Chapter 10

A/N Thanks to all of you who wrote, even privately, to give me specifics. Specifics in reviews help so much more than "Please write more." This is a long chapter, but I had to update all the subplots!

30 MARCH 2003

0510 ZULU

NJ Turnpike

Francesca Peretti sighs as she watches Alex swig McDonald's coffee from a Styrofoam cup. "Are you getting too tired to drive?" she purrs.

"No. I'm fine. You need to sleep though. You have a meeting in nine hours. I have tomorrow to sleep." Alex replies as he pats her left hand as it rests on the center console. Glancing at her to gauge her reaction, he leaves his hand covering hers.

Francesca stares out the window as they pass the rolling hills of the central Jersey suburbs. She likes the warmth of his hand as it covers hers. The action suggests a protectiveness that she is unaccustomed to and one which she's beginning to like. She reflects on the embassy dinner of the earlier evening. She thinks of the strange balance of Alex's formality combined with his obvious warmth and devotion. She wonders how much of it is Russian courting mode and how much of it is Alex. She finds herself hoping that it is the latter. She's only known him for four days and yet it seems like so many more. She likes his easy manner with her. He's attentive without being overbearing. Tonight when he held her in his arms to dance, he was so proper and formal; when their eyes would meet while dancing, his suggested intrigue and danger. She thinks of what it will be like to peel back the layers and peer into his soul. Slow down, she thinks instinctively, you barely know him - and he's Russian. Who would be more careful of Russians than her father and yet at lunch, Alex's charm disarmed even A.J. She smiled as she thought of her father's parting words whispered in her ear as she left JAG headquarters after lunch, "Careful, sweetheart, he's the real deal." For a father as protective as hers, those words were both teasing and prophetic.

"Is there a reason that you're smiling, Francesca?" Alex questions softly.

"I'm thinking about today and all the things we've done. It's been such a full day!" Francesca reflects.

"Does that mean you consider it a good day?" he asks hopefully.

"It was a day of emotions. I'm worried about Harm and Mac. You made me laugh at lunch with my father. The dinner at the embassy was thrilling, and now you're driving through the night to deliver me to my apartment in New York. I've never crammed so much into a day, Alex."

"Well, that was yesterday. Today we'll do even greater things!" Alex laughs.

"Alex, I want you to stay at my apartment. You can sleep while I'm at work. I'll be back in the early afternoon. Then I will take you to see the city, or, if you're too tired, I can cook dinner for the two of us," she suggests.

"Are you giving me the choice?" He wonders.

"Yes."

"I want you to cook," he exhales. Alex stares at the black ribbon of road ahead of him, hoping that he has not betrayed how thrilling the thought of Francesca cooking for him is. As his mind ponders the "will she wear an apron?" question, he forces himself to focus. "Of course, I could take you out, if you're too tired to cook," he offers while his mind screams for the intimacy of dinner at home.

"I'm Italian. Cooking is in our blood. Do you prefer pasta or fish?"

"Both. Whatever. Surprise me." Alex found his voice again. "I'm not very good in the kitchen, but I do love to eat, so I bow to your culinary prowess."

"My mother is an excellent cook. My father still fantasizes about her cooking, I think."

"Does it bother you that they divorced?"

"It happened so long ago that I don't remember them being together. Now that I know them both as adults and I view them through adult eyes, I'm surprised it happened. I don't think my father was able to communicate as well then and my mother needed to know what was going on inside his head. He came back from Vietnam with terrible memories that he kept bottled up inside. I know that they loved each other passionately. She kept a box of things from their life together in the storage room of our villa. I sneaked in there as a teen-ager and read his letters to her and looked at the photos. She caught me and we had a terrible fight. I asked her why she could leave a man who loved her so passionately and settle for my step- father. She slapped me across the face but never answered me."

"Do you have a theory?"

"I think that in a cross-cultural marriage, there are difficulties, communication barriers. Sometimes it's easier to have less passion and more predictability. That's what she got with my step-father, the stereotypical Italian man."

"Which is?"

"Handsome, charming, and unfaithful."

"Are you serious?"

"He's had affairs for years. She knows it. Italian men don't divorce their wives for their mistresses. They would lose their standing in the church."

"But your mother was divorced."

"But both families had connections. Her first marriage was annulled. I assumed my step-father's name. A.J. Chegwidden's existence was annulled. I always wondered what that made me."

"So you had no contact with him as a child?"

"Ha! You've met him. Do you think he could be "annulled"? He came to see me every year. My mother and I would spend two weeks with him somewhere, usually in Italy, but wherever seemed to be a convenient spot. They were magical times. So many times, I would go to bed and pretend to sleep, only to get up and peek at them. I have so many memories of them sitting across the table from each other, sipping wine, talking. When I was older, they would occasionally leave me and go for long walks. They don't know it, but I saw them holding hands and kissing on more than one occasion. I don't think that they ever got over each other."

"So, do you approve of his relationship with Meredith?"

"My mother has had my step-father for all these years. Who is she to deny my father companionship? We haven't had the family vacations since I was eighteen. How long was he supposed to wait for her? When I was kidnapped, she had the perfect opportunity to reconcile with him, but she didn't. I think he knew then that he couldn't wait for the scraps that she threw him."

"You don't paint a flattering picture of your mother."

"Wait until you meet her. She's a spitfire. She could not control my father; that scared her."

"If your step-father is unfaithful, then she also does not control him, does she?"

"Alex, you assume that it bothers her that my step-father cheats. I think he cheats with her blessing. He provides her with a comfortable lifestyle. He is discreet. She has an escort. She's happy with perfunctory wifely duties and leaves him to get the rest elsewhere. You'll have to watch them in action to see how it plays out."

"Does that mean you plan for me to meet them?"

"It depends how long you stick around."

"Russians have great staying power."

"Communism lasted less than seventy-five years. The Italians have been around since before Christ."

"Give me a chance, Francesca."

"What kind of chance?"

"A chance to love you like you've never been loved." Alex sucks in his breath when he realizes what he has just said.

Francesca ponders his comment and responds by turning her hand palm up and intertwining her fingers in his. She brings the back of his hand to her lips and softly kisses it.

0530 ZULU

Northern Scotland

Harm tosses his suitcase on to the couch in the huge bedroom. He glances at the brocade bedspread on the poster bed and tests the firmness of the mattress with both hands. He glances at his watch and begins to remove it from his wrist, placing it on the bedside table. He hears water running in the adjoining bathroom as Mac walks out wearing a short fuchsia chemise and brushing her teeth.

"Wow!" he moans.

Mac holds up her index finger, walks into the bathroom, and spits. "Wow, what?" she calls.

"I'm thinking about how many toothbrushes or tubes of toothpaste the world would buy if you were an advertisement for either one.

"You don't like the way I brush my teeth?" she teases.

"Sarah, I want to watch you brush your teeth forever. You are so beautiful."

Mac crosses the room and wraps her arms around him, tilts her head back, and looks up at him. "We have a whole week of being alone with no responsibilities. How'd we get so lucky?"

"That's easy. I was so unlucky and stupid for seven years that I built up luck points. We're living on savings." He leans down to kiss her. "Sarah, are you hungry? I was about to ask you if you wanted something to eat or drink when you walked out in that nightgown and took my breath away."

"Really? I took your breath away?"

"Heart stopping."

"So your heart stopped and you couldn't breathe?"

He nods.

"I guess I need to perform CPR."

"Should I lie down for that?"

"Assume the position, flyboy."

She pushes him gently. As he falls back on the bed, he pulls her to him. "Happy honeymoon," he murmurs between her kisses.

0800 ZULU

Mac untangles herself from Harm's sleeping grasp and reaches for her robe. Tying the belt, she shuffles into her scuffs and enters the bathroom. A few minutes later she leaves the bathroom and wanders out of the bedroom, down the hall, and down the stairs. She begins exploring the manor's first floor. She enters a large two story library and begins to scan the shelves. She pauses to look out the window and stares at the water of the North Sea.

"Penny for your thoughts." Harm's voice nuzzles her neck as he wraps his arms around her waist."

"I'm thinking that I have the sea, a room full of books, and you - the perfect honeymoon."

"Are you telling me that you're going to read on our honeymoon?"

"I have to do something while you cook. Why? What do you want to do?"

"I want to walk on those rocks and watch the tide come in. I want to watch the sun come up and watch it set. I want to show you that you are the only woman for me, the only was there ever has been, and the only one there ever will be."

"Get out of here. If something every happened to me, you'd find someone else in a heartbeat."

"Don't say that, Mac. Please don't ever say that. We've had too many close calls with death. Look at me when I tell you this: I am alive when I am with you. You complete me. I"ve never felt this way with any other woman." Harm tenderly kisses her lips and holds her in his arms.

"Harm?"

"Hmm?"

"We got in really late last night. I haven't had much sleep and I need a shower. Most importantly, I need food. Do you think we can find the kitchen and see what they have?"

"I believe the Scots eat lots of oatmeal," Harm grins as he unwraps one arm and begins to leave the window. Mac keeps one arm wrapped around his waist as they walk together to the kitchen, Harm wearing his boxer shorts and Mac wearing a robe and slippers.

"Harm, do you think you should put some clothes on, in case someone comes?"

Harm looks down and says, "I have underwear on."

Mac giggles, "Yes, but what if a deliveryman shows up, or one of Webb's friends?"

"You think it might be a woman?"

"No, well, I don't know, what difference does that make?"

"Mac, I walked around in front of thousands of guys at the Academy wearing nothing but underwear, so I don't really care if some guy shows up. I'm on my honeymoon, with my wife, and, quite frankly, if I want to cook naked, that's none of anyone's business but ours."

"You might burn yourself."

"And you may be in for some after breakfast kitchen maneuvers with the Navy."

"In the kitchen?"

"I intend to christen every room in this house."

"You'd better feed me first."

Harm opens the refrigerator and takes out eggs, cheese, peppers and, tomatoes. "How does an omelet sound?"

"Yummy. Is there any juice?"

Harm peeks in the refrigerator. "This looks like orange juice. See if you can find a coffee maker and make some coffee, okay?"

Mac searches the kitchen and finds a coffee pot. "Do you know how make coffee in this?"

Harm laughs, "I think I remember the days before coffee makers. Fill it with water, and then scoop the coffee into the basket part. Here, let me do it. Mac, are you always going to be a Marine?"

"As opposed to being a Squid?"

"No, you went into the Corps at eighteen. I mean, in a few years, you'll have your twenty years in, and you could retire."

"And so could you."

"You're right. I could. I just was thinking out loud."

"Harm, you, of all people, knew who and what you were marrying. I can't believe you're trying to change me!" Mac rants.

"Whoa! I'm not trying to change you. I was just trying to see when I could find time to send you to some cooking lessons so you can make coffee!" Harm laughs.

Mac pauses and stares at him before she lunges at him and he runs from her. She catches him and grasps him in a wrestling hold when he says, "Mac?"

"Say 'Uncle'"

"Honey?"

"Surrender, flyboy, or I'm going to put you down."

"Darling, your omelet's going to burn." Mac immediately releases her hold and Harm runs back to the stove. "I knew I'd win. I know your one weakness - food."

"Actually, I have two weaknesses."

"And the second is"

"Harmon Rabb, Jr." she smiles.

"Well, you'll never run out of him. You just won the lifetime supply, all the smart alec comments, action, and adventure you can stand."

"I love you, Harm." Mac answers. She turns and sets the table. Returning to the stove, she pats Harm's behind while removing the percolating coffee pot from the burner. She carries it to the table, fills two cups, and carries one to Harm as he flips the omelet. They stand together, sipping coffee, reveling in the nearness of each other. Harm removes the skillet from the stove and expertly slides the omelet from the pan to a platter. He hands to platter to Mac who balances it while carrying a pitcher of orange juice to the table. Harm reaches into the refrigerator, removes a carton of plain yogurt and grabs a banana on the way past the counter. The two settle at the table and look at each other before eating.

"Wow, our first married breakfast." Mac muses.

"Mac, Webb fed us breakfast in the car on Sunday. Yesterday we ate breakfast courtesy of Virgin Airways on the plane. This is our third breakfast."

"But this one is a real breakfast. Those others don't count."

"There's logic in there somewhere, but if you say so, this one counts for real."

"This almost seems sacred. Do you think we should pray or something?"

Harm smiles at his wife, takes her hand in his and bows his head. "God, thank you for this life and for this wife. May I always honor both as gifts from You. Amen."

Harm releases her hand and begins to peel his banana when he notices that Mac is staring at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You're just so wonderful!" she sniffs.

"Mac? Why are you crying?"

"I'm so happy."

"But you're a Marine. Marines don't cry over breakfast. Say, you don't think you have some extra hormones raging or something, do you?"

"Harm, you're ruining the moment, " Mac glares.

"Sarah, I love you, but if you go emotional on me and quit eating, you're not going to have any strength for this afternoon."

"What are we doing this afternoon?"

"Hiking."

"Hiking?"

"I have to get outside, smell the salt air, and look at the sky"

"It looks like rain to me."

"So we'll walk, smell the air, get wet, come back here and make love in front of the fire."

Mac raises her eyebrows and digs into her omelet.

1800 ZULU

CIA Headquarters Washington, D.C.

Office of Clayton Webb

Elizabeth Perkins sits on a leather wing chair as Webb paces about his office with a microphone in his hand.

"For the aforementioned reasons given by Miss Perkins and myself, our current belief is that Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie are being held by a cell sympathetic to the Islamic Jihad. Most sources indicate that they have not left U.S. soil but rather are being held in a remote safe house, probably to be used in a prisoner exchange with us for some individuals being held at Guantonomo Bay. Do you have anything to add, Miss Perkins?"

"No." Elizabeth sits writing on a pad.

"This is Field Agent Clayton Webb's debriefing of March 30, 2003.

He switches the microphone off.

"That about wraps things up for the day, Elizabeth."

"It sure does, Clay. I may be a few minutes late in the morning. I have a dentist's appointment at 7:15. It's the first one of the day, but you never know what will happen." She holds up the pad with the words, "Dinner tonight at 6?"

Clay nods and mouths the words, "At my mother's" and then speaks audibly. "That's fine. You can always work through lunch. By the way, thanks for being willing to be my date for the wedding Saturday. You put on such a good act. You'll make an excellent foreign agent one day, Elizabeth.

"Thanks. I'm just learning from the master, sir." She winks at him as he puckers and blows a kiss to her.

Down the hall, another CIA agent codenamed Raven listens to each word said by Webb. Raven motions to another agent in the room to sit down. Hearing the door of Webb's office close, Raven questions the other agent, "Do you think it was possible that their appearance on Saturday was a ruse?"

"I believed it. He looked at her with such intensity. Commander Rabb was teasing him about it at one point, so I think he believes it to be true."

"But Clayton Webb can be very cloak and dagger. He's been very, shall we say, successful with women, even women agents. He seduces them and then kills them. There's still that comment she made to him on the cell phone when those bumbling Syrians had Rabb before the wedding. I'll tell you what. I want Elizabeth Perkins followed tonight when she leaves work. Have Joe Ford follow Webb as well. Wait, Webb's calling someone. Let's listen in."

The tones of a phone dialing are heard. "Webb Residence."

"Niles, this is Clayton. Is my mother available, please?"

"Sir, she's attending a benefit luncheon for the Art Museum. I don't expect her until after three."

"She did mention that to me. I forgot. Would you please let her know that I will be joining her for dinner this evening?"

"Only you, sir?"

"Dinner for two, Niles. I plan to spend the night and drive back to town in the morning.

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, Niles."

Webb smiled as he hung up the phone.

Raven clicked the speaker off. "That man has the strangest relationship with his mother."

"They are very close. She used to be an agent, I heard."

"He sees more of her than any other woman."

"Perhaps Webb is gay?"

"If he is, he's an excellent heterosexual impersonator. I've seen him in action."

"Seen? I thought the Company limited its surveillance to listening."

"I've seen and heard. Back to Miss Perkins. See what she does with her free time."

"She gave up her apartment a month ago. She's living with her parents in Fairfax."

"Why would she do that? Follow her. Stay outside that house until tomorrow morning"

"Will do. You'll have my report in the morning. Do you still want Webb watched?"

"Just a drive by in case he leaves."

Clayton Webb snaps his briefcase closed after filling it with four cell phones. He stops at the receptionist's desk and tells her that he'll be at JAG headquarters for the rest of the afternoon. He exits the building, lowers himself into his BMW, nods at the guard at the gate, and aims his car toward Falls Church.

1900 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Tiner buzzes Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. "Admiral, Mr. Webb is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in, Tiner."

Webb strides into the office and flops into the chair opposite the Admiral.

"Well?"

Webb answers, "Well, what?"

"You interrupted me. You must have something on your mind."

"Oh, the Rabbs are safe in Scotland. They are settled into an old manor house, doing whatever it is that married people do."

"Having never been married, I wouldn't guess that you'd have a clue, Webb."

"Sorry, AJ, I forgot that you're about to take the plunge, again."

"Can't have too much of a good thing, my friend."

"So my mother tells me."

"Did you have something else on your mind? You could have called me to tell me that the Rabbs were safe."

"No, I couldn't. My office is bugged."

"What? By whom?"

"Someone within the Company. That's who's behind this whole kidnapping of Rabb at the paint ball game. I think it's who placed the bomb in their hotel room too."

"Syrians were who kidnapped Rabb."

"Never get your hands dirty if you can get someone else to do it. That was a put up job. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if those two terrorists disappear before they can incriminate anyone."

"Why do you think it's someone within the CIA? Is it a double agent?"

"Possibly. I have it narrowed down to about five people, all agents at my same level."

"Webb, do you think that Miss Perkins is possibly involved?"

Webb laughs at the question, "Why would you think that?"

"Well, she's come on the scene fairly recently and that's when all this trouble started."

"You're off base, Admiral."

"Hear me out. She's very capable and bright. Maybe she's double crossing you."

"Can I be honest with you, Admiral?"

"Certainly."

"She's in love with me."

"So maybe she's one of those obsessed women."

"She is obsessed. I return the obsession. I'm in love with her."

"Really? Webb, this is the first I've known you to be involved with a woman."

"I fought against it. My life is so dangerous. How can I involve someone in it? I've tried to stay away from her but I can't. She came to South America two months ago on an assignment. We ended up stranded in some remote village with no electricity for a week. There were no phones. We had to wait for the weekly mail plane to get us out. Missionaries picked us up, so we had to pretend that we were married. We stayed with them and one thing led to another. I was removed from my life and all its responsibilities and was left with nothing except this incredibly beautiful woman who shares my interests. We played chess one afternoon, just to pass the time and I couldn't stop looking at her fingers as she moved the chess pieces."

"Clay, should you be telling me this?"

"I don't know who to talk to. When we got back, I had her move from her apartment back to her parents. She has a better cover. We have to sneak to meet."

"Why?"

"Whoever is going after Harm will kill Betsy if he finds out that she's my, my"

"Lover?"

"Lover seems an inadequate term, AJ. I'm going to ask her to quit the Company tonight. I can't keep risking her career and her life."

"What are you offering her in its place?"

"Marriage."

"What? Mr. Marriage Scoffer is proposing marriage?"

"That's what my father did. My mother is still alive, although my father is dead. I want her to live even if I don't. My father married my mother to get her out of the Company."

"Clay, I happen to know that your mother still"

Webb interrupts. "I know. She will still be safer, even if she "helps out" as my mother has done."

"Well, what can I do to help you, Webb?"

"I'll be coming here often, so that I can use the phone, etc. It'll be under the guise that we're comparing notes on Rabb. It'll only be a couple of more days. When I leave on Saturday, I'm taking Betsy with me to Scotland and then on to Iraq. I'm pretty confident of the security there, so I think Betsy will be safe."

"What about your mother? Is she safe?"

Webb laughs. "Let the Company try to go after my mother. She's got more access than the Director. I'm setting a trap for whoever is after me. Could you send someone over to this address tonight to write down some license plate numbers?"

Webb hands the Admiral the address.

"Who's house is this?" the Admiral asks.

"Wayne and Eleanor Perkins, Betsy's parents."

"One person?"

"Actually, it would be better if you staged drive bys with different people. Keep track of the vehicles and who's in them."

"How many people can I involve?"

"Keep it to a small number. I'll come by tomorrow for your report."

"I think I can handle this one for you, Clay. Good luck tonight."

"I'll probably need it."

Admiral Chegwidden yelled for Tiner.

"Get me Gunny, Lt. Roberts, Lt. Sims, Commander Sturgis, and Petty Officer Coates. Then you join us."

Within a few minutes, the Admiral had assembled his team.

"People, we are going on a little fishing expedition in Fairfax tonight. Our part will be a fact finding mission, but it could affect the locating of Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie. Now here's what we're going to do."

2130 ZULU

CIA HEADQUARTERS

"Early quit tonight, Elizabeth?" Shelly, the receptionist asks.

"I was in at 6:30 this morning, and I'm beat. I'm going home, taking a bath, and climbing into bed."

"I'm right behind you, Elizabeth! Only I can't leave until 5," Shelly laughs.

"Good night," Elizabeth calls as she breezes out the door to the parking lot.

Shelly looks up to see Agent John Bell leaving. She sniffs at his exit, thinking that Elizabeth Perkins had just worked a ten hour day, even taking lunch at her desk. Bell had never in his life worked a ten hour day, yet he was leaving early. Inexplicably, Bell was the golden boy of the junior agents. That is the way these office politics work, she thinks, dismissing the odd exit as laziness on the part of a junior agent.

2200 ZULU

Fairfax, Virginia Street outside the Perkins Home

Elizabeth Perkins eases her Saab into the driveway of her home. She gets out, stretches, and reaches into the back seat to retrieve her brief case. She closes the car door and walks toward the house. A red Ford Taurus driven by Agent John Bell, disguised by wearing a gray wig and glasses, passes by and turns at the next intersection. Elizabeth senses the fact that she's been followed, but is unsure of the location of the eyes upon her. Nevertheless, she reasons, Clay warned her of this and she knows what she must do. Muffin, her golden retriever, greets her at the door and she meanders into the kitchen where her mother is preparing dinner.

"Hi, honey, you're home early. Dinner will be ready at six."

"Mom, I won't be here, but we'll be putting our plan into action. Where's Dad?"

"He'll be home in twenty minutes. He just called from his cell."

"What do you have that I can take into the dining room? I need to put on a show."

"The salad is ready."

Elizabeth takes the salad into the dining room and makes no effort to conceal her actions from the windows facing the street. She sits with her profile to the window and deliberately stabs at her salad while reading the newspaper.

Bell watches her from the back seat of the Taurus which is now parked diagonally across the street. He wonders if she's only going to eat a salad. That must be why she's so fit, he thinks, as he reaches for a Krispy Kreme and latte. I may be in for a long night, he reasons, the extra calories will do me good. He watches Perkins' mother sit opposite her daughter bantering about the day's events. A blue Ford pick-up roars into the driveway as the garage door opens and the pickup fills the space next to the blue sedan in the two-car garage. The garage door slowly lowers. An older gentleman whom Bell assumes to be Perkins' father appears in the dining room and he also sits at the table. Perkins rises from the table and Bell watches as the light goes on in the foyer and then in a small window upstairs. Bathroom, he thinks. When no other lights go on, he returns his gaze to the father who now occupies the dining room table reading the newspaper. He watches as another light flashes upstairs and sees Elizabeth Perkins, wrapped in a towel, walk to the window of what must be her bedroom and lower the shade. The light remains on in that room. Bell checks his watch, musing that it's early, not yet 5:30. He wonders if she's going out for the evening when he sees the blind being raised and notices that Elizabeth is dressed in pajamas and a robe. Her hair is piled into a ponytail on the top of her head. She disappears and then reappears in the dining room window. She's holding her briefcase, talking with her father when her mother appears seeming to ask the father for something. Whatever the woman asks, the father seems none too happy to oblige her. He stands and protests, but Perkins seems to calm him. Perkins disappears while her parents banter, and Bell notices that a light in the basement has been turned on. They must have a rec room in the basement or an area where Perkins has an office. The next movement he sees is the father pulling his jacket on and impatiently waiting while his wife scribbles something on a pad. Bell muses that it reminds him of being sent to the grocery store to get some last minute item for supper. He congratulates himself on his deduction skills when he sees the garage door opening and the father getting into his truck. Maybe I'm not so clever, he muses, and maybe Perkins is in the truck with him. He glances at the foundation of the house and sees that the basement light is still on. As the truck backs out of the driveway, he notices that only one head is visible in the cab of the pickup. He weighs his options and decides he must commit to make sure. As the pickup eases out of the driveway and turns to pass him, he gets out of the car and hails the driver.

"Excuse me, sir, but do you know where the Johnsons live?" Bell asks in his disguised gravelly voice.

"Would that be the Dave Johnsons?" Perkins father asks.

"No, the Robert Johnsons. I'm here to visit my niece and seem to have lost my way."

"Sorry, sir. I don't know anybody by that name and I've lived in this neighborhood for thirty years."

"Thank you for your time." Bell steps back toward his car, confident that he has ascertained that Miss Perkins was not in the vehicle. He saw the list on the seat next to Mr. Perkins and silently patted himself on the back. It had been, indeed, a grocery list. Better safe than sorry, he thought, and double checked himself one last time. He punched in the number for the house.

A woman answers, "Hello?"

"Elizabeth Perkins, please." Bell growls.

"This is she."

Click.

Bell thinks that he might as well move the car now that he was certain that Perkins remains in the house and knows that the father will be returning. He drives around the block, pulls off the wig and glasses. When he returns to the Perkins' block, he parks down three houses on the same side of the street. This time, he disguises himself as a woman, albeit an unattractive one. He settles in for what will be a long night.

Click. Elizabeth Perkins punches her cell phone button. "Okay, Dad," she shouts. The pickup screeches to a stop. The hatch above her opens and her father's strong arm reaches for her. She eases herself upright and stands in the tool box spanning the width of the pickup.

"Bits, it's good that you're so little considering the line of work you've chosen," her dad smiles at her.

"Thank, Dad. I'll be home by morning. You know how to reach me if you have more problems."

"I'll be busy trying to find ground cumin for your mother for another half- hour. I'll look for you at breakfast," he states.

"Here's my ride now. I love you, Dad." Elizabeth jumps into the black BMW as Clayton Webb slows down and nods to Wayne Perkins.

"Take care of my girl," Perkins says with a wink. He watches them drive away and thinks about how dangerous this work is. He thinks of the visit Webb paid him as he made his daily five mile walk yesterday. On one hand, he is pleased with how old-fashioned Webb was, actually asking for his permission to marry his almost thirty-year-old daughter. On the other, he thinks that even if Webb can persuade Betsy to quit her job, what kind of life is it for her to have a husband who travels in constant danger. Will he and Eleanor be forced to help their daughter rear her children if she becomes widowed? He thinks of the age-old question of challenging children to become independent, responsible adults and then having to live with the consequences of the choices they make in their independence and responsibility. What's a father to do about it? Well, he thinks, he'd better get to the store to complete his wild-goose chase.

Webb exits the highway into the tony Maryland suburb. Gated driveways leading to gracious red-brick manors whiz past the windows as the couple rides in comfortable silence.

"Betsy, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but I'm certain that the house is being watched. I'll drop you off at the wooded end of the property and you'll have to go over the fence."

"I figured as much. That's why I'm dressed as I am. Think you can manage to sneak my garment bag into the house?"

"I'm a master of covert operations." Clayton sighed and patted her thigh. "It's just ahead. Make it a quick exit, just in case."

Webb slows the car and Perkins jumps out and scales the six foot rod iron fence. She drops down on the other side and disappears into the trees. Webb watches in his rear-view mirror and continues down the street to the next block. He stops at the control panel, punches in his code, waits for the gate to swing open, speeds into the driveway, and screeches to a halt. He thinks that he might as well put on a show for the benefit of his observer. He glances into the back seat and notices Betsy's tapestry garment bag and realizes that his own is in the trunk. This will take a little doing; he muses, then pushes the trunk release button and steps out of the car. He lifts his garment bag from the trunk and walks toward the front door of the house. He stops, as if remembering something, and returns to the car. Opening the back door, he sets his garment bag flat on the seat, scoots Betsy's on top of it, and folds the two together. He then grabs his briefcase with one hand and the folded garment bags with the other. He then breezes to the front door which is opened by Niles.

"Thank you, Niles," Webb sings.

"We heard you announce your arrival, Mr. Webb," Niles smirks.

"Well, we have to make things look good, don't we?" Webb sighs.

Through the telephoto lens, Agent Joe Ford trains his eye on the living room window and watches Webb embrace his mother. She's a good looking broad considering her age, Ford thinks, as he removes the flask of Chivas Regal from his jacket and takes a swig. What he couldn't possibly know is that the woman Webb was embracing, the slender, petite blond with her hair in a French twist, is none other than Elizabeth Perkins playing the role. Porter Webb is in her basement office decoding a North Korean intelligence intercept for the National Security Agency. So, as Ford spends the night with his flask and his camera, he unknowingly witnesses the forging of Webb's greatest partnership to date.

Over appetizers, Webb looks at the white roses that Betsy fingers.

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may" Webb quotes.

"Clay, not that poem. It's too sad," Elizabeth smiles.

"Why, how does it end?" Webb asks.

"The quote is: 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.'"

"That is depressing," Webb agrees.

The two pause as Niles removes their plates and brings the salads.

"Elizabeth, besides the fact that I wanted to see you tonight, I need to discuss some things with you about your career," Webb broaches the subject.

"You mean besides the fact that I'm the best assistant you've ever had?" Betsy teases.

"Unquestionably the best I've ever had, in every area," Webb teases back. "Which is why I'd like to change the nature of our relationship to more of a partnership than a supervisor/assistant relationship," he concludes.

"You mean I'm being promoted?" Betsy asks excitedly.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Betsy, look at me and please remember that we are being watched. Try to refrain from screaming at me or throwing wine in my face when I say what I'm about to say, " Webb warns.

Elizabeth nods silently.

"Darling, you're a brilliant, accomplished woman. You are a great asset to the Company and have unlimited career potential there. Selfishly, though, I would like you to consider resigning"

Betsy interrupts, "Did you just say 'resigning'?"

Webb nods, "Let me finish. I want you to resign as my assistant in order for you to become my wife."

Betsy looks into Webb's soulful eyes and ponders, "Why can't I be both?"

"Because I'm an old-fashioned, selfish man. Mostly because the danger is too great to you if you are both. Before you react, we're going to go downstairs and talk to my mother. She resigned when she married my father and has worked for the company ever since, from here, with fewer than ten people at the highest levels ever knowing it. You can continue her work under the cover of being my socialite wife. Besides, I can be eliminated at any moment. I want my children to have one relatively safe parent."

"Children, Clay?" Betsy deliberates.

"Oh, a dozen, at least," Webb jokes.

"I'm speechless."

"The ring is on your pillow. I don't want anyone to watch me put it on."

"You're pretty presumptuous to assume that you'll be anywhere near my pillow tonight," Betsy states.

"I'm confident of my ability to persuade you, Betsy." He turns to Niles who arrives with the main course. "Niles, we'll skip dessert after dinner, if you don't mind. We'll just finish the fish and then you can clear the table."

"As you wish, Mr. Webb."

Webb turns to Betsy and toasts her, "To the future Elizabeth Webb, my life partner."

Betsy raises her glass and toasts, "To the woman who loves you, despite your unreasonable demands."

Ford watches the dinner progress and surmises that Webb has one strange relationship with his mother. Talk about Oedipus' complexes, he surmises. This guy's a regular Norman Bates. He makes a mental note to check the records on Neville Webb's death, wondering if he was killed by his adolescent son. Why Bell sends me on these fruitless surveillances, he groans.

2300 ZULU Upper East Side of Manhattan Francesca Perretti's apartment

Wearing faded Levis and a "Go Navy" T-shirt, Alex stands washing dishes at Francesca's sink. Francesca is clearing the table and bringing dishes to him. They joke and laugh easily with each other. Francesca finishes putting the last leftovers into the refrigerator, closes the door, and leans against it. She scrutinizes Alex as he scrubs, rinses, and places the plates into the drainer.

"I have a dishwasher, you know."

"Is he cute?" Alex retorts.

"I mean an appliance that washes dishes."

"I don't mind, Francesca. The least I can do is to clean up after that meal. You are a fantastic cook. I think I will take you to Moscow and let you open a restaurant."

"Will you take me to Russia, Alex?"

Alex finishes rinsing the last of the silverware. He wipes his hands on the dish towel she hands him.

"Would you like me to?"

"I think I would. Right now, I want you to wash my dishes for the rest of my life. I can't believe I just said that."

Alex walks over and places his hands on either side of her as she places her back flat against the refrigerator. Without touching her with his hands, Alex leans down and gently touches her lips with his. When Francesca touches his chest lightly through his shirt, he pulls her to him, deepening his kiss. He steps back from her and searches her eyes with his. He swallows hard and rakes his hand through his hair.

"Francesca, I"

"Alex, I'm sorry. I was too forward."

"No, no, you were fine. Listen to me. The general that you met at the embassy dinner, Federov, is my uncle. I have requested a transfer to the United States, to either Washington or to our consulate in New York. I should have my answer from him in a few days."

"You are trying to stay here?"

"Francesca, I want time to explore this relationship with you. I don't want to have a quick affair with you. I want to move slowly. I don't know if I can move slowly when you kiss me like that."

"So you liked it."

"Francesca, I loved it. But, we're going to slow down. Now, you and I are going to watch American television or play chess or do something to get out of this kitchen."

"Alex, where are you going to sleep tonight?"

"On the couch. Let's not rush things, Francesca"

"My head tells me you are right."

"And your heart, what does it say?"

"My heart's still recovering from that kiss."

Alex lifts her chin with one hand and kisses her again, grinning. "Francesca, you need to take off that apron."

"Why? Don't you like a woman in an apron?"

"I'm going to dream of you in that apron." Alex kisses her forehead as she unties the apron strings. Francesca hands the apron on the hook and leads Alex to the coffee table and the chess set.

"Black or white?" Francesca purrs.

"Definitely black."

2350 ZULU

Fairfax, Virginia

Special Agent Bell dozes in his car as a slow moving car driven by Sturgis Turner dressed in street clothes passes by. Sturgis' passenger, Jennifer Coates carefully records the make and model as well as license plate number. They continue down the block, past the Perkins' home and turn up the side street. Sturgis stops the car, and Jennifer gets out joining Tiner and Gunny on foot. Gunny tells Sturgis to meet them at a prearranged convenience store location several blocks away. Gunny and Tiner synchronize their watches and Gunny and Coates begin walking arm in arm around the block. Tiner lingers for ten minutes and then begins walking in the opposite direction around the same block. As he turns the corner, Tiner sees Coates and Gunny rounding their corner. Tiner realizes that the car is parked closer to Coates and Gunny so he speeds his pace so as to encounter them as close to the car as possible. He notices that Gunny and Coates have also calculated the need to adjust their speed and have stopped to kiss under a street light.

"This isn't the Academy Awards, Gunny," he mutters to himself, expressing his displeasure with watching his friend kiss Coates. He notices that Coates doesn't seem to be minding the charade too much either. By the time they meet, Tiner does not have to work in order to feign displeasure with Gunny.

"Hey, what are you doing with my girl?" Tiner yells.

"I don't see ownership papers on her," responds Gunny.

As Tiner grabs for Jen's hand, Gunny steps between the two.

"Stop it, guys," pleads Jennifer as she watches them square off with fists raised. "Oh dear, can somebody help me?"

Jennifer spots the woman sitting in the car. She knocks on the window, "Ma'am, can you help me, please?" she whines.

Bell just stares at her, trying to think of how to best handle the situation when he hears the smack of Tiner's fist on Gunny's jaw. Gunny spins backward, but charges back at Tiner like a suburban mom at Macy's the day after Thanksgiving. Gunny punches Tiner in the stomach and Jennifer lets out a scream. Suddenly, an orange VW bus circa 1970 screeches to a halt on the street side of the Taurus and out jumps AJ Chegwidden wearing a blond wig and Meredith dressed as a flower child. Tiner looks up in shock at their disguises just in time to catch Gunny's fist on his jaw. AJ grabs Gunny and knocks him to the ground and pins both arms behind his back. Meredith, knowing that nobody can resist her, pounds on the driver's window until Bell lowers it halfway down.

"Ma'am, do you have a cell phone so that we can call 911?" Meredith pants.

"Uh, no," responds Bell in a falsetto voice. Meredith feigns being a dizzy blonde as she studies all the features of the obviously disguised woman. She notices that while he's wearing a dress and false bust, he never bothered to remove his wing-tip shoes. She also checks his fingers for rings. She notices that the left ring finger is bare, but that the right sports a University of Virginia class ring.

"Barry, darling, why don't we just take this nice couple wherever they want to go? You can leave Mike Tyson here."

"Okay, Suzy Q. Young lady, you choose which one of these goons you want to go with you."

Coates pauses and looks between Tiner and Gunny. Finally, she says, "Steve, I guess we need to talk so you'd better come with me." Tiner begins to walk toward the van. For effect, Jen walks over to Gunny as he struggles to his knees as AJ keeps a firm grasp on both forearms. She leans over to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"Bye, Tony," she smiles.

Meredith purposely moves into Bell's line of vision so that he cannot easily identify the members of JAG. After Coates and AJ get into the van, Meredith jumps into the passenger seat and they leave. Gunny stuffs his hands into his pockets and saunters down the block for the half mile walk until he meets Turner.

Bell smiles that he never had to leave the car and shakes his head at what a strange situation just happened. Then he reclines his seat and begins to doze.

Meanwhile, Bud and Harriet with AJ strapped into a car seat, cruise the streets of Webb's suburban neighborhood in their rented Mercedes SUV. When they are about a quarter mile from the entrance to Webb's family estate, they notice a white cable TV panel truck with one worker standing behind the guard rail peering between the trees. He holds what appears to be a tool of some sort. Bud slows the car and Harriet, guised in a black wig, calls to him, "Are you telling me that the cable is out again?"

"Ma'am, we're experiencing some static on the line. I'm just checking it out."

"Well, you know my favorite TV show is on tonight, the one with that handsome actor who plays the Navy pilot turned lawyer. I'd better be able to see it or your supervisor will hear from me in the morning."

"Oh, no problem, ma'am."

Ford peered into the SUV and noticed the man, bald with a bad comb over, and the little girl in the back seat. The woman was pregnant and sporting the biggest canary diamond he had ever seen. As they drove away, he thought, "She must be some high maintenance dame."

Bud and Harriet continued down the street for several more blocks before they burst into laughter. Bud reached up and peeled off his bald man wig. Harriet held her hand up to the light from the streetlight and asked, "Did you see the way that man looked at my diamond from the paste jewelry counter!'

Bud looked at his wife and said soberly, "Did you really have to dress AJ as a girl, even if he was asleep the whole time? This could have long term effects on his masculinity, Harriet!"

"I'm just protecting him, Bud. As far as that man knows, he saw a pregnant brunette with a bald husband and their little girl."

31 March 2003 0300 ZULU

Ford watches as Webb and his mother turn out the lights on the first floor of the house. He watches the lights of two non-adjoining rooms on the second floor switch on. Mrs. Webb walks to the window and pulls the shade. Within ten minutes, her light is turned out. Webb strips to his boxers without closing the blind. He picks up the telephone on the nightstand and dials a number. He talks animatedly for ten minutes or so and hangs up. He walks over to the window and opens it, pulls the blind, and turns out his light.

Ford makes a mental note to check out who Webb called and assumes that the two have gone to bed and settles into the truck to wait for morning.

Ford has just witnessed Porter Webb retiring for the night. Ford has not witnessed Webb's bedroom door opening and the entrance of Miss Elizabeth Perkins into Clayton Webb's room.

"Hello, darling. I thought you'd never get here." Webb whispers and raises the sheets.

Betsy wiggles next to him and whispers, "I was talking to Mummy."

"And just what did Mummy say?"

"That my career is not over if I quit my job with the Company. In fact, Mummy says that I have a very bright career ahead of me. Big projects."

"So what does Betsy think?"

"Betsy thinks that you've made her an offer she can't refuse."

"And how does Betsy feel?"

"Betsy loves Clayton Webb, impossible to live with or without super spy."

Clay chuckles. He reaches under the pillow on the opposite side of the bed. In the blackness of the room, he asks:

"Elizabeth, will you marry me?"

"Clayton, yes, I will."

Webb slips his arms around her petite body and kisses her lightly on the lips. He unwraps one arm to hand her the ring box. She takes it in both hands and timidly peeks inside the blue box to reveal a three carat canary yellow diamond. She gasps.

"I hope you aren't disappointed, but when I saw the yellow stone, I kept thinking of your blonde silky hair and your alabaster skin. Your beauty is so rare that I thought the stone should match it," Webb explained.

"Clay, how can I explain this stunning ring to people? You're the only one who could possibly afford something so magnificent."

"You don't need to explain. Type your letter of resignation the first thing and email it to the deputy director. I'll come in late and act befuddled. We're leaving in a few days anyway. We can be married in Iraq."

"Clay, I want my parents there."

"Okay, then, we'll get married here on Friday night. Maryland has no waiting period, but we'll need to get licenses tomorrow. Would that work for your parents and sister?"

"Thanks, Clay. I just want my family to be there."

"Well, it'll be small, but it will be legal and binding. Get out of that office as soon as you can tomorrow. Things are going to hit the fan if my plan for tonight worked. Come over here and my mother will be happy to help you get your trousseau together. She'll help you with a wedding gown too, if you want one."

"You know, Clay, she's not the overbearing person I thought she'd be."

"She wants grandchildren, darling, lots of grandchildren. You hold the power."

"Speaking of which, Clay, I just realized that I came, um, unprepared for tonight."

"It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

"You mean you think we should just go ahead?"

"What's two days?"

What indeed!

A/N Who knew there could be so much passion? Do you like the pairings?