Michael fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair, exchanging little glances with Victoria every few seconds. They had spent the last four days in a holding pattern, cut off from their normal office staff. They didn't know what to expect with the latest phone call, but only minutes later they'd been directed to FBI headquarters. There was so much nervous energy in the room they were waiting in that you could have cut the air with a knife. When the familiar agent finally walked through the door, they both instantly got to their feet in anticipation.

"Mr. And Mrs. Ambassador, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Please, have a seat." The man told them evenly. He joined them at the table, setting down an innocuous looking file.

"Agent Fuller. We were happy to hear from you." Michael told him. "I hope this means you have something."

"Yes, we have some information. We started with one of the most obvious routes, looking into Owen's finances. There were some rather complicated rabbit trails, but intelligence managed to nail down his account out of the Cayman Islands."

"I thought those things weren't able to be traced." Victoria said softly.

"Officially, we don't have the technology. Unofficially...we've made certain strides in the last two years that have...enabled us quite a bit more. There have been three major transfers, all within the last month. We can trace them as belonging to your man Owen Helms, he's dirty, no question about it. The problem is, we can't trace where they're coming from, only that they've arrived. It makes him look guilty, but of what would be in serious question." He explained slowly. "What we have to have is hard evidence of a link between Helms, and these terrorists. All the theories in the world won't convict the man."

"You're saying he could get away with this." Victoria said, louder than before.

"I'm saying...we're probably going to need a little more time to make a case. I'm sorry...I just want you to know that we're working on it. We're doing the best that we can."

At that moment there was a rather insistent knock at the door. Agent Fuller glanced back with a little irritation, and then got to his feet. "Excuse me for a moment." He said apologetically, and went to the door. Fuller scowled slightly at the man on the other side of the door, stepping out into the hallway with him.

"Winters what is it? I specifically asked not be interrupted." He demanded.

"Sir you need to hear this. We just received a call from JFK...they have several men currently detained that may hold a special interest in this case."

Fuller's expression changed instantly. "Has anybody moved yet?"

"No sir, they're waiting for you."

"Alright call Security and make sure they're locked down good and tight. Give me thirty seconds with the Ambassadors, and we'll get moving." Fuller turned on heel and went back into the office where Michael and Victoria were waiting.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ambassador, we may have an interesting development on our hands, something that we need to attend to immediately. With your kind indulgence I need to leave you now. You can wait here if you like, but it will probably take several hours, so I would suggest you go back to your hotel. I will call you later, regardless."

"I'll hold you to that Agent Fuller." Michael said as he and Victoria rose.

About three hours later Agent Fuller walked into an interrogation room to meet the only one of the six detainees who had yet to utter a single word. The man eyed him with a brash cockiness as Fuller sat down across the table from him. The Agent stared back cooly for several seconds, without saying anything at all.

"I understand you six put on quite a spectacle at the airport." Fuller said casually.

"Look bloke, you could save yourself a lot of breath." The man said apathetically. "I'm not telling you anything."

"They call you Davis right? You could save yourself something too, because I don't even care about your buddies right now. That's not why you're here."

The man cocked his head in the first show of interest. "Alright, I'm game for a tale. Why am I here?"

"Davis, we know that your men had an inside contact in the Ambassador's circle. I want to know who the American mole is."

"Well, that's a pretty bit of information. Why would I be so inclined as to share something like that with you?"

"For starters, he's not one your men, so what do you care what happens to him? He wasn't even able to completely deliver was he? Two failed kidnapings, and now nine of you in custody between the two raids. And you still feel a need to protect the man?"

"You're not gettin' it bloke - I'm asking what's in this for me?" He said pointedly.

"Lemme put it to you this way. Where would you rather be inclined to spend the rest of your days?"

"You're saying I have a choice in the matter?"

"Depends. You can rot here in an American prison...where the entire populace will be prone to hate you for the mere fact that you're a terrorist. But you have a whole list of charges at home to follow up on too, so extradition could be on the agenda."

Davis sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "I tell you who the mole is, and you'll get me extradited?"

"If you information is good enough."

"Guy's name is Owen Helms. He's the big man's Chief of Security." Davis said bluntly with no more hesitation.

"Can you prove that?" Fuller asked him.

Davis laughed arrogantly. "If you expect me to do your whole job for you, maybe we could trade sides of the table here bloke."

Fuller smiled tolerantly, snapping up his paperwork from the table. "I'm sorry, I thought you were trying to make a deal here. If that's all you have to say, I guess we're finished." He got up from the table then and turned for the door.

"Wait, now wait just a second!" Davis yelled after him, and Fuller turned with another coy smile.

"You were saying?"

"Sit back down, and I'll tell you what you wanna know."

Fuller sat back down, his own arms crossed defiantly. "Better be good Davis. There's five other men that just might be willing to deal if you're not."

"You've already got all the evidence you need." Davis told him. "I had a digital recorder on me when those blokes brought us in. You find that recorder, you'll have your proof."

A search of their confiscated effects easily turned up the digital recorder, and Fuller had his team start analysis on the files immediately. There were several days of recordings to go through, and it took a couple of hours before they were able to separate the relevant messages from the useless information. It was after midnight before voice-print technology had made a definite match to the recording, and reasonable doubt would no longer be in question.

Fuller collapsed back in his office, weary but no less exhilarated. It was late, but there was no question they would want this phone call. He dialed Michael's cell-phone number, smiling to himself when the Diplomat answered on the second ring.

"Hello sir - it sounds like you've been waiting for me."

"I have Agent Fuller - please tell me you have good news."

"We have him Ambassador. Woke up a judge to have the warrant issued - he should be in custody within the next hour."

Michael laughed with serious relief as he swiftly told Victoria what Fuller had said, and then returned to the phone. "So what happened?"

"Six of the terrorists were caught trying to get through JFK. We got the name, and we got the proof of connection that we needed."

"Everything will honestly hold up?"

"Owen's main contact kept digital records of every phone call that ever passed between them - the first three messages have been completely analyzed, and the match is dead on. My team is going through the rest of material - but I'll just say we had no problem getting a warrant. I can give you a call back when they have him in custody if you like."

"Thank you Agent Fuller, for everything."

Michael hung up then, rolling over in bed so he could see his wife. They had been like that for several hours, neither moving or sleeping, hardly uttering a word.

"It's going to be alright Vic." He told her softly, brushing auburn hair from her forehead.

She sighed deeply, partially out of exhaustion and partially from relief. "I'm so ready to see her again. I can hardly believe all this. That Owen would participate...arrange it all, just for money. He put a price on her head."

"The good news is, he's been caught. And several other bad men are going to be put away too."

"No thanks to us. We didn't protect her. Perfect strangers did a better job of that."

Michael looked down for a long moment, not knowing what to say, and Victoria drew him lightly back to look at her.

"Don't listen to her. That's just a helpless Mom who thought she was going to lose her girl." Victoria told him apologetically, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"She truly is a part of us now, isn't she?" Michael said. "I don't think I've ever been so scared in my entire life. The thought of losing Jenna...it was like...waking up from a nightmare, only to find out that it was real." He smiled broadly then as another thought came to him. "Y' know maybe we should take some steps."

"What steps?"

"I don't know, precautions. We could like...lock her up in her own private wing where no one else could ever get to her." He said with a laugh.

"I think she might resent that a little bit." Victoria said, punching him in the shoulder with her own laugh.

"I don't know. If we set her up with her own sound studio she might forget that the rest of the world even exists."

Victoria laughed again, and smacked him with her pillow.