Adrian laid as quiet as a mouse on a cot in a dark room, his head pounding from over-medication and his recollection of what happened over the past 9 hours a blur. He vaguely recalled being snatched from the parking lot near Channel 10 news, struggling against his captors and then feeling a jab in his rear upper thigh. After that, all he recalled was the sound of muffled voices and helicopter blades. With blindfold removed, he had no idea where he was, what time it was, or what the people who had taken him wanted from him. Was it daytime? Or was it night? Was he still in Boston? He didn't think so. Was he in danger? He wasn't sure. Taking all of this into account, it was understandable why he felt uneasy and afraid.

After about twenty minutes of allowing his thoughts to run rampant, he decided to call out for help. He didn't think anyone would hear him, and if they did, they not might be the people he wanted to hear him; but, it felt like he was doing something.

After a few seconds of this, the door opened, and in stepped a man in a white lab coat about 45 years old.

"Ah, you're awake." He stated, walking up to Adrian and checking his pulse. "You gave us a scare. The sedative we gave you was only supposed to knock you out for about a half-hour until we could transfer you to the helicopter. But, you've been out for 9 hours. Your metabolism must really not like drugs."

Adrian didn't know what to say. He had been asleep 9 hours? This made it nighttime.

"Where am I?" asked Adrian said, squinting and holding his temple as he looked up at the man's form against the ceiling light.

"You are at an 'undisclosed location.'" Said the man. "My name is Dr. Frank Steele. I am assistant to the President's personal physician, and have been told to look after you to make sure that you're okay. Looks like you have a headache. I can give you something for that. Are you allergic to Ibuprofen?"

"No. I'm not... You work for the President?" asked Adrian.

"Yes. President Stoddard. It is at his request that you have been brought here. I'm going to let you rest for a little bit while I go get the medicine, and then we'll go see if he is still up." Said Steele.

"I…um…do you have a phone? I need to call my wife and let her know I'm okay." Adrian asked.

"Sorry. No outgoing phone calls. My understanding is that your wife knows you are safe. That's all she needs to know for now. I'll be back." He answered, leaving the room.

The President? Undisclosed location? Why him?

Before he could delve too deeply into that line of thought, his door opened again. He looked up, and there standing with her slender frame in a form fitting tailored suit and heels was the Director of the FBI. Backing up to the door to shut it behind her, she slinked over beside him. "Adrian! I was so happy to hear you were awake!" she said.

"Hello, Sharon. I should have known you would be here." He said.

As she sat down on the cot beside him, she put her hand on his leg. "Yeah, well, the President has put me in charge of all of this. Sounds like you've been a very bad boy."

"I don't know what you mean." He said, moving her hand off of his leg and back to the cot.

"You've been delving into areas that you aren't allowed to delve into, getting into systems you shouldn't. Adrian, you know better than that!"

"I was checking out something that I saw. That's all." He said.

"You saw the attack on the National Guard? And the Attack on the Presidential Motorcade? Come on, Monk. Who are you trying to kid? "she said. But then scooting closer to him to the point that her suit sleeve touched his sleeve, she crossed her stocking-covered legs and let her knee touch his leg. "But don't worry. I have put in a good word for you with the President and told him that an intellect like yours is exactly the type that I need on my team." Touching his sleeve with her hand. "Isn't that wonderful! We get to work together again!"

Adrian stood, stumbling slightly, being lightheaded from the medicine. "I believe I get a say in this, don't I, Sharon?"

"But of course." She said.

"Then, I will save my comments for when I talk with John. Until then, my head is splitting and I'm waiting on Dr. Steele, so if you don't mind…" he said.

Grier tightened her jaw and let her lips fall into a serpentine smile. "Certainly. I just wanted to stop in and welcome you to our compound. You should be able to see the President soon."

"Fine. Good evening." He said, turning his back to her as she left the room.

His experience with Sharon Grier was that she liked to play seductress where he was concerned. He wasn't even remotely interested in her, but even if he had been, his loyalty to Natalie trumped all. Still, the last thing he wanted was to be away from his wife and word get back to her that he somehow was going to be linked up with Sharon Grier. He had seen the green-eyed-monster take over his normally steady soul-mate when Grier had made overtures towards him back in Washington D.C. With him being taken as abruptly as he had been, he knew that Natalie was probably already an emotional wreck. He needed to talk with John to try to 'fix' the situation before things went from bad to worse.


In Swampscott, Leland and TK were not having a good time. Instead of relaxing near the beach and catching up, they were trying to comfort crying babies and their crying mama.

"Natalie, he's okay. Listen, the note says he is okay." Said Leland.

"How do I know who the note is from? How do we know anything? Leland. If this were good guys, why would they have kidnapped him?" she asked, pacing the floor.

"I…I don't know. He's in the political world now and …well, a lot of weird things are going on." Leland said.

"Maybe they are taking him to the President." TK suggested. "They would want to keep that sort of thing quiet."

"Quiet, yes. But that implies they can't trust Adrian. John Stoddard knows he can trust Adrian." She said. "No. It's terrorists."

"Oh, good grief. Natalie, there is nothing to indicate this is terrorists. Why would terrorists want Monk?" Leland reasoned.

"Because, he works for the DOJ." Said Natalie.

"And so, do thousands of other people. Besides, Monk's position is not high profile enough to warrant anyone wanting to kidnap him. Frankly, it seems he was in more danger when he worked in San Francisco." Leland said.

Natalie would not be dissuaded. She just knew something horrible had happened. It was the shock of his cries as he was put into the car that drove her there, and the sheer adrenaline that it had produced in her body. Like a caged cat, she was desperate to get to him, wherever he was, but there was something new in her psyche as well – something affecting her far more than she realized that she would soon have to confront – that they would soon have to confront.


Adrian was led through dark grey corridors and then through three sets of high security doors, each guarded by Secret Service agents, until he reached Stoddard's hideout. Walking through the doors, he entered a dimly lighted office with black walls and computer monitors all along the ceiling. John Stoddard was seated at his desk with his arm up under his jacket in a sling and a bandage on his forehead. Worry etched his face, making him look ten years older. Clearly, recent days had taken their toll on him.

He looked up, only for a moment and then back down.

"Good evening, cousin." Was all he said.

"Good evening, John. I'm glad to see you are okay." Adrian said.

"Am I?" he asked.

Adrian was silent, not knowing how or if he should reply.

After about a minute, Stoddard looked up at him.

"I'm sorry that they had to bring you in on this the way they did. Unfortunately, you did not leave us any choice." He said. "Adrian, you can't just go digging wherever you please. It doesn't work that way around here. We have teams. They have their own assignments. You're not a consultant in San Francisco anymore. You can't just pick and choose."

"Those teams are getting nowhere while people die, sir." Adrian said.

Stoddard stopped and looked at Monk. "Not nowhere." He stood, and walked over to the opposite side of his desk and motioned for Monk to sit. He then told his secret service to wait outside.

"Adrian, what I'm going to tell you is some of the most sensitive information that we know. It is not to leave this room. You can't even tell Natalie." He said.

"Then, I don't want to know." Said Adrian.

"Neither do I, but I get to know - and so do you. Just realize that if you slip up and let this out, your time with Natalie and those babies of yours will be spent in prison visits. Do you understand?" John said.

"I understand." Adrian said. "What is it?"

Stoddard stood and walked over to his desk. Pressing a couple of buttons on a keypad, he brought up a presentation. Going to the second page, he saw a map of the United States outlining 10 cities from coast to coast. Boston, D.C. and St. Louis were already highlighted with red stars. And there were yellow stars on New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Las Vegas, Chicago, Orlando, and Port Arthur, Texas.

"This. Ten Cities. Ten Targets. Three of them already checked off. Seven to go. This – is what our teams were getting nowhere on, as you say, while people died." Stoddard said as he sat on his desk looking between Adrian and the Screens.

"The MO is the same. Some sort of explosive device set at some location using some form of sensitive information. The weaponry used is wide-ranging and fit for its own purpose. Some of it is domestic, some of it is foreign. The image that you somehow obtained from the TV station (that we took off of your person on the helicopter) for instance – that Arabic inscription, it was a stamp indicating that the piece had been made in Libya. Specifically it was the Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya- the government of Muammar Qaddafi. Most likely sold to Western Sources after the Libyan Revolution in 2011." He said.

"Qaddafi's arms? Being used in America?" asked Adrian.

"Yes. These conflicts can often have repercussions that are quite far reaching and unpredictable. Who would have thought our arch enemy's demise would result in his weaponry being a threat to us anyway?" Stoddard said.

"Any idea who is responsible?" asked Adrian.

"No. Only that they have some very high level sources of information. And, this is where you come in. " Stoddard said, standing now in front of Monk. "We are going to overlook your security breach. We are also going to overlook your insubordination towards your Superior." John said.

"My insubord…"Adrian began.

"Yes. Insubordination, bordering on disciplinary action and even jail time – though I personally believe it was an innocent comedy of errors on both your and the IT woman Brittany's behalf. Instead, I'm removing you from the command of John Zinn." Stoddard said.

"I'm being demoted?" asked Adrian.

"Not at all. I am moving you elsewhere within the Department of Justice and putting you under Sharon Grier. You will be her Associate Deputy Director – third in line of succession in the FBI, second to Deputy Director Garrison Kennedy. Your assignment begins immediately." Stoddard said.

"Mr. President…" Adrian said.

"John." Stoddard corrected.

"John…Here's the thing. I…I would rather not." Adrian said.

"Oh?" asked Stoddard. "And why not?"

"Well…sir, it's Grier. And Natalie. You see…" Adrian started.

"Adrian. You seriously don't expect me to rearrange seats in matters of national security in order to pacify jealous wives? I don't even do that for my own wife." Said John.

"Well…with all due respect sir, your relationship with Gloria is a bit different than mine with Natalie. I love my wife and don't want to hurt her in any way or put a wedge in our relationship. We've fought too hard to get where we are." Monk said.

"And, I'm glad you have that relationship. But, this is a matter of national security. The wheels are already in place." Said Stoddard.

"What do you mean?" asked Adrian.

"Grier has already issued the press release saying that you will be her new Associate Deputy Director." Said Stoddard.

"She what?!" asked Adrian. "That's a bit presumptuous isn't it?"

"Not really. You see, Mr. Monk. When you signed up for the DOJ, you signed up to serve at the will of the President. Your contract states that you go where I say you go. You either will comply with that or…well, it could become rather messy." Said Stoddard.

Adrian glared at John. "John. I don't get this. I don't get you. I thought we were supposed to be friends. You could have at least talked with me."

John softened. "You're right. I could have. But you would have said no. And, we need you. You were right. We have the intelligence to show where the hits are going to be, but our investigators are a bit stuck. With you in the right spot, I think they will be able to move forward."

Adrian stared at Stoddard's desk thinking of all that had gone dowb, but mostly thinking about how Natalie was going to handle it. He was between a rock and hard place, and he resented it. Hopefully, she would understand. Hopefully, he could make it right.