Disclaimer, Rating & Spoilers: See Chapter 1

A/N: As far as I know, the St. Ives' Lodge is not a real hotel – I just made it up for the purpose of the story! Also, just a small point for anyone who doesn't know, ACC stands for Assistant Chief Constable, a very high rank in the Police force in Britain.

Stella looked up from the pretence of reading her newspaper as Boyd came striding out of his office, closely followed by Grace. She had been watching them surreptitiously for the past five minutes through the glass partitions of Boyd's office, had witnessed her boss' gesticulations and the psychologist's placating responses but she still had no idea as to the exact reason for their private meeting. Stella raised her eyebrows questioningly at Eve as Grace took a seat quietly next to her and Boyd paced to the front of the room but the scientist merely shrugged, her eyes flickering between the subjects of their joint curiosity.

"What's up?" She asked slowly, tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Where's Spence?" Boyd replied obliquely, turning his back slightly to retrieve a marker pen from its holder.

"He went out to get coffee." Stella answered, exchanging a glance with Eve as she registered the edge to her boss' voice. "Why? Have we got a case?"

Boyd grimaced and held up his palms. "Don't get too excited, Stella, it's not quite as straightforward as that."

The Frenchwoman frowned quizzically. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Let's just wait for Spence, all right?"

As if on cue, Detective Inspector Spencer Jordan pushed the door to the main meeting room open with his back, his arms laden with cardboard coffee cups and a bag of pastries, which he summarily distributed amongst the women and his boss, earning him grateful smiles and a hearty shoulder clap respectively, before assuming his position across the table from Grace. He frowned as he noted Boyd's dominant position at the front of the room, something which had been conspicuously lacking of late, owing to the Cold Case squad's distinct paucity of cases.

"What's going on?" He asked, dark eyes surveying the room and its occupants.

Boyd took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "Okay...This morning I was called into a briefing with our erstwhile new ACC, Ms. Dyson..."

Spence blew out his breath noisily. "The Ice Queen? What did she want?"

"She's…got a task for us."

"A case?" Eve asked hopefully, breaking her croissant in half and taking a large bite.

"Not exactly." Boyd ran a hand through his silver hair, distractedly. "It's more of a non-negotiable request but it...relates to a cold case which is why she called on me specifically."

"What's the cold case, Sir?" Stella asked as she reached for a pen and paper.

"Twenty years ago, a series of rapes were tied to various upmarket central London hotels. The victims were all middle-aged businesswomen, high powered, wealthy...They recovered DNA from several of the victims but they were never able to match it to anyone."

Grace was looking at him pointedly. "As I recall, the Police were given a really hard time when they failed to make any arrests."

Boyd deliberately ignored her and began pacing, gesturing with his hands as he did so. "Around the same time, other business people were getting conned out of large amounts of money in the same hotels. The Police theorised it was a gang and they tried to make the links to the rapes...."

"Tried and failed, I assume?" Eve asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. Anyway, a few months down the line, suddenly everything stopped. The case went cold and it was archived because although some intelligence had been gathered, nobody was ever arrested for either the rapes or the fraud."

"So, where do we come in, then?" Spence queried.

"God, it's started again, hasn't it?" Stella exclaimed before Boyd could respond, realisation flickering across her delicate features. "There was something in the paper last week about a businesswomen getting raped in the...I think it was the St. Ives' Lodge, you know, that big four-star hotel in Mayfair..."

Eve nodded. "I read that too. Does that mean the case is being re-opened, Boyd?"

Boyd paused fractionally before speaking. "One of the Major Incident Teams is handling it."

Grace folded her arms across her chest and looked at him through narrowed eyes at the tone of his answer, noting that he was studiously avoiding her gaze. "Boyd," She said, her voice laced with warning, "stop stalling. Either you tell them in the next thirty seconds or I do."

"Tell us what?" Spence asked, his eyes moving between his boss and the profiler, his suspicions heightened at the obvious undercurrents between them.

Boyd sighed heavily and resuming his pacing, aware that he was hurtling uncomfortably towards the inevitable. "Well, ACC Dyson, in her infinite wisdom, has decided that an undercover operation is the key to solving the case..."

Stella sat up straighter in her chair, her hazel eyes shining with excitement. "Really? We're going undercover?"

Eve grinned. "Ooh, I call dibs on the blond wig and ridiculously over-sized sunglasses."

Spence and Stella laughed loudly but Grace frowned, her expression pained as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Boyd..." She started wearily, earning her a concerned glance from Eve.

Boyd took a breath and held up a hand to silence the chattering of the two youngest members of the group. "Spence, Stella and Eve, you three have been instructed to conduct an investigation into this latest rape; try and find any evidence you can linking it to the incidents twenty years ago..."

"And the two of you...?" Eve's husky voice was full of inquiry.

"Grace and I...have been instructed to go undercover at the St. Ives' Lodge. We're to try and expose this individual or gang and get a confession."

"Bloody hell." The scientist blew out a shocked breath at his words, her exclamation the only sound in the room as Spence and Stella were stunned into silence.

Boyd turned around slightly to write on the transparent board. "The story is we're a wealthy couple doing the rounds of the upmarket hotels....I think Dyson hopes the gang will seek us out and make contact..."

Spencer's expression was grave. "So, what she's really saying is Grace will be used as a honey trap."

Boyd turned back to face them. "I don't like this any more than you do, Spence."

"So why didn't you tell Dyson to shove it, then?"

"Look, whatever I might think of her, she's still the ACC; your boss, my boss…"

"But not my boss." Grace interjected dryly. "Not that that seems to make any difference."

"Can you lodge a formal refusal?" Eve asked.

"Not an option." Boyd replied firmly, his eyes on Grace who sighed softly.

"Why not?" Eve persisted.

"It just isn't, all right?" The older man's voice had risen slightly in volume with irritation. "There's nothing I can do about this, we just have to get on with it and hope we get a fast result."

"Otherwise, what?"

"Look, I don't want to get into it." Boyd growled, beginning to stride back towards his office, determined not to reveal the extent of Dyson's threat for the Unit to the junior officers. "Just get on with it so Grace and I have some useful background to take with us tonight..."

"Tonight?" Spence blew out a breath as he watched the retreating form of his boss. "Jesus, Dyson's cracking the whip already, then."

Grace gave a rueful shrug, rising from her chair with the intention of following in Boyd's wake. "No time like the present or something like that."

Spence's expression was serious as his onyx eyes followed her movements. "I'm not happy about this, Grace."

She gave his shoulder a squeeze as she passed him. "I know, Spence. Neither am I."

Stella spoke up quietly. "I don't understand why a trained undercover team can't handle it. They train for years for this sort of thing."

"I can hazard a guess." Eve said darkly, her eyes searching Grace's. "Something to do with the expendable nature of the Cold Case Unit and its personnel..."

Grace smiled mirthlessly. "I couldn't possibly comment."

"Grace..."

"Boyd should've put his foot down." Spence said. "He shouldn't be letting Dyson bully him into putting you in this position..."

"I very much doubt she's capable of bullying him. I just don't think he was given any alternatives, that's all..."

"Still." The younger man said gruffly. "He could've fought harder, by the sounds of things. He usually does."

"Give him a break, Spence." Grace spread her hands and injected as much levity as she could muster into her voice. "Look, I'm trying to see the bright side, okay? At least I get a few nights in a posh hotel."

Stella tried to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, but with Boyd though."

Eve raised an eyebrow, her acutely sensitive vision detecting the slight blush that had crept into Grace's cheeks at the younger woman's words. "Oh, I don't know, Stella...I can think of worse people to be holed up with undercover." She said mischievously, a grin spreading across her face as she watched the deepening hue of the profiler's skin.

"Eve!" Stella exclaimed, reaching over to slap her friend playfully on the arm. "I can't believe you just said that, he's old enough to be your father!"

Eve laughed loudly. "And your point is?"

"Oh, God." Spence groaned. "I really don't need that mental image, Eve…"

Grace took the opportunity of the resulting joviality to escape, willing away the hot embarrassment that seemed to be pervading every pore of her body before reaching Boyd's office. She leant against the doorframe and waited until he looked up over his glasses to acknowledge her before speaking.

"At the risk of sounding like a stereotype of my gender…" She started, smiling slightly at his reactionary moan and eye roll.

"Do I want to know, Grace?"

"Well, I was just wondering if Dyson's approved a clothing budget for all this."

Boyd sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. "You're not serious."

"I am, actually. If she wants me to look wealthy, I'm going to need to do some shopping this afternoon and I'm buggered if I'm shelling out for it."

"Grace, come on. You're an intelligent woman, what do you think the answer to that is?"

She grimaced at his words, although she had pre-empted them in her mind. "I think I should know by now how tight the Met purse strings are after working with you lot for so long."

"Got it in one."

"So that's a 'no', then?"

He groaned loudly and threw a newspaper across the room at her. "Go on, get out of here, for Christ's sake. I'll pick you up at seven."

Grace chuckled in response and wandered back to her own office, trying not to dwell on the warmth spreading across her chest at their banter.