Ben stood outside the Canadian Consulate looking straight ahead, still as a statue. He'd been like that for four hours in the soggy, spring weather. His feet hurt and there was bird guano on the tip of his Stetson, but still, it was his duty and he'd never complain. He only had one more hour before it was Turnbull's shift at sentry duty. That thought alone kept him perfectly still. In the Mountie's periphery vision he saw someone he'd seen before but couldn't place, someone from Ottawa. Ben mentally shrugged, he had another hour of duty and doubted anything the man had for the Canadian Consulate's Chicago branch would involve him anyway.
Turnbull tapped on the inspector's door, a pensive expression on his face.
"Sir, there's someone here to see you, an Agent Markham." The junior officers' voice conveyed his nervousness. Inspector Thatcher took a deep breath and fixed a look of cool professionalism on her face. She didn't feel like dealing with this before she'd had her coffee.
"Show him in Constable, thank you." Inspector Thatcher answered promptly. Turnbull opened the door.
"Good morning, Inspector Thatcher," A tall man in a dark business suit greeted her, his credentials in hand. "I'm Agent Landon Markham, CISIS." The man's dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed the woman seated before him. He knew everything her RCMP file had to say about her as well as her parents, friends, co-workers and even her dead dog's veterinary records.
"I wasn't aware anyone was coming." Thatcher peered at the credentials she'd been handed, squinting at them after she shook his hand.
"Please, Inspector Thatcher, feel free to put on your prescription glasses." Markham seated himself on a chair across the desk from her. All Meg could do was glare at him as she pulled the offending spectacles out of her desk drawer.
"I can see you have the upper hand, Agent Markham. What's this about?" Meg handed him back his credentials. She studied the lean, featured man.
"If you'll call your subordinate officers into your office I can fill you in all at once." Markham leaned back against the teal blue chair and crossed his legs.
Meg raised one eyebrow before picking up the phone and telling Turnbull to collect Fraser. They waited a moment in silence, Markham's gaze drifting to the landscape painting off to his left. The way office was decorated spoke volumes about the character of Margaret Thatcher. It spoke of a confident, in control woman. She was the queen of the place and she knew it.
"You wanted to see us, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stood straight and tall, his Stetson tucked beneath his arm.
"Agent Markham here will fill us in, all at once." Thatcher's voice dripped with sarcasm. The government agent let it slide.
"Thank you for your time, Inspector Thatcher. Your exemplary work is well known in Ottawa. What I'm here for today is to put you and one of your officers on a special, undercover assignment." He let the announcement sink in before continuing. "As you know, Canada's military strives to keep up with the rest of the world. One of our investments was found in a woman's purse three days ago." He pulled a photo from his briefcase and handed it to Thatcher. She gasped when she saw the remarkable resemblance between herself and the woman in the photo. "That is Candace Southerby, she's the personal secretary to Andrew Thornton, a software designer specializing in data storage. If he is successful in developing his latest brain child Canada's government will be able to put every file for an office this size on a chip the size of a pencil eraser." Turnbull's eyes widened in fascination. Thatcher expected him to say something at any moment.
"What would I and one of my officers have to do with this assignment, Agent Markham?" The inspector asked, anxious.
"Candace Southerby and her husband, Benjamin, the bearded guy in the photo, were going to Alaska aboard a cruise ship to meet a contact to hand the plans off. She doesn't know what the contact looks like, only a code name-Alexander the Great. We need you to chose one of your officers to impersonate the couple. I'll be the agent running the show, back-up with another agent on the ship." Markham looked directly at the inspector, wondering if she were up to the task. Her record said she was but he had doubts. If he had to bet, he would have laid odds Thatcher would pick Fraser.
"When would I leave?" Inspector Thatcher asked, straightening her dark lavender suit jacket. She took one more look at the bearded guy in the photograph. With that mountain man bush covering the lower half of his face it could be anyone. If Candace Southerby was about Meg's height, then Fraser would be the better choice of the two constables.
"First thing tomorrow morning, I need your choice of officers within the hour to begin the paperwork." Markham watched as Thatcher looked between the two officers standing beside him, both quiet as church mice. Her gaze rested on Constable Benton Fraser, the senior of the two and from all accounts the more competent, though some would disagree.
"If you'll excuse us, I need to discuss this with Constables Turnbull and Fraser." Thatcher said, her voice strong despite the shaking inside her.
"That's fine, I need to find the lavatory anyway." Turnbull pointed him in the right direction down the hall.
"I volunteer for the assignment, Sir." Turnbull spoke when the room had cleared. Inspector Thatcher fixed her iciest stare on the junior Mountie.
"You look nothing like Benjamin Southerby, Constable Turnbull." The inspector pursed her lips. Turning to Fraser she said, "I won't ask you to go, Constable Fraser, it's your decision." Inside her stomach churned with both giddy anticipation and dread. Did he know that they would be in close quarters until this was over?
"Inspector Thatcher, I don't feel that I would be an asset undercover." Constable Fraser began, his thumbnail smoothing his eyebrow. She could feel the tension rolling off of him. Ben knew that if he met her eyes he'd cave in.
"I understand your hesitation, Constable Fraser. Deceit isn't one of your strong suits." Thatcher stopped cold, what could she say that wouldn't sound like begging? She crossed her arms, taking a deep breath. "I wouldn't want you to feel responsible for my personal safety." Meg hated playing the female card, but she had to regardless. Fraser's gaze raised, his chin still down.
"This Benjamin Southerby does bear a passable resemblance to myself, perhaps I could be of assistance." Fraser groaned inwardly, this was his worst nightmare.
"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Thatcher relaxed a fraction.
Markham smirked when he heard that Thatcher had coerced Constable Fraser into going undercover with her. The agent's dark eyes studied the pair, and what an odd pair they were. Inspector Margaret "Meg" Thatcher was a career woman, attaining her rank by age thirty-one. She'd either charmed or bullied her way through the ranks. Her record spoke of an intelligent, well motivated woman. Constable Benton Fraser on the other hand, while equally as intelligent and motivated, did things more by his own rule book. He'd been exiled to Chicago after turning in a fellow officer for the murder of Robert Fraser, his father, legendary Mountie and for embarrassing the Canadian government. While in Chicago he'd managed to garner an unofficial partner in Detective Ray Vecchio, allies in the twenty-seventh precinct and among the city's citizens. Fraser and Thatcher seemed ill at ease with each other.
"Alright, I'll get the ball rolling on visas, identification and cruise tickets." Markham pulled out a sheaf of paperwork from his briefcase.
"Constable Turnbull will assist you with anything you need, Agent Markham." Inspector Thatcher offered, feeling like she was being run out of her own office.
"Good evening, Ray." Fraser came with his hat in his hand, literally, Dief in tow. The Italian descendant detective looked up from the never ending pile of paperwork camped out on his desk.
"Hey, Benny. What's up, I hear Welsh had a phone call from the mother ship about you this morning." Ray leaned back in his office chair. The Mountie gave him a hang-dog look.
"I've been given an assignment that's going to take me out of town for a week or two, Ray. I was wondering if I could persuade you to watch Diefenbaker for me while I'm gone?" The Mountie gave him his best beggars' expression.
"Ah, nah, Benny, that wolf of yours chews through everything in my place. Last time I kept him overnight he destroyed three pair of my best dress shoes." Ray began whining.
"He needs to stay with someone who knows him, Ray, please?" Fraser tried again.
"I'll take him for you, Fraser." Frannie interjected, popping her chewing gum as she sauntered into the conversation.
"Frannie, you can't even keep a goldfish alive, you had five hamsters when we were kids." Ray protested. Sometimes Ray could strangle his younger sister.
"You were the reason all my hamsters died, Ray." She stabbed her brother's shoulder with a sharp, manicured finger.
"Ouch, Frannie, are those Lee Press On's or knife blades?" Ray pulled her finger out of his flesh.
"Thank you, Francesca, I'd much appreciate it if you wouldn't feed him sweets." Dief groaned at that sentence. He was deaf, not clueless. Fraser always forbid sweets.
"Sure, no problem." Frannie smiled at the Mountie sweetly, perching on the corner of her brother's desk.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Frannie, gossiping at the water cooler or something?" Ray pulled a plastic ruler out of his desk and bent it backward, slapping Frannie's fanny with a loud, 'snap'.
"Ouch!" She jumped to her feet, dancing in pain. "That better not leave a blister, Raymond Vecchio or I'm gonna tell Ma about how Granny Mona's vase got broke." Frannie rubbed the offended area as she walked away from his desk. Fraser sat on the sideline with eyes wide open, innocent.
"When do you leave, Fraser?" Ray waved his sister's pain off as he returned to the topic.
"Tomorrow afternoon. I'll be at the consulate until time to leave." Ben stood up to leave.
"Come on, let me buy you dinner. I ain't goin home any time soon. Ma's going to be mad until further notice. The detective grabbed his suit jacket and caught up to the Mountie, Dief trotting along behind them.