Title: The Guiding Light
Author: Shelly
E-Mail: Teen or PG-13 (for mild language)
Disclaimer: "Scarecrow & Mrs. King" is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Enterprises LTD. Use of these characters is strictly for entertainment purposes. I can only dream about one day getting paid to do this. Do not redistribute without express permission from the author.
Summary: Lee has to stop a man from selling military secrets to the Russians. (Classic TV Guide synopsis, heh!)
First Posted: 1/25/06
Timeframe: Season One -- after "The Mole" -- February, 1984
Feedback: Expected, please!
Archive: Permission granted to post at and -- any others, please ask permission before posting or linking. Thanks!
Author's Notes and Thanks: This story was originally written in May of 2003. Yes, it has been sitting on my hard drive for almost three years - nearly complete. With the recent discussions about first season fics, I decided to dust it off, polish it up, and post it.
This will, very likely, be my last SMK story. I've been involved in other fandoms for the last couple of years and just haven't had the spark. Consider this, then, my last hurrah. How odd, though, that my last dive into the SMK waters would be in a season I never write about and is not angsty or romantic in any way!
Since this is so old and has been through so many incarnations -- rather than list the people who helped me with betaing and concrit along the way, it would be safer to just send out a blanket thank you or risk leaving someone out. As this is completely out of my comfort zone, it should be explained that I was challenged to write a season one fic with no romance or angst. Otherwise, I don't think this would have ever been written.
The Guiding Light - Intro
Lee Stetson tapped on the partially open door and casually peeked inside Billy Melrose's office. The Section Chief glanced up from the manila folder on his desk and raised a hand, beckoning the field agent to enter. As Lee pushed the door open, he first caught sight of a pair of Gucci heels followed by the long legs of Francine Desmond. She smiled a pert smile, which he returned.
"You wanted to see me?" Lee closed the door, stepped behind Francine, and leaned against the bookshelf, wondering what was so all-fired important that he'd had to stay later than he'd intended.
"I've for a new assignment for you, Scarecrow," Billy explained, raising his gaze to meet Lee's eyes as he pushed the file across his desk toward Francine
"What?" Lee jumped to attention. "I'm off the duty roster for the weekend, Billy. You can't do this to me." His eyes pleaded with Billy's as his voice raised half an octave. "I've made plans," he added, knowing they would ultimately have to be canceled.
"Cancel them," Billy suggested. "This wasn't my call, Lee. This is coming straight from the top."
"Damn," Lee muttered. Defeated, he moved around Francine to seat himself in a vacant chair. "What is it this time?"
While Lee had been unsuccessfully trying to weasel out of his assignment, Francine had scooped up the folder and had been perusing the contents. "Looks pretty easy, Lee. If you're lucky, you might be able to salvage part of your weekend." She looked up from the collection of photos and documents long enough to shoot him a saccharine-sweet smile. Lee grimaced at her in return.
"John McCrae," Billy interjected, with what Lee recognized was an attempt to pull his attention away from the battle of wits in which he was about to engage. "He's a researcher with Dayton Technologies and head of the department that's working on Project Guiding Light for the military."
Lee had slipped into agent mode and was listening intently, thoughts of skiing with Nadine -- and Francine's barbs -- the furthest things from his mind. "Guiding Light," he repeated. The name sounded familiar. Recalling a strained conversation he'd recently had with his uncle, he snapped his fingers. "That's the new guidance system they're planning on installing on Air Force jets for use on aircraft carriers."
"Bingo." Billy nodded toward the folder on Francine's lap. "We've received pretty good intel that McCrae may be looking to supplement his income with some information sales to the Russians."
Drumming her manicured nails against the armrest, Francine nodded. "That makes sense." She turned to Lee and continued. "If the KGB knows the technology, they can use it against us. Guiding Light is supposed to help guide planes to the carrier under adverse weather conditions. If they can jam our signal and send out a legitimate-looking signal of their own . . ."
Lee nodded, not needing -- or wanting -- to hear the rest. "So, what's the plan?"
"We need to get close to McCrae." Billy stood and walked around the desk, one hand in his pocket. "I've been thinking about it and, based on the reports we've received, I think we have a good opportunity. See -- McCrae likes to frequent a bar near his house. He goes there nearly every night after work. Our informant has been watching him and it seems he likes to take a lady home with him as often as he can."
Lee perked up. "Great! We can send Francine in as bait." He glanced her way and grinned as she rolled her eyes, obviously wishing for an opponent more worthy of her vamping skills.
"No go." Lee and Francine both turned a startled head toward Billy. "He doesn't go for glamorous. His type runs more along the lines of the . . . commonplace."
Billy's words began to register and Lee shook his head. "No, no, no. I will not ask Amanda to do this. It's out of her league. It's too dangerous. She's not trained. She's just civilian auxiliary." He ticked off his points on his fingers and tried to remain rational, realizing too late that he sounded very much like a two-year-old who'd been told he couldn't have ice cream right before dinner.
Billy smiled as Lee rattled off his reasons, jumping in when he paused to take a breath. "Are you finished? She's exactly what we're looking for and you'll be out there with her the whole time. All she has to do is get him to take her back to his place. We'll take it from there. No arguments."
Lee's head hung in defeat as Francine stood. "I'll start getting things ready on this end," she said to Billy. Over her shoulder, she purred to Lee, "Looks like you can cancel your weekend after all."
Part Two
"Amanda, what are you doing?"
Amanda King looked up from the sewing machine to find her mother staring at her over a basket of clothes. She knew what Dotty meant, but decided to play with her a little. "Sewing?" she replied through the straight pins she held in her teeth.
"I know you're sewing, dear." Dotty sighed and took another step into the den. "Why are you sewing patches on to a Girl Scout uniform?"
Amanda smiled and took the pins out of her mouth, sticking them into the tomato-shaped pincushion strapped to her wrist. "Jamie's friend Jason's sister, Melissa, is a Girl Scout and her mother asked me if I could sew on her patches. Apparently, she has problems with circles." She gestured to the pile of one-and-a-half inch round patches stacked next to the machine. "At this rate, I'll be an expert."
Dotty nodded and smiled. "It's too bad you didn't have a daughter."
"Oh, no. Boys are so much easier," Amanda assured her, and both laughed at the outrageous notion.
Dotty turned to continue upstairs with the laundry, her voice echoing through the foyer, "If you say so, dear. By the way, when do you need to pick up Phillip?"
Amanda quickly glanced at her wrist, cursing under her breath when the pincushion didn't display the time, and leapt to her feet. "The bus is supposed to get back to the school at six," she called up the stairs on her way to the kitchen, where the wall clock confirmed that she had five minutes to get in the car and hit the road.
"Damn." She stepped to the foyer and shouted to her mother. "I have to get going. The chicken needs to come out of the oven in thirty minutes. Can you get that for me?"
As soon as she heard her mother's muffled, "Yes, dear," she picked up her coat, purse and keys and headed for the door. The ringing of the phone stopped her in her tracks. Turning on her heel, she sprinted for the kitchen, grabbing it on the second ring while shouting, "I'll get it!"
"Hello?" she said, knowing she sounded like she was out of breath but not really caring.
"What are you doing?"
Amanda rolled her eyes. "Lee, I'm terribly busy right now. Can you call back?" She started to hang up the phone when his irritated, "No," caught her attention. She brought the phone back to her ear.
"Lee, I'm serious." She glanced at her wrist and, in disgust, pulled the pincushion off and reached for her watch, which had been sitting on the counter.
"I'm serious, too."
"I'm sorry, but I'm already running late picking up Phillip from his field trip. I have to go." Before he could argue, she hung up the phone and hurried for the door. "He'll just have to learn to deal with it," she mumbled as she closed the door behind her.
Phillip's bus was running late. Parked in the school parking lot, surrounded by grumbling parents, Amanda had flipped on the radio with the hope that time would pass faster. 'Footloose' was playing and her hands tapped the steering wheel along with the beat. The chicken was most assuredly dry by now, but there was nothing she could do about it, and she allowed the music to carry her thoughts away.
Her heart nearly stopped when a tap on her window startled her back to reality. With one hand on her chest, she opened her eyes to see a hazel pair staring back at her.
"Oh, no," she moaned, resting her head on the steering wheel. She slowly rolled down the window. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "Someone will see you!"
Lee grinned. "Don't worry, I'm blending." He glanced around at the other parents milling around, waiting for their children's return.
"Oh, yeah," Amanda nodded seriously while taking in his blue jeans, plaid shirt, and Baltimore Orioles baseball cap. "You blend."
He rolled his eyes and crouched down next to her door. "Look, I need you tonight."
"Really," she breathed, both hands now on the wheel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of bright yellow and realized that the bus had arrived. "Make it quick. The bus is here."
"I don't have time to explain everything, but we need you to hang out at a bar and get a guy to take you back to his place."
Amanda's head whipped around to meet Lee's eyes. "What!" she croaked.
"It sounds worse than it really is," he quickly covered, patting her arm in reassurance. "Come over to my place as soon as you can get away from," he gestured to the parking lot, now filled with screaming kids, "this."
Amanda turned away from him and saw Phillip running across the parking lot. "Okay," she said, giving in as she knew he knew she would. "I'll be there as soon . . ." She turned to where Lee had been and found only an empty parking space. ". . . as I can," she sighed, shaking her head, a wry smile on her lips.
Lee paced his living room, waiting for Amanda's arrival. He hoped he'd been able to convince her to come. As he thought back, it seemed that he'd heard her agree as he had made his quick escape from the onslaught of suburbia, but he couldn't be certain. With a grumble, he reached for the phone and was about to dial her number when a soft rap at the door brought him a small measure of relief.
Through the peephole, he could see part of her head. She'd pulled her hair up in a clip, allowing small wisps to fall against her slender neck. Fearing she'd overdressed, he whipped open the door and was taken aback by what he found.
She was perfect. Her tight black jeans skimmed down her thin legs. The red sweater she'd picked out hung in an alluring fashion, but it wasn't too much. It was her eyes, though, that caught his attention. They were shadowed in a smoky gray and lined with charcoal. Her cheeks held only a whisper of blush and her lips glistened under a light sheen of gloss.
"Do I look okay?" she asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I remembered you saying something about a bar and I thought this would be appropriate."
Realizing that his appraisal could be taken as a negative, he quickly ushered her inside. "No, you look great!" His enthusiasm had eked out, and she turned around, a smile lighting her features.
"Really?"
Lee cleared his throat and crossed him arms, downplaying his previous statement. "Um, yeah, sure." He didn't know why he was covering, but it felt like the thing to do. "So, are you ready?"
"Aren't you going to tell me what I'm supposed to be doing?" Before he could answer, she took a step toward his kitchen. "And, I know this is a silly question, but do you have anything to eat here? I didn't stay long enough to have dinner at home. I certainly hope Mother bought that flimsy excuse about an emergency meeting at the 'Pet Watchers Club.' I swear one of these days she's going to catch on. She's not stupid, you know." With her head in the refrigerator, she continued. "And if we're going to bar, I can only assume that I'll be expected to drink something, and I can't very well do that on an empty stomach."
Lee had followed her to the kitchen and was nodding along with her chattering, watching as she rummaged though the sparse contents of his fridge, until he could find an opening. Finally, he placed his hand on top of hers, which was holding the door. She stopped talking and looked up at him, her eyes wide.
"We'll get something on the way, and I'll explain everything to you then, okay?" He tried to sound calm, but there was something about Amanda that always rattled him, and he wondered if he was coming off as condescending instead. She nodded, and he pulled his hand back from hers. He turned to collect his things, and she followed close behind.
"It's a good thing we're stopping somewhere," Amanda remarked on their way out the door. "I think the contents of that container of Chinese food you've got in there could qualify as a new species."
Part Three
Lee pulled the Porsche into the garage the Agency used as a motor pool. He parked in an empty space, far away from all the other cars, and killed the ignition, just as Amanda took the last gurgling sips of her small vanilla milkshake. "Okay, I've shown you a picture of McCrae . . ."
"John," she interrupted as she dug through her purse, producing a tube of lip-gloss.
"Right, John," Lee continued. He watched in wonder as she flipped down the passenger visor and applied another layer of the shiny liquid, rubbing her lips together before inspecting the rest of her face. He shook off the distraction and cleared his throat. "You're Amy Keene, and you're there to forget about your husband . . ."
Amanda turned her head, her face registering shock. "I'm cheating on my husband?"
"Amanda, you're not really married, and you're not really cheating on anyone." He smiled when she nodded in acceptance. "Okay, then, Amy, you're upset about your husband, who you think is cheating on you. When McCrae comes on to you, and we're certain he will . . ."
"What makes you so certain?"
Lee ran an agitated hand through his hair. "You're his type," he grated out.
"And what would that be?"
He took one look at her and knew if it weren't for the small confines of the car, she'd have one hand on her hip and her foot would be tapping. "You know, normal, ordinary . . ."
"Plain? Boring? Frumpish? Did you ask Francine to provide you with a list of adjectives?"
In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Lee raised a hand to stop her tirade. "No! What I meant was brunette and not overly glamorous. In other words, this was not a job for Francine, okay?"
Amanda hung her head and clasped her hands in her lap. "Sorry," she whispered.
"I'm sorry," Lee argued. "I should have made myself clear."
"Anyway, when McCrae comes on to me," Amanda looked up at him and smiled slightly, telling him all was forgiven.
Smiling in return, Lee said, "Right, when he comes on to you, let him talk you in to going back to his apartment. I'll follow you there, so you don't have to worry. When you get there, ask him to join you in another drink. Anything will do. When he's not looking, you need to slip this," Lee handed her a small vial of a clear liquid, "into his drink. It'll knock him out. When he's out, you need to find his briefcase and slip this," he handed her a small, round disk, "into the lining. It's a transmitter. We'll be able to hear everything he says while he's within ten feet of it."
Amanda nodded, tucking the vial and the transmitter into her handbag. "Then what?"
"Undress him." Off her startled look, Lee clarified. "Just take off his shoes and shirt, as well as you can. He needs to think something happened between the two of you. Write him a note thanking him for a good time, and tell him you're catching a cab back to the bar. I'll pick you up outside, and you're done."
Amanda nodded in understanding then her brow knit in concern. "What if something goes wrong?"
"The transmitter is already active," Lee said, opening his door and stepping out into the garage. He walked around the car and opened Amanda's door, holding out his hand for assistance. "If anything goes wrong -- which it won't," he stressed, "I'll be in there like this." He snapped his fingers in illustration and smiled when she smiled at him. "Now, let's get some cars."
Looking back at the Lee's car, Amanda asked, "Why aren't we taking the Porsche?"
Lee turned and, with soulful eyes, stared longingly at his pride and joy. "Bad for the cover," he explained. Pete and Mike will set us up with something more believable." Lee resumed his path toward the mechanics that ran the pool in Leatherneck's absence.
From behind, he heard Amanda say, "Well, for the love of Mike, and for Pete's sake, I certainly hope so!"
Amanda sat on the barstool, half a cold beer in her hand. The soulful sounds of 'The Police' streamed from the jukebox, and she couldn't help but smile as she sang the words to herself, "Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you." The irony wasn't lost on her as she shifted her attention from the long neck bottle and caught Lee's eyes from across the smoke filled room. He certainly was watching her.
It was nerve-wracking, waiting for John to arrive and make his move. The barstool was small and thinly padded, and she found herself shifting for a more comfortable position every few minutes. So far, the night was not what she would have defined as 'fun.' Lee even looked like he was about to give up when the door opened and their quarry walked in. Amanda painted on her best 'take me home' expression and prayed it would work. It wasn't that she wanted to impress Lee, she just wanted to show him not all housewives were frumpy and that she could vamp it up just as well as one of his playthings.
John walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. She casually glanced at him and was pleased to see he was looking her way. She met his eyes and smiled shyly. He took the beer from the bartender and made his way around to Amanda's seat. 'Show time,' she thought.
"Is this seat taken?" John McCrae wasn't hard to look at by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, if Amanda hadn't been told to pick him up, she might have tried to at least strike up a conversation with him. He was tall, almost as tall as Lee, and the dimples that appeared when he smiled bore an uncanny resemblance to her 'intelligence operative' friend. Dark brown eyes looked at her in question, and she nodded and patted the seat. He sat down and took a swig from the bottle before placing it on the bar, next to hers.
"My name's John," he said, offering her his hand. She took it and was pleased when he raised it to his lips, gallantly kissing her fingers, rather than shaking it, as she'd expected.
Amanda found her voice and gently pulled her hand away. "I'm pleased to meet you," she said. "I'm Amy."
"You look sad tonight, Amy. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Amanda blanched at the obvious pick-up line but, remembering her cover, shook her head and averted her eyes.
"Oh, you don't want to hear about my troubles," she sighed.
"Try me."
"It's been a hard day," she began. "I told my husband to pack his things and leave today. That louse was cheating on me, I just know it, and I couldn't stand it anymore." She looked at John and added a quaver to her voice. "I mean, am I that unattractive that he has to go to someone else?"
"Quite the contrary," John said, placing a finger under Amanda's chin. He tilted her head up until her eyes met his. "I think you're quite attractive -- beautiful, even." Amanda enjoyed the compliment in spite of herself and wondered if Lee was listening in through the transmitter in her purse. Part of her was nervous and poised to run, but the other part of her, the stronger part, was dying to do a good job.
"You're just saying that," Amanda replied, allowing a demure smile to form on her lips. "Besides, you probably wouldn't think as highly of me if you knew why I was here."
"And why is that?"
"I'm a little embarrassed to even mention it but, well . . . revenge," she stated, matter-of-factly. "I decided today that what was good for the gander was just as good for the goose."
"Um-hmmm," John nodded, obviously enjoying where this conversation was going.
Amanda turned on her bedroom eyes and winked at John. "So, are you game?"
John grinned, and licked his lips lasciviously. "Amy, my dear, I'm always available to help out a damsel in distress."
"Then, what are we waiting for? Your place or mine?" Amanda winked and took a long drink from her bottle.
"I don't live too far from here," John suggested.
Amanda hopped off the stool and took John by the hand. "Perfect, let's go."
The short drive to John's house was long enough to get Amanda's nerves jumping. She had glanced in the passenger-side mirror and knew, without a doubt, that Lee was behind them somewhere, even if she couldn't actually see him. Still, this wasn't anything like her, and she was beginning to doubt if she could pull it off.
"Almost there," John said, placing a hand on Amanda's knee. She smiled at him and fiddled with the strap of her purse. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" he asked.
Amanda looked at him, startled. "Oh! No! Not at all!" With that, she leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. As she settled back into her seat, he pulled off the road, into a driveway.
"We're here." He stepped out and started to walk toward the house.
When Amanda realized that he wasn't going to open her door for her, she sighed and stepped out into the night. 'Funny,' she thought, 'how certain things become second nature so quickly.' With a quickened pace, she caught up to him at the front door and followed him inside.
As soon as the door was closed, he turned to her and pulled her into an embrace. Amanda counted to ten in her head while he kissed her, thinking of anything but what she was actually doing. 'It's for my country,' she repeated over and over, after the mental counting failed to keep her from panicking.
His lips broke contact, and he took a step away from her, leading her by the hand into what she assumed was his living room. As she walked, she surveyed her surroundings, pleased to discover his briefcase leaning against the coffee table.
"John," she said, and he stopped and turned. "Why don't we have another drink? It'll help me loosen up." Amanda ran her hands up John's lapel and leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
"Sure," he said. "Is another beer okay?"
"Perfect," Amanda purred, relieved when he turned and walked into the kitchen. Quickly, she opened her purse and tucked the vial into the pocket of her jeans.
"Here we go," John said as he reentered the living room. He handed her an opened bottle of beer and held his up for a toast. "To revenge." He winked as they clinked bottles and Amanda took a sip. John turned away to sit on the couch and Amanda used it as her opening. Quickly, she tipped the bottle and let some of the beer spill onto the rug.
"Oh, my gosh!" she moaned. John turned just as she was kneeling down to inspect the damage. "I've spilled a little. Do you have any napkins or a towel?"
John placed his bottle on the coffee table and hurried to the kitchen, his annoyance obvious. Amanda pulled the vial from her pocket, pulled out the stopper and quickly poured the liquid into John's drink, all while keeping up her end of the conversation. "I'm so sorry, John. I hope that it's not an expensive rug. I'll pay for it if you need to have it cleaned. I can't believe I was so clumsy. Leave it to me to be so uncoordinated." She shoved the empty vial back into her pocket and stepped back, her beer in hand, as John returned from the kitchen with a hand towel.
"Don't worry about it," he assured her as he mopped up the spill. "It was hardly a drop." He tossed the damp towel over the back of the couch. "Now, where were we?"
"I believe we were drinking to revenge," Amanda reminded him, taking a long draught of her beer. John smiled and picked up his bottle, following suit. With a sigh, he finished the contents of the bottle and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. Amanda stepped around the table and sat next to him, inwardly flinching when he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. Lee hadn't told her how long the drug would take to take effect, and she was wondering how much further she would have to go.
Never had Amanda been more impressed and relieved in her life than when she heard the distinctive sounds of snoring coming from John McCrae.
Quickly, she disentangled herself from his half embrace and pulled the transmitter out of her purse. She held it to her lips and said, "He's out," before opening his briefcase and pushing it into the lining.
Now came the hard part. Knowing she didn't have to be too careful made it a little easier, but she was still embarrassed about having to undress the man. She pulled off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband. Satisfied that he was disheveled enough, she scribbled a note and collected her things.
As she closed the door behind her, Lee pulled up to the front of the house in the taxicab he'd borrowed from the motor pool. She climbed in the back seat and breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank goodness that's over."
"What?" Lee shouted, for no apparent reason.
Amanda scooted forward and leaned on the back of the front seat. "I said, 'thank goodness that's over'," she repeated. "Why are you shouting?"
"Sorry," Lee replied, his voice still louder than usual. "You see, someone thought it would be wise to speak, at close range I might add, into a transmitter with a ten foot radius. I'll let you know when the ringing stops."
Amanda glanced at the small earpiece that was hanging from his right ear and mouthed a silent, "Oh." She quickly slid back into her seat, trying to contain the nervous fit of laughter that threatened to escape, taking deep breaths as Lee drove her back to the bar and her loaner car. She felt as if she'd done a good job but, knowing Lee, he might never tell her if her efforts had had any bearing on his assignment.
Part Four
Three days later, Lee looked up from his desk in the front corner of the Bullpen to see Billy waving. He automatically glanced over his shoulder to see if Billy was motioning to him, then felt like a fool when he remembered that there was nothing behind him but wall. Billy was still waving to him, so he stood and crossed the office, quickly joining his superior.
"Close the door, Lee," Billy instructed as soon as Lee had cleared the doorway. "We've just got some great news."
Lee shut the door and took a seat across from Billy. "Yeah?"
"The transmitter Mrs. King planted is working like a charm. We picked up a conversation this morning that implicates McCrae not only in the 'Project Guiding Light' deal, but also in two other incidents from three years ago. And, it looks like this is just the tip of the iceberg." Billy was still standing, rubbing his hands together in a conspiratorial manner.
"So, we go get him, right?" It seemed like the natural course of action, but from Billy's look, Lee knew there was something more interesting in the works for John McCrae.
"I've had Psych take a look at McCrae's profile. They agree that he will very likely fold and turn around to work for us." Billy picked up a file and flipped it open, holding up a page while scanning the sheet underneath. "His personality type indicates that he'll go along with anything to avoid a confrontation. We're going to use this to our advantage."
Lee smiled and steepled his fingers in front of his lips. "It'll have to look natural. It stands to reason that he's probably being monitored, even if this isn't his first foray into the secrets trade."
Billy beamed and leaned against the front of his desk. "That's why we're going to call Mrs. King again." Lee started to shake his head in protest, but Billy held up a hand, silencing him before he could begin. "As far as he remembers, and we are certain of this from conversations we've picked up through the transmitter, he thinks he had a great time with Amy Keene, and he's been looking for her at the bar for the past three nights. If Amanda goes back, he'll certainly pick her up."
"But how are we going to get in there to talk to him?" Lee instinctively rubbed his temple, knowing that before this planning session was over, he'd have one whopper of a headache.
"Simple," Billy assured him as he began to lay out the plan.
Amanda stood in the kitchen, solemnly drying the last of the dinner dishes. She hadn't heard from Lee since he'd driven her back to his apartment the night of the 'seduction' of John McCrae, and she was beginning to wonder if he was still mad at her about his ear. Under normal circumstances -- and she had to laugh at the thought of any circumstance involving Lee Stetson being categorized as normal -- Lee would have stopped by already to at least let her know that everything was okay, even if he couldn't give her any details. The fact that he hadn't done so yet made her worry.
She had almost made up her mind to call him and face the imagined music when he appeared from under the windowsill. It startled her so that she nearly dropped the plate she'd been absentmindedly drying. With a hiss and a jerk of her head, she acknowledged him and indicated that she'd join him shortly.
The boys were upstairs, finishing their homework, and her mother had drawn a bath, stating that she needed to soak after enjoying a rare warm day in the garden, so Amanda was able to step outside without having to make up excuses. She looked around and found Lee waiting for her by the gate.
"I'm gonna have a heart attack one of these days," she whispered as she drew near. "Do you have to be so . . ."
"Stealthy?" he suggested, squaring his shoulders as if he were proud of his accomplishment.
Amanda rolled her eyes and smirked. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of 'sneaky.' But if you prefer 'stealthy' . . ." She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and maintained a straight face. Lee opened his mouth to retort, but closed it just as quickly, letting out a long breath instead.
"Are you busy this evening?" he asked, peeking over her shoulder at the illuminated kitchen window.
"Nope." Amanda glanced over her shoulder, wondering if he'd seen someone come from upstairs. Satisfied that everyone was still busy inside, she turned back to him. "Why?"
"We need you to meet with John McCrae again," Lee explained. As her eyes widened, Lee continued, placing a hand on her arm. "The bug worked great, and we think we may be able to turn him, so we can find out who he's working for and start feeding them false information, as well as finding out who else they might be using to gather their information."
Amanda's mouth dropped open. "John was spying?" she asked, her voice cracking as she whispered. "You didn't tell me he was a spy. Actually, you didn't tell me anything. For all I know, he could be your bookie or something like that."
Lee shook his head. "He's not my bookie, and he's not a spy, either. He's selling information to the Russians about a military project his department has been developing, and it's not the first time he's done it."
Amanda nodded, wondering how this didn't qualify John for spy-hood, but she wasn't going to ask. "What do you need me to do now?"
"McCrae's been talking about you . . ."
"Really? How?" She couldn't help the smile that forced its way to her lips.
Lee sighed. "This is going to take a while, I can tell." He glanced over her shoulder again and said, "Look, get dressed up again, like you did last time, and come over to my place. I'll explain everything there, okay?"
Amanda nodded and turned to hurry back to the house. From behind, she heard Lee whisper loudly, "And wear your hair up, too." She nodded without turning around and smiled, wondering if it was John or Lee that liked her hair like that.
Lee glanced at Amanda from across the bar. This time, he was a little more inconspicuous than before, taking care not to be seen by McCrae or anyone else that might connect him to Amanda. She was seated in the same place that she had been when she'd first picked up McCrae and looked just as stunning. It never ceased to amaze Lee just how pretty Amanda could be when she wanted to. Not that she wasn't pretty on a daily basis, she just looked less . . . ordinary . . . tonight.
After filling her in on the plan while they drove from his apartment to the motor pool, he'd set her up in the same car she'd driven earlier, but this time followed her in the Porsche. The only trick, the only part of the plan that could backfire, was that Amanda had to convince John to go back to her place.
'Her place' was an Agency owned apartment a half mile from the bar in the opposite direction of McCrae's house. Lee had explained to Amanda where it was located, had given her the key, emphasized the importance of having her bring him 'home' instead of the other way around, and had then followed her as she made a point of driving past the apartment on her way to the bar to familiarize herself with its location.
Amanda reached into her purse and pulled out a compact, checking her makeup, before replacing it and taking a sip of her beer. She was beginning to fidget, and Lee could tell she was getting nervous. McCrae hadn't arrived yet, which was unusual according to the Agency's informant. As he watched, she glanced around the bar, making brief eye contact with him. Apparently that was all she needed in the way of assurance. She became visibly less agitated and seemed to relax on the spot.
Then, the door opened and McCrae walked in. Lee tensed, ready for the action to finally begin. Just as he had previously, McCrae walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. The only difference was the way his face lit up when he spotted Amanda. She was facing away from him, letting him make the first move, and Lee's stomach lurched at the way McCrae licked his lips while approaching her.
He touched her on the shoulder and she turned, startled. They laughed and John leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. There were a few more minutes of small talk and John rubbing his hand up and down Amanda's arms. The 'suggestion' was made and Lee watched as Amanda countered with an invitation to her apartment. He held his breath, hoping that it would go over easy and released it in relief when John nodded his acceptance.
John took Amanda by the elbow as she slid of the stool and they walked, arm-in-arm, to the door. She glanced behind, quickly making eye contact with Lee once more, then she was gone. Lee checked his watch, counting down the five minutes he was supposed to wait before following. At four minutes and thirty seconds, he was gunning the Porsche's engine to life and pulling out onto the highway.
Amanda could feel John's breath on her neck as she struggled with the key in the lock. She knew Lee would be to her rescue within minutes but it still unnerved her that this man expected her to fall in to bed with him. She wondered how she would stall if Lee were delayed. Just how far did the Agency expect her to go, if there was a need? A chill struck her from head to toe as the key disengaged the lock and the apartment door opened wide.
Knowing she had to tread carefully -- after all, she'd never been in this apartment that was supposed to belong to her -- Amanda entered slowly and asked, "Would you like something to drink? I can see what I have in the fridge."
John eyed her up and down, reminding her of her boys the week before Christmas, when they would inspect the packages and try to imagine what was underneath the wrapping. Her thrill at knowing John had found her attractive was immediately erased at his mental undressing. "A drink would be great," he said, pursing his lips for a kiss.
Amanda quickly turned and walked toward the kitchen, thanking the Agency for having the foresight to have a small and easily navigable apartment available for just such an occasion. "Make yourself comfortable," she offered as she opened the refrigerator door. It was sparsely stocked, so Amanda had to make due with another beer or a can of soda. She pulled out two beers and fumbled through drawers looking for a bottle opener.
"Amy," John called from the living room. "Someone just pulled up outside."
Hopeful that it was Lee, Amanda carried the opened bottles to the couch and handed one to John. "It's probably the neighbor," she said, sitting next to him. Struggling to avert his attention from the door, she turned his face to hers with her finger. "So, John, what is it that you do?"
He smiled and relaxed, but before he could get out a word, the doorknob rattled. Too late, Amanda realized that John had locked the door behind them. The plan was for Lee to pop in and surprise John, giving him no time to react, and then confront him about his Russian contacts. The locked door had effectively dissolved the element of surprise.
"Who's that?" John asked, eyes wide, as he scooted a chaste distance away from Amanda.
Thinking on her feet, Amanda placed the bottle on the coffee table and walked to the door. She peeked through the peephole and sighed deeply. "It's my husband," she explained, turning to see the horrified expression on John's face. "We're separated," she clarified, "remember? He's probably just stopping by to pick something up."
Her explanation did nothing to relieve the terror in John's eyes, but she wasn't going to stay alone with him in that room for a moment longer. She unlocked the door and swung it open, immediately laying into Lee. "Don't you know how to knock? When I kicked you out it was for good, you know. You can't just keep coming by whenever you want to pick up this and borrow that." As she rambled, she stepped back and allowed a bewildered Lee to enter. "Just get what you came for and get out, okay? I'm trying to entertain."
Lee nodded and stepped around her, walking toward what she assumed was the bedroom, nodding at her 'guest' along the way. Before he reached the hallway, he stopped and turned, pointing at a still shocked John. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
John shook his head. "I don't think so," he said, trying to sound calm but not succeeding. "I know I don't know you from anywhere."
Lee was still pointing, squinting his eyes as if he were deep in thought. Then, his eyes popped open and he snapped his fingers. "You're John McCrae, aren't you?"
"Y - yes." John rose to his feet and took a tentative step toward the door. Amanda tensed as he neared her.
"You know," Lee said taking a step back into the living room. "I've heard some great things about you, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in working for my employer."
"I don't know what you're talking about," John hedged. "I don't need a job."
"Oh, but I think you'll want to hear me out on this." Lee took another step closer while Amanda pressed herself against the wall just inside the door. John had a deer-in-the-headlights look, and Lee seemed wound as tight as a coil. "See, my employer knows you're making deals with certain iron-curtain countries and would like to make a deal with you -- maybe keep you out of prison for treason and espionage?"
This was the part where Lee had told Amanda that John would fold and agree to do anything to stay out of jail. To her surprise, and also to Lee's she was sure, John did the exact opposite. Lunging, he grabbed Amanda by the arm and threw the front door open. Before Lee could follow, John ran to the Porsche and shoved Amanda in the passenger seat, climbing over her to the driver's seat.
Amanda groaned when John easily turned the key in the ignition and Lee's car roared to life. If she made it through this, she decided, she was going to have a serious talk with him about leaving the top down and the keys in the ignition. John peeled out of the parking lot and cut across the traffic. "Why didn't you tell me your husband was a spook?" he demanded.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Amanda replied, as she struggled for the seatbelt.
"Oh, please," John bit back. "You can't tell me you didn't know." As he drove, he fumbled under the seat, pleased when he came out with Lee's spare pistol. "This could come in handy."
A new wave of fear washed through Amanda. Before, it was just his erratic driving that had frightened her. Now, he was armed and she was, she supposed, his hostage. 'Perfect,' she thought. 'I'll have to talk to Lee about this, too. I really need some training.'
Part Five
Lee found Amanda's keys and jumped into the motor pool rent-a-wreck, tearing off after John and Amanda. His thoughts alternated between how very wrong the Psych department had been and how ticked off he was that that scum had taken his car. He could already hear Amanda's voice lecturing him about leaving the keys in the ignition, and he hated to admit she was right. It was then that it registered that McCrae had Amanda, too. With renewed determination, he sped off into the night, following the sound of his beloved car.
John glanced in the rearview mirror. "Looks like your husband is trying to follow us in your car. Hah!"
The pistol lay across his lap, and Amanda alternated between watching it and the road. This wasn't turning out like it was supposed to, and she was struggling to formulate a plan. John's erratic driving wasn't helping.
"He'll never catch us in that old wreck," John crowed as the distance between the sports car and the old sedan increased. As if on command, the Porsche sputtered and lurched. "Damn!" John swore through clenched teeth, frantically pushing the clutch. Amanda couldn't help but smile. Someone was looking out for her. That much was certain.
The car continued to slow as the engine completely died. Coasting, John pulled in to a grocery store parking lot. He shoved open the door, Amanda flinching as he did so, hoping that Lee couldn't see the way this man was treating his car. In a shot, he had jerked open the passenger door and dragged Amanda to her feet, pulling her toward the glass fronted store, muttering under his breath the whole way.
They reached the front door, which, with a tug from John's gun hand, was confirmed locked. He released Amanda's arm and pointed the gun at her. "Don't move," he commanded and Amanda raised her hands, indicating that she had no intention of moving. John nodded and looked around. Five feet away was a cement parking block, the corner broken away. He picked up the seven-inch long loose slab and struggled to carry it over to the door. With a heave, he threw the cement through the glass, easily shattering it. He kicked out the remnants and, with a rough shove, pushed Amanda through the opening.
Lee drove along the highway at top speed, cursing his luck. "Next time," he told himself, "Make sure the cover vehicle has more than two cylinders." He was about to give up and call in an A.P.B. on his own car when he spied it, doors wide open, in a deserted grocery store parking lot.
"If there's one scratch," he muttered as he pulled in along side it. He jumped out and checked the interior, finding the keys still in the ignition. He pulled them out and, as an afterthought, felt under the driver's seat. "Damn!" His spare was gone. Lee looked around, trying to figure out where McCrae could have run off to, dragging Amanda along with him, when he spotted the shattered front door of the grocery store.
Pulling his pistol out of his shoulder holster, he cautiously walked up to the door, and then softly crunched through the glass, to enter the darkened building. He cursed his luck. Not only would there be a storeroom and several cold storage areas, there were also fifteen aisles to search. He'd given chase without calling for backup for fear that he'd lose them if he waited too long, so he was on his own. McCrae was a loose cannon, despite what his 'personality' had led the Psych department to believe, and there was no telling what he'd do if cornered. Lee only hoped that Amanda would keep a level head.
Gun at the ready, Lee slowly walked the length of the front of the store, peeking down each aisle before stepping to the next one. He'd passed the cereal aisle and canned goods and was inching up on housewares when he heard Amanda's nervous voice.
"Look, John, it's pointless to keep me here. I mean, I'm nothing to Lee. If I'm killed in the crossfire, that's so much the better for him. Then he doesn't have to deal with a messy divorce. Besides, what's to say that he hasn't called in the cavalry? If you're right, and he is a spy, they'd probably kill me just to keep me quiet. Isn't that what they do? Or is that the Mafia? I can never keep these things straight."
"Will you shut up?"
Lee had to chuckle. Amanda was doing what Amanda did best -- rattling the opposition. He leaned in and took a quick glance around the corner. Amanda didn't look any worse for the situation, and John was pacing back and forth, Lee's spare pistol held uneasily in his hand. Amanda was backed against the shelves, hands clasped behind her back.
"All I'm saying is, what makes you think they won't kill you?" she asked as John paced away from her.
Lee watched, noticing movement behind Amanda's back. She was up to something. He held still and prepared himself for his opportunity.
"I'm trying to think," John bellowed, raising his hands to his ears. His back was still to Amanda, and Lee watched in fascination as Amanda raised her arm high above her head and let something drop. A loud pop echoed through the empty aisle, and Amanda screamed. John whirled around in time to see her crumple to the ground, clutching her chest.
"I've been shot," she strangled out before passing out cold.
Lee leapt into action, rounding the corner with his gun leveled squarely at John's head. "Drop it McCrae, or I'll pop you, too."
John instantly raised his hands over his head and dropped the gun, which, to his surprise, was snatched up by a not so dead Amanda. She waved at Lee while gingerly pointing the gun at John. "I told you he'd shoot, didn't I?" she asked sweetly, brushing away the shattered remnants of a 60 watt light bulb, while Lee made his way down the aisle toward them.
Tag
Lee and Amanda walked out of the Bullpen toward the elevator. Amanda was beaming, having just received high praise from Mr. Melrose for her quick thinking. Lee hadn't said much, and she was wondering just how long it would take before he made some off-hand comment about her work.
"So, what's going to happen with John?" she asked as they walked down the hallway.
"He'll either cooperate and get a light sentence or he'll be tried for espionage and be in a federal prison for the rest of his life. It's really up to him. Unfortunately, we weren't able to pull off 'Plan A,' so we'll have to work harder at cracking the entire ring."
"Oh." They stopped in front of the elevator. "John locked the door behind us. I should have checked."
Amanda's apology was shrugged off. "Don't worry about it," he said, patting her on the arm. "It could have happened to anyone. 'Project Guiding Light' is safe. That's all that really matters."
"'Guiding Light'?" Amanda laughed. "That's one of Mother's soap-operas! You'd think the people who think up these things would come up with something more original."
Lee shrugged. "Well, we do what we can. By the way, how did you know I was in the grocery store?" he asked, as he pressed the call button.
Amanda leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her. "John was too far gone to notice, but I heard you crunching through the glass when you came in."
Lee nodded and clasped his hands behind him, rocking on his heels. "And the light bulb?" he asked, one eyebrow raised and a smile tugging at his lips.
Straightening, Amanda shrugged. "Jamie was helping me clean out the garage a couple of weeks ago, and he'd climbed up on top of a step ladder to get a box down from a shelf. I wasn't there when he was up on the ladder, or I would have chewed him out. I mean, he's just too little, still, to be climbing around in the garage like that." Amanda paused and glanced up to catch Lee's amused grin. "Anyway, there must have been a loose light bulb on top of the box because when I walked back in the garage, the first thing I saw was Jamie up on this ladder then I heard this pop. I almost had a heart attack, because it sounded so much like a gunshot. Now, a year ago, I wouldn't have known what a real gunshot sounded like but, thanks to you, now I do, and that light bulb hitting the cement and breaking and the way it echoed in the garage, well, it sounded close enough to a gunshot to have me worried. Naturally, when John and I ended up on the housewares aisle, that was the first thing I thought of. I figured if he was rattled enough, it would distract him enough to give you a chance to get him"
Lee's smile grew broader. "Naturally," he agreed.
"Of course, if it wasn't for your car breaking down when it did, who knows where we would have ended up." The elevator door slid open, and Amanda stepped inside while Lee held one hand on the door to keep it from sliding shut. "You really ought to think about getting a more reliable car."
Lee stiffened in defense of his pride and joy. "I love that car," he said, "and I'm not going to get rid of it."
Amanda nodded in understanding. "Well, then you really should think about making sure you don't leave the keys behind anymore." With that, she pulled his car keys out of her pocket and tossed them through the closing elevator doors into Lee's waiting hands.
The End