Note: A character is introduced, whose surname is Yun. Yun is pronounced 'Yoon.' Also, another special thanks to willwrite4fics for betaing and offering commentary on the chapter draft.

Sleepers

Chapter 2: The Bearer of Bad Tidings

Washington D.C.

"Let's cut straight to the chase, shall we?"

General Hawk leaned slightly forward to eye his current target. His target, Matthew Harris, was the director of the CIA's clandestine service, as well as a former associate of a certain, missing general. Lean and fit, the former Naval intelligence officer's brown hair was greying at the temples. There was a hard expression on his face when he answered Hawk.

"I don't know where General Malthus is, Abernathy."

Hawk exchanged glances with General Crowther before he refocused his attention on the man in front of them. While the Joes were busy trying to determine if Cobra was behind the escape, Clayton Abernathy had the unfortunate displeasure of being in Washington D.C. again…with General Crowther, no less. He and Crowther were currently questioning a few individuals who had most closely been associated with Malthus in the past.

The GI Joe general shifted slightly in his seat. He fixed one of his nonsensical stares on the CIA director. Harris stared back at him. However, Hawk detected a slight twinge in the man's eyes. Harris soon looked away.

"I haven't had any contact with him since his court martial," Matthew Harris added. "And I sure as hell don't know what Cobra wants with him." The man paused a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Do you even know that it was Cobra?"

"We have good reason to think so," General Crowther told the man. It had been two days since the head of the Jugglers had contacted Hawk about Malthus's escape. Two days since Hawk had been forced to work with the oily bastard, while worrying about the other oily bastard that was on the loose.

What was it his mother always said? "When it rains, it pours."

Sometimes there was hail and a lightning storm too. When he was damn unlucky, he got a tornado.

"Like what?" Harris asked. The CIA director didn't seem very convinced, especially since there wasn't any hard evidence yet to link the escape to Cobra. At best, there was circumstantial evidence, such as the type of weaponry used by the highly trained, but nondescript, masked men who had managed to hold off trained Army correctional officers, MPs, as well as Marine Corps and Air Force personnel. That same weaponry was the kind often favored by Crimson Guardsmen.

Lady Jaye and Chuckles also suspected that there must have been help from the inside. If the Crimson Guard was involved, they probably had a man at Fort Leavenworth. Malthus possibly had a few loyal people there too.

"Enough to make us at least suspect Cobra," Hawk told him. Harris had worked in intelligence for years. The man had to at least consider that Cobra was a likely suspect based on what evidence they had. After some probing, the CIA director finally grunted slightly in resignation. However, he still seemed uncertain.

"Could have been Cobra, could have been someone else," Harris drawled, his Kentucky accent drifting through. "Cobra's one of the top players in the weapons black market."

Hawk conceded the point. However, he still wasn't convinced that his hunch was wrong. He and Crowther continued to question Harris for nearly twenty more minutes. When it became apparent that they were just going in circles, a weary Clayton Abernathy finally dismissed the man.

The next two hours was spent grilling a man by the name of Armen Remzi from the Defense Intelligence Agency. Hawk and Crowther received similar results. That was now two former Malthus cronies who had so far claimed complete innocence and ignorance regarding the disgraced general's whereabouts.

That left one more man for the day.

A tall man of Asian descent walked into the room. In stark contrast to the previous men, this one had a friendly smile on his face. Hawk refused to let himself relax because of it. In his rather extensive experience with politicians and intelligence operatives, a disarming smile was often a more useful weapon that a glare.

The man continued to exude a friendly air as he sat down. Hawk studied him over the edge of his hands. This particular crony was Theodore Bae Yun, an Army officer who had recently been promoted to colonel. He had graduated second in his class from West Point.

"First of all, I'd like to congratulate you on your promotion," Hawk said politely. Crowther offered similar congratulatory praise. The third occupant of the room politely accepted the compliments with a lopsided grin.

"Thank you, sir," Yun replied. "Also, it's a huge honor to finally meet you. I know you and Malthus didn't exactly 'get along', but…" The man continued to chatter on.

It seemed that he had a talker and a possible brownnoser on his hands. Hawk could deal with that, perhaps even use it to his advantage. Again, however, he forced himself not to be lulled into a false sense of security. Talking could be used as a diversionary tactic. Often, it was the talkers you had to be careful of, as they were the ones that usually tried to trip you up.

"…As you probably know, my parents emigrated from South Korea. I was their first kid born on American soil. They were so proud that they wanted to give me a strong 'American' name, so they named me after Theodore Roosevelt." The man's chest practically puffed out with pride. Hawk very deliberately didn't roll his eyes. Crowther, however, wasn't so self-disciplined…or he didn't care if Yun saw it.

"We're not here to talk about your name," Crowther said sharply. "You know what we want." Yun's smile slipped slightly. It was up again a moment later. The newly promoted colonel casually sat at attention in his chair. He was much more comfortable with the questioning so far than his previous two associates.

"I exchanged a few letters with General Malthus while he was in prison, but that was it," Yun admitted. "I still have the letters from him if you wish to look at them. I'm afraid I have nothing else to offer you, as I don't know where he might be at or why he was busted out."

That was all Hawk and Crowther got out of him. Yun had apparently had the foresight to bring the letters with him. After he was dismissed, the two generals read through the letters, but found nothing of significance. Clayton secured the letters anyway, figuring that he'd have Lady Jaye and Chuckles examine them later.

"That went well," Crowther grumbled. "Of course they all deny knowing anything, the little weasels. And did you find Yun damn annoying too?" Hawk very tactfully didn't point out that Crowther himself was a weasel and that he would deny having any dirt on his hands. Clayton Abernathy was almost positive that the Juggler had mud on his hands, as well as blood. However, he said none of these.

"So…what now?" Crowther asked. "There are a few more people we can question, but I doubt we'll get a different answer."

"I should check with my people," Hawk replied. "And see what they've found from their end."

"Hmph…I hope they've had better luck than us."


Lady Jaye frowned as she read through file after file of Intel. Whoever had stormed Fort Leavenworth was good. Not only had the shock troops been well trained and well-armed, but the operation itself was ingenious. The layout of the military prison, its security codes, guard shifts, positions of personnel, everything…they must have known it all to pull this off.

"How goes it?" Flint asked her. Her lover sat down next to her at the table, looking slightly fatigued. The Joes had been running themselves ragged the last couple of days over the Malthus affair. It didn't help that situations were also currently brewing in Sierra Muerte and the Congo.

"It appears that a few of them posed as military personnel," Lady Jaye replied. The group, codenamed 'Oz' until Cobra's involvement was substantiated, had taken out most of the security cameras. However, the security system's backup support had managed to get a few shots of the impersonators.

"Look at this," she said, moving two photos closer to the warrant officer. Tech had magnified and sharpened the impersonators' faces. There were two different photos, taken in two different locations and of three different men. "If you look past the fact that the hair color is different, one is wearing glasses, and the third has facial hair…they all have the same facial structure. Mainframe's already run it through the facial imaging program. Perfect matches."

"The Crimson Guard," Flint sighed. "Have we found anything else?"

"Psyche Out's going through the profiles of everyone on duty at the prison that day," she replied. "And he's also going through the files of Malthus's associates. I told him to have a report ready by 0900 tomorrow."

"That's all we can do for the moment," the warrant officer told her. He looked at his watch a moment before standing up. Bones popped when he stretched out his stiff arms. Flint looked around before bending down to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "I've got to go. Problems in Sierra Muerte and all that. We're sending an extraction team now for them."

"Is Duke covering the Congo problem?" she asked.

Lady Jaye received a nod of acknowledgment. The warrant officer left her and returned to the command and control center to make sure some Joes came back home alive. Alison Hart-Burnett whispered a short prayer before returning to her work.


That night.

A fist knocked loudly on his door. Hawk sat up in his bed and looked at the clock. It was barely 2100, but he was exhausted. The fist knocked again. This time, Gung Ho's voice drifted through the door and announced that he had a visitor. Clayton Abernathy stood up and quickly buttoned on a shirt.

When the door opened, he was surprised to see Theodore Yun standing behind Gung Ho, who had been standing guard at his door.

"Sir," the Marine saluted. "Colonel Yun is here to see you." Hawk hid his surprise at the unexpected visit. He stepped aside and allowed Yun to step inside. Clayton dismissed the Marine, even though Gung Ho seemed half convinced that he should be at his general's side.

Hawk sat on the edge of his bed and offered his surprise visitor the only chair in his hotel room. The colonel hesitated slightly before sitting down and looking at him.

"Sir…I lied before. I didn't tell you everything," Yun told him. Hawk didn't say anything while he waited for the man to continue. The other man hesitated a long moment before going on awkwardly.

"I want you to understand…I had respected Malthus," Theodore Yun continued. "He was my superior officer. When I worked for him…I thought I was doing my patriotic duty. Now…" He made a helpless gesture. "I'm not so sure."

"Why come to me now?" General Hawk finally asked quietly. "And why me instead of Crowther?"

"With all due respect sir…I don't trust General Crowther."

Well, at least they were in agreement about one thing.

"During General Malthus's court martial," Yun continued. "Not…everything was uncovered. He was involved in many things, things as far as I know, are still operational. That may be what Cobra, or whoever it was, wants."

Hawk leaned forward slightly, growing more interested. He'd suspected that Malthus had been involved in more than they knew. However, he was still somewhat suspicious as to why Yun was coming forward now.

"Things like what?" the general probed. Yun looked distinctly uncomfortably, which was understandable. The man risked a court martial for having held back important information during Malthus's hearing, as well as probable involvement in some of the Juggler's operations.

"Do you remember that military coupe in Haiti in '91, when the Haitian army overthrew their president?" Yun asked. "Malthus was involved with that. He's also on a first name basis with the head of the Tijuana Cartel."

"And you thought you were doing your 'patriotic duty' by aiding him?" Hawk asked coldly. Even though he was pleased about the information, he wasn't about to completely let Yun off the hook. Yun, however, at least had the courtesy to wince slightly at the rebuke.

"I suppose I deserved that," Yun mumbled. He muttered something in Korean before regaining his composure a moment later. "However, that's an argument for a different time. I…I don't know everything Malthus was involved in…but the sleeper program is one of the things I'm aware of."

Hawk listened with rapt attention while his informant outlined the basics of the program, which had apparently been known as "Project Odysseus," as a reference to the mythical Trojan horse. It seemed to involve severe mental conditioning of "recruits", before those said recruits were sent off to staff various key government, military, and business positions.

"Were you involved in this?" Hawk finally asked carefully. Theodore Yun shook his head.

"No," he replied. "Malthus kept me out of it mostly. I only know minor details and can't even be sure who was all involved. They used codenames to prevent their actual identities from becoming known, in case news of the program was ever leaked."

"And Remzi and Harris?" Hawk asked, referring to the two other men he'd questioned earlier that day. Both Armen Remzi and Matthew Harris had been very tight lipped concerning Malthus. Yun sighed before answering.

"I don't know. They were in as deep as me, but we weren't always aware of what the other was doing. Malthus preferred it that way."

Hawk thought a moment before responding.

"Thank you for your honesty, Theodore," he replied. "We will have to investigate your claims first, but you seem to be telling the truth. We'll look into it further." Hawk stood up. The other man took that as his cue that their chat was over. Yun stood up and tucked his hat underneath his arm.

"I'll do anything I can to help," the man replied. "I've got some things to answer for…things that could stain my military record. If I can do anything to wipe some of that away, I will."

"Thank you," Hawk told him. Yun nodded at him. The man leaned forward to grasp the door knob and paused. His hand hovered over it a moment before he pulled it back. The smaller man turned his head to look at him once more.

"Sir…Malthus had his sleepers infiltrate a lot of places. Seeing as he didn't trust you, he may have placed one on the Joe team. If you look into this more deeply, you should probably be careful of that."

The colonel bid him good night and exited the hotel room. Gung Ho stood at rapt attention while Yun walked past him. The Marine glanced at Hawk before looking away. Hawk wasn't sure if he had heard any of their conversation. His Joes knew better to eavesdrop, but sometimes voices carried, especially to curious and suspicious ears.

Possible sleepers on his Joe team…

Hawk felt a deep chill crawl up his back. He shook it off and went back inside his room. For the next hour or so, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall. Crowther…he had been associated with Malthus in the past too. He deserved questioning as much as Yun and the other two men did. For all Clayton knew, the man had been aware of the sleeper program.

Fuming now, Hawk threw on the rest of his clothing. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. In moments, he, Gung Ho, and Roadblock were on their way to Crowther's house. The general didn't care if the son of a bitch was asleep now or not. They were going to have a talk.


Crowther was waiting for them when they pulled into his drive. The older man looked distinctly displeased that Hawk had decided to pay him a late night visit. As if to prove his displeasure, the general was still dressed in his night clothes and was wearing a richly colored bathrobe over his garments. Gung Ho and Roadblock waited in the foyer of the house with Crowther's own guards while he and Hawk headed towards a back room.

Hawk immediately rounded on the man. He told him about Yun's visit and ended with the new information about the sleeper program. There may have been a few veiled reminders that Crowther himself had worked with Malthus in the past.

"I've heard rumors of the program," Crowther finally admitted flatly. "But I was never sure that it really existed."

"Is it so really hard to believe?" Hawk asked. "Cobra has brainwashed its own agents before, including several of my men."

"Cobra, Abernathy, not Malthus," the other man reminded him. "And what call do you have to come barging over here in the middle of the night? Couldn't this have waited until the morning?" Hawk leveled a disbelieving stare at the other general.

"You honestly expect me to believe that you only 'heard' about this and thought it was a rumor?" Clayton pointed out bluntly. "You don't just 'hear' about things like this, Crowther. What do you know?"

Crowther's face darkened. The man silently chewed on his lip a moment before looking away, unable to meet Hawk's gaze. He stepped away from Clayton. There was a faint sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. Crowther seemed to realize it and turned around to face Hawk again in an attempt to hide his discomfort.

"One…of my staff turned out to be a sleeper," the Juggler finally admitted. "My former aide-de-camp, to be exact. One of my body guards caught him stealing some of my files. My phone lines were tapped too."

"You mean Anthony Belbins?" Hawk asked carefully. "Didn't he die of a heart attack?" Crowther's face twitched slightly. Clayton was starting to suspect that the man hadn't died of a heart attack at all.

"We interrogated him…and found out about the sleeper program that way," Crowther continued. "Anthony had an artificial personality that had codenamed itself 'Caesar.' The sleeper wouldn't reveal much, but he revealed enough." The general began pacing around the spacious living room. Hawk felt his frown deepen. He was now sure that the aide-de-camp had died another way.

"I confronted Malthus about it, but he denied everything," the Juggler continued. "Anthony…did die, but not from a heart attack. He died from poison. I don't know who or how someone slipped it to him, but they did. It was probably Malthus trying to cover his ass." For a moment, Crowther actually looked somewhat saddened. A moment later, however, the momentary window of human empathy was gone.

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" Hawk asked. The other man didn't answer. Fury beginning to boil inside him now, the Tomahawk stepped closer to his colleague and fixed one of his fiercest glares on him. A trickle of sweat ran down the other man's face.

"Tell me Crowther," Hawk rumbled, his voice coming out in a low growl. "Is the reason that you never told anyone before because you were hoping to get control of the program for yourself? What if Cobra gets access to Malthus's sleepers?" Crowther backed up a step. The man was making a decisive effort to act unafraid, but Hawk could see the sudden fear in his eyes. Hawk took another step forward.

"Spare me the self-righteous lecture, Abernathy," Crowther replied. More sweat glistened on his face. "You would have done the same."

"You think so?" Hawk's tone sharpened. "Then you don't know me very well."

An uneasy silence settled over the living room. Clayton circled around the other man, as if he were a wolf sniffing its prey. Crowther 's face paled as he grew more and more uncomfortable with the clearly unhappy General Hawk. The general opened his mouth to say something, but only empty air came out. Finally…

"This is my home," Crowther finally snarled. "You have no right to come in here and accuse me of…"

"Theodore Yun said that there may be a plant on the Joe team," Hawk cut in, ignoring the man's complaint. "Seeing as your aide-de-camp was a sleeper, then I'd say that it's entirely possible that I may have one…much as I don't want to believe it." Hawk leaned in closer and forced Crowther to take another step backwards towards a nearby wall. He wasn't leaving until he had answers.

"What do you know?" Hawk demanded. "I swear to God, Crowther, if you're keeping any information from me I'll…" He trailed off and let his unspoken threat hang in the air. Crowther's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat. Clayton forcibly reigned himself in.

"The sleeper hinted that there might be one on your team," Crowther finally answered hoarsely. "He never outright admitted it though."

Hawk closed his eyes and counted to ten. His heart rate sped up and it took all of his self-control to keep his cool. He didn't…he couldn't…Clayton trusted all of his Joes. He couldn't have…

"I refuse to believe it," Clayton finally said. He was in self-denial and he knew it. Both Yun and Crowther had just confirmed the existence of the same program and the possibility that Malthus had planted someone on his team. Even while the tactical side of him knew he had to face up to the very real possibility, the other part of Hawk simply wanted to sit down and pretend it was a bad dream.

"You'd better start believing it, Abernathy," Crowther replied sharply, regaining some of his former bluster. "Yeah, I covered up what happened with Tony…but it still happened. He was a sleeper. I don't know if he knew or not before, but the fact remains that he was one of Malthus's dogs."

Heart racing, thoughts whirling…Hawk closed his eyes again in an attempt to stop things from spinning. He opened them again.

"Who?" he heard himself ask calmly. "What qualifications was Malthus looking for in a sleeper? I don't even know what to look for."

"Hell if I know," Crowther grunted. "All I know is that Malthus probably wanted a Joe that he knew he could control…someone to keep tabs on you and GI Joe operations. As for how long…probably before he or she joined the Joes…or after…hell, I don't know! Yun could probably tell you more."

"You interrogated the sleeper," Hawk pointed out. "What did you find out?"

"Not much more than I've already told you. 'Caesar' wouldn't release any names or even how the brainwashing was done."

"But you still knew that the program at least existed," Hawk said. His eyes narrowed slightly. The fucking son of a bitch…he'd known about the program. Crowther had uncovered a god damn sleeper, among his own staff no less and had failed to report it. He'd even interrogated the man and uncovered the possibility that there was a plant on the Joe team, as well as other areas of the government. However, probably in the hopes of gaining control of Malthus's program after his imprisonment, Crowther had kept his damn mouth shut.

Now Malthus was on the loose again and, according to the latest report from the Pit, almost certainly with Cobra.

"You knew, you son of bitch," Hawk continued, briefly losing his hard won control. Somewhere inside of him, the livid part of him was screaming bloody murder. However, the outer part of him was calm and in control…mostly. Clayton was sorely tempted to shove Crowther's ass up against the wall and punch him. However, that would accomplish nothing...especially since he needed to work with the man, slimy bastard that he was. It would be somewhat satisfying though.

"I suspected you might have one too, but I wasn't sure," Crowther denied. His face had paled a shade. "And I sure as hell wasn't sure who it might be. The program was likely shut down anyway after Malthus was thrown in Leavenworth."

Hawk took a deep breath. Ignore the fury, focus on the problem. At this point, Crowther and Yun were probably his most important allies in solving this particular situation. It wasn't as if he could go to any of his Joes for help, at least not without alerting a possible sleeper agent. Fucking hell.

"Get some sleep," Crowther said, looking at him. The general straightened his bathrobe and fixed a glare on him. "I'm not exactly happy with you waking me up, but I can understand why you charged over here."

"I'm supposed to sleep knowing that one of my Joes might stab me in the back?" Hawk asked.

"Don't exactly have much of a choice, do you now?"

No, he didn't. Hawk felt his fingers itch to punch the Juggler for withholding information, but he resisted the urge. Like it or not, he needed Crowther. The sick, twisted irony was…right now he could probably trust the man more than the men and women under his command.


Psyche Out frowned as he stared down at a photo. It contained the image of a familiar, female face. He picked it up and scrutinized it. She had short, brunette hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a face that exuded intelligence. He knew this woman. Her name was Dr. Rachel Tam.

She also was apparently a suspected Malthus flunky.

Kenneth Rich groaned slightly.

He knew Rachel. She was a military psychologist in the Navy. They had met at an international symposium on applied military psychology in Switzerland five years ago. Psyche Out had presented a paper on gender and leader effectiveness on the front lines, while she had presented one on combat stress.

They had talked after the conference and had gone out for coffee. Since then, they had exchanged the occasional letters. Psyche Out had seen her several times since then, usually in a professional capacity. The last time he had finally gathered the courage to ask her on a date.

There had been French cuisine and wine that night…as well as a few other pleasures.

"No, no, no," he muttered to himself. Psyche Out hadn't had any idea that Rachel had connections with General Malthus. According to classified records, however, she'd worked under him for three years.

Ignore your personal feelings and bias, Kenneth, he told himself. Focus on the issue at hand.

Pushing his feelings of dismay away, Psyche Out continued to construct psychological profiles of all Malthus's suspected associates. He'd since finished with an examination of everyone that had been on duty at Fort Leavenworth when Malthus had escaped. That report was ready to go.

He read carefully through Rachel's file and scratched notes onto a pad of paper. When he was finished, he moved on to the next file in the stack on his desk. It was well into the night when he was finally finished with his preliminary report.


Head throbbing from lack of sleep, Clayton Abernathy gripped his coffee mug as if it were a lifeline. Sleep had eluded him for much of the night. When he'd finally fallen asleep somewhere around four in the morning, a nightmare had woken him up. Hawk could almost still feel the cold steel of a katana blade pressed to his throat.

"Alright Theodore," he said, forcing away his exhaustion. "You've worked with Malthus. What're we looking for?"

Theodore Yun scratched his chin for a moment before yawning. There were dark circles underneath the Army colonel's eyes. Crowther, who was sitting adjacent to the two men, looked equally exhausted. Apparently none of them had gotten much sleep that night.

"Probably someone in the chain of command," Yun answered. "Malthus would have wanted someone who was close to you. Your aide de camp is probably suspect too, as are any close friends you may have on the Joe team." Crowther raised an eyebrow. Neither he nor Hawk had mentioned the dead Anthony Belbins to the colonel.

"It would also probably be someone with access to classified information, right?" General Crowther asked. "Isn't that the point to the sleeper program, having access to information that Malthus wouldn't otherwise have?"

Yun nodded. He dug into his pocket and produced a pen. Finding a scrap of paper, he began jotting down notes for the two generals.

"My best guess is, you'll want someone in the chain of command that's close to you and has access to information. However, it could also be someone outside the command chain…very possibly someone in intelligence…or anyone really who's good at gathering information," Yun said, making neat notes as he talked. That didn't make Hawk feel any better. A good number of his Joes were in a position to do that.

"I've got dozens of Joes on my team, not including greenshirts and other personnel," Hawk sighed. He, of course, wasn't sharing the said roster with Crowther or Yun. The point of this particular meeting was to determine what kind of qualifications would narrow down potential suspects.

"There's another problem to think about," Crowther added. "Did these sleepers volunteer willingly for the job? I mean, is it just simple brainwashing or adding a completely new personality to the host? Anthony…" the general trailed off a moment and eyed Yun before continuing. "My former aide de camp…the 'sleeper' personality didn't act much different than Anthony. He even claimed that he was just another aspect of Tony's preexisting mind…and that the conditioning had simply split up the original personality."

Hawk felt his migraine deepen. Too many factors and unanswered questions. Things had been much simpler even just a mere twenty hours ago. He breathed in deep and rubbed his forehead, trying in vain to smooth the tiredness away.

"Another question, when would the conditioning have taken place?" Hawk asked tiredly. "Before they arrived at the Pit? After? You don't know how many times we screened potential candidates. If something was out of the ordinary, it should have shown up."

"I don't know," Yun apologized. "I'm sorry, but I don't. I wish I knew more."

"Not your fault," Hawk replied quietly. God dammit, he was tired. Just once he'd like a restful day where he didn't have to watch his back. Usually he at least had his Joes to help with the back watching, but now…

It was hard to think with his brain feeling fogged up.

"Are you okay?" Theodore Yun asked, giving him a concerned look. "You don't look well."

"Didn't sleep much," Hawk responded. He raised an eyebrow at the Korean American. "You don't look so good yourself, by the way."

Yun smiled weakly. "I just ratted out my former commanding officer. Either he or some of my former associates will probably come after me." Ah. In his exhausted and stressed state of mind, Hawk hadn't actually considered that. He supposed that he wasn't the only walking, breathing target now. Malthus would be aiming for both of them.

Hawk stared down at the list Yun pushed his way. It did help to narrow the list of suspects down somewhat, but not by much. The general had no idea how he was going to find the possible sleeper himself. If anything, he probably needed a couple more sets of eyes and brains to help him. But who? Pretty much everyone in GI Joe was suspect. Even the people outside the chain of command posed a possible threat, even if not as high a one as the others.

"Would there be any physical signs?" Clayton asked. He had no idea what those physical signs might be, but it was worth asking. Crowther and Yun gave him equally blank looks.

"Signs like what?" Crowther asked.

"I don't know," Hawk sighed. "I was just wondering if the medical records and psychological profiles might have any clues."

"It's a start, I suppose," Yun shrugged. "I'm not sure if you'll find anything though. General Malthus has always been good about covering up his tracks."

Hawk ignored the throbbing pain in his head and tried to think. It was impossible for him to sift through and find a hidden sleeper agent on his own. It was logistically impossible, even if he was somehow able to ignore all his other duties and concentrate on the problem alone. The other two men had apparently come to the same conclusions.

"If you need help looking…" Yun started to offer, but Hawk shook his head. The man had been helpful so far, but he was still a former Malthus associate. For all Clayton knew, Theodore Yun could be a sleeper agent. He wasn't going to give him access to the Joes' roster and personal files.

"Sorry, but I can't," Hawk replied. He rubbed his eyes again. "You said people outside of the chain of command should pose less of a security risk, right?"

"Yes, 'less' of a risk," Yun reminded him. "But still a risk nonetheless." He paused and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You're going to bring some of your Joes into this?"

"It's not like he's got much of a choice," Crowther said, speaking up again. "He can't bring too many people in for obvious reasons…it would alert the sleeper and probably cause unneeded suspicion among the ranks. But…"

"But I need someone," Hawk finished. He sighed again. "The question is, who?"


1100 hours.

Colonel Yun sighed. He tried to ignore the imaginary target that he was certain was now painted across his back. The back of his skull itched. Yun did his best to not look behind him. If there were assassins after him now, he probably wouldn't see or hear them coming.

"Yun!"

A familiar voice bellowed his name. Yun cringed. That would be one of his potential assassins now. Plastering a friendly smile on his face, he turned around and waited for the onslaught. The back of his neck tingled again. He forcibly ignored it while he watched Matthew Harris making a furious beeline in his direction.

Here comes the punch…

Theodore Yun twisted his head and torso to avoid the punch Harris threw at him. Well, at least the man hadn't pointed a gun at him yet. Or stabbed him with a knife. One of the two still might yet come. Red faced now, the CIA director leaned in close to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harris hissed. "You're telling our secrets. We swore an oath to General Malthus that…" Yun held up a hand to pause the man in his tirade. Once he was certain that they really were alone, he put it back down.

"We also swore oaths to protect and defend the United States of America, including upholding all of its laws," Yun responded. "Come on Matt, open your eyes," he pleaded. "Malthus has sided with Cobra…and he'd been working with them before. I'm supposed to side with a terrorist group?"

"You're in as deep as me and Remzi," Harris pointed out with a growl. The man pointed an accusing finger at him. "You think working with Abernathy is going to save you a court martial? Hah. You'll be lucky if a bullet doesn't get you first." Having spoken his mind, Harris spun around on his heels and strode quickly in the other direction. Yun watched him leave with a blank expression on his face.

"Sorry Matt," Yun muttered, turning back in his original direction. "I didn't have a choice."

For the rest of the day, Colonel Theodore Bae Yun felt as if a target was painted across his body. No matter which direction he faced, he was certain that an assassin's blade or bullet was waiting for him. On multiple occasions over the next several days, he routinely checked to make sure that he still had his sidearm securely hidden on his body.


Then from the citadel, conspicuous,
Laocoon, with all his following choir,
hurried indignant down; and from afar
thus hailed the people: "O unhappy men!
What madness this? Who deems our foemen fled?
Think ye the gifts of Greece can lack for guile?
Have ye not known Odysseus? The Achaean
hides, caged in yonder beams; or this is reared
for engin'ry on our proud battlements,
to spy upon our roof-tops, or descend
in ruin on the city. 'T is a snare.
Trust not this horse, O Troy, whate'er it bode!
I fear the Greeks, though gift on gift they bear.

Excerpt from the Aeneid


Author's note: Theodore Bae Yun, Matthew Harris, Armen Remzi, and Rachel Tam are my own creations. Also, Rachel Tam's name is an homage to two characters: River and Simon Tam of Firefly. For any Firefly fans reading this, I think you'll appreciate the irony of giving River's family name to a shrink. Also, thanks to Karama9 for the suggestion of Belbins for my fictional, dead aide-de-camp.