CHAPTER 7

John parked his Porsche in the underground garage of the FBI building, feeling pretty pleased with himself, and looking forward to putting the humiliating events of the last few days behind him. At least it had ended well; with the people they were investigating now facing lengthy jail terms, and the VCTF earning big points with the powers that be in Quantico.

He thrust his car keys into his suit pants pocket, and strode up to the lift doors, whistling a little tune that had been playing on his car radio earlier, smiling at the two women who were also waiting for the elevator. He stepped back when the doors opened, allowing the women to enter before him, then pushed the button for his floor. The two women began whispering and giggling, and staring at him really hard, and he began to feel uncomfortable under their collective gazes, wondering what they were staring at, and whether he had zipped up everything he should have. He cast a quick and furtive glance downwards, and was relieved to find things as they should be.

Luckily the lift soon stopped, with the slightest of jerks, but evidently enough of one to propel one of the women into tripping and falling against him.

He put his arm out and caught her by reflex, and was very surprised when she didn't stand up straight away, but had to clutch at him, her hands sliding all over his chest and arms and elsewhere. After quite a long moment, she recovered her footing, and standing very close to him, whispered her thanks, before joining her giggling friend in the corridor. John was pleased when the lift doors closed again, and he proceeded to his floor, feeling very embarrassed.

George was sitting at his desk sipping hot tea and looked up with interest as John walked into the control room.

"It's only 8," was all he said, and John looked over at him, puzzled by his comment.

"And?" he replied.

"Well, how can you look so disheveled so early in the morning?" asked George. "I mean, your tie is already crooked, and I think there's a button undone, or missing on your shirt! And it's come untucked."

John put his hand up and straightened his tie, and his fingers went to where the button was missing, and he cursed.

"Well, this woman in the lift this morning tripped over something, and I caught her, and she … um…. She … well I think she um…!" John couldn't stop the color creeping into his cheeks.

George began laughing, and John scowled at him, tucking his shirt into his pants.

'Good morning," said Bailey, as he strolled down the steps. "We have a fairly full schedule this morning, glad to see you are in early."

"For a change," said Rachel, as she came down behind Bailey, carrying her ever-present coffee cup.

"John's just been sexually assaulted," said George. "Had his clothes nearly torn off and everything."

Both Rachel and Bailey turned to look at John with amazement. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, nearly," he said in a plaintive tone, "Look, I've lost a button!"

"What happened?" asked Grace, as she came into the room. "What's the matter?"

"John got felt up in the lift," said George brightly. "I've never seen him blush like that before."

"Sexual harassment is not tolerated in the workplace," said Grace. "Are you going to report this?"

John looked even more horrified. "Oh God no," he said. "The woman tripped and I caught her. I'm probably just imagining the rest - forget it, please."

"Well, you don't have to put up with things that make you feel uncomfortable," Grace went on to say, but John shook his head, and sat down.

"This conversation is making me uncomfortable," he muttered, and George slanted another sideways look at him, and began chuckling again.

"Well, we have been officially invited to a special inter branch morning tea upstairs with the narcotics people this morning, to say thank you for helping them out, and making that arrest," said Bailey. "A couple of the top brass from headquarters will be there as well. Kudos' all around for the VCTF, which is never a bad thing, team. And of course John, they particularly want to thank you for your input."

John nodded glumly. "It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do," he said. "I hope they are going to give me a medal."

"Yes, that's going to happen," said George. "And a whopping great pension so you can retire, too."

Bailey laughed himself, and briefly dropped a hand on the younger agent's shoulder.

"Cheer up John, and if the Bureau is unappreciative, rest assured that I am glad you helped them out. That sort of goodwill can't be brought for love or money!"

He sat down in his big leather chair, and started to bring John up to date with what had happened over the last few days, then the team dispersed each to their own desks to write up reports.

An hour or so later Rachel tiptoed up behind John, and leant over to see what he was typing on his computer screen.

"If Bailey knew how many hours you spend playing Carjack on your Government issue computer, he's have a fit," she said, smiling, as John collapsed the screen down, and looked up at her in defiance.

"Well, I've finished the report, and if Bailey didn't think I was busy, he'd only find something else for me to do," he replied, flashing his special grin. "Why do you think I sit here, with my screen facing away from everyone else?"

"I wanted to speak to you before we go into this morning tea - thank you thing," Rachel began, picking up a pen, and twirling it between her fingers, refusing to smile back at him. "I couldn't believe you went for that man, while he was pointing a gun at you. It was a stupid thing to do; you could have been killed! Do you realize how scary it is watching you do things like that?"

"Well it was either that, or identifying your body a few days later when they tossed you out of an airplane, somewhere over Columbia," he replied. "It wasn't that big a deal, the guy was totally not expecting me to do that. I am just glad you realized what I was doing, and hit the floor."

"So are you going into detail about that in your report?" she asked innocently, "Because I am, and Bailey is going to carpet you for doing it."

"Rachel," he said, looking disappointed. "Can't you just say I disarmed him in the struggle, and not mention he was already pointing guns at us?"

"What's it worth to you?" she asked, leaning closer to him.

"Are you trying to bribe a Federal Agent?" he countered, staring back at her.

"Oh yeah," she said, biting the inside of her lip to stop herself smiling.

"What do you want?" he asked, his blue eyes crinkling with silent mirth.

"Well, it will be something big," she said. "You are asking me to falsify a legal document, after all. I'll think about it and let you know, when the time comes."

"The time has come," said George from the far corner of the room. "They buzzed for us upstairs. I'll get Bailey. I hope they haven't been stingy, and that they are supplying decent cakes and stuff."

They walked towards the lift, and were joined by Bailey and Grace who had shed her customary white coat in anticipation of a morning spent taking it easy.

The layout of the offices, quite a few stories above theirs, was very similar, but where the control room was on their floor, was an enormous boardroom, which was full of people grouped together and talking and laughing when they entered.

"Ah Bailey," said Susan Jamison, as she threaded her way through the crowd, "Glad you are here, let me introduce you around." She walked up to Bailey and Grace, smiling, and put her hand out to Bailey, but included Grace in her welcome. "You know David Blake and Thom Harrington, from Headquarters?"

"Yes I do, how are you?" said Bailey, shaking hands with the two men.

They moved off, talking and allowing Rachel and John to enter the room behind them. There was a momentary silence, and John looked up to be hit by the intense stares of most of the people in the room. He hesitated for a moment, in the doorway, not certain of what was going on, and Rachel sensing John's sudden reluctance to enter, in the face of all this avid interest, took his arm, and he turned his blue eyes on her almost in alarm.

"Shit, what have I done wrong?" he whispered to her. She shook her head smiling slightly whispering back "I don't know, have you falsified any reports lately?"

"Not that I can remember," he muttered, "But it's not out of the question. Oh hell, there's that woman that fell on me this morning."

Rachel looked over at a group of woman, who were staring over in their direction, one women caught Rachel's glare and raised her eyebrows suggestively, then whispered something to one of her friends, and the group all laughed. She kept her hand on John's arm, and turning her back on those people, pulled him over to where George and Grace were standing, near the large table, filled with finger food.

"Are they a weird bunch up here, or is that just me?" asked John, grabbing a sandwich.

"Do you really want an answer to that?" asked Grace, "It's way too easy a question."

Rachel smothered a laugh at John's hurt look.

"I know a couple of people, they seem o.k. to me," George said, but he was also taken aback by the amount of interest they were generating. "Look, there's Phil."

Phil pushed through some people to reach their side, and shook George's hand. He turned to John and Rachel, and put an arm around them both, grinning. "Well, look what the Bureau is doing for us," he said. "Don't you feel special?"

"I feel like a bloody idiot," said John, turning his back to the room. "Everyone is staring at me…us. I don't understand why."

"Ah," said Phil. "That could be my fault – well to a degree anyway."

"Why, what did you do or say?" asked John suspiciously, but at that moment someone called for silence, and the men from Headquarters stepped up to make a short speech.

John didn't really hear what was said; something about interdepartmental back scratching, and making the Bureau stronger, and congratulations on a well-run joint effort, so on and so forth. He absentmindedly applauded when everyone else did, and grabbed another sandwich from the loaded table. When the speech finished, he turned back to speak to Phil, only to find he had slipped away.

Bailey appeared at his elbow, and introduced the two men to him, and they both congratulated him on a successful conclusion, and Susan Jamison, the branch head of Narcotics joined them, also congratulating John, and herself for choosing him in the first place, and also praising her own man, Phil.

Rachel was talking to one of agents who she knew slightly from Quantico when Grace came up and made faces at her, so she excused herself and joined Grace.

"Look what I found," she said, and handed Rachel a series of large glossy photographs.

"Evidently these have been doing the rounds up here since the day before yesterday. No wonder everyone was looking at John. No wonder women were throwing themselves at him in the lift. He will go berserk when he realizes that these have been circulated up here. And so will Bailey."

Rachel looked down at the photographs; obviously ones that Phil had taken of John. They were very good, some she had seen before, and others she hadn't. In some photos, he was half naked, smoldering, sulky and sexy, in others happy and impossibly handsome. She looked back over to where he was standing with Bailey and the others, and knew why most of the women in the room were looking at him too.

"Shit," she said, biting her cheek to stop herself from laughing. "He's going to be so angry! I might try to get him out of here before he finds out. When we are gone, you can let Bailey know. Wish me luck."

"I will confiscate the photos," said Grace, also trying to keep the laughter off her face. "George will probably help you, grab him as well. Phil has quite a bit of explaining to do."