Out of the Ashes.
A/N: A big thank you to all those who have reviewed. And a special thanks to Daisyday and Amanda Hawthorn for reading through the first part of this chapter for me.
Chapter thirty seven.
"Are you sure ma'am? We have a smaller model available. It's not as powerful, but you might find it easier to ride." The officer in charge of the motor pool swallowed nervously at the narrow eyed stare he was receiving.
"No. Thank you." Fiona smiled through gritted teeth, as she pulled on a pair of thick gloves. "After all, it's not as if I can get hurt now is it?" She flicked the visor down on her crash helmet.
Deep down she felt a tiny sliver of pity for the the young man stood before her, she guessed he was only trying to be helpful. But having to wear full protective clothing for her motorcycle ride, in the heat of the day was infuriating. And now this idiot, was concerned that while she was sitting on the motocross bike the only part of her feet that reached the ground was her tiptoes.
"Ma'am that's a very heavy machine, very powerful...I mean.." His words beginning to falter under the stony gaze of the tiny woman facing him.
"It's fine we can manage." Michael butted in, tipping the visor of his crash helmet down. It was his fault they were being forced to wear padded jackets, pants and boots. Or to be more precise it was his doctor's fault. With the shooting ranges unavailable they had strolled over to where a row of motocross motorbikes were being worked on by the camp mechanics. When they asked to take two of the machines out they were told it was in his file, in large red letters. No activities that might result in another head injury. The only way they were going to be allowed out on the motorbikes was in full protective clothing.
As the man stepped back admitting defeat, Fiona pushed the start button, and as soon as the bike roared to life she set off, the front wheel rising off the ground as she twisted the throttle fully open.
Sending the guard a sympathetic look Michael set off after her across the compound, and onto the scrub land that was being used to train recruits on riding across country. Increasing her speed Fiona led the way, sliding around obstacles and flying up and down the small dips and hills.
Eventually coming to a stop on a piece of open flat ground, lifting her visor she smiled across at Michael all signs of her previous bad mood gone. "Do you think you can catch me Michael?" She asked, the light of competition in her eyes.
"Sure, I'm ready for you this..." He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as she left him in a cloud of exhaust smoke, her weight forward over the handle bars trying to keep the front wheel of her bike down as she sped away.
Snapping down the visor Michael gave chase, she was not going to beat him this time. Hoping the CIA doctors didn't get to see what he was doing, he recklessly sent the bike up a steep slope so he could come down on the other side, inches off the back of Fiona's bike.
They weaved in and out of the trees sailing over rocks and broken branches laying in their path. Michael managed to come up along side her, determined that she wasn't going to win the race. As he came level she kicked out with her heavy boot trying to make him back off. Instead he used his weight and pushed back forcing her towards a large thicket. He came to a stop as Fiona's bike crashed into the bush and stalled.
Raising his visor Michael smirked. "I win." He stated, smugly.
Fiona glared at him, and managed to back the bike out of the bush. Restarting the engine she set off again. "Best out of three Michael!" she shouted back.
Cursing under his breath he gave chase for a second time, staying close behind her this time as she blocked his every attempt to pass her. So instead he began to push her to go faster, letting his front wheel nudge her rear wheel. Also making half hearted attempts to overtake.
Sometimes rather than trying to win, it's far easier to push your opponent into making a mistake.
The thrill of the chase was fuelling his prey drive as he pushed her harder and harder, forcing her to ride faster to keep him from passing. Then her front wheel hit a large exposed tree root and the motorbike came to an abrupt stop sending her sailing over the handle bars. Seeing her limp body laying in the long grass he thought he had gone too far. Coming to a stop, he jumped off his bike letting the machine fall to the ground with the engine still running. Pulling his crash helmet off, just as she did the same, relief flooding through his body when he realized she wasn't hurt.
"I win." He smiled down, thinking how beautiful she looked laying there with her hair fanned out about her head.
"Three out of Five Michael." She held up a hand so he could help her up.
"And I'll beat you again, Fi." He sounded so sure of himself Fiona felt the need to put him back in his place. Or at least on his back, she knocked his legs out from under him. As he fell she pounced, landing astride his hips, and her hands on his shoulders pinning him down.
For a second they just gazed at each other, both them breathing deeply.
"Three out of five Michael, or maybe I should just kick your ass now." Her voice, a low throaty growl as she leaned further over him, her mouth inches from his, her body rocking over his hips a promise of what was to come. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't hear the two men approaching their position.
One of the men coughed. "Sir! Agent Westen!"
Fiona paused, and they both looked up at the two men staring down at them.
"Yes?" Michael managed to say, unable to hide his grin.
"You have a call from Langley." The man replied his expression totally blank.
()()
Fiona woke up laying on Michael's lumpy old mattress, and wrapped up in one of his worn cotton sheets. Opening her eyes fully she rolled onto her side frowning at the sight of the crumbling paint covered walls and the faint smell of gun oil and high explosive. Normally she loved waking up to those smells it gave her a sense of home. But not today. Today she found herself missing the large comfortable bed and luxurious bed linen of the private cottage they had left less than twelve hours earlier.
After Michael had taken the phone call from Langley he had returned dressed in his own clothes and told her he was being called back to Miami to answer some more questions. An hour later they were on a helicopter flying north heading back home. By the time they arrived at the loft it was the middle of the night, and they had fallen straight into bed. She had spent a restless night, wondering what new troubles the day would bring. Michael had slept at her side, his breathing slow and even, seemingly unconcerned about his meeting with Pearce.
With a groan, and a stretch Fiona sat up. "Hey."
He turned to face her, finishing off buttoning his white dress shirt before moving to drop down onto the bed next to her. "Hey." He replied softly cradling her head in one of his hands he drew her in to a long deep kiss.
"Do you have to go? I mean what does this agent Pearce want?" She rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand, enjoying the feel of his work roughen palm on her skin.
"I'll be fine. She just wants to talk to me about what happened to Max." He tried to hide his own concerns about the meeting. Wondering what Pearce had that would overrule Raines order for him to stay at the training camp for three weeks.
"What if she's found some new evidence?" Fiona shuffled round so she could lay her head on his chest, breathing in the musky scent of his aftershave.
He shook his head. "I didn't kill Max, the only evidence is what Anson and Raines hold, and for the time being they need me." He lifted her chin so he could plant another kiss on her lips.
Finally with a sigh he got to his feet. "I have to get ready Fi."
Watching him pick up a tie, she realized nothing she said was going to stop him going to the meeting. "Ok go, but be careful, and while you're gone I'll try to find out what Sam's up to."
Michael had been trying to call Sam ever since he had got his phone back, but it continuously went to voice mail. "If you can't find Sam, you should try that aliens are among us guy. Spencer, Sam said about using him to get into government computers. He might know something." Michael added as he finished getting ready to leave.
She nodded. "Just promise me you'll be careful." She couldn't tell him how scared she was. The last three days had been so good, but she knew all that could be ruined just by him coming under too much stress.
"You too." He replied, returning to her side for a parting kiss.
She watched the door close and then got up, time to find Sam and find out what really had gone on since she left them both on the roof of the Bal Harbour parking garage.
()
Michael came to a stop outside Agent Pearce's office, he paused with his hand raised to knock. From inside the room he could hear her voice raised in anger.
"I want answers, not excuses. Langley is all over my ass over this, and you've brought me nothing. Forensics haven't come up with anything... No, nothing...I can't believe all the fingerprint evidence has been compromised. Find out what happened... Get back to me when you've got something... It better be soon."
The sound of a phone being slammed down was Michael's cue to rap on the door with his knuckles.
"Come in." Pearce snapped.
Michael entered to find Pearce sat behind her desk, a desk that was piled with files, and loose pieces of paperwork. "What, the CIA can't afford filing cabinets?" He quipped gesturing at her desk.
"Shut the door and sit down Westen." She ignored his question, as she massaged her temples. "Sorry, for ruining your vacation." She looked up at him, he looked rested, and more relaxed than the last time she had seen him. His well turned out, calm demeanour irritating her even more than the lack of concrete evidence on Max's killer.
Michael closed the door and took the offered chair, crossing one leg over the other, getting himself comfortable. "Vacation? I thought I was just being kept out of the way until you needed me." He answered easily.
"Oh if it had been up to me, I would have had you back here a lot sooner. You have a very good friend in Director Raines, he took a lot of convincing before I got permission to bring you back. You must have done some good work for him in the past."
"He recruited me from Special forces. And was my agency handler when I first went freelance." Michael shrugged.
"So he just contacted you out of the blue, and offered you a vacation spot?"
"You would have ask him." He answered.
She was obviously suspicious about Raines motives. But how to bring it up, if he was wrong he would have shown his hand. Burnt spies did not go about accusing CIA directors of being traitors. Not if they wanted to stay out of Guantanamo Bay.
"I'm asking you." She replied and then changed subject abruptly, snatching up one of the loose pieces of paper on her desk. "Oh, the security guard who was injured trying to capture Max's murderer. Has finally given us a description of the killer." She read off the sheet. "A white male approximately six feet tall, dark hair, athletic build and dressed in a suit. Does that description sound familiar to you?"
"I would imagine it matches about half the men in this building. If that's all you've got, you'll be questioning a lot of people... Agent Pearce, am I first on your list?" He smiled.
"You're right up there, near the top. It's just a shame the fingerprints have been tainted, and the security cameras all went down. I'm beginning to think it's somebody with contacts high up in the agency who can pull strings. What do you think?"
And there it was, the accusation. She suspected he was guilty of Max's murder, and that Raines was protecting him. He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. If he failed to convince her of his innocence he would fail all his friends. If he was locked up, Anson and Raines would have no reason to protect the people who helped to destroy their covert operation.
"Why somebody from the agency? Wouldn't any decent contract killer know to remove fingerprints, and knock the cameras off line?" He answered, sitting forward in his chair.
Pearce smiled, shuffling the mess on her desk top. Leaning forward to match his body language she looked him squarely in the eye. "You've forgotten. The killer was disturbed retrieving the murder weapon, he had no time to wipe down the surfaces. But all the prints that went to forensics have comeback tainted, and before we had the chance to get back in and take new samples, someone ordered the room to be cleaned. That all points to an inside man wouldn't you say? Somebody in the agency who had a beef with Max."
"Look, I didn't know Max that well but, he seemed like a good guy. Why would anybody in the agency want him dead?"
"That's what I'm working on now. Are you sure he never mentioned anything about a case he was working?"
"No. I worked two jobs with him that's all. We didn't really have time to discuss his previous case load."
Pearce decided to take a chance. "What about somebody from that rogue organization of burnt spies? Is there anybody left who might have been looking for retribution for the death of Robert Devereux?"
Michael froze, somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral. "No. You got them all."
()()
Anson Fulllerton was not convinced Sam Axe was dead. For one there was no corpse to be identified, and two, the man he had used for the job turned out to be an incompetent fool. The mercenary recommended to him by Donald Raines had delivered the guns as ordered but had failed to make sure Axe stayed away from the weapons. Somehow the ex SEAL had managed to plant a tracker amongst the boxes and the boat had been stopped by the ATF before they even got into international waters.
So for the third day in a row he was sat outside the Dearbon hotel waiting to see if Axe would come looking for his girlfriend, or if the girlfriend would go looking for him. While he sat there, he opened up one of the many files he had in his briefcase and continued to make plans for his future safety. He was creating a long list of things for Michael Westen to do when he returned. Anson was determined that when he went back into hiding he would be safe and secure, with nobody left alive who knew who he was, or what he had done.
It was as he sat there he saw the delicate form of Fiona Glenanne get out of a sports car and stroll into the reception of the hotel. Sucking in a deep breath Anson brought out the file marked Glenanne and checked the attached photograph against the woman who had disappeared inside the large glass doors of the hotel.
Reaching for his phone he pressed the number for his new partner. "It's me." He snapped when Raines answered. "When did you plan on telling me Westen and his girlfriend were back in Miami?"
"I've been busy, I haven't had the time to call. I had to bring them both back, I was getting pressure from the agent in charge of a murder investigation in Miami. Don't worry the reports I've received say they've made up. She slept at Westen's loft last night."
Anson paused, Glenanne was on her way out of the hotel. "Keep me informed in future...I think we should meet, work out our communication difficulties. I'll meet you tonight..."
"I can't leave DC." Raines butted in.
"Fine. I'll come up to DC. I'll call you later to tell you where and when." Snapping his phone closed Anson got out of his car.
He reached Fiona's car just as the engine started, coming up to the driver's side window he knocked on the glass, and leaned down.
"Fiona Glenanne? My name is Anson Fullerton." He introduced himself when she rolled the window down.
"What do you want?" She demanded, her hand vanishing into the open hangbag laying next to her.
"Ah, so Michael has told you about me. That's what I like to see, trust and openness it's so important in a loving relationship don't you agree?" He smirked, as she drew her gun out of her bag and placed it on her lap. "I wouldn't do anything foolish dear. I'm sure he's told you what happens to all of you if anything happens to me."
Fiona bit her lip, but refrained from following her natural inclination to shoot the pompous rodent leaning on her car. "So why are you here?" She asked stiffly.
He smiled at her unconcerned by her obvious dislike. " I want you to tell Michael to meet me at three pm at the Bayside Diner." He looked her and down, before adding. "It's been a pleasure to finally meet you."
He walked away, pleased with how the meeting went. She had looked worried, so it was obvious she didn't know where Axe was, the fact she came to the hotel told him she probably hadn't even realized he was missing. Maybe the idiot mercenary had done something right after all.
()()
Michael opened the loft door, to find Fiona sitting at the work bench. The air full of the acrid scent of solder. He walked over to see what she was making, frowning at the sight of a small Gps tracker, and a listening device laying before her, already finished.
"What's this?" He asked picking up the bug, turning it over in his hand.
"Sam's missing, he's been gone for four days." She informed him flatly.
"Gone?" Michael paled, dropping the bug, and moving to her side.
"Four days ago he had breakfast with a Doctor Fullerton and a younger man the receptionist had never seen before. Then he left with the younger man and hasn't been seen since. Elsa is calling the hotel everyday waiting to hear from him. She isn't happy, a load of her customers were treated for food poisoning the evening before Sam disappeared."
She watched him closely worried about how he would take the news. Worried that he would stop her helping him, and run off without thinking. She didn't want to tell him about Anson, it was unfair having to load him down with so much bad news in one go.
"But that's not all." She spoke reluctantly. "When I came out of the hotel, there was a man waiting for me, he said he was Fullerton."
Michael's head came up at her words. "What did he want?" He took hold of her, his eyes scanning every inch of her. "Did he hurt you?"
"Oh please." She scoffed, as if that little weasel of a man could hurt her. "He was just introducing himself. He gave me a message for you. To meet him at the Bayside diner at three."
Michael's mind was working furiously. "Did he follow you to the hotel? Or was he already there?" The questions came out in a jumble. Letting go of her arm he paced back and forth in front of her, his head bowed in thought. "If he was already there it might mean he was waiting for Sam." He muttered, turning over every possibility.
Finally he stopped. "I have to go that meeting. Maybe I can get him to tell me about what's happened to Sam."
She smiled, sliding off the stool she had been sitting on, to catch hold of his arm. "That's what I made these are for." She told him.
"What are you talking about?" He stared into her eyes.
"You wear the bug, record what he wants to do, while I put the tracker on his car." She smiled triumphantly.
"Fi." He stroked his hands up and down her arms. "If he realizes what we're doing."
She reached up, her hand cupping his cheek. Since when had he been so unsure of himself? "You get proof he is blackmailing you, and then you go to this agent Pearce. Hand everything over to the CIA turn him into their problem."
He shook his head. "Fi, he has evidence that implicates me in murder, and you in a bombing campaign. Even if they arrest him we won't walk away clean."
"Ok, maybe I made it sound too simple. But if we can get enough to show he is the evil mastermind behind Management and Vaughn, will you take it to the CIA?"
Michael bit his lip. "Let's see what happens at this meeting" He felt out of his depth, the old frustrations beginning to surface. He turned away to gnaw on his thumb while he thought things through.
"Michael?" Fiona came up to his side, stroking his arm.
"No. I'm fine Fi. It's just so much to deal with." He pulled himself together, decisions made. "We'll try it your way. I'll go to the meeting. You trail him afterwards. If we can get some decent evidence together I'll go to Pearce and give her the lot if that's what you want."
Fiona nodded. "While I trail Anson you try to find Sam. I came back here straight after seeing Anson. I didn't want to risk leading him anywhere else."
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Fiona arrived at the Bayside diner half an hour before the meeting. Setting up in a nearby parking lot with a view of the front of the diner. She watched as Michael turned up twenty minutes later, and then Anson pulled up in a plain silver sedan further down the street. She waited for him to go inside, and then went to plant the tracker.
Michael sat at a table at the back of the diner, from where he could keep an eye on the whole room. He watched Anson approach, barely acknowledging the man when he sat down at the table opposite him.
"So what did Agent Pearce want?" Anson asked as he sat down.
"None of your business." Michael replied flatly.
"It is my business. Everything you do is important to me Michael. You're my favourite employee." Then his tone changed. "So I'll ask again, what did Agent Pearce want?"
"To ask me about the recent work I did for the agency." Michael replied, playing the good soldier. In his mind he was going through all the ways he could kill Anson, while sat in a near empty diner.
Anson slid an envelope across the table. "Inside you will find the schematics of a CIA evidence facility, an ID card identifying you as an employee and a keycard to get you into the evidence lockers. I want the disc you took from the bank safe deposit box for Management. It's being held there. I'll give you a full day to get it."
"I'll be dealing with more than just a key lock, and guards. What other security am I looking at?" Michael demanded.
Anson twitched his lips. "I can't be expected to do your job for you. That's why I'm giving you a full day so you have time to do your research." He got to his feet. "Oh by the way your mom is back in town along with your brother, and his family. You should go visit. They're all worried about you."
Michael stayed in his chair after Anson walked off, the envelope laying on the table before him. He glanced at the ID card, an idea forming in his head. It required a leap of faith. Not something he was keen on doing especially with his friends and family's lives on the line.
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Fiona kept glancing at the screen which showed her the route Anson was taking to his next appointment. She followed him at a distance, a pleased smirk coming to her face when he stopped in a residential district. Speeding up she made it just in time to see him disappear through a gate into a large apartment complex. Studying the outside she drove around the perimeter, and realized there had to be at least three hundred units inside. At least they had narrowed down where he was staying to a few hundred apartments. It was a start.
Hearing her phone ringing, Fiona stopped to answer the call. "Yes Michael?"
"My mom's back I'm going over to the house, meet me there?"
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