Chapter 8

The Official's patience was wearing thin. He'd been trying to maintain some degree of restraint ever since Jonas Spelling and his entourage had marched into the building unannounced. Now the man was strutting around like he owned the place, waving a damned federal arrest warrant as if it actually meant something to someone.

"I know Fawkes is somewhere in this building," Spelling ranted "Hand him over Charles." To make a point his eyes motioned towards the two uniformed and heavily armed soldiers who stood either side of the doorway, and there were plenty more of them outside - along with a DoD sweeper team.

Spelling continued his tirade and The Official groaned, raising his eyes heavenward.

"And when I find the treacherous punk he'll regret the day he ever double-crossed me. The Nevada facility will seem like a 5-star luxury hotel compared to where he's going next."

That was it, Borden finally snapped. He'd gone beyond reasoning with the man and had just about as much as he could take of his brazen posturing. Placing both hands on his desk he slowly and deliberately pushed himself to his feet, eyes narrowing to tiny slits as he glowered in Spelling's direction.

"Darien Fawkes is here, but you can't have him," he growled bluntly.

Spelling took a couple of threatening steps in Borden's direction still brandishing his piece of paper. "I've got a warrant that says otherwise," he advised officiously.

"Well you know what you can do with it," the Fat Man countered nastily. "I'm not about to stand by and see one of my people set up as the fall guy to cover your ass. The responsibility is yours and yours alone. Fawkes was just following orders."

Eberts, who had quietly slipped back into the office, watched the proceedings with a sort of detached amusement as his boss laid into Spelling. Everyone seemed oblivious to his presence as he picked up the phone on The Official's desk and tapped in a number.

"If you'd just had the common sense to run regular security checks on your 5-star rated agents, then you might have prevented this whole sorry mess. Now not only have you done what you accused me of when you stole my project, ' misuse a valuable government asset', you've also allowed a lethal weapon to fall into the wrong hands."

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose you know who tipped off the Pentagon about the stolen GS-2?" Spelling asked sarcastically.

Borden feigned innocence, a sinister little smile twisting his lips. "Did somebody tip them off?"

Spelling had to admit to a grudging admiration for Charles Borden. The man had a reputation for fighting dirty and he had expected nothing less where the QS9300 Project was concerned. He knew that in all probability Borden had somehow gotten hold of the security file on the stolen GS-2 and had leaked the information at the optimum moment - which by some weird coincidence just happened to coincide with the disastrous mission to retrieve it in Chicago.

Now the situation was fast turning into Spelling's worst nightmare. He needed to make a pre-emptive strike if he was going to come through this with his reputation and status intact, and as far as he was concerned Fawkes was the key to everything. The sooner he had the I-Man back under his control, the sooner he could come up with a plan to secure the GS-2. One would inevitably bring him the other.

"This is getting us nowhere," he sighed. "I'm only going to ask one more time Charles. Get Fawkes here NOW or so help me I'll give the order to tear this place apart brick by brick if I have to."

"Yeah, you and whose army?"

Everyone turned at the voice from the doorway. Spelling's eyes widening at the sight of Bobby Hobbes, gun in hand, shoving a heavy-set DoD agent into the room ahead of him. Fawkes was only a step behind, grinning appreciatively at this partner's intended pun.

"Don't just stand there, take him," Spelling barked at the young soldier nearest the door, who immediately tugged a set of handcuffs from his belt and took a faltering step towards Darien. Hobbes' gun swung immediately in Spelling's direction.

"If anyone takes one more step towards my partner pal, I'll be forced to do somethin' that you are seriously gonna regret." His words were spoken in a practiced tone, making them all the more intimidating.

"Easy Bobby," Darien said smirking insolently at Spelling. "You don't wanna aggravate that 'permanent vegetative state' of yours."

Exasperated now Spelling decided to take matters into his own hands, grabbing the cuffs from the young soldier.

"I'd strongly suggest you advise Agent Hobbes to put down his weapon, and then turn yourself over without a fuss before someone gets hurt," he warned Darien unpleasantly.

"And I'd suggest, " The Official's voice boomed loudly across the mayhem in the room, "that you might want to take this call Jonas."

Everyone fell silent. Eberts helpfully held out the phone receiver to Spelling, who hesitated a moment before stepping forward, fighting to suppress a sudden sense of dread. Borden's smug grin did nothing to quell his fears.

"How dare you undermine my authority."

Within seconds the color had completely drained from Jonas Spelling's face, and he unconsciously straightened his posture as a mark of respect to the man who barked irately down the secure phone line at him.

"Agent Fawkes and the QS9300 Project are under my special protection Director Spelling. And that means they're now completely off limits unless I order otherwise, am I making myself clear?"

Spelling nodded mutely.

"I'll expect to see you in Washington first thing to answer for your actions. In the meantime I'm putting my trust in Charles and his team to clear up your mess and retrieve the GS-2. And God help you if innocent civilians are harmed because of your gross incompetence."

"Yes Mr. President," muttered a stunned Spelling as the call finished with an abrupt slamming down of the receiver at the other end.

Perfectly aware that he was the focus now for everyone in the room, he did his best to regain some composure, turning to the soldier who was still staring at him expectantly.

"Tell your men to stand down," he ordered, wincing inwardly at the delighted whoops coming from Hobbes and Fawkes' direction.

He'd gone against Borden and his shabby little empire and lost, he was resigned to that now. But how different it would all have been if Ella Craven and Bruno Sartori hadn't betrayed him. All that was left now was for him to try to exit with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

"What about the money we paid for him?" He nodded brusquely towards a grinning Darien, who had his arm draped around Hobbes' shoulders.

"Ah, yes about that." It was Eberts' turn to contribute and he pulled a small calculator from his inside pocket and began tapping the digits quickly. "By our estimation… you owe us a further 2.5 million."

Spelling's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. "How….?"

The young clerk didn't give the man a chance to respond. "Well sir, in addition to the 17 million, which is non-refundable, and your most generous donation for 'research purposes', the extra charges are for two and a half months rental of one of our top agents." He gave a half smile in Darien's direction, then leaning towards Spelling to advise in a stage whisper. "We've waved our usual fee for general wear and tear."

The Official patted his assistant on the back approvingly.

Jonas Spelling moved to the open doorway, turning back to glance at Darien and then meeting Borden's unsympathetic gaze.

"Everything I did was for the good of the project and our country Charles, you have to believe that."

The Official responded with a snort of laughter. "As far as I can see, the only good thing you've done is give Fawkes a decent haircut."


"Are you sure you wanna go through with this?" Bobby asked throwing a concerned glance in his partner's direction.

Ella Craven had called with details of the rendezvous point a short time before, and now they were huddled around the conference table in The Official's office studying a scale map of the area.

"No," Darien responded honestly. "But I don't see that I have much of a choice, do you?"

Hobbes shook his head soberly. Considering what was at stake, their options were practically non existent.

In just 2 hours he was supposed to hand his partner over to Craven and Sartori, and in return they would get Claire back and the general populace of San Diego would be spared the lethal effects of the GS-2 nerve agent.

He'd gone over every conceivable scenario in his head a hundred times already trying to find a way through this without risking Fawkes, but he knew that whatever plan he came up with Ella Craven had probably already countered it; she wasn't a 5-star rated agent for nothing. Even her choice of location was inspired; selected undoubtedly to emphasize the fact that she would have no qualms whatsoever in endangering innocent lives if it meant she got her prize…Darien Fawkes

Bobby checked his watch and motioned to his partner decisively. "Okay kid, if we're gonna do this we should get you kitted out. Ebes we'll need some stuff, headsets, mics…the usual."

Eberts was pleased to play his part. "Leave it with me Robert. Due to our recent good fortune, I've been able to upgrade all of our communications equipment. I believe you will both be suitably impressed."

Unfurling his long frame from the chair Darien stood ready to follow Eberts, only to find his route barred by The Official.

"Fawkes. I think you should report to the Keep and let Dr. Carter check you over before you leave."

Wesley Carter had turned up on the heels of Jonas Spelling, bearing the recipe for the neutralizing agent and an offer to do whatever he could to help until Claire was returned safely.

Darien regarded the Fat Man suspiciously. "Why?"

"Well, now that the doctor has chosen to join our team, I full expect him to oversee your day to day medical care, under the supervision of your Keeper of course."

"Like hell he will…" Darien started forward, calming slightly when he felt Bobby's hand on his arm.

"For once, can't you just do as you're told?" Borden snapped wearily. "At the very least let the doctor prescribe something to keep you alert for the next few hours, you look like you haven't slept in days."

He was right of course. Darien's last long stretch of quality, non-drug induced sleep had been back at the DoD facility in Nevada almost 72 hours previously. Since then he'd only managed to grab an hour or two here and there. He was running on pure adrenalin.

"Not a bad idea buddy." Hobbes was trying his best to diffuse the tension.

"As usual it's not me he's worried about Bobby. But…oh…hey…we're life partners now so…love me, love my gland. And that's something we really do need to have a little chat about some time soon."

Bobby physically placed himself between the pair his back to The Official and whispered, "Save it Fawkesy, now ain't the time."

"Don't believe everything they told you kid." The Official's strained tone of a few moments before was now replaced with a sort of empathy, that those who knew him would not have equated with the man's usual brusque temperament.

Hobbes saw his friend tense again and knew that he was a long way from letting it rest.

"Okay, so you gonna look me straight in the eye and tell me you can get this gland out of my head Charlie?"

The emotional intensity of his words was followed by a long heavy silence, until Borden abruptly turned away, walking back to his desk.

Darien stared after him impassively. "Nah, didn't think so."

He looked as if he desperately needed to say something else, but instead just shook his head sadly before turning quickly and leaving the office.

Muttering a curse Bobby went to follow his friend, until The Official called after him.

"Bobby, a word," he said, indicating that Hobbes should close the door.

"What's up Chief?"

Borden removed his glasses and began massaging his temples. It had been a long, stressful day and one that was far from over.

"I know Darien won't want to hear this right now, but what's happened to him…the gland…it really wasn't part of our agenda."

"Maybe not, but he's the one gotta live with it."

"Is that really so bad?" Borden asked earnestly, taking Bobby a little by surprise. "You and I have spent the best part of our lives fighting for this country of ours. We've both had to make sacrifices along the way."

Hobbes fidgeted a little as he fought to control a surge of anger. "Yeah, but we signed up for it, that kid didn't have a choice," he stated coolly. "All he can see ahead for himself now is a lifetime tied to one government agency or another, or dodging the De Fehrns or Cravens of this world."

His gaze shifted for a moment and when it focused back on The Official there was an intense sadness there, and with a voice barely above a whisper he stated. "At least before he had a little hope."

"There's always hope Bobby," Borden countered softly. "The Project is back where it belongs, and we've now got the resources to protect him properly."

"Protect Darien," Bobby didn't even try to disguise the cynicism, "Or your precious gland?"

Borden lowered himself carefully into his chair, running a hand across world-weary features.

"Believe it or not, I'd consider Darien an asset to this agency even without the gland." A wry smile masked his fatigue for a moment. "But if you tell him that I'll deny it. Can't have the punk thinking I actually give a damn."

Hobbes just stood there and stared at his boss, not quite sure he'd actually heard what he thought he'd just heard, so it took him a moment to realize that The Official was still talking.

"…the GS-2 and the welfare of the public are our main priority here, but he follows a close second. Once the nerve agent is secured I want you to haul him out of there."

"Don't sweat it chief. Fawksey's got no intention of spending the rest of his days with Cru-Ella."

"Dr. Keeply's safety is also paramount , but if it should come down to choosing between them…she would understand…"

"Don't even go there," Bobby cut in sharply. "Cause there's no way Fawkes will wanna come back without her."

The Official nodded soberly, not really expecting any other reaction from his agent.

"Which is why I'm putting my faith in you to bring them both home safely Bobby."

TBC