Entangled

by Ndfarmer80

Pre LFN: Walter tells the story of the mission that brought Simone and Michael together

3. Part 3

Part 3

"Heading out?"

Walter pulled down the roll gate to Munitions and secured the lock. He looked over his shoulder and saw Nikita pull out her car keys and sigh. It was late in the evening and much of the day's missions were done save a few that were still in progress. Michael stood in Communications hovering over Birkoff, looking intensely at the above monitors detailing a mission in play. Walter could not help but marvel at the man that Michael had become in such a short time. If he did not know better, he would have thought Madeline had found a way to replace the old Michael with this new and improved model.

"I thought I'd head out for drinks before going home," said Nikita. "Would you like to join? I'm very interested in hearing the finale of your drama."

Walter smiled, enjoying the idea of going on a date, even if it was just to tell a story, with Nikita. He tossed another wary glance back towards Michael, ensuring he was still properly fixed at Communications. Even though he knew Michael would not likely do anything to dissuade him from escorting Nikita outside, he did not want to test the theory. He was more than aware of Michael and the telling shift of his bone-chilling stare. He had never been on the receiving end of it, and he didn't want to start now. He walked a few paces in front of Nikita so as not to give the semblance that they were together. Michael's eyes were not the only ones he wanted to avoid as well. Above them, Operations glared down, watchful as always. Once they were out of view of the cameras, Walter relaxed and threw Nikita a smile. He was glad she knew exactly what it was that he was doing and did not ask questions. They were both very aware of the kind of attention the appearance of camaraderie gained from Section.

"Your place or mine?" Walter teased with a wag of his eyebrows.

"How about Renaud's. I hear it's quaint," said Nikita with a sly grin.

"Renaud's it is, my dear."

---

Walter pulled out a seat for Nikita before settling down into the chair opposite her. The waiter, a gangly looking young man with pimples covering his face, approached the table and, in a cracking voice, asked for their drink order.

"Scotch for me. Plain," said Walter.

"I'll just take a water," said Nikita, then, catching Walter's curious look, she added, "And a glass of chardonnay."

The young man walked away to get their drinks. Nikita leaned forward, eager to dive back into Walter's tale. Walter played with a breadstick before beginning.

"Michael was doing well as far as anyone could tell. He was going out regularly with Suriya, but not pulling much intel from her. The bug he put in her house grabbed a few names and contacts, which Richards ran through the database but didn't come up with much. Operations was growing impatient and was getting rammed by George for all the other missions stalling."

"Why was everything moving so slowly?" asked Nikita.

The waiter returned with their drinks and paused for their food order. Walter waved him away stating they had not viewed the menu yet. Perturbed, the waiter walked away.

"Not enough operatives, missing intel, slow confirmations, you name it. To Operations' credit, he was doing the best that he could with what he had available, but to George, it just wasn't enough. Plus, a lot was riding on the Meijers/Crimson Sky mission and it seemed like it was dead in the water."

"Michael was moving very slowly on this one," Nikita said. "But he did have Simone to help him, right?"

"Right. To an extent. Simone was being sent out on field missions, so she wasn't always available to help Michael speed things up with Suriya. Madeline expected him to move faster with his romances, but Michael was reluctant." Walter bit his breadstick and chewed.

"Why reluctant?" Nikita drank a sip of her wine.

Walter began to chuckle to himself, remembering.

"Before he slept with her, Suriya was calm...guarded. But after," Walter gave Nikita a look that told her plainly that Michael had reason to be hesitant. "Let's just say he quickly realized he might be over his head a little with this one."

---

Madeline sipped her tea leisurely as she looked at her monitor, reviewing Jurgen's notes. The morning had been quiet for the most part with only small sprouts of activity as operatives prepared for various missions. Operations was his normal self, pacing endlessly at the Perch, wearing a steady groove into the carpet. She could understand his anxiousness by having several missions going simultaneously. George, the ominous head over Section, lingered in the wings, demanding updates and growing ever the more impatient as missions continued to slow to a snail's pace in development. With limited intelligence being gathered on each mission, and operatives being sent out despite minimal information, it did not surprise her that missions were moving slowly. It was a fact that she warned Operations about. In his usual fashion, he curtly ignored her and moved forward only to become frustrated when developments within each mission became bogged down with requests for confirmations and misdirections. Section was even further labored with the Crimson Sky case, which now lay stagnant with no further progress than a few names and known cities in which the organization was rumored to be working. Madeline was reluctant to push Michael to expedite his investigation but saw no other alternative.

Although he was doing well with managing the customs broker, building her confidence in him, his speed was tortuously slow, and it did not go unnoticed. It was only a matter of time before Operations exhausted his patience with the mission and would result in a more drastic approach, which they both knew would land them in considerable ill repute with George. However, with the new knowledge of a trip planned, a known operation base for Crimson Sky, Madeline had confidence that the Crimson Sky/Meijers mission would soon come to a desirable close. The only thing that was left to do was to get Michael in the same room with Meijers' client.

A knock on her door drew her thoughts back inside her office. Madeline glanced at her security screen, then pressed a button to allow in Michael. She noted that he was not dressed like a grunge rock star in tight-fitting jeans and layered shirts, nor was he wearing the heady cologne he always wore whenever he spent time with Suriya. Instead, he was dressed in a simple black turtleneck sweater and slacks, adopting a style commonly worn by other Section operatives in the building. His dark hair gave her the impression that he tried to tame it, but gave up about halfway through as the curls rebelliously ran amok about his head. Regardless, his handsome face was unaffected by the waves of dark brown locks. Even the very obvious bruise under his left eye did not take away from his beautiful countenance.

"Good afternoon. How was your session with Jurgen this morning?"

Michael gave a look that explained plenty of how he felt his morning with Jurgen went, but would not speak it aloud. Madeline gestured to the seat in front of her desk. Michael settled himself into the seat and crossed his legs.

"I see your training with Gavin has improved your presence. The two of you seemed to have found a rapport," said Madeline.

"We've come to an understanding," said Michael, his voice very quiet.

"He says you have settled down more since you have begun working with Jurgen."

"We understand each other a bit better," Michael explained succinctly.

Madeline nodded. She turned to her monitor.

"I've been reviewing your recent scores...They are impressive. You show great talent in strategy and science, as well as field maneuvers. With a little more effort, you may find yourself advancing much faster than most."

Michael gave little response to the news. Instead, he fixed his eyes in her general direction but did not look directly at her. His expression remained flat.

"As far as your progress with your current assignment...That is moving quite slowly. Why is that?" Madeline clasped her hands in her lap.

"I'm gaining her trust. She is still...forming her opinion of me."

"You've been on this assignment for over two weeks," Madeline pointed out.

"She is interested...very interested, but she is reluctant to discuss her work. I feel if I continue to pursue the topic, she will resist."

"You don't have to be evasive about what you want to know. You seem to be able to get a lot from her when you are direct with your questions."

"I have to be careful with her," said Michael. "She seems stable one moment, then not the next."

"How do you mean?"

"She's very jealous and suspicious. She says she finds it hard to trust me. Each time she wants to allow me to get close to her, she claims something will happen to make her change her mind about me."

"Well then, you should change it back," said Madeline bluntly.

Michael swallowed.

"You're not there to deal with whatever psychosis she may have. You are there to find out the information we need to know to get closer to Crimson Sky. That is all. Whatever you have to do to keep her happy and open, that is what you are to do."

"I fear I may have moved too quickly in sleeping with her." Michael gave a look that told of his uncertainty. "I feel like things changed between us once that happened."

"Be glad that it did. You wouldn't have been given more time to close the deal," said Madeline. "Besides, now that you've done so, she has become much more interested in you."

Michael grimaced, still appearing uncomfortable, but saying nothing further in response.

"Luckily, the bug that you planted in her house has uncovered a few charities she is connected to," Madeline continued. "We have researched those charities and, after some deep scrubbing, uncovered a name."

Madeline typed on her computer and accessed a data file displaying a profile missing a photo of the target.

"Armand Bashir. He is the Chief Executive Officer and founder of the Bashir Foundation, an offshoot organization of a much larger social aid charity. His business is based primarily in Cairo, but he also has offices in Syria, Israel, and...Alexandria."

Madeline moved the cursor down the articles of intelligence detailing the many different events and activities of the foundation. At first glance, the accomplishments of the foundation seemed innumerable and all working for the well-being and improvement of the misfortuned in Israeli controlled countries.

"Bashir, we believe, is a shadow member of Crimson Sky. His organization is being used to shield the group's more nefarious activities. Richards was able to intercept several of her emails and discover the name of the carrier that she is using to transport a fairly large shipment. We still do not know the bill of lading number or what the cargo is. It could be goods. It could be weapons."

Michael lifted his chin.

"We will learn soon enough once we decode the rest of her emails."

"Does this mean my part of the mission is over?"

Madeline regarded Michael's question with a small smile.

"No. It doesn't."

"But you've found the connection," said Michael. "The only part you're missing is the bill of lading, which I'm sure will surface in one of the emails…"

"As I understand, she is going to be traveling to Alexandria in a few days, correct?" asked Madeline, ignoring him.

"Yes," Michael answered warily.

"The Bill of Lading we will discover. It is Bashir we want. You will need to get Meijers to take you with her on her trip to Egypt."

There was an audible huff from Michael as he adjusted himself in his seat. He was beginning to show a bit of frustration, though he was actively trying to hide it. Madeline reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a dark-colored folder and slid it across the desk to Michael.

"We know nearly all that we need to know about Bashir except what he looks like. He has remained a mystery to all agencies. We will need you to identify and confirm her client as Bashir. Once you've done that, then it will be the end of your assignment."

Michael reached for the folder and took it without looking directly at her.

"We have provided you with the necessary credentials to accompany Meijers. Normally, we do not prepare such documents before anything is confirmed, but...I am confident that you will succeed in your task."

Madeline gave over an agreeable smile, which Michael chose not to acknowledge. Instead, he looked off into nothingness, swimming in his deeper thoughts. Madeline, seeing Michael was choosing not to fully engage her, erased her pleasant smile, and returned to her computer.

"This part of your assignment will become active once you've confirmed your invitation," said Madeline. She typed a message in a conversation box on her screen and sent it, pressing the enter key with a light tap. "I'm sure you will not have any trouble with this."

Michael remained silent. It was obvious, however, that he was a little more than frustrated. Madeline glanced back at Michael, studying him once more.

"What will happen to Suriya once I complete my assignment?" asked Michael.

Madeline paused a moment, considering the question. She turned back towards him, returning her smile to its fixed position.

"She will be taken care of."

"In what way?"

"If what you want to know is if Suriya will come to harm in some way, I can assure you that she will not...by our hand," Madeline answered evenly.

Michael studied Madeline a moment, taking in her words and the shrewd way in which she delivered them. He felt himself stiffen as if bracing for something more. Instead, Madeline gave him her most tranquil of smiles and relaxed her dark eyes so that she seemed nearly benign. He knew, however, that she was far from what she appeared.

"Is that all?" asked Michael, uncrossing his legs and planting both feet on the floor.

"Yes. That is all," said Madeline.

Michael nodded and stood up.

"Michael," said Madaline.

Michael stopped and turned his head slightly towards her.

Madeline drew in a breath and stood from her desk. She walked over to where Michael stood and turned him towards her to look at him directly. His light eyes found her and finally stared back after avoiding her before. Madeline smiled, a genuine smile like a mother addressing her child, and gently touched the bruised place on his eye.

"This is a rare opening for you, Michael. One that I hope you do not take lightly. This mission is very important to us. We normally would not leave it in the hands of a recruit."

"What was the real reason for taking Simone off the mission?"

"Simone, although a good operative, and a veteran, does not have the skills required to handle this type of mission. We had hoped that she would, but she was beginning to show signs of instability. I hope that you understand why we felt it necessary to remove her. We could not afford anything to jeopardize this endeavor."

"Why me?" Michael asked.

Madeline thought a moment of her answer before speaking.

"Jurgen recommended you. He has great faith in you, as does Operations."

"And you?"

Madeline smiled. "You are a good match for Suriya."

She gave Michael a gentle rub on his arm.

"See Medical about your eye. I will need to talk to Jurgen about his training methods."

Michael considered Madeline's words then left the office as quietly as he came.

---

Michael looked down into his mug of coffee. The black liquid gave no reflection appearing as void as he started to feel the longer he remained on the mission. In any other instance, he would consider himself lucky to have a woman like Suriya falling head over heels for him. Never in his wildest dreams did he hope to be in the same room with someone so cultured and powerful, yet, he never felt more unsettled. For all her beauty and prestige, she revealed herself to be volatile and full of insecurities that bled out in every word she spoke to him.

He could not get used to the way she grabbed hold of his arm. It was always too tight. Always yanking. Always demanding. She constantly questioned him about his whereabouts, asking him where he had been or how long he would be before he came to see her. She claimed she only wanted to be assured of his safety, but her line of inquiry seemed more interrogative than caring. She called non-stop, leaving messages that sounded cryptic, and explaining she only wanted to hear his voice. At first listen, her messages sounded sweet, but beneath he could detect an air of desperation in her tone. She sent barrages of text messages that became more insistent the longer he left them unresponded to. When he did respond, her flurry of questions left a sour taste in his mouth knowing that when he saw her, she would not end her pursuit in finding out why he waited so long to reply. Just as she appeared agitated with the constant interruption of her client, he was becoming just as equally irritated with her incessant badgering. The more he dared to drift away from her, the more she clung to him, becoming hostile at times and berating him whenever it seemed he was not showing her enough attention or care. If another woman lingered too long near them, she bristled, raking her dark eyes over both the woman and Michael with obvious suspicion. It did not matter if he only acknowledged that the woman was there to do a duty, she wanted his full and unwavering attention.

Simone had called him her Ken Doll, and he could not completely disagree. He was beginning to feel like a living doll to Suriya, one that she could dress, kiss, have sex with, and cleanly put away until it was time to play with him again. She expected him to be at her door when she awoke in the morning. Expected him to bring her lunch in the afternoons. She expected him to meet her directly after work and expected him to indulge her every whim late into the night. She demanded he pleasure her without saying so directly. She hinted at her desires with subtle movements and gestures, and with words that did not hide her intent. When alone, she grabbed at him forcefully, tugging at him with eager desperation whenever she felt her need growing too unbearable to ignore. After their night together, he felt he had awakened another being, one that would freely attack him whenever she saw fit to. It no longer mattered where they were, or what plans they had. If she wanted him, she took him, and he was instructed not to refuse her. He had to give himself to her whether he wanted to in that instance or not.

"You don't belong to you anymore," Jurgen said. "Whatever individuality you think you have is gone. You are the Section. Whatever the Section needs, you provide it. Whatever must be done for the Section, you do it. You do it, not because you want to, but because the Section wills it to be so."

Michael looked down at his watch and noted the time. Suriya was overdue and he was beginning to become impatient. He looked out the window of the cafe' and spied a young woman with dark hair and a petite frame walking down the avenue. For a short moment, he thought it was Simone coming towards the cafe'. His heart sped up a little, considering the thought, but then realized after another glance that it was not her. He settled back down in his seat, feeling confused by his reaction.

He had not thought much about Simone, having discarded her along with his feelings about Madeline, the mission, and Section in general. She was only a piece within the machine that had been built to run the assignment. Yet, since her removal, he found he missed her presence alongside him. During the study group, she was an integral part of maintaining the bluff, acting as another plane to play off of whenever conversations seemed to lag. Suriya smiled and looked as though to enjoy the talks they would, at times, drift into between lessons. He enjoyed the conversations as well, finding Simone's quick wit refreshing and charming. He found he had to make himself concentrate on Suriya and not allow his eyes to wander to Simone. Whenever he did allow his eyes to drift, he often caught her staring at him as well, turning her eyes quickly when she thought he was looking.

Her reaction to him as of late appeared purposefully misleading. In one moment, she seemed to be welcoming, and in the next, as caustic as acid. She did not expressly state that she hated him. He sensed someplace deep within she felt something for him. It had been in her eyes when he approached her in the parking lot and in her voice over the comm unit. Her expressions over the radio the night he spent with Suriya were not sounds made on purpose for him to hear. It was clear that she made them without realizing that he could hear her. The pain in her voice spoke towards her broken heart. The short exhales she made left him shivering and sent images of her beneath him. He could no more control his sudden fantasies than he could the natural undulation of his body against Suriya's. It had not been Suriya's body that brought him to his apex. It had been Simone's quiet gasps and the phantom of her in his mind that pressed him forward. He realized too late that he was no longer making love to Suriya, but to the sounds he heard in his comm unit and the resulting feelings that it stirred. Her sounds mixed with Suriya's pleasured moans creating a horrible symphony that pulled him deeper into delirium. He felt ashamed to know Simone was listening to him drowning in rapturous ecstasy. Yet, he longed for her to continue being there, if not in body, then in spirit. Suriya's touch became her touch. Suriya's voice became Simone's. With every lunge and thrust, his body felt shattered as he listened to Simone's anguished breaths. Although Suriya's body writhed under him, he no longer saw her face. He kept his eyes closed, listening intently, and begging for the sounds to draw him into the blackness of euphoria. Her cries drew him down further until he felt nearly suffocated. Although she said hardly a word, those that she did utter underneath her breath, he held them close to him in a crushing embrace. He could not let them go for fear he might also let go of her voice and lose its power forever. When it came, he felt jettisoned from an abyss and rocketed into oblivion. He was certain that she did not know this was the outcome of her simple presence on the comm unit. Had she known, he likely would not have ever found her, let alone have been able to meet.

Neither of them would admit what had transpired between the three of them. He had not expected it, nor had he counted on the questions he was left to wrestle with afterward. Her pain-filled cries had guided him to completion then pulled away from him like a faded dream. He lay naked in the bed next to Suriya's quaking form. He had the feeling of being torn in two, his mind severed from his body, and his body left upon the bed as a lamentable sacrifice.

He did not ask for Simone's help on the mission because he thought the mission too difficult to handle alone, but rather, he desired to know more about her. Although Suriya was troublesome, she was not impossible to manage. He could handle her wild mood swings and predictable tirades mainly because he knew he would soon be rid of her once the mission was done. His interest in Suriya was as thin as the excuses she gave him for being so shamefully possessive. Had she not been of importance to Section, he would have let her walk out of the restaurant the moment after the condom hit the floor. It was a simple incident and she treated it as though he had whipped himself out on the table. Simone had tried to play down the moment, even going as far as showing Suriya her efforts of protection and it seemed to calm her anxieties enough for her to be open to a second date. However, the ghost of the fated evening lingered in her thoughts each time he went for his wallet to pay for their meals. He could see it in her eyes as she studied him, waiting for some awful reminder of her first suspicions to jump out at her again like a scare in a horror movie. He was growing broke buying her flowers, candies, and jewelry trying to maintain her amorous attention. He could feel her judgment each time he went into his wallet, always questioning whether he had enough to settle the bill. He toyed with the idea of one day making her pay for their outing just to see how she would react. He knew it would likely throw her into a tantrum, flying into a terrific fury, and leaving him with a grand headache, but he could not help feeling it might be worth letting karma take hold of her for once.

Simone appeared to be just as unraveled as Suriya, yet there was a steadiness in her eyes that insured his initial assessment of her. Madeline said that she was unstable, but he could not agree. Simone was sure and sturdy, resolute, and balanced. When she made decisions, she made them with certainty and approached each task with meaningful direction. She did not waste her movements or the things that she said to him. She intrigued him more than he could put to words. The mystique behind her dark eyes and carefully hidden tattoo drew him further out into the wilderness of questions he had of her. She was honest with what she could be honest about, which was much more than what he was discovering with both Suriya and Madeline. Her behavior towards him, although confusing, was not entirely unexplainable. She was never set up as the primary lead on what he understood as Section's most important mission. She was passed over by a recruit and then subsequently dismissed once it was plain that her presence was no longer needed. It was clear that she expected to be lead on the assignment, and when it was taken away, she understandably resented him.

The door to the coffee shop opened allowing in Suriya and two other people. She looked about the shop searching for Michael's face. When she finally saw him, she beamed and made her way over to him. Michael welcomed her with a warm embrace and a kiss planted lightly on her lips. He pulled a seat out at his table for her to sit.

"Thank you," said Suriya, settling into the seat.

"What do you want to drink?" Michael asked.

"Whatever you were having is fine," said Suriya, her eyes already dancing happily over him.

Michael chose to wear a simple oversized tan knit sweater over a pair of dark denim jeans and black boots. His casual attire appeared the polar opposite to Suriya's dark maroon colored dress with black leather piping and black heels. He would have preferred she wear softer colors instead of the severe dark shades she seemed attracted to. The darker colors made her look far older than she was, which he was sure she was not intending. He went to retrieve her a cup of coffee reviewing once more his strategy. When he returned to the table, Suriya was on her phone.

"I've checked that B.O.L several times. Everything is accounted for and will be ready to ship with the carrier by the end of this week," said Suriya over her phone.

Michael carefully placed the mug on the table and slid into his seat. He returned to his own, mostly emptied mug, and sipped it. Suriya nodded her head, then responded verbally.

"Of course. I've already anticipated that snag. That's why I took extra care in making certain we would not get deadlocked in the water by waiting until the end of the week to ship. The weather would have cleared up by then."

Michael tried to look as if he were not interested in Suriya's call, but his eyes kept shifting back towards her. He nervously toyed with the bottom of his mug. He looked about the cafe, then back at Suriya, who by now, was beginning to pick up on his impatience.

"I'll email you the details. I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. I will call you back when I'm finished with my meeting. We can discuss more of what will need to be included with your end of the paperwork."

Suriya smiled apologetically at Michael as she attempted to get off the phone. The person on the other end of the line was not taking the hint. They continued to ask questions, mostly about billing. Suriya looked thoroughly frustrated as she repeated the answers already given. Finally, she gave what Michael could only assume was a final overview of what was happening with the client's shipment at that very moment and a promise for more information once she was updated from the carrier.

"Yes," said Suriya, somewhat sharply. "I'll be in contact soon...Certainly...The same."

Suriya ended her call and set the phone down on the table. She pushed out a line of tension through her lips and took her mug in hand. Michael waited until Suriya had sipped a long comforting drink of her coffee.

"He seems nervous," said Michael.

Suriya laughed a little and drank another sip. She shrugged and lowered the mug back down to the table.

"Once this deal is done, maybe he won't be so aggravating," Michael comforted.

"One could only hope," said Suriya. She reached for Michael's hand. He reached back and allowed her to join their fingers together. "How are you? Did you get my message this morning? I called you, but you didn't answer."

"I'm sorry. I was in class," said Michael.

"Did you get my message? Michael?" Suriya called softly.

"Hmmm?" Michael swept his gaze back to Suriya just as a ray of sunlight crossed over his face illuminating his eyes.

A waitress approached the table and asked if they would be interested in something from the cafe's bakery. The waitress stared at her notepad a moment, ready to write down their order when she looked up and spied Michael. She stiffened in surprise upon seeing Michael's eyes so brilliantly lit by the sunray. She stammered her next sentence, attempting to ask if they also needed a refill on their cups.

"We're fine," said Suriya sharply.

"Uhmm...S-sure," said the waitress, cutting one last look back towards Michael. "Would you like a pastry?"

Michael started to answer when Suriya interjected again.

"I said we're fine."

The waitress looked at Suriya, noting the intense expression on her face before moving away from the table.

Michael looked after the waitress briefly before returning his gaze to Suriya. She watched him intensely, trying to detect some other behavior. Instead, he took her hand into his and kissed her fingers softly.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Michael began, stroking her fingers lightly.

"Really?" Suriya leaned in. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

By the tender expression on Michael's face and the soft way he held her in his gaze, Suriya slowly became disarmed as she rested her mug on the table. He could see her chest rise a little as she took in a savoring breath. He took in one of his own, but it was not to admire the moment. His thoughts raced about, preparing what he was about to say, then discarding words he felt would not sufficiently soften her to him.

"Your trip to Egypt..."

Suriya sighed heavily. "What about my trip?"

"Are you going alone?" Michael continued to run his thumb over her knuckles, looking down as he spoke.

"Yes," said Suriya.

"What about the guy on the phone? Is he coming?"

"He's who I'm going to meet with for the deal."

"What's his name?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I just wanna know," he said, still not looking up.

"It's my job, Michael," Suriya said with a small laugh. "Don't tell me you're worried."

"Should I be?" Michael looked up directly into Suriya's eyes.

Suriya paused her mug just as it was about to touch her lips. Her expression was of complete surprise by how Michael was behaving. She set her mug down on the table.

"This is a business deal. Not a pleasure trip."

"How do I know that? How do I know you're not just going over there to go meet some guy for...a...for a wild night under the pyramids?"

"He's my client, Michael," Suriya said, continuing to smile in amusement. "Nothing more. There's no need to worry."

"Not worry," Michael repeated with skepticism. He pulled his hands away from Suriya and cupped them around his mug. "How can you say that when he's constantly on your phone...Sending you messages...Calling you at work? I can't even call you at work."

"Michael, now you know that isn't true," said Suriya somewhat defensively. "I call you all the time. It's you that acts like you're too busy sometimes."

"I'm in class-"

"And I'm at work," Suriya fired back through pressed lips. "This is business. It has nothing to do with us."

"It has everything to do with us," said Michael. "He's a constant interruption."

"What would you have me do then? Tell him to stop calling? Let a multi-billion dollar account fall apart because you suspect something is going on?"

"Let me meet him."

Suriya nearly spat out her coffee in her laughter. She giggled at the idea but stopped seeing Michael's very serious expression. She regained herself and drank another sip.

"Michael, darling. That's just not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because," Suriya could not hold back another laugh. "The trip isn't a bring-your-boyfriend-to-work day. I can't just trot you into my meeting as a spectator. He is going to want to know why you are there."

"Make something up," Michael answered plainly.

"Why do you want to go? I'm sure it isn't because you feel threatened, Michael. I'm not silly."

Michael looked down again, not answering. Instead, he rested on looking self-conscious as he toyed with his mug with his fingertips again.

"I can't bring you to my meeting. It would be a complete bore to have you there and with me in meetings all day. What would we do there if you did come?"

"I don't know," Michael sighed. "Maybe take in a few of the sights, grab some food, drink...Make love."

"Oh!" Suriya's eyebrow raised. "Is that what you think we would do? Make love?"

Michael flashed up a small smile along with his crystal gaze.

"Yes," he said. "Under the Egyptian moon."

"You're such a romantic," Suriya accused. "Is that all you ever think about? Making love?"

"Of course not. I think of a lot of things. It's just that every time I'm with you…"

"You think about sex," Suriya finished.

Michael smiled into his cup. "It's never far from my mind."

"To be honest, it's never far from mine either," Suriya admitted.

"Then take me with you," Michael insisted.

Suriya's expression read that she was still not certain. Michael leaned forward.

"When we return from the meeting, I could have a bath or rose petals and salts waiting, a dinner prepared, wine, music, whatever you like. It could be like a short vacation for you...for both of us. We could enjoy one another beneath the ancient stars and worship at the feet of the sphinx."

Michael looked at Suriya with such expressive and excited eyes that she could barely contain her own emotion for being caught up within his passion. She giggled to herself, feeling youthful.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"You've never been to Egypt before, have you?"

"No. Never," Michael answered honestly. "But I want to go. I want to see what it's like there. I want to stand in front of the pyramids. I want to touch the stones of the ancient gods. I want to feel the river Nile…"

"Sweetheart, the trip is only for a day!"

"Okay, then whatever we could see in a day!" Michael reached for both her hands and held them in his. He looked deeply into her eyes, expressing deep meaning. "It doesn't matter if I don't ever see any of those things. All that matters is that I'm there with you."

"Michael…"

"We could wake in each other's arms, eat breakfast off our bodies, and bathe naked in the African heat." Michael moved out of his seat and circled the table to take Suriya's face in his hands. He pulled her into a sumptuous kiss. "You'll do what you need to do for the day and then the rest of the night is ours."

"Michael," Suriya began again but found herself sucked in once more by Michael's kiss.

"I want to go everywhere you go," he continued, speaking close to her lips so that each syllable played teasingly at hers. "I want to be anywhere you are."

"Michael! You're sounding crazy!"

"Maybe I am," Michael retorted, relaxing back a little. "Sometimes I think I might be insane, but I can't keep lying to myself, nor can I keep ignoring what I'm feeling inside."

Michael pressed her hand to his chest. Suriya stared at her hand then up at Michael, trying to understand his explosion of emotion. Michael held himself steady, hoping that he was not expressing too much. He knew times before, he was always subdued and calm making him unreadable at times. She often questioned if he felt anything real for her at all. He would only look at her for brief moments when he either wanted to assure her or ask her pointed questions about her work. Never had he expressed more than an agreement with her intimation of love and adoration. Now he stood in front of her gushing feelings as if a geyser had suddenly welled up. She looked overwhelmed.

"What are you saying, Michael?"

Michael thought a moment, testing words in his head. He looked at Suriya finding her searching his face once more for truth. He moved in close to her again, hugging her to his body so that she could not look into his eyes.

"I can't imagine my life without you," he whispered against her ear.

"Michael, you can't love me," said Suriya. "There's still so much about me you don't know. So much I don't know about you."

"We can learn it together."

"There's so much you won't understand…"

"Give me a chance to try," said Michael. He pulled back from her to stroke her hair back from her forehead. "I just want to be with you."

Suriya relaxed fully into his hands. Her eyes glistened with tears. Michael smiled then brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Let me come with you."

Suriya sighed. Her eyes fell from Michael looking very sad now. Michael's smile began to melt down into concern.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I just can't."

Michael drew in a breath. It was not the answer he was hoping to gain. He looked away from Suriya, not wanting her to see the indignant look cross over his face. He fixed himself into a less hardened expression and looked down at Suriya with a mix of hurt and confusion.

"Why? Why won't you let me come with you?"

"Because, Michael, I just can't. My client is quite private and won't do kindly with others showing up at the meeting. He doesn't want to be known."

"Who am I going to tell?"

"It doesn't matter. I have to do this alone."

Michael pulled away from Suriya's arms leaving her looking crestfallen. She attempted to reach back for him, but he folded his arms to himself.

"Who is this guy?" Michael asked quietly. "Why does he want you alone with him?"

Suriya sighed heavily, noticing Michael's demeanor.

"He's just a client, Michael. That is all."

Suriya blinked a few times, seeing tension beginning in Michael. He crossed back to his seat and sat down in a hunched heap. He turned his gaze away from Suriya, preferring to stare out the windows of the cafe'. He pulled in a long breath, his chest rising with the effort, before releasing it long through his nostrils.

"I'm sorry," said Suriya. "We can plan a weekend someplace. Wherever you want to go. Just say where and we can go."

"I want to go to Egypt," Michael fired back quickly, knowing he was sounding like a tempestuous child.

"And we can go to Egypt," Suriya responded, her tone sounding very parental. "Just not right now. We can plan it for later."

Michael did not look at Suriya. She grimaced, noting his return to being distant. She looked down at her mug and decided not to try and finish the small amount that was left within the cup. She checked her watch.

"I have to go. I have a conference call that I need to be on in an hour."

"With Armand?" Michael said with a sneer.

"With my carrier," Suriya corrected.

She pulled her purse into her lap and looked inside it to retrieve her phone. She checked for any missed messages before dropping it back inside. She looked at Michael again, seeing he continued to refuse to look at her.

"Really, Michael. This is quite childish."

Michael said nothing as he continued to stare out the window of the cafe'. From the side of his eye, he watched as she finished gathering her things together to leave. When she was done straightening herself, she stood to her feet. She looked to him, expecting him to stand with her, but found him still sitting with his arms pulled so tightly about him, he looked as though he were trying to crush himself.

"It's just for a day, Michael. I'll be back before you know it."

"A day...A month. It'll all feel the same."

Suriya regarded Michael with some gentleness. She drew close to him and took his face into her hands. She landed a kiss at his cheek, then one on his pressed lips.

"It's very sweet of you to be so concerned. Up until now, I never knew you felt this way about me. I was beginning to wonder." She landed another kiss on his lips. "I'll call you this evening. Maybe we can get together again. Maybe you can come by. I'll cook."

Michael met her eyes finally and looked as though he were softening a little to her touch.

"Maybe if you had some time to think about it…" said Michael.

She kissed him sweetly again.

"I doubt I'll change my mind...But, I am thinking of a weekend we could spend away...Just the two of us...No interruptions."

She turned away and walked out of the cafe'. Michael sat and watched her make her way outside and to where her car was parked.

"Upon your return," said Madeline in the Comm unit, "report to my office for debriefing."

"Yes," said Michael.

He sighed heavily, feeling a little exhausted, and stood to his feet.

---

Simone was aware someone was waiting for her on the level just below in the stairwell. She descended the steps, catching the scent of cologne.

"She rejected you, didn't she," she said reaching the landing.

Michael leaned against the railing with his arms crossed and looking very serious. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks, dress shoes, and a black crew neck sweater. His dark hair was combed back and tamed this time. He looked a little older in this style, which she felt was a welcome departure from his usual college kid persona. He was proving to be quite the chameleon when it came to his different looks.

"What went wrong?"

Michael grimaced, reviewing his last meeting with Suriya in his mind before answering.

"Her client only wants her by herself. She's going to honor that, which I don't blame her for doing. It would seem kind of odd to bring me along," Michael explained.

"How did you frame it?" Simone settled back against the railing opposite Michael and crossed her arms as well, mimicking him.

"Tried to make her think I was crazy in love with her, desperate even."

"And?"

"She wasn't going for it. At least, not entirely."

"She's mostly business, Michael. You know that. It's in her profile," Simone pointed out.

"So is her psychological assessment. It suggests she is prone towards large, romantic gestures and expressive declarations of love."

Michael repeated the words from Suriya's profile as if they were vile things. He snarled a little at the idea of a woman requiring so much from her suitors.

"So why don't you?" asked Simone, relaxing her arms a little.

"Why don't I what?"

"Give her a large expression of love? Why not flood her with it?"

"She'll think I'm crazy," Michael returned.

"Crazy in love." Simone pulled away from the railing she used as support and approached Michael slowly. "Your only objective right now is to get her to agree. After that, all you will need to do is play into her fantasy. Be the guy she wants. You're that already."

Simone stopped just a step from where Michael stood. He looked at her, taking in her words. He still kept his arms folded but relaxed his shoulders. A small smile crested at his lips.

"What did Madeline say?"

"She commended my efforts," Michael answered evenly. "Called my performance brilliant, but...unsuccessful. She suggested I continue to work at her and play into her insecurities."

"How do you intend on doing that?"

"She's fearful of losing my attention. She's not always confident of my commitment to her." Michael's eyes slid over Simone. "She's suspicious of any woman that speaks with me."

"She's jealous."

"I attempted to mirror her and be just as jealous so that she could see herself in me. It cemented her belief that I'm just as involved with her as she is with me, but it wasn't enough to get her to change her mind. If she is threatened with the possibility of me leaving her, she might."

"Are you sure you want to risk that with her? If she's already acting possessive...It may backfire on you."

"I don't really see any other way. She has to be made to think that she can't let me slip from her grasp for even a moment. She has to be so worried about me being stolen away from her that she makes mistakes."

"When are you meeting her again?"

"Tonight. Dinner."

"Are you going to bring it up again?"

"I'll hint at my desire to be with her, but I won't pursue the topic. She'll likely be more interested in reaffirming my love for her than discussing the trip. She will try and convince me that my staying behind will only strengthen my desire, and upon her return, cement our devotion to one another."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," said Simone.

"But it makes the rest lonely," Michael completed.

"You want her to think you got lonely?"

"I want her to fear it."

The deadpan way in which Michael made his statement caused Simone to shudder a little. It was evident that he knew exactly what it was that he was doing, and frighteningly enough, knew precisely what he would do to execute it. Like most other Valentine operatives, he was careful and calculated in his approach. However, unlike others, there was a sinister bite to his planning and the easy way he seemed to conjure the semantics of his next moves made him appear all the more malicious. Simone folded her arms to herself, studying Michael's blank face.

"What do you need me to do?" Simone asked.

"She has the day off for the most part. She will likely want to spend it together."

Simone nodded. "I'll carve out some time between missions. We don't have much on the panel scheduled."

"We could meet in the Quad or the library," Michael suggested.

"Or...We could meet in a store, shopping," said Simone with a smirk. "That seems to be her favorite pastime activity."

"Just let me know the location," said Michael, ignoring Simone.

"Fine. I'll call you with an ETA."

She started down the corridor, heading towards Systems when Michael caught her hand, bringing her attention back to him.

"I know that Madeline doesn't want you to help me. She trusts that I can do this alone, but..."

Simone gave Michael a warm grin. She cupped her other hand over his.

"You're a good operative, Michael. I know you really don't need me."

"I don't…" He said softly. "I want you with me..."

He stared deeply into her for a moment, holding her face within his gaze. Simone took a step back, pulling her hand from him, but not taking her eyes away. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, revealing a grin so sweet it looked to belong more to a little boy than a grown man. Simone mirrored his smile.

"We're still a team, right?" said Simone. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Michael nodded.

Simone took another step back before turning and heading down the hall.

---

Suriya pulled out another silk blouse and studied it in the bright shop lights of the boutique store. It was the fifth one they were in and it seemed she was no closer in deciding on what she wanted to buy than she had been in the last few stores. Michael, dressed in a casual blue sports blazer, khaki slacks, and a navy blue and white polo shirt stood next to Suriya watching her sift through racks of similar style blouses through blue-tinted shades. The morning dragged as he followed Suriya about, agreeing to escort her wherever she desired to go. She stated she wanted to find something new and elegant to wear after deeming all of her current wardrobe too drab and uninspiring. She offered to buy him more updates to his closet as well, but they were yet to reach that point in their shopping spree. At the moment, Suriya seemed preoccupied with finding the perfect cowl neck blouse.

"What about this one?" she asked, holding up a blouse that looked nearly identical to the one she had just discarded.

Michael barely looked at the shirt, glancing briefly at it before looking back out over the rest of the store. Although he knew that they were being shadowed, he could not distinguish which customers were regular civilians and which were Section operatives. A few women were milling about the merchandise racks sorting through the hangers appearing very engrossed in their shopping endeavors. None of them looked as though they might be paying them much attention.

"Michael," Suriya sounded irritated. "You didn't even look."

"It's pretty," said Michael airly.

"You said the other blouse was pretty."

"It was," said Michael. He focused his gaze back at Suriya and gave her a quick grin. "They are all pretty, and they will all look gorgeous on you."

Suriya smirked. She replaced the blouse, shoving it back on the rack somewhat angrily. Michael, noticing her changed mood, reached to touch her arm. Suriya moved away from him, scraping the hangers against the metal as she slid one blouse after the other along the rack.

"What? What did I do now?" Michael tried to temper back his own emotion, but his exhaustion at the long shop trip was showing through his tone.

"Nothing," said Suriya sharply.

Michael sighed. He stepped closer to Suriya and touched her arm again. When she attempted to pull away, he tightened his grip around her elbow, pulling her towards him. Her dark eyes darted up at him with brimming fury. He returned a hard stare then pressed his lips forcefully to hers. At first, she resisted, bracing her hands against his chest. He pressed in more, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking for hers. She relented to him as she gripped the collar of his shirt. When she tried to push in for more, he pulled back, denying her himself. He smiled teasingly, enjoying the unfocused and bewildered expression on her face as she tried to recover from being suddenly pulled from her dream. Michael looked quickly through the round of tops and selected a black and white mock men's wear blouse with near pearl buttons and a simple collar.

"Why not this," he suggested. "It will look very nice with a pair of slacks and heels."

Suriya looked at the top, considering the choice. She took it from Michael and held it out again. Michael took a step back, folding his arms to himself and chewed on his thumbnail. Suriya continued to study the blouse before pulling it to herself and draping it over her arm. Michael smiled, pleased that he had, at the very least, had gotten her to agree to try something on. She sifted through a few more racks before deciding on two more tops and a pair of wide-legged trousers.

"Take a seat out here," she said and pointed to a grouping of club chairs positioned outside the dressing rooms of the boutique. "I'm going to try these on."

"Are you sure you don't need my help?" asked Michael suggestively.

Suriya grinned. "I doubt you will be much."

"Maybe I could help you get zipped up."

"Nice try. I don't have anything with zippers on them," Suriya laughed. "Be a good boy and go sit down over there. I'll be out in a minute."

Michael smiled thoughtfully as Suriya disappeared behind the heavy linen curtains of the changing rooms. He took a seat, hooking his shades onto the front of his shirt, and looking over the store to spot any operatives lingering about. Again, he could not tell any operatives apart from the normal shoppers, but he knew that they were around. For his plan to work, he wanted to be sure that whoever was on patrol that day could be intercepted later before they gave their report.

He looked at his watch.

It had been four hours since leaving Suriya's house. He had not eaten much since that morning and he was beginning to feel famished. He hoped that this was the last store they went to and that lunch would be next. His thoughts began to wonder over meal choices and wine pairings. He no longer cared about where the operatives were, or even if he ever got to shop for himself something new. His stomach began to growl in agreement with his mind.

A paper drink cup appeared at his head. Michael looked at the drink cup then at the person holding it.

"Thirsty?" asked Simone.

Michael took the drink cup and sniffed the contents. The scent of brewed coffee beans and cream wafted back to him, curling about his nostrils with welcoming fragrance. Michael took a long first drink of the cup enjoying the heady cocoa and vanilla flavoring of the coffee. He wondered how she knew this was exactly the way he liked his coffee.

"When did you get here?" asked Michael.

Simone circled to the other side of him, taking a seat in the next chair. She was dressed in her college wear of skin-tight jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her black hair was in a long braid with a pair of aviator shades perched at the top of her head. A dark green canvas satchel and a cherry red lip completed the overall look. She took a drink from her cup.

"A few minutes ago. It took a minute to confirm your location," said Simone in a hushed voice.

"Where is the shadow team?"

Simone's eyes shifted to point towards two operatives hanging about a clearance rack seemingly in pleasant conversation. Michael had not noticed them before as they looked like any other shopper.

"Two more at the door," said Simone, nodding to their locations.

Michael acknowledged them silently before returning to Simone.

"Where are you supposed to be?"

"I'm on twenty-four-hour downtime. Technically, I'm off work until ten o'clock tomorrow night. So…" Simone pulled in a little towards Michael. "Once this is done, you're gonna owe me."

Michael grinned back. "I might need to start a tab, then."

"You can settle up after this mission is finished."

Suriya appeared from behind the curtain with the shirt that Michael picked out for her and the trousers she chose. She smiled upon seeing Michael but did not keep it seeing Simone sitting beside him. Her eyes went directly to the drink that Michael held in his hand. Pausing for only a moment, she stepped forward to stand before them.

"Well? What do you think?" Suriya asked Michael.

Michael took a second to consider Suriya before answering honestly. "Very nice. Very chic."

Simone nodded in agreement and smiled. Suriya looked at Simone with a strained grin. Simone continued her smile, sipping leisurely at her drink, and looking pleasant.

"You remember, Simone, right?" said Michael.

"Of course." Suriya stretched her smile even more. "How could I forget our cute language tutor."

How she labeled Simone as being cute struck Michael with immediate defense. He made himself relax despite knowing exactly Suriya's meaning in her tone and fought his natural inclination to intervene. He watched as Suriya went over to where Simone was seated and extended her hand. Simone shook Suriya's hand, crossed her legs, and leaned on the armrest towards Michael.

"It's good to see you," said Suriya. "How have you been?"

"Great," said Simone. "Can't complain."

"Still tutoring?" asked Suriya, folding her arms over her chest.

"Nah," said Simone informally with a short wave. "It was getting to be too much to keep up with. Besides...I wasn't getting paid much to do it so…"

"But you were good at it," said Michael. "You certainly made it easy for me to get through the class."

Suriya tossed a hard look at Michael before returning to Simone.

"I was feeling like I wasn't helping much. I mean, I didn't really have that many students, plus I was slipping in my classes. I think it was best I stuck with my own work. Besides, I kinda got the feeling the tutoring wasn't really what my parents wanted me to be concentrating on. I think they really wanted me to focus on business. You know, start learning how to do financing and corporate negotiations."

"Your father, he works for an international bank, right?" said Suriya.

"Yeah. Since he never had a son, he is really pushing me into following after him. I know I'm not exactly what he was hoping for, but…"

"Nonsense," said Michael. "You're every bit as good as any guy in finance class. You're top-ranked."

"You think so?" Simone looked at Michael fully.

"Of course I do," Michael continued. "Why do you think I'm always trying to cheat off your paper?"

Simone laughed. "I was wondering why you asked to sit beside me. I knew you were up to something."

Simone playfully slapped Michael's arm. He smiled back brightly and giggled. Suriya watched both of them with narrowing eyes.

"So what are you doing for income now? Are you working part-time in fast food or retail?" Suriya did not hide the slight edge to her tone.

"No. I'm just concentrating on my studies," Simone answered, still looking at Michael and smiling. "Trying to graduate early if I can."

"If you graduate early, who am I going to cheat off of?" Michael joked.

"You're just going to have to find another cute Asian girl to use and abuse," said Simone with a slight wink.

"That'll be hard. There aren't that many of you around on campus," said Michael with a bit of play in his tone.

His smile softened a little, turning his gaze from lively to near flirtatious. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Suriya bristle. She took a step closer towards him, moving to sit down on his lap. She threw an arm about his shoulder and leaned into him. Michael changed his position a little so that he could support Suriya on his thigh and hold his coffee in his right hand to drink. Simone straightened herself in the club chair but did not take her eyes from Michael.

"Graduating early takes a lot of work," said Suriya. "Does that mean you'll be doubling up on classes."

"Yeah," said Simone. "I'll have to overload my schedule. I won't have too much free time, but...I think it'll be worth it. I mean, I practically have a job waiting for me at my father's firm if I can graduate fast."

"Don't try and graduate too quickly. There's still Spring Break," said Michael.

"You just wanna see someone in a bikini," Simone chided.

Michael did not answer but lifted his eyebrows in consideration of the thought. Suriya pinched his arm secretly. He returned to his coffee, pretending to not notice.

"With so much on your plate, what brings you out here? I would think you would be too bogged down with studying," said Suriya.

"Actually, I'm glad that I ran into you," Simone said, directing her answer more to Michael than to Suriya. "I was wondering since you are the highest-ranked student in Dean Cureton's Chemistry class if you wouldn't mind tutoring me? I could pay you the same amount I charged for language lessons."

Michael nodded, considering the proposal. "I suppose I could carve out some time to sit down a few hours with you each week. Dean Cureton allows me access to the lab. You could meet me there."

"What time?"

"Whatever is convenient for you," said Michael.

"I'll check my calendar," said Simone.

"Were you looking for Michael?" Suriya asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, and no," Simone answered. "I figured I would run into him at some point. I just came out here to try and find a swimsuit."

"It's almost winter," said Suriya.

"Yeah, I know, but I'll be going to the Isle of Crete in a few days to visit with some family. My uncle Walter got sick and they don't think he is going to make it."

"Your uncle is sick?" Michael looked at Simone with a question, wondering where she was going with her story.

"Yes. Uncle Walter. You remember him. You met him when I first arrived on campus. He was the one that was helping me move in." Simone gave Michael a steady look.

Michael nodded as though remembering the day.

"He was nice," Michael added.

"I'm so sorry to hear that he is sick," said Suriya attempting to sound sympathetic, but her tone still held a bit of venom in it.

"It's okay," answered Simone. Her expression turned to concern as she played with her drink cup between her fingertips. "He is old and he lived a great life. I figured I'd go see him before…"

Simone looked down, unable to finish the sentence. Michael, despite Suriya sitting on his lap, leaned in towards Simone as best he could. He reached for Simone's hand to give her comfort. Simone, noticing Michael's extended hand, took it, and gave a little squeeze. Michael let go of Simone and pulled his hand back to himself. Suriya stood up from Michael's lap.

"When are you going?" asked Michael quietly.

"In about a week," Simone answered. "I haven't finalized the date yet. I'm still trying to decide if I'm going to go. I don't know if I can do it on my own."

"You and Walter were close," said Michael. "What's stopping you from going?"

Simone shook her head. "It's silly. I should just get over it, but...I guess...I guess I'm a little afraid of flying."

"You're not from here, though. You had to have flown here, right? Don't you take a plane back home?" asked Suriya, looking a bit confused.

"I do, but I'm always with someone when I do," Simone explained. "I have never once flown on a plane by myself. I would ask my roommate to come with me, but she is going to be doing some intensive studying in this program at the university. She won't be able to go with me."

The concern in her expression pulled a little at Michael until he almost believed her story. He was still a little confused at what she was doing, but he was willing to play along to see where it would all lead. He felt himself wanting more than anything to hold her, even if he knew what she was saying and the emotions she was expressing were all fake. At the moment, he could not tell if Suriya was believing the story, but he did notice she was becoming annoyed with his reaction to it. Her eyes burned a hole in the side of his face the more he continued to show empathy towards Simone.

"Maybe you should have someone else go with you," said Suriya. "Like a boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend I could ask," Simone said a little too flatly. She warmed up her tone once more with a somewhat wavering smile. "I, sort of, broke up with him before I knew about this trip."

"Really?" Michael seemed to perk up a little at the news. He cut a glance back at Suriya and fell back into his seat. "What happened?"

"Caught the little rat bastard cheating with the girl down the hall from me," said Simone.

How she said the words made Michael almost believe she was angered about the mythical cheating boyfriend. Suriya put her hands on her hips, watching their melodrama. She looked at Michael with heavy intensity as her lips pressed down into a thin line across her face.

"I guess it was best you found out before you took him with you to Crete," said Michael.

"Probably," said Simone. "But now I don't know anybody who would want to spend a few days in Crete looking at a sick old man."

"I'm sure you could find somebody who would want to go," said Suriya, her tone now sounding very weary of the subject.

"You're not going to be spending the entire time at the hospital. Why else would you be looking for swimwear?" asked Michael, ignoring Suriya's hardened glare at him.

Simone smiled. "You got me there. No. I'm not planning to spend the whole day with my uncle. I do want to get some sun while I'm visiting. I mean, it's like a free mini-vacation before Fall break. The beaches will be clear. I'll have the sands all to myself."

"Maybe you could get one of your cousins to go with you," Suriya suggested. She got up from Michael's lap.

Simone shook her head. "I don't have any cousins around here. I'm the only one. It doesn't solve the problem of me getting on that plane by myself. I really just need a friend...who wouldn't mind sharing a room…"

"Maybe I could go with you," said Michael in a soft voice, barely audible behind his coffee cup.

"That would be awesome if you would!" Simone piped up, smiling brightly. "It would be like when we were freshmen and had to share that cabin in Brittany. It was so much fun!"

"I don't remember much of that," said Michael, unsure of how to build on Simone's story.

"Of course you don't," Simone laughed. "You spent much of the trip drunk off red wine and singing folk songs to a very confused room attendant."

Michael caught Simone's smile and the short wink added. He could not help the blush that began at the sight of Simone's mischievous little expression. He nodded, agreeing to the story and happy he did not have to contribute much more to it. From Suriya's very obvious scowl, their improvised play was doing what was intended.

"You should come," said Simone. "It'll be nice to have an old friend by my side helping me through this."

"He can't," said Suriya flatly.

Both Simone and Michael looked at Suriya. In their excitement, they had forgotten she was standing in front of them watching. Her expression, although smeared with a smile, told of her very plain disapproval of the subject matter. Her dark eyes went squarely to Michael.

"Why can't I go?" asked Michael with some challenge in his tone.

"Because," said Suriya. "You'll be out of town yourself when she goes to visit with her uncle. You'll be with me...in Egypt."

"Egypt?" Simone sounded both impressed and a little confused. "Why are you going to Egypt?"

"I have business there," answered Suriya, focusing on Simone. "And Michael expressed a desire to come along to learn."

"When are you going?" Simone directed the question to Michael, but Suriya answered.

"In a few days. I am buying our tickets this afternoon."

"You are?" Michael was genuinely surprised.

"Of course," said Suriya, smiling warmly at Michael. "It has been on my to-do list. I had some time to think it through and I wanted to surprise you with it later on tonight...At dinner."

Michael did not respond. He looked down at his cup, then over towards Simone. He gave her a partial grin.

"No worries. I'm sure I can figure this out," said Simone. "I don't guess it's that big of a deal to fly to Crete alone. I mean...we all have to face our demons at some point, right. As you said, once I get there, I won't be alone. My family will be there waiting for me."

"You're a big girl. I'm sure you can handle it," said Suriya.

Simone smiled again, but it was not as bright as it had been earlier. She looked briefly at her watch then pulled up quickly from the chair.

"I better be going," said Simone. "I have somewhere to be in a few hours and I still haven't found a bathing suit."

Simone adjusted her satchel over her shoulder then bent to give Michael a quick kiss on both his cheeks.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow." Simone turned to Suriya. "It's great seeing you again. Good luck on your trip."

Suriya nodded. Simone gave another quick smile back at Michael before disappearing among the clothing racks inside the boutique. Michael looked after Simone a while, before returning to Suriya. He leaned back, tilting his head slightly. Suriya's expression bordered on anger and deep concern. Her arms were crossed again over her breasts as she bore a very wary glare at Michael.

"What did I do now?" asked Michael.

"Why would you agree to go with her to visit her uncle?"

"She's a friend who needed help," Michael answered plainly.

"She's not just a friend, Michael, nor is she trying to be. Who asks someone to go with them on a beach weekend to act as a security blanket because they're afraid to fly?"

"Probably someone afraid to fly, but doesn't want to disappoint her family," said Michael.

"If she was so fearful of flying, she would have told her family that she needed someone to fly with her. God, Michael, are you that naive? Don't you see what she was trying to do?"

"She wasn't trying to do anything...except ask for help."

Suriya shook her head, not wanting to believe Michael's explanation. She began to pace back and forth with her fists on her hips.

"No. That little minx was up to something. She was planning. She came here to look for you and was trying to play the damsel in distress and you were falling for it hook, line, and sinker! If I hadn't said anything, you'd be well on your way to Crete with her, running around with her in her bikini...sleeping in her room...God only knows what else…"

"It'd be better than hanging about the campus alone. At least there, I can have some fun."

Michael hid the self-indulgent grin that played at his lips. He could not help the short measure of pleasure he derived from inciting the very feelings he desired to induce. As much as he wanted to smile, he held it back and displayed, instead, a blank expression.

"I suppose you aren't having any fun with me then," said Suriya, her tone inching towards being accusatory.

"Not at this present moment, no," Michael answered honestly.

"Then why don't you go with her!" Suriya shouted back.

"Why would I want to go with her when I've been trying to go away with you? But you don't want me with you."

"It's a business trip, Michael," Suriya countered.

"You won't be in business the entire day."

Michael stood to his feet, leaving the now empty drink cup on the floor next to the chair. He went to Suriya and held her shoulders.

"Why would I ever want to go anywhere without you? Even if I'm there on the sands with Simone, my heart will be in Alexandria...with you."

Suriya looked into Michael's eyes. She searched him a little, finding his sincerity, then sank into his arms. She wrapped her arms about him, squeezing him tightly.

"You drive me to madness you know," Suriya said into his shoulder. "When I think I have you figured out, you turn a corner again and I'm lost. But I don't mind the journey...because each time I find you, I fall head over heels in love with you again and again."

She looked into his eyes once more with loving, tear-filled eyes.

"Wherever I go, you go."

"Do you promise?" asked Michael.

Suriya pulled back from Michael a little more and made a gesture, crossing her heart with her index finger.

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Michael smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on her lips. Suriya pulled out of Michael's arms, holding onto his hand and began leading him towards the dressing rooms. A slight devilish grin spread over her face.

"Where are we going?" Michael asked curiously as he followed.

"I think I'll need some help getting into the other outfits," said Suriya.

Michael grinned as he allowed Suriya to pull him back behind the heavy linen drapes of the dressing room.

---

Simone drummed down the steps of the back stairwell heading for Madeline's office. Her mind raced with all the tasks she had to complete before the end of her shift as well as a few errands she needed to take care of before she made it back to her apartment. The morning was full of busywork with hardly any missions going live for her to be concerned about. All day, she spent much of her time running files back and forth between Communications, Systems, and Madeline's office. Other missions currently running suddenly seemed to break with new intel and developments that all had to be reviewed, decoded, reviewed again, confirmed, cataloged in encrypted databases before a final report could be made, and sent to Madeline's office for further inspection. Normally the process would not be relegated to field agents, but with so many of them not on missions, both Madeline and Operations felt it beneficial to have a few of the higher-ranked agents assist with the less than glamorous details of counterterrorism monitoring.

She never minded days like these as it kept her busy and focused on what others would consider mundane and boring. For her, it was safe. She did not have to worry about bullets whizzing past her head, or the timer on bombs going off sooner than expected. She did not have to worry if her cover would be blown, or if her watercress salad was laced with strychnine. She could simply do her work, turn in her daily report, and then go home to enjoy a cup of herbal green tea and listen to the city outside her window. The holidays were fast approaching with much of the world starting to festively sparkly with red, green, and blue lights. Even though she was never one to celebrate much, grouping the holidays into the same barrel of care she lumped birthdays, anniversaries, and vacations. They were nice when they were there and there was someone to share them with, but it was never anything she made a point to look forward towards each year. The only day that she did revere each year was the day her husband was killed. It marked the moment of her freedom, or so she had considered it at the time. Had she known she was trading one prison for another, she would have fallen on the same sword her husband was murdered with.

Simone twisted around the steel column and nearly slammed into Michael coming up the opposite direction. She stumbled backward, unprepared for the hard barrier of his chest as he stood in front of her. He smiled with a simple upturn of his lips and his light eyes catching the electric glow of the footlights within them. He was dressed in a black sports jacket, dark grey shirt, and slacks. Around his neck hung a tiny silver cross. His deep brown curls, though combed, continued to object to his attempts at controlling it. A trio of curls spiraled over his brows adding to his very boyish appearance. His scent was light, airy as if mixed with the ocean and sky. He smelled like fresh air amid the metallic and heat of the stairwell.

"Sorry," he said, taking a step back to give Simone a bit more room.

Simone straightened her black turtleneck sweater over her slacks. She regarded Michael and adopted a soldier's stance, placing her hands behind her back.

"Just coming from Madeline's?" she asked.

"Yes. I wanted to give her more details from my report I made earlier."

"On the Meijers case?"

"Yes. There is a date set now. I'll be leaving with her next Thursday. I'll be returning on Friday evening once the documents are all signed and the shipment is ready to leave the dock."

"Are you going to be there with her?"

"If I need to, I'll figure out a way to tag along."

Simone nodded. "I bet Madeline was very happy to hear that. I'm sure you're just as thrilled to know this whole thing is about to be over."

"I'll be happy to move on to something else," Michael admitted.

Simone offered a short grin. "Well...I better get to Madeline's office with this file. She hates waiting."

"Simone."

Simone paused and looked at Michael. He moved in closer towards her and softly took her hand into his. Slowly, he drew the hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. He lowered her hand but did not let go immediately. Instead, he lightly held on to her fingertips.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I let Madeline know that you were a large part of the reason why things changed in the progress of the mission. Her jealousy of you helped to make her decide to bring me along with her on her trip. She liked you, up until she started to think that you liked me...and that I might like you back. She certainly didn't take too well to the swimsuit idea. Nice touch by the way."

"I could tell she wasn't fond of me the minute she stepped out of that dressing room. Had she lasers for eyes, she would have burned me to a crisp."

The two laughed together, recalling Suriya's very intense expression. Michael continued to hold Simone's fingers, not letting go. Simone regarded this and gave Michael a questioning look.

"I just wanted to tell you thank you," Michael explained, reading Simone's look.

"It was your plan. You knew what would work."

"But you helped it come together seamlessly. I would have never thought to tell the kind of story you created."

"Are you saying you're impressed?" Simone gave Michael a playful smirk.

"Not officially," Michael returned with a sly grin. "It wouldn't have worked with anyone else."

Simone pulled her hand from him slowly, feeling a reluctance within herself growing. Her mind told her that she needed to move on through the corridor, but she did not want to leave Michael's presence just then. The soft way in which he held her fingertips and focused her in his gaze felt like an all-encompassing embrace. His ocean water scent and deep curls gave her visions of waves breaking against white crystal shores. She felt lost again in his eyes, drawn into the fantasies she worked hard to banish from her midnight thoughts. Jurgen's words returned to her once more with a warning, freeing her from Michael's hypnotic allure. She knew he was not doing it on purpose. He likely did not know the way he always managed to trap her within his stare. It was a natural trait for him, like a superpower that only he possessed. She was aware of the danger of falling victim to a man that could not entirely belong to her. Instead, she averted her eyes and walked past him, determined to not be another casualty.

"Simone," Michael called again.

Simone paused and turned her head slightly over her shoulder.

"We're still partners, right?" said Michael.

Thought a moment on the question and all of its true meaning. She looked at Michael and smiled.

"We never weren't…"

---

The next few days felt like a whirlwind. Michael met with his etiquette trainer, an English Valentine operative named Gavin, who felt it necessary to brag about all the dignitaries he sat before and convinced of his blue-blood heritage. In truth, Gavin was no bluer than the contacts he wore in his eyes to give him the appearance of being. His dark hair and pulled smile made Michael think of him as being slick like slime and corrosive. His dapper demeanor hid much darker motives. It was clear to Michael upon the first few weeks of working with Gavin that he was sent to not only teach Michael how to behave himself among the aristocracy, but how to further manipulate anyone into bending to his will.

"It will not matter who is at the table, Michael. You control the room." Gavin circled Michael as he sat at a mock dinner table set up as if expecting a five-course meal to be served. "It could be the Queen of England or an Arabian Sheik, you must exude a presence that is both menacing and attractive to everyone present. They have to want you. They may not even know why. They just do."

Michael kept his hands clasped in his lap, listening, and mentally taking notes. He could imagine himself sitting at a table full of very important men and women, all discussing subjects he was only mildly familiar with. At the end of the table, he spotted a woman, his target.

"Do you see her?" said Gavin. "Now you must connect with her. Make yourself the only person she will ever see among everything and everyone else around her. She is all that you see. All that you want."

Michael opened his eyes and saw the vision he held in his mind of the woman sitting at the end of a long dinner table. Her dark eyes focused on him, realizing his attention.

"It's easy with a woman," said Gavin. "The way that you look will get you most of the way through the door. But can you do it with a man?"

"It's not the same kind of connection," said Michael, continuing to stare at the woman at the end of the table. Her unblinking eyes remained steady with him.

"Doesn't matter. He still has to want you."

Michael furrowed his brow. "Sexually?"

"Whatever works," said Gavin. "Your objective is not to sleep with them, so do not play it like that. Your intention is not the bedroom. It is to simply be wanted. Your focus is to get them to want you, to want to touch you, and allow you to touch them without drawing suspicion."

Michael continued to look at the woman at the end of the table, noticing the film of the hologram beginning to flicker. The rest of the table along with its patrons began to static in and out of focus before the scene dissolved. Michael was once more sitting alone at a small square table set up for dinner. Gavin pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. He crossed his legs and held his hands in the same position as Michael.

"The man that you are going to see is very private and guarded. He has never had his picture taken by anyone, he prefers to remain out of the spotlight, and has been successful in being very elusive. As a shadow member of Crimson Sky, we expect he will have lots of people around him dedicated to keeping him a secret. If he suspects you of being anything more than what you are presenting to him, he will kill you and your date on the spot."

Michael nodded, processing.

"Therefore," said Gavin within a breathy sigh. "It will be of the utmost importance for you to not only make a good impression but to hold his attention long enough for you to make the positive ID and get him close enough to you and comfortable enough to allow you to touch him. A simple handshake will do fine, however, this is a man that doesn't touch anyone or leave much of a trace of himself. Likely, the person that Suriya has been talking to is not Armand Bashir. The person she thinks she's meeting is not who he says that he is."

"How will I know that it is him?" Michael looked up at Gavin.

"You'll know which one is the real Bashir by recognizing which man is doing all of the talking and which man isn't saying much of anything at all."

"The man talking won't be Bashir," Michael guessed.

"Likely not. He will be a stand-in. You will need to look for the guy with wary eyes. The one that stands away from the transaction and makes no move towards meeting the two of you personally. He's the guy you are going to need to connect with. The guy you will need to get to want you."

Michael nodded. "How do I do that?"

Gavin reached and grabbed the pitcher of water standing in the center of the table. He poured a glass of water and gestured for Michael to take a drink. Michael took the glass and brought it to his lips. He looked up at Gavin, noticing that he was staring at him. Michael sat the glass back down on the table.

"It won't be easy, but it's not impossible." Gavin reached for the wine glass on the table and poured some water into it. He took a quick sip, licking his lips. "Humans are creatures of attraction. We are the only beings that can both turn on and turn off our desired mates by choice. You are doing well with Suriya, being The Rake. You adore all that she does, you tolerate her varying moods, and you give her what she desires most...Power. For Bashir, you will need to be something more than what he is and what she is in the room. You will have to be the object of both their desires. Something to reach for. Something so unattainable, they might as well be trying to capture the moon. But then you lower yourself just close enough for them to dare to touch you."

"How?"

"With the same desire you had when I poured you the water and offered it to you to drink. You wanted to drink it but didn't. Why?"

"I don't know why I didn't drink it," Michael answered. "I just didn't. I wasn't supposed to."

"Who told you that? I offered it to you to drink."

Michael felt Gavin's oppressive gaze and wanted to somehow move away from it. Instead, he pulled in a breath and steadied himself. He met Gavin's eyes head-on.

"I thought it best to not drink it at that time."

"In the same way that you held yourself back from drinking the water, you must also hold a little back from your target. They must want you just as much as you wanted the water but refrain from giving everything all at once. Bashir must want to take full council with just you and you alone. Although Suriya will be there, you will need to cancel her out by being the more interesting object in the room. She may have all the paperwork, but you will be the real jewel."

Gavin stood to his feet and crossed over to a kiosk. He typed on the keyboard, transferring files to a folder, then downloaded the folder to a disc. Once the transfer was complete as indicated by the status bar scrolling across the monitor, he pulled the disc and returned to the table.

"This is everything we know about Bashir's foundations and charities. Study it carefully."

Michael reached to take the file, but Gavin held it away from him, teasingly.

"This is not for you to learn and then spout back at him. To understand the man, you must get to know where he throws his money. The fastest way to learn about someone is to discover what they invest in. Bashir uses these charities to both fund and cover Crimson Sky activities. His larger accounts focus on social aid programs. Isn't it odd how one hand to help, hides the gun in the other."

Gavin gave Michael the disc, then folded his arms back to himself.

"Jurgen is in Munitions with Walter. They are waiting for you to teach you how not to lose your hand when using the tracking enzyme. Good luck."

---

The heat of the day bore down heavy on Michael as he stepped from the plane on to the tarmac. The small, private jet rested a few yards away after having made the four-hour trek. The trip seemed much longer with Suriya and her endless complaints about the process of transporting themselves and their belongings from one city to another. She began that morning already in a fluster. Her dark eyes narrowed at the attendant at the gate who took their tickets. She wanted to pre-board, but with the jet not quite ready to take passengers, she was told she had to wait at the gate to board. Suriya shot back an insult, calling the attendant incompetent and disrespectful because the young woman regarded her dismissively. The attendant, appearing very familiar with passengers like Suriya, only repeated her instruction and followed it with a nod over to a row of benches. Michael could see where the following minutes would soon rise and decided to take action. He pulled Suriya with him, wrapping his arm around her waist, and led her over to the benches to sit. The attendant, grateful that someone had taken the fiery woman away, gave Michael an appreciative grin.

"Thank you," said Michael over his shoulder as he escorted a still fuming Suriya towards the seats.

He was dressed in a linen sports jacket and slacks, blue and tan deck shoes, and a white t-shirt. A pair of dark shades kept Suriya from seeing Michael rolling his eyes at each instance she made an unreasonable demand of those who hurriedly tried to move them along to their destination. Once seated on the small airplane, Suriya continued to show signs of her anxiousness and unwillingness to submit to someone else's control. She questioned the flight attendant about the time they were to leave, if all the safety checks were sufficiently completed, if the pilot would come and greet them, and if they had neck pillows...Were they allowed to drink while in flight?

Michael nearly let out a frustrated exhale, but sucked it down quickly before she could detect it. He was secretly happy there was not a large restroom at the rear of the plane. If the flight was long and they ended up flying on a much larger plane, he could almost guarantee she would suggest they test the occupancy limit. Before leaving to meet their flight, she alluded to her hope that they might join the Mile High Club on their journey. He had not said anything in response. He prayed that she might fall asleep, or that they are sandwiched between two others that would not allow them to move from their seats easily. He was happy to learn the restroom was a tight closet with barely room enough for one person to sit and dispose of oneself. He made a note not to drink much as he did not intend to try and comfortably fit in the compact water closet to relieve himself. He also did not want to give Suriya any ideas that he wanted to try and find out if joining the club was still possible. He sat at his window seat with Suriya beside him in the aisle seat, fussing more to herself than anyone else. He checked his watch, seeing that it was almost noon and they were still on the tarmac preparing to take off. Suriya maintained her grumbling. Michael thought to give her some comfort to try and calm her, but he chose to keep to himself. Of late, he found himself caring less and less about her discourse, and even less interested in her complaints. They were so innumerable, he felt it useless to try and encourage her peace. As soon as she was assured of one matter, she was quick to produce another calamity to replace the concern she had for the latter. It seemed she was not completely herself if she had nothing to be averse towards. When she could not find anything outside of her immediate control to argue against, she often and predictably turned her suspicions towards him with accusations of infidelity and insincerity.

"You seem to be handling this well," Suriya commented coarsely at Michael. "I wish that I could relax like you."

"You can," said Michael. He adjusted his neck pillow and leaned back as far as he could recline. "If you choose to."

"What's that supposed to me?" Suriya's tone was venomous.

"Stop worrying. Everything is fine."

"Fine…" Suriya regarded the words as if they were a horrible idea. "I'm sure everything is fine with you. Why wouldn't it be? You don't have a half-insane Arab screaming at you about storage fees and docking permissions all morning!"

Michael cut his eyes over to Suriya. Much of the morning found her juggling her attention between Michael and her phone. Although Michael showed little concern over the fact that she was on her phone more often than normal, he had to keep her wondering if his passiveness was due to his lack of care or his growing impatience. Her eyes searched him with every conversation she was pulled into with her client, looking for a reason to need to hurry away from her conversation. When he did not give her any, but instead waited in the wings for her to acknowledge him once more, she seemed stirred to frenzy. Michael purposefully looked off into the distance of wherever they happened to be, giving him the appearance of having a wandering mind and possibly an eye.

"You worry too much," said Michael before relaxing back in his seat.

"You don't worry enough," Suriya accused. "Not everything works itself out well in the end. Some things require a careful and diligent hand. You can't just leave it all to the wind to sort."

Michael sighed heavily.

"You're ruining our vacation," he said in a sing-song tone.

"This is work," Suriya bit back.

"Okay, then you're ruining my vacation." Michael turned his head and gave Suriya a playful smile.

Although the fury in her eyes remained, the scowl accompanying it began to lessen as she regarded Michael's boyish grin. Her hard expression softened into a smirk. Her attention was drawn again towards her phone as it vibrated in her lap. She snapped it up quickly and answered it with a sharp, yes. Down the aisle, a flight attendant made her way slowly towards them checking the seats and the patrons in them. They were approaching takeoff. Suriya continued to talk to her client, confirming order numbers. The flight attendant stopped at their row and looked tenderly at them.

"Excuse me, ma'am? We're about to take off. Would you mind ending your call and putting away your phone?"

Suriya ignored the attendant and continued with her conversation with her client.

"Ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am?"

Suriya shot a searing look at the attendant. She instructed the client to hold a moment, then covered the receiver with her hand.

"I am on the phone with a very important client, right now. The plane is not going to leave for another twenty minutes probably. So if you don't mind…"

"I understand, madame, but the pilot has already stated-"

"The pilot has yet to finish his safety checks and the two of you have not done your safety instructions at the front of the plane telling your passengers of where the exits and barf bags can be found."

"Madame-"

"Furthermore, the entire time I have sat speaking to you about all the things that you're supposed to be doing before you come and bother me about me being on my phone, I could have finished my conversation with my very important client and would be ready to listen to your pathetic script at the front of the plane. So if you don't mind...I'd like to conclude my business."

The finishing look that Suriya gave the attendant promptly dismissed her. She resumed her conversation with her client apologizing for the interruption. The attendant looked at Michael as if seeking his support. Michael stretched his eyes under his shades and turned his attention out towards the window, unwilling to aid the braised woman. She straightened and moved on to the rows behind them, offering her pleasant warnings and admonishments before taking her place at the rear of the plane. Her counterpart, another woman with blonde curls and a fixed, practiced smile stood at the front of the plane, preparing to begin flight instructions. Just as the flight attendant started speaking over the intercom, Suriya ended her call and placed her phone inside of her purse. Michael looked over at Suriya, watching her as she pretended to pay careful attention to the instructions with a slight smirk on her lips. The attendant that she chastised remained at the rear of the plane until the instructions were over. She walked back towards the front of the plane to strap herself in, keeping her eyes forward so as not to catch Suriya's watchful eye. The pilot made a few announcements as well, informing his passengers of the estimated time they would arrive at their destination and that they should sit back and enjoy the flight. Michael relaxed in his seat, preparing for the four hours it would take to land in Borg El Arab International Airport in Alexandria.

Beside him, Suriya drew in a breath as the plane began to taxi into position. There was a small jolt as the jet began to climb to speed on the runway. As the pressure began to build with the speed of the aircraft moving down the runway, Suriya reached and grabbed Michael's hand. Michael, somewhat alarmed, looked over at Suriya with a questioning look realizing her hand gripping his. The jet began to ascend, shaking the cabin and vibrating the passengers as it climbed into the sky. Suriya closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

"I thought you flew all the time," said Michael leaning over to speak to Suriya privately.

"I do," said Suriya. "But I'm usually on commercial flights. First-class."

"So you've never flown on a plane like this before?"

"No. Never." Suriya continued to keep her eyes closed as the jet made its final jostling push through a bank of clouds to level into its air lane.

Michael did not hold back a small chuckle, noticing the irony in the fact that Suriya was not as comfortable on airplanes as she advertised. She made it seem that Simone was being a bit too dramatic about admitting her phobia of flying and needing a friend to go with her to help her deal with her anxiety. As she sat beside him, she gripped his hand so tightly, he felt his fingers grow numb. He was relieved to have his hand back once the plane stopped vibrating and the pressure returned to normal. He ignored Suriya's scathing glance at him as he drew his sore fingers back to himself and tucked them close to his body. He knew she expected him to continue to hold her hand the entire flight, but he simply could not and would not commit to that. He would eventually return to her later on during the flight, but for the present moment, he only wanted to be within himself and his thoughts for as much as he could on such a small flight. He was beginning to feel sore and achy from being handled so much both mentally and physically by Suriya. He hoped at some point during the flight she might fall asleep giving him a reprieve from being constantly concerned and attentive to her every whim and mood. She was tiresome and he knew his strain was beginning to show in the way that he was behaving towards her. He did little to defend her from those she deliberately attacked and found herself often entrenched in a battle with her opponent. She looked to him for his protection, but found him either silent or abandoned from his post having wandered away from the confrontations entirely.

They sat on the plane an hour in and they were already feeling cramped and impatient. Michael stretched his legs as much as he could without jamming his shins against the seat in front of him. He was beginning to secretly wish he could have gone to Crete with Simone even if it wasn't real. He was certain a flight with Simone would be less oppressive. She would likely not argue with baggage claim or dispute about how many bags she was allowed to have as a carry-on. She would not balk at having to wait at the gate for the plane to finish taxiing into place or cause a noticeable rift between herself and the attendant during a four-hour-long flight. It was even likely that with her being a Level 5 field operative, she was not in the least bit afraid of flying even the most run-down of aircraft or pause at having to jump out of one. Even though the plane they were on was a little cramped, it was a luxury compared to the last flight he took with Section.

There were no seats and he had to hold onto straps affixed to the walls so that there would be room to hold the large nuke missile they were transporting from one base to another. The flight was two hours in choppy weather and they were flying over restricted airspace. If their aircraft had been detected, they would have most certainly been shot down. It was the only flight he ever felt true fear on, but not because of the threat of being shot down. The weather that their tiny airplane had to fly through was extremely windy and they were warned that the nuclear missile they traveled with was unstable and could go off at the slightest of disturbances if hit at just the right point. He spent the entire two hours tense, holding his breath, and secretly praying he didn't pee himself each time they experienced rough turbulence. By the time they landed, he was so happy to finally be away from the missile, the first thing he did after delivering the package to the waiting military officers, was to race into the nearest restroom and vomit. It was one of his first missions while in training. While many of his other recruit mates had to be pressed into taking the mission, he volunteered. About halfway through the flight, he questioned why he had done it and what point was he intending to prove? There were no merits for bravery or even a scant glance of recognition. The mission was half expected to be a failure given they were going to be flying in hostile air lanes with a live nuke that could explode with any provocation. They weren't even guaranteed the military base would accept the missile delivered to them. They could have easily been met with MP officers ready to arrest them instead of a line of generals. The surprised expression on Operations' face upon their return let him know that their mission was not one that was expected to be successful. It was then that he knew life within Section was not intended to be long, and for most, it wasn't.

Their pilot announced they were making their final approach to the international airport. Michael looked out his small oval window and saw the beautiful and bright coastline of the ancient city coming into view over the horizon. The waters of the Mediterranean Sea shimmered gold and sea-foam blue in the waning afternoon sunlight. A row of tall tan buildings rimmed the coastline, mixing with ancient structures squatting in their shadows. He could see the beach still very crowded with tourists lounging about on the sands while local citizens fished on boats or along the mole that used to connect to the sunken Isle of Pharos. A long winding highway hugged the coastline creating a barrier between the beach and the buildings. Miles of traffic stretched down the lanes, filling up every available space until the road was scarcely seen without a vehicle occupying it. Beside him, Suriya stirred slightly. Her head rested on his shoulder as she slept. Michael adjusted himself again in his seat. He was now very stiff from having had to sit in an agreeable position so that Suriya could nap comfortably. The plane began its descent, flying over an expanse of empty sands until the airstrip came into view.

Michael shrugged Suriya awake, eager to remove her head from his shoulder so that he could finally stretch. Suriya yawned and tried to stretch as well, but found the seat in front of her impeding her efforts. A familiar frown came upon her face and her lips curled into a sneer.

"Are we landing yet?" she asked, seeing there was nothing that she could do.

"We are landing now," Michael answered quietly.

"Did you sleep?"

"No. I'll catch a small nap when we get to the hotel."

"Oh," said Suriya, sounding disappointed. "I was thinking we could go out to eat. I'm starving."

"Maybe a little later. It's been a long flight."

"Well, maybe you should have taken a nap, too," Suriya snapped.

She righted herself in her seat, now newly angered that Michael wanted to rest once they reached their hotel instead of taking her to dinner. She looked about the cabin of the plane and spied the flight attendant she argued with at the beginning of the flight. She waved her hand over to her, attempting to gain her attention.

"Miss! Hey, miss!"

"Suriya," Michael began, "We're about to land. What is it that you need?"

Suriya turned to Michael. "I want a bag of peanuts! I'm hungry."

"They stopped serving 45 minutes ago," Michael informed, not bothering to hide his growing impatience.

"But we're still in flight," Suriya argued.

"They are making their descent. No one is supposed to be up right now. Fasten your seatbelt."

"Why? The light isn't on yet."

Michael did not answer her. Instead, he pointed to the overhead signal light indicating they were to have their seatbelts fastened at this time. Suriya considered the light and blew out an exasperated push of air. Reluctantly, she pulled her seatbelt into place and snapped the lock closed around her waist. She grumbled under her breath about wanting just a small damn bag of nuts. Michael pulled in a steadying breath and peeled back the most tender grin he could muster.

"I'll get you some peanuts before we leave the plane," said Michael softly.

"I'm not going to want some overpriced peanuts at the end of the flight when I could get a whole plate of food at a restaurant for nearly the same price."

"Fine." Michael gritted his teeth. "As soon as we are settled in our hotel, I will take you someplace to get some food."

"I thought you wanted to take a nap?" Suriya looked at Michael warily, noticing the stiffness in his voice.

"If you are hungry, I will get you food. I can go to sleep once we are back in the room." Michael tried to keep himself calm, but his exhaustion and hunger were turning his otherwise tranquil mood, sour.

Suriya smiled, realizing her victory. "You know, you are just the best boyfriend any woman could have." She leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. "I'm very lucky to call you mine."

Michael wanted to smile authentically back but could only muster a slight, wavering grin. He rubbed her knee reassuringly then focused his eyes back out towards the approaching tarmac.

Once landed, the two made their way from the jet to the tunnel that led to the terminal gate. They collected their luggage from the baggage claim and began out towards the platform to await a cab. Suriya continued her complaints about the heat, the disorganization of the baggage claim, and the length of time it took to procure a cab. Michael loaded their bags into the trunk of the small cab and held the door open for Suriya to climb inside. Their driver, an Egyptian cabbie, first began to speak in Arabic, but, upon seeing Suriya and Michael, quickly switched his speech to broken English.

"The Cecil Hotel, please," Suriya instructed, ignoring the cabbie's attempt at being friendly.

"Yes ma'am, thank you, ma'am."

Michael attempted to not show how nervous he was with how the cab driver was navigating the often unmarked lanes of the three-lane highway. Buses and cars merged and cut through one another on their hurried way towards their various destinations. Their driver threaded through the traffic, stopping abruptly at times just shy of slamming into the back of another vehicle. He played what Michael assumed was Egyptian pop music. The lyrics to the songs, although upbeat and catchy, were in Arabic. Michael made a note to learn the language once he returned to Section.

When they arrived at the Cecil Hotel, Michael stepped out of the cab and escorted Suriya onto the sidewalk. The heat of the day continued to bear down on their shoulders mixing with a heavy, sweating humidity that nearly took Michael's breath away. He pulled the cases out of the trunk and paid the cabbie his fare. Suriya did not stay long to assist with bringing her luggage. She raced inside the hotel leaving Michael to deal with the multiple bags. A hotel attendant appeared from the doorway where Suriya disappeared. He looked at Michael before wordlessly beginning to help him transfer the luggage to a rolling luggage cart. Michael was grateful for the help, feeling more drained than ever and knowing he desperately needed to lie down or else he might pass out. Suriya completed the room reservation paperwork and took the keycard from the female concierge at the desk. She cast a look back at Michael and waved him to follow her. Obediently, both Michael and the attendant pulled their labor with them towards the bank of elevators.

The three of them made it to the reserved suite. Suriya tore through the room, inspecting it while Michael and the attendant pushed the cart inside. Michael turned and thanked the attendant and passed to him a few bills for his trouble. The attendant smiled broadly and made several bows as he exited the room. Suriya reappeared in the front room with a smile as Michael put away his wallet into his back pocket. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her for a kiss.

"We can put away our things later," she said. "Let's go get something to eat."

She started to pull away when Michael held onto her, drawing her back to his arms. He pulled her into a hungrier kiss, crushing her into him. He went through in his mind, the steps of seduction, making a careful note to slow himself.

"When you arrive at your room, delay long enough for Richards to pinpoint your position. This will take approximately twenty to thirty minutes for your link to transmit to our satellite. When the link is established, you will hear your comm unit come online," Madeline had said just before he left to pick up Suriya to head to the airport. "Once your comm unit comes online, you will hear instructions of what to do next. Our team will already be in place near where your room is. Follow their instruction directly as you will be expected to make several check-ins during your assignment. Failure to do so will result in assumed mission failure and abortion which will have its consequences."

"What sort of consequences?" Michael asked, picking up on the grave manner in which Madeline spoke.

"A Cleaner will be dispatched to sanitize the area. I suggest you pay careful attention to your check-in times and be certain to make them. I would hate to have to resort to such measures and lose what we all agree is a good operative."

Michael continued to kiss Suriya deeply, backing her up towards the couch. Although the room was blessedly cool, he felt himself growing warmer from the passion he made himself conjure to convince Suriya of his desire. His heat became contagious, encouraging her to begin removing clothing as their lips remained pressed together. He remembered to react according to her touch, releasing sounds of urgency once she was under his full spell.

Slow...Go slowly, he reminded himself. Savor her…

After a while, he began to hear small crackling noises in his left ear. He continued to kiss and nip at Suriya's neck as his fingers played along her hip to pull at the thin fabric of her thong. She began to lick at his neck. The crackling noises continued making his ear itch and tingle. He fought himself not to dig out the comm unit from his ear. Its interference helped him to pull himself away from what his body was instructed to perform. Once more, he went back through the steps, moving with precise intention leaving out nothing from his training. In response, Suriya seemed all the more lost within her ecstasy, forgetting for the moment her grumbling stomach. He was well within his final steps when the comm unit finally made a clicking noise, followed by a series of beeps. At last, Richards' voice came over the unit testing the audio clarity.

"Raven, do you read? Confirm."

"Uh-huh!" Michael exhaled.

Beneath him, Suriya moaned in response to what she thought was his pleasured groaning.

"Whoa…" Michael heard Richards respond, realizing quickly.

He had to push back a laugh and replace it with another struggling groan.

"Report back once you are...alone."

"Hmmm, hmmm."

Michael continued with his performance driving Suriya to heights of elation that she screeched within a high note at her climax. Shaking and sweating, he feigned reaching the same end, while beating back his ebbing completion.

"Don't ever complete," Gavin warned him. "If you complete within a woman, she will have you at her mercy. You do not ever want to give up control. Not to any woman. Bring her to your submission, but never allow yourself to submit. Always hold back. You can finish yourself in the shower when you are done."

Michael pulled away from Suriya, leaving her gasping on the floor next to the couch.

"Where are you going?" she asked, noticing his quick retreat.

"Shower," said Michael. "I feel very sticky."

Suriya raised on her elbows, watching Michael as he disappeared into the adjoining bedroom and en suite. He turned on the shower and closed the bathroom door. Once he was certain he was alone, he tapped the unit in his ear.

"Raven to report."

"Oh hi!" came Richards' too cheerful greeting. When Michael did not respond, he continued. "You will need to be out of the room for about two hours so that our team can wire the room. They will also place your effects. It will look like men's products brought in by the hotel concierge. A bottle of men's moisturizer is your main concern. This is the enzyme you will need to use to mark the target. Do not put this on until you are about to go and meet him. You will need to leave it in place for an hour so that it will absorb into your skin. After that, you will have about twenty minutes to make contact with the target to transfer the enzyme to him. After which, you will need to wash your hands so that the enzyme does not begin to corrode your skin."

"Skin to skin?" Michael asked in a hushed voice. He leaned against the mahogany sink cabinet as the bathroom began filling with steam.

"Yes. You'll need to touch Bashir. A simple handshake will do. Once the transfer is made, much of the marker will be on the target. If you guess wrong which one is the target, we will end up seizing the wrong person so be certain of who you are tagging before you move to shake hands."

"What if there's a room full of men?"

"Then I suggest you play coy," said Richards flatly. "Once you've identified the target and he has been marked, give your confirmation statement as a Pleasure to meet you. After this, your assignment will be complete. A team will arrive shortly after to pick him up. You and your date can go about the rest of your evening however you wish. Just remember to wash your hand directly before the burning starts. If you begin to burn, washing won't help. The enzyme would have already eaten down to your lower muscles and would have affected your nerves. So don't forget to wash your hands. Your first check-in time is in two hours. I've already sent it to your cellular number to contact. Don't be late. Understand?"

"Confirmed…"

"Good luck, Raven."

---

After a quick nap and a bit of arguing over where they should go and eat dinner, Michael and Suriya left their room and headed east from their hotel. They ate dinner at a Lebanese and Mediterranean cuisine restaurant using the pictures of the food on the menu as a guide to help them convey their order to the waiter. Thankfully, he understood some Latin, which Michael spoke fluently. He smiled appreciatively and took their menus. Michael returned to Suriya who eyed him with both question and awe.

"Another little surprise," she said above the rim of her water glass.

"What do you mean?"

"You can speak Latin," said Suriya. She rested her glass on the table and looked at him directly. "I wonder what other sorts of secret talents you possess."

"You'll know them in time," Michael said with a slow smile.

He reached across the table and took her hand into his. He rubbed her knuckles with the pad of this thumb, considering the delicateness of each digit he caressed. He watched her take another sip of her water with her expression reading her deeper concerns beginning to surface once more in her thoughts. Although he knew she preferred to keep her thoughts to herself so that she could brood over them, he hated seeing her so tortured by them. Since the beginning of their trip, she appeared more and more uneasy, fidgeting and wringing her hands anxiously, and becoming more agitated each time her phone buzzed for her attention. He could only imagine how unhinged she would be if he weren't there with her to help calm her nerves. He was beginning to suspect that her erratic behavior was not because of her controlling nature being tested with every moment, but was the direct reaction to her feelings towards the meeting she was about to go into with her client. It was apparent to him then that she was...scared!

"It will be alright," Michael said in his most comforting tone.

"What will?"

"Your meeting," Michael answered. "It is what you're thinking about, right? Your meeting with Bashir?"

Suriya turned to Michael. Her expression read that she was grateful he knew her so well, or at the very least, well enough to deduce her concern without her having to spell it out for him.

"It's my first really important account. I don't want to mess it up."

"You think bringing me along might send a confusing message...especially since he asked you to come alone."

"That has crossed my mind, yes."

"Would you feel better if I stayed in the room?" Michael cautioned himself for proposing this option and hoped it would garner him the desired answer. He knew he was taking a hefty risk with his question.

Suriya stalled in her answer, considering the option. Michael stiffened a little, hoping he did not gamble too much. To increase his odds, he pulled her fingers to his lips and planted the softest lingering kiss to them. Her expression changed again, appearing conflicted in her new choices. In the warm glow of the Mediterranean wall sconces, his eyes shimmered in opaque colors of blue, green, and hazel. Suriya's icy demeanor melted completely, relaxing fully into his hand.

"No. I want you with me," she conceded. "I don't want you stuck in the hotel the entire time. Or getting lost in this maze of a city."

"Alexandria is a Roman city built on a grid. I think I could find my way back home fine enough." Michael smiled.

"Yeah, well...It's a maze for me. So maybe I need you for directions," Suriya laughed a little.

Their food came, hot and smelling deliciously of cooked beef, onions, peppers, and assorted vegetables. There was a side of freshly baked pita bread and a dipping sauce. Once they had tasted their meal, Michael checked his watch, noting the time. It was nearly two hours and time for his first check-in. He slid from his seat and buttoned his dress coat.

"Where are you going?" asked Suriya.

"To the restroom," Michael explained. "I won't be long."

Suriya waved him away dismissively as her phone began ringing from her purse. Michael took the convenient moment to disappear towards the hall leading to the restaurant's restrooms and pulled out his phone. Quickly, and not a minute past his due time, he dialed the number programmed into his cellular and confirmed his credentials.

"Very good, Michael," said Madeline on the other end of the line. "The team has finished in your room. When you return, you will need to turn on the television to activate our camera systems. It will only need to be on for a few minutes and then you can turn it back off. Keep it at the station that it is currently on. It will blink off for a second then return to its normal picture once our cameras have synced. Then you will be able to turn the television to whatever you prefer."

"Okay," said Michael.

"How was your flight?" asked Madeline.

"Cramped, but not bad," Michael answered honestly.

"Do you like Alexandria?"

"From what I've seen, it's nice."

Madeline was quiet for a moment. In the background, Michael could hear the tapping of keys on a keyboard. She was taking notes. Michael swallowed, remembering this was not a social call. He wrapped his arms about him, giving himself a bit of comfort as he stood in the narrow hallway. A man emerged from the men's restroom, wiping his hands on his trousers. He gave a hard look at Michael as he passed him. Michael kept his gaze with the man until he vanished around the corner heading in the direction of the kitchen.

"What is your plan to meet with Bashir?" asked Madeline.

"I haven't worked that out just yet."

"You will need to get Suriya to agree to allow you to meet with him-"

"I know that, Madeline. I'm working that out right now," Michael responded a bit too quickly.

"I will want your plan at your next check-in. That's three hours from now." Madeline's tone dropped all diplomacy.

"I will have it to you," said Michael resolutely.

"Good. See to it that you do. When you enter your room this evening, don't forget about the TV. Our surveillance must have those cameras in place."

"Why do I have to have cameras in the room, again? Suriya is already being recorded on all of her devices as well as those that are on me. Why would there be a need for visuals?"

"The cameras are not for Suriya," said Madeline evenly. "They are for you."

"Why are they for me?" Michael was a little confused.

"You should know by now, Michael, we will know everything that you say and do both on and off missions. So be careful of what you choose to say...or act. We're always watching."

Michael could detect Madeline's trademark easy grin that always seemed to slide onto her maroon lips each time she felt advantaged. And she was advantaged, he knew, just by the mere fact that if he wanted to remain alive, he had to concede to her direction no matter how he felt about it.

You aren't you anymore, Michael...All that will matter is that you do it, whatever it is that needs to be done...

Michael ended his call and headed back to his table. Suriya was already off of her call and drinking her water with voracious thirst. He could see by the droplets on the tablecloth that she had sampled the sauce and found it too spicy for her tastes. He took his seat and continued to eat. After Suriya lowered her glass, Michael quickly refilled it with the pitcher left at the table.

"Your client again?" asked Michael.

"He's getting anxious. I had to assure him that the cargo will be well taken care of in the storage containers. It will incur additional fees, but it's all to ensure the safety and integrity of the parcel he is shipping."

"That's standard," said Michael. "What's the problem?"

"He thinks I'm bleeding him for more money by having the cargo be stored within containers instead of moving them directly to his carriers. I explained to him that there are still documents that must be signed by him, which I am bringing to him in the morning, to finalize the shipping agreement. Plus, he will need to meet with the courier to pay his share of the storage fees, or else they will not release his parcel. That means, he will need to travel to Argentina or send a representative with his stamp."

"This sounds like a lot," said Michael within a breath. "It's no wonder he is always calling."

"It would be far worse, and much more expensive if he were to do it on his own. International shipping and getting goods through customs can be a tricky and often confusing business. A lot of people wind up losing much more money than what they were trying to save by avoiding using brokers like myself."

"I'm sure that he understands that," said Michael. "He did hire you."

"Yes. And he has been a good client with my firm in previous years, but...I think this time, things are a little different. He seems a bit more...apprehensive about this latest transaction."

"Do you not know what's being shipped?"

Suriya shook her head. Her mouth was full of meat. She chewed and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. Once she was finished with her bite, she drank a large gulp of water.

"It doesn't matter to me what the cargo is, so long as it meets the shipping requirements and I can deliver the appropriate paperwork to the customs bureau to make sure the cargo is sufficiently processed with little to no delay. I collect my fee and move on to the next project."

"What do you think is being shipped?" Michael chewed lightly on a stewed carrot.

"Probably goods, maybe medicines? Honestly, I don't know. Usually, if it's anything illegal, customs would have flagged it by now and I would have been given an alert. The fact that it is being slated to store inside a containment facility only tells me that whatever the cargo is, has to remain stored for at least 24 hours to wait for additional paperwork to be filled out, turned in, and the storage fee collected. Once that occurs, they will release the cargo to whoever is sent to pick it up. He is upset because he has someone contracted to take the cargo, but Customs will not release it until all the paperwork is complete and fees are paid. He knows this and yet he still keeps calling me yelling about it."

Michael stifled the chuckle he felt building within. It was not her predicament that he found amusing, but how she relayed it back to him. He could see her frustration and imagine the man on the other end of the phone ripping out his hair each time he was sent a bill for his shipping costs. He glanced at his watch again and noted it was a half-hour past the time he made the first check-in call. He folded his napkin and placed it over his plate, indicating he was finished with his meal. Almost immediately, the waiter appeared at the table to take his plate. Michael thanked him and requested the bill.

"Perhaps we should pick something up on the way back to the hotel. You need to relax," said Michael calmly.

Suriya did not answer but nodded in agreement. She finished her plate and sat back in her seat, full and very satisfied with her meal. The waiter returned with the bill and took Suriya's nearly empty plate. After paying, Michael slid from his seat and offered a hand to escort Suriya from hers. They stopped at the Carrefour Market to pick up a bottle of wine and a few fresh fruits before heading back to their room. Once inside, Michael went over to the television and thought about turning it on. Suriya busied herself with putting the fruit in the small refrigerator and putting the wine on ice in the ice bucket. Michael hesitated a moment, considering what would happen if he didn't turn the television on. He knew it was a direct order and that he was expected to follow it, but he was not entirely keen on the idea of being watched. He was fine with being shadowed. He, at the very least, knew the eyes that were watching him and even felt a little comfort knowing that much of the time, the eyes were the same ones from other missions. With cameras, like the radios, he could never be sure who was watching or listening in and when. With his last experience with the comm unit and Simone listening, he felt somewhat embarrassed for having one of his more intimate moments shared. Even though her presence gave him an odd mix of both tragedy and forbidden arousal, he did not want a repeat of those feelings. He wanted to be certain of his intent, not questioning whether or not his performance was being judged against his character by someone he, otherwise, should not have cared anything for...but did. In the short while that he spent with Simone, he found himself caring a great deal over what she thought of him and how she perceived him. He did not want her to think of him as just some other playboy that Section used for their means. He did not want to think of himself in this way either, even though he was told more than once by nearly everyone that trained him that it was exactly what he was. He was a beautiful lure, an attractive bait to trick targets into believing something that wasn't true.

An illusion…

He saw himself in the black mirror of the television screen, staring back with saddened eyes. Behind him, Suriya worked with the ice cubes, trying to place them strategically around the bottle so that it chilled the contents evenly. She was still very beautiful to him, even in her rancorous state. Her dark hair fell about her slim shoulders, grazing her tanned arms. Her hips swiveled in her long, tropical colored skirt as she moved about the bucket attempting to adjust the ice once more. She believed him to be her companion and her equally obsessive lover. He had so far embedded himself within her life that he had made it so that she would not dare go even a day without him for fear of losing him to someone else. Her heart was fragile and he knew it, taking full advantage of the insecurities he knew she worked hard to hide behind a tough and independent facade. He had pursued her and captured her quickly by being exactly the person that he knew he wasn't. He was her doll. He allowed her to dress him in fashions he would never wear on his own accord, smell like scents he often found repulsive and much too harsh for his sensibility, and be interested in subjects he did not care much for. Aside from the guided speeches he often had to deliver as dictated from Section's playbook of deception, he had very little else to speak to her over. He was not interested in her life, nor of what she actually thought of him. There was nothing about Suriya that intrigued him, and yet, he had to pretend that there was. Aside from her outer beauty, she was exactly as she presented.

Spoiled…

"I'm going to take a shower," Suriya announced after giving up entirely on the bucket of ice and opting to just let the bottle sit within the bucket.

Michael nodded.

He reasoned, if he cut on the television, the cameras would begin to record all relevant areas. They would most certainly not put them in the bathroom to watch him or Suriya perform their daily ablutions. Certainly, Section would not be so intrusive to leave even their excretions unsurveyed.

You must forget about any notion of personal consideration. You're not you anymore, Michael…

Michael cut on the television.

The channel flickered a moment before coming into focus on a news station. A man with thick black hair and mustache spoke in Arabic as he reported the headlines. Michael caught a little bit of the subject matter but was not very interested in knowing any of what was being said. He went to the bucket that Suriya was fussing so long with and removed the bottle. He then cleared some of the ice back and buried the bottle in place, allowing the ice to fall where it may around it. For the life of him, he could not understand why this action caused Suriya so much distress when the solution was simple. However, it was not something that he held against her. She, after all, had been described in her profile as being high strung and prone towards overactivity. She would make just as big of a fuss over trying to remove gum from its wrapper as she would attempting to disarm a bomb. She gave it the same energy. Behind him, the television went to static for a few seconds before blinking back into focus.

The cameras were on.

Michael looked at his watch and sighed. He had nearly an hour left before his next check-in. Suriya called for him to join her in the shower.

He paused.

Never before had he been so painfully aware of being watched. It was enough to know that he could be heard over his comm unit, but at least then he was assured it was only a select few that could hear him. Richards, at the very least, had the decency to silence his side of the unit until he was finished with whatever he happened to be doing. Madeline was silent as well, quietly witnessing, but respecting his need for a semblance of privacy. He knew Simone would not dare jump on the line knowing where he was and what he was contracted to do while there. If he were on camera, he knew those monitors were in Madeline's office, Operations' perch, Surveillance, and Richards' station. Anyone of them could be clicked on for viewing at any time. Anyone standing in the vicinity of either of the monitors could view exactly his every movement and witness his every activity.

"Michael? Are you coming?" called Suriya from the shower.

"Ye...Yes." Michael pushed out his answer.

Slowly, he started towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He pulled off his top, then eased out of his pants. He stood a moment in his underwear, feeling as stripped and naked as the day he was born. He was unsure where the cameras were, but he knew they were on him, watching him. He bent and pulled off his underwear before walking into the bathroom. He opened the shower door and stepped inside to join Suriya. As he soaped her back and washed her hair, he knew they would soon move to the bed to finish their liaison. He hoped that when they did, he would at least put on a good show for whoever happened to be watching.

---

The traffic to the office building they were to meet with Bashir put to mind the Atari video game Frogger. Even though he had only played the game once in his life, it had left an indelible impression on his young memory as being one of the few entertainments he got to enjoy before his parents died and he had to move away with his baby sister. The foster family that took them in was nice enough, but they did not believe in children entertaining themselves with electronic games and toys. They preferred children to make use of their own imaginations and expand their knowledge through books instead of television, and learn classical music instead of listening to the squawking of modern-day musicians. He was given piano and cello lessons while his sister was taught the violin and piccolo. In school, he played soccer and had joined a neighborhood team of rugby players before his foster mother pulled him by his ear off the field after he came home with a black eye and missing a tooth. Thankfully, it was a baby tooth, but it still did not quiet his mother's rants about involving himself in what she deemed barbarous play. Soccer was not much different, but she was less agitated about the games because of its controlled environment and safety pads. As their cabbie dodge yet another car wreck, Michael wondered what his foster mother would think of him having become a part of a clandestine counterterrorism agency and sent on missions of both seduction and murder. She would likely plead for him to find some way to get away from the agency, find his sister, and steal away somewhere they could never be found to be safe. She would likely scream in horror at the many times he was made to launch himself out of planes, or dodge bullets aimed for his head, or jump out of the way of landmines set to explode the second they were touched. Now he was in Egypt pretending to be in love with a woman twice his age, and heading to a meeting to identify a man he was sure Section was marking to kill. Certainly, none of these deeds were as awful as what had gotten him into Section in the first place. There was no atoning for the crimes he committed to be imprisoned and sentenced to death. He deserved to die three times over the lives he erased because of a miscalculated timer and a poorly proposed ignition site. Either one of his mothers would have looked at him with disappointment and scorn. Their darling baby boy allowed rhetoric and propaganda to misshape his thoughts and twist his reasoning to believe such radical actions were necessary to bring forth change in voted policies. He had allowed Rene' to poison his mind and cause him to think that the only way that any of them could ever bring about real, visible change, was to attack the institutions directly.

"We need to get their attention," Rene had said, his eyes wide and fierce in the candlelight. "We need to let the bureaucrats know that we will not take their tyranny any longer! They cannot deny us! If they take from us our right to education, our wages, and our abilities to better ourselves, then they might as well put us all in chains! AS SLAVES! Well, tomorrow we revolt! We say NO MORE to their red tape and injustices! In the immortal words of Robespierre. LIBERTE', EGALITE', FRATERNITE!"

Rene always did have a way with words, and he knew exactly which ones would stir him. He had targeted him specifically on the campus of the university, speaking to him in low tones and in riddles that he encouraged Michael to solve to discover his meaning. Rene knew him far better than he thought he knew himself and used what he knew to gain his undivided attention and eventually his devout loyalty.

"You are my most trusted lieutenant, Michele," said Rene. "With you, I entrust my very life. No one else will I ever give this honor to."

And it had been an honor to Michael.

He loved Rene like his brother and shared with him everything that he had. Rene lived in the streets and wherever else he could find shelter. The members of their vagabond fraternity often squatted at each other's homes, piling into rooms no larger than to fit two beds and not much more. Michael often gave his own bed to Rene to sleep in his dorm room so that he would be fresh and alert the next day to continue his crusade towards enlightening students about the injustice of their rising tuition and lowering wages. He was enthralled by his eloquent monologues and used his own bit of attractive influence to gather audiences to come and listen. He supposed this was the reason why Section took notice of him. The ease in which he guided others towards Rene's camp meetings likely showed his prowess towards his own skill of manipulation. His very face was his own lure, and one that even Madeline deemed more than convincing to become what it was that they endeavored he became for them. It was only a matter of time before they came for him, whether he ended up in prison or not. It just so happened that on that fatal day in 1987, he placed a bomb near the administration building and set it to go off at seven o'clock. However, he did not account for the timer being on military time instead of regular time. Before he realized what had been the error, the bomb exploded with many of the administration staff trapped in the blazing inferno. Several students were killed as well bringing his body total to 32 men and women dead and another 27 students critically injured due to the power of the blast. Rene tried to hide him, but too many students had seen him out wandering about the area where the bomb was detonated from. Someone identified Michael as having placed the bomb. During a protest, he was arrested and charged with acts of terrorism and mass murder. All of the fervor and zeal he had felt leading up to planting the black bag left him the second he learned what had happened at the administration building. He knew if he went to the protest, someone would identify him and he would be arrested. He supposed he went with the purpose of being arrested. Before leaving, he made Rene promise that he would not go to the protest, but stay behind and hide at a friend's apartment.

"Take care of my sister when I'm gone," Michael told Rene just before leaving for the march. "If she asks what has happened to me…"

Rene put a hand on Michael's shoulder, then pulled him into a crushing hug.

"I will tell her that you went as a man and that you love her very much," said Rene.

Michael held him back, not wanting to let go, but knowing that if he did not, he would doom them both, and there would be no one to look after his young sister. He pulled away, not able to speak the words his heart cried. He turned from his friend and brother, never to see him again...Or so he assumed.

The car finally stopped in front of a large office building rising high into the skies with the other buildings around it. The street was shadowed from the sun leaving only the oppressive heat that seemed to come at them in all directions. The congested streets emitted waves of heat and steam forcing the people to move with purposeful strides racing to air-conditioned destinations or someplace with cool water and fans. Suriya stepped quickly inside the building with Michael following. The air inside the building was only a little less stagnant than the air outside. The heat did not head the rule that it was to stay outside. It followed directly into the lobby. Suriya turned to Michael.

"Wait here. I will go and find my client."

"I thought I was coming with you," said Michael.

"Sweetheart…"

"Please," said Michael, drawing closer. "It would be amazing for me to meet someone like him if even just to shake his hand. I've been researching his foundation and I find what he does quite interesting...and...inspiring."

"You researched him?"

"Yes. I wanted to know who this man was and what he did. His foundation, the Bashir Foundation, has helped millions of people that have been displaced from their homes and turned away from hospitals when they are in need of medical care. Their streets have turned to warzones, and their families scattered. Bashir's Foundation helps these people rebuild their lives and get basic necessities that they are being denied."

Suriya stood back from Michael, taking him in. The amazement in her expression told Michael that she was thinking again of him and wondering what else he would show her. She smiled.

"Another secret skill," she said, wagging a finger at him. "I'm sure Armand would not mind meeting you...If only just to shake his hand."

Suriya turned and headed for the bank of elevators. Michael let out a sigh, grateful that his short soliloquy worked. He had already put the enzyme on his hand before leaving the hotel and the hour was nearly up. He hoped that he would be able to get to the target in time before the burning began. He was unsure as to what the severity of the burn would be, but from what Richards' related to him, he did not want to delay too long to find out. He followed quickly after Suriya, pushing in close to her as she entered the elevator. She gave him a curious look, questioning why he was so close to her when there was plenty of room on the elevator. Michael whispered an apology and took a step back from her.

Armand Bashir's office was located on the topmost floor of the building. The lavishly decorated area where their elevator deposited them put in mind what a sheik's palace might look like. Marble flooring and gold overlay fixtures decorated the entirety of the hall with only a few sparse furnishings to offer a suggestion of comfort. The lobby of the floor stretched nearly the full length of the building with only a set of doors dividing the floor situated towards the west side of the building. A large fountain gurgled in the very center of the floor. Michael looked in the water and saw glints of gold and silver sparkling within the shower along with a few exotic fish. Suriya stood a moment, looking down at her watch, then at the door. She held her attache' case at her thighs, clutching it nervously. Michael thought to give her some type of comfort but remembered he had the enzyme on his hands. Instead, he balled his hands into fists and shoved them into the pockets of his dark grey trousers. He had been careful of what to wear on this day, making sure he wore something with large enough pockets to conceal not only his hands but the off chance he would need a tranquilizing serum to inject in either his target or Suriya.

"You never know when things are going to start going sour on ya," said Walter as he explained how to use the small syrette device. "It doesn't take much so you be careful with that. It's a one-time use only. You mess around and stick yourself, you'll be down faster than a shot mule. Just stick in somewhere fleshy and squeeze the bobble on the back. Zippity-doo, they're off to school."

Walter smiled wide, proud of his little joke. Michael gave only a pensive grin in return. Walter, seeing that he was not going to get much more from Michael than the slight grin, went on with the other equipment he would be using while on his trip.

At his ankle, he concealed a small pistol. At his waist, hidden in the square of his belt buckle were two razor blades he could use if he managed to find himself in close combat, or trapped in a spot and needed to cut his way out. Walter gave him the blades with a shrug.

"Sometimes the best tools are practical ones," he said in explanation.

The rest of his equipment was more for surveillance than defense. He was told to check-in a final time before leaving for the meeting at which he was given a review of his objective when to start the sequence time on the enzyme, and what to do once Bashir's identity was confirmed. The enzyme was in a men's lotion bottle setup inside the bathroom along with other hotel gift basket items. Although the enzyme was scented with some sort of heavy cologne, he could still detect the acrid odor of its true contents behind the fragrance. He hesitated to put it on his hands, knowing that it would possibly call irreparable scarring if it stayed on his skin too long. Richards reminded him again to be certain to wash his hands as soon as he identified his mark.

"You don't want that stuff to start to burn on you," said Richards, crunching loudly into the comm unit.

Michael secretly wished he could put the enzyme on Richards' lips so that he would stop eating loud snacks during missions. He rubbed the lotion on just his palms and waited a moment to see if he would feel anything different than just lotion. To his relief, there was no feeling from it, at least not then. He checked the timer on his watch again and hurried Suriya out of the door so that they would not be late to her meeting.

The doors to the back room opened and allowed out two gentlemen. One was short and plump, appearing more European than Arabic, with brown blonde hair, wide expressive brown eyes, and a much too large smile. He wore a pinstriped navy blue and pink suit complete with pink bowtie and black wing-tipped shoes. Beside him stood a tall man of swarthy complexion with short black hair, a neatly cut beard, and intense dark eyes. He was dressed in a traditional tan-colored kaftan and brown leather sandals. He walked nearly exactly two paces behind his companion, keeping his eyes steady with both Suriya and Michael. The short man approached Suriya and greeted her with kisses on both her cheeks.

"How good it is to finally meet you!" He said in a husky voice. "Please, come and sit with me in a chair. Let us, how you say, chit chat a little, yes?"

"Certainly," said Suriya, returning his smile and following him towards a pair of chairs.

Michael considered the man in the suit, but it was the man standing silently watching that made him pause. He was not smiling at all or making any moves to draw attention to him. He simply stood in the space he preferred and watched. From the look of him, Michael could detect straight away that he was a man of considerable power and influence. Even though the man was just standing, he could tell he was doing much more than that. His posture was not unlike Operations' stance, and he held the same kind of presence. Michael remained where he stood, understanding now the room and everyone positioned in it.

"I have brought the documents necessary for your signature," said Suriya. "All that I need from you, in addition to the signed documents, is a check for the storage fee so that customs can release your goods to your courier."

"Well!," said the businessman. "Seems all so simple. And here I was fussing over nothing."

The businessman chuckled and glanced up at the dark-haired man standing a few feet from him. He continued to look severe as he watched.

"I understand your concerns over the shipping process," said Suriya, taking out the documents from her case. "I can assure you that next time will not be so nerve-wracking. It's always the first time that is the hardest."

"In everything," the businessman added with a smile.

Michael caught his eyes grazing over Suriya as she bent to begin signing the first set of documents. She had worn a simple cream-colored blouse and dark grey skirt to somewhat match what Michael was wearing. If anyone had not known, they would have taken them as real business partners in that they dressed nearly alike. Michael continued to stand with his hands in his pockets, deciding finally how he would approach his target. He could already tell who it was, and it certainly was not the pudgy looking man sitting next to Suriya signing documents.

"Tell me," said the businessman as she signed. "Who is your young, stunning friend over there? He can't be your son, you're much too young to have a boy that old."

"He…" began Suriya, considering what to say about Michael. "He is a student at the university in France. He is studying business."

The businessman smiled broadly. "Business are you, now? Well, it is a good profession to go into. Certainly has made me millions. Tell me, what made you interested?"

"I've always been," said Michael. "My family has always been a little on the unlucky side of financial stability. I wanted to be the first in my lineage to not continue the trend. I chose business to make money."

The businessman grinned. He signed a few more documents passed to him, some of which he got mixed up during the shuffle. He ended up taking the whole of the documents he guessed he had already signed and handed them to Suriya to sort out.

"What sort of business are you looking to get involved in, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'd like to start a foundation to aid other kids like me who grew up almost poverty-stricken with little hope of ever finding their way out of their circumstance. I was lucky to have a benefactor to assist with sending me to college. My family has done all that they can to keep me there. I've raised money for each of my semesters, paid for my books, materials, lodging...whatever I needed. I figured if I could do that for myself, then I could do it for others."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the tall swarthy man raise an interested eyebrow. Micheal continued.

"Tuition rates have begun to rise for students making it nearly impossible for them to get in, and those that are in, struggle to stay. Some vital programs at the university are being cut due to lack of funding, yet the school seems to have more than enough money to give grants and special privileges to students that don't need the extra assistance. I want to start a foundation to help students who are finding it more difficult to keep up with both their studies and their financial obligations. Education should not come at a price so astronomically unattainable that only the well-to-do and the privileged reap the benefits."

Michael could feel Rene's voice piping out of him as he spoke. He was a little amazed at how much like Rene' he sounded at that moment. He could almost hear his old friend speaking even more words into his ear, urging him to rage against the establishment once more.

"How will you begin this foundation?" asked the businessman.

"By learning from the best," said Michael, then turned to the man standing near him. "By learning from you."

The swarthy colored man looked at Michael with a hint of surprise noticing he was staring directly at him. He placed his hands behind his back and turned his body only slightly towards Michael.

"What makes you think you could learn anything from me?" he asked, his tone quiet, yet somewhat menacing.

"You're Armand Bashir, aren't you?" said Michael.

"How would you know that?" he asked.

"Because," began Michael. "Any man that has done all that your foundation has done for the people of Pakistan, would not disrespect his own culture by arriving at a very important meeting dressed as a flashy clown. Nor would he be so eager to sign documents he doesn't fully understand. The Bashir that I've come to know will want to take a look at each document, would want to ask further questions about his cargo, and would want to be certain that we are who we say that we are."

The man stood silent and lifted his chin. Suriya looked confused as she realized what Michael had just said and the fact that all the documents she had just signed were for the wrong person. She looked at the businessman, wondering why it was that he pretended to be Bashir.

"You are right," said the other man. "He is not Armand. I am Armand. How very perceptive of you."

Michael said nothing, continuing to look nearly blank.

"What gave me away?" asked Bashir.

"The Armand Bashir I studied and learned would not make a big fuss over himself," said Michael. "This isn't even your office. Your office is down below...on the streets...with the people."

"Again, you are correct," said Bashir, turning fully towards Michael. "What is your name?"

"Michael."

"Well, Michael. It is an honor to meet a bright and inspired young revolutionary. I wish that Suriya had told me that she was going to be bringing along such an astute friend." Bashir drew closer to Michael but did not extend his hand just then. Instead, he kept them behind himself.

Michael flexed his fingers in his pocket. He was unsure exactly how much time had passed from when he applied the enzyme until then. He hoped he was still within his allotted window and that the tingling he felt in his fingertips was just his nerves and not the beginning of corrosion occurring.

"He is here to learn the basics of my business and what I do," said Suriya. "He is quite interested."

"Is he?" Bashir looked Michael over. "I don't think it is your business he is interested in at all. There is something else he is here for."

Michael stood a little more erect, hoping that the sweat that was beginning to trail down his back was not also making lines on his face. He kept his expression blank and his eyes deadlocked on the Arab. Suriya gathered the defunct documents and stacked them in a pile. She stood to her feet, leaving the businessman seated looking somewhat sheepish in his failed attempt to deceive.

"You do realize that I cannot turn in those documents without your true signature on them. We will have to send for immediate copies." The tone in which Suriya spoke was dangerously close to being condescending.

Bashir turned to her and smiled pleasantly.

"Oh, my dear, you worry too much over little things."

The look that crossed Suriya's face nearly made Michael laugh. Her eyes flamed with fury even though she kept her stretched smile in place. He could almost see the objection rising within her, but she remained silent in favor of diplomacy.

"The signature on those documents is almost exact to mine. I have trained Baldwin well enough to copy my hand to where I can scarcely tell if I've signed something or if he did. It will be fine. Besides, who will know, other than the four of us, that the signature was not truly me. I've authorized it. It is good." Bashir returned to Michael. "Please, sit down with me. Tell me more of what you know of me...and my affairs."

He began to walk with the expectation of Michael to follow him. He led him over to a bench next to the large expanse of windows acting as the west wall of the building. Two potted ficus trees border the bench and offered a kind of garden-like feel to the otherwise open office area. Suriya returned to her papers and began sorting through them once more to put them back in order. The businessman beside her took the remainder of the pages waiting for signatures and dutifully began signing.

"Please. Have a seat, young man." Bashir sat down on the bench and clasped his hands in his lap.

Michael sat down beside Bashir and took the same posture. Although the glass looked as though it were a simple singular pane, Michael noticed it was actually made of two types of glass, one being a shield against the sun's rays keeping the inside of the office area cool. The glass was thick as well, making it very sturdy and nearly impossible to break through.

"How long have you known Miss Meijers?" asked Bashir, nodding towards Suriya.

"A few weeks now," Michael answered honestly. "We met at a study session at my university. We are both taking a foreign language course, which we were not doing very well in, hence the tutoring."

"A foreign language course?"

"We were both learning Tagalog. I wanted to learn it for study purposes. She said she was learning it because she was planning to move to a region that spoke it."

Bashir nodded, understanding. "You are a scholar as I surmised. What do you plan to do with...Tagalog?"

Michael stopped himself from shrugging. He felt the gesture too dismissive and disrespectful to a man like Bashir. He kept his eyes steady with him, realizing Bashir's interest in him was growing the more he watched and engaged with him. He licked his lips and repositioned his posture.

"I just wanted to know it," said Michael.

"Like you wanted to know about my foundation?"

"It intrigued me."

Bashir smiled slowly. For a long moment, he simply stared at him, taking him in. Michael maintained his pleasantness and offered a slight and subtle smile back. It was a small lift of the corners of his mouth as he relaxed his eyes a little. The sun shined in through the glass giving no heat but caused the colors in Michael's eyes to shift from an opaque crystal blue to silvery grey.

"I told Suriya to come alone to our meeting," Bashir began. "And yet, she decided to bring you. Why?"

"I wanted to meet you," said Michael evenly.

"Why? To what reason would you dare intrude on a business transaction that has nothing to do with you or what you are presently studying? She is conducting business. Obviously, the two of you are not in a teacher-student arrangement."

Michael nodded in acknowledgment. "No. We are not."

"So what purpose do you have for being here...besides wanting to meet me...as you claim?"

There was a dark look that began to cloud Bashir's deep brown eyes. Michael knew that he was being studied as intensely as a scientist would a lab rat. He was beginning to feel stripped of himself again in much the same fashion as he had in the hotel room with Section's cameras focused on him. He swallowed.

"I'm her lover," Michael answered bluntly.

"Ah!" Bashir's smile widened. "Her lover! And here I was thinking you were merely here to...tickle my own fancy with your broad strokes of adoration and...worship." Bashir leaned in. "Tell me...is she any better in bed than she is with her job?"

Michael's eyes flashed wide for a moment before focusing back to Bashir. He faltered for words then looked back towards Suriya, still trying to juggle the paperwork with Baldwin, the businessman.

"She is...adequate in both her...abilities." Michael was unsure of how to word his assessment of Suriya. He was not expecting such a question to be asked.

"Adequate." Bashir righted himself once more and stroked his chin. "Any man that considers his partner as simply good enough has eyes towards something better."

"I don't wish for anyone else," Michael defended rather feebly. He was saying the words, but he knew his tone nor his demeanor supported it.

"We all wish for something better," said Bashir, looking at Suriya. "Even when we have what we think we desire. There's always something else that we want more." He turned to Michael. "What is it that you want, Michael? What is your desire?"

Michael took in a breath, thinking. He wanted to tell Bashir that he desired only to shake his hand so that he could be done with the whole thing. He wanted to stand up from where he sat and leave Alexandria. He wanted to return to Section and find Simone so that he could tell her that he wasn't just a playboy that Section used, that there was more to him than words and looks if she would only take a moment to see him. He wanted to be real, not an illusion to someone. He wanted to be free of Section and return back to his sister to let her know that he was okay.

He wanted to be alive again…

"I want...I want…"

Michael felt his words stuck in his throat and unable to come out. The tingling in his fingers spread down to his palm. He felt for certain this was the enzyme's reaction to having stayed too long on his skin. Before long, his skin would begin to burn.

"I want...to shake the hand of the most influential founder of an organization that not only has helped so many of the Pakistanian people but has instilled in them a renewed pride in their heritage and their beliefs. I've read everything there is about you, Armand Bashir. I consider it my greatest achievement to finally meet the man I so revere face to face."

Michael extended his hand.

Bashir looked at Michael a moment, taking him in fully. He studied the offered hand before slowly taking it into his own. Michael closed his fingers around Bashir.

"It's a pleasure to meet you…"

Bashir tightened his grip around Michael's hand.

"Likewise."

Michael tried to pull his hand back but found Bashir's grip firm. His dark eyes leveled with Michael and held him in place. Michael tried once more to pull his hand back, but Bashir held fast and grinned.

"In my country, when a man is quick to give too much adulation, he is often preparing to stab you in the back…" Bashir pulled Michael towards him roughly. "Where is your knife...Brutus?"

Michael could not help how quickly his heart rate sped up at that moment. He could see in Bashir's eyes that he was not fooled at any moment by his ruse and was on to him for reasons he could only consider as being malicious. Bashir held Michael's hand grasping it so firmly that Michael winced at the pressure.

"Baldwin!" Bashir called to his assistant. "Escort Miss Meijers to a separate room. I have more to discuss with her...student."

Baldwin, noticing what was going on where Bashir and Michael sat, stood to his feet and roughly grabbed Suriya up by her arm. She made an exclamation of objection, dropping her gathered papers to the floor.

"What is going on? What are you doing?" she shouted in full fury.

"That is what I aim to find out," said Bashir. He shot a look at Suriya. "I'm certain you had nothing to do with bringing this charlatan to my face, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Suriya was thoroughly confused. She wrestled uselessly with Baldwin, trying to tear herself from his determined grip.

Bashir stood to his feet, pulling Michael up with him. He still held on to him, using his hand as cuffs around Michael's wrist.

"What is the real reason why you are here?" Bashir glared at Michael.

"I already told you," said Michael.

He did not truly hide his anxiousness, but he knew better than to allow himself to become overwhelmed by it as well. He remained steady, looking at Bashir directly.

"You told me a lie," said Bashir. "There is very little that is known about my foundation, except that which she might have told you, and even then, there is not much more that she knows than what is publicized. How did you know my name?"

"She told me."

"What do you know about my foundation?"

"Just that you help the Pakistan people. Your foundation focuses on social services and health care. I was attracted to that."

Bashir let Michael go but did not move away from him.

"Did you know Miss Meijers was working with me?" asked Bashir.

"Yes," said Michael. "I used her...to get to you."

Suriya stopped fighting Baldwin for a moment as Michael's words resonated with her. Her jaw dropped open in surprise.

"What?" said Suriya.

Michael did not look at Suriya's face but knew she was horrified by what he said. He kept his gaze with Bashir, holding him intently.

"And why would you want to get to me?" asked Bashir.

In Michael's ear, he could hear crackling as his comm unit came online. Then he heard Team Leader Hardin begin coordinating the assault. Michael's eyes shifted towards the door.

"Because I was told to…" said Michael.

The door to the office blew open and several men in black combat outfits flooded in, rifles up and at eye level. Several gunshots could be heard from the hall as more operatives made their way up the stairwell. Michael ducked down and ran towards the fountain in the center of the room. He saw Baldwin grab Suriya by her neck and pull her to him. He pulled out a gun hidden in a holster under his suit jacket and began firing at the operatives. Bashir turned and ran for the opposite door on the other end of the office. Michael shoved his hands into the water of the fountain and quickly began rinsing off the enzyme.

"Michael! Help!" Suriya screamed.

Baldwin continued to fire as the few operatives that rushed into the room took cover behind the sparse furnishings. He pulled Suriya with him as he headed for another side door that Michael had not noticed when he first entered the room. He realized the door likely led to a stairwell. The operatives stalled their firing as not to hit the female hostage being dragged along with the businessman. Michael looked behind him and saw Bashir heading for the back office area.

"That's Bashir!" Michael yelled at one of the operatives close by him.

The operative, his face nearly completely covered with a mask save only his eyes, nodded at Michael and headed for Bashir. Three men in suits rushed into the office from the door Baldwin was heading towards. They aimed their guns at the operatives and began wildly firing. Michael reached for the pistol in his ankle holster and aimed it at the first man in a suit. He fired and struck him in his leg. The man went down. Baldwin muscled his way past the men and disappeared with Suriya through the door. The men in suits continued to fire, spraying with their automatic rifles at the four operatives pinned down in the room. Michael took cover behind the edge of the fountain and fired again, aiming for a kill shot for the man he shot in the leg. The bullet arrowed directly into the top of the man's head, laying him out flat.

Michael looked back at the door Bashir went through, then at the door Suriya was taken.

He took in a deep breath...

---

Bashir grabbed a machine gun and a handgun and then the keys to his Phantom parked in his private parking area inside the garage of the building. Outside the door to his office, he could hear gunshots. He hoped that his men were taking care of the sudden raid. He did not know who it was that felt brave enough to try and take him down in his own office building. At the moment, he didn't really care who they were. He only knew he had to leave and leave quickly to evade capture. He could tell by the look of the men that came in through the door that they were not men from another insurgent group or a competing faction. These men had government agency written all over them and they were coming for him.

Bashir looked up just in time to see a man in all black come in through the door. Before he could get a shot off, Bashir raised his own submachine gun and sprayed the operative. The man dropped to the floor dead in an instant. Bashir turned out from his desk and headed for the back stairwell from his office. He drummed down the steps, slinging the strap of his firearm over his shoulder. He tucked his 9 millimeter in his waist holster. Upstairs, he could still hear gunfire, although this time, it sounded as though it was slowing to individual more purposeful shots. He continued down the steps.

The door to his office-level opened and footsteps were heard quickly giving chase. Bashir looked up and saw someone making their way fast down the steps. Their tan shirt flew out behind them as they descended. Bashir raised his handgun and fired off two shots in the person's general direction. They ducked out the way as the bullets ricocheted off the steel railings. Bashir continued down further. The man chasing him quickened his pace, taking several steps at a time. Bashir stopped and fired again, sending two more bullets into the wall just behind the man.

"Fuck you asshole!" Bashir yelled.

An aimed shot narrowly missed him as it lodged into the wall beside him. Startled, Bashir moved further down, noting he was now on the fifth floor of his building. As he descended, he tucked back in his handgun and pulled his machinegun to bear. After reaching the next landing, he raised the gun and sent a barrage of bullets up towards the chasing man. Somehow, the man managed to evade all the bullets as they ate away at the cinder block walls surrounding him. Bashir continued down. He made it to the third floor and decided to exit there. He shoved his way through the door and ran through the office hall passing banking officials and administration staff as they went about their business. Behind him, the door opened again, this time revealing who it was chasing after him.

"Michael…" Bashir hissed, recognizing the youthful-looking dark-haired student.

Michael, having confiscated the firearm from the fallen operative, aimed it at him as if to prepare to shoot.

"Put the gun down, Bashir!"

"Who the fuck are you?" Bashir raised his gun and began shooting at Michael.

Michael leaped out of the way, ducking into an office as bullets tore through the carpet and shattered three panes of the glass window. Frightened screams filled the hall as innocent bystanders began to run and duck out of the way of the gunshots. Bashir snarled as he tried to see Michael. He backed quickly down the hall, keeping his gun trained at the last place he saw the young operative. He turned a moment to see where he was in the hall. When he returned his attention back down the hall, he saw Michael, pistol trained at him evenly. He moved out of the way just as another shot whizzed close by his head. Michael went down on his knee and fired another, this time catching Bashir in the thigh.

Bashir stumbled but did not fall. He fired back in Michael's general direction, eating up the tile floor with wild, untargeted shots. Michael pressed himself flat against the wall. Bashir hopped into the nearest office. A female accountant screamed seeing Bashir suddenly inside her office. Bashir grabbed her and threw an arm about her throat. He pressed his gun into her back.

"Move and I will kill you," he hissed in Arabic in her ear.

The woman began to cry as she stiffened in response. Outside the office, Michael stalked forward, his pistol at the ready as he carefully checked each office looking for Bashir. When he finally arrived at the office Bashir was in, he peeked inside quickly, then, noticing he had a hostage, pulled back to give himself a little more room to aim.

"Let her go, Bashir. She has nothing to do with this. This is about what you have done, not her. Let her go."

"Bullshit! Why are you here? What do you want?" Bashir shouted.

"We want you," Michael answered.

"For what? I haven't done anything!"

"What about the eighty-five people your bombs killed in Buenos Aires? The bombs you are shipping now to Argentina."

"I'm not shipping bombs to Argentina," said Bashir with a short laugh.

"How about you let her go and we can discuss that."

"I'm not telling you shit! Who sent you?"

"You can find out. Let her go."

"Come any closer and I'll blow out her guts!"

"Last time. Let her go."

In his comm unit, Michael heard Team Leader Hardin announce the capture of Baldwin the businessman.

"Raven, do you have Bashir?" asked Hardin over the radio.

"Affirmed. I have him in an office. Third Floor."

"Is he secured?"

"Negative. He has a hostage," Michael reported. He kept his eyes on Bashir watching him closely.

There was a long pause before he heard a response.

"Nonessential. Bring Bashir in."

Michael felt the pit of his stomach bottom out. He swallowed hard.

"It's an innocent woman," he said, feeling his mouth go dry.

Another long pause.

"Bring in Bashir."

Michael breathed out a huff of air. He felt himself grow cold inside as if someone turned off all the heat in his body. His expression, once intense and full of determination, flattened into an eerie calmness. The woman in Bashir's arms stared back at him with eyes full of fear and distress. Behind her, Bashir sneered. He positioned himself even more behind the woman, using her body as a shield to cover as much of himself as he could. He began to ease the woman out of the office, making sure that he kept her in between himself and Michael's gun.

"That's the problem with you government pussies," said Bashir as he began backing up towards the bank of elevators at the end of the hall. "You are always so concerned about innocent people that it stops you from doing what needs to be accomplished. When will you learn that none of us are innocent in this world. We are born to sin and sin is within us. There is none perfect but Allah...and only he shall judge me."

Michael turned slowly towards Bashir.

"You American roaches! Do you think you can stop us? Do you think you and your Israeli parasites will win? You're wrong! It is us that shall win. It is our land we fight for! Our nation! To the Jihad!"

Bashir moved his gun and fired at Michael.

Michael ducked down and rolled out of the way of the first shot. He returned fire, then moved into a cartwheel firing another shot landing on his feet with his pistol aimed squarely where Bashir was standing. Both the woman and Bashir lay on the floor. Around him, women and men screamed as they raced towards the stairwell. Michael, still with his gun raised, approached Bashir. Beside him, the woman lay sprawled, unconscious but alive. The bullet passed through her right shoulder and into Bashir's chest. Bashir gasped as blood pumped out of his wound. Michael kicked his gun out of his reach and stood over him.

"Who...are…you?" asked Bashir between breaths.

"I'm no one," Michael answered.

---

Michael stood before Operations and Madeline with his hands behind his back. He waited as Operations reviewed his briefing notes on a PDA panel before setting the panel down and turning his attention to Michael.

"Good work," said Operations.

His steel-colored eyes leveled with Michael as a smile eased across his lips.

"Despite some...minor setbacks, you've managed to bring this mission to a succinct close. We have all the accounts for Crimson Sky provided by their broker, the shipment that held a number of weapons and items to make bombs, and we have Bashir...Perfect."

Madeline moved forward, her pleasant smile firmly in place.

"You have shown great agility, bravery, and intelligence. A recruit of your caliber is not easy to come by. We recognize your uniqueness and value to our team. You are a rare find Michael Samuelle."

"Rare," said Operations in a near growl. "Yes. I think that correctly describes you. I've not seen another operative perform in such a manner as you have. Many would not have been as successful in an assignment like this. I would think anyone else would have failed. Especially with a woman like Suriya." Operations chuckled and turned to Madeline with a knowing grin.

She returned it back but cleanly wiped it as she returned to Michael.

"Certainly you deserve to be promoted after such a feat. Would you agree?"

"Promoted?" said Michael, showing his confusion...and suspicion.

"Yes!" Operations perked up.

"I told you in the beginning that this mission was highly important to Section," said Madeline. "Your scores have been calculated with your percentage of success on this assignment. It has resulted in your rating being above average. After some review, it has been unanimously agreed that you should graduate to full operative status as a Level 3 Alpha operative."

"Level 3 Alpha?" Michael could not help repeating, but he was truly astonished.

"What's the matter, son?" asked Operations with a proud grin. "You look like all the blood just ran out of you. This is a happy occasion. Aren't you thrilled?"

Michael looked to Operations and blinked. He wanted to say words but had none to offer. Instead, he swallowed and continued to stand in front of Operations and Madeline as if he were being court martialed.

"After you leave this office, you will be installed as a Level 3 operative on the Alpha One team under Team Lead Ashwood Wyatt."

Michael only nodded.

"Also…" Madeline went on. "You will be given your own apartment, a car, and a permanent workstation at Level 6. You will no longer have to take whatever available terminal there is to do your work. You will still be required to arrive promptly at 5 a.m. for Clinicals each week, and operative testing will be at the end of each month. Your next evaluation will occur six months from now."

"Congratulations, Michael. I knew you could do it," said Operations with a broad grin.

"Thank you," Michael answered quietly. He looked to Madeline. "What happened with Suriya?"

Madeline maintained her expression.

"She made it out fine. A little scuffed up, but otherwise, unharmed."

"Where is she now?" asked Michael.

"I suppose on her way to Manila," Madeline answered.

Michael nodded.

Madeline drew in a breath.

"I understand your feelings about how your relationship ended with Suriya. It cannot be easy to know the last thought she will have of you is of your betrayal to her. Just know she will not be the only one that will be left with this memory of you. There will be others. You will have to learn how to cope with this reality and continue to perform despite knowing the outcomes."

"Is that all?" asked Michael, his mouth now so dry his voice was barely a rasp.

Madeline nodded. "Yes. You may go now."

Michael respectfully made a small bow and turned to leave. Madeline looked at Operations, giving him a questioning look. Operations returned a raised eyebrow and a smirk. The two of them went to the large window overlooking the main floor of Section and watched as Michael slowly walked back towards the hall leading to the lounge. It was clear that he was heavy in thought, considering all that had transpired and the new promotion he was just given. Madeline looked at Operations.

"Do you really think he has what it takes to be a good operative?"

"He has it," said Operations.

Approaching from Transit, Simone walked into Section. Her black hair was down about her shoulders appearing as a dark sheet along her back. Her gaze found Madeline and Operations as she made her way towards Communications. Her red lips pressed down into a narrow line as she considered the two standing watch above her.

"Do you think he could be great?" asked Madeline, watching Simone.

"Who do we have that would be better?" Operations turned to Madeline.

"He is unique...and rare. With the right guidance, I believe he will be our best yet," said Madeline.

Michael emerged from the lounge and started back across the main floor, now heading towards one of the terminals in Communications. Simone looked up from speaking with Richards and noticed Michael. The two met eyes but did not say anything to one another. Simone returned to her conversation with Richards while Michael continued to look on a moment longer before turning back to his screen.

"I suppose we will just have to wait and see, won't we," said Operations.

Madeline returned her gaze back down to Communications watching the operatives begin their work.

---

Michael walked into the apartment and looked around. It was small inside, much smaller than he expected, then again, he was not really expecting much. He only needed a place to cook, relax, clean himself, and lie down. He had been able to do that in the 75 square foot room he occupied at Section. This apartment was nearly eight times as big and yet it still felt small considering the layout and the meager furnishings provided within it. The building itself was unassuming boasting no lavish or luxury accommodation or uniqueness in character. It was simply a squat brick building among other squat brick buildings located in the Montparnasse arrondissement of the city. The building itself was surrounded by lots of culture and people lounging in cafes and in the outdoor patios of restaurants. He was certain he would not be singled out within the rabble of so many people. Yet, inside the small apartment, he could not push out the feeling of being utterly alone.

"Everything is taken care of," said Jurgen in his usual husky voice. He set down the keys to the apartment. "Your car will be brought to you in the morning."

Michael continued to look about his surroundings, touching the warm leather of the chairs, the cold chrome of the table lamps, and the glass of the side tables. He had no idea who it was that they designed the apartment for, but they certainly did not have him in mind. Everything in it was too modern, too polished to be his own. He felt he could never be truly settled in such a place. It was much too cold.

Too...Section…

Michael turned to Jurgen.

"Everything you need is here," said Jurgen, opening a wooden box.

Inside the box was an assortment of documents and credentials identifying him as Michael Samuelle. There was a passport, birth certificate, identification, driving license, and various other credit cards, all of them with reader chips to monitor his spending.

"If anyone asks, you are between jobs right now," said Jurgen. "You are taking time off to figure things out. You cannot tell anyone who you truly are, or what you really do. You understand?"

Michael nodded.

Jurgen pulled in a breath and clasped his hands in front of him. His long coat draped heavily on his shoulders making him appear dark and brooding even under the sharp fluorescent lights of the kitchen area. His brown-blonde curls looked nearly ethereal in the light. His blue eyes regarded Michael with a sadness that was not fully understood. He took a step towards Michael but did not make any further movements.

"You're a good operative, Michael. Remember that. You're one of the best. I have to say I've never worked with anyone quite like you before. I will miss our time together."

"You talk as if we will never see each other again," said Michael.

"I hope that we won't, Michael. I truly do. I hope the moment I walk out that door that I never see your face ever again."

Michael pulled in a little, feeling hurt by his mentor's words. He took a step towards him.

"Why do you say that? Where are you going?"

Jurgen grimaced slightly. "Wherever they send me."

"And I'll never see you again?" Michael took another step.

Jurgen pulled in a breath and turned to leave the apartment. He stopped at the door and turned back to Michael.

"You were my best student, Michael. I will remember that. But pray you never see my face again. On the day that you do...it will not be good...for you. Goodbye now."

"Goodbye, Jurgen…"

---

Nikita blew out a long line of air. She studied Walter as he stood at his workstation, fastening a newly augmented scope to a sniper rifle. The old man smiled at his work, obviously proud of it.

"So is that it?" asked Nikita, realizing Walter stopped talking.

"Pretty much," Walter breathed out. "The rest, I guess, is what you might call, history."

"Well, what happened after that? I mean, did Michael ever find out if Suriya was actually in Manila like Madeline said? Did he check in on her?" asked Nikita.

Walter gave an audible moan which Nikita took as a bad turn in his story.

"Suriya went to Manila, alright. Got set up there in a nice little house and from what I was told, enjoyed a very comfortable living up until her death...which came about three weeks later. It was reported as a natural cause, but it always struck me a little peculiar how someone could die naturally from being strangled. I mean, I guess if you tie a rope around your neck long enough, you're bound to result in something."

"She's dead?" Nikita did not hold back her shock.

"As a doornail. We suspect she was killed by men connected to Crimson Sky that learned of her involvement in the raid in Alexandria. Nothing has been proven for sure, but...it's a good bet that is what happened to her."

"Did Michael know about it?" Nikita asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, he knew. Found out about it a few days after it happened. The Dailies came over the lines and he read about it in the transcripts. He never said anything about it, you could tell he felt something over it. Even though he didn't like her that much, and was happy to be rid of her, I don't think he wished her to be dead."

"And?" asked Nikita impatiently.

"And...That's it," said Walter.

"That's how they met? Through a Valentine mission?"

"Michael's first. You won't get him to talk too much more about it. If he mentions it at all."

Nikita looked both shocked and disappointed that the story was over. She did not want it to be over. There was still so much she wanted to know, and yet Walter had stopped talking, ending his tale somewhat abruptly. Nikita righted herself and circled over to where Walter stood. She put her arms about his shoulders and nuzzled his neck.

"Please, Walter. Tell me more," she cooed into his ear.

Blushing, Walter tried his best to pull away from Nikita, but found her arms holding fast to him.

"Ah now, Sugar, you know the rules here. No touching," Walter joked as he carefully pulled Nikita's arms from his neck.

As if by instinct, both of them looked up towards Command to check if Operations was watching them. Seeing no one there, they returned smiles to each other.

"I wanna know how those two got together," said Nikita. She toyed with a spring on the table.

"Michael was promoted and assigned to the Alpha One team, the same team that Simone was on. They started working together after that, and I guess one thing led to another thing," said Walter with a shrug.

"Yes, but what THING made the two of them fall in love? How did he get the sword? Why didn't he go back for her during that Glass Curtain mission?" Nikita could not help the flurry of questions coming out of her.

Walter took the spring that Nikita was playing with and set it aside away from her. He sighed and leaned on his side against the work station. He clasped his hands and crossed his ankles.

"Sugar, you're gonna get me in a world of trouble if I go into that," said Walter. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"C'mon, Walter. Section isn't going to care if you tell me a few stories about a few of the operatives here, especially since one of them is dead."

"It's not Section I'm worried about taking offense to me telling you this. It's Michael. You know how private he is. I start spouting off about his relationship with Simone-"

"How is any of what you can tell me about them any different than what you've already said?" Nikita interrupted.

Walter considered Nikita a moment, weighing her reasoning against what he already knew and could guess would happen. He looked back out towards the main floor, noticing two operatives heading his way with very anxious looks on their faces. He recognized them as recruits newly graduated from their training program. They were coming for their scheduled artillery drills. Walter stood up fully and nodded at the young men.

"I would finish my tale, hon, but as you can see, I'm about to be really busy."

Nikita smirked as she lifted from the workstation. She regarded the recruits then looked back warily at Walter. She pointed at him.

"This isn't over, old man. I'm gonna come back."

Walter smiled.

"I hope that you do," he said with his usual perverted undertone.

Nikita walked away from Walter's station and headed back towards her own terminal. It was nearly five o'clock in the evening and almost time for her to end her workday. She spied Michael in his office, standing at his window drinking something hot in a white porcelain mug. He was dressed in a black tailored suit and v-neck silk shirt. His dark hair was short this time having gotten permission to cut it, but only by a little. He was shaven and watching a training class go through reps with Master Yoshi. His light eyes tracked over to her and stared with icy solemnity. She froze in place, feeling as though her heart was also about to stop seeing him staring at her in such a way. It was strange to think that there once was a time when Michael's freezer like demeanor was a lot warmer and inviting. She wondered what all happened to him to cause him to become so chilling. From what she now knew of his first real mission, his track with Section did not start easy, nor had the subsequent missions he was sent on before she ever met him. He had been alive and full of questions in his early years with Section, much like herself. He was never truly a disciplinary problem, but he did have a voice at one time, and he used it. After so many years and surviving so many missions with Section, his voice grew quieter and quieter as the years passed and things began to be taken away. What was left was a near-silent killer, resolute in his judgment, and often cruel in his means. He had said that he was no one, an illusion, and perhaps that was exactly what he had become. It was the reason why after nearly four years of knowing him, she still could not tell one thing that was honest and true of Michael. Even after everything that she witnessed and experienced of him, he continued to be an enigma to everyone around him, and especially to her. It was said that Simone was the only woman to ever truly know Michael and understand him. The only woman he ever let get close enough to love. She wondered if she could ever be that close to him, for him to love her as deeply as he did Simone.

Nikita lowered her eyes a moment, thinking of the questions she wanted to ask, but found herself out of time to ask them. Her cellular phone began to buzz in the back pocket of her jeans. She answered it quickly.

"Miss Wirth? Your reservation has been booked for Bora Bora. Your flight will depart at 9:15 a.m. You will need to arrive at the airport two hours before take-off," instructed the travel planner Nikita hired to put together her vacation.

"Ummm, there's been a change in plans," said Nikita. "I'm not going to Bora Bora. I'll need whatever flight I can get to Egypt instead."

The travel planner quickly attempted to talk Nikita out of changing her vacation schedule and keep her existing itinerary to her original destination.

"I've made up my mind. I won't get on that plane unless it is going to Egypt," said Nikita flatly. "More specifically, Alexandria."

The travel planner conceded reluctantly and informed Nikita that she would call her back with the altered travel plans and a few suggestions of tours available within their offered vacation package. Nikita thanked the woman for being so nice and hung up before the planner could respond. She took in a breath and smiled to herself. She looked back at the window Michael was standing at and saw it empty. In his way, he managed to disappear again into nothingness.

She went to her terminal and began researching her trip, considering her new destination. She had chosen Bora Bora off of a whim, thinking only of the sands and the warm sun dancing on her shoulders. She felt she would likely sit on the beach for a few days, get bored, then feel trapped on the beach for the remainder of her time there. At least in Egypt, she had a clear purpose for going. She wanted to see the things that Michael saw and feel the air in which he inhabited at one time. She knew she might not be able to lie in the same room that he once stayed, but she could at least experience it. She wanted to better understand him.

To know him.

It was once said that the best predictor of the future was the past. She wondered if Michael, with all of his many demons that followed him daily, was attempting to change this thought. Was he trying to distance himself from her because he saw in her someone he had already ruined one time before? Considering what Walter had said happened to Suriya, his first-ever Valentine mission, she wondered if Michael was trying in some way to erase his own past and rewrite his future by not doing all that he had so freely and willingly done before. She could not know and knew that Michael would certainly never tell. There were reasons why Michael remained in the shadows, watching with sad eyes as life passed by. He felt himself no longer a part of the brilliant tapestry that was living. It had been stolen away from him over time until there was nothing left but the thought and imagination of him.

Yesterday, upon the stair,

I met a man who wasn't there

He wasn't there again today

I wish I wish he'd go away...

He was, as he put it, an illusion. Not here, not anywhere or anyone.

He was...No one.