Disclaimer: Profiler and all characters belongs to NBC, Sanders/Moses Productions, Cynthia Saunders, Stephen Kronish ... Not to me. No copyright infringement intended.
Part VII : A rest
John drove Bailey back to the VCTF parking, where he had left his car. Though it was almost 10:00, Bailey went up to his office. Everybody but the on guard agent had gone. George had left on his desk a copy of the Dallas police files on Bourner's case. There was no other message. Bailey picked up the file and went out.
He left the VCTF building and drove on Ceddar Street. He could not help noticing the van that immediately started following him. He smiled at his rear-view mirror. Though he had said he did not need one, his team had apparently decided he had to have a close protection. Nothing easier to detect as an FBI tailing.
He parked his car in front of the fire house. He had left enough time for John to come and pick up Angel. He wanted some time alone with Sam. He went up and gently knocked at the door. He didn't want to wake up Chloe. Sam opened the door. She was wearing the silk pajamas he had offered her for Christmas. She was so beautiful. All he wanted was to bury himself in her. But he understood at first glance there would be talking first.
She let him in and kissed him tenderly.
" John came to pick up Angel." she started. "He told me about your expedition in Texas.
- I thought he would.
- I guess it wasn't easy.
- I'd rather not talk about it tonight, Sam. Could we make a break ?
- You never feel like talking about you anyway, do you ?"
Her voice was tensed with irritation. He knew he had to say something to defuse her anger, but he was too tired to think of something smart. He sat in what had become his armchair over the last few weeks.
" There are things I just can't talk about, honey." he started. "I just don't have the right. There are some things they insist on when you enter the Military Intelligence. Silence is one of them.
- It was thirty years ago.
- There are reflex you acquire when you are young you find difficult to get rid of."
Sam came closer and sat in his lap. She put her hands in his hair and brought his head close to hers. Without a word, she kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, and finally his lips. Bailey answered her kisses with passion. He put his arms around her and lifted her, without breaking the kiss.
He took her to her bedroom and softly laid her on the bed. They started delicately to undress each other. Their bodies were getting warmer. They made passionate love. And again, and again ... Only when they were completely exhausted, did they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Sam was no more in bed when Bailey woke up the next morning. He took a shower and went to the kitchen. Sam and Chloe were having breakfast.
" Good morning uncle Bailey !" Chloe greeted him cheerfully.
" Hi sweetie. Slept well ?
- Like a baby. But I heard you come in last night."
Sam smiled. Bailey gave her a little kiss on the forehead. The conversation was light and joyful around the breakfast table. Sam and Bailey tried never to talk about work when Chloe was around. They waited till she left for school to talk about what kept their mind busy.
" Did you get anything from Michael Johnson yesterday ?" Bailey started.
" Nothing new. He was in a state of total collapse. His sister was the only family he had left and ..." Sam saw Bailey's look darken. "Bail, you're not responsible for her death. Jack is. For him, it's just a game.
- I know.
- I ' ve been through all this. I have an idea of what ...
- I'm Ok, Sam."
They finished their coffee in silence.
" All right, boss. I think it's time to go to work." Sam said.
" I'll join you later. There's one thing I've got to do first.
- And I guess you're not gonna tell me what."
Bailey felt irritation coming back in Sam's voice. He perfectly knew she was more worried than angry. He decided to be as honest as he could.
" We know how Jack got Johnson's name from Bourner. Then it has been easy for him to trace him back and to get to his daughter. But how could he make the link between me and what happened in Na Trang thirty years ago ? Even Bourner did not know my real name. Until yesterday, he knew me only as Tom Meroni. So did the personnel of the hospital back there.
- Who knew your real identity ?
- Only one person in Viet Nam : my direct supervisor. The principle was to split up information as much as possible. An Intelligence Service is a perfect place for paranoiacs. After the war, the branch I was in has been attached to the CIA. All information was transferred to their computer. It's classified information, really well protected. I received an alert yesterday. Somebody tried to break up security. They identified George. He tried to access my file, but even him did not succeed.
- How did they contact you ?
- This I cannot tell you. I have to talk to my supervisor. I don't think we will discover how Jack managed to enter their computers. But we need to know what else he learnt. There might be other people to protect."
They both kept silent for a few seconds.
" Sam," Bailey went on, "I really can't give you details on the modus operandi ...
- I understand. You'll be careful ?
- I promise, honey. But I have to do it.
- Ok. What can I tell the rest of the team ?
- Only that I went to contact my ex-boss to get information. Don't mention anything else. I should be back in the office for lunch."
Sam stood up and came to Bailey. She gave him a tender kiss, took her bag and went to the door. "See you later, cowboy." she said without looking at him. And she left the apartment.
Bailey checked through the window that the two agents assigned to Sam's protection were following her. He waited about five minutes and left the firehouse.
He started driving slowly, made sure his escort was keeping up with him. He parked his car about one mile later. He saw the FBI van pass him and stop a hundred meters away.
Bailey entered the phone box and dialed a number he had learnt years ago. The call did not last more than one minute. Then he went back to his car and stepped in. He turned off his beeper and his cell phone : he knew George could trace him using this kind of electronic devices. He started up the engine and entered in the morning traffic.
Getting rid of his followers was all the easier than they did not expect him to try. He was an FBI director they were supposed to protect, not a criminal they were chasing. He dumped them ten minutes later, at the semaphore on Shipton Street. He put a tape of the fifth of Beethoven in his car radio, and he left Atlanta.
To be continued ... R&R, Thanks.
Absolut.
