Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to Trixie Belden or James Bond. Both are used with respect and love. Not profit is being made from this story.

A View to a Kill

Chapter Four

Jim Frayne pulled into the little town just outside of Albany, New York. He parked his old beat up Ford Taurus given to him by the agency. As he glanced around the aging town, Jim reflected on his present situation. I'm in this old car, wearing these old clothes. Everything is literally falling apart around me, even my life. Jim went in search of the local motel. As expected, it, too, was falling apart.

He scanned the lobby, looking for Quinn. She had promised to meet him here. What will I say to Trixie about her? Too nervous to wait for Quinn's arrival, Jim decided to check out his room.

Jim entered his motel room. At least, it was semi-clean. Jim put his beat up suitcase on the worn bedspread. He sat down beside it and thought about the last twenty-four hours.

He had been given a new ID with a new address. All of his credit cards were taken away. Jim glanced at the picture on the drivers' license. They had managed to make him look quite unsavory, at least for Jim's taste. He had pocket money and had been promised enough to live on. I guess they'll give it to me when I need it.

Jim pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. Although it didn't look new, it was set up just for him. Jim recalled the words Detective Davis had told him.

"This phone is your lifeline, Jim," Detective Davis gave him a serious look. "We can track your whereabouts with this phone. Don't lose it." Davis handed the phone to Jim.

Jim looked at the phone, before turning his attention back to the detective.

"If you lose it we have no way of knowing where you are. Also, if it's not moved after twenty-four hours we are going to assume you are either dead or in trouble." Davis sat on the desk in front of Jim and crossed his arms.

"What if I need to reach you?" Jim asked the detective. "Will that be possible?"

"That phone has a quick dial feature that you can use," he told Jim. "Just press zero. Only use it if you have vital information."

"Vital information?" Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Only if you have names or if an attack is imminent," Detective Davis answered. "It will only ring, however. One of our agents will get back to you. Just in case your phone is stolen, you understand?"

Jim nodded his head. What else could he do?

Sighing, Jim stood up and left the motel. He had to find Bug as soon as possible. He recalled the information in the file. Jim knew the bar and restaurant where Bug spent his time. Hopefully, Jim would get lucky tonight.

Jim sat in a corner of the bar silently drinking his beer. Trying to stay unobtrusive, he kept an eye out for Bug. He couldn't believe his good fortune when Bug arrived alone. After waiting for Bug to be seated at the bar, Jim slowly walked up beside him for another beer.

"Damn government, taxing our beer and cigarettes," Jim grumbled out loud. He turned to Bug. "You'd think with all the taxes they collect, they'd leave us alone."

"Ain't that the truth," agreed Bug, "Lying politicians."

Jim took a drink of beer. Turning to Bug, he said, "Any jobs around here?"

"That depends," Bug replied. "What can you do?"

"Whatever I have to, buddy, whatever I have to." Jim almost laughed out loud at the truthfulness of this statement.

Bug turned to look closely at Jim. He narrowed his eyes with curiosity. "Do I know you? You look kind of familiar."

"Jim Frayne," Jim introduced himself. "I used to live in the area a long time ago."

"Jimmy Red?" Bug questioned Jim. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"No, should I?" Jim gritted his teeth at mention of his old nickname. He felt uncomfortable with the memories it brought back.

"Does the name Bug ring a bell?" he shot back.

"You're the scrawny kid that lived down the street," Jim chuckled. "You were always getting into scraps."

"And you were always saving my hide," Bug reminded him. "Whatever happened to you? The last I heard, you got adopted by some rich folks."

"Don't believe everything you here," Jim took another drink. "It didn't work out, too many problems from the past."

"What happened to all the dough you had?" Bug asked without embarrassment.

"I figured they deserved it more than me. I'm just glad to get away from them, especially Mr. Wheeler." Forgive me, Dad, Jim thought to himself.

"I understand," Bug replied, flatly. "But I'm sure he wasn't as bad as Jonesy."

"Water under the bridge," Jim placed his beer on the counter. "Now about a job, my finances could us a little help here."

"Let me ask around," Bug told him. "You'll be around here tomorrow?"

"Sure," Jim replied and decided to leave. He didn't want to sound too pushy or desperate. "I'll check back with you tomorrow."

Jim was glad the town was small. His motel was within walking distance to almost everything. At least, he didn't have to drive. Thoughts of Trixie ran through his head as he walked. Sighing, Jim wished he had drunk more beer. Thoughts of Quinn also played in his mind. What am I going to do about her? Was it a mistake to be here with Quinn?

Back in the city.

Trixie threw herself into her work. The only time she was in her apartment was to sleep or shower. This time Trixie locked away all her emotions. There would be no crying over Jim Frayne. If he loved her, he would be back. Jim was not a liar, of that Trixie was sure. Trixie also knew that if she stayed busy enough there would be no time to think of Jim.

Trixie's friends and family were not so certain of Jim. Even Honey wondered if Jim just had a case of extremely cold feet. Honey understood Trixie's need to work until the wee hours of the morning. She knew all the Bob-Whites were angry at Jim, too. Sighing, Honey decided to call Trixie one more time.

Ring, Ring, Trixie jumped at the sound of her cell phone. Laying her paperwork down, she stared at the number. "Hello, Honey."

"Trixie, are you still at work?" Honey questioned her friend. "You have to stop this. You've worked nonstop for weeks."

"Listen, Honey, you know this is my way of coping. Can't you see that if I stopped I would be miserable?" Trixie pleaded with her friend.

"I know, but Brian and I miss you," she admonished her. Although she shared an apartment with Trixie, Honey spent much of her free time with Brian. She decided to change the subject. Softly, she said, "The wedding arrangements have all been cancelled. It's been done for weeks."

"Tomorrow was to be the day," Trixie remembered. Swallowing hard, she continued, "I have to stay busy, Honey. I can't think about it."

"Trixie, maybe it is too soon," Honey spoke hesitantly. "But if Jim doesn't come back…"

"He is coming back!" Trixie interrupted her abruptly. "Listen, I promise I'll come over for dinner with you and Brian. Just don't bring this up. I don't want to discuss it right now."

"Next week," Honey insisted. "And you are not getting out of it."

After agreeing on a time, Trixie closed her cell phone. She knew her friends, all of them, meant well, but Trixie knew Jim better than any of them. She had to believe him. Trixie wouldn't make it if she didn't have that to hang on to.

With a vengeance, Trixie dove into her work. At this rate, she would make detective by Christmas, she thought to herself with amusement.

North of Albany

After a boring and awkward day, Jim was looking forward to seeing Bug again. He was starting to realize how difficult it was to be so close to Quinn. She had promised to stay in the background, but Jim felt the pressure she was applying. I wonder how everyone will feel when they see us together.

The assignment was going to be agonizingly slow. Jim was never one for too much patience and this was testing it to the limit.

Glancing around the bar, Jim took a beer and sat down across from the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Bug walking up the street. This should be interesting.

Bug walked straight over to Jim and sat down. "How's it going, Red?"

"It's been going," Jim replied.

"I think I have an idea where you can get a job," Bug told him. "It's not much, just running errands and stuff. You know, like making deliveries. You got wheels?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "It's not much but it'll do for now."

"Let's go then," Bug stood up. "I'll take you to meet the guys. Just remember, they like things done quietly, if you know what I mean."

Nodding again, Jim stood up and followed Bug. Was this the organization and if so, how am I supposed to find out? Will I be able to stop the terrorist before they strike? Again, the pressure rose in his chest. There were too many people depending on his success.