Rating: R, for language and some adult drama. (Actually, I'd give it a PG-15, but fanfiction.net doesn't have that choice.)
Disclaimer: The usual… UC Undercover and its characters don't belong to me, so please don't sue.
Summary: Because Jake is unable to go undercover, Donovan poses as a porn "producer" and Alex as his "hopeful actress" who just happens to be "underage". They try to secure a deal with two other "producers" to get them in jail. Things go wrong.
Categories: Drama, adventure, a teeny bit of romance
Ok, here we go!!
In order to catch a criminal, you have to become one… Lies and ValentinesBy Scatterheart
November 7
UC Headquarters
7: 36 PM
"This is our criminal, Jonathan Bouvier. French American, twenty-eight years old, from San Francisco, California. He was in prison for seven months for illegal possession of marijuana, but other than that, he was what you'd call a pretty decent man."
Her high heel boots clicking on the metallic floor, Monica Davis walked to the TV controls and pressed a button, filling the screen with a mug shot of Jonathan Bouvier. She turned to the other three agents, smirking and raising her eyebrows. "So. What do you think, people?"
Agent Alex Cross observed the grainy picture through a heavy cloud of fatigue. The criminal had a chiseled face, deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and a generous, curvaceous mouth. On a normal day she would have thought him quite handsome, but with the events just thirty hours ago in Texas, all her mind could do was swing in and out of focus.
She had not slept at all or eaten anything more than a sandwich since the maddening chase across the deserted parking lot in Dallas. The memory of the criminal's glinting knife just centimeters away from her throat before being dislodged by Jake's gunshot had played over and over in her mind like a broken record all through the airplane ride home, sickening her to her stomach and destroying all sense of appetite and sleep. If Jake had arrived a split second too late, she would have been the one on the concrete ground, holding her neck and bleeding to death.
But he had caught up to them, and she had escaped from the criminal unscathed. Jake, on the other hand, had been bleeding from several knife wounds on his legs and body, and his right arm had been broken above the wrist. He had looked like a living Hell.
Glancing across the table, she saw him sitting by himself, nursing his broken arm in his lap. He still looked hellish, unshaven and unshowered, with deep, haunted shadows underneath his eyes. He watched at the TV screen like the rest of them, but she could tell he was lost inside his own private tortures.
Monica was oblivious to him as she resumed her profiling. "Anyway, as you can see Jonathan Bouvier is pretty good looking. Even in his mug shot."
Cody glanced up from behind three laptops at his desk and drawled, "Man, if I was gay-"
"Right." Monica smiled sarcastically. "My point is, he must have gotten a pretty inflated ego about himself after he came out of prison, because apparently he immersed himself in the shady world of pornography. Last month, some police reports came in saying that Bouvier was luring underage girls into secret rendezvous spots around San Francisco and paying them fifty bucks to film them. The police was having a pretty hard time trying to catch him because he was always drifting in and out of the city."
She tapped her nails on the TV screen. "But last week, they caught him. And of course, something else went wrong. The police learned that he and a girl had been planning to meet two other men in an apartment to discuss a video deal. The police don't have proof that these two men, James Woods and Ryan Gonzales, are really involved in teenage porn or not, though, so they can't make the arrest."
Cody asked, "This is where we come in, right?"
"Yep. Thankfully, Woods and Gonzales have never met Bouvier before, so Jake can easily pose as Bouvier and Alex as a hopeful actress wanting to star in their next blockbuster film. The moment they sign the video deal, we got the proof, and the police come in to make the arrest. It's as simple as that. Donovan's on his way getting our plane tickets as we speak."
Alex nodded. "Yeah. When do we go?"
"We go when Jake wakes up," Monica replied. She waved her hands at him. "Hey Jake? Are you still with us here?"
"Uh… Sorry," Jake said, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Did you say something about going all the way to San Francisco?"
"Did I say? I'm not the ones making the choices here. It was all Mr. Sunshine Donovan's idea to take on this case."
Alex couldn't help the burst of sardonic laughter from leaving her mouth. "So is this what you call him? Mr. Sunshine?"
"Yeah, every day when he walks into our office, I feel aglow," Monica deadpanned. She took a manila folder from the top of a computer screen and tossed it to Alex. "The details are all in there. We have to be in San Francisco by seven, tomorrow morning, so that pretty much-"
"Wait a minute!" Alex took the unopened folder and threw it on the desk. "Tomorrow? Donovan's having us go to San Francisco tomorrow? But we barely got back from Dallas!"
"Hey, consider ourselves already packed," Cody chirped.
She swiveled her chair around and glared at him over the mountain of laptops. "No way. We just came from a forty-eight hour marathon in Hell, okay? I think we should give ourselves a little respect and rest for several days before going on another assignment."
He shrugged. "I'd love to, but I can't make decisions for our team."
"And Donovan can? Does he even know what Jake went through? Look at him, his arm's broken and he hasn't gotten a minute's worth of sleep for three days!"
"Alex, I'm okay." Jake got up from the chair and walked over to her. "I feel fine. My arm's in a cast. It's fine."
She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. Jake would be willing to stay up for another three nights and haul himself half to death if the situation called for it. "Damn it, stop kidding yourself," she muttered. "We're not going anywhere tomorrow. We're gonna tell Donovan the moment he gets his ass in here-"
"I'm fine! We're not going to stay here or postpone anything just because of me! Donovan's our leader, and if he has a case, we do it. All of us."
Cody closed his laptop and leaned back in the chair. "Jake, Alex is right. I don't want you to go."
"Me too," Monica added. "You gotta take care of yourself, man."
Jake opened his mouth to speak. "But-"
"Me three," said an English accented baritone from behind them.
Alex turned to see Frank Donovan standing at the door, his hands in his pockets. She bit her lip. With their leader Donovan in the scene, situations usually decayed and tempers usually flared. Everything about the man, from his black, custom tailored clothing to his serious face, screamed strict order and control.
"You're not going with us to San Francisco," he said to Jake, walking to the TV screen where Bouvier's mug shot still flickered.
"I'm not bedridden, Donovan, I can do this."
Donovan wheeled around. "Don't argue with me," he said. He was a good three inches taller than Jake and evidently stronger, but Jake held his ground unwaveringly. For a moment they were locked in a gaze of mutual ambivalence, and Alex gritted her teeth to keep from lashing out at the both of them.
"Christ." Monica snorted in distaste, yanking Jake's jacket sleeve. "I know we're all tired and cranky, but don't act like a bunch of kids. Jake, listen to your boss."
Jake pulled himself away from her and slowly sank into the nearest chair. He muttered something of an apology.
Donovan cast his attention back to the rest of the agents. "I found some rather unfortunate information from the FBI. One of the two men who are meeting Jonathan Bouvier in San Francisco knows him. They went to elementary school together."
"Elementary school? That was a long time ago," Jake said. "They wouldn't recognize each other anymore."
Monica pursed her lips. "Elementary school may seem like ten thousand years ago but it's really not. People still remember faces. Anyway, the point is, you're still not going."
Donovan took a piece of paper from the top of the TV and scanned over the words. "Bouvier is half French, and six foot four. Jake isn't even close to that. It's impossible for him to go and pull it off."
"Unless he got some heels," Cody snickered from his workstation.
Alex sighed. "So are we taking this case? Are we hiring another agent from the Feds to go undercover?"
Donovan shook his head. "No. No, I'm doing it."
"Excuse me?" The office was suddenly awash in an uproar of voices. Alex jumped to her feet, gaping at him. "You can't go undercover! You're our leader, and it's too big of a risk."
"Out of the three men in our team, I resemble Bouvier the most," he returned over the cacophony. "There is no rule saying I can't go undercover myself."
"He does have a point," Cody mused. He pointed to the TV screen's image of Bouvier and looked at Donovan. "Same eyes, same general face shape. He's not quite French or six four, but with the right clothes, he could pass."
Monica crossed her arms in front of her black Rolling Stones tee. "Yeah, I got some heels you can borrow, Frank."
Donovan didn't smile. "I have four plane tickets to San Francisco. Go home, pack a suitcase, and meet at the airport in two hours. Jake, you go home and stay there."
A muscle twitched in Jake's clenched jaw, but he remained in his seat and nodded.
Alex rubbed her face with her hands and watched Frank Donovan pace out of the office. The words he had left them with were direct orders, and from experience, she knew it was futile to disobey. Monica and Cody seemed to realize this, but Jake was apparently still struggling with Donovan's uncompromising authority.
She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can let this one go, you know."
"I know, but I don't want to seem like I'm running from an assignment," he said softly, meeting her eye. The weariness and exhaustion had sunken in his cheeks and drawn spider-thin lines across his forehead. "But Donovan does have a point. I look like shit."
Alex grinned. "You do, actually. Get some rest."
"You'll be okay working with Donovan?"
"I hope so."
"I don't think he's worked undercover before, but he's a smart man and he'll learn fast."
"I really hope so." She gave his shoulder a consoling squeeze, and headed for the door. "I never told you what an amazing job you did in Dallas. You saved my life while maintaining your cover, Jake. Frank Donovan may be a former Fed, but he's no undercover agent."
"You'll never know until tomorrow," he responded, spinning his chair around to see her off.
Cody snorted as he clacked the keys on his keyboard. "Yeah, Mr. Sunshine is a diamond with many facets."
November 8
San Francisco
11:48 AM
The streets of San Francisco rode over the hills and valleys like miles and miles of criss-crossing ribbons. Alex struggled to keep her eyelids from closing, while fighting down the urge to vomit. Three days without sleep was enough to make any man or woman carsick. She looked out of the window of the cream-colored Lexus and focused her mind on the city in the distance, and tried to ignore the wavelike fluctuations in the road.
The costume Monica provided her looked authentic enough. The denim flares, tank top, and platform sandals sheared years off of her age. Red streaks in her blond hair and trashy red lipstick completed the makeover. She looked seventeen, old enough to be sexual, and young enough to send the two men straight to prison.
Frank Donovan, in the driver's seat, was hardly recognizable in his baggy jeans, white muscle shirt, blue bandana, and sunglasses. He had shaved off his beard and mustache, and sported a silver stud underneath his lower lip. Countless more studs lined his ears. They were magnetic earrings that resembled real piercings, brought in almost proudly by Monica Davis. She had undeniably been enjoying decorating Donovan in the morning, clamping the things onto him, holding in a smile whenever he winced in pain. She had even suggested a tongue ring, but he had firmly shaken his head, and that was the end of that.
"Hey, can you hear me, agents?" the tinny voice of Cody buzzed in Alex's right ear. "I got the communications set up."
She adjusted her earphone and mike, which had been cleverly designed by Cody and Monica to resemble a gold hoop earring inlaid with sapphire jewels. "Yeah, I hear you. Donovan, are your sunglasses working?"
"Yes. Where are you, Cody?"
"We're in a green Ford Explorer."
Alex looked through the passenger side window at the inconspicuous family van trailing two cars behind. "Good. I see you. We're all set."
Donovan made a right at the next intersection, entering a new street that was largely residential, crammed on both sides with two story townhouses. "Did you contact the police?"
"Yes sir," Cody said. "You've got a whole hour to make the deal with Woods and Gonzales before they come. We'll be speaking to you through the earphones when you need us. Oh, and the house is the light blue one right there. Park the car on the driveway."
Donovan pulled the Lexus over and screeched it to a stop.
"Monica's looking for a parking spot, so I'll speak to you once the system is set up," Cody's voice buzzed before the connection clicked off.
Alex reached for the door handle, but hesitated, turning to look at her boss instead. The sleepiness in her system was now gone, replaced by the familiar rush of adrenaline and focus that accompanied her to every undercover assignment. And she hoped Donovan felt the same. "Are you ready to be Jonathan Bouvier, Frank?"
"As ready as you are to be Kitty Valentine," he said, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He opened the car door. "Let's be bad."
November 8
San Francisco
11:59 AM
"Shit, did you see that?" Cody called to Monica Davis as she entered through the dark fabric partition separating the front of the van from the control center. She had just parked the van on the other side of the street in the shadows of a massive oak tree.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste, surveying the jumble of wires, computers, and high tech gizmos that heaped to the ceiling. "No, see what?"
Cody grinned, pointing to the image of Donovan paused on one black and white TV screen. "Mr. Sunshine is smiling on Alex's earring cam. The man actually knows how to smile."
"I'll be damned." Monica's large eyes widened. "Do you know what? Our Donovan's actually… not half bad looking wearing those clothes."
"Oh, please." He shook his head at her comment and unpaused Alex's video stream. A high-pitched electronic shrieking and black and white static instantly assaulted the TV screen. His heart lurched to his throat. "Oh shit! What's this?"
"Did you set up the system correctly?" Monica demanded, covering her ears. "Check Donovan's cam!"
Cody typed the command into the keyboard, yielding the exact same results on a second screen. "It's messed up too." He punched the buttons on the control panel, retransferring the audio/video stream again, but both cameras refused to clear. "Damn it! It's not wiring!" He cranked the speakers down to mute and grunted in annoyance. "The connection's gone. We lost audio and video contact."
"Why, dammit, why?"
"I don't know!" He glared at the screen. "Everything had been tested yesterday! I don't understand-"
"Wait a minute. Frank and Alex were going to discuss a video contract with the guys, right?" Monica asked.
"Yeah."
"They're filmmakers, Cody!" she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "They have a horde of video equipment in the house!"
Instantly, the realization poured over him like a bucket of cold water. With their tiny undercover devices entering into a dungeon of outside video signals and connections, their fragile audio/video feed didn't stand a chance. He stared at Monica in despair and sank into his seat. "I didn't think of that."
"So now what're we going to do now, Genius?"
"I can try to reprogram the devices, but that's going to take forever."
Monica picked her way to the front of the van. "Want me to go and see if I can get them out of there?"
"No. Alex's been on a billion cases before. She can handle it on her own. She's okay."
"And Mr. Sunshine?" she retorted. "You think our former Fed's been on enough undercover assignments to handle this one?"
He took a deep breath. "He's not our leader for nothing you know."
Monica matched his gaze for a long time before disappearing through the partition.
Cody flicked the TV screens off, seeing his reflection distorted off of the rounded lens. Alex and Donovan's case was minor compared to the other ones they'd been through, but this was the first time the digital connection had completely shut down. As much as he hated to compare his behind-the-scenes job to the harsh, life-threatening scenarios the agents faced, he could not deny that fact the control center was the heart of the whole operation.
And he was in charge of it.
Gritting his teeth, he flipped up his spare laptop and began to type.
November 8
San Francisco
12:07 PM
James Woods was a mousy man, as short and thin as Ryan Gonzales was not. His stringy blond hair hung limp across his shoulder, and his beady eyes roamed nonstop behind thick glasses.
Alex smiled with satisfaction, seeing those seedy eyes fix onto her body as she and Donovan entered their living room. The place was quite trendy, complete with a black leather sofa set and a hot green lava lamp. The clock on the wall read 12:07 in big red digits. A poster of a half naked woman hung in the hall, with the name "Cinderella" strategically written over her chest area.
Alex mustered up a giggle, clinging to Donovan like a bumper sticker and drawing her hands across his chest. "I wanna be just like her, Johnny."
"You're gonna be even better than her, baby!" He grinned and gestured to Woods and Gonzales. "Kitty Valentine's star material, I'm tellin' ya."
Woods' angular face bobbed up and down in agreement, his eyes not leaving Alex. "Yeah…"
"She's a little thin," Gonzales cut in abruptly. His voice was deep and sounded like rough sandpaper grinding down a blackboard. "And she's seventeen, Johnny."
"Seventeen?" Donovan practically sputtered, raising his sunglasses over his head. "For God's sakes, seventeen, eighteen, forty, what the Hell does that matter?"
"It determines whether we keep our business, or go to jail like you did," he said. "Damn, ever since the first grade, you've been doing this sort of dirty stuff."
Donovan scoffed. He put his hand on Alex's waist and drew her close. "She may be seventeen, but she's better and hotter than any actress out there."
"Perhaps," Gonzales responded. "Let's talk." He walked to the leather sofa and sunk into it. Woods silently scurried off to the adjoining kitchen.
Alex led Donovan to the loveseat, where she pushed him down and squirmed onto his lap like a pet mouse. "Aren't you gonna tell him about the movie I made for you?" she cooed.
"I was just getting to that, baby." Donovan focused on the burly man and wiggled his right eyebrow. "Ryan, did you hear about the movie ER: The Erotic Room? It was a big hit, and Kitty was fabulous."
Alex buried her head into Donovan's neck to prevent herself from bursting out into laughter at the ridiculous movie title. From the corner of her vision, Gonzales was frowning and blinking rapidly, a thoroughly confused expression evident on his face. "Not really," he admitted. "And I've seen every movie that-"
"You gotta be kidding me, my man! Think. A big hospital room, lotsa chicks in uniform, the doctor… How can you tell me you haven't seen it before?"
Alex regained composure and nodded eagerly. "I was a brunette pretending to be a patient. I had on these big hospital scrubs and those- those- What do you call those paper dresses you have to wear, Johnny?"
"Hospital gowns."
"Yeah, hospital gowns." She nodded again.
From the kitchen, Woods scuffled back with four glasses of red wine and a box of chocolates, which he placed on the coffee table in front of them. He sat down beside Gonzales and asked, "Which movie?"
"ER of course!" Donovan yelled. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of it too." He pinned the men with a surprised and hurt expression, until Woods flinched uncomfortably and nudged his partner.
Gonzales narrowed his eyes. "I think I remember what you're talking about. It's the one with the- the- hospital gowns?"
"Hospital gowns," Alex echoed. She glanced at Donovan, who had a smug smile now playing on his lips. "They were really kinky, too."
"It was a good movie," Donovan added. "Kitty was outstanding. You saw it, Ryan. You should know."
"And now you want me to help you produce her," he said, taking a glass of wine and downing it.
"Exactly. You're the greatest moviemaker of the all, man. Even when you were seven years old back in school, I could see your potential."
Gonzales waved the empty glass. "Cut the crap, Johnny."
"Sorry. But seriously, you're great."
"And she's only seventeen. If the police finds out she's underage, we're done for," he said.
Woods shrugged his skinny, wire-like shoulders. "But if they don't find out, we're okay. How much are you paying us?"
Donovan's small smile turned into a self assured grin. He took a chocolate from the paper box and popped it into his mouth. "One thousand," he said, chewing. "Once the movie's made, five thousand dollars more. Baby? Get the money."
Alex reached into his jeans pocket, where she pulled out a wad of fake hundred dollar bills. She leaned over and waved it in front of the two men's noses. Their eyes followed the money, but their hands remained on their laps. Gonzales was shaking his head. "No, man. Not yet."
Alex forced the pleasant expression to remain on her face as she stuffed the bills back inside Donovan's jeans. "Any time, fellas."
"But I've been thinking," continued Gonzales, scrutinizing her, "if you're really worth all the trouble. Being seventeen and all."
"Oh, I am," she whispered huskily. "I'm willing to do anything."
Donovan hugged her to him. "She's real star material, isn't she? She's hot."
"Really now?" Gonzales's voice was low and level, as a sickening smile spread across his lips. "Well, we'll just have to see. You have to demonstrate for us, Kitty."
Alex nearly lost her balance on Donovan's leg. She felt her cover slip for a fraction of a second before regaining control and settling back onto his lap as demurely as she could. "Excuse me, say that again?"
"You have to show us," Gonzales repeated, slowly. "Show us what you look like. Show us how good you are. Right here in this room, before we make any contract. Isn't that right, Woods?"
"Yeah…" Woods' eyes were like two watery orbs that sparkled greedily behind his glasses.
November 7
Dulles Airport
Ten hours previously
The airport that surrounded Jake Shaw was a hazy blur of colors, sounds, and aromas. To his right, a young Asian couple struggling with their luggage and a toddler boy; to his left, a solitary old woman with flowers. Up ahead the Indian Cuisine sent whiffs of curry and spices tingling up his nose.
He stood in the short line behind the ticket counter, glancing at his watch. It was twenty till ten, and forty minutes until the last plane to San Francisco. He smiled grimly. The UC team had to be halfway across America by now, believing he was at home immersed in sleep, and guiltily wishing they were doing the same.
Perhaps only Alex Cross knew him well enough to realize that he wasn't going to sit out of an assignment all the way on the other side of the country. And perhaps it was because of Alex that he was here in the first place, instead of recuperating at home like Frank Donovan had explicitly ordered him to do. They were partners, he and Alex, each selflessly covering each other's backs through any case. She had claimed that he had saved her life in Dallas, but she did not mention the countless other times when she had rescued him from certain death. There was a connection between them as strong as it was unspoken.
And even if Frank Donovan would never understand this bond, he wasn't going to break it either.
Jake took his wallet out of his pocket and walked up to the ticket counter. "A ten twenty flight to San Francisco, please."
November 8
San Francisco
12:34 PM
Maybe it was a spur of the moment idea, but maybe Frank Donovan truly had a level of high intelligence and wit within his usual demanding, impeccable exterior. He lifted Alex off of his lap and said to Gonzales and Woods without missing a beat, "Sorry kids. No can do. I'm not going to show Kitty to you until you sign our contract. It's one of my biggest rules, you know."
Alex shrugged. "Sorry. Part of my contract."
"But it's not part of mine," Gonzales said gratingly. "I'm risking my career just to be in the same room with you, Johnny Bouvier. If you expect me to sign a contract without letting me have a look at her, you might as well get out of my house."
Donovan got to his feet, waving his hands in protest. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. All I'm asking is that you sign a piece of-"
"Never, Johnny," he said. "You don't agree? All right, the deal's off."
"But Ryan-"
"Johnny?" Alex faced Donovan and touched his shoulder. The clock on the wall behind him read 12:36, which left them a little less than half an hour to complete the deal that had just taken a detour for the worse. She felt their options slipping. "I think… with these two young men, I'm willing to not follow the contract," she said.
The look in his eyes was slightly confused. "Are you saying you're gonna to take off your clothes for them before we get the paper signed, baby?"
"Yes."
"We gotta talk about this," he said, and Alex heard Frank Donovan's familiar tone of command sliding through his cover.
"You're making these two men not want me," she pouted, frowning. "What if they don't sign the contract?"
Donovan, not Bouvier, shook his head. "But you can't do it."
"Who says I can't?"
"Me. Alex- Kitty, listen."
She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could continue. It was 12:38. "Let's talk privately, Johnny. This is about my career. Okay?"
"Now you want to talk privately?" Gonzales edged in, looking completely irritated. "What are you two up to?"
She smiled innocently. "I think I'll convince him in private. Got a place where we can… talk?"
"A bathroom down the hall and to the right." Gonzales pointed to the general direction. "And make it quick, or there's no way the deal's gonna work."
"Oh, I'm sure that he'll be quick." Grabbing Donovan's arm and pulling him after her, she smiled at Gonzales again and headed down the hall.
The bathroom was tiny, but thankfully clean. She stepped inside with Donovan and locked the door behind them. They stared at each other in a moment of uncertainty before Alex exhaled the breath she had been holding since noon and hardened her gaze. "What the Hell just happened out there, Donovan?"
"No, what the Hell were you doing, Agent Cross?" he returned. "We can never argue when we're in the field. Never. Do you understand me?"
"Are you telling me what I understand?" she said. She struggled to keep her voice low. "Look, the police are going to come in twenty minutes and our contract is still not signed. They're going to come knocking on Gonzales's door and find out he's still an innocent man."
"And you'll take off your clothes in front of them for this deal?"
"Yes, Frank, I have to!"
He shook his head firmly. "Not for this minor case. Not for any case."
Alex thinned her lips, feeling that she was hanging from the last strands of her patience. The pressures of a migraine had started to form behind her temples. "I am not going to leave San Francisco until I have the two men in jail."
"Alex, it's not worth it," Donovan bit out. "I'd rather go back empty handed."
"But I wouldn't! If I knew that you felt this way about the case, I would have never come here for nothing!"
Donovan fell silent. He was visibly furious, mirroring the same expression as Alex. "And you think this is the right decision?"
"There is no right decision. I don't have the privilege to make a decision. The case makes the decision, and Cody and Monica will agree with me." Alex touched her right hoop earring. "It's about time we should talk with them."
Donovan sighed and nodded, leaning against the bathroom door. He took the sunglasses from his head and studied it. "Cody? Talk to us."
Alex pressed the sapphires on her earring. She wasn't hearing the usual hum of electrical signals inside the decoy, but Cody was known to add an obscure on/off switch to some of his devices for extra security. "Team, give us a sign." She shook the earring carefully, hearing nothing.
"They're not responding, Alex," Donovan said, handing her the sunglasses. "They're not at their stations."
"No, they have to be." She took the sunglasses in her hand and listened to it. It was silent. "Shit. These are broken. There's no signal. No electrical hum, no beeps. Nothing."
"And yours?"
"The same." She grimaced, handing over the pair of sunglasses back to Donovan. "I don't know what's wrong."
"Well, are we able to fix it?" he demanded.
"Of course not. We don't have any time. We have to go back to Woods and Gonzales right now."
"You sure?"
"Damn it, yes!" She swallowed. "We're on are own."
"And because we couldn't get Cody and Monica's opinion, you are going to tell Gonzales that the contract is off," Donovan articulated. "You're not going to put on a strip sh-"
Angrily, Alex grabbed the front of his tee shirt in her fist. "No, Frank! I will do what is right for this case. I will do what will put these men behind bars," she spat, shoving her nose two inches from his. She knew she was defying all protocol, but was past caring. The buildup of tension and fatigue since Dallas had transformed her into a person she was barely able to control.
"Watch your words, Alex. You keep on forgetting that I'm your leader," Frank Donovan whispered in a voice as quiet as the calm before the clashing storm. "I don't advise you to argue so much with me."
Alex saw the darkness in his pupils and callously released him from her grip. "You may be the team's leader, but in the field you're my partner," she said, pushing past him and twisting the door lock. "And I don't advise you to argue with me either. Okay… Johnny?" Plastering a smile on her face, she took his hand and opened the door.
November 8
San Francisco
12:47 PM
"One more line… just one more…" Cody stared at the black letters on his monitor until his eyes watered. He had already filled close to three pages with mind-numbing programming, but the rewiring of the audio/video devices required a closing line to the data… something that had long slipped his mind since the class in college. He yawned his head back in his seat and grunted in aggravation.
With luck, the pornography deal would be complete by the time the police came, but in the undercover business, there was no such thing as luck. The best he could hope to do was keep working up to the end.
"Oh my God, Cody, look who's here!" Monica called from the front of the van.
Cody jolted out of his chair. "Oh, shit. Are the police here early?" He ran up to the fabric partition and flung it open. Monica was sitting in the driver's seat, talking with a man standing outside of her lowered window.
Cody gaped. It wasn't the police. It was Jake Shaw.
His face was shadowy and his clothes were rumpled from traveling, but unquestionably, it was Jake.
"I thought you couldn't come with us!" Cody opened the passenger side door of the van and signaled him to enter. "Donovan gave you direct orders to stay at home."
"Couldn't miss you guys for the world, man," Jake croaked, climbing in. He sunk into the seat like a deflated balloon, resting his cast arm gently across his stomach. "I tracked you guys down through the FBI. Sneaky, huh?"
"Too sneaky," Monica said. "You'll kill yourself one day." She regarded his cast and gave him a reprimanding glare.
"How's the assignment going? How's Alex doing with Donovan?"
"Its…" Cody glanced at Monica before continuing. She seemed no happier than him about telling Jake the details of the case, but it was duty. "We lost audio and video contact with them," he said blankly. "We don't know."
Jake Shaw snapped up from his seat as if he had been shot. "You lost contact?"
"Yes. The local boys' camera equipment messed up our system."
"But you lost contact?"
"Hey! Cody's been trying to fix it all day, okay?" Monica snapped back. "Alex and Donovan will do fine! They're probably securing the deal right now."
Jake shook his head. "No. We never assume that. How can we help them?"
"We can't," Cody said. "We know if they succeed or fail in…" He lifted up his wrist and looked at the numbers on his watch. "Eleven minutes and fifty two seconds. That's when the police arrive."
"No, man. I need to go in."
"Damn it, you can't. What are you going to be? Have you even prepared anything?"
Jake was already opening the van door and stepping outside. "Yeah. I thought about it. I'll be okay. I'll see you in ten minutes." He began to run across the street in the direction of the light blue house. "Keep fixing the audio!"
Cody took a step forward, stumbling when he felt a strong hand pull him back.
"Let him go. He'll be fine," Monica said. The tone of her voice revealed uncertainty, but she kept her hand on Cody. "He's a pro at this sort of stuff."
"Even pros have failures, okay? I don't think-"
"Cody, shut up. Just work on the programming." She gave him a small shove and fixed her eyes on the red numbers on the van's dashboard. The digits turned from 12:49 to 12:50.
November 8
San Francisco
12:50 PM
The living room was suddenly cold and empty, save for the three pairs of eyes watching Agent Alex Cross. Woods looked as if he could hardly contain his excitement, and Gonzales was professionally intense. The vacant expression on Frank Donovan's face was indiscernible.
Alex lifted her flimsy tank top over her head and tossed it at him, puckering her lips and blowing him a kiss. The cold air bit at her bare torso but she held on to her composure.
Two more minutes and three more articles of clothing, and the deal would almost certainly be signed. She held on to that thought and disregarded the rapid beating of her heart.
"Take off your bra," Woods commanded in a hiss.
A faint smile crept to Gonzales's mouth, but Donovan's expression was still unreadable.
Alex looped one finger underneath her bra strap and erased his image from her field of vision. She slid the strap over her shoulder.
And without warning, the doorbell rang several times in succession. "Hey, open up! Let me in!"
"What the Hell is going on?" Gonzales shot up from the sofa and sprinted to the door. "Who is this?"
"Randy Blair, of course. I thought you were expecting me," the voice said.
Alex froze. As impossible as it was, the voice undeniably belonged to Jake Shaw. She hurried to Donovan and grabbed her shirt and slipped it back on. "It's Jake," she whispered.
"I know," he said darkly. He crossed his arms over his chest and remained in his seat.
The bell sounded again. "Damn it. I know I'm late but let me in. Have you already worked out a deal with Kitty?" Jake yelled from behind the door. "You know, the seventeen year old chick?"
Gonzales's eyes instantly registered panic. He flung the door open and dragged Jake inside. "Shit! Don't say that so loud! There's police out there, you son of a bitch!"
Jake winced and hugged his injured arm. "Hey, watch it. I got hurt two days ago."
"And you'll get hurt even more if you don't shut your trap." Gonzales said. "Who are you anyway?"
Jake laughed. "Don't you remember or didn't Bouvier here tell you? I wanna produce Kitty Valentine, man. I wanna produce her bad. Bouvier invited me here for this deal."
Alex sashayed over to him and kissed him on his scratchy cheek. "Hi Mr. Blair." She focused on Gonzales and grinned at him haughtily. "Mr. Blair's the producer who actually wants to make me a star."
"I'm guessing you didn't even make the deal with Gonzales, baby," Jake said. "He's missing out on a lot."
Alex shrugged her shoulders. "But I'd rather work with you."
"But you won't." A thin hand that belonged to James Woods separated Alex from Jake and pulled her back behind him. "You know, me and Ryan's been thinking," he said. "I don't know who this man is, or where he came from, but you ain't going to let this deal slip by us so quickly."
Gonzales reached into his jacket and pulled out a ballpoint pen. "I'm signing the deal with you, Kitty. You're working with me. Johnny? Where's your contract?"
Donovan leaned over on the sofa. He took out a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and opened it. It was neatly typed, with the word 'Contract' filling the top border. "I'm letting you sign this because I've known you from grade school, Ryan," he said. "Produce her well." He put the paper on the coffee table.
Gonzales took his pen and scribbled his signature down on one of the three blank lines beneath the text. He handed the pen to Donovan, who signed Bouvier's name on the other line. Donovan passed the document and pen to Woods.
"You'll thank us for this, Johnny," the scrawny man said. "Kitty'll become famous. With us." He filled the last blank.
In the distance, the wail of police sirens sounded like music to Alex Cross's ears. She smiled at Jake and glanced at the clock.
12:59.
November 11
UC Headquarters
1:32 AM
Kicking, punching and hitting, Alex Cross attacked the punching bag with all of her strength. Her muscles ached and her lungs burned with the desire for oxygen, but she forced herself to continue. All she concentrated on was the feel of the heavy bag striking against her fists, and all she heard was the dissonant hard rock music that surged from the boom box into every corner of the UC gym.
The violence cleared her mind like nothing else could. She felt the memories of Dallas and San Francisco flow out of her with the sweat that trickled down her neck and back. The next morning, she would be calm, levelheaded Alex again, eagerly ready to receive the next case file as if she had been totally unaffected by the previous cases. She couldn't afford to be affected. Her emotions and fears and loves and hates were things that slowed an undercover agent down. She needed to be ready to be anyone, under any circumstance.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure open the gym door and step inside. It was probably Jake, the only other person who stayed at the headquarters past eleven thirty on a regular basis.
She continued her punching.
"Alex," the person called, turning the music off. The gym was suddenly as quiet as a tomb, the only sounds being Alex's jagged breaths and muffled hits.
She stopped assailing the punching bag and turned around. The person was not Jake, but Frank Donovan.
He was wearing a black tee shirt and beige sweatpants, with a bath towel around his neck. His short hair was tousled and unbrushed. "I thought you didn't like hard rock," he said.
Alex wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her hand. "I do, on occasion. Why are you still here?"
"The same reason you are." Donovan smiled at her, handing her the towel. "I came to take my anger out on the poor punching bag."
She laughed, welcoming the coolness of the towel on her flushed skin, and walked over to her Coke bottle on the edge of the mat. She took a long drink.
"You should go home, you know," Donovan said.
"Can't sleep."
"That's not a good enough answer."
She looked into his eyes. "You care about what happens to me?"
"I care about all of my agents," he answered. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.
"That's good."
He nodded, and sat down on the mat. The orange overhead light softened his features, casting warm shadows around him. Alex sat beside him and stared at her hands. She felt his eyes not leaving her.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about what a good job you did in San Francisco," he said quietly. "The two men never suspected you were fake. They believed you completely."
"Thanks," she mumbled. If she wasn't mistaken, Frank Donovan had just given her a compliment. She didn't know what else to say to that.
Donovan exhaled lightly. "And… I think I acted a little… inappropriate out there. I shouldn't have come down on you so hard." He hesitated as if searching for the words. "I'm sorry."
Alex's jaw dropped. "You're apologizing to me?" she asked. "You're apologizing to me?"
"Yes. Is that wrong?"
"It's- never mind." She smiled. "I think I should be the one to apologize."
"But if you didn't do what you did, the deal might have never worked out."
"No… It's not me. It's Jake. If he didn't come, the deal might have never worked."
Donovan was silent.
"Jake's like this. He's never going to change," Alex said. "He thinks if he's not there, everything's going to collapse."
"But this time he was right, right?" Donovan asked. There was no hint of anger or sarcasm in his voice.
"Right." She took another drink of her Coke.
"Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"I have another question for you."
She touched his bare arm, which was warm and dry under her fingers. "Go for it."
"I was thinking about something," he said, "if it's not so much trouble for you, of course, if… perhaps you can come to have lunch with me tomorrow at the café down the street? We can talk there and-"
"Wait a minute." Alex stared at him. "Did you just ask me out?"
Frank Donovan's mouth opened for a split second, then closed. He blinked twice before shaking his head in protest. "No, of course not! I was just suggesting."
Alex couldn't stop the grin from forming on her lips. "That was a request for a date, Donovan. You're asking me out."
"I'm not asking you out on a date. Not a date date."
"Hey, guys have asked me out before. You're asking me to go on a date."
"That's ridiculous! To a café?"
"Because you don't know me well enough to ask me out to a four star restaurant," she said, getting up.
Donovan pursed his lips. "It's not a date, but if you really want to think of it that way, can you come?"
Alex shook her head. "Nope, sorry. I can't."
"Oh. Okay, I understand."
"Because I'm on a diet," she said. She tossed the towel to him and began to walk toward the gym door.
Donovan was on his feet in an instant, grabbing her wrist and plucking the Coke from her hands. "If you're on a diet, you shouldn't cheat," he said.
Alex chuckled. "Okay, I lied. I'm not on a diet. I'm married. I can't go out with you."
"Ah. I see. With three kids, a golden retriever, and a basketball hoop in the driveway?"
"Something like that. A big, happy family."
"I envy your life," Donovan said before opening the gym door and walking out. The door clicked closed behind him.
Alex Cross shut her eyes and felt the tears stinging her eyes and nose. "I do too," she whispered. "I do too."
Finis.
I'm getting kinda lonely in this bed
Don't know if I should lick my wounds
Or say woe is me instead
And there's an aching inside my head
It's telling me I'm better off alone
But after midnight morning will come
~Natalie Furtado (Turn Off the Lights)
Okay, what do you think? Please review! It'll make my day!!
Finished on November 17, 2001
5:33 PM
2shy@teenagewildlife.com