Langley, Virginia

Traffic was barely moving along Interstate 495. A thick blanket of snow had coated the landscape, making traveling on the roadway difficult. Henry Logan settled back in the warm leather seat of his Lexus LX, the weight of the day sitting heavily on his shoulders. Things had gone from bad to worse in the search for Andra Norreys with the discovery of four dead and two severely injured men north of Moscow. The backgrounds of each men involved were carefully erased long before Russian police had a chance to check the identities of the six American men, heavily armed and several of them suffering from grave gunshot wounds themselves, fired from the barrel of an AR-15.

He had a feeling something was wrong when Hollis missed his required check-in, and failed to answer the several calls Logan made himself. He had quickly informed his superiors of his suspicions, and precautions were made to protect the CIA and any interests it had in the former Communist country. The dossiers of the six men were erased from the internal banks within the CIA, replaced with well thought-out identities, reserved for situations such as this. As far as the Russian police and its government would know, they were not employed with the Central Intelligence Agency, nor had they ever been.

But, that still didn't solve the Agency's problem with Andra Norreys, and the risk she still posed for the United States. In fact, it multiplied the threat, as they now hadn't a clue where she or the MI6 agent assigned to black-list her were. Norreys' connections ran deep, deeper than anyone in the Agency would ever know. A clean escape from Russia would be difficult, but it wouldn't surprise Logan in the least if Norreys was able to accomplish it. And getting a good foothold within the Middle East would be difficult. They would be less apt to help a wanting United States

Logan pounded the steering wheel in disgust, angry with the traffic, angry with the fresh snowfall, angry with the dwindling options life was handing him.

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Domodedovo International Airport

The airport was bustling with activity, crowded to near capacity with persons from all walks of life, each sharing the same exasperated expression, fed up with the long lines, pushy people, and never ending list of delayed flights.

James kept a watchful eye on the crowd, using the pack as shelter. He did his best to blend in, hoping he looked as any other traveler ready to embark, weary yet excited at the same time, always making certain Andra was within arms reach.

No one in the crowd 'screamed' undercover agent, of course if they had, they wouldn't be very good at their jobs. However, the wary feeling that had washed over James at the hotel failed to subside; he was certain the were being followed, certain they were being watched at that very moment. Normally, James wasn't so paranoid, which was exactly why the feeling unnerved him so.

In front of him, Andra shifted her weight from her left to her right foot, doing her best to stifle a sigh. If she shared James' feeling, she sure wasn't showing it. Her posture was relaxed, her expression, calm. Every so often, she let her gaze roam the airport, not too intently, focusing on nothing, observing everything.

His gaze pulled to the lean man at the ticket counter, feeling as if he had seen him somewhere before.

Zurich. Nearly a decade ago. The man was a MI6 agent he rendezvoused with briefly during a five minute exchange of information on a BND agent he had been trying to turn. He couldn't remember his name, but James was almost certain it was him.

James reached out and wrapped his arms around Andra's waist, pulling her close to him so he could whisper into her ear.

"Don't fight me, just listen." he ordered as he felt her body tense, loosening only slightly after uttering the phrase. "The man at the counter is MI6. I met him before."

"Are you sure?"

"Nearly. I don't believe it's just coincidence he happens to be boarding the same flight we are." James decided to take advantage of the situation, even if it was ever so slightly, kissing the side of her neck lightly, playing the role she had picked out for him the night before. He knew it would upset her, and by look on her face it did, which was exactly why he did it. "You smell nice." he murmured, receiving a glare in return. "You picked the role, Andra. No need to get upset just because I'm staying in character." Andra pulled away, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, her eyes radiating pure anger.

"Do that again, and I will kill you." Andra hissed, leaning close to ensure she would not be overheard. "And don't ever call me 'Andra' again. It implies a certain intimacy we certainly do not share." James chose to remain silent, but allowed an amused grin to turn his lips, which only seemed to upset Andra further.

"Whatever you say, darling." James whispered after Andra turned back around. He noticed her visibly stiffen as she stepped forward to the awaiting clerk, noticing for the first time they were the next individuals in line.

"How can I help you?" the slightly overweight lady dressed in a simple pencil skirt and white blouse asked, politely in English, her voice laced with a thick Russian accent.

"Hello," James stepped ahead of Andra, cutting her sentence before she even had a chance to utter it, a disarming smile on his lips. "well, I was hoping, actually, that you could help us out a bit." James began, sliding his passport along the counter towards the clerk as he spoke. "I am certainly rather embarrassed to say this, but I booked the wrong flight. I was hoping I could exchange our tickets." He could feel Andra's hot gaze on the side of his face, knowing she wouldn't say a word. At least, not until they were clear of the clerk's earshot.

"Well, we'll see what we can do for you, sir." the woman smiled, blushing slightly when James leaned against the counter, keeping his azure eyes focused on hers, the same lopsided smile on his face. "Do you have the tickets?"

"I do." James turned and grabbed the boarding passes Andra had printed from the kiosk located by the front doors from his jacket pocket.

"Where would you like to fly to, sir?"

"Chania, Greece." He could almost sense what was going through Andra's mind as he spoke. He was certain she knew what he was doing, and why he was doing it. But, it sure didn't mean she would have to like it. Not that it bothered James to terribly much. He let her go on long enough thinking she had the upper hand in this. Enough was enough. Especially if they wanted to survive.

"I think you may be in luck, sir." the woman smiled sweetly, her expression genuine. "We have a flight leaving in just under an hour, landing at Thessaloniki Airport with a layover for two hours and fifteen minutes before reaching its final destination in Chania. Will that do, sir?"

"That would be wonderful." James said, smiling at Andra. "Isn't that great, darling?" Andra stared back at him, her lips pursed tightly and her emerald eyes narrowed in anger. His smile didn't waver, in fact, it seemed to grow wider at her reaction.

"However, sir, there will be a slight fee for the adjustments."

"That's fine. How much?"

"Twenty-five thousand, nine hundred and fifty-three rubles." The clerk said stoically, without even batting an eye.

"Of course. Darling," James' smile widened more so, if that were even possible. "seeing as how you are in charge of all the money…" Andra forced a thin smile, remembering her role in all of this and reached into the small carry on she had purchased on the way to the airport, filled only with bare necessities, and produced a credit card, printed with the name Ekaterina Tarasovna, handing it to the plump clerk.

"Cpaceeba." Andra nodded sharply, her gaze never leaving James' face.

With a quick swipe of the credit card, and a few more seconds waiting for the newly purchased tickets to print, Andra and James stepped away from the counter, their gaze every so often floating towards the lanky man dressed in a casual outfit of black slacks and a charcoal grey button down, noticing everywhere they went, the man wasn't too far behind.

Andra had purposely made sure they arrived for their flight right on time, and calls for their flight to Dubai blasted over the loudspeaker in Russian, followed by its English translation. First-class was to be boarded first, followed by business, which still left most of the passengers patiently awaiting for their seats to be called, giving James and Andra a bit of cover from the MI6 agent.

His gaze washed over the two for a brief moment, then he went back to casually ignoring them. James grabbed Andra and pulled her toward the men's room before the agent had another chance to glance their way. With a light shove, he pushed her into the room, locking the door behind them when he made certain they were alone. With no motion wasted, James dug into his own carry on suitcase, pulling a change of clothing from the bag for Andra. After tossing the change of clothing onto the toilet seat, Andra locked herself in a stall and quickly shed her clothing, as James did the same. Within a few moments, Andra and James emerged from the restroom, with Andra dressed in an airy patterned skirt that fell conservatively just below her knees and a white cashmere sweater. Her blonde hair was tucked underneath a brunette wig that grazed her shoulders. James had changed into black slacks and a dark blue wool sweater, his own blonde hair hidden beneath a dark wig. Non-prescription reading glasses now framed his blue eyes. He stole a glance at their tail, who was busy scanning the sea of faces, panic reflecting in his dark eyes. A sly grin spread across James' lips as he led Andra away from the gate, a heavy hand on the small of her back, steering her toward the much small group of passengers, already lined up at the terminal, waiting for the flight to Greece to be called.