Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King isn't mine (surprise, surprise). Read this for fun and keep an open mind. All copyrighted things mentioned in the story are the property of their respective owners and no infringement was intended (although it may have occurred).
Rated: PG-13-ish (there are some controversial parts implied—but no explicitness) Some notes and apologies at the end.
Author: MargravineMaKaM (MargravineMaKaM@juno.com)
Summary: Lee and Amanda realize just how deep their feelings run, when Lee disappears and Amanda has to find him.
Timeline: Right after "We're off to see the Wizard"
Title: A Day Like None Before
"I'm going into work early, mother," Amanda King called from the kitchen as she cleaned up the remains of breakfast. She sighed as she quickly washed the dishes. Her boys were old enough to clean up after themselves. That they hadn't annoyed her but saddened her at the same time. They were growing up without her.
"That's nice, dear," Dotty West called absently from the living room, unaware of the melancholy thoughts running through her daughter's head. She was engrossed in the morning news. "Just call if you're going to be late again. You forgot last night, and I was starting to get worried."
"I will, mother," Amanda answered putting the last dish in the cabinet, drying her hands, and heading for the front hall closet. She got out her coat and was just heading out the door when her mother called her back.
"Amanda! Before you leave, you have to see this!"
"What is it, mother? I'm kind of in a rush." She was supposed to meet Lee at the Agency, and at the rate she was going, he would be there long before her. In fact, as she checked her watch, he should be arriving there any minute. Amanda walked back into the house anyway. Her mother never cried wolf. She walked into the den expecting to see on the news a riot, or a war, or a peace treaty being signed. Instead, all she saw was the anchorwoman. "What?" Amanda asked again, not getting it. It was the same anchorwoman on every morning.
"Look," was all Dotty would say as she stared, engrossed at the television.
Amanda came up behind her mother staring intently at the set, but could see nothing that would excite her mother like that. "What?" Amanda asked again.
"Shh!" Dotty hushed her with a wave of her hand. "They've caught some sort of spy!"
"What?" It was the only thing Amanda could think of to say. Usually when spies were caught, it wasn't made public. Certain countries didn't like to have that sort of thing publicized.
"Listen."
Amanda focused on the woman on TV. "And so, recapping our top story for this morning, this station received a notice from a radical terrorist group that claims to have captured an American Federal Agent—codename "Scarecrow" and will be auctioning said agent off to the highest bidder in the next week. The group claims that the "Scarecrow" has vital national information that many of America's opponents would pay top dollar for. They also intend to auction off the Scarecrow's partner, but offer no more information than that. The government has neither denied the existence of an agent called Scarecrow nor have they confirmed it. We will continue to try to get more information on this breaking story."
The anchorwoman turned to her co-anchor and they began to chat about the state of a world where spies were auctioned like property, not even realizing the bombshell they had dropped on one homemaker from the suburbs.
Amanda's face had gone white at the first mention of the name Scarecrow, but her mother hadn't noticed. She grabbed onto the back of the sofa for support. She was going to faint. She had never fainted in her life—disarming bombs, staring down terrorists, having guns pointed at her—none had caused her to faint. But she knew she was going to faint. Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to focus on the rest of the broadcast.
"Can you believe that, Amanda?" Dotty said, shaking her head as she watched the screen. "Auctioning off a man as though he were property. And a spy at that!" When she heard no response from her daughter, she turned around. "What do you think, dear? Amanda? Honey, are you all right? You are as pale as a sheet. I don't think you should go in to work today. You just don't look well."
"What? Oh, I'm fine mother, I have to get going, bye," Amanda walked off in a daze. Her eyes were very wide and the white showed all around her pupils. She considered calling Lee at his apartment, but decided that getting to work was the fastest way to get information. She had to get to the Agency. It had to be some sort of sick joke.
Dotty just watched her daughter leave shaking her head. "She is working too hard."
***
Amanda didn't even remember the drive into work. One minute she was at home, the next she was at I.F.F. She walked in the front door, blew by Mrs. Martsen without even attempting the password, and got into the closet-elevator with the same glazed look in her eyes and dazed expression on her face. Mrs. Marston just watched her with sympathy, and as Amanda disappeared, she pressed a button to warn Mr. Melrose that Mrs. King had arrived. Somehow, Amanda got off on the right floor and walked down to the bullpen—once again without the memory of pressing the button or the elevator ride. The room was buzzing with activity, but all noise stopped as she stepped through the door. She didn't even notice. She just threaded her way through the milling agents toward Billy's office. She didn't pay attention to the looks of pity on her coworkers' faces; she just focused on her goal. On making it to Billy without fainting, or crying, or having a psychotic episode.
Mindlessly, she opened the door without even knocking and numbly sat in one of the seats. Her usual seat. Lee's was empty. Billy and Francine watched all this with concern. They knew that the office would be the first place that Amanda contacted. Billy just looked at his distraught agent with sympathy. Francine surprisingly refrained from one of her characteristically tart comments. Mrs. Marston had alerted them that Amanda was coming down and that she was a little out of it. A little didn't quite describe it.
"I guess you saw the news this morning," Billy said, initiating the conversation.
"Actually, my mother saw it," Amanda replied in a quiet voice that surprised her. She didn't sound very different, but she sure felt older than she had when she woke up that morning, less than an hour ago. Abstractly, she wondered at how much a person's world could change in an hour. "She called me over. Of course she didn't recognize exactly who the Scarecrow was, but I did. Did Lee come in this morning? We were supposed to meet early to finish up some work." Her eyes begged Billy to tell her that is was some sort of joke.
"No, he hasn't arrived yet," Billy reluctantly admitted. "Until we hear from him we are going to assume that what was on the news was valid."
"Do we have any leads?" Amanda asked. Working was better than thinking.
"Not really. The group claiming responsibility is new. As for Lee, as soon as we heard about it, we sent some men to Lee's apartment. He wasn't there. Did he say he was going anywhere?"
"No," Amanda replied, glad to be figuring it out. "I was at his place until about ten last night." At Francine's surprised look she explained, "We were going over paperwork related to a case. I left, and we agreed to come in early today to finish it. He didn't say he was going anywhere."
"Were you two working on any other cases that this might be related to?"
"Not that I know of. Lately, all we've been doing is catching up with the paper work. Certainly nothing that would generate this kind of grudge."
"Then it had to be random or due to one of your past cases," Francine put in. Amanda just shook her head, indicating her ignorance.
"All right," Billy said. "We need to get right on this. We are going to assume that the terrorists have Lee until we learn otherwise. Amanda, I want you and Francine to head over to Lee's apartment and see if anything is different from when you left yesterday. We need to pin down the time he left and who he was with." He turned to Amanda and said, "I especially want you to be careful, Mrs. King. The group talked about auctioning off Scarecrow and his partner as a package deal. Since you are his partner, we have to assume that they meant you."
"Sir, my family..."
"We have agents surrounding you house right now; they'll be safe. Get going."
Francine contented herself with a nod.
"Yes, sir," Amanda said, wondering why she would be important. She had very little security clearance and knew practically nothing about any other government agency.
"Get going then," Billy dismissed them.
Amanda and Francine left the office. All the agents in the bullpen looked at them surreptitiously. Only one got up and intercepted them as they were leaving. Fred Fielder gently took Amanda's arm. "Good luck," he said, sincerely. Amanda was surprised to hear this coming from a man who had been competing with Lee for as long as she had been a part of the Agency, perhaps even longer. "Lee and I haven't gotten along very well for a long time, but nobody here wants him to be auctioned off like a piece of meat. Everyone here wishes you well."
"Thank you, Fred," Amanda said. "We certainly intend to find him before the day is out."
With that the two women walked out of the room, and activity slowly resumed its normal pace. No agent liked to think about being caught by someone who would sell them to the other side. Sell them like they were not a human but an object.
***
Amanda and Francine arrived at Lee's apartment building. Amanda looked down the street saying worriedly, "Lee's car is still there." She nodded toward the Corvette she knew very well. They inspected the car, but nothing was amiss.
Francine nodded gravely, "Wherever he went, he didn't take the car."
They walked into the building, and Amanda nodded to the doorman with whom she was well acquainted.
"Morning, Mrs. King," he called to her as she and Francine walked by. "Long time no see," he joked as though he hadn't said goodbye to the woman less than ten hours ago.
"Good morning, Bert," Amanda greeted him, trying to smile. Realizing that he might have some information they could use, she detoured to talk to the man. "Bert," she began, "did Mr. Stetson leave after I did?"
"Gosh, I don't know," Bert said straightening his hat. "I went off duty shortly after you left, Mrs. King. He hadn't left by then."
"Thank you, Bert," Amanda said.
"Who replaced you?" Francine asked.
"Oh, Mr. Ricard. He came in a little early last night and relieved me."
"Thank you," Francine nodded and the two continued on their way. When they were out of earshot, Francine continued, "There are no security cameras in the lobby so we won't be able to see them, but we do need to find this Mr. Ricard and question him."
"After we check the apartment," Amanda amended.
"Right," Francine agreed as they walked up the stairs.
They walked down the hall to Lee's apartment. Francine tried the door, expecting it to be open and the other agents to be in there. To her surprise it was locked. Muttering a curse, she reached in her purse for her lock pick set. Amanda grabbed her hand before she could find it and dangled a key in front of the blond woman's face. Francine gave Amanda a look of surprise as she took the key. Amanda just shrugged; she didn't have to explain anything to Francine. Besides there was nothing really between her and Lee but friendship. Deep friendship, but only that. Francine took the key and put it in the lock. She cautiously opened the door. Seeing no one there, she beckoned Amanda in.
"O.K. You look around see if anything is different. I'm going to find out what happened to those other agents," Francine said picking up the phone.
Amanda began to look around the apartment, trying to remember where everything had been the night before. She was careful not to disturb anything as Francine checked back with the office.
Suddenly, the door was flung open and two armed men in business suites burst through the door. They leveled their weapons at Francine and Amanda. There was tense moment as the two groups faced each other.
Francine finally broke the stand off by snapping, "Cypress, Titan, where were you two? You were supposed to stay here."
The other agents put their guns away and stepped into the room. "We saw a man roaming around the building and decided to check him out. How did you get in? We locked the door before leaving," one said. He turned to Amanda and introduced himself. "Cypress," he said with a nod.
Amanda nodded and showed him the key. "We used the key," she explained.
Francine hung up the phone and turned to the other two. "Billy has put us on the case," she said. "Amanda was here last night and it trying to see if anything is different. You two haven't moved anything?" she asked suspiciously.
Titan laughed, "We aren't first year recruits, Desmond. Besides we only had enough time to determine that Stetson wasn't here when we saw that guy." Cypress just nodded. Then they both flicked their gazes up and down Amanda. Neither recognized her, but if she was Stetson's girlfriend, she might be important to the case.
Francine realized that the three hadn't met and explained, "Amanda King is Lee's partner. Amanda, Cypress and Titan are on the floor below ours. They usually specialize in internal matters."
Both men exchanged knowing looks when they heard that the King woman was Stetson's "partner." They both knew the man's reputation and seeing the pretty lady, he obviously lived up to it. Amanda caught the look, but knew denying that there was anything between her and Lee would have been pointless. And in her case, a lie. So, she just ignored the two men and concentrated on the room. The files they had been going over were still on the table, along with a cup of coffee. Amanda remembered that Lee had been making coffee as she was leaving, intending to do some more work before going to bed. The coffee cup was only about a quarter full. So, Lee had been interrupted while he had been drinking it or he had left the remains and gone to bed. Or, Amanda admitted, he had gotten another early this morning. She carefully touched the coffee. Cold. Very cold. Amanda looked at her watch and saw that it was only seven forty-five. If Bert had come on duty at six, and Amanda knew that Lee never got up any earlier than five-thirty, the coffee would have been warmer than it was. It must have been from the night before. Looking over the papers on the table, oblivious to the scrutiny of the other agents, she noticed some more notes in Lee's handwriting. Not very many. The pen she had used was still on the floor where it had fallen as she had gotten up the night before. She remembered reaching down to pick it up, and Lee telling her that he would get it before he stopped for the night. She began to walk to the kitchen looking around when something hit her. She turned around and saw the three agents still by the door. Cypress started to move toward her.
"Stop," she commanded in a voice that wasn't to be disobeyed. She walked toward the door, looking at the carpet. It was very plush and held imprints very well. Lee had mentioned yesterday that he had had the maids in that afternoon. Only she and Lee had walked on it since then. She recognized her own prints by the heels and there was only one other type on the floor. "Whoever took Lee," she said, "didn't come into the apartment. He or she must have stayed at the door."
"How can you tell?" Titan practically sneered. He still didn't believe this woman was able to do any real work. Stetson didn't usually pick them for the brains in their heads.
"They didn't leave any footprints," Amanda explained patiently. She pointed to the carpet. "Look, it was just vacuumed yesterday." She pointed out the ones she had made around the sofa and table. "I made these last night. Those are Lee's," she nodded to the man's prints that also were around the table on the other side. They also went toward the kitchen. "He made those when he got our coffee." Looking carefully around the room, seeing none heading towards the bedroom, she said, "He was kidnapped before he could go to bed. It couldn't have been much after I left. He didn't make many notes. And whoever came, interrupted him. The coffee is half finished, and the notes leave off in the middle of the sentence."
The other three agent's eyes widened at her logic. Amanda ignored them and continued with her idea about what had happened. "Someone had him under surveillance. They saw me leave. Lee went to get some more coffee and get some more work done. He was able to get some notes taken, chug some coffee, but the doorbell rang, interrupting him. He walked over to the door. It must have been someone he recognized, or else he wouldn't have opened it. The rest, they say, is history." Amanda's attempt at levity was decidedly without enthusiasm.
The other three just stared at her. The two men still couldn't believe that this woman had deduced all that from a cup of coffee and some slightly visible footprints in the carpet. Francine for her part was also stunned. She had always wondered why Lee put up with the frumpy housewife from the suburbs, but now seeing her in action, Francine wondered just how many of the cases that Lee had solved in the past few years were due to this woman. She could see that she had seriously underestimated Amanda King.
Amanda walked to the cluster of agents at the door, shooing them out. "I think we are done here for now. And I don't believe that Mr. Stetson would appreciate us going through his things more than necessary." They all left the apartment, and Amanda locked it up.
Francine backed the brunette up. "We have things well in hand here, boys. You should get back to the office and see where you are needed." Slightly put out, the two men left.
Amanda turned to Francine and said, "I think we need to interview that Mr. Ricard. He either let the person in or it was him."
Francine nodded and they made their way back down to the lobby.
Bert was at his usual place by the door. "Did you talk to Mr. Stetson?"
"No," Amanda admitted. "He must have left before we came. You said you didn't see him leave, right?"
Bert nodded.
"Well could we talk to Mr. Ricard?" Francine asked, innocently. "We need to find out when he left."
"I'm sure Pat would be happy to talk to you, but he already left. He is only on the graveyard shift. I prefer to be here during the day."
"So we should come back tonight?" Francine asked.
"No," Bert said, "Tonight is his night off."
Amanda nodded in acceptance of this. "I've never met Mr. Ricard," she said. "Is he new?"
"Sort of," Bert admitted, happy to be a help to Mrs. King. She was always polite to him, never pretending he was beneath her or invisible as some of Mr. Stetson's previous girlfriends had. "He's been here for four weeks or so. And you've probably never met him, Mrs. King because he comes on duty after you've left."
That last comment caused Francine to wonder just how much time Amanda was spending at Lee's place. With a mental shake of her head, she decided it was nothing. Amanda and Lee—it was laughable. If there was one thing Francine knew about Lee it was that Amanda was definitely not his type.
"Well," Amanda was still talking to the doorman, "do you have a picture? I keep thinking maybe I have seen him and just can't place his face."
"Well," Bert said going behind the desk and digging through a drawer, "here is his badge. It has a picture on it."
Amanda took the plastic card and looked carefully at it, fixing the picture in her mind. She sighed and handed it back, "You're right, I've never met him." She looked at her watch and asked, "What time does he get on?"
Bert looked at her strangely before replying, "At about 11:30 or so."
"And he was early yesterday?" Francine put in.
"Yeah, he said he had some stuff to do." Bert shook his head. "Why all of the questions? Did something happen? Mr. Stetson is a friend and..."
Amanda decided to be straight with the kindly old man. "Lee didn't show up for work this morning. I was with him late last night, and we were just trying to figure out where he disappeared to."
"Well," Bert said anxiously, "If I see him, I'll tell him you are looking for him."
"Would you?" Amanda asked gratefully. "Also if Mr. Ricard comes in for any reason, would you call this number. We want to talk to him, too."
Bert nodded, agreeing and the two women walked out onto the street.
"To the TV station?" Amanda asked as they got into Francine's car.
Francine nodded and started the engine.
***
They pulled up in front of the station that had broken the news of Lee's kidnapping. Francine turned to Amanda and said, "Let me handle this one, okay? I've had more practice being an officious government agent."
"Good cop, bad cop?" Amanda asked, getting out of the car.
"Modified with a twist," the blonde woman said, also getting out of the car.
Amanda nodded, pretending she knew what Francine's amendment meant. She figured she would just go along with the flow. They pushed open the glass door of the skyscraper and Francine strode confidently up to the front desk, pulling out her badge.
"F. Desmond, Agency," she told the receptionist. "Our office should have contacted you?" Francine's voice suggested that the receptionist had better have heard something or heads would roll.
"Oh," the lady behind the desk said. "Yes. Um...all federal agents are being directed to the third floor."
Francine raised one of the perfectly tweezed eyebrows at the woman. "And what is on the third floor?" she asked, looking down her nose at the shaking woman.
"That's where they are answering all questions," the woman replied nervously.
"Francine," Amanda said, stepping into her good cop role, "There's no need to be mean." Amanda turned to the receptionist and said, "Could you give us directions?"
The woman was grateful to be helping the nicer Agent. "Here is the room number," the woman quickly scribbled out something on a pad and was about to give it to Amanda but at Francine's imperious command, gave it to the blonde woman.
Francine took the paper and turned to the elevator without another word. Amanda followed silently behind her after giving the receptionist a look of apology. They pushed the button for the elevator, and Amanda started to say something, but Francine stopped her with a shake of her head. The elevator arrived and the two women got in. They were the only ones in the car, and Francine nodded at Amanda for her to say what she had to say.
"All the federal agents?"
"Lee has lots of information about many different departments. It is likely that they all want him back." Francine sighed, "It might make our job tougher. We might have to dodge other agents to do our investigating." She paused. "Unless we convince them from the start that we mean business."
Amanda nodded, accepting this. She was quiet for the rest of the short elevator ride. The elevator stopped, and it may have just been Amanda's nervousness but the drop as it stopped seemed much worse than any elevator she had ever been on. The doors opened and Francine and Amanda started down the hall.
They stopped at the door marked on the paper and entered. In the room, which was obviously a small pressroom, milled about seven other feds. Amanda recognized none of them from the Agency. The rest of the government must be very worried. All the men turned stare as Amanda and Francine entered the room. Francine flashed her badge saying, "Agency." Several of the men raised their eyes and others looked at them with sympathy. They knew how embarrassing it would be for the Agency to lose this one.
"Have we started yet?" Francine asked coolly, not dropping her professional attitude.
"Actually, no," one of the more officious looking men answered. "We were waiting for the Agency representative to show up."
Francine just looked at him, saying nothing.
One man dislodged himself from the crowd. He got up on the stage and cleared his throat. "I have been instructed to give you everything we have," he began nervously. "At approximately six-thirty this morning a man came in with an envelope. It was addressed to this station and had the word "urgent" written on it. One of our producers opened it. Seeing it as newsworthy material, he instructed the anchorwoman during a commercial to report it. The news was broadcast at 6:46 a.m. and again at 7:00 a.m. We have had no further contact since then."
"Do you have any footage of the man?" Amanda asked.
"We are right now reviewing our surveillance camera records from the lobby and from the outside. When we have something, we will let you know." The man seemed to be finished.
Francine got up and stood in front of the men. She began, without clearing her throat, and said clearly with authority, "The Agency will be handling this. You are of course allowed to conduct your own investigations, but we have final authority. This is an Agency matter, and a personal one. We will be sure to keep your departments informed." Francine looked at the men, challenging them to contest her authority. None of them did, and by ones and twos they left the room.
Amanda turned to the speaker. "Mr. ..." she began.
"Griffin," he supplied. "Here is the original note." He handed a small piece of paper to Amanda.
Amanda looked at it before handing it over to Francine.
"Typed," the blonde woman said, "untraceable." Still she folded it up and put it in her purse.
Amanda turned back to Mr. Griffin. "We would appreciate seeing all of your tapes."
"Of course, Miss.."
"Mrs. King," Amanda said. "Ms. Desmond," she continued, nodding at Francine.
"The security room is right this way," Griffin said, leading the way out the door. He continued to talk as they walked down the hall. "I wasn't here when it happened. The producer is new and looking to make a name for himself. Usually when we get things of this nature, we inform the government first, then put it on the air. It helps our relationship with them if they don't find out with the rest of the public. Usually you guys like a little warning." They arrived at an unmarked door and Griffin opened it. There were two men in security uniforms diligently looking through security tapes. They paused when the three entered.
"These women are here about the note this morning," Griffin said.
The security men nodded and one said, "We've narrowed it down to about six possible people. All were in the area at the targeted time."
Amanda and Francine took seats as the other security man prepared the tapes. He said as he set them up, "We have four cameras that the person may have appeared on. I'll bring up all of them."
"The secretary found the note on her desk at about 6:20 and swears it wasn't there for more than seven or eight minutes before she noticed it, so we targeted that time period. Unfortunately none of the cameras show exactly who put anything on the desk," Griffin said.
"Ready," the first guard said.
Amanda and Francine leaned forward to peer at the screens. They watched as first a man, then a woman and a man, then two men, then a woman entered the building during the seven-minute period. Amanda shook her head at Francine, indicating that she couldn't make out any of them clearly. Francine looked to the guards and they changed the angle. This time when the man and woman entered, Amanda cried, "Stop, the tape!"
Quickly, one guard paused the replay. Amanda leaned farther forward and squinted at the screen. "That's him," she said to Francine, "Ricard."
"Are you sure?" Francine questioned.
"Yes."
Francine turned to the men in the room, saying, "Thank you for your help. The government doesn't forget those who help them." With that, they left the room.
***
Back at I.F.F, agents were buzzing all over the place. There was only one spot were the activity did not touch. Conference Room A was dark and smoky. Two men sat there in silence, each keeping their own thoughts. The tension was thicker than the smoke, and one man jumped when the other spoke.
"Status, Melrose," Dr. Smythe said, not looking up from his contemplation of his fingernails.
"I have Desmond and King on the case. If anyone has a chance of finding Scarecrow, it's those two," Billy Melrose replied, refusing to be intimidated.
"That's all well and good, but what are you plans if they can't?"
"They have been on the case for less than three hours. I'm not anticipating failure this early."
"With this department," Smythe said coldly, "I always anticipate failure. Begin making plans to find out where the auction is. Get an agent inside, and if necessary, eliminate the Scarecrow." With that chilling statement, Dr. Smythe rose silently and left the room, leaving Billy with the smoke and the impression that something evil had been there.
Realizing the unfortunate truth in the man's statement, Billy began to make plans.
***
Amanda and Francine returned to the office and immediately began checking the background of a Mr. Pat Ricard. It seemed like hours before they got any information and Amanda nearly drove Francine to distraction with her pacing.
"Amanda!" Francine finally shouted. "Sit down! You aren't helping!"
"I just feel so helpless," Amanda said. "There has to be something we can do instead of waiting around to hear some news."
"Why don't you find some information on that terrorist group, while we wait for the information on Ricard."
Amanda nodded, thinking about who would have the most information. "I'll call T.P. and see if he has heard anything."
Francine was impressed and slightly annoyed that she hadn't thought of that. "Good idea," she said.
Amanda sat down at her desk and picked up the phone. She typed in the number and waited tensely. "T.P.? It's Amanda." She paused. "I guess you've heard. Yes, we are doing everything possible. Yes we actually have a few good leads. Look, do you have any information on the group that grabbed him?" Amanda was silent for a moment before saying, "All right, let me copy this down." She began to make notes and was so quiet for the next several moments that Francine almost forgot she was there. She was brought back from her work when Amanda said quietly, her face turning pink, "Thank you. That means so much. Of course. Yes. We'll let you know. I don't know, I hope so. Goodbye, T.P." She hung up the phone and waved the pad of paper, saying, "T.P. gave me every sordid detail on the group. They apparently are out to make money. They have no true political leanings, they'll work for anyone for the right price. They've only recently gotten into the spy business. Lee was their first major government target. We have no names or even the number of people in the group, but T.P. estimates at anywhere between fifteen and fifty people."
"Well," Francine said digesting the information, "some of isn't exact, but it's more than we had before."
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Amanda leaped up to answer it. She returned with a folder. "Here is the stuff." She put it down on the desk and began to flip through it. Francine got up and read over her shoulder.
"Hmm," Amanda said, reading the stuff. "I think we have a prime candidate for the terrorist group."
"What makes you say that?" Francine asked, not having read as much.
"He has two low paying jobs, no family, a large debt, yet he owns a fancy foreign car and a home in the Hamptons."
"Then we need to be cautious around him. Where is his other job?"
"He is a bartender at a small pub," Amanda read. "I guess that is our next stop?"
"Not just yet," a voice said from the doorway. The two women looked up as Billy entered the room. "I need you here to get more information. I'll send out some guys to see what kind of place it is."
Amanda and Francine nodded reluctantly.
***
The time passed as time is wont to do. But for Amanda the time seemed to drag. All she could think about was Lee and whether he was okay, or if he was hurt, or in pain. Intellectually, she knew they had to have information before they could act, but her heart told her that every moment they delayed, was a moment that Lee could be in trouble.
Realizing her family might be worried, she called home.
"No, mother," she said. "Work is going very slowly, and we have a deadline.
"So, you aren't coming home tonight?" Dotty asked.
"Yes, I'll be pulling another all-nighter," Amanda replied.
"Amanda," her mother sounded disapproving, "you haven't worked this hard since college."
"No, actually, this is worse than college," Amanda said, thinking to herself, 'in college, you didn't have to worry if someone was going to die because of you.'
"Amanda," Dotty continued, "if I didn't trust you as much as I do, I would think you were having some sort of fling. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I would just hope that you would tell me if you were seeing anyone."
"Mother..." Amanda didn't want to say the real reason for her staying late was a man and she didn't want to lie to her mother. Fortunately, before she could say anything, Billy walked into the Q Bureau. "Mother, I have to go. Tell the boys I love them. Bye."
Amanda hung up and looked questioningly at her boss. He wouldn't look her in the eye, instead talking to Francine.
"You aren't going to like this, Francine," he began.
She gave him an ironic smile and said, "I suppose this bar isn't the type I usually frequent?"
"Not quite."
"Down to requisitions then, to get a suitable outfit?" Another day another job. Francine didn't particularly like using sex to get information, but if that was what the job called for...
"Yes, then—" Billy began.
"Excuse me," Amanda cut him off. "Just what are we talking about here?"
"Francine will go in, make contact with the suspect, and get him to lead her to where Lee is being held," Billy explained. He had forgotten once again how new Mrs. King was to the spy game.
Amanda nodded accepting this. "All right," she said, "and where will I be?"
Knowing she wasn't going to like this, Billy replied, "With the backup."
Amanda gave him a hard stare, saying, "Not good enough."
Francine knew her boss was in trouble. She had seen people try to argue with Amanda King before. The woman wouldn't give up if she believed she was right. "Amanda," Francine cajoled, "I am the more experienced agent..."
"And I am Lee's partner," Amanda's tone was unwavering. "Sir," she turned to Billy, "Shouldn't you have the better agents in the backup? I know I am expendable."
Billy opened his mouth to deny that last statement, but Amanda continued without letting him get a word in.
"Sir, I insist. Have Francine as my backup. If I can't get the information we need, I'll step aside and let her work." Amanda's eyes begged Melrose for understanding. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what she had to do.
Reluctantly, he nodded, "All right. This goes against my better judgement, but Amanda you get first shot at Ricard." Even as he said it, he regretted it. This suburban mother of two had no idea what she was getting herself into. No idea. "Be ready by six. Francine we want you in place a good half-hour before Amanda. When you are ready, come down to the bull pen and we'll go over any last minute details." With that, Billy left the room, leaving the two women alone.
***
Heading down to the lower levels of the building, Francine and Amanda were having their own problems with the Agency's resident weapons expert, Leatherneck.
"Come on, Leatherneck," Francine entreated. "We are supposed to be here to get outfitted for an assignment."
"Nope," Leatherneck crossed his arms stubbornly. "Erikson said he'd be back in ten minutes. He don't go messin' with my things; I don't go messin' with his."
"Leatherneck," Amanda tried to reason with him, "Mr. Melrose said we had to get our clothes here. He wants us back as soon as possible."
"Makes no difference," the man wouldn't budge.
"Fine," Francine conceded to the inevitable. "Then perhaps you could give us the equipment we are going to need?"
"Now, how can I do that when I don't know what you are wearing?" he said logically.
Francine threw her arms up at such obtuseness and sat down to wait for Erikson. Deciding that the entire ten minutes need not be a waste, she stared balefully at Leatherneck until the other man they were waiting for arrived.
Finally, he did and let them into the storage room where the costumes were kept.
"So what is it today, ladies," Erikson asked, as the turned on the lights. "An embassy party? Cocktails at the White House? Or just the normal black invasion gear?"
"None of the above," Francine answered. She knew Amanda might be embarrassed to talk about what they were really going to do. "We have to make contact with a suspect at a rather low rent bar. Billy figures the more we look like prostitutes, the easier it will be."
Erikson gave them an understanding nod. "Okay," he said getting down to business. "I need your sizes."
Twenty minutes later, Amanda and Francine decked out in too tight clothes and far too much makeup went back to Leatherneck for their weaponry.
"Yeesh," he said, looking at their outfits. "Try not to be spotted by any police." He began digging through his boxes of things. "I've got wires for the both of you, as well as small guns..."
"No," Amanda interrupted.
Both of them looked at her surprised.
"I can't have a gun or a wire," she said slowly. "I mean...what if..." she really didn't want to go on, mentioning that if she had to go farther than talking to get the information a bug or a wire would certainly be found. "Besides, this outfit doesn't leave much room to hide a gun," she indicated the clothes that fit like second skin and revealed more than most bathing suits. A gun would be extremely obvious.
Francine looked at Amanda, thinking that never would this reserved mother of two use her body to get evidence, but she saw the steel in the brunette's eyes and knew that Amanda was capable of doing what it took. Time and time again, Mrs. King was surprising her today. "Okay, how about you use the cover of a secretary. That would allow you to have a tape recorder in your purse?" Francine agreed slowly. "We'll just have to count on me being able to back you up."
Amanda nodded, saying, "All right. That could work. My story has to be slightly more convincing than a secretary out to get drunk."
"How about you tell him your husband just left you?" Francine said maliciously.
If Amanda caught the mean note to the woman's voice, she ignored it, saying, "Good idea. Lee and I used that one before and it seemed to work really well. People are always willing to talk to a woman dressed like I am and on the rebound as well." She turned to Leatherneck. "Do you have two wedding rings and a long necklace? I think that would add to the cover."
Leatherneck nodded and began to dig through his boxes.
That had been thirty minutes ago and Francine was now packing a small arsenal. Amanda's only weapons were the stiletto heels she wore and the necklace that was a part of her wardrobe. Leatherneck had also made sure to include a couple of knockout pills.
"Mix them in anything. They dissolve. One'll knock a normal person out in about twenty minutes. Two'll cut it down to ten. And any more, a person'll be comatose within five minutes. Mixed with alcohol, they have the added bonus of making a person very talkative for about five minutes. Use it well."
Amanda nodded taking the pills, and she and Francine headed back up to the bullpen for their final debriefing.
***
Billy sat behind his desk with the door open, furiously working his way through reports of supposed Scarecrow sightings. He was so engrossed in his work, he didn't notice the silence from the outer office at first. When he realized how quiet his area had become, he looked absently at his watch. Forty some minutes had passed. Francine and Amanda should be coming soon. Bringing himself back to the present, he got up to investigate the unusual silence, ready to yell at everyone for not working when he saw what they were looking at. He felt the muscles in his jaw release and his eyes widened. He could not believe what he was seeing. Hormones, he thought inanely. It has to be hormones. He was thinking things no happily married man had any right to be thinking and acting like a love struck teenager to boot.
***
Amanda and Francine stood at the door to the room aware of the scene their arrival caused. Walking through the halls had been nothing compared to this. They had gotten occasional looks from unknown agents who were wondering about the prostitutes roaming the halls—but here, with the people they worked with every day, it was different. Amanda could feel a flush coming up as she was once again made aware just how revealing her outfit was. Francine, on the other hand, loved being the center of attention. She sauntered over to their boss' office, dragging Amanda with.
***
For his part, Billy was almost as embarrassed as Amanda was. Intellectually, he knew that both Amanda and Francine were beautiful women, but with Amanda it was easy to forget. When she came in to work in jeans and a plaid shirt, or a conservative suit, one could easily see her as a mother of two from the suburbs. But in this get up.... Tight? Short? Low-cut? Revealing? Yes to all but more. Sexy, his traitorous mind whispered. That woman has one fine body, the purely male part of his brain continued. Francine carried the outfit she wore with her usual class, making it seem slightly risqué instead of merely cheap. Amanda on the other hand looked like a whore. A beautiful whore, but a whore nonetheless. But even through that, her innocence and good heart shone through, making her look like a diamond in a very cheap setting. With a major effort, Billy dragged his mind back to the present. He led the women into the room and closed the door, but not without glaring at everyone, warning them that they had to get back to work. Slowly, the office resumed its normal activity and Billy walked over to his desk. He sat down and tried to concentrate on his work, but Francine noticed the effect their appearance had on him.
"What, Billy? No compliments?" she needled him.
"Francine..." Amanda said, quietly, bringing both of them back to the serious matter at hand.
"Francine," Billy said, "We want you and two of our male agents to leave now. Get in place, blend in, case the joint. Amanda will follow in half an hour. If she is unable to get the needed information, I want you to try. If there is no information to be gotten, I want you two to get the hell out of there, understand?"
Both women nodded seriously.
Billy shooed Francine on her way before turning to the agent in front of him. She had come so far from the first day he had met her, but he wasn't sure she had come far enough to handle this.
"Amanda..." he began.
"Sir," Amanda interrupted, "I know what you are going to say, and yes, I do know what I am getting into, and yes I am ready for it."
Billy just looked at her seriously, trying to find any doubt lurking in her eyes, and finding only steely determination.
"Go eat something," he told her.
She nodded, knowing she may have to drink far more than usual to get what they needed. The food would help with the effects of the alcohol.
"I'll see you later. Good luck."
"Thank you, sir," Amanda said standing up. "Your confidence in me is very gratifying." With that she left determined to do her best and see this thing through.
***
Amanda walked slowly into the bar. Her pace was due more to her extremely high heels than shock at the ambience of the dive she had just entered. Although that was enough to make anyone turn around and find a different place to get drunk. The room reeked of smoke and stale beer, and the air was blue from the smoke curling up from half a dozen cigarettes. Several of the men had glanced up uninterestedly when the door opened. Their looks of apathy changed, however, when Amanda stepped through the door. Their eyes, raw with unrestrained desire and red with to much alcohol, raked her body, nearly causing her to stumble with the intensity of their scrutiny. She forced herself to walk forward, feeling as though she were going through a gauntlet. She focused on the bar in the center of the room, searching for her quarry. The first man behind the bar looked like he could star in a Rambo movie—muscle upon muscle. Definitely didn't match the pictures of Ricard. The second man her eyes lit upon however did. Amanda made her way to an empty stool near him.
"Can I get you something?" he asked absently cleaning a glass. His ran up and down her body speculatively. Not bad, he thought.
"Yes," Amanda said, spontaneously faking a Southern drawl. "I'll have...a martini. How does James Bond order it—shaken not stirred? Or is it stirred not shaken?" She paused a moment before saying, "What the hell—give me one made each way." Amanda hoped he couldn't see her hands shaking as she quickly clasped them. She had never done anything like this before.
Ricard gave her an appraising look before turning to make her order. He finished, turned around, and set the two glasses down in front of her.
Amanda took a glass in each hand and raised them to Ricard with an ironic twist to her smile. "To true love," she toasted sarcastically, taking a careful sip from first one then the other.
"Any difference?" Ricard asked. She grimaced and he continued, "Not good?"
"I forgot that I don't even like martini's," Amanda admitted with embarrassment.
"Then why did you order it?" Ricard was confused.
Amanda looked at the alcohol in front of her saying, "I am determined to get drunk." She sipped one again.
"Something to do with what you said about true love?"
"You don't want to hear about it," she said looking at him, staring intensely at her drinks.
His eyes said "rebound" and he continued, "No, really, it'll help if you talk about it."
Amanda sighed, held up her necklace, and carefully selected one of the rings hanging on it. "This one," she said, holding it up for Ricard to see, "my first husband. Mr. Altruism. We were young and in love. Got married on a whim, right out of school. He decided his career came first so he went to work and I stayed home. He had his job helping with some sort of distribution of food. So one day he comes home and says, 'Sweetpea, we're moving to some primitive-third-world-African-country. Pack your bags.' I told him he had to chose—me or the job." She paused, dramatically. "He chose the job."
"I'm sorry," Ricard said, his gaze on her legs, her short skirt having ridden up nearly to her waist.
Amanda noticed this but continued anyway. She picked up the second ring, saying, "This was from my second-soon-to-be-ex-husband."
"What did he do?" Ricard breathed, not paying very much attention, his eyes travelling up her body. Most of his interest was focused on the rise and fall of Amanda's very exposed chest.
"Well he was the type of guy with charisma. Lots of charisma. He had a girlfriend in every major city in the world and about thirty in D.C. alone. I don't even know how he did it. We met, and I thought he changed for me. You know. When we first met, he would have twenty messages on his answering machine from twenty different women. Lately though, none. So I thought he changed. We got married and this morning, he disappeared off the face of the earth. No note, no apology. He didn't even bother to pack his things." Amanda paused wondering if she was getting too close to the truth but decided to continue. "He's probably in some whore's arms right now, laughing at his stupid wife." She didn't have to fake the tears that appeared when she thought about what was probably happening to Lee right now. She brushed them away and gave Ricard a trembling smile. "I bet you've heard it all before, huh?"
"No," Ricard said, trying his best to net this dame. "I can't understand how your husband—husbands could do anything like that to you."
"Well they did." Amanda picked up one of the glasses and sipped it. "Join me in a toast?"
"Sorry," Ricard did sound truly sorry. "I can't drink when I am on duty."
"Well," Amanda said slowly, not wanting to push. Not wanting to destroy the tenuous relationship she had already forged. "What time do you get off?" she finally asked, as though she had only been searching for the courage to ask.
Ricard looked at his watch. "In about an hour," he replied, realizing that this woman was looking for company, and he was it. "Can you wait?" He desperately hoped that she would wait, and not go looking for company elsewhere. It had been a long time since he had met a woman this good looking at a dive like this, and he had high hopes for the rest of the evening. "You never told me your name." He held out his hand saying, "Pat Ricard."
Amanda took it and said, "Mandy West-Keene-Steadmann." She paused, "Just Mandy West."
"Nice to meet you," Ricard said. He noticed her glasses were empty, and figured the more drunk she was, the better the rest of the night would be. "Can I get you another?" he asked.
"Yeah," Amanda nodded. "Just keep the alcohol coming. The more lethal the better."
Ricard smiled. If she kept drinking like that, she wouldn't know which way was up in an hour.
***
"You know," Amanda said thickly, setting the glass on the bar with force, "I think I could learn to like martinis." She stopped, thinking. "I think you had better excuse me for a moment," she said to Ricard. "I'm just going to stop by the ladies room." She got up from the stool unsteadily.
"Whoa, Mandy," Ricard said reaching out a hand to steady her. "Are you going to make it?" he asked. Maybe she had had too much.
"I'm fine," she said, shaking his hand off. She smiled at him, swallowed convulsively, and headed toward the back.
Ricard's attention was so focused on Amanda that he didn't notice the blonde woman get up and head in the same direction.
Amanda pushed open the door to the ladies room and after checking to see that no one was in it, straightened up. She walked over to the mirror, which was coated in grime, and peered at her reflection. The rest of the bathroom hadn't seen much cleaning recently, either. Amanda was trying to pull herself together for what she knew was next, when she heard the door creak open behind her. She whirled around expecting an attack, but only saw Francine. Breathing a sigh of relief, she relaxed as the other woman walked over to her. She turned back to the mirror, reapplying her makeup.
"Are you all right?" Francine asked, peering in Amanda's eyes expecting to find them liquid filled from all the alcohol she had consumed.
"I'm fine," Amanda said with no trace of her earlier slur.
"You're not drunk?" Francine was surprised. She had seen Amanda consume at least five drinks with her own eyes.
"No," Amanda said, brushing Francine off. "I was just acting."
Francine blinked. "Then what happened to all those drinks?" she blurted out.
Amanda looked at her and quirked up the corner of her mouth in a smile, saying, "Don't be surprised if you see a puddle on the floor by my stool." With that, she gave her dress one final shift, dropped her shoulders, and walked out the door.
Francine stared after her with a look akin to respect.
***
Amanda and Ricard pushed out of the now crowded bar. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy, stinky rat hole. She would never get the stink out of these clothes. Then she remembered that they weren't her clothes. Amanda stumbled slightly as they passed over the threshold, and Ricard reached out a hand to steady her. She gave him a drunken smile and said as he tried to lead her to the right, "No. My car is over there." She pulled him to the left.
"Do you think you should be driving?" Ricard asked.
"Guess not," Amanda said with the bluntness of one who has very little control over what they are saying. "Should call a cab." She looked up and down the deserted street. There weren't any cars coming as far as she could see. She swallowed and shook her head. She hoped she wasn't overdoing it, but the way Ricard was looking at her told her that he was at least interested.
"No, Mandy," Ricard said pulling he right again, "What kind of friend would I be if I let you go home like that? You can crash at my place."
"Really?" Amanda went from belligerent drunk to weepy drunk in an instant. "You are such a good friend," she put her arm through his.
"Come on," he said leading the way, "it's only a few blocks. We'll walk and let the night air clear out heads." Before moving off, however, he turned her face up towards him and gave her a long kiss. Amanda broke it off by stumbling on her heel. She giggled—something that was very hard for her to accomplish. She was not a giggler; she was a laugher. Ricard laughed, thinking that he was going to have this pretty woman in his bed in less than half an hour. It was turning out to be a good night.
They walked down the street for some time silent. Ricard, however, began to slow as they approached a dark warehouse.
"You live in a warehouse?" Amanda asked, pulling back.
"Oh," Ricard said, seeing her fright, "No the group I belong to bought the building and turned it into a sort of headquarters and apartment for the members."
"Sorry," Amanda apologized for her fear. "I just remembered all the horror movies I've ever seen started out like this."
"That's okay," Ricard said. "Although, we aren't supposed to have visitors so we'll have to sneak past the guards."
"Guards?" Amanda pretended to be surprised. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Let's just continue what we started." She giggled at him again. It was actually getting easier to giggle with practice. Who knew? Amanda forced herself not to think about what she might have to do.
They quietly slipped in the front door and past the sleeping guard. As the tiptoed past one of Amanda's heels clicked loudly on the floor. They froze but the guard didn't wake up. Breathing a sigh of relief they continued. They entered another hallway where another guard was camped out in front of a hallway that branched off the main one. Ricard walked over to him and began to talk loudly, motioning Amanda to quickly sneak behind them.
That must be where Lee is being held, Amanda thought. If he is even here. Oh, I hope this is the right thing to do. Her mind was whirling with all the possibilities. She could try to take both men out right now and rescue Lee. But what if she didn't have enough evidence? What if Lee wasn't even there?
For now, she decided the best thing to do was continue what she had started. And if that meant doing things she normally would have never done, so be it. She flattened herself to the wall and made her way behind the two men. The guard didn't even see her, and soon, Ricard joined her down the hall.
Remembering she was supposed to be drunk, she stumbled against Ricard as they made their way up a dimly lit staircase to an even more dimly lit hallway. Ricard opened one of the doors and shooed Amanda in. Laughing, she collapsed onto the sofa.
"That was fun," she said. "I felt like a cat burglar
"Yeah," Ricard said, sitting down very close to her, "Nothing like a little fear of being caught to get the adrenaline flowing." He began to kiss Amanda's neck. She stiffened but forced herself to relax. She had come this far, what were a few steps more.
It is for Lee, she kept repeating to herself.
Her courage began to fail as Ricard began to help her out of her clothing. "Are you thirsty?" she asked suddenly, startling the man.
"What?" he asked, looking at her.
"You made me drinks all night, let me make you something," she said, getting up.
Ricard was confused but agreed. "All right," he said, "but you have to promise to come right back." He was ready right now but could wait long enough to toss back a drink. Especially if it made Mandy more willing.
"I promise," Amanda batted her eyelashes at him. "You'll be surprised. I make some of the best drinks around."
"The liquor is in the refrigerator, glasses are in the first cabinet," Ricard said, as he began to take off his own clothes. Might as well get a head start, he thought.
As Amanda made the drinks, she slipped one of the pills into one of the glasses. She hoped twenty minutes wouldn't be too long; she really didn't want to have sex with Ricard. He disgusted her. She also remembered to turn on the recorder in case she was able to get some information out of him. She picked up the drinks, making sure to remember which one was the drugged one. It would be just her luck that she drank the one with the drug in it.
Ricard in the meantime had moved from the sofa to the bedroom. Knowing where this was going, Amanda slowly walked in. She smiled her sure-I'll-stay-in-the-car smile at him and handed him his drink.
He held up his glass for a toast and said, "To the future." All he could think about was the immediate future and this beautiful woman sitting on his bed.
"To the future," Amanda agreed, thinking he was going to have a very nice future in jail.
He sipped it and said, "This is very good. What did you use?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Amanda shook her finger at him, taking a seat next to him on the bed, "family secret."
"Well," Ricard said as he tossed down the rest of the drink, "I hope you didn't want to talk about alcohol for the rest of the night because I had something far more interesting planned." He began to kiss her again, and she made herself kiss him back.
As he began to help her out of her clothes again, she began to question him gently. "So what group do you belong to exactly?" she asked, running her hands up his arms. She never realized how hard it was to fake passion.
"Oh, we do import/exports. Selling things, information, and people to the highest bidder." Ricard didn't even seem to notice that he was talking. He was very intent on exploring just how many buttons were on the front of Amanda's shirt.
The pills must be working
, Amanda thought. I hope that tape recorder only picks up the words. "What are you selling now?" she whispered, kissing his neck."Some sort of government worker." Ricard was still more interested in the parts of Amanda's body he was slowly revealing. "They don't really tell me much. He's got information and is pretty hot merch. They say he'll go for two million or more." Ricard gently pushed her back onto the bed, "I was the one who had to pick him up. Stetson, didn't seem all that special to me, but what the bosses want, the bosses get."
Trying to keep her mind off what she was doing, Amanda continued to question him. "How many people belong to your group? How does one join?"
"There are only twenty-seven of us. Only pre-selected people can join."
"Does everyone in the group live here?" Amanda pressed.
There was no answer, so she figured that the talkative portion of the drug had worn off. That meant she had fifteen minutes to distract him before he conked out. With a sigh, she went to work.
***
Exactly fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds later, Ricard collapsed in a heap on top of her. Holding her breath, checking to see if he was really out, she began to slip out from under him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she quickly put her clothes back on and was about to leave but thought better of it. Going back to Ricard, she tied his arms and legs up and threw the blanket over him to muffle any sounds he might make. Satisfied, she walked to the door, peering out to see if the coast was clear. The hallway was as deserted as it had been earlier. Stepping out, she hurried down the stairs. The guard's back was to her again, and thanking her lucky stars, she whacked him over the head with her stiletto. He went down with a thump. Amanda glanced around to see if anyone had heard, then made her way down the hallway the man had been guarding. She tried each of the doors until she found the one that was locked. Praying that Lee was behind it and not some criminal or member of the group, she pulled out her lock-pick kit and delicately opened the door.
There in the darkened room, was her partner. He was tied up to a chair, head bowed. Even with the lack of light and the distance between them, Amanda could see the bruises on his face and arms. He didn't even look up when the door opened.
"Lee?" she whispered as she walked over to him.
He lifted his head and blinked at her, trying to focus. All he saw was the tight clothes and makeup. "Hey, toots," he slurred. "What's you sign?"
"Oh, my gosh, Lee what did they do to you?" Amanda asked as she began to untie the ropes that held him.
His eyes focused briefly and he said, "Amanda? What are you doing here?" He noticed her clothes. "What are you wearing?!"
"Shh," Amanda shushed him. He was obviously drugged. It would be up to her to get them out of here. She pulled him to his feet as she cut the last of the ropes. "Come on," she whispered, "we're getting out of here."
"I don't think so," a voice said from the doorway.
Amanda wheeled around and came face to face with a gun. It was in the hands of a thoroughly evil looking man. He had cruel black eyes and looked like he had forgotten to shave that week. He leaned casually against the doorjamb, idly twirling his gun. Amanda swallowed, standing up straight.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I think the question is, my dear, who are you?" the man asked her. "And since I'm the one holding the gun, I believe you had better answer."
Amanda nodded. "I'm Mandy West."
"I think not," the man said, not buying her story. "We monitor all member's rooms and you did a far better job of questioning Ricard than any two bit whore could do."
"I'm just a secretary," Amanda was sticking to her cover.
"Don't toy with me!" the man shouted. He visibly pulled himself together. "I'll tell you what I think you are," he began reasonably. "I believe you are an agent as well. In fact, I'm betting you are the Scarecrow's partner. We knew he had one, but we weren't sure who it was. He wouldn't crack." The man spat in Lee's direction. "But I promised my customers the Scarecrow and his partner. It was very nice of you to come here and save me the trouble of finding you." Amanda stayed silent, and he continued. "Personally, I didn't expect the Scarecrow to have a female partner; all of our psychological research indicates that he would have a male partner." At Amanda's look of surprise he said, "You thought that we just picked him out, that we just stumbled on a federal agent?" He shook his head, "How little you know. We've been in this business long enough to know how to prepare. Agents that just turn up dead somewhere are usually just being returned after their buyers get what they need. Generally, we like to remain a silent partner, but this time we felt we deserved some credit. Normally, our merchandise is only minor agents and petty snitches. This time, we netted the Scarecrow...and his partner?" He looked at Amanda for confirmation of his question, but she just stared at him, Lee leaning on her for support. "Well yes, even if you aren't, the Russians will pay a great amount of money, just in case you are. Especially if we auction the two of you off as a team. The Scarecrow has been a thorn in their side for far too long for them to pass up this opportunity." He ran his eyes up and down Amanda's body, saying, "Until auction day, however, we can have a little fun." He began to walk towards her, smiling slightly when she didn't flinch or back up. As he neared, he negligently brushed Lee off Amanda's shoulder, where he had been propped since she had released him. He fell to the floor, too drugged and weak to fight back. The man grabbed Amanda's arm, pulling her roughly toward him. He looked cruelly in her eyes, his intent obvious. He locked his lips over hers, pulling her body against his.
Amanda's mind whirled. What would Lee do? She thought. What would Francine do? Remembering when she had been mugged, what Francine told her she had done, Amanda quickly brought her knee up. As the man doubled over, she thumbed his eye sockets and brought her heel down on his instep. He cried out in pain, but Amanda wasn't through with him—using the same shoe she had hit the guard with, she swung as hard as she could. The stiletto connected squarely with the man's temple, and he went down.
"Freeze!" a voice shouted from the doorway, and Amanda looked up to see whom she would have to deal with next.
Her shoulders sagged with relief as she recognized Francine, gun drawn. "He's all yours," she said, indicating the man she had just disabled. She then bent down to help Lee back up. She didn't know how Francine knew she needed help, but she was glad she were there. "Come on," she said, practically carrying Lee out of the room. His eyes had glazed over again and his limbs went limp as the drug they had given him exerted their control again. She could see a new bruise forming on his jaw from where he had hit the floor. Amanda carried him down the hall to the main foyer where agents were swarming, seeming to have forgotten the object of the search in their haste to round up all the members of the group.
Several of the group members were already face down on the floor, handcuffed and guarded. "There are supposed to be twenty-seven!" Amanda called to Billy who was organizing the entire thing. He nodded absently and repeated that to one of the other agents. When he realized who had spoken, he looked quickly at her then did a double take when he saw Lee.
He hurried over to them, saying, "An ambulance is on its way." He took Lee's other arm, helping Amanda support him.
"Thank you sir," Amanda said, meaning for more than just the support of her partner.
"I should be thanking you, Amanda," Billy said. "You got the information that we needed like a pro. It will be invaluable."
Amanda struggled to dig in her purse without losing her grip on Lee who was still out of it. She finally got out the tape recorder and handed it to her boss. "I got some more evidence on tape, sir."
"Thank you." Billy knew what this case had cost her, but also knew that it would make her a better agent in the long run. He opened his mouth to say as much when the ambulance pulled to a screeching halt in front of the warehouse. Billy and Amanda helped Lee over to the stretcher, and he was wheeled into the vehicle. The attendants slammed the backdoor shut without even letting Amanda get in. They also pulled off before she could open her mouth to complain. Billy saw her crestfallen face and knew how worried she was about Lee so he suggested, "Why don't you get your car and go to the hospital after them?" He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "Um...Amanda. Do you need any medical attention? I mean..."
"I'm fine sir," she replied, trying to sound convincing. She knew he wanted to ask if she need a contraceptive pill, if she had been raped, or if she had been otherwise abused. "I'll just go get my car." She hurried off down the street, back towards the bar where her car was parked.
***
As Amanda hurried back to her car, she talked herself out of her slightly gloomy mood. It had hurt to see Lee like that, but she had gotten to him in time to keep him from a worse fate. She had done it. Sure, she had done some things she normally wouldn't do, but she had done it for Lee. She could honestly say this was her first solo assignment. Sure Francine had done some work, but she hadn't really been necessary, even at the end. She had come a long way from that insecure, sheltered mother from the suburbs she had been two years ago. All she had to do was get her car, go to the hospital to see if Lee was truly all right, and head back to the office to change. Piece of cake.
Amanda's musings were rudely interrupted when a black sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk where she was walking.
"Hey, baby," a male voice slurred from the dark car, "I got money."
Amanda just ignored him, kept walking, speeding up a bit, but the car continued to pace her. She was just about to tell the driver what he could do with his money when she saw the flashing lights of a police car. Thank God, she thought, I'm safe. She wasn't in the best neighborhood to be alone and unarmed.
The driver of the car saw the cop car also and quickly made his getaway. The patrol car pulled up next to Amanda, and one of the cops got out.
Amanda smiled at him, ready to thank him for his timely intervention, when he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and quickly snapped them on her wrists.
"Hey!" Amanda said indignantly. "What are you doing?"
"Prostitution is illegal, ma'am. You'll have to come down to the station for booking," the officer said, trying to lead her over to the car.
"I'm not a prostitute!" she exclaimed, wondering if it would be in good taste to pick the locks of the handcuffs. The cop had stupidly cuffed her with her hands in front. Her thoughts were interrupted and she was brought back to the present by the cop pulling on her arm. Trying to think what she could have done to make them think she was soliciting sex, she remembered her outfit and her eyes widened. "Oh, gosh," she said, "You mean the outfit? No. No, you've got it all wrong. I'm a federal agent. This is a cover."
"Yeah, right," the cop said, obviously not buying it. "Tell another one." He leaned over and sniffed her breath. "You've been drinking too much, lady."
"No," Amanda insisted, "I am a federal agent. Really!"
"Let me see your I.D. then," the cop said, pulling her to the car.
"How stupid do you think I am?" Amanda said, indignantly. "Wear a badge undercover? Only rookies make that mistake."
The cop ignored her, and Amanda realized that she was going to go to jail. Sure she could undo the handcuffs and escape but what good would that do? She would just have to let the agency sort everything out. She stopped resisting and walked with the officer over to the car. The cop opened the door, and she got into the backseat with a sigh. The cop also got in and turned to his partner grinning. "Got a new one for you, Jack," he said with a smile. "Claims to be a federal agent." He indicated to Amanda sitting primly in the back seat trying her best to look like royalty. The webbing that separated them marred the effect. How would Emily act? she thought. Emily wouldn't get into a situation like this.
"That is new," Jack, his partner, replied. "So far today, we've picked up a model, the President's personal manicurist, and now a spy. They are getting more creative."
Amanda just sat stonily silent in the back, refusing to rise to the bait.
***
At the police station, Amanda sat quietly through the process of booking. As they looked through her records, the officer turned to her with a frown. "Sorry, ma'am," he apologized, "It says nothing here about being a federal employee. It says you work for a film company."
Amanda knew she couldn't say too much, as most of the people in the world were unaware of what I.F.F. really was, even the police didn't really know. She just shook her head resignedly and presented her fingers for printing. "Do I get my one phone call?" she asked when the humiliating process was complete, and they had verified that she had no prior arrests, aside from a negated counterfeiting charge from Munich and a recent manslaughter charge. That one caused the officer's eyes to widen, until he saw that she had been acquitted of that one too.
"Counterfeiting?" the officer asked. "Manslaughter?"
"I was cleared of that charges. They found the real counterfeiters and murderer," Amanda protested, looking pointedly at the phone. "The sooner you let me call my people, the sooner we'll be through with this," she told him logically. When the officer nodded, Amanda grabbed the phone he offered and quickly dialed the agency.
"Hello, Mrs. Marston? The code word is Sassafras." As she awaited clearance, she inanely wondered if the woman ever went to bed. "Yes, it's Amanda. Yes, I know Mr. Melrose isn't in. I just left him." She paused not knowing how to phrase this. "Could you have someone from the agency pick me up? The police saw my... disguise and picked me up for prostitution." Her face turned red even as she said it. "Thank you," she said gratefully and hung up the phone. She handed the receiver back to the officer and said, "They're sending someone."
"That's all well and good, ma'am," the officer said. "But until we have official proof that you are who you say you are, you'll have to wait in one of the cells." He gestured to one of the other lieutenants. Amanda got up as the man came over, and he led her through a door to the cellblock.
***
Amanda sat disconsolately in the cell, surrounded by other women picked up by the police that night—actual prostitutes. How could this have happened to her? Amanda felt very self-conscious around them; this was their life. So she just sat on the bunk and thought. The rest of the women, after comparing arrest records, and other...more personal... records, were quiet. What scared Amanda the most was the fact that farther down the hall were the more violent offenders and bigger criminals. A conversation from outside the block shook her out of her reverie.
"Yes, I'm here for her," Amanda heard a very familiar voice say from the hallway outside the cellblock. Amanda couldn't hear the officer's reply but she heard the first voice continue, "No. She wasn't lying. She is an agent." There was a pause. "Thanks."
With that, the door to the cellblock opened, and Lee Stetson walked, albeit slowly, in. Amanda smiled slightly to see that he bore no evidence of his ordeal except for the swollen lip, black eye, and slow stride—actually normal things for this man. His eyes were perfectly lucid and snapping with anger. She got up from the bunk, ignoring the other women in the cell who's conversation comparing sexual exploits died off as Lee entered. They began to murmur among themselves—aside from the bruises, this man was really good looking.
"Hi," she said quietly as Lee walked up to her.
"Hi," he said just as quietly, quickly checking that she was all right. Upon ascertaining her health, his eyes hardened and he said fiercely, "What were you doing?! Alone and unarmed?! Amanda!" His voice had started out quiet but grew louder with each word until he was practically shouting.
"If you don't lower your voice," Amanda said rationally, "every one in the block is going to know what you are thinking." She indicated the curious eyes peering at them from behind the bars... each word until he was practically shouting.
"If you don't lower your voice," Amanda said rationally, "every one in the block is going to know what you are thinking." She indicated the curious eyes peering at them from behind the bars.
"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry, "I was just wondering how such a smart person could do such a dumb thing! What were you thinking?," he hissed.
Amanda pushed her face against the cold metal bars, getting as close to Lee as the cell would allow. "I'll tell you what I was thinking," she whispered fiercely, "I was thinking my partner was going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. I was thinking my best friend was going to be tortured and killed for every scrap of information in his body." She finished her tirade and just glared at him.
The tense tableau was broken by the arrival of a police officer with the keys. He unlocked the cell Amanda was in and let her out. "Sorry about the mistake, ma'am," he apologized.
Amanda just nodded, too worked up to reply. She and Lee were not through with this conversation.
Lee led her out of the station and to his car without saying anything. Amanda was only too happy to keep up the silence.
"We picked up your car and took it back to the office," Lee startled her by saying, as he held open the door. "I'll just drop you off at home."
"Like this?!" Amanda gestured to her revealing outfit and heavy makeup.
Lee blinked. "Back to the office then," Lee amended.
The drive back to I.F.F. was very silent. Lee didn't know what to say. Amanda was just to exhausted to say anything; she rested her head against the window, wishing the night were over already.
"Amanda," Lee said suddenly, breaking the silence, "Why did you do it?"
She lifted her head and looked over at him, deciding that partial honesty was the best policy. "You are my best friend and my partner," she said quietly, "How could I let something happen to you if I could prevent it?"
Lee was quiet for a long time thinking about this before he asked uncomfortably, in a strange voice, "Did...did he hurt you?"
Amanda looked at him. His eyes were so angry that she knew if she told him the truth about what happened, he would find Ricard and kill him. "I'm fine," she said, honestly.
"That doesn't answer the question, Amanda."
"No, it doesn't. And I'm not going to." She looked away from his intense scrutiny, saying, "Lee, I did what I had to do." She didn't add the 'for you,' but Lee heard it anyway.
The lengths this woman had gone for him were astonishing. Just when he thought he had his partner figured out, she flipped over and showed a totally different side. There were unexplored depths to her. He had honestly believed that despite his intense and intensifying feelings toward her, their relationship couldn't go anywhere. He had believed that there were limits to how much they each could grow. Now, he realized that the only limits on their relationship were the ones he had placed on it.
"Thank you," he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen.
"You're welcome," she replied, smiling tentatively at him.
He smiled back. They both had some serious thinking to do. Who knew what the future would bring?
The End
***NOTES: First of all I'd like to apologize for my major typo in first story. It was supposed to say Bombers, not Boomers. Thanks to everyone who pointed that out. I type ninety words a minute (not including errors) and sometimes my fingers get ahead of my brain. (did everyone recognize my quote? ;} )
Second, we all need to start a campaign to get the show on tape. I know PAX cut scenes and deletes any slightly off-color words. Since I did not get to see the show when it was on in the eighties, I would like to see those parts (besides I get really crappy reception.) E-mail me with your responses on this subject.
Third and finally, I just want to congratulate everyone who has written a story and encourage any of you who are just reading them to try your hand at writing them.