A/N: Thank you for all your reviews and your continued interest in my AU tale. With the death of Olivia Riley and the threat to his family growing by the hour, Michael finally throws off the last remnants of his post mission blues. It is time for Team Westen to get back to work.
AIDEN
Chapter Thirty Six
Game Change
"... Do you think you could come by and talk to her?"
"Wait, you want me to come by? Are you sure you're okay, Michael?"
"She won't talk to me. She keeps blowing it off like it's nothing. She's - okay, I gotta go,"
And just like that Michael ended the call.
Certainly no 'love you mom' was forthcoming, but at least a 'goodbye' was in order, not just 'I gotta go' followed by a click and the hum on the line, which told her he had hung up to go off to deal with something he considered far more important than talking to his mother.
It was typical of her son and she didn't know why she let it bother her. Madeline frowned and placed the handset back on top of the base unit of her home phone. Really, after so many years she ought to be used to Michael's inability to say goodbye properly... although it was nice to hear from him and it had felt good to be asked for her advice with his girlfriend.
The blonde chuckled softly to herself.
If Michael was finding it hard to deal with a pregnant Fiona now, how was he going to cope when his gun toting, explosive happy fiancée became as big as a house and grouchy because junior had spent the whole night using her bladder as a punch bag?
Still beaming, Madeline made her way from the living room into the laundry room and over to the folding ladder which led up into the attic space. She had spent every free minute during the last three days up in the rafters of her home, sorting through the boxes stacked along the walls three deep searching for a small elusive velvet bag she had hidden away many years ago.
"Madeline, god knows you're not the brightest star in the sky, but you've got a good heart and I do believe you're the best thing that has ever happened to that boy of mine... I want you to promise me you won't let Frank go and pawn these after I'm gone." Donna Van Gelder had held out a thin shaky hand, revealing two gold bands held in her palm. "These were mine and Elias', Frank's daddy. When my time comes, I want Michael to have these."
That had been two days before Frank's mother had finally succumbed to the illness which had cut short her life. Michael had been very close to his grandmother before she'd passed away.
Slipping one hand into her trouser pocket, Maddie gave the small bag a squeeze before using both hands to pull on the long piece of rope which retracted the ladder back into the space high above her head. It had to be fate that had guided her to the right box shortly before her son's call asking for her help with the apparently crazed mother to be.
She had never had the pleasure of meeting Frank's father, Elias Westen. By all accounts he had been a charming rogue, a gambler, a bootlegger and a bit of a con man, but also with a kind heart for those worse off than himself. He had been a character far removed from the tough martinet who had become Frank's stepfather, first marrying the recently widowed Mrs Westen and later moving her and her teenage sons to Miami after her new husband had retired, leaving Georgia and her deceased husband's family behind.
Just for a second, the blonde allowed herself to muse on what life might have been like if her Frank had grown up without having to suffer to harsh discipline dished out by former Drill Sergeant Adam Van Gelder... But the image which floated through her mind offered no real comfort. If Elias Westen had lived, she would probably have never had met the tall dark brooding man who had given her so much joy and devastating heartache over the years.
Shaking off the feeling of melancholy at what might have been, Madeline glanced at her wrist watch. She should be preparing for her senior's stretching class at the Y, but instead she was going to have a quick shower to wash away the dust and cobwebs from her time in the attic and then get changed to visit with her son. Her smile returned… her thoroughly independent resourceful son needed her and that was the best feeling in the world.
Leaving the laundry room, she made her way into her bedroom and threw open the closet doors. The Chadwick was one of the very fanciest hotels in Miami. There was no way she was going there dressed in the clothes she had worn to crawl around in the attic.
Pulling out white linen trousers and a bright blue silk top, Madeline left them on the bed and then went off to shower before getting changed into her chosen outfit.
One thing was for sure, she was going to have to have words with both Michael and Fiona. They both needed to slow down. She stripped off and tucked her hair inside a shower cap and then stepped under the water cascading down. What was Fiona thinking kidnapping one of Bly's men? And more importantly what was Michael doing letting her do it in the first place?
Cleaned up, the older woman quickly dried herself off before heading back to the bedroom to get dressed in her chosen outfit.
Then again with those two it was possible that good sense had gone out of the window when the boredom had inevitably set in... Michael had always been so difficult whenever he'd gotten bored during his youth. Nate had been the same. By the second week of the summer break, her two boys would be up to their necks in every bit of mischief taking place in the neighborhood.
What they needed was something to keep them busy. Before Michael's return, Fiona had been engrossed in her plans for the new house; however, since her son's reappearance, the younger woman hadn't been out there once. Maybe that would be something to keep them both occupied.
Finishing her ensemble with some matching blue earrings, bangles and bead necklace, Maddie checked out her reflection in the mirror attached to the closet door. All that was required now was a smear of lipstick, some blusher and a dab of her favorite perfume.
Maybe she should take one more trip up into the attic. There was a box up there filled with all her old home décor magazines from the last two decades. Hadn't that nice man on the house flipping show she'd started watching said something about 90's style was coming back?
She was half way across the living room when she came to a stop, her eyes taking in her own home décor as her mind went over the color schemes and designs Fiona had been talking almost non-stop about during their long evenings sitting together while Michael was away.
Maybe on second thought she would leave those magazines where they were and instead stop on the way to the Chadwick and see if there were any new editions of the baby, parenting and style magazines which were rapidly replacing the copies of Soldier of Fortune, Guns & Ammo and Modern Demolition on the younger woman's bedside table.
With that thought in mind, Madeline went to slip on her white sandals when a knock on her door caused her to change her course.
"Madeline Westen?" The tall heavy set middle aged man in a black suit and dark glasses asked when she opened the door.
While Michael's mother could be a little dense sometimes, when it came to spotting trouble in the form of government drones, she was a lot quicker on the uptake. Especially after having been abducted from the Miami Airport on her last return trip from Las Vegas.
"I'm sorry. She's not home right now. You'll have to come back-"
"Nice try, Mrs Westen." Before she could step back, strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm, drawing her out of the house.
"Let go of me!" She attempted to pull away but to no effect as his younger, silent partner took hold of her other arm to aid in the task of dragging her towards the black panel van waiting at the curb. "You can't do this! Let go!"
As she continued to struggle, all she could hope was that her nosy neighbors would call the police if she kicked up enough of a fuss. "Where are you taking me? I need my purse. Let go!"
They rushed her down the sidewalk despite her best efforts to impede their progress.
"Oh, for god's sakes, can you let me get my shoes? You listen to me, your bosses are going to hear about this! Dammit, let me get my shoes!" she yelled as she was pushed into the vehicle. "At least close the front door!"
()()()()()
"Riley's dead," Bly announced. "They just found her body."
"Dead…? How…?"
Michael's clipped response and the way he stepped abruptly away from her side to join the CSS agent across the room brought a far deeper chill to Fiona's soul than the news of Olivia Riley's sudden demise.
"Her body was found at the side of the road, two miles from where she'd been taken. It looks like she was shot once in the back of the head and her body thrown from the vehicle. There are no blood stains or bullet casings at the scene. Not even a single damn footprint... We're looking into who issued the order to have her removed from our custody. Luckily the booking clerk wrote down the name on the paperwork, so we didn't lose everything when the details were wiped but-"
"So far the name doesn't match any department head and the security code, if you've even got it, no longer exists. You can forget tracing the team that took her, they're long gone," Michael had finished the older man's sentence for him.
Fiona stood as if dumbstruck. She had seen that same gleam in Michael's eyes before... The day Jason Bly had turned up at the loft and handed Michael his burn notice dossier... The moment he had discovered Victor was the rogue agent attempting to smash the machine from the inside...
She had heard that same level of intensity in her lover's voice before… His determination, even after she had gone to all the trouble to rescue him from the Ukrainian war criminal Chechik, to do all he could to be Tom Strickler's puppet… His stubborn refusal to just shoot Mason Gilroy and be done with it all... Trying to justify working for the people who had burned him, who had held him captive... and each time it had brought her nothing but heartache.
"Okay, super spy, if we're not going to find any evidence, what do you suggest we do next?
"You need to have your guys go over Riley's statements with a fine tooth comb and scan the video feed of her cell. She must have said or done something, something that has the guy we're after worried enough to risk exposure… Anson told me, he was trying to goad me, show me how smart he was... he said it was my investigation which forced him out into the open. You should also look into the guys you had guarding her; somebody must have talked. Otherwise how did they know where to find her?"
The father of her child was in full spy mode now, striding confidently around the room handing out orders to the man who was supposed to be in charge and the slimy bastard was trotting after the former operative like a trained sheep. There had been a time when watching Michael Westen take charge had been a thrill, but not now, not when it threatened their chance of a life together.
"I don't want to keep ducking this, so let me be straight with you. This job, what we just did, saving American lives, this is the type of work I was made for, Fi. It's what my old job gave me a chance to do every single day. So no, getting back in isn't just a way to survive and protect the people I love. It's what I want... And if you truly care about me, you should damn well want for me what I want for myself."
She remembered those words as if they had been burnt into her brain, she remembered the hurt she had done her best to bury away and mostly she remembered that was the night she had called her oldest brother for the first time in years and had ended up practically begging him for permission to return home.
"I don't suppose there were any witnesses of them dumping the body? Or that any of the local traffic cams caught anything suspicious…? Let me guess, all down, well, there's a surprise."
As Michael continued to grill Bly, she bit down on her still swollen and sore bottom lip and willed the tears that were building to recede. No! They were engaged. He had promised to be there for her and the baby. She was NOT going to give in to another panic attack, dammit!
"I know I agreed to locking this place down, but that was before we knew about Riley. Fiona is right, we can't stay here. It's too risky. I am not going to put my family in danger.
His words warmed her heart and helped clear her head immediately. He wasn't being caught up in the game again; he was just trying to protect them.
"No one is getting up here without my say so. I have men on the ground, guarding the elevator," Bly blustered, finally trying to take back control, though as far as Fiona was concerned the so-called agent in charge had left it too late to corral his asset as Michael refused to be pacified.
"I'm not worried about someone coming up here. I'm worried about a bomb in the basement... I've seen this before, Bly, I've lived it. After Simon Escher almost succeeded in bombing the Epic Hotel, I was arrested. But before I could be charged, I was taken by a group with high level clearance the same way Riley was. Only I ended up in some foreign country in what was described to me as a document storage warehouse that looked a lot like a black site prison."
Fiona shivered internally at the memory of his desperate embrace as he'd tried to tell her where he'd been held once she'd resolved his pouting with a well-placed blow– now she was the one who needed a good slap. She couldn't keep falling apart like this. It could get them both killed.
"You actually believe there's someone out there who would blow up a beach front Miami hotel just to stop your testimony?" the CSS agent scoffed.
"You've read my goddamn dossier! You read all about what happened in Panama..." the ex-spy exploded. "Do you honestly think an Operations Chief however corrupt had the power to order an F14 to bomb a friendly country, especially so close to a town the size of San Miquel?"
Fiona watched as the two men stood only a few feet apart, their eyes locked on each other as they battled for superiority. There was a part of her which longed to stoke the fire and watch the resulting explosion. She had no doubt in her mind that in either a physical battle or a war of words, her lover would be the one to triumph.
"Think about it, Bly! There was no diplomatic blow back. If it hadn't been for Elsa Dearborn dragging Cowley into the mix, the head of the IOC wouldn't have even known about it. Just how does that happen without someone with major resources behind it?"
But another part of her, the part which ever since she had arrived in Miami had been steadily growing stronger, urged her to put an end to the stalemate. Michael might win the battle, but they would still be stuck in what was now nothing more than a fancy death trap. She had more important priorities now than enjoying a good fight, however much she might have relished seeing Michael put the annoying CSS drone firmly in his place.
Taking a deep breath, the petite redhead stepped in between the two men. "Boys, fight or put a sock in it. Bly, Michael's right we need to leave. Correct me if I'm wrong, but with Riley dead, you need Michael in one piece and talking." She turned to face her lover, smiling up at him. "Michael, I know just the spot... I have a little place out west of here, very remote, very well hidden... It's where I keep my more… exotic inventory, so I'm not exactly thrilled about-"
"You want to hide out in the swamp… with alligators, snakes and mosquitoes?" Michael curled his lip in disdain. But before she could get angry with her lover for his casual dismissal of her safe house, Agent Bly opened his mouth.
"I'm not seeing me letting the two of you run loose in the Everglades, though I am interested in hearing more about all the exotic inventory. I understood one of the conditions of Ms. Glenanne's parole to be her staying away from automatic weapons."
Michael must have felt her tense. Because before she got the chance to react his strong arm wrapped about her shoulders, pulling her in close to his side. "The CIA cleared her of all charges and that agreement was torn up... Besides, you were only kidding, weren't you, Fi?"
For a brief second, she thought about bragging on her extensive supply of C-4 and the six crates of FN P-60s among other things she was looking after for a friend, just to see the look on the man who represented everything she hated about the US government right now. But the pleading look she was receiving from the father of her child softened her up enough to remain mute.
"We need to get out of Florida not just Miami and I know somewhere close to DC… solid walls, lots of security and plenty of things to do… heated swimming pools too, spa treatments, five star chef and if it comes down to it– access to a nuclear bunker."
"Nucl-? Westen, you have completely lost your mind."
She was confused, but it was apparent that Jason Bly knew or at least had guessed where Michael was talking about. Her head turned to one and then the other trying to work out where exactly they were talking about.
"It is a tactically sound choice. I was out there in the mid-nineties on a body guard gig. We go on our own, we sign in under false names and if anything happens, I know my way around."
"You know your way around?" Now it was the CSS agent's turn to pace around the living room, being closely followed by her boyfriend who had yet again abandoned her while he fought their corner. "I thought we had discussed this, Westen. You're not the one in charge here and the Greenbrier? You've got to be kidding me..."
"You got a better plan? I'd love to hear something that doesn't get us killed."
"Bill Cowley is itching to get his hands on you and go through your statement since he is risking his whole career on the outcome of this hearing. You think he's going to want to travel to out to the backwoods of West Virginia just to go over your statement?"
"Risking his career…? I think our lives are little more important some—" Fiona began furiously.
"It's the safest place I know," the former spy cut in, holding her tighter. "And knowing Crowley, he'll probably just expense it. But that's not the point. I can't have Cowley showing up and blowing our cover. Nobody wants this over with more than me, Bly, trust me. We can keep in contact on burner phones, but otherwise you need to stay here and keep them focused on you."
The agent in charge scowled at the younger man, his lips set in a thin line as he tried to come up with some reason to dismiss the strategy set before him. "Do you have any idea how much it is going to cost to do this?"
"But I'm worth it…" Michael gave Bly his best cheesy grin. "Believe me, it'll be a lot less than the bill you'd be getting if this hotel gets blown to pieces... I should call Sam, give him a heads up, and my mom, she's supposed to be on her way here now."
"You can call him in a few minutes. Let's go over this little plan of yours in some detail first. And I'll have my men check on your mom if she's not here by the time we're done.
()()()()()()()
Spies come from all walks of life and no two are exactly alike. Whether they are a former operative, a beautiful bomber with a bad temper or a hard drinking ex-SEAL, they all share one trait: punctuality. Showing up on time means you are fifteen minutes late. However, that trait can lead to a lot of stress when you are stuck waiting for a vital communication when your tactical situation has radically changed.
Sam Axe paced impatiently back and forth in front of the video screen set up in his fiancée's home office on the ground floor of her Star Island mansion. Pursing his lips, he ran his hands over his grey sprinkled dark colored hair before rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms in an effort to release the tension, which was rapidly building as he waited for the hands on the wall clock to shift around to eight o' clock... Five more minutes, calm down Axe, just four minutes fifty two – fifty one seconds to go… Easy peasy.
He really shouldn't have been surprised when his plans for a quiet afternoon lounging poolside went to hell. But he guessed he had forgotten to take into account that nothing ever went smoothly when his best friend Michael Westen was involved.
He had been happily lying out in the sun, working on his tan while sipping his way through his third mojito of the day, waiting for the arrangements to be made for his satellite call when his cell phone had begun to vibrate its way across the small table at his side.
"Hey Mike," he'd greeted his friend warmly. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you any time soon. Last I heard you were gonna be on lock down until you testified."
"Yeah, well, a lot has changed in the last hour." And that had been when his best friend had spoken the four little words which were guaranteed to ruin any day. "We have a situation..."
It had only gotten worse from there as the ex-operative had filled him in on the latest developments. Olivia Riley being removed from what was supposed to be a secure federal facility and her dead body showing up just down the road from said facility had definitely counted as a situation. It had also raised a lot of bad memories. Because if the similarity between the death of the counter intelligence ace and that of a certain Czech wet work specialist shortly after Michael's arrival in Miami had sent his best buddy's paranoia levels up to ten, it had sent the former SEAL's to eleven point five.
"Mike, you have to get outta the penthouse now!"
Having spent so many hours thinking about his former lover and the way she had died, it hadn't been a giant leap to connect the dots from the death of one CIA agent being blown up in a hotel bombing thirteen years ago to Simon's attempt to blow up another Miami hotel in order to keep his successor as a tool of management in line to Tom Card's own attempt to kill them all with a Hellfire missile being fired from a F-14 fighter jet.
"We're working on it, Sam... Bly has his guys sweeping the hotel right now and we'll be leaving as soon as we can arrange transport. I was calling to give you a heads up. Things could get bad, Sam. There's a couple of Bly's guys on their way over to you now to help beef up the security at Elsa's and the Coastguard is going be patrolling close by so you'll be safe where you are. What I need for you to do is keep your head down and stay out of the line of fire, just like St Petersburg. You hear me, Sam? Your arm is not 100% yet and we've caused Elsa enough problems."
Six months ago facing an unknown enemy however powerful would not have phased the former naval special forces commander one bit. After all taking on gun toting lunatics on a near weekly basis was all part of the thrill of being one of the top three numbers on Mike Westen's speed dial, but the thought of Elsa being at his side when the lead started flying had filled him with dread.
Even so, the military man had been momentarily stunned that his best buddy had been trying to bench him... That was before what the ex-spy had really been trying to tell him had sunk in.
What Mikey had really wanted him to do was stay on the trail of whoever Rayna passed her intel on to. With Riley gone, finding out what Rayna knew was their only lead.
"You sure, Mikey?" Sam had asked for the benefit of whoever might have been listening in.
He had to do it because not only was the younger man his closest friend and brother in arms, but also because, even though it meant putting Elsa in danger, now that his lady was on the radar of the bad guys ending this was the only way to make sure she stayed safe.
"Your job is to stay with Elsa and stay out of it. I don't need you two becoming collateral damage. Bly and the CSS have this under control."
Sam could just imagine what it had cost his buddy to have to say those words aloud.
"He better or he's gonna be collateral damage. Listen, Mikey, you make sure you and Fi keep your heads down too... No getting killed before we cross the finish line here. You got me? When this hearing goes down, you need to nail these bastards to the wall and finish it this."
"I will, I promise you. Thanks Sam. I'll call you when this is over."
In the end, regardless of all the bad news, it had been good to hear from his best friend and to hear him sounding so much more like his old self. He had been getting worried about Mike ever since he had seen him for the first time after the spy had run out on them in Tallahassee.
Card had certainly done a number on his former trainee, but now it seemed like the death of Olivia Riley had finally brought Mike's fire back.
Slumping down onto Elsa's large comfy leather couch, Sam couldn't resist checking the time yet again, this time on his lady's engagement gift to him, an eighteen thousand dollar Bvlgari Diagono time piece with its 22 carat gold and diamond encrusted strap... Damn, still two minutes and thirty six seconds to go… if Sandy's former trainee was still following the example set by his first supervisor.
"Sam, you're making me even more nervous than I was before… if that's possible."
The former commander managed with only a supreme effort not to jump as his lady love's slender hand landed on his shoulder and her soft lips glanced over his cheek.
"Sorry, baby. Come here and sit down with me." He hid his nerves behind a wide flirty smile and patted the space beside him. "Our part will be over with soon. Bly's upping our security detail and I can't tell you how happy I am right now knowing that Mikey has finally gotten his head back in the game. I gotta tell ya, that guy had me worried, the way he was disconnecting. Riley being killed was just the kick he needed to get his butt back in gear."
"If you say so..." The brunette slipped down beside her lover, snuggling in close to his side "And once this call is over with, we're free to get on with our lives?"
"Not exactly, baby. I might have to follow up on a few things and to be honest until all this is cleared up we might be safer staying put. We're in a great position here. Nobody gets on or off the island without going through a check point, we can see anyone approaching by sea before they get anywhere near close," he tried to reassure the woman he loved. "And just in case, Bly has the Coast Guard patrolling offshore."
He was in the process of drawing her into an embrace when the big screen on the wall fluttered to life, the picture rolling several times before coming into focus.
There on the screen before them was Steven Benson, not the fresh faced agent wearing brand new immaculate fatigues he had met over twenty five years ago on a Turkish airfield, but the world weary face of an experienced and slightly jaded man who had seen too much in his lifetime.
"G'day Miz Dearbon, I'm Steven Benson with the U.S. Consulate and I have here that you requested a video conference? The Embassy doesn't usually take requests for secure emergency calls from private companies, so I'm guessing you have some very important friends." The Company man zeroed all his attention on the woman who had made the arrangements for an emergency conference with the head of security for the US Embassy in Canberra.
"I do, Mr. Benson." Elsa straightened up and moved slightly away from the man at her side. "But before we start can I have your assurance that you are alone and that nobody else is listening into our conversation? You must understand I am the CEO of a large hotel chain and I owe my clients a duty to be discrete when discussing their needs."
Sam had to stifle a chuckle at the way the man on the screen fought his own battle not to roll his eyes at the necessity of being polite to civilians. He didn't have to have the ability to read minds to know that the younger man was thinking… that this was going to be about some celebrity or minor member of foreign dignitaries with their outrageous and, in the scheme of things, inconsequential demands.
"I can assure you, ma'am, we are alone and as head of security the only person monitoring my calls is myself, so-?"
Sam took that as his cue and sat forward, gesturing with a squeeze of his hand over his fiancée's fingers to signal for her to leave. "This call isn't about some celebrity wanting to smuggle his little dog into the country... Hey Benson, do you remember me?"
"I'm sorry, sir – " the younger man squinted at the screen and then slowly recognition showed on his scarred features. "Axe? Lieutenant Commander Sam Axe?"
"It was Commander, but I'm retired now so plain old Sam will do."
"I – sorry sir, but what is this about? I was told this call was to assist in what could turn into a diplomatic disaster of epic proportions."
"Sorry for the subterfuge, buddy, but it was necessary. It's about among other things Rayna Kopec, you remember her? And what happened to her."
The younger man frowned and leaned forward in his chair before carefully looking around as if checking he was alone. "Yeah, she was very supportive after I was injured... I, er, I never believed the official company line, sir. I mean, last time I spoke to her she told me she'd found a corner piece of the puzzle she'd been trying to solve for years... I took it she'd finally gotten a solid lead on that cabal of former agents she'd been looking into. But then a week later she's dead. It just seemed too damned convenient to me. I tried looking you up, but all I got was the run around and then some heavy hitter from Langley warned me to back off."
That was interesting. "This heavy hitter, did they give you a name or a department?"
"No, it was a big black guy, very smooth, but I got the message."
That had to have been Vaughn… Sam felt a burning rage at the man who was now living out the rest of his years locked up with no chance of parole and then pushed it down. If it had been Vaughn, then that confirmed his former lover had indeed discovered something important.
"Do you have any idea what she'd found out?"
"No, no, you know how she was. She never actually came out and said. But I do know she was getting ready to hand her findings up the line. But she was trying to decide who to trust."
"This is real important, Benson. Do you know if she might have talked to anybody else about what she suspected, anyone she might have trusted with her intel?"
"Jeez, it was a long time ago." Sam watched as the younger man sat back in his chair, his disfigured face going blank as he became lost in his thoughts.
"Kay Anderson... Rayna, er, Ms. Kopec always spoke fondly of her old training officer. She was some sort of mother figure. Is that the right word? I sent her a parcel once. Back in '94 before I left for my Balkans posting, it was one of the last things I did for her, I sent a box to an address in West Virginia.. er, Vienna, West Virginia. Sorry, that's all I've got."
Bingo! Sam slapped the arm of the couch and then quickly reached for the note pad and pen Elsa had left for him. "Tell me everything you remember about Kay Anderson of Vienna, oh and also the sonuvabitch who warned you off from looking into Rayna's death, too."
Now, they were getting somewhere! A chance to finally pay back the bastards who'd had Rayna killed and put an end to all this bullshit… now that was worth more than his watch!