All right.” Amanda was still exchanging gestures with the woman at the communications console. “Are you able to describe the men for us?”

There was a long pause before Jamie audibly took a breath. “I don’t think so.”

Over at his desk, Lee clenched his fist again, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to. Did they…” she trailed off, looking at Joe. He shook his head, not at all certain what she was trying to say but knowing that they weren’t in a position to discuss it right now. “Did they tell you anything at all about this deadline we’re supposed to meet?”

“No,” came the answer.

Over at the communications console, the blonde snapped her fingers. Lee immediately laid down his handset and went over to her, looking at something before nodding to Amanda. It occurred to Joe that they had to have worked together before, very closely, if they were able to communicate like this.

“Okay,” said Amanda into the headset. “Okay. You’re doing just fine. Can you —” but then there was another commotion on the phone, and shouting in the background. Her voice went up an octave. “Jamie?”

There was the sound of scuffling, and then he came back on the line. “I gotta go, Mom. I love you. Bye.” Then the call cut off.

Amanda collapsed into her desk chair, shuddering and shaking. It took her three tries to get her phone’s handset back into the cradle, and tears were running down her face. Lee was at her side immediately, kneeling and wrapping his arms around her before pulling her against his chest. For a long moment, he simply whispered and stroked her hair as she cried, rocking them both gently. His own expression had become drawn and haggard.

Joe had to admit he felt the same way. If he had a mirror, he suspected, he’d have likely seen the same expression in it.

Then Lee looked over Amanda’s head at Joe and Carrie. “Thank you.”

“For what?” asked Carrie. There was a faint smear of blood on her lower lip from where she’d been chewing on it.

“Staying quiet. We needed to keep the conversation going as long as we could so that we could try for a trace.” He nodded at the blonde woman. “It looks like Francine got one. She also got a good recording of the call.”

Carrie was hanging on to Joe’s hand as though it were a lifeline. “Where’s Mr. Melrose?”

“Downstairs in the — in one of our other departments.”

“All of you just stay put,” said Francine. “I’ll go and get him.” There was a click as she locked the door behind her. For what seemed like the first time, Joe noticed the words Film Library stenciled on the outside. That certainly explained the film canisters stacked along one shelf, and possibly the large, safe-like door near the couch.

The clock radio on the bookshelf read 6:22 a.m. He and Carrie had only slept for about three hours. It had been pure exhaustion, and he wasn’t feeling particularly rested. He imagined Lee and Amanda, who had had things to do, likely hadn’t slept at all.

At the desk, Amanda straightened up and patted Lee’s shoulder before turning toward him. “I was worried I might scare him worse than he already was, and that he’d end up trying to do something and getting hurt.”

“Oh,” said Joe. “Was that what you were trying to tell me?”

“Yes. Thank you for staying quiet. We didn’t want them to know you and Carrie were on the line.”

“Why not?” asked Carrie.

Lee was on his feet now. “You never give terrorists more information than you absolutely have to. And you can bet they’ve got a watcher over at the townhouse complex. That’s why I had the two of you leave through the back door of your place and keep your heads down before we drove off. If we’re lucky, whoever was watching won’t catch on to the fact that the two of you are with us.”

“And if we’re not?”

The other man closed his eyes and shook his head. “It might be significant. It might not. Regardless, I don’t want to give anything away.”

Joe nodded and took a deep breath. “All right. What now?”

The door unlocked and opened, admitting Billy, who nodded to Joe and Carrie. Francine was a step behind him, looking tense. “Lee,” she began. “They bounced that thing all over the place. The trace is saying Montréal, but nobody down there believes it.”

“Neither do we,” replied Amanda. “So we’re stuck with the tape, is that it?”

Billy sighed. “Yes.”

She squared her shoulders. “Then let’s get to it.”

“Get to what?” asked Carrie.

“We have to listen,” said Billy. “Anything that could be a clue. Mr. and Mrs. King, I’d like you in on that too. We’re setting up in the first-floor conference room now.”

Joe felt Carrie’s hand slip into his. They might only be running on a few hours’ sleep, but for Jamie’s sake they could do just about anything.

At the sound of knocking, Carrie hurried to the door. Amanda stood on the other side of it, shivering in the cold. Carrie quickly ushered her in. She was halfway in when they both turned at the sound of running steps. Lee almost skidded as he turned the corner toward their doorstep, and he came in with her.

“And just where have you been?” snarled Joe from the entrance to the kitchen.

“At work,” said Amanda, her chin coming up.

“At eleven o’clock at night? What could you possibly have been working on, that kept you too late to have dinner with your family?”

“There was an emergency.” Amanda’s voice was firm. “I called around 3:30 and left a message on the machine, telling Jamie to come over here and have dinner with you. I also said I’d pick him up as soon as I could.”

“An emergency,” said Joe, his anger still in full force. “An emergency. Something more important than your own son? I would think you’ve learned better by now.”

“Hey,” broke in Lee. “Watch it.”

“You watch it! We didn’t even know he was missing until we got the automated call from the school!”

Carrie laid a hand on Joe’s arm. “Joe, please.” Then, turning to Lee and Amanda, she continued, “We tried going over to your unit, but it was locked and dark. That’s when we called you, Amanda.”

Amanda nodded. “What are you talking about, automated call from the school?”

Joe harrumphed, but his voice was calmer. “The one reporting he was absent today.”

Now Amanda rounded on him. “Excuse me? He left with you, and you said you’d drop him off! Did you forget, or was something in your work more important?”

“Don’t start!” But Joe had dropped his gaze. “I did drop him off. On the sidewalk outside the main entrance. The ride had been…Amanda, you know what kind of a mood he was in after the session. It didn’t get any better, but when I dropped him off, he just closed the door, waved, and headed toward the entrance.” He sighed. “Before you ask, no, I didn’t actually see him go in. He’s in seventh grade! I shouldn’t need to!”

“No,” said Lee. “And you wouldn’t have needed to worry about it under normal circumstances. But you knew these weren’t, because you were in that session! Why didn’t you at least suspect something?”

Echoing Carrie’s earlier motion, Amanda laid a hand on Lee’s arm. “Lee. There was no reason. Jamie’s never acted up this badly before.”

That, at least, got everyone to shut up for a minute, and Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. “While we were waiting for you, Amanda, I made some hot chocolate. You look like you might need it.”

Amanda exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “Thank you. It’s cold outside, and I left my coat at the office.”

Lee wrapped an arm around her waist. “And there is an emergency at work. A big one, and it’s related to Phillip’s and Dotty’s case. I was out in the field, but I got over here as quickly as I could after Billy told me what happened.”

Carrie stopped and turned back to look at him. “What happened?”

Lee frowned at her. “I just told you what happened. After Billy called me, I got here as quickly as I could.”

“No,” she clarified, taking a step back toward the other three. “What happened with the case? And I thought you weren’t allowed to work on it. Isn’t that right?”

Amanda and Lee exchanged a long look, and then he took his coat off, laying it on their usual love seat, before pulling his wife down and settling next to her. “It’s all hands on deck. If you’ll bring in the hot chocolate, we’ll tell you everything.” His gaze slid over. “While we’re waiting, maybe Joe can catch us up a little more.”

Joe collapsed onto a chair. “I’ve told you all I know. Jamie apparently skipped school today. Carrie didn’t find out until he wasn’t on the bus back to her school. That was hours afterward. Goodness knows how far away he already was by then.”

By then, Carrie was in the kitchen, so any reply that either Lee or Amanda might have made was muffled. She was breathing heavily, but forced herself to calm down as she poured the chocolate. She put a splash of peppermint-flavored liqueur into one of them, marking the mug by folding the napkins into the handle. Carrie had never learned how to manage the taste of it herself, but Joe loved it; and he certainly had sounded like he needed a little extra.

As she started carrying the tray out, Amanda’s voice rose again. “…no, leaving is what you do! Have you even told him you’re going to Ivory Coast yet?”

Carrie bit her lip as she handed out chocolate. “No,” she jumped in, “we haven’t. He’s been in no shape to hear it, and —”

“— and there are some things we need to confirm before we say anything anyway,” said Joe. He tasted the hot chocolate and smiled at her over the rim of the cup.

“What kind of things?” demanded Lee.

“Some questions needing answers,” said Carrie shortly, not wanting the conversation to get off-track. “Right now we’re more worried about Jamie.”

“As well you should be!” snapped Amanda. “How did you miss the fact that nobody was home at our place?”

“Believe it or not, we’re not always checking on what you’re doing over there!” yelled Joe. “It’s not like you leave a lot of clues for everyone to look at anyway!”

“Wait just a —” Carrie started. They ignored her and continued arguing right over her objection, but were finally interrupted by a sharp whistle from Lee. Amanda dropped her eyes to her mug. Joe scowled at his toes.

Lee glanced over at her. “What were you saying, Carrie?”

She reminded herself that she and Lee had to be the cool heads here, since Joe and Amanda were both justifiably petrified. “I said, wait just a minute. This isn’t about blame. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Jamie for skipping school. Has he done it before?”

Amanda shook her head, her eyes still on her drink.

“Not even once?”

“That wouldn’t be like Jamie,” said Joe. He’d softened his tone, but Carrie could still hear the tension underneath. “He’s a rule follower, not a rule breaker.”

“Then we need to figure out where he might have gone!” Carrie told them. “You can’t tell me he’s never feigned illness or something to get out of going to school. Every student does that sooner or later.”

Amanda sighed. “No. But it was usually because he hadn’t studied for a test. He never cut out from the house when he was ‘questionably’ sick.”

“He probably knew better than to push his luck,” said Joe. “Especially while Dotty was still around.”

“So we don’t have anything to start from?” asked Lee. “Is that what you’re saying? That we’ll have better luck pulling a rabbit out of a hat than we will figuring out where he would have gone?” He shook his head. “Zeta’s still out there with the clock ticking.”

“Perhaps,” said Carrie, “you should tell us about that.”

Lee lifted the mug to his lips and took a long swallow. “This is good, Carrie. Doesn’t taste like a store mix.” Then, before she could remind him of her question, he continued. “We’ve had a pair of agents working this case, Francine Desmond and Nancy Zusterakos. Nancy’s usually called Zeta since that’s easier to say.” In a few short sentences, he explained the current situation, including the note they’d found in her research and the deadline in the video message. “Crypto is still working on the note she left, but she wouldn’t have made it too difficult to figure out. I expect they’ll decipher it soon.”

Joe had a look of horror on his face. “You mean to tell me that this wasn’t about Amanda or you at all? That these East Germans may have been targeting Phillip? Over a school project?”

“That,” said Amanda, “is why we’re trying to find out how he really got the Segal Report. In his paper he claims three media sources, but we checked those already and none of them ever printed a copy of the report. I suppose he could have gone over to a university to see if they had a copy in their stacks, and I guess it would have had to have been one of the larger ones since they do more scientific research. But they probably wouldn’t have had a copy, either, since everything was all so new. I have no idea how Phillip got hold of that report, but something tells me that if we can figure that out, we can figure out who’s behind this and where we can find them. Francine and Zeta had eliminated a number of possibilities, but they hadn’t yet found one that actually makes sense. That report’s been kept under a lot of wraps and —” she broke off, turning to Lee. “Has anyone been over to our townhouse?”

“Not since we checked earlier,” said Carrie. “Do you want me to go over there?”

“No,” said Lee, standing up. “You and I are going up to his room here to see if we find anything out of the ordinary.” He held up a hand as Joe began to protest. “We have outside eyes, Joe. We won’t inadvertently miss something that you might, simply because you’re used to it.”

Joe clamped his lips down, but his eyes were shooting daggers.

“I’ll go over to our townhouse,” said Amanda. “If I can borrow a coat.”

Lee picked his up off the love seat and wrapped it around her. “We’ll be over in a little bit to go through his room there.”

“What about me?” asked Joe.

“You dropped him off,” said Lee. “So we know he took off from Swanson. What route might he have taken when he did that?”

“How am I supposed to figure that out?”

“Look at a map, find anyplace that might have caught his interest. Call around, see if anyone saw him earlier today. Anything could help.” He paused. “The quicker we solve this, the quicker we can get back to looking for Zeta.”

Joe was staring at him. “You’d put Jamie ahead of her?”

“He’s family.” The tone of his voice brooked no arguments. “Carrie, let’s go upstairs.” He gave Amanda a quick kiss before she left.

They searched in silence, starting at opposite corners of the room and working toward each other. Then Carrie heard a soft curse.

“What is it?” she asked.

Lee mutely held up the pamphlet he’d found in the kitchen a few days earlier. “It was hidden between the mattress and box spring.”

She felt her heart plummet. “Oh, no. How did he get that? I put it away after you left the other night. In Joe’s and my bedroom.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lee. “What matters is that he knows about your deployment.”

Carrie had to fight the urge to curl up in a defensive ball. Stop that, she chastised herself. Lee’s not angry at you.

“Hey.” The word drew her out of her ruminations. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Let’s see what else we can find.”

But Lee didn’t start searching again. Instead he came over and hunkered down next to her. “Fight-or-flight’s not something you can ignore. Take a break.”

“I can’t afford the time.”

“Carrie.” His voice was firm. “Take a break.” Then he leaned forward, reaching for her but not quite touching. “You think I haven’t figured out you’ve been through some rough stuff, or that you’ve been getting triggered by some of what’s happened the last few weeks? Are you seeing anyone about it? Getting help?”

She hung her head. “Not right now. But I did do several years of therapy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right.” There was sympathy in his voice now. “But don’t forget that you need to take care of yourself. You’re like Amanda that way. Pushing your own needs aside in favor of everyone else. There are days I’ve had to physically pull her away from something or someone, just to get her to rest normally. Does Joe know?”

She nodded, noticing that her breathing had become more even. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I’ve settled down.”

“If you get worked up again,” he said, “all you have to do is just say something. I’m…” his eyes briefly went distant. “Agents face trauma on a regular basis. We know what it can do. Neither Amanda nor I would ever judge you if you stepped back.”

At that, she actually managed to smile. “I’m all right, right now.”

“Good.” He stood up and went back to searching around the bed. Carrie did the same with the bookshelf, shaking her head. Those had been the actions of a friend. Could she and Lee be friends, given the tension that sometimes existed between Joe and Amanda? Oddly enough, she realized she hoped so.

Her hands pushed another book aside, causing a spiral-bound notebook to fall from the back of the bookshelf. Why had Jamie hidden that back here? Picking it up, she started leafing through it. “Lee, come look at this. The dates, I mean.”

He did, and his eyes widened. “This wasn’t an impulsive reaction to this morning’s assessment,” he breathed. “Jamie was planning to run away, and has been for a while.” He began flipping through the pages, and then his eyes met hers. “And he knew where he was going to go.”

“I think we’ve found what we’re looking for,” she agreed. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Just as they got there, the front door opened, admitting a wild-eyed Amanda. “He’s been in his bedroom, sometime after we left for the Agency this morning. His duffel and some clothes are gone, and his bike’s missing. So is that transit pass that had been in Phillip’s book bag.” She was panting, having trouble getting the words out. “He took advantage of us moving to a townhouse just over the line from our old school district, and on the city bus routes. He didn’t just skip school. He ran away.”

Lee held up the notebook. “We know.”