A/N: When Eleventh Hour premiered, the producers were criticized for casting Marley Shelton as Special Agent Young, She was too thin, too pretty; she looked like a model not an FBI agent. Stephen Gallagher wrote on his blog that he found this amusing. In the UK there was a television program that took celebrities and trained them for jobs wildly different than their current ones. In one episode, a model underwent bodyguard training; hand-to hand combat, shooting, evasive driving, etc. To everyone's amazement, she did extremely well. The company training her actually offered her a job. They thought she'd be perfect for "executive protection."

Thus a story idea was born.

This story is set shortly after the episode Minamata, as Felix has only recently joined the team.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As they approached the Director's office Special Agent Rachel Young murmured "Are you sure you don't know what this is about?"

Jacob Hood glanced at her, annoyed, "I told you, no. I have no idea what Frank wants."

Rachel grimaced and tried to think of what Hood could have done to draw the Director's attention. Usually, when a new case came in, the Director would call or email one of them with the details. When Hood went to see the Director, she never accompanied him. She wondered what was going on to have them both summoned to the Director's office.

Jacob, seeing the look of concentration on Rachel's face, smiled. "Relax; you look as if we're being called into the principal's office."

Hood's remark made her smile and shake her head. They had been working together for a little more than a year but she still couldn't get over how he seemed to be able to read her mind. She was feeling like she did in high school when the principal called her into his office to scold her for some peccadillo. Even so, she couldn't help wonder exactly what could have happened to have them both pulled in for a session with the Director. Her eyes widened when she saw her boss, Tyler C. McGruder leaning against the Director's desk

"Jacob, Young, have a seat." The Director waved them to the empty chairs in front of his desk. Frank grinned at Jacob, "I've got good news and bad news."

"That's never funny," Jacob said, nodding to Ty as he slid into a chair. "What's going on?"

"We, you and I, have been invited to the Columbian Embassy. Pretty big affair, dinner, dancing the works ..." He trailed off at Jacob's groan.

"That's the bad news, so what's the good news?"

"Actually, that is the good news," Frank said crisply. "So quite complaining and let me finish. Juan Manuel Alvarado, a senator from Columbia, is in town. According to the ambassador, he's expressed an interest in meeting our Special Science Advisor. He's making noises about establishing something like that in Columbia." He shook his head at the skeptical look on Jacob's face. "Yeah, not likely, with all the problems they have down there."

"He's the reason for the big do at the embassy," Ty put in. "He's a hot shot in the government but word from the CIA is that he's got ties, deep ties, to the drug business down there. We're afraid that's what's behind his interest in you."

"What? That's ridiculous. I don't have anything to do with drugs." Jacob paused, "well, not illegal ones."

Rachel, Frank, and Ty exchanged glances. Before Rachel could remind Hood about the PCP case in Texas, Ty broke in.

"Yeah, you do, your work busted up a drug-smuggling ring in Texas, remember?"

"Well yeah, but that was PCP," Jacob protested. "The Columbians don't….

Ty cut him off. "No, the Columbians don't export PCP. But that biker gang was the major distributor of cocaine and marijuana for the Columbians in the southwest. The PCP was a sideline; they sold some but mostly they used it to enhance the marijuana"

Jacob silently digested this, he vaguely remembered Rachel saying something along those lines at the time. "I still don't see what this has to do with me. And this Alvarado, surely the CIA is mistaken. He's a member of their government."

"His family is one of the leading members of the bandas criminals, a right-wing paramilitary group that supplanted the drug cartels in the 90s. They have tremendous influence in the government. Publically he's distanced himself from them, he ran for office as a member of the progressive party." Frank said.

"Ok, fine, but still," Jacob persisted, "what's the big deal? Why don't you think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know," Frank said, "and that bothers me. I don't buy this shit that he wants to establish a science advisor position in Columbia; they have more pressing needs. The timing stinks too. He gets this bug up his ass after you disrupt his family's business?"

Jacob's was still skeptical, "but that case in Texas was months ago surely …

Ty chimed in. "I agree with Frank on this one. Yeah, it was months ago but you know what they say; revenge is a dish best served cold. I've checked into his public record, he's never expressed a damned interest in anything related to science before. His wanting to meet you is fishy."

Jacob blinked, "Um, well, then maybe I shouldn't go to, maybe I should leave town until he's back in Columbia."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I think the idea is for you to sound him out, try to figure out what he's up to."

Ty nodded approvingly. "Exactly. We don't want to offend the Columbians, make them re-think their cooperation with the DEA."

Jacob sighed; the last thing he wanted was to attend a formal embassy function. "What's the bad news?"

"It like this," Frank began, hesitantly. "You do know that an embassy is foreign territory."

This time it was Jacob rolling his eyes. "Yes, I was sitting next to you in that public policy class back at Princeton. What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with our security, yours and mine, but mostly yours." Frank said. "Usually when any of us goes to an embassy function we don't bring in our own security; it would be an insult to our hosts. Normally that wouldn't be a problem. But in this case, with Alvarado showing an unhealthy interest in you, I'm not comfortable with you going in without someone to watch your back."

"Which," broke in Ty smoothly, "leads us to Agent Young here."

Rachel stiffened as all three men turned to look at her. 'Oh shit, no, no, they can't mean…'

"When the Ambassador extended the invitation, he assured me it included my wife," Frank said. "I thanked him and asked about you," Frank flushed a bit. "I, uh, told him you weren't married but you had a, um, partner."

Rachel snuck a look at Hood and was unsurprised at the look of dismay on his face. 'Shit, he hates this more than me. How could the Director do this to him? They're supposed to be friends, doesn't he realize even a pretend date would hurt him?' She cleared her throat. "With all due respect sir, do you really think this is necessary? I hardly think Alvarado will try anything in the middle of a party."

"Why not?" Ty countered, "He could pull out a gun and shoot Hood in front of the whole damned crowd and we couldn't touch him."

"That's not the point," Frank said irritably. He faced Rachel, "No, I don't think Alvarado will try anything." He turned to Ty, "and I'm not expecting Young to prevent an assassination attempt. What I do want is for someone to have an excuse to stick to Jacob's side all night and listen in on all of his conversations."

"Why?" Jacob said.

Frank looked at Jacob, puzzled, "why what?"

"Why do you need someone to listen in on my conversations?" Jacob said patiently. "I'm perfectly capable of letting you know what this Alvarado and I talked about at the end of the evening."

"Because you don't always listen," Frank retorted. "You get bored at these things and zone out. Plus," he tilted his head, "your Spanish is pretty much nonexistent. Alvarado could say something significant right in front of you and you'd miss it." He continued over Jacob's sputtering, "which is why Young is perfect for this; as your, uh, date, she'd naturally stay with you and her Spanish is pretty good."

Rachel shrugged when Hood looked at her, surprised. "I grew up in Arizona, I'm not super fluent but I get by."

"Still," Jacob argued.

"I'm sorry Jacob, but my mind is made up," Frank cut him off. He stood to indicate the meeting was over. "The affair is tomorrow night, I suggest you go home and make sure your tux is presentable."

Rachel discreetly hauled Hood to his feet and hustled him out of the office, McGruder on their heels.

"Wait!" Jacob complained. He tried to turn, "I'm not through talking to Frank..."

"Yes, yes, you are," Rachel interrupted. "Look, I'm no happier than you are about this situation, but it's clear the Director has his mind made up. So I suggest you do what he says."

"Before you escort Dr. Hood home," Ty said, "I'd like to talk to you Young, uh, and you too Hood." He looked around, "uh, why don't the two of you come to my office."

Rachel and Jacob exchanged a glance, mystified, but they willingly followed him down the hall.

Ty carefully closed the door behind them. "I know Director Fuller wants Young at this damn fool party merely as an observer, but I have to be honest with both of you, it makes me uncomfortable.

Jacob's eyebrows rose, "Why is that Ty? What do you know that Frank isn't telling me?"

"Nothing," the other man assured him, "It's just," he rubbed his nose, "I don't completely trust this situation. I'd be a damn sight happier if Young here went in armed."

"No problem," Rachel shrugged. "I'll put my weapon in my purse."

"The problem," Ty said, "is that you can't take your Glock." He waved his hand as Rachel opened her mouth, "or any weapon you might have. The Columbians make everyone who comes into their embassy go through a metal detector, they search any purses or bags. If you tried to bring in a normal weapon it would blow your cover."

"What do you suggest, sir."

Ty gave Rachel a smug smile, as he reached into his desk drawer. "I suggest you carry this baby."

Rachel's face lit up at the sight of the weapon handed to her. It was small, sleek, and made completely of plastic. "Ohhh, I've heard of plastic guns but I've never seen one before."

"Yeah, I got it from an old Marine buddy who works with DARPA. A 3D printer makes 'em and it fires .22 caliber bullets. It's 100% plastic;" he smiled at Rachel, "which means it won't set off their metal detector." His smile dimmed, "but you can't put it in your purse, they'll still search it; you'll have to use a thigh holster."

Rachel's brows drew together, "I have one, but," she turned the gun over in her hand, "I'm not sure I have a dress that would conceal this."

Ty laughed, "I will personally approve the reimbursement for a new dress."

Rachel smiled faintly, a thoughtful look on her face. "Um, that might not be necessary, sir, I think I know where I can borrow one."

"A plastic gun?" Jacob was intrigued, "how does that work? Does it fire plastic bullets?"

"Naw," Ty replied, "it used standard ammunition."

"What good is it then?" Jacob objected. "What good is an unloaded gun? The metal detectors will pick up the bullets."

"Which is why," Ty said, "Young will have this in her purse." He handed Rachel a gold compact.

Rachel's eyebrow rose at the weight of it in her hand.

"Lead lined," Ty explained. "Open it up."

When Rachel snapped open the compact she saw a small indentation. Pressing on it revealed a small compartment with two bullets. "Nice." She grinned at Ty, "should I start calling you Q?"

Ty returned her grin, "You'll have to slip away once your inside to load it, but that should only take a few minutes."

Rachel slipped the weapon into her bag, "I'll practice loading it tonight," she promised.

Ty grunted his approval and ushered them out of his office. "Good, and remember, we'll keep this little detail between us."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jacob stared out of his apartment window, not really seeing the lights of the building opposite. Instead, he was brooding over Rachel's remark after they left Frank's office, 'I'm no happier than you are about this situation.' That, along with her look of dismay when Frank announced she would be his date, bothered him. To be more precise, it bothered him that he wasn't sure why it bothered her.

Frank's suggestion had dismayed him. Since the beginning of their partnership he told everyone, including himself, that his and Rachel's relationship was strictly professional. However, in the past few months, things had gotten a little more … personal. They were beginning to share bits and pieces of their past lives, were developing inside jokes, teasing each other. He was realizing that he enjoyed being with Rachel. Not with Agent Young, with Rachel. She was smart, funny, attractive, and . . . . Jacob's mind sputtered to a halt. This situation, as Rachel called it, was truly blurring the line between professional and personal. The idea of spending an evening with her, when most likely nothing work related would happen, was . . . intriguing.

His problem was that he wasn't sure what Rachel's problem with this ersatz date was. Was her distaste professional? Because she objected to a blurring of the lines? Or was it personal? Did she find it awkward because there was already someone in her life, someone she did go on dates with? Or was it the idea of going on a date with him she found distasteful?

Jacob snorted in annoyance; he didn't have enough data to come to any conclusions so to pursue this line of thought was unproductive. Sighing, he went to dig out his tux, to see if he had a clean dress shirt.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Amanda Carruthers was puzzled, "why do you need to borrow a dress? You have some great ones of your own."

"I told you," Rachel explained patiently, "none of them are right for this kind of thing, I mean, this is a work function. I don't have anything appropriate."

"What about that red one? You look fabulous in it."

Rachel pictured herself in the red dress; yes, she did look fabulous in it. But the very low neckline and almost non-existent back made her look a little too fabulous.

"Shit, Amanda, I can't wear something like that. Like I said, this is a work thing. Not only will my boss be there, my boss's boss will be too."

She carefully didn't include Hood's name in the list of people not to be shocked by her appearance. Amanda and her other friends were already curious about her relationship with Hood; she didn't want any speculation about why she was reluctant to wear a revealing dress in his presence. She also didn't want to explain her reluctance. That she was hesitant to wear a dress that might give Hood the wrong impression; that she was trying to attract his interest, well, personally. 'It would make him uncomfortable, like I was trying to hit on him or something.'

Amanda's eyebrows shot up, "and what? My wardrobe is dowdy enough not to shock your bosses?"

Rachel laughed and hugged her friend, "you know that's not it. I thought one of those old-fashioned dresses you like would be perfect."

"They're called vintage Rach," Amanda sniffed. "Let's see what suits you."

Rachel followed Amanda into her bedroom, outlining her requirements, "nothing to revealing, nothing to form-fitting, preferably something in black?"

"Just get undressed; I'll pick out a couple for you to try on."

Amanda rummaged through her walk-in closet, considering and rejecting dresses. She came back into the bedroom holding three dresses and gaped at Rachel. Her friend was standing there dressed in a bra, panties, and with a beige lace band, similar to a garter, around her thigh. Instead of holding up a stocking though, it contained a gun.

"What the hell! You're wearing a gun to a party?"

Rachel sighed, "I told you, this is a work thing. I'm there in my official capacity as a bodyguard."

Amanda narrowed her eyes, "Official, huh, then how come you need a dress?"

Rachel sighed harder, "Um, they're sending me in undercover, it's an embassy party and the Columbians would be insulted if we provided our own security. So I need a dress that will hide the fact I'm armed."

This time Amanda's eyes widened, "you're going undercover? You mean you're pretending to be that Dr. Hood of yours' date?"

"Kinda" Rachel mumbled. "And he's not my Dr. Hood. So, what do you have?"

Amanda looked at the dresses over her arm and made a quick decision. "None of these will do. The fabrics drape, they'd show a bulge on your leg." She smiled, "I think I have the perfect outfit for you."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Rachel hesitated briefly before raising her hand to knock on Hood's door. She hated this entire situation, the dress, pretending to be his date, everything. It had taken time to quash the gossip that arose at her continued success as his handler; she hated to think that all of her hard work would be undone in a single evening.

"I know," she snapped, noting the look of surprise on his face at her appearance. "I look ridiculous."

"No, you, ah, look nice." Jacob said.

She flushed as Director Fuller appeared at Hood's shoulder and gave a bark of laughter. "Nice? She looks like the sweetheart of Sigma Chi in that get-up."

Her humiliation was complete as McGruder strolled over and drawled, "I don't know about that but she sure doesn't look like an FBI agent."

Before Rachel could react, she heard an indignant female voice. "Honestly," Karen Fuller fumed. "Don't any of you have any fashion sense?" She smiled at Rachel, "you must be Agent Young, I'm Karen Fuller. She twirled her finger in the air, "let me get a good look at you."

Rachel looked doubtful but did as directed allowing Karen Fuller to scrutinize the outfit Amanda has chosen for her. The dress was pink organza and the strapless bodice had a sweetheart neckline. The full skirt billowed out over a net petticoat. A line of pink satin roses with green satin leaves curved down the front of the dress from over her left breast to under her right hip. Her shoes were pink satin pumps with stiletto heels. Her long, blond hair was curled and held off her face by a pink satin band with matching roses. Her earrings and necklace were pink crystal hearts. Rachel thought she looked as if she was headed to a 1950s era prom.

Karen let out a sigh of pleasure, "I love your outfit; the retro look suits you."

Rachel smiled gratefully at the older woman, relieved at the approval on her face. Maybe she didn't look as stupid in this girly outfit as she feared. "Thank you ma'am," she replied shyly. "You look great too."

Karen looked down at her gray lace dress and sniffed, "This? Don't feel like you have to be polite, it's "Staid Washington Matron", designed not to offend." She smiled at Rachel's gurgle of laughter and linked her arm through Rachel's, "best if you call me Karen, and I'll call you Rachel." She winked, "that way we won't blow your cover." Drawing Rachel to the door, she looked over her shoulder at the three men, "well boys, let's get this show on the road."

An annoyed look crossed Rachel's face as she realized McGruder was accompanying them. 'That bastard! Putting me through this for no good...'

McGruder's lips twitched at the look on Young's face. He bet he could read her mind. "A moment please, I'd like to have a word with Young first. He drew Rachel into the next room.

"You're going with us," Rachel said indignantly, "I thought . . . "

"I'm the driver." He tilted his head, "I thought I'd give the Director's detail the night off. Figured the fewer people who know about your undercover work the better." His expression turned stern, "I don't appreciate gossip, it's divisive, hurts the unit. Any questions Young?"

Rachel's eyebrows rose, "No sir." 'Well shit, maybe I had some help quashing the gossip about me and Hood.'

"Good, like the lady said, let's get this show on the road."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Nursing a flute of champagne, Rachel looked around the embassy garden, impressed in spite of herself. She never accompanied Hood to any of the social events he attended and, as she herself wasn't one to frequent the diplomatic circuit, she wasn't sure what to expect. She laughed quietly to herself as she realized she'd been half-expecting something like the embassy ball scene in the movie My Fair Lady.

Instead, this was more along the lines of an elegant, exclusive dinner party. Rachel estimated that there were slightly more than two dozen people present. Along with Hood and the Director, there were some heavy Washington names. She recognized two senators, a congresswoman, and the senior partner of one of the most influential law firm slash lobbying organizations in the city.

The dinner was being held in the garden, which was lush. The trees and bushes were stung with lights; several tables draped in white linen and sparkling with crystal and china sat around a small dance floor. No one was dancing, but a small band was softly playing as waiters passed flutes of champagne and appetizers.

Rachel slipped her arm from under Hood's, snagged another canapé, and popped it into her mouth. Her arm immediately went back to encircling Hood's.

Jacob's lips twitched as he sipped his champagne. It always amused him that someone so disciplined and fit had such appalling eating habits. Before he could comment Rachel leaned into him and whispered, "Here comes Alvarado."

This wasn't the first time Juan Manuel Alvarado approached Hood. Rachel had slipped into the woman's restroom the moment they cleared security to load her weapon. Repeated practice the night before made it possible for her to load it and return it to her thigh holster in less than five minutes. She wasn't surprised to see that Alvarado had buttonholed Hood in that brief time. She immediately attached herself to Hood like a limpet to Alvarado's thinly suppressed annoyance.

Hood greeted Alvarado. "Good evening again, Senor Alvarado," his lips twitched, "lovely party, isn't it?"

Alvarado smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yes, it is." Ignoring Rachel, he directed his conversation at Hood. "I understand you're the foremost expert in the country in cytology."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jacob said, "I mean, Mark Schiller at Columbia is doing the really ground-breaking work in that area these days." He looked at Alvarado curiously, "is that an area of interest of yours?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied. "I was hoping you could bring me up to speed on the topic," he hesitated at the puzzled looks both Rachel and Jacob's faces. "Uh, my family has been approached to fund some work in that area in my country."

Dinner was announced and to Rachel's un-surprise, she and Hood were not only seated at Alvarado's table, but she was seated beside the man, with Hood on her other side. All through dinner, Alvarado talked over her, peppering Hood with questions, monopolizing his attention. As she sat there, enjoying the dinner, she listened thoughtfully to the two men. She was beginning to doubt the Director and McGruder's fears. It sure seemed to her that Alvarado's interest in Hood was scientific in nature.

She was toying with the idea of stealing Hood's neglected dessert when a member of the Columbian delegation approached Alvarado.

"Perdóneme señor, hay un problema con los sustancia química, necesita" … Pardon me, sir, there's a problem with the chemicals, you need …

Alvarado cut the man off, "No aquí, espérame adentro, estaré allí en breve." Not here, wait for me inside, I'll be there shortly.

Only Rachel's training kept her head from snapping up at this exchange. She narrowed her eyes; it looked as if the Director and McGruder were right after all. She needed to fill Hood in on this development as soon as possible. Her train of thought was interrupted as she realized that, dinner over, people were moving about, leaving their tables. She silently sucked in her breath when she heard Alvarado inviting Hood inside for an after dinner drink and cigar, "just us gentlemen."

To Rachel's relief, before Hood could answer the small band began to play again and a few couples took to the dance floor. She stood and grabbed Hood by the arm.

"Oh, baby, they're playing our song," she cooed. "Dance with me." She smiled sweetly at Alvarado as she dragged Hood out onto the floor.

Rachel was pulled from her contemplation of Alvarado's frustrated face by the realization that Hood was steering her around the dance floor in a more than competent foxtrot.

"You can foxtrot?" She blurted, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

"What? I'm a scientist so I'm not allowed to be interested in anything else?" Jacob raised an eyebrow. "I could return the question, you can foxtrot?"

Rachel lifted an eyebrow in return. "What? I'm an agent so I'm not allowed to be interested in anything else?"

"Touché." His lips twitched into a small smile, "but from the little you've let drop about your background I assumed you were a tomboy growing up, took karate not dance lessons."

Rachel grinned. "I was and I did. It's because I was a tomboy I ended up in cotillion all three years of junior high. My dad insisted to keep his sister off his back."

She elaborated at Jacob's puzzled look, "My aunt kept pestering my father, saying I was growing up to be a hellion and needed to learn how to be a lady."

"She wasn't a feminist I take it?"

"She meant well," Rachel said. "It was my bad luck I kept getting suspended from school right before cotillion signups." She smiled at the memory. "I was in sixth grade when Alan Wentworth said I couldn't play soccer with the boys 'cause girls couldn't kick hard enough. So I kicked him in the shins."

"That hardly seems a suspend-able offence," Jacob protested.

"I was wearing my soccer cleats at the time."

"Ouch! Seventh grade?"

"Alan said I couldn't pitch in a pick-up baseball game during recess 'cause girls couldn't throw straight."

"You didn't!"

"Yep, hit him with my first pitch." At Hood's expression, she defended herself, "it was just in the shoulder!"

Jacob shook his head smiling. "What did you do to that poor boy in eight grade?"

"That's the year I broke his nose."

"You …. what? What could he say to deserve that?"

"He didn't say anything; he tried to put his hand up my shirt so I punched him." She smiled reminiscently, "we both got suspended that year."

With a laugh, Jacob twirled Rachel. She came back into his arms and asked "So, what about you?

"Umm," Jacob missed a step. Ahh..., it was bucket list kind of thing." He immediately changed the subject; he didn't want to tell her it was an item on Maggie's bucket list, not his. "So what brought about this sudden interest in our dancing together?"

Rachel's smile vanished for an instant; remembering they were likely being watched, she plastered a pleasant expression on her face. "I needed to talk to you ASAP, this seemed the best place." She tilted her head toward the other dancers, "the floor is pretty empty, so I thought we could talk privately here."

The song finished but another began almost immediately so they kept dancing. Looking over Hood's shoulder, Rachel could see Alvarado watching them impatiently.

"Just as we were finishing dessert, someone from the embassy approached Alvarado."

Jacob nodded, "yes, I couldn't make out what he said, could you?"

Rachel found it hard to keep the smiled pinned on her face. "Yeah, something about a problem with chemicals and they needed him inside. So yeah, when Alvarado tried to get you to go with him alone, I was kinda concerned. I think maybe I should develop a headache, you can tell him you need to take me home."

Jacob smiled for their audience but disagreed. "He'll never believe that, why would we be dancing if you had a headache?"

"You're right," Rachel admitted. "Ow," she said loudly as she listed to one side. "You stepped on my foot."

Jacob gaped at her but lent her his arm as Rachel limped off the dance floor. Alvarado was waiting for them as they approached the table.

Rachel sank into a chair and began to massage her ankle. "Honey, I think I hurt my ankle, maybe we should go?" She didn't miss the flash of anger on Alvarado's face.

"Yes, maybe we should." Jacob turned to Alvarado, "I'll have to take a raincheck on the brandy and cigar."

"Of course," Alvarado tone oozed sympathy. "How unfortunate that you have to cut the night short." Chatting with Jacob, he accompanied them toward the entrance to the gardens. "Why don't I send my man to let the Fullers know you're leaving early?"

"Oh no," Rachel protested, "we'll find Frank and Karen…"

Alvarado smiled down at her, "nonsense, you shouldn't be walking around on a bad ankle." He nodded to the man next to him who silently vanished into the crowd. Offering Rachel a hand he said, "Please, my man will have a car summoned for you, let me help you inside."

Reluctantly, Rachel allowed Alvarado to lead her and Hood into the Columbian Embassy.

"Why don't we have that brandy and cigar while we're waiting," Alvarado said. He mouth kicked up at the mutinous look on Rachel's face, "well at least the brandy."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

They never got the brandy; as soon as they walked into the embassy Hood was buttonholed first by the ambassador and then by the ambassador's wife. Rachel could see that the interruptions were bothering Alvarado and it made her uneasy. She had a bad moment when Alvarado, seeing that the ambassador's wife was taking her time in seeing Hood off, offered her a chair. She looked at him blankly for a moment and he whispered, "So you can take the strain off your injured ankle." She smiled her thanks and sat down. She was relieved when Alvarado's assistant returned to say that their ride was ready.

"Allow me to assist you Senorita Young," Alvarado said.

Jacob held out his hand, "Oh, no, I've got her," He smiled down at Rachel, "after all; it's my clumsiness that caused the problem." Leaning down he grasped Rachel's arm, helping her to rise.

"Thanks baby," Rachel rose and kept Hood's arm tucked firmly in hers. There was no way she was allowing Alvarado to separate them. She stiffened a bit when Hood slid an arm around her waist.

"Lean on me," he urged, "you need to keep your weight off that ankle."

She stiffened more when she realized Alvarado and his man were leading them down a corridor that led deeper into the embassy. "This isn't the way to the front door," she said sharply. She flushed, trying to soften her tone. "I'd rather not walk any further than necessary,"

"This is actually a short-cut," Alvarado said. "We're meeting your car in the garage that will save you the long walk down the driveway."

Rachel smiled and nodded but the further they got from the noise of the party, the more she worried. Entering the dimly lit garage, she feared the Director and McGruder's concerns were well founded; the only car there was a black sedan with darkly tinted windows. Looking quickly around she was relieved to see that on one issue Alvarado had been truthful; the garage opened onto the street. If she could get Hood there he would be safely in U.S. territory.

She turned toward Alvarado quickly, the maneuver putting Hood slightly behind her. "What's going on?" she said loudly. "That's not our car. And where are the Fuller's?"

Alvarado's smile didn't dim. "They weren't ready to leave; I'm sending you off in an embassy car."

"That doesn't sound right," Jacob protested. "Frank hates these affairs, I'm sure …" He took his cell phone out of his pocket.

Alvarado snapped. Enough! For heaven's sake, just get in the car and I'll explain everything."

Alvarado's man grabbed Rachel by the arm. Rather than pulling away, Rachel allowed the man to draw her closer. Once she was in up against him, she raised her leg and jammed the stiletto heel of her shoe into the side of his leg. He went down with a howl of pain, grasping his leg, blood seeping out between his fingers.

With a flurry of skirts, Rachel pulled her gun and aimed it straight at Alvarado.

"Yes, it's real and yes I will shoot," she said coldly. "Hood, run! Get out to the street."

"Not without you," Jacob protested.

"Damn it," Rachel growled, "I said run. Go."

Jacob turned toward the street, took a few steps, and stopped. 'I'm not going without her.' He turned back and froze in fear. Neither he nor Rachel had considered that there might be a driver in the car. Jacob shouted a warning but it was too late.

Rachel, concentrating on Alvarado, never heard the man come up behind her. She half turned when Hood shouted but by then she felt an arm go around her waist and the tip of a very sharp blade press against her throat.

Jacob made a sound of protest and started forward, he checked himself at Alvarado's words.

"Dr. Hood, I suggest you remain perfectly still. Senorita Young raise your hands and neither you nor Doctor Hood will be harmed." Rachel obediently raised her hands; she was outmanned, surrendering was the only way to keep Hood safe now.

Alvarado kicked his man on the ground. "Levántate y consigue esa pistola." 'Get up and get that gun.'

Sullenly, the man rose to his feet, and limping slightly he approached Rachel and grabbed the gun from her upraised hand. He was about to strike her but Alvarado spat out a command; he glared but dropped his arm.

"Ate sus manos y llévelas al almacén. Te veré allí más tarde" 'Tie their hands and take them to the warehouse. I'll meet you there later.' He smiled at Rachel and said softly, "You should be glad that I don't tell him to confiscate your shoes."

Shaking his head, he walked back through the garage to return to the party.