Firezone

by Debbie Kluge

Story #6 in the Jealousy series. A new enemy with a lust for power makes life difficult for the Quests

9. Chapter 8 Thursday, December 23

Chapter 8

Thursday, December 23

Quest Compound

"You are sure that this is no trouble, Mr. Bannon? I am certain that you have many things you must do, and taking me to New York is not necessary. Surely there is a connection out of the airport we flew into the other day that will get me there."

Race grinned at Rajeev Subramanian and shook his head. "Doesn't matter if there is. I promised Hadji that I would take you there, so that's what I'm going to do." He grinned even wider as Rajeev began to shake his head, and said consolingly, "Furthermore, I have to go to New York, anyway. I have an appointment there this afternoon, and Estella has the final fitting for her wedding gown. So you are not inconveniencing us in any way. I don't want to hear another word about it!"

Rajeev bowed his head and replied, "Very well. Please accept my sincerest thanks for your kindness."

"No problem. And it's Race. We don't stand on formality in this house." Race rose from the dining room table and walked over to the coffeepot sitting on the buffet. "Can I get you a refill?"

"No, thank you. I need to go and finish packing. And I wish to find Kefira and have a few words with her before we leave."

"Well, I don't know about the packing, but you're going to have to wait to talk to Kefira. All four kids took off early this morning."

Rajeev looked surprised. "I did not hear them leave."

"They took the snowmobiles. The garage where we house them is down near the lighthouse, which is on the opposite end of the house from where you are. I think they were planning to show Kefira around a little, and then head into town once the stores opened up to finish up some errands for Jess. I warned them that they needed to be back here by 9:00." Race consulted his watch. "It's about 8:20 now. They should be back within a half hour or so."

"Pour one for me, would you, Race?" Both men looked up as Estella walked in the door. She looked trim and composed in her copper colored jumpsuit. "It's time for my morning dose of caffeine."

More like, she needs it to wake up this morning, Race thought in private amusement. Only three hours of sleep will do that to you. He handed her the cup as she walked up, admiring the line of her throat and the soft swell of her breasts. She thanked him pleasantly, but his thoughts must have been obvious, because the gaze in her sleepy, half-lidded eyes smoldered. There is something to be said for fighting, he thought as he felt his own desire flare again. The making up is always so much fun.

"So what's our agenda for the day?" she asked as she selected a box of cereal from the buffet and poured it into a bowl. She glanced at the assortment of breakfast food set out on the sideboard and added, "This is rather fancy, isn't it? We usually just fend for ourselves in the kitchen."

Race chuckled, settling himself back at the table again. "Mrs. Evans was feeling energized this morning, I guess. She says it's not often we have guests and she just thought she would do things right."

"It truly was not necessary," Rajeev interjected, looking concerned.

Estella laughed. "When I came to live in this house, Rajeev, one of the first things I learned is that you don't argue with Mrs. Evans. How Benton ever coaxed her to come work for him is beyond me, but she is an absolute gem. He is really lucky."

"I bribed her," Benton said, joining the group. "With anything and everything I could think of. And it took a lot of convincing. I actually think it was her nephews that finally talked her into it."

"Who are her nephews?" Estella asked with interest.

Benton looked at her in surprise. "Matt and Bobby, Jonny's two friends. Didn't you realize that?"

"No, I didn't. I'd never made the connection." Estella looked thoughtful for a minute. "She hasn't said a word about the situation with Bobby and Francesca."

"No," Benton said, looking troubled, "she hasn't. I hope the fight between Bobby and Jonny isn't going to cause problems."

"Who is Francesca?" The concern in all of their faces caused Rajeev, who had been in the process of rising from the table, to pause "You have all been talking about her, and my daughter appears to know, but she has not told me anything".

Benton shook his head. "A girl who is apparently living in Rockport these days." He proceeded to give Rajeev a condensed account of their Rockport experiences with Francesca and her father. "I have to say that I agree with Jonny," he concluded. "I'm not very happy that she is here, either."

"Yeah, I know," Race agreed. "But there isn't much we can do about it. After you told me about her being back, I contacted a few people and made some discrete inquiries. Everything she told Jonny checked out. Her release from the Egyptian jail was negotiated by the new U.S. Ambassador, her father is still in jail, the Conners did willingly take her in as a host family, and she does appear to just be living the life of a normal high school student. There is absolutely nothing that says she is here for anything other than what she claims."

"Well, Jessie certainly doesn't buy it," Estella said firmly. She grinned at Race. "She has that same buzz you always got when you sensed something wrong. All her antenna are out and she's practically humming."

Race laughed. "She does have the radar. I've seen it kick in before. And that, more than anything else, is what's making me wary. Jess is seldom wrong when it comes to things like this. She wasn't wrong the first time she met Francesca, and I doubt she's wrong this time, either." He sighed. "I just wish that the girl hadn't decided to involve Bobby Evans. I like that kid and he doesn't deserve this."

"Neither does Marla Dawson," Benton agreed.

"And who is Marla Dawson?" Rajeev asked with interest. It seemed that the intrigue that surrounded this family made Bangalore palace politics look tame. No wonder Hadji was so efficient at dealing with his intractable advisory council!

"Bobby's former girl friend." Benton shook his head. "Of all of the people that I would have thought Francesca could have latched onto, I would never have dreamed she could have gotten to Bobby Evans."

Estella looked at Benton in surprise. "Why not? What's so different about Bobby?"

Benton leaned back, thinking about that question, then looked at Race. "How would you describe the twins, Race? You've known them as long as I have. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do," Race replied, rising to refill his coffee cup again.

"You're going to o/d on caffeine," Estella scolded him.

He grinned at her as he returned to his chair. "Not anytime soon," he replied. He thought about Benton's question a bit longer and then said, "Bobby and Matt are identical twins . . . and I mean identical. I'm trained to notice minute differences, and it took me quite a while to learn how to tell the two of them apart. And if they don't want you to know which one is which, I don't care how good you are, you won't figure it out. The main difference between them is more one of personality than it is of physical differences."

"Exactly," Benton agreed. "The two of them are incredibly close . . . they pretty much like the same things, do the same things, and excel at most of the same things . . . but it's the attitude they bring to it that's different. Matt is somewhat devil-may-care. He's bright and carefree, somewhat impulsive, looks at everything with a slightly twisted sense of humor, and doesn't get too serious about much of anything."

"He is also the lady's man of the pair," Race said dryly. "He's lucky if he dates the same girl three times in a row . . . and he never lacks for candidates!"

"Sounds familiar," Estella commented with a wicked grin. Race just grinned back at her and Rajeev chuckled, picking up on the joke.

Benton joined in the laughter. "She's got your number, hasn't she?"

"Always did," Race agreed, reaching over and caressing her cheek fleetingly. She smiled back at him contentedly.

"Bobby, on the other hand, is the serious one of the two," Benton continued, returning to the subject. "He tends to look at things from all angles, analyzes situations very carefully, and once he makes a decision about something, he sticks with it. He can be extremely tenacious. It's very rare that he changes his mind about anything. That's what I find so concerning about this entire mess. It's so out of character for him to turn from Marla this way."

"Aren't these two the same age as your son?" Rajeev asked.

"Same age as Jonny, yes."

"I would think, then, that he would be a little young to be that committed to his girlfriend."

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you," Benton replied. "But you have to understand, we moved here shortly before Jonny turned eleven years old, and at that time, Bobby and Marla were already a pair. Granted, they were still too young to really understand what that meant, but it didn't change the fact that those two were bonded. From everything I've seen, I thought that bond had only gotten stronger over the years. That's why I'm finding it hard to imagine anything that could have come between them."

"Nothing should have," a quiet voice from behind them said. The four adults at the table turned to see Martha Evans standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She moved quietly over and set a fresh pot of coffee on the buffet table without looking at any of them. Then she turned back and continued in the same quiet voice. "The woman is a demon. She is going to destroy my nephew, and none of us can seem to do anything to stop her."

Estella rose hastily and went to her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, she guided the older woman to the table and made her sit down. "Tell us," Estella urged her softly. "Tell us what's happened. Maybe we can help."

Mrs. Evans shook her head blindly. "His parents don't know what to do any longer. It's like he's possessed or something. He has always been a good boy . . . they both have . . . never a moment's trouble. But now Bobby is just running wild. He's out until all hours, his grades are slipping, he's openly defying his parents, and the other night . . . " Her voice choked up and she stopped.

Benton leaned over and took her hand gently in sympathy.

" . . . the other night he came home drunk . . . maybe even high on something. We don't know. Jim and Donna have no idea what to do any longer." The woman looked up at Benton in desperation. "Please, Dr. Quest, tell us what to do. We're so afraid something bad is going to happen to him."

Benton looked grim and squeezed her hand. "I don't know, Mrs. Evans, but I promise you we'll look into it."

Estella was staring at a spot on the table, frowning in concentration. Race watched her for a second and then said softly, "Stel?"

Her eyes rose and locked with his, and she said slowly, "I've just had a thought . . ."

"What?" Race encouraged her.

"Leeds," she replied.

"What about him?" Race prompted her as Benton and Rajeev looked at the two of them in confusion.

"Something you told me last night. You said Leeds was jumpy and had implied that he was concerned about the security here."

Benton sat forward abruptly, frowning. "So was Bennett. He didn't say as much, but it was really clear that he was seriously disturbed about something."

"And you said that he implied we were being watched." Estella continued, watching Race closely.

"He said, " Race replied slowly, "that we should hope we were being watched . . . that we needed someone watching our backs right now."

"Who is Leeds?" Rajeev asked in concern.

Race looked at him, frowning darkly. "Government man . . . in intelligence. I used to work with him before I joined Quest Enterprises. He called yesterday out of the blue, demanding to see me . . . insisting on a face-to-face meeting, no less . . . refused to say anything over the phone."

"You don't trust him," Benton observed, watching his friend.

"I never have. It doesn't pay . . . people who trust Leeds tend to end up dead. But you want to talk about spooked? Leeds sounds like he's practically jumping out of his skin, and that's seriously not like him."

"And I don't buy into coincidences," Estella added grimly. "I'd take any odds you'd want to offer that two spooked government men and Bobby's involvement with Francesca and change in behavior are all connected in some way." She looked at Race. "When are you supposed to meet Leeds?"

"At 1:00 today."

Estella grabbed his hand fiercely and pleaded, "Call somebody. Or let me come. You have to have someone at your back! You can't walk into this one alone. It stinks!"

"What the hell is going on, Race?" Benton demanded.

"Whoa. Slow down, both of you." Race caught Estella's hand in both of his and smiled. "Don't go off the deep end. I promise . . . I'll be careful. This meeting is set in a very public place and, believe me, I'll check it out carefully before I walk into anything."

"He can still kill you, even if it is a public place," Estella insisted. Race could see unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

"I'll come with you," Benton stated decisively. "Estella's right. If Leeds isn't to be trusted, you can't walk into a meeting with him alone."

"I will go also, " Rajeev said quietly. "The man will be much less likely to try anything if he has several people to deal with rather than a single man. I will call and let Anila know that I may be late getting home."

"Wait a minute . . ." Race began, but Benton cut him off.

"I appreciate your willingness to help, Rajeev, but we really can't allow you to put yourself in danger for us. I'm sure we can handle it."

Rajeev smiled. "It is a small thing, Dr. Quest. After all, if your son is to marry my daughter, then we are all family. And family supports family."

"Just hold it a second!" Race said loudly. In the sudden silence, he glared at all of them. "None of you are going with me. I have to do this alone. Leeds won't show if I have a crowd with me."

All of them started to protest, but Race silenced them with another glare. "Look, I know my business, and I tell you he won't show if all of you are there. Furthermore," Race looked at Benton sternly, "Leeds has no reason to want me dead. If there is a target here, it's probably you. Leeds turned downright panicky yesterday when I said I was going to New York and leaving you here. And you commented that Bennett said much the same thing when he was here. If that's the case, then it's pure stupidity to deliberately put you into the line of fire. I want you here, and I want the Compound security stepped up." He glanced up, addressing his comments to the air around him. "IRIS, upgrade Compound security to level two. Update the unlimited Compound access list to add Rajeev Subramanian and Kefira Subramanian, and . . ." he paused briefly and then looked apologetically at Mrs. Evans, " . . . remove Bobby and Matt Evans. Notify us of any approach to the Compound perimeter."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. ACCESS FILES UPDATED. SECURITY UPGRADED. STANDING BY."

"We're going to follow the plan we laid out last night," Race continued, looking at Estella. "You and I will fly Rajeev into the city. You'll pick up the car at our hangar and drive Rajeev to Kennedy so he can catch his outbound flight. From there, you'll go to the dress shop and get your dress.

"Benton, you'll stay here. I want you to start doing some serious research. We'll recruit the kids to help. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is. It's a good bet that whatever Leeds has to tell me, it won't be all he knows. I want to know what it is he's not saying. As soon as I've talked to him, I'll call and give you a better idea of what we're looking at. In the meantime, I'd suggest you start with Francesca Hamilton. Dig and see if you can turn up anything that I didn't find in the first round of inquiries. It won't hurt to check the status and whereabouts of some of our old "friends", either . . . particularly the Zin twins. I don't think any of them are likely to come back to haunt us, but you never know.

"Rajeev, I do appreciate your offer, but the best thing you can do for us now is to go home. If someone is watching us, the quickest way to warn them that we're wise to what's going on is to change our plans. Our knowledge that something is up is our single best advantage right now and we want to be sure it stays that way." Race hesitated fractionally. "Hadji will hate me for saying this, but maybe it might be wise if Kefira went with you. I'm not sure life around here is going to be very safe for a while."

Rajeev shook his head. "I appreciate what you are saying, Race, but I can promise you that even if I agreed to do this, my daughter would not leave. She does not run from trouble." He chuckled a bit sourly. "In fact, she tends to run toward it all too often. We can explain it to her, but . . . " He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

Race sighed, "Alright. We'll leave things the way they are, then. And Mrs. Evans," he finished, looking at her, "I promise you . . . we'll get to the bottom of this. Just tell your brother and his wife to hang in there."

"Thank you," she relied softly. She rose quietly and went back into the kitchen.

"What about when I'm finished at the dress shop?" Estella asked. "How do I meet up with you again?"

Race thought for a moment, then said, "You remember Figaro Pizzeria on West 46th Street?" Estella nodded. "After the meeting with Leeds, I'll catch a cab and meet you there." She looked unhappy, but didn't protest any further. Race smiled at her gently. "I'll be fine. I promise you. I don't want you to worry."

Estella shook her head and smiled a bit ruefully. "You can ask me to follow your directions and I'll do that, but don't even try to tell me not to worry, because it won't work. I'll be worried sick until I meet up with you again. But that's my right and you're just gonna have to live with it."

Race laughed softly and caressed her cheek again quickly. "Fair enough." He looked around the table. "So is everyone clear on what they are to do? Good. Then let's get rolling . . ."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Camden, Maine

Jessie and Kefira stood on the sidewalk in front of the flower shop in Camden staring into the shop window.

"But Jessie," Kefira said doubtfully, "how are we going to get them home? Even if we could figure out how to carry them on the snowmobiles, wouldn't they freeze before we got back to your house?"

"I don't know," Jessie replied in frustration. "I could just kick myself for letting Jonny talk me into taking the snowmobiles this morning. I should have insisted on the van. I'm running out of time to get everything ready. It would have helped a lot to be able to pick up the flowers and get them home this morning." Jessie looked at her watch and grimaced. "Dad's just gonna have a fit! It's almost 8:45 now, and he wanted to see us before he left." She looked around her. "And I have no clue where Jonny and Hadji are. We are never going to make it home on time."

"Yes, I know. My father is not going to be pleased, either."

Jessie grimaced. "And naturally, Quest has the cell phone so we can't even call and tell them we're gonna be late."

"Perhaps he will think to do it himself," Kefira said hopefully.

"Maybe," Jessie said doubtfully, "but it's more likely Hadji would think of it."

"I really think we are going to have to leave the flowers and come back for them later."

"Yeah. Come on, let's find them and head home." The two girls strode up the snowpacked sidewalk, searching for their companions. In the distance, they could see the large veranda that marked the restaurant near where their snowmobiles were parked, but as far as they could see, there was no sign of the boys. As they passed a gift shop, the door opened and a girl stepped out. Jessie glanced over and then stopped abruptly. "Marla . . ."

"Hi, Jessie." Marla Dawson attempted a smile, but it wasn't very successful. She was a relatively tall girl, but her drooping shoulders and bowed head made her appear shorter than her normal 5'10". Her blonde hair was pulled up under a hat, leaving her face curiously exposed. She was pale and rather gaunt, and her eyes had a bruised look about them.

Jessie licked her lips and began, "Marla, I've heard about . . ."

"I don't think I've met your friend, Jessie." Marla cut her off determinedly. "Hi, I'm Marla Dawson, a friend of Jessie's."

Kefira smiled at the new girl. "I am Kefira Subramanian from Bangalore. I am pleased to meet you. Jessie has spoken of you several times since I arrived."

"You're Hadji's girl, right?"

Kefira looked a bit startled. "Yes . . . yes, I guess I am. But how did you know that?"

Marla shrugged. "Everybody knows it . . . at least, everybody knows that his fiancée from India is coming to visit. It was a pretty safe guess. You have no idea how many hearts got broken around here when word got out about you."

Jessie grimaced. "The small town grapevine strikes again. Hadji's just gonna love it. How much you wanna bet he's gonna blame Jonny for letting the cat out of the bag?"

Marla chuckled involuntarily. "Probably."

"Where did you hear it from?"

Marla shrugged. "I heard it from Becca Harris, and Becca said she got it from Cyndie."

"Oh, great! If Cyndie knows, then the entire state knows." Jessie sighed and looked over at Kefira. "I'm sorry, Kefira. I really don't know how word got out."

The Indian girl just laughed. "I do not have a problem with people knowing about our betrothal . . . even if it is not formal yet. Hadji might, but it does not bother me." Then she got a speculative look on her face. "So he was popular here? Dated a great deal?"

Marla grinned at her, seeming to come a bit more alive. "Oh, yeah. Those girls that weren't chasing Jonny, were after Hadji. And some of them were pretty determined."

Jessie snorted in disgust. "You know as well as I do that Linda Zaveri didn't stand a chance."

"Maybe not, but it sure didn't stop her from trying!"

"I can tell there is a great deal that I am going to have to find out," Kefira said with determination.

The other two girls laughed. "At the Christmas party," Jessie promised her. " We'll get all of the girls together and we'll tell you Hadji stories."

"I will hold you to that promise!"

"Uh, Jessie, about your Christmas party . . ." Marla said hesitantly, looking despondent again. "I really don't think I'm gonna be able to make it."

"What? Why not? You can't back out. We want you there!"

"I just c-c-can't face it," Marla stammered, and suddenly a tear slid down her face.

Jessie and Kefira stepped to either side of the other girl and put their arms around her.

"Marla, you can't give up," Jessie exclaimed. "You and Bobby have been through too much together to just throw it all away."

"Yeah? Tell Bobby that!" Marla retorted with a flash of anger. But then the anger died again, to be replaced with a dejected slump.

"You gotta believe, Marla. Francesca is after something. Bobby is just a means to an end. Sooner or later, she's gonna dump him and he will really need you. You just have to be patient. He'll come back."

Marla reached up and wiped the tears with her hand and sniffed. "I keep telling myself that, Jessie, but you know what my mind keeps saying back to me?" Jessie shook her head. "I keep wondering if, in the end, I should even want him back. I mean, if he's does this to me once, what's the chance he will do it again? And I hurt so much right now that I'm not sure I ever want to open myself up to that again. I keep thinking that if he does get dumped and comes back to me, that I should just turn around and walk away."

Jessie sighed. "I know, Marla. I've been there and it's the pits. But you really can't let it get to you. Furthermore, it's not smart to make a decision like that right now . . . not when you're so upset. If you do, then Francesca really does win."

"After all," Kefira pointed out, "if she deliberately went after him and she is as beautiful and manipulative as I have heard she is, he probably did not stand much chance."

Jessie hesitated briefly. "How did this happen, Marla? She had to have had an opening . . . a weak point . . . to exploit. I know she's good at that . . . she found mine easily enough. I just can't see what she could have found that allowed her to get to him in the first place."

Marla sighed and ran her hand over her eyes again. "We'd been arguing a lot lately, and we'd had a particularly nasty one the afternoon before he ran into her here in Camden. In fact, I was supposed to come with him that day, but he made me so angry I refused to go."

"But you guys don't ever fight!" Jessie protested. Marla shrugged her shoulders. "'What were you fighting about?"

Marla looked at Jessie briefly and then gazed down at the ground again. "You know I suffer from acrophobia, right? That I can't stand heights?" Jessie nodded. "Well, I got left out of just one too many things because of it, and I finally decided to do something about it. So I got Mom and Dad to take me to a therapist. I've been seeing the guy for about six months now. The idea is to acclimate yourself slowly to your fear, increasing your exposure to it until you learn to control it."

"Makes sense," Jessie replied, nodding.

"I wish Bobby thought so," Marla said bitterly. "He thought the whole thing was stupid. He said that if God had made me acrophobic, that I shouldn't worry about it. He claimed that it didn't prevent me from doing anything I really liked to do, so what was the big deal?"

"That is rather narrow minded," Kefira observed.

"To be fair, it wasn't Bobby just being a pain about it. Those sessions were really hard for me. I'd come home sweating and sick and so stressed I could hardly do anything. Bobby hated it. The longer I went, the more vocal he got about it, even when it was obvious that I was starting to get better. And then my doctor decided that it was time for a serious trial. This is a group session that I go to. There's about 12 of us and we all suffer from acrophobia. Our doctor decided to take us up in an airplane. The doctor told me he wasn't sure I was ready, but I was just determined."

"Uh oh," Jessie murmured.

"I knew what Bobby would say, so I didn't tell him. I just went." Marla shook her head. "It was a mistake. He was right . . . I wasn't ready. I was scared witless on the way up, and we'd leveled off and were just cruising around about five minutes later when I totally lost it. It was bad. Dr. Mason ended up coming to our house and sedating me. And once I was conscious again, I was so demoralized that I missed three days of school. When Bobby finally found out about it, he was furious. And when I told him that I intended to keep going, he just exploded and we had a really nasty fight over it."

Jessie looked thoughtful. "Where did this happen? The fight, I mean."

"I don't understand," Marla replied, looking confused.

"Was it at home, at school, where? Was anyone around?"

"Not that I know of," Marla responded. "It happened in the hall right outside of the gym at school . . . down by the girl's locker room. It was after school and everyone seemed to be gone."

Jessie was quiet, thinking hard. Kefira watched her closely, and finally said matter-of-factly, "You do not think they were alone."

"And two days later, Francesca ran into him in Camden?" Jessie asked.

"No," Marla replied, shaking her head. "It was the very next day. Our fight occurred on Friday evening before we left school. I told him then that I didn't want to see him for a while, but he showed up the next morning to take me to Camden with him anyway. He just sorta assumed that I'd be over it by that time. That's when we really got into it. It was pretty nasty and he left really angry. Later that day he ran into Francesca here in Camden."

Jessie looked at Kefira and replied, "No, I don't think they were alone. I think Francesca saw the whole thing and spotted a weak point she could exploit."

"But why?" Marla asked desperately. "What does she . . ." She broke off with a gasp, her gaze focusing on something over Jessie's shoulder. "Oh, no . . ." she moaned.

"DON'T MOVE!" Jessie snapped to both of her companions. She looked at Marla sharply. "Francesca?"

"Yes," Marla whispered. "She just came out of the expensive dress shop up the street."

"Has she seen us?"

"No, I-I don't think so. She's not looking this way."

Jessie looked at the girl sharply. "Marla, I can't explain right now, but I need you to do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?"

"Y-y-yes."

"Good. Is she still looking the other way?" Marla nodded. "Okay, then I want you to go back into this shop and stay out of sight. Either go all the way through and out the back door, or lose yourself in the shop until all of us are gone."

"But . . . but why?" Marla asked, bewildered.

"I don't want her seeing us together. It's important that she thinks that her old 'divide and conquer' tactic is still working. Go on. I promise you, I'll call and explain what's going on as soon as I can."

Marla nodded and, with another quick glance up the street, ducked back into the shop and disappeared. Jessie and Kefira stood there silently for a minute before Jessie turned casually as if to say something to Kefira. The Indian girl did not miss the lightning-quick glance that Jessie shot up the street.

"She's turning," Jessie said quietly. "She'll see us any minute."

Kefira tilted her head to one side as though studying an item in the window of the store. She pointed to it as though directing Jessie's attention to it, and then said in a low voice, "Is she coming in this direction?"

That lightning fast look again. "Yes."

"Which one is she?"

"Small, dark hair, red coat." Jessie shook her head and pointed at a different item in the window display. Kefira turned, apparently to get a closer look, and shot a quick glance up the street. "I see her," she replied softly. "She has definitely spotted us and she is coming this way."

"You want to vacate?" Jessie questioned her.

"No," Kefira replied with conviction. "I want to meet her. It is a foolhardy man who does not learn to know his enemies."

Jessie laughed out loud just as Francesca got within earshot. "I swear, you sound just like Hadji!"

Kefira laughed easily. "It rubs off."

"Hello, Jessie." The saccharine sweet voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Jessie glanced over negligently. "Francesca."

"I'm surprised to see you here."

Jessie raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Really? Why is that?"

"Well, I heard that your parents are getting married tomorrow, and I figured you'd be all tied up with that. Such a shame they couldn't have done it sooner . . ."

Jessie feigned surprise, refusing to rise to the implied insult on her parentage. "Sooner? But they didn't want to do it any sooner. They wanted a Christmas Eve wedding. It has actually worked out quite well. And as for being busy prepping for it? Good heavens no, everything is already set. I've just been showing Kefira around."

Francesca turned and looked the other girl up and down. "Oh, yes. This is Hadji's mail-order bride, right?"

"It was not necessary to do it by mail, actually," Kefira responded calmly, completely unruffled by the other girl's venom. "Kefira Subramanian." She extended her hand politely. "And you are?"

The girl took the proffered hand reluctantly. "Francesca Hamilton. I'm sure Jonny has mentioned me."

Kefira frowned thoughtfully. "Not that I can recall. But then, I've met so many new people since I arrived . . ." She shrugged negligently, implying that Francesca was just one of many. Both girls saw Francesca flush slightly.

Abruptly, Francesca turned to Jessie with a somewhat belligerent look and said, "Bobby tells me that Jonny has refused to invite us to your Christmas party."

Jessie shrugged. "I don't know that any final decision has been made, but I do know he's reluctant to have you around. I mean, all things considered, can you blame him?"

"Why don't you invite me?" Francesca challenged her.

Jessie laughed sourly. "You mean, go behind Jonny's back? You'd love that . . . start a pretty fight, now wouldn't it? No, that's your style, Francesca, not mine. If the two of you get invited, it will be because Jonny changed his mind, not because I went around him."

Francesca narrowed her eyes, staring at the redhead suspiciously. "Are you saying you don't mind if I'm there?"

"No skin off of my nose, one way or the other," Jessie replied negligently. "I told you at the Christmas Festival . . . you're no threat to me. I'm not even angry over the things you did to me any longer. What would be the point? In the long run, we won and you lost. It's that simple."

"It's not over!" Francesca hissed in fury. "You may have won one battle, but not the war. I don't lose to the likes of you!"

Jessie's hold on her temper finally snapped, and turning abruptly, she stepped forward and got right in the other girl's face. "Then bring it on," she replied in a soft, menacing voice. "I'm getting sick of your veiled threats and the way you use innocent people. We both know just exactly what you are, Francesca . . . a petty, evil, vindictive little slut who doesn't care who she hurts to get what she wants. Well, I'll tell you, I don't mind a good fight, and now that I know how low you'll sink, I understand the rules of the game. I'm ready whenever you are."

Kefira stood back, watching the two of them warily and not making a sound. Both girls were so furious, a wrong word could trip this confrontation over into violence. The silence lengthened until, finally, Francesca took a deep breath and stepped back.

"Not yet," she replied with a malignant twist to her lips. "The day's coming, Bannon. We're going to finish what we started in Cairo, I promise you! And this time, the outcome will be completely different." Francesca spun and strode away, leaving Jessie and Kefira standing alone on the street.

For a long moment, Jessie stood there rigidly, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing. Slowly, she forced her hands to relax and took a deep, steadying breath. "Well," she said finally, "that was fun." A sudden gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and Kefira could see her hand shake slightly as she reached up to tuck it behind her ears.

"She threatened you," Kefira stated calmly.

Jessie looked at her quickly. "Yeah, she did, more or less." Then she laughed a little ruefully. "Not that I didn't goad her to it. Damn. I hate it when I let her get to me like that!"

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Not much we can do, really," Jessie replied, rapidly calming down. "If we report it to the authorities, they'll just take it as a cat fight and ignore it."

"Cat fight?" Kefira asked in confusion.

Jessie laughed, her good humor returning suddenly. "Yeah. It's slang . . . means a petty fight between two people. It's usually used to describe petty spats between women."

The two girls turned and began moving down the street slowly, as Kefira replied, "It did not look very petty to me. She looked like a cobra poised to strike. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit you."

"Yeah, I know. And you want to know what the sorry part of it is?"

"What?"

"I was really hoping she'd try it."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quest Compound

Forty-five minutes later, the entire Quest family, along with the Subramanian's, held a council of war in the Compound family room. Everyone looked grim, and Jonny moved restlessly, unable to sit still.

" . . . and that's what happened," Jessie finished. "There was no facade this time . . . no attempt to hide behind the mask. She's definitely up to something, I just don't know what."

"I should have been there," Jonny snarled in frustrated anger.

Jessie flicked a quick glance his way. "I'm glad you weren't."

Estella leaned forward and commented thoughtfully, "Marla's story sheds an interesting light on things, too."

Race quirked an eyebrow at her and asked, "How so?"

"Well, look at it. Marla said she'd been dealing with her problem for close to six months, right?" Jessie and Kefira nodded. "And she also said that she and Bobby had been arguing about it almost since the beginning. That means Francesca didn't set this situation up. All she did was capitalize on it."

"Yes. So?"

"So why Bobby Evans? With her skills at manipulating people, she didn't need to go after him. There was a wealth of other boys in the school that were unattached who she probably could have turned in a single day if all she was looking for was an escort. Why go to the trouble to exploit the situation between Bobby and Marla? Even if Bobby really was furious over his fight with Marla, I don't think the disenchantment would have lasted once he calmed down. Not if Benton is right in his reading of Bobby's personality."

Benton looked at Estella thoughtfully, picking up on her idea. "You think that once she knew about the rift, she played it. That for some reason, it was worth the time and effort it took her to drive the wedge between Bobby and Marla and insert herself in Marla place."

"Yes," Estella said emphatically. "I think that's it exactly." She looked around the room at the men of the Quest family. "You've said all along that she wants something. And it's pretty obvious now that she thinks that Bobby Evans can get it for her. So the question becomes, what does Bobby have that Francesca thinks is of value?"

Jonny stopped his pacing long enough to say shortly, "Nothing. That's the problem."

"Sit down, Jonny," Benton said to his son. "Pacing the room like a caged tiger is not going to help matters. You need to calm down and think clearly."

"This is getting out of hand," Jonny replied hotly. "It was one thing when she was just being irritating, but now she's threatened Jessie. Cairo is NOT going to happen again! I'm going to put a stop to it here and now . . ."

All of the adults in the room sat up abruptly, looking alarmed. Benton started to rise, but before he had the chance, Jessie was up and standing face to face with Jonny.

"You will do no such thing," she snapped. "For once in your life, you are going to sit back and control that impulsiveness of yours. This is my fight . . . it always has been. It just took me a while to learn how she played the game. Well, now I know, and I will be the one to deal with her this time . . . not you."

"I'm not going to let you do that!" Jonny exclaimed angrily. "She's capable of anything. And you heard her . . . she threatened you . . . she wants you dead!"

"Yeah. So?" she demanded sarcastically. "What's so new about that? Sounds like the same old litany to me!"

"She did a pretty damned good job in Cairo!"

"I am getting so SICK of hearing about Cairo," Jessie snarled. "Okay, so she got the better of me then. I was blindsided. You think it's going to be that easy a second time? I don't think so! Wanting me dead and getting me that way are two completely different things."

"No!" Jonny shouted furiously. "I want . . ."

"I don't give a shit what you want!" Jessie screamed in fury. "I want you to let me deal with this!"

"What the hell do you expect of me?" Jonny yelled at her. "To sit back and watch her kill you?"

"No, I expect for you to have enough respect for my abilities that you don't go off like a bottle rocket on the 4th of July!" she screamed back. "I am capable of looking after myself, you know!"

Standing abruptly, Race uttered a particularly rude word and strode toward the picture window, saying, "Here we go again! When you two are finished, why don't you let the rest of us know so we can get something productive accomplished before we have to leave!"

Jonny and Jessie stood face-to-face, glaring at each other furiously.

"I have to apologize for their behavior, Rajeev," Benton said into the silence. "I'm afraid they both have tempers and when they get started . . ." he broke off and shook his head.

"So I see," Rajeev replied collectedly.

Hadji rose and went to stand beside the pair. He rested a hand on each of their shoulders and said softly, "None of us can afford to fight this battle alone. To succeed, we must act as a team. Please, both of you, come sit down and let us discuss this calmly."

Neither one of them said anything for a long moment. Then, slowly and with difficulty, Jonny said, "I . . . can't . . . sit back . . . and . . . watch her . . . kill . . . you. I . . . did that . . . once. I can't . . . take it . . . again." And then he reached out and pulled her into his arms, clinging to her tightly. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I can't."

Jessie wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. "I know. Hadji's right. No one can do this alone. It's going to take all of us." She pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. "Promise me . . . no one-man vendettas. Anything we do, we plan and execute as a team. Promise me . . . please."

Slowly, he nodded. "Alright. No one-man vendettas. You have my word. But I want the same from you . . . you don't go up against her alone, because you know when it comes right down to it, she won't come at you one-on-one."

Jessie smiled and reached up to touch his face. "I know. You've got a deal," she agreed and then pulled his head down and kissed him.

"Oh, alright . . . enough, already," Race said after a minute.

Jessie giggled as they broke the kiss and the two of them moved toward a nearby chair. Jonny settled into it comfortably, pulling Jessie down into his lap, and asked, "So what's our next move?"

Race looked at his watch. "We have got to leave or Rajeev will miss his plane and I'll miss the meeting with Leeds. I think that, for now, we'll follow the plan we discussed this morning and see what my meeting this afternoon brings." Race looked at the four young people. "You know what I want you to do, right?" They all nodded. "In the mean time, I think the best bet is for everyone to stick close to the Compound until Estella and I get back."

Jessie shook her head. "I can't, Dad. I've still got the last of the arrangements for the wedding to complete. It should only take about two or three hours, but I can't put it off. Not with the wedding scheduled for tomorrow. But Kefira and I could easily take care of it, while Jonny and Hadji work with Dr. Quest on the research."

Jonny shook his head. "That's not a good idea."

"And we still haven't given any thought to what Francesca is after," Estella added.

"She wants Jessie dead," Jonny said flatly. "That's what she's after."

Kefira, who had been quiet throughout the preceding discussions, shook her head and said quietly, "No, I do not think so."

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. Rajeev cocked one eyebrow and said, "What do you mean, daughter?"

Kefira thought carefully before saying, "During the confrontation between Jessie and Francesca, I just stood back and watched. I was afraid that if I tried to interfere, it would be enough to push the situation over into physical violence." She saw Jessie nod. "So I was in a position to watch the scenario as it played out and I am convinced that the meeting was completely unintended. She was not on that street because she was watching for us."

"You know, I think you're right, Kefira," Jessie agreed thoughtfully. "I think that if she had been watching us, she would have said something about Marla."

Kefira nodded. "And you said the façade was not there. That is not completely true. When she first came up, she was being . . . " she trailed off, searching for a word.

". . . catty . . . " Jessie supplied readily, and grinned at her.

The Indian girl grinned back. "Related to cat fight? All right. She was being catty. The pretense of being pleasant was there, but it had an undercurrent to it that was not pleasant. But it changed very abruptly when you told her you did not care if she came to the Christmas party. Then she became angry."

"She also didn't like it a bit when you said that you couldn't remember Jonny mentioning her."

"You were dismissing her," Estella commented. "She was unimportant."

"Yes, I think that was it," Kefira agreed. "It made her angry, but not to the edge of violence. I think that explosion was an accident."

"You're right," Jessie replied ruefully. "I precipitated that when I lost my temper."

Kefira looked directly at Jonny. "So I do not think that killing Jessie is her sole purpose. She wants to be invited to the Christmas party . . . very badly, by all indications." Her gaze traveled around the room, resting on the inhabitants one at a time. "I think that is the key . . . it is what she wants with Bobby Evans . . . and why no one else would do. Bobby can get her in here." She pointed down at the floor. "For some reason, she wants access to this place, and she recognizes that only a very few people can come and go here at will. Am I correct that Matt and Bobby Evans have that kind of access?"

Benton nodded. "Up until this morning, yes, they did. No one would have thought a thing about either of them being here."

"And it's a familiar tactic," Jonny added thoughtfully. "It's the same one she used on me. She played me because she wanted access to the Compound, and the minute she got it, she and her dad struck."

"But why Bobby?" Estella protested. "Why not Matt? He didn't have a girlfriend to get rid of, and a lady's man of his sort would have latched onto Francesca without a second thought." She glanced at Race. "No offense intended." He just grinned.

"No, I don't think so," Benton replied slowly. "Yes, Matt dates around a lot. But he's got a streak of the cynic in him and that tends to make him distrustful of people." Benton looked at his two sons. "Am I wrong about that?"

Jonny and Hadji exchanged a look, and Hadji replied, "No, Father, you are not wrong."

"Matt is a lot different from Bobby," Jonny agreed. "You wouldn't think so if you didn't know them well, but it's true. Where Bobby accepts that sometimes life will deal you a blow that makes you hurt, Matt is really afraid of that. He shields himself with that carefree, cynical attitude and he keeps people at a distance so he doesn't come to care about them too much. I really think that the person who is suffering the most from this whole mess is actually Matt. He can shield himself against the pain of acquaintances . . . he can even do it to some extent with friends . . . but he has no defenses for conflict within his own family."

"You should have seen him the other day in school," Jessie said with a stricken look. "He looked like he was dying from the inside out."

"And it's only going to get worse for him as time goes on," Jonny continued, "because once Francesca dumps Bobby . . . and she will, you can bet on it . . . all the pain in store for Bobby will end up being absorbed by Matt as well. As for Matt and Francesca as a couple . . . I don't think that he would ever have become involved with her. At least, not enough to bring her here. He wouldn't have trusted her that far."

"It is also possible that whatever she is after is not something she can just walk in and take," Hadji added. "If she was not under an immediate time constraint, I can see her moving slowly and working her target to get what she wants."

"So I believe the question then would be, what do you have here that she could want so badly?" Rajeev said.

"I'm betting that part of that answer is in New York with Connor Leeds," Race said decisively. "And that's where we need to go . . . right now. Jessica, if you are going to leave the Compound, you do NOT go alone. Am I clear?"

"Absolutely. Kefira and I will go together. We need to go in for her final fitting and to pick up all of our dresses anyway." Jonny started to protest, but Jessie covered his mouth with her fingers. "No. You and Hadji need to stay here and work with Dr. Quest on the research. Kefira and I have to go . . . you don't. I promise you . . . no more confrontations with Francesca today. If I see her, I'll run in the opposite direction. Okay?"

Jonny sighed. "Oh, all right."

Race nodded. "Good. Then let's move it, people. Now!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Enroute to New York City

A soft tapping on the cockpit door of the Quest Lear jet caused Race to turn.

"Come on in," he said in a slightly raised voice.

The door opened and Rajeev stuck his head in. "May I join you? Estella said she did not think you would mind."

"Not at all. Pull up a co-pilot's seat. I'd be happy for the company."

Rajeev settled himself comfortably and looked around the cockpit. "A beautiful aircraft," he commented.

"I like it. It seats 12, which is more than enough for our purposes. It handles transatlantic flights without a problem, and has no trouble landing on the runways we have at the Compound."

"You fly often, then."

Race nodded. "Quite a bit. Handling our own transport rather than relying on the commercial services cuts our travel time dramatically, which is pretty important when you consider the strange places we go to. Not to mention that a lot of the places aren't accessible by commercial airline!"

Rajeev laughed. "Well, I hope you enjoy piloting. I would think it would get a bit lonely up here."

"I do enjoy it, actually. Always have. And as for lonely, I don't usually have the opportunity. When the entire family flies, Benton almost always rides shotgun. He's gotten to be a pretty good pilot in his own right. And more and more often recently, I'm being relegated to the role of passenger." Rajeev gave him a questioning look and Race chuckled. "All three kids can fly and are more than competent. Jess is a truly outstanding pilot; there isn't much she can't handle. She's even flown military fighter jets once or twice." The pride in his voice was clear.

"A truly remarkable young lady. I am grateful that she seems to have taken a liking to my daughter. I believe that Kefira can use a friend."

Race glanced over at Rajeev. The man looked troubled. "Problem?"

Rajeev sighed and glanced at Race, then shook his head. "I do not know if it is her problem or mine. Kefira has always been . . . different . . . from all of the other children, and as a result she never had a great many friends. She always preferred going with me to the mines to playing with other children. There are also times when I just do not quite know how to deal with her."

Race grinned. "I know that feeling! Is Kefira your only child? I don't remember Hadji saying."

"No, we have five. Two boys and three girls. Sumant and Daria are older than Kefira, and Maia and Srinivasan are younger."

"All at home?"

"No. Sumant is married and lives in Bangalore City. He has a government position as a wildlife biologist. Daria is still at home, but not for much longer. She is to be married this June. And that leaves Maia and the baby."

Race raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How old is Sumant?"

"Twenty-four."

"And the baby?"

"Srinivasan is five."

Race grinned. "Started over, did you?"

Rajeev laughed. "I will admit it was rather unexpected. Maia was surprise enough. She is six years younger than Kefira. But when Srinivasan came along seven years later, Anila was a bit . . . disconcerted."

"I'll bet," Race replied. He was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, "Estella and I are hoping to have another child." He laughed with a tinge of embarrassment. "Talk about starting over!"

"What does your daughter think of that idea?"

"To be truthful, I don't really know. We haven't discussed it with her. I'm sure that if she has an opinion, we'll hear about it, though."

"Yes, I suspect you will," Rajeev said with a grin. "She has a temper, that one."

Race gazed heavenward. "You have no idea! She's stubborn, too. Gets it from her mother."

"Life must be lively with two people with such tempers paired up. Do they fight like that often?"

"Not really. Actually, Jonny doesn't have that much of a temper. It's just that Jess means so much to him and he kind of loses it when he thinks she's getting in over her head." Race looked thoughtful. "You know, it's kind of funny. I came to the Quests when Jonny was six and Hadji joined us a year or so later. It was about three years later, that Jessie began to spend time with us, as well. My original job was largely to care for the two boys while Benton worked on his research projects, so in many ways I raised both of them." A trace of sadness settled on his face. "For a long time, I was more of a parent to Benton's two boys than I was to my own daughter. Anyway, personality-wise, Hadji is very much Benton's son. They share the same interests and values, and neither is happier than when they are immersed in some convoluted project of one kind or another. Jonny, on the other hand, is a whole lot more like me. He's an adventure junkie . . . loves anything with a motor in it and will race them all. He'll try anything at least once and loves the stuff that gives him an adrenaline rush . . . parasailing, sky diving, hang gliding, rock climbing . . . you name it. He's also very competitive."

"And your daughter? Who does she take after?"

Race chuckled. "Depends on what you're talking about. Estella's the one with the temper. She used to get mad and start yelling at me in Spanish so thick and fast, I had no clue what she was saying. She's also highly intelligent, and has strength of character I've rarely seen. All of those things I see in my daughter. But she's also an adrenaline junkie and extremely competitive, both of which she gets from me. In some ways, she and Jonny are so much alike it's almost scary. When they were growing up, the two of them used to drive Benton and I to distraction because they were forever competing with each other. I swear they could turn anything into a competition. We both worried that sooner or later one of them was going to get seriously hurt, but they never did . . . largely because of Hadji, I think. He was the one moderating influence that both of them would listen to. And when they wouldn't listen, he simply went along to bail them out when they got into trouble!"

"I notice that no one says anything about Mrs. Quest," Rajeev commented slowly.

Race sighed. "It was Dr. Quest, actually, although she didn't usually use the title. No, no one talks about Rachel much. Even after all these years, Benton still grieves for her." Race glanced over at Rajeev and saw the question he was too polite to ask. He sighed again. "Rachel was killed when Jonny six years old. It was the main reason I was brought in. She was the light of Benton's life and when she died, it all but killed him."

"I am so sorry. Did you know her well?"

"No, not well. I had met her twice, both times on short-term assignments as security for government functions. She was a very special person . . . bright, fun-loving . . . she almost sparkled, she was so full of life. And beautiful . . . the kind of timeless beauty that never seems to change. She'd literally turn heads when she walked in the door. Look at Jonny and you'll get the idea. The resemblance between them is striking. Her death was a tragedy." Race shook his head. "I truly believe it's the reason Francesca is such a sore spot for Jonny. That boy has such depth of feeling for the people he cares about. That he gets from his mother. Her death left a lasting mark. Then, the first woman that he cared about that deeply again, was almost taken away under violent circumstances, much the way he lost his mother. The business in Cairo really threw him into a tailspin."

"That has been mentioned several times. Will you tell me about it?"

Race stared out the window sightlessly. Suddenly, Rajeev saw him jump slightly, and watched as his attention snapped back to the plane. "Acknowledged LaGuardia Tower," he said into his headset. "Correcting to 274. Standing by for further instructions." He glanced over to Rajeev. "I was afraid of this. They're stacked up and we've been put in a holding pattern."

"Is the delay going to cause a problem?"

"Shouldn't. I anticipated it. Even starting later than we'd planned, we've still got plenty of time. We should be on the ground by no later than 11:30. That gives Estella a good two and a half hours to get you to Kennedy." He grinned. "And I'll be taking a cab to Central Park. Knowing the cab drivers in this city, I should be early!" Rajeev laughed. But then Race sobered again. "But you asked about Cairo. That was a nasty business." Race told him briefly about the events of two years before. "And it all happened right at the time when the two of them were beginning to wake up to the fact that the feelings they had for each other were a lot stronger than just friendship. Jonny blamed himself for everything that happened because he was the one who was duped by Francesca. He was incredibly angry."

"I would say that he still is."

"Yes, I'm afraid you're right. He's never been able to let it go. And having Francesca back in Rockport has really aggravated the situation."

"I do trust that if I, or my family, may be of any service at all in this situation, that you will not hesitate to ask."

Race glanced over and smiled gratefully. "I appreciate that, Rajeev. I have to say, I think you've done more than enough, already, just by bringing Kefira here. She isn't the only one that can use a friend. Our life style tends to make it difficult to develop really close relationships, and it's been a long time since I've seen Jessie click with someone the way she seems to have done with Kefira. And there's Hadji. He cares for her a great deal and he has missed her since returning home."

"He is not alone. Kefira was extremely restless after he left for America. I think the only thing that kept her from driving her mother mad was that I began taking her to the mines with me. I kept her too busy to become too distracted." It was Rajeev's turn to sound proud. "She knew every mine . . . every workman . . . even the ones I had never allowed her to visit. She completed every task I gave her and asked for more. But . . . " and at that he frowned and stopped.

"But what?" Race prompted him.

"But she is my little girl, and all of a sudden she has seemed to grow up right before my eyes."

"They do that, don't they?" Both men sounded a bit melancholy.

"For some reason, it did not seem as difficult with Sumant. Or even Daria. But Kefira has proved to be much harder."

"Jess is my baby . . . my only child."

The silence between the two of them stretched out. Finally, Race sighed. "But there's not much we can do about it, I guess. And Jonny and Hadji are good young men. They will take care of our little girls." Rajeev nodded silently in agreement. Suddenly, Race straightened in his chair and said crisply, "Read that, LaGuardia Tower. We are cleared for approach." Race glanced over. "Well, here we go . . ."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

New York City

Race Bannon leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the Helmsley Park Lane Hotel on Central Park South and scanned the street idly. To all outward appearances, he was simply enjoying the beautiful winter landscape across the street. In the brilliant sunshine, the park looked festive, and the sound of laughter could be heard in the clear air. In truth, he was checking out his surroundings carefully. Across the street and up the block, the statues of Columbus Circle stood out clearly against the cityscape. Most of the snow had been cleared from the plaza, and the area was bustling with activity. Race scanned his surroundings again, but saw no sign of anything remotely suspicious. Satisfied, he checked his watch . . . 12:55 . . . time to go.

Reaching into the pocket of his parka, he pulled out a dark blue stocking cap and seated it carefully over his distinctive white hair. No point in making himself anymore of a discernable target than necessary. Thrusting his shoulders away from the wall, he strode casually up the street and joined the crowd of tourists at the crosswalk. By the time the light changed and the crowd moved en masse across the intersection and into Columbus Circle, he had lost himself in the middle of the throng. He moved fluidly, every sense alert and watchful. Moving past the statue of The Maine, which marked the entrance to the park, he joined a nearby crowd of tourists who were being directed toward the large monument of Columbus in the center of the Circle. He drifted with the crowd, listening inattentively to the guide as he scanned for any sign of Leeds.

"Before you is the status of Christopher Columbus, from which this plaza gets its name. Built with donations from Italian Americans from this city, it honors Columbus for his daring and faith in the face of insurmountable odds. Note the beautiful carving on the column . . . "

Race's restless eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of the man he was here to meet. Nothing. In the crisp, cold air Race heard the clear notes of chimes from a nearby church bell tower. It played a simple, sweet melody that was followed by the tolling of the hour . . . 1:00.

"The statue behind you, which marks the entrance to the park, was erected in honor of the 260 men who died aboard the American battleship, The Maine, in 1868." Race turned with the rest of the crowd and looked back toward the main gate of the park. He noted that the light had changed and a crowd of people was again crossing the street. Abruptly, he stiffened. Near the front of the crowd he spotted a face he knew. Raven black hair, restless blue eyes, fluid movements. Leeds.

Race drifted toward the edge of the crowd that surrounded him, observing the other man closely. He hadn't changed much over the intervening five years. A little older, maybe, but the sense of tightly controlled presence was still evident, even from this distance. Race watched as Leeds turned and searched the crowd milling at the gate. Race did a quick survey of the area again. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at him. He scanned the rooftops surrounding the area carefully, mindful of Estella's comment from earlier that morning. Nothing. Focusing his attention on Leeds again, Race carefully stepped out of crowd and moved a few steps into the open. Leeds head turned sharply, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. Then Leeds raised a casual hand in greeting, as though unexpectedly catching sight of a long lost friend, and moved toward him.

"Race," he called in a pleasant, cheerful voice, "what a surprise! It's been ages. How have you been?" Leeds reached him and Race turned naturally and matched his pace as the two men drifted further away from the clumps of people milling around the plaza.

"Very well, thank you. And you? What brings you to New York?"

Leeds laughed easily and replied, "Oh, business, as usual." They reached the edge of the plaza and stopped near a vacant bench. Both glanced around, but there was no one near them. Race smiled cordially and said in a low, hard tone, "Alright, Leeds, I'm here. Now what the hell do you want?"

Leeds' eyes darted restlessly, continuously scanning his surroundings. "There's something big going on, Bannon . . . something serious. And whether you know it or not, you're square in the middle of it."

Race's eyes narrowed sharply, although the false smile never left his face. "What kind of 'something', Leeds? You're going to have to be more specific than that. And how is it that I ended up in the middle of it?"

Leeds shifted slightly and the brilliant sunshine caught him full in the eyes. He squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand, as he replied, "Not you. You're only in the middle of it because of who you work for. The man in danger is Quest. He's got knowledge that someone out there wants very badly and who is prepared to go to any lengths to get."

"Who?"

The dark haired man shifted uneasily and finally said, "I'm not at liberty to say."

"Then what does he want?"

"I can't tell you that, either."

Race swore sharply and turned away from his companion. "This is a load of crap. I'm out of here."

"No! Wait! You have to hear me out."

"Hear you out?" Race spat, the pleasant pretense forgotten. "What for? You aren't telling me anything. Hell, do you think I'm a novice, Leeds? I already know something is going on."

"What?! What do you know?" the other man demanded.

"I know that the government is jumping out of its skin . . . enough so that Admiral Bennett got sent to Benton Quest on a fishing expedition. I know there's a government man planted in Rockport doing surveillance on the Compound . . . " Race smiled tightly at Leeds' involuntary start. "Benton and the kids don't know, but I spotted him almost as soon as I got home. And I know that it must have eaten a hole in your gut to have to call me after all these years. So are we going to play ring-around-the-rosy, or are you going to tell me why they sent you here?"

A couple of teenagers walked by just then and gave the two men a strange look. Leeds swore softly under his breath and grabbed Race's arm, leading him toward one of the pedestrian footpaths. Reluctantly, Race followed.

"They don't know I'm here. We've been expressly forbidden to talk to you about this or let Quest know what's going on."

"Forbidden by whom?"

"Someone high up in the government."

"Who?"

Leeds hesitated again and then sighed. "Niemeyer."

"The White House Chief of Staff?"

"Yes."

"Why? And since when does he have the power to make that kind of decision?"

"Since the president gave him that kind of power," Leeds said sourly. "The whole set up stinks right now. Niemeyer doesn't trust Quest. Thinks he's too powerful and too far out of the government's sphere of influence to be safe." The man hesitated briefly, then plunged on again. "We're being pressured to set Quest up as a target to draw our enemies out into the open."

Race swore softly to himself. No, intelligence work hadn't changed since he'd gotten out of it. It was still a filthy business where using anyone or anything to accomplish the end objective was considered fair.

"Who's the quarry?"

"A man by the name of Baxter . . . Richard Elias Baxter."

"Head of Elias International," Race said after a moment of thought. "Fingers into a little of everything, multi-national, reclusive . . . that the one?"

"That's him."

"What's he done?"

The two men walked leisurely along the footpath and Leeds was quiet for a long moment, allowing a group of pedestrians to pass them. Finally, with great reluctance, he replied, "You remember the Halfaya Pass incident?"

Race's mouth twisted bitterly. "I'm not likely to forget it."

"The head of the outfit we were trying to break up was Baxter. After the incident in Africa, he went to ground. I've been working this constantly ever since, trying to find a way to bring the bastard down for what he did that night."

Race stopped dead and, reaching out, he grabbed Leeds and jerked him to a halt, forcing the man to face him. "Let's get this straight, once and for all, Leeds. The fiasco in Africa was your doing . . . no one else's. Your hotdog tactics and lust for glory cost the lives of ten good men that night. They were kids . . . 18, 19 and 20 year olds . . . some of them fresh out of boot camp and barely away from their mothers for the first time. And you went outside of protocol to launch a spur-of-the-moment, poorly planned operation with absolutely no back up that got every one of them slaughtered just so your resume could say that you had brought down a bigtime, international gun runner. Well, Leeds, it sucks. It sucked then and it still does. And it's high time you start owning up to your part in it. I covered for you back then when I probably shouldn't have, but you can bet I'll never do it again. If you want to chase Baxter for some personal vendetta over Halfaya Pass, then you go right ahead, but you damned well better remember those ten kids you got killed. Because if you don't, there's gonna be a lot more like them!" The two men stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Race said, "You have anything else to say, cause it's getting late and I gotta go."

Leeds' jaw worked and Race watched as he unclenched his fists slowly. "Just watch your back, Bannon, and those of the Quest family. Baxter and his people will stop at nothing to get what they want, and it's rapidly coming down to the point where the only place they can get it is from Benton Quest. And if that happens, I'm afraid that a time will come when certain people will decide that keeping his knowledge out of the enemy's hands must take precedence over everything else. If it gets that bad . . . well, let's just say you're going to have a lot more to worry about than just Baxter." With that, the man turned and strode away, leaving Race Bannon standing there with a gathering chill running up his spine.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was close to 4:00 p.m. by the time Race pushed through the door to Figaroa Pizzeria and looked around for Estella. The restaurant was still relatively quiet at this hour and a quick glance around told Race that he had arrived before her.

"Please have a seat anywhere you would like, sir," a waiter commented to him as he moved past Race with a pizza balanced on one hand. "I'll be there to take your order in a minute."

Race nodded and moved to a table that sat in front of the windows, where he could look out on the street. Shedding coat and hat, he settled down to wait. The waiter came up and Race ordered coffee, telling him he was waiting for someone else to join him. As the man moved away, Race thought again about his conversation with Leeds. That the man had left a lot out was obvious. As was the fact that I-1 was running scared. Race shook his head. To be taking orders from the White House Chief of Staff? That was sheer insanity. That back door was meant only as a clandestine route to funnel information to the president, not as an avenue to dispense orders. And the man's parting shot was starting to make Race sweat. He didn't like the direction this was moving at all.

Reaching down into the pocket of his jacket, he hauled out his cell phone. Flipping it open, he punched in the speed dial code for the main number at the Compound and waited impatiently for connection to be completed. Finally, a click sounded on the other end and Benton's voice answered,

"Hello?"

"Benton, it's Race."

"I'm glad to hear from you. We were starting to get worried. Is Estella with you?"

"No. I just got here and she hasn't arrived yet. Look, I'm not going to say much over the phone, but you remember that research we were discussing earlier? Well, I think it might benefit us to look into one of the large multi-national firms. You know . . . like Howard and Howard, White Enterprises, or Elias International." The emphasis was subtle, but the change in Benton's voice told Race that he hadn't missed it.

"That's an excellent idea. Looking into a company with broader holdings may be just the thing. I'll get started on that right away."

"Have Jessie and Kefira made it home yet?'

"Yes, they got in just a little while ago."

"Well, do me a favor and let Jess know that I want that security upgrade done right away. It's been put off too long as it is." Again, Race could tell that Benton had picked up on what he was trying to say.

"I'll tell her. How far should she go with it?"

"All the way. I'll check her work when I get home." In the background, Race heard the bell above the door jingle and he glanced over quickly. The woman who had come in the door had her back to him, but he could tell by her clothing that it wasn't Estella. He turned back to the window and continued, "Once Stel gets here, we'll grab dinner and then head for the airport. We should be back by about eight or so."

"Alright, we'll look for you then. And in the mean time, take care, okay? Tomorrow's your wedding day, after all."

Race chuckled softly. "I won't forget. I'll talk to you later." He lowered the phone and just as he hit the disconnect button, a sultry voice said,

"Hello, Race."

He jerked around sharply, tense and ready to strike, only to stop short, gaping up in astonishment into the seductive dark eyes of Jade Kenyon.

"Jade?" he said in disbelief.

"As ever," she replied with a laugh. She moved gracefully to the opposite side of the table and began unbuttoning her coat. Race rose and reached out to hold it for her as she slid out of it. Taking it from him, she tossed it carelessly across a nearby chair and sank down across from him. "It's been a long time."

"Close to three years," he agreed. He gazed at her for a long time. He could spot subtle changes when he looked closely . . . a few new lines around her eyes, a slightly different haircut, maybe just a little gaunter . . . but other than that, she looked just like the same old Jade. "What are you doing in New York?"

She tossed her head back and chuckled deeply. He automatically admired the smooth line of her throat as it disappeared into the deeply cut line of her blouse. The silky fabric clung to her body in a way that was guaranteed to raise any red-blooded male's blood pressure by several points. "Slumming," she replied lightly. She reached across the table and caught his hand in hers, toying with his fingers gently. "It's good to see you again. It's been rather dull without you around." Her touch was light and sensuous, and it reminded him sharply of other times when those fingers had wandered over other parts of his body with the same sort of touch.

Shit! he thought, sitting back abruptly and pulling his hand away. Where the hell is Estella? He rubbed the hand unconsciously, as though it had received an electric shock, and stared at her in consternation.

"If I didn't know better, I would think you aren't glad to see me," she pouted, but the glance she shot him through her lashes was enough to set the tablecloth on fire.

"I'm surprised to see you, that's all. I thought you were still in the Orient."

She shrugged and waved at the waiter. "I come and go," she replied. As the man came up, she said, "Can you get me a cup of tea . . . green tea preferably, if you have it."

The waiter hesitated a moment, then bowed slightly. "Certainly. Are you ready to order now?"

Jade said, "Yes," at the exact same instant that Race replied, "No!" in a forceful voice. Jade looked at him in surprise, and he added, "I'm here waiting for someone."

It sounded lame, even to him. Race watched as the waiter looked Jade up and down, taking in her raven hair, lithe body, flawless skin, and long, shapely legs. She was a beautiful woman and the waiter's gaze said that he recognized that fact. The disbelieving look the man then shot him very clearly said, Are you crazy? You're going to pass that up?!? But all he said aloud was, "Certainly, sir. Just signal me when you're ready." Then he turned and walked away.

With a private shake of his head, he turned back to find Jade regarding him with a hurt and curiously vulnerable expression. "What?" she said softly, "Have I developed the plague or something?"

"No, of course not," he replied.

"Well, then what is it? I've never known you to mind my advances before. In fact, you used to welcome them."

"Yes, I know . . ."

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, I'll grant you, but I can't say I expected this sort of reaction."

Race reached across the table and caught her hand, hanging onto it tightly when she tried to jerk it away. "Jade, this has nothing to do with you. Of course I'm glad to see you. I always am . . ." He paused, and then qualified it a bit. " . . . well, most of the time, anyway. No, this has to do with me, and things that are going on in my life right now. Your appearance just caught me off guard, that's all."

Jade carefully disengaged his fingers from her hand and laid them in her lap before looking at him and asking, "What kind of things?" A frown suddenly formed as she looked at him in concern. "You aren't in trouble, are you?"

Race relaxed, sitting back in his chair, and chuckled. "Well, I guess that depends on your definition of 'trouble'. You remember Estella Velasquez?"

Jade relaxed back in her chair as well, crossing her long legs gracefully. "Your ex-wife? Yes, I remember her. She giving you problems?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm marrying her again tomorrow." The silence that settled around them after that announcement was profound. Race watched the woman across the table as a range of emotions flickered across her face in rapid succession. Finally, in a curiously dead voice, she replied,

"Well, well. Isn't this a surprise? I suppose I should say 'congratulations'."

Race eyed her with an uncertain expression, surprised by her response. "I know this is unexpected, Jade, but I had hoped you would be happy for me."

Jade gazed at the white-haired man sitting across from her for a long moment before she responded, "Of course I'm happy for you, Race. What makes you think I'm not?"

Race returned her look evenly and replied, "Because I know you, Jade. I've known you for a long time. And I can tell that you're upset."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said, a trifle sharply. Then she laughed and relaxed back into her chair. "I will admit that you surprised me. I would have thought once was enough. You really must be a glutton for punishment."

Race frowned. "This isn't funny."

"Of course it is, darling!" That old, taunting tone was back in her voice . . . the one that used to just drive him to distraction. "I find it absolutely hilarious."

"Why?"

Jade eyed the man for a moment, disconcerted. Finally, she said, "You forget. I was around the last time everything went to hell."

"It's not going to go to hell this time."

"Of course it isn't, darling," she replied in that mocking tone. "This time everything is going to be absolutely perfect." She rose leisurely and stretched. Race was suddenly reminded of a cat. "Well, I should be on my way."

"Stick around," Race urged her, suddenly reluctant to see her leave. "We haven't talked in a long time, and I know Estella would be pleased to see you again."

Jade laughed once, a short, sharp sound that contained very little humor, and shook her head. "I very much doubt it. Your blushing bride-to-be doesn't like me very much. I think it's better for both of us if I'm good and far away from here before she arrives." Jade picked up her coat and shrugged into it as she continued, "It was pure chance that I saw you sitting in the window. I was here on business and was taking one final stroll through New York before heading to the airport to return home again. But, somehow, I don't think Estella would buy that."

Race looked at her with a frown, picking up on an undercurrent of something that he couldn't put his finger on . . . something she wasn't saying. In the end, he let the comment go. "Where's home these days, Jade?"

"Bangkok," she replied shortly as she buttoned her long, black leather coat.

"Still in Bangkok, huh? After your house was destroyed the last time we were there, I figured you had probably moved on."

"Whatever for? Business was good, and they never did pin anything on me for the theft of that artifact." She shrugged eloquently. "Things were still going well, so I stuck around." She reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and began to pull them on.

He leaned forward suddenly and with a strange urgency, said, "Don't you ever get tired of it all, Jade? Of having to watch your back all of the time? Of all of the wheeling and dealing? Don't you ever just want to call it quits?"

She eyed him for a moment, seemingly startled. Finally, she shook herself slightly and gave him that seductive, secretive smile. It occurred to him that it had been her sole legacy to him over more years than he cared to count. "Quit?" she said flippantly. "But, darling, what fun would that be? You have a nice life, lover boy." She turned and began to walk away, the sensuous sway of her gate even more pronounced than usual. As she opened the door, she looked back at him one last time. "You know how to find me . . . if you ever want to."

The door closed with a quiet finality and Race Bannon watched the black-hair woman dart across the busy street and disappear into the gathering darkness. He stared after her for a while, thinking about the many years he had known her, and yet how very little he actually knew.

Finally, he shook his head. No, Jade was a mystery and it was unlikely she would never change. Jade was Jade. It was the only thing you could say for certain. She was a free spirit . . . a wild thing that could never be pinned down. He supposed that for a long time it was her wildness that he found attractive. Not that it mattered now. The soft jingling of a bell cut through his reverie. He looked up to see Estella come through the door. Her face was flushed from the cold and her flaming red hair was wind blown. Across the room, their eyes met and she smiled. "Have a nice life, Jade," he murmured softly, and then put her out of his mind completely.

He rose as Estella approached and reached out to help her with her coat. She smiled again and started to say something as she turned to him, but he didn't give her a chance. Tossing her coat negligently onto the nearby chair, he took her in his arms and kissed her softly. Her warm, spicy fragrance filled his head and he drew her more tightly against him, allowing the kiss to become deeper and more demanding. Her arms circled him and she responded willingly. When he finally released her, she was flushed and breathless.

Laughing, she fanned herself a little and asked, "Well, what was that for?" They both sat down and he caught her hand. Turning it over, he kissed her palm.

"Because I felt like it."

"Like that? In such a public place?" Her tone may have sounded a bit scandalized, but her eyes told him that she wasn't upset by it. In fact, he could tell the openly sexual action excited her.

"I don't have a problem with the setting. Do you?"

She laughed again and replied, "I don't think I'm going to answer that on the grounds that it's liable to incriminate me." This time, their laughter was intimate and full of promise for later. Estella ran her fingers through her hair ruefully. "I must look a mess. The wind's starting to come up and I didn't have a hat."

"You look absolutely gorgeous." She shot him another look, and he could tell she was wondering about his mood. Smiling at her again, he asked, "How did your afternoon go? Any problems?"

"None at all. We got to the airport in plenty of time for Rajeev to make his plane. I did go in with him and walked him to his gate. He'd only been in JFK the one time and I figured it was the least I could do. It's one of the reasons I'm so late . . . I got to the dress shop later than I'd planned. I have to say, that is one heck of a dress your daughter picked out for me. And they did have to do a few minor alternations, so I had to wait until they finished. Have you been here long?"

He shook his head. "No, not long." Race caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over just in time to see the waiter come out of the kitchen. The man's abrupt double take made Race grin in amusement.

Estella looked at him, puzzled, then looked over her shoulder at the waiter. "What?"

Race shook his head, still smiling, and said, "Nothing. Are you ready for something to eat? I'm starved." She nodded and Race signaled the waiter. The man practically ran across the room. As Estella perused the menu, the man gave her the same serious assessment that he had given Jade. This time he saw a tall, stately redhead with deep emerald eyes and matte white skin. She had changed from her copper-colored jump suit of that morning into a caramel brown dress of a soft knitted fabric that clung to her curves enticingly. A soft, unconscious smile lit her face . . . a smile that Race had learned many years before reflected the way she was feeling. Right now, this woman was happy. She looked up and smiled at the waiter warmly.

"I'll have the shrimp marinara and a glass of red wine."

The waiter smiled back at her, looking a bit dazed, and then turned a glassy look on Race. "And for the gentleman?"

"Lasagna and a salad with house dressing. Coffee to drink."

The man made a note on his pad and began to turn away. Abruptly, he stopped and looked back at Race. "A good choice, sir, if I may say so. I commend you for your taste." Then he walked away quickly.

Estella stared after the man, mystified. "Well, that was strange. Is the lasagna that good?"

Race laughed softly and, leaning forward, he caught her hand again. "He wasn't talking about the food."

"He wasn't?" she said in confusion. "Then what . . ." Suddenly, she stopped and he saw her blush. "Oh."

He chuckled again and kissed her fingers gently, before leaning back in his chair once more. "Actually, I ran into an old friend while I was waiting for you . . . or to be more precise, she ran into me."

"Oh, really?" she replied, seemingly relieved to get away from the prior topic. "Who was that?"

"Jade Kenyon." Estella froze, her water glass halfway to her lips.

"Jade?" Carefully, she set the glass back down on the table and looked at him with a suddenly shuttered expression, the happy smile gone. "What was she doing here?"

Race shrugged. "In town on business, she said. She didn't offer any details and I didn't ask." He looked at her more closely and then sat forward in concern. "Estella, what is it? What's wrong?"

She turned away blindly, bowing her head to hide her face from him. "Nothing . . . nothing at all. I'm fine. I think I need to use the bathroom."

But before she could rise, he caught her hand and said, "No, that's not true. You're upset. Tell me what's wrong." He reached out with his other hand and caressed her cheek gently. She tugged ineffectually, trying to free her hand from his grasp. "Stel, look at me." He shifted his fingers and tilted her chin up until she had to meet his eyes. He saw unshed tears reflected there. "What?" Then, with sudden clarity he knew, and he said incredulously, "Jade?"

She swallowed with difficulty and in a small voice she said, "Your past is coming back to haunt me a lot recently."

"Oh God, Estella, you've never had anything to fear from Jade." He brought the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it again. "I promise you."

Estella slid her hand from his and tucked them in her lap. "Race, I know . . . "

"Know what?" he asked, confused.

"That you almost married her."

The look he gave her was astonished. "Married her? I'd never marry Jade . . . the idea's never even entered my head. Any man that would marry her would have to be crazy . . . or have a death wish. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Jessie told me."

Race leaned back in his chair and stared at her dumbfounded. "Our daughter told you that I almost married Jade? Where the hell did she get that idea?"

"Jade told her . . . said that she was almost Jessie's step-mother."

For a long moment, Race simply sat gazing at the beautiful redhead blankly.

Estella took a deep breath and said, "It's okay, Race. I can deal with . . ."

"No! No, it's not okay." He sat forward and reached across the table. Cupping the back of her neck, he caressed her cheek with his thumb and stared directly into her eyes. "I swear to you, Estella. There has only been one woman in my entire life that I've cared enough about to consider marrying, and that woman is you. Nothing will ever change that. Jade is a friend and former co-worker . . . nothing else. And believe me, the next time I see her . . . if I ever see her again . . . we will have a few words about that rumor!"

After a moment, she gave him a shaky smile and, catching his hand, she drew it to her and caressed the back of it with her cheek. "I love you so much," she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.

"And I love you." He leaned forward over the table, and catching her by the nape of her neck again, he drew her forward and kissed her. A discreet cough caused them break the kiss, and the waiter said diffidently,

"Your dinner . . . "

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Some time later, Estella looked at Race in the intermittent lights of oncoming traffic and said, "You never told me what Leeds had to say." She saw him frown.

"I don't quite know what to make of it. I'm not sure 'spooked' is even an adequate term to describe it. Those people are scared."

"It has you worried." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes. Enough so that I called Benton and had him go to a full boat, level three security lockdown on the Compound." He shook his head. "Leeds implied that someone in the government is beginning to feel that Benton may be too great of a security risk."

"What does that mean?"

He looked over at her. There was a time when he wouldn't have answered that question, but he wouldn't lie to her any longer. "It means that someone in the intelligence community is considering putting a contract out on Benton Quest's life . . . probably a sanctioned hit."

Estella stared at him in shock. "You . . . you mean, they would deliberately murder him?"

"Yes." He licked his lips, tasting the bile that was rising in his throat. "Oh, they would justify it by saying that it was for the overall better good, but it would be murder, just the same." He flipped on his turn signal and took the off ramp into LaGuardia Airport, following the signs that directed him to the private hangars not far from the Marine Air Terminal. As they idled, waiting for traffic to clear so they could make a left into the private hangar complex, he glanced over at her. She was huddled back against the car door as far from him as she could get, hugging her coat around her tightly. Her eyes were huge in the dim light.

"Did you . . ." She stopped and swallowed, as though not wanting to ask the question. Finally, she said, "Did you . . . ever . . . "

"No," he said flatly. He glanced at her again. She hadn't moved. It was darker here, but she could still see the look of betrayal on his face as he looked at her. "I've killed, Estella. I won't lie to you about that. But only in self-defense or in defense of someone I was assigned to protect. I've never committed cold-blooded murder." He turned to stare out the front window again. "I never sank quite that low." After a moment, he added bitterly, "No matter what you may think."

"No, no of course not, I-I'm sorry . . ."

"Forget it," he said shortly. He completed the turn and drove across the open tarmac in silence.

After a few minutes, Estella asked hesitantly, "Could Jade's sudden appearance be tied to this in some way?"

"No."

Race reached forward and pressed a button on the dashboard in front of him. Up ahead of them, a door on one of the hangars began to slide open. Race slowed, giving the doors time to open fully, and then drove the car inside. He turned off the motor, and pressed a second switch on the dashboard. Nothing happened. He swore irritably in the dark. "What the hell has happened to the hangar lights? Shit." He snatched the keys out of the ignition with another curse and fumbled in the dark, searching for the one that would open the locked panel on the wall by the door. Finding the appropriate key, he yanked viciously on the car door handle and shoved the door open. "Stay here," he snapped. Estella twisted around to watch his shadow move toward the control panel near the main hangar door.

Suddenly, against the lighter darkness of the large bay door, she saw a stealthy shape move out of the deeper shadows of the interior of the hangar. Even in the dark, the shape of the submachine gun was distinctive. For a fraction of a second, Estella froze, hardly able to believe her eyes. Then she screamed his name wildly in a high, shrill voice and tried to hurtle herself across the seat toward the open door. In that instant, World War III seemed to erupt in the confines of that enclosed space. Voices yelled wildly and the sound of gunfire filled the air. Bullets ripped into the car, shattering the windows and whining off the metal. Estella threw herself down on the seat and rolled, hitting the floorboards with a force that drove the wind out of her. In the darkness, she clawed desperately under the car seat, knowing that Race always kept a weapon under there for emergencies. Her hand closed on something metal and she clutched at it frantically. In the hangar, a new sound was suddenly heard . . . the high, popping whine of a laser pistol. For a brief instant, relief flooded her as she realized that Race was still alive and armed.

Suddenly, a black shape rose up in the open car door. A hand reached down, grabbed her viciously by the hair, and hauled her out of the car. She cried out in pain, struggling desperately as the stranger dragged her over the doorsill and out onto the hangar floor.

In the darkness, the red light of a targeting sight lit up on her chest. "I'll kill her, Bannon. I swear I will. Throw the gun out here and come out. NOW." Estella kicked out at her assailant viciously, catching him across the shins, but her straight skirt and lack of good leverage prevented her from getting much force behind the blow. The man swore at her, yanked her violently to her feet by her hair, and pulled her against him tightly with a strong arm around her shoulders. "You're a hellion, aren't you?" he hissed in her ear. "I like ones that fight. Hold still now or you'll wish you were dead long before I decide kill you. You understand me?" The man turned his head and raised his voice, calling out again, "Are you coming out, Bannon, or do I put a slug right between her pretty green eyes?" Estella fumbled in the dark, searching desperately for the safety on the gun she still clung to.

Suddenly, her thumb found it and with a smooth, silent action it clicked off just as Race's voice called out, "Alright. You win. I'll come out." She spared only the briefest instant to pray that the gun was loaded. Then she stomped down hard on her assailant's foot, and thrust an elbow sharply into his midsection. With a pained gasp, his grip on her loosened and she twisted around sharply. She grasped the gun in both hands, thrust it against his body and pulled the trigger.

The explosion seemed to deafen her. As if from some distance, she heard the man cry out and she could feel him stumble away from her. Wild shots erupted in the hangar again, and she dropped to her knees, still clutching the gun. After a minute she forced herself to move, and she crawled around to the front of the car, where she hunched down, shivering. A few more wild shots, and then everything was silent. She stayed where she was, unsure whether the silence was due to it being over or if her hearing was totally gone. Then, from the darkness, his voice came.

"Estella, are you there?" The sound released a cascade of emotions in her, and she began to tremble violently. "Estella??" This time she heard fear.

It took her two tries. "Here," she finally managed.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" Fear, stronger this time.

Was she? She hadn't processed that far yet. "I . . . I don't know . . ."

"Stay there. Don't move." Raw fear now, and an edge of panic.

Telltale small sounds told her that he was moving. She did as he told her, staying hunched on the floor, her ears straining for the slightest hint of a sound. She still clutched the gun in a deathgrip and she shook as though chilled through. And suddenly there was light . . .

They flared to life with no warning, and Estella cried out in pain, shielding her eyes from the sudden, blinding glare. Then he was there, taking the gun from her gently and pulling her to her feet to hold her against him tightly. She clung to him, convinced she was going to shake apart. After a moment, his grip eased and he looked down at her in concern. "Are you hurt, Stel? " Slowly, she shook her head. "You're sure?"

She stepped back unsteadily, assessing how she felt. "Y-yes, I t-think I'm okay." She raised her arm to put a shaky hand to her head, and only then noticed the blood on her arm. "On the other hand . . . " She rubbed the top of her head and when she looked at her hand, it was covered with blood, as well. "I think I may have lost some hair," she said irrelevantly. She put her hand to her head again and winced. "Damn, that hurts."

Muttering a string of profanity, he reached for her arm, but she laid her hand against his chest and reassured him, "No, it's not bad. Doesn't really even hurt much."

"Yet," he replied. He reached out and tilted her head forward gently to look at it. Then he shook his head. "We need a towel. I don't think any of it's too bad, but I can't tell for sure. You wait here. I'll be right back." As she watched him cross the brightly lit hangar, she pressed her arm against her stomach. It was still bleeding and it occurred to her offhandedly that her dress was probably ruined. A sudden fear gripped her and she called out to him frantically,

"Race!" He spun, bringing the laser pistol he still held up sharply. "Close that door. Please, close it. They could shoot you from the dark and we'd never see it coming!"

"Good thought." He crossed to the control panel, which was now standing open, and flipped a switch. Ponderously, the large door began to slide shut. They both stood silently, watching it until, with a final clang, it closed securely.

As Race went searching for a towel, Estella looked around the hangar numbly. The car looked to be a total loss. All four tires were flat, there wasn't an intact piece of glass in it, and the body was riddled with bullet holes. Looking at it, she was dully amazed that she was still alive. The plane in the hangar was actually one of the large cargo planes the Quests used for transporting equipment. The family jet was housed in the smaller hangar next door, which was a good thing, because she didn't think this one was going to fly anytime soon.

Then her eyes fell on the body in the middle of the floor. Unsteadily, she crossed over to stand, staring down at her assailant. He had been a big, muscular man with a swarthy face and dark hair. He had a scar along one eyebrow, the earlobe of his left ear was missing, and he had a tattoo of a dragon across the back of one hand. There was also a very large, bloody hole right in the middle of his body. She stumbled back, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from getting sick. Race was suddenly back, guiding her away from the dead man. He pressed a clean white towel to the top of her head and led her across the hangar until the dead man was no longer visible.

"I did that," she whispered raggedly.

"You had no choice. We both would have been dead if you hadn't." He led her into a small room off the main hangar and sat her down in a desk chair. He cleaned up her head gently and put a makeshift bandage on her arm, telling her the damage was minor, and then ran his hands over every inch of her to reassure himself that she had suffered no other injuries. Other than minor cuts and bruises, she appeared to have survived. It was only after he finished, that he told her not to move and went back out into the hangar. She sat motionless for about five minutes, thinking of nothing at all. But eventually, the inactivity finally began to grate and she stirred. Looking around with a bit more awareness, she found that she was in a medium-sized office of some sort. Sitting to one side on the desk were two pictures in a hinged frame. The first was a relatively new picture of Jessie and Jonny. Jessie's head was tucked up under Jonny's chin, lying on his chest, and the two of them were smiling directly into the camera. The other was a picture of her. It was an old picture, taken at the Embassy in Paris the night she had met him. She was dressed in an elegantly simple white gown and the picture had captured her in an unguarded moment as she descended the grand staircase into the ballroom. She didn't even remember it being taken. She looked very young.

Estella looked up as he came back in, the pictures still in her hand. He walked over and took them from her gently and set them back on the desk.

"Where did that come from?" she asked curiously. "They never allowed photographers in the embassy at functions like that."

He looked at her and a smile played at the corner of his lips. "I pilfered it from the security surveillance footage of the function that night. One of my buddies at I-1 began ribbing me about the beautiful redhead I'd abandoned my post for, and when I demanded to know how he knew about that, he showed me the surveillance tapes. I used company equipment to create a still and printed it."

"And you kept it all these years."

"Yes."

She absorbed that thoughtfully. Then she looked up and smiled at him tentatively. He smiled back, caressed her cheek gently and then sighed.

"I hate to say it, darling, but I'm afraid this is going to be a long night and we're not going to get home any time too soon."

"Have you called the police?"

He nodded. "Just did. They'll be here before long. And airport security is checking out the other hangar to make sure they didn't get in there. Looks like they were waiting here for us, knowing that we'd come here first to put the car away."

"They've been watching us, then."

"Looks like it."

"Any idea who they are?"

"Not yet."

She sighed wearily. "You know, they could have at least waited until after tomorrow."

A sharp knocking sound came from the other room. "Stay here," he commanded, and disappeared back out into the hangar. A few seconds later, he returned and reached a hand down to pull her to her feet. "The other hangar and the jet are clear. They didn't get in there at all. Come on. I'm going to take you over there and you can lie down on the plane and rest while I deal with the cops."

She gave him a small, twisted smile. "Cleaning up the mess after I killed somebody again. Why do I have a sense of déjà vu?"

"A small price to pay to have you in my life, I assure you." And then he led her away from the carnage and death.