Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to Trixie Belden or the Bob-Whites. I don't even own the right to James Bond. I am not making a profit from the use of these characters.

Tomorrow Never Dies

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Jim ate an early breakfast at an all night diner. He was hoping someone would contact him soon. Unfortunately, he ate his breakfast alone. Now that Quinn was gone it was going to be a pattern. Jim hoped that the urgent business she had to attend to was going to be helpful. He was surprised to realize how much he was missing Quinn and that he was really alone now. Dreading the day ahead, Jim made his way to the men's room.

As he washed his hands, another man entered the room. As Jim moved past him, the man stopped him with his hand.

"Do you have the correct time?" the man asked.

"My time is your time," Jim answered, quite dumbfounded. Is nothing sacred?

"What have you got for me?" At least, the man got straight to the business at hand.

"They are starting to get deliveries," Jim told him, quietly, "all the way through Christmas. There is supposed to be lots of fireworks on New Year's Eve."

"Someone will be in touch with you soon." Quickly, the man left Jim all alone.

Back in the city

The fall weather was turning chilly. Trixie sighed as she glanced up and down the same streets that she had searched for weeks. It was Thanksgiving next week and Trixie desperately wanted to see Jim before the holidays were over. They had never spent a Christmas apart since meeting all those years ago. Drawing her coat under her chin, Trixie walked determinedly up the street again.

Suddenly, Trixie's heart jumped in her throat. It was her. The dark haired woman pictured with Jim. Briskly, Trixie walked after the woman, her shoes clicking on the sidewalk.

Grabbing the woman's arm, Trixie spoke. "Do you mind? I work for the NYPD and I have a few questions for you."

Trixie flashed her badge and hoped she wouldn't get in trouble for using her position for personal business.

The woman gave her a steely glance. "Do you mind? I would prefer to talk somewhere that's warm and dry."

Not giving an inch, Trixie retorted sharply, "How about in here then?"

Trixie opened the door of an adjacent café.

The woman entered the café without looking at Trixie. Sitting near a window, she inquired, "I'm assuming you have a good reason for stopping me, officer."

"First of all, can you state you name?" Trixie wanted her to think this was a professional visit.

"Quinn."

Oh, great. Trixie did a mental eye roll. The mighty Quinn.

"Quinn Frayne."

Trixie paled and she felt her heart would stop beating. Silently, she pulled out the picture of Jim. Placing it before Quinn, she asked, "Is this Mr. Frayne?"

Quinn gave her a look that confused Trixie even more before answering. "He could be. I haven't seen him in awhile. He had some business he had to take care of."

Swallowing, Trixie continued, "Do you know where he is at the moment?"

"Is he in trouble?" she asked curiously. "Would I betray him if I told you?"

"No, he's not in any trouble," Trixie answered, at least not legally. "I just need to ask him a few questions."

"He hasn't contacted me in months," Quinn explained. "Maybe I should be worried?"

Trixie gave the woman a card. "That's my personal number. Please contact me if you hear from him. And you can tell him I would love to have a chat with him."

Nodding, the dark haired beauty placed the card in her purse. Trixie didn't even notice her walking out of the café.

North of Albany

Jim paced the floor of his small room. His contact had given him his instructions. The cap he placed on his head contained a small but powerful camera. Did James Bond ever feel this sick to his stomach? thought Jim.

Every package, every delivery guy would all be taped. The camera contained a live feed directly to the agency. They promised they would move in as soon as they had all the information needed.

"Just make sure you look at the addresses and the people so they will be displayed on the screen."

With a little bit of hope in his heart, Jim went to work. He could finally see an end to this whole fiasco. That's what he considered it, something that had changed his life forever. Please forgive me, Trixie, he begged silently.

Back in the city

"Dan," Trixie sobbed on his shoulders. "She said her last name is Frayne. That's supposed to my last name."

Trixie had been frantic when she called Dan earlier. Luckily, it had been his day off and he rushed to her apartment. Holding her close, Dan started rushing his words. "Where's Honey? Is she coming home or is she staying at Brian's? Do you need me to call her? I don't know what to do, Trix, tell me. Do you want me to find her?"

"No, don't leave, Dan," Trixie cried even harder. "I need Jim so much, Dan. I can't live without him."

"Trixie!" Dan shook her shoulders, letting his anger at Jim show. "Yes, you can."

His actions startled Trixie enough to stop her hysterics.

"But I don't want to," she said softly.

Dan made himself ignore the sadness in her blue eyes. "What all did you find out, Trixie? Tell me everything."

"I didn't even get an address or a phone number," Trixie admitted, shamefacedly. "I was so hurt and angry. I just sat there stunned, like an idiot."

"Can I please call Honey?" he begged. "You don't need to be alone and I'm not doing so good at this, Freckles."

"You did fine, Danny," Trixie assured him with a small smile. Sighing, she added, "I'll call Honey. She'll want to hear it from me anyway."

North of Albany

Nervously, Jim kept accepting shipments. The small containers were extremely heavy and had to be moved with heavy forklifts. Jim knew that lead was most likely the reason the containers were so heavy. He hoped so anyway, not wanting to think about the contents. If the agency was right, that one bomb would contaminate several blocks surrounding the initial explosion.

"Red!" the boss man shouted. "Get in here!"

Quickly, Jim approached the man in charge.

"Tonight's your last night," he informed Jim. "We've got all our shipments. Sorry, we have to let you go. Maybe another time."

Jim nodded and walked away feeling the stress, not noticing the look that the two men exchanged.

Back at the agency, Russell Davis was screaming in a microphone. "Holy shit!" Grabbing his gun, he motioned to the other agents. "We've got to get in there. NOW!"

Within minutes, federal agents had surrounded the building. Moving quietly, they located Jim and the other two men.

"You two take care of Jim," Agent Davis instructed. "We'll handle the other two."

With guns drawn, the two agents nodded at Davis. They knew what they had to do. Hopefully, Jim wouldn't get in the way.

Jim, for his part, was totally unaware of what was about to take place. My last night, thought Jim. They've got to let me see Trixie soon, maybe tomorrow.

As agents swarmed the building, Jim saw guns blazing toward him and he felt himself falling to the ground.

Back in the city

Trixie answered the phone in her apartment. Hopefully, it was Honey returning her call.

"Miss Belden?" the caller asked.

"Speaking," Trixie answered, ready to hang up at the first sign of a sales call.

"This is Quinn Frayne," she spoke softly. "I have found Jim."