It had been just long enough for her to stop dreading the ring of the telephone. Nowadays when she picked up the receiver it was Helen, or the school, or Chris, or at the very worst, a vacuum cleaner salesman offering an in-home demonstration. So she was caught unawares by the voice on the other end.

"Jaime, it's Russ."

There it was. That grave, official OSI tone which had always made her snap to high alert. Now it made her angry. It had been two months since she had tried to resign from the OSI, and, just like in a creepy spy novel, it had been made abundantly clear that she would not be allowed to retire - probably ever. Since then they had been decent enough to give her a break and leave her in peace. Good thing too, because she was still mad as hell about the whole thing. Mostly she tried not to think about it, but when she did she reached boiling point in seconds. In the aftermath of that debacle there had been some cozy talk from the Washington big shots, meant to placate her after hunting her down like a deer in the woods - but it had a hollow ring to it. Certainly her best friends in the world worked at the OSI, but the fact was they were all caught up in the big cold machinery of that institution - and she had come to almost hate it. It had yanked her in three years ago by giving her a gift so extraordinary it could never be repaid. Still, she tried - day after day, year after year - until the OSI ground her down to the point she wasn't even sure there was a soul left in her anymore.

Finally she had asserted herself, and Oscar and all the bureaucrats above him in the food chain agreed to back off. This period away had been wonderful - reaffirming in her that her impulse to leave intelligence work behind had been well founded. Her life was normal. She worked, she mucked out the barn, she watched TV, she drank beer with the other teachers on Friday night - she was even sleeping soundly eight hours a night!

If Chris were around more often life would be near perfect. Because OSI business kept him away in Washington they only saw each other on weekends (at best), and it perpetually felt like a new relationship - which was nice in some ways and frustrating in others. Despite his absences, Jaime felt he had a steadying effect on her. He was a practical and kindly guy, if occasionally irritable and short on imagination.

"I'm not ready yet, Russ. Not even close." she said firmly into the telephone.

"Actually, Jaime, this is personal." Russ interjected. "Oscar is gone."

"What?!" she asked, her indignation turning into heart clenching fear. "Gone? What do you mean gone?!" She realized in that instant that there was something inevitable about this phone call, like she'd been unconsciously waiting for it for years. Someday, someone close to her would be 'gone'.

"He didn't show up this morning. He was due back today after taking Thursday and Friday off last week. Callahan and I finally went into his office and we found a letter of resignation on the desk. It looks like he took that time to disappear - there's no sign of him at home or anywhere else we'd be likely to find him." He hesitated, allowing Jaime a moment to absorb the information. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Oh my God, Russ," she breathed, "I thought you were telling me he was dead." She wobbled to the bed and sat down, her heart racing. Her momentary relief was instantly replaced by fresh anxieties. "He disappeared? Oscar wouldn't disappear - he wouldn't do that. What if he was kidnapped?"

"I don't think so, Jaime. If you'd ever asked me hypothetically how Oscar would choose to disappear, this is exactly how I would imagine it - no loose ends. He practically had my breakfast set out for me when I came in this morning."

It was unthinkable. Oscar without the OSI, and worse yet, the OSI without Oscar - well, she couldn't imagine what would become of both of them.

"But...why?" was all she could manage. Looming large in her mind was another deeply bothersome question - Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he been in touch?

Russ could only guess at his motives, but it had been a particularly hellish couple of months since Jaime had left. A double agent had stolen two pieces of top secret technology and sold them to the Soviets; there had been a breakdown in important talks with a defecting Chinese scientist, and a close call with a stolen nuclear weapon in Bulgaria. In that last crisis they had lost two agents - one of whom had been an old friend of Oscar's. Not surprisingly, he took the whole thing very hard.

"Oh dear." she sighed, suddenly wishing she had called him. "What did his letter say?"

"It's pretty basic. "I, Oscar Goldman, am resigning from the Directorship of the Office of Scientific Information effective immediately. Do not look for me. After dedicating my life to the service of my country, I fully expect that you will believe me when I say that I am in possession of no secret documents, and have no intention of revealing any of my knowledge of the secrets of this country to any person. Nor do I need protection. Please immediately change all top secret codes to which I have had access. You will find a comprehensive code list and documentation to all projects in segregated vaults according to security level."" She heard a rustle of paper, and Russ sighed before he continued. "Then there's some stuff about the new chain of command - he's put me in charge along with Art Kasher - you know, that Deputy Director you never see? And... that's it."

"Nothing else?"

"No. Nothing."

The world was still somersaulting around her when she put the phone down a minute later.

The more she thought about it, the uneasier she felt. Oscar would have had to be under incredible duress to pull a stunt like this. If it was some sort of breakdown, which seemed increasingly likely, he had disappeared like an injured animal when he needed help the most. And she couldn't deny that to some measure, she was hurt - why hadn't he told her? That memorable afternoon in her apartment he had said something which she thought of almost daily. He had told her he loved her, and that she was "the closest thing to family I'll ever have." It was the seal on an already close relationship - this just didn't make any sense.

She immediately called Russ back.

"I have to find him Russ. I need to know he's okay."

"You don't have to do that, Jaime. The NSB will likely find him."

"But that's not good enough! I don't trust those guys - do you?"

"Well," he replied uncertainly, "I don't think they'd harm him..."

"Russ - they practically issued a 'wanted dead or alive' poster for me - imagine what they'd do with Oscar. No - I've got to find him."

She heard him breathe deeply. Undoubtedly he was under a lot of stress. "Listen, Jaime," he finally said, his tone cautious, "if you're really going to do this I'll help where I can, but it won't be much. Everyone is going to be watching me like a hawk - to see if I can fill Oscar's shoes - and what they most of all want to see is that I don't share his ... gee, how do they put it?...his tendency to be get emotional."

"Is that what they say about him?" she asked angrily. "Just because he happens to care?"

"They do. Okay..." Russ's voice switched into planning mode, "We're going to have to do some fancy footwork to dodge the NSB, because they'll be all over you - but if you do find him you've got the best chance of figuring out what's going on - as a friend - and the best chance of talking some sense into him."

"Yeah." Jaime replied. She wasn't so certain of that last sentiment - she was hardly in the position or the mood to talk 'sense' to anyone about the OSI.

"Can you come out to Washington tonight?"

"Of course." she replied, suddenly feeling the familiar wave of stress she associated with a mission. If she weren't so worried, she would be just a little angry at Oscar. A mission for a friend was one she could not refuse. This was one of the ways the OSI had always sucked her in - she just hated standing around in a crisis with nothing to do.