Chapter 1
Friday, May 8, 1981
Jaime grinned at Steve as she took a huge bite of her sandwich. ''You're becoming quite the chef these days, Austin,'' she praised. He had fashioned the turkey, ham and provolone subs while his wife fed Becca. The baby was nearly three months old now and had finally passed through the 'premie' stage, the 'newborn' stage - and moved rapidly onward toward normal infant growth and development. Doctor Hammond had explained to them that they should consider the first six weeks of Becca's life as time she would've spent in the womb - and thus when comparing her to 'normal' growth and development charts, she'd only be approaching six weeks old...but Jaime and Steve both felt she'd catch up fast.
''Maybe kitchen duty should be yours permanently,'' Jaime concluded.
''Nah...you can still cook circles around me, any day of the week.''
''Well, I can't show you all of my secrets at once, now...can I?''
Steve raised his eyebrows mischievously and adopted his best (worst) foreign accent. ''Ve haff vays of making you talk!'' he joked. Before they could begin exploring just what those 'ways' might be, the doorbell rang. ''Please tell me you're stopping in to see Becca on your way to your next meeting,'' Steve groaned, stepping aside to allow Oscar in the door.
''I always love to see your daughter, of course,'' Oscar said smoothly, ''but this time...I need to talk to Jaime.''
Steve was glad the baby was asleep. ''Oscar, it's too soon! You - you said you'd wait!''
''And I did, Pal - for over two weeks; unfortunately something urgent has come up.'' Oscar turned to Jaime. ''How are you feeling? Any residual weakness?''
''Nope. I'm ready,'' Jaime firmly assured both men. ''I am! There haven't even been any nightmares for over a week. Where are you sending me? Paris? Thailand? Trinidad?''
''Los Angeles,'' Oscar told her, ''by Presidential Order. Do you remember the law firm you brought down last year, with help from Donald Harris?''
Jaime nodded. ''Of course.''
''It was only the tip of a very large - and very dangerous - iceberg. It seems that government information is flying out of Los Angeles at an alarming rate. Our agents have managed to discover who the latest buyer was but we need more -''
''You need to find out who's stealing this 'stuff'...and stop them,'' Jaime concluded.
''That's right. Your part will be to break into the receiving party's safe, retrieve the information - in this case a set of blueprints for the most vital portion of our country's new missile defense system - and find out anything you can about where the information was purchased.''
Steve frowned. ''A break-in...in the middle of the night? I don't like it.''
''We have to move fast,'' Oscar explained. ''There's no time left for the agents already in place to try and locate the source, or for Jaime to work her way in through 'normal' channels and establish a cover. You should be able to break in, crack the safe - while keeping your ear pealed for guards - grab the files, search the safe and leave, faster than an entire team would be able to achieve in days...or even longer. For you, in and out and back by morning, with whatever you can recover; that should hopefully give our agents something of a jump start - and more to go on.''
Jaime smiled reassuringly at Steve. ''I'll be fine. I can do this! Just point me in the right direction!''
Saturday, May 9, 1981
Getting Oscar to agree was (surprisingly) the easy part. Getting Michael onboard...not so easy.
''Marchetti!'' The guard called to Michael, who was lazily indulging in a few hands of poker in the Isolation Day Room. ''Get up! You have visitors!''
''Busy!'' Michael called back.
''It's Oscar Goldman and Colonel Austin.''
''Still not interested; I've got markers to win back here. Maybe in a few more hands...but maybe not,'' Michael called over his shoulder.
''My instructions are to drag you there if necessary.''
''Damn persistent S.O.B.s...'' Michael grumbled under his breath as he got up to follow the guard and allowed himself to be shackled.
When he reached the small room normally used for conferences between inmates and their attorneys (and thus, no glass partition), Michael gave his visitors a smirk. ''To what do I owe the distinct non-pleasure?'' he sneered.
Oscar quickly explained the situation - and why Michael's assistance was so urgently needed.
''Let me get this straight; you put me away for probably the rest of my life - and now you want my help?'' Michael said with an even broader sneer.
''Please, Michael,'' Steve begged, speaking for the first time since his adversary had been brought in. ''Do this for Jaime. You've always said how much you cared about her...''
''Have the guard remove these chains - and then we'll talk,'' Michael bargained.
Oscar nodded to the guard...and took his weapon from its holster, just in case.
''Tell me more about her condition,'' Michael requested once his arms and legs had been freed (snapping into physician mode again, in spite of himself).
''Critical,'' Oscar told him grimly. ''Jaime is very near death. Corinth has her in electro-sleep so he can keep her 'under' longer, with less risk than a regular anesthetic.'' Rapidly (but thoroughly), using the notes Corinth had given him, he detailed Jaime's current physical state.
Michael nodded. ''When they brought her in, were there any signs of awareness? What was her consciousness level; do you know her Glasgow Score?''
Oscar consulted the notes. ''Eight.''
''Alright; yes, I believe she's still salvageable. And I can save her. Now tell me why I'd want to.''
