Apologies for the delay in updating, life has just been crazy for the past fortnight.

Chapter Three

Michelle pushed open her office door, walking out onto the mezzanine floor overlooking CTU, her heels clicking against the platform, echoing around her.

"Could I have your attention, please?"

Almost instantly, all conversation in the bullpen ceased, apart from the soft murmur of personnel answering phones. Every eye trained on her. Waiting for her instructions, her commands.

'This shouldn't be me' she thought. 'This should be George or Jack or....'

But it wasn't George or Jack or Tony. Not anymore. It was her duty, her responsibility, her job to command.

She looked around the bullpen. "I've just spoken to Tom. His teams are in position and they're waiting for the hostiles to arrive. Chloe, I want you to start pulling satellite info for the area. Adam, co-ordinate with local law enforcement, make sure Tom gets the support he needs. Run any intel you pick up through Tony. Any questions?"

"What about the money trail?"

"Send it to my screen. I'll work that thread. Anything else?" She looked around the bullpen, at her staff. "Lets get back to work. I want updates from the wharf every ten minutes."

Michelle turned quickly and walked back to her office. Fighting the urge to run. She pretended not to hear footsteps on the stairs behind her. Refusing to look around, she walked across her office, feeling her temples throb with every step. She sank into her chair, her hands coming up to massage her forehead. She felt her wedding ring, cool against her hot skin.

"Michelle, are you sure I should be running tactical?"

She closed her eyes, still rubbing her forehead. "Of course I'm sure, Tony." Her workstation beeped, as the information Adam had sent arrived on her computer.

Tony moved closer to her desk. "It's just...I've been thinking about what you and Natasha said. I don't want you to get into any more trouble, just because Hammond has it in for me."

Michelle sighed, forcing her hands away from her forehead, opening her eyes to look at him. "Tony, can you run tactical for this operation?" She flinched when she heard how cold her words sounded.

Was this what this job was doing to her? To them?

She hardened her heart. They had a job to do.

He met her eyes evenly. "You know I can Michelle."

"I know, Tony." She tried to smile. "You run tactical, and let me deal with Hammond."

He nodded and walked across the office, stopping at her door. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a migraine coming on."

She waited until he left the office, until she could hear his footsteps on the stairs leading to the bullpen. Michelle sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes again.

She hadn't told Tony that Hammond had already been on the phone to her. Had already demanded an appraisal of Tony's performance.

How could she tell him that?

THE GARAGE CLUB, LA

The alcove was shadowed, dark. Lit only by the flashes of strobe lighting and two small candles, gleaming pathetically against the darkness of the club. Ashley slid into the seat opposite Alyson. Feeling the reassuring weight of her gun, pressing against her.

Alyson pulled out a cigarette and lifted one of the candles. Trying to get a light off the tiny flame.

"Do you want a light?" Ashley produced her Zippo, and worked the mechanism. Alyson leaned across the table, putting her hand on Ashley's to hold the lighter steady.

The end of the cigarette glowed red in the darkness as Alyson took a long drag. She leaned back, blowing a cloud of smoke across the alcove. Ashley sat forward, resting her elbows on the table, clicking her lighter on and off, another little gleam of light in the darkness of the alcove

She kept stealing glances around her. Where was Williams?

"Did he give you anything for me?" Alyson's voice was harsh, hoarse. Her eyes meeting Ashley's, and then sliding away. She took a hasty, almost, embarrassed drag of her cigarette.

"Yeah, well, he paid for this." Ashley reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, starting to pull out a small sealed bag.

"No!" Alyson's shout was audible, through a sudden brief silence in the music. She ducked down, her face flushed, even though no one else in the club could have known where the noise came from. "No. Not here." She leaned forward, her elbows almost touching Ashley's. "Did he give you anything else for me?"

Ashley shook her head.

"Shit!" Alyson blinked rapidly, tears sparkling in her eyes, clearly visible despite the dim light. "Shit." She started to fumble through her bag, tears tearing tracks down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. She pulled out a mobile phone.

It started to ring as she lifted it out of the bag. She flipped it open and held it to her ear. Ashley leaned back, pretending to entertain herself by snapping her lighter on and off. Listening intently.

"Where?" Alyson's face twisted. She fumbled through the bag again, pulling out a handkerchief. She touched it to her eyes. "Who?" She closed her eyes as she listened, fresh tears bubbling against her lashes. "Okay."

She snapped the phone closed and put it back in her bag. She rose to her feet, still refusing to meet Ashley's eyes. She jerked her head towards the club exit.

"Come on."

WHAF 4, WEST LA

"Tom, we got something moving in the harbour. About two thousand metres out, coming your way."

Tom pressed a gloved hand against his radio. "Copy that, Tony. All Delta units, keep an eye out." He turned to the men standing with him and Nathan. He signalled one section and pointed to the left, then at the rest and Nathan and pointed to the right. They quickly moved to their assigned positions.

Creeping forward. Weapons ready. Staying low. Etching as much cover as they could.

"750 metres." Even Tony's voice was low, scared to break the stillness. Adam would be able to tell him that the Delta teams were moving into position.

He wasn't Jack.

Angrily, Tom shook his head, forcing away the echo of his earlier words. He ducked behind a crate. He could almost see the boat, through his goggles. He could hear the engine churning through the waves. Tom pressed the radio, checking Nathan's position.

Two clicks came back, almost instantly. Nathan was in position and ready.

He could see the boat, naturally, now, almost at the mouth of the wharf. The engine stilled as it approached, drifting towards the dock. It touched against it with a bump, almost shockingly loud in the stillness.

A man jumped over the edge and started to secure the boat. He had an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder, and he worked by feel. Glancing cautiously around the wharf. Two more men appeared on the deck of the ship. One jumped onto the wharf, while the other started to hand him wooden crates over the edge of the boat.

Tony's voice broke into Tom's ear. "We got movement from the east side. Large black van heading your way."

"Rodgers, Forest, make the interception. Do it quietly." Tom kept his eyes on the unloading operation. Wondering, irrationally, if they had heard him.

"Copy that."

He pulled out his PDA, checking the Delta team's positions. Needing that reassurance. He risked another look over the top of the crate, hastily ducking back down. He clicked his radio on.

"This is Baker. Take them."

The van slowed as it made his way through the wharf complex. The driver killed the lights, steering carefully down the cluttered approach road.

Forest stepped into the road in front of it. He levelled his gun at the vehicle, clicking on the torch attached to it, shinning it through the window, illuminating a young man, untidily dressed, with an untidy beard.

He covered his eyes and jerked the wheel to one side, the van slowing further.

Rodgers jerked the door open, his gun pointed at the driver, just as Forest stepped closer. Covered, the driver raised his hands in surrender.

"Stop! CTU!"

The man crouching next to the boat spun on his knee, raking the area with automatic gun fire. Nathan threw himself on the ground, sliding behind another crate. He felt the dock, rough against his knees. Bullets slammed into the crate around him, showering him with splinters.

Behind him, members of his Delta team took cover as well. He heard gunshots, echoing around him, spent cartridges dropping onto the dock.

He rose to his knees, risking a look from cover. More bullets. Slamming into the crate.

He signalled at his team, and spun out into the open, firing at the boat, seeing the hostiles duck for cover. His team ran forward, firing as they moved.

Baker moved his team forward at the same time, using what crates they could for cover. Taking advantage of the confusion caused by Nathan's section to creep forward.

There were more men on the deck of the boat. Trying desperately to provide some covering fire, but finding themselves pinned down by CTU fire.

One of them leaned over the boat, a jagged knife in his hand. Meaning to cut the rope.

Gault's bullet took him in the chest.

Baker's team moved in from the left, firing as they moved. Allowing the other unit to creep forward.

Keeping moving, keeping firing. Keeping the boat's crew pinned down.

Caught in the pincer, the moping up didn't take too long.

There was a car waiting for them outside the club, the windows tinted and the headlights off. Alyson didn't look around, walking straight to the car with an air of grim resignation.

She didn't speak as the car drove through LA. Didn't look around her. Staring straight ahead, her lips thinned with determination.

Looking closer, Ashley saw marks in her lower lip where she had bitten it, her fingers whitening as she gripped the seat.

The car slowed to a halt outside a housing complex. Lights glistened in the windows of some of the rooms, isolated reminders of normality. The driver didn't look around. "Get out."

He drove off, almost as soon as the door had closed.

Alyson walked straight to an apartment, more battered than the others, the windows and the door showing signs of careless repair. She knocked on the door.

It opened quickly, quietly, despite it's worn and battered appearance. Alyson walked into the apartment. Ashley hesitated. Touching her cell phone, her gun. Reassuring herself of their presence. Then she followed after Alyson.

It looked worse on the inside. Uncarpeted, unlived in, the furniture dilapidated and threadbare, it stank of abandonment, of carelessness.

Of loneliness.

The door shut after her, a shadowy figure working the lock mechanism.

Again, she dropped her hand to her gun.

The figure looked past her, staring at Alyson. "He's through there."

Ashley followed Alyson into the living room. There was a man, sitting in a chair, his back to the window. He smiled when he saw the marks her tears had made in her face.

Alyson walked over to him. Pretending to ignore his hungry stare, her own eyes dead. "Let's get this over with."

"Not so fast." He nodded at Ashley. "Who's she?"

"Samuel sent her."

"Did he?" He rose to his feet, dark shirt tucked into dark jeans, moving towards Ashley, his long fingers curling into casually, cruel fists. Looming over her.

She took a step back, careful, in the dark living room. Not all of her sudden rush of fear was an act.

"Did you bring any?"

Ashley nodded, pulling the small bag from her jacket. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alyson turn towards her, eyes lighting up, her hands reaching, pleading for the bag.

"Okay." His smile was cruel and harsh. He turned his back on her, dismissing her, and walked back to his seat.

"Can I have some, Jake?" Alyson glanced over her shoulder at Ashley. "Please?"

"You know the way this works, Alyson."

She nodded and sank to her knees, kneeling between his spread legs. Small fingers working at his zipper and belt, her head bending over him...

A sudden light flared through the dark room.

Ashley spun on her heel, hand reaching for her gun. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The man from the door was taking photos.

"What are you doing?" Ashley knocked the camera to one side, just as he lined up another shot. "I don't want to be part of your fucking porn movie, you fucking sick fuck." She made another grab for the camera.

The man backed away, holding his camera out of her reach. "This is nothing to do with you. This is between her and Samuel." He nodded at Alyson.

Jake pushed Alyson away from him and zipped himself up. She scrambled backwards, away from him, not daring to rise to her feet. He stood up. "Samuel wants that done within 36 hours."

He reached into his back pocket, and Ashley tensed, ready to move.

He threw a couple of photos at Alyson, striking her on the face with them, and walked past her.

He glanced at Ashley on his way out. "She can have that now."

Michelle ignored the signal from her workstation for as long as she could. Hoping that Hammond would decide that this meeting could wait. She rubbed at her eyes and took another mouthful of coffee.

The workstation beeped again.

She turned in her chair and accessed the meeting program. "Good evening Brad, Natasha." She fought to keep her features steady. Both of them? "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but we've been conducting an operation here."

"Well do you mind if we get started, then Michelle? It is very late, and I'm sure we're all keen to get home to our families."

Even Natasha flinched at Hammond's sarcasm.

Michelle smiled, determined not to let him provoke her. "Fine." The one way she could help Tony was for her to keep her cool.

Hammond stared at her for a second and then nodded at Natasha.

Michelle pressed a button on her keyboard, recording the meeting.

"This is a special meeting regarding Special Agent Tony Almeida and his recent actions and conduct. Present are myself, Natasha Grey, Head of Division, and Brad Hammond, Head of CTU. Also present is..."

"Michelle Dessler, Director of CTU LA."

"This meeting is part of a series dealing with Agent Almeida's probation and his current status within CTU. Michelle, what operations has Agent Almeida been involved with recently?"

"He ran tactical communications for two CTU field operations in the past day. Both operations were a complete success, and both I and Director of Field Operations Tom Baker have total confidence in Agent Almeida's abilities."

She hated referring to him as 'Agent Almeida'

'Distance, Michelle' she reminded herself. 'Distance. Keep your cool.'

Her door knocked and she looked around, signalling for Tom to come in.

"Are there any further questions? My field agents have just returned and I'd like to speak to them."

"No, Michelle, that's all for now. Have a good evening."

"Good night." Michelle severed the connection and rested her head in her hands. "How'd it go out there?"

Tom shrugged. "Good. One dead, three injured and another two arrested. Three of our guys hurt."

"How did Tony do?"

"He did fine, Michelle. You know I wouldn't be putting our guys on the line if I didn't trust him, if I didn't think he was up to it." Tom sat down on her couch, still dressed in his SWAT gear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just Hammond." She rubbed at her temples again. "Is everybody in custody?"

"Yeah, I was going to leave the interrogation until morning. Let them stew overnight in the cells."

"Good idea." She picked up her phone and dialled down to the bullpen. "Adam? It's Michelle. Is the night shift here yet? Make sure they've been brought up to speed and then tell everybody that they did a good job tonight, and that they're to go home and get some sleep. We'll hit this again in the morning when we're all fresh."

Nathan stopped at Tony's station on the way out. "You want a lift, Tony?"

"No, thanks." He glanced up at the Directors Office, at Michelle, still working, trying to finish a few final tasks. "I'll wait on her."