Chapter 8: Unusual Tactics


Bullpen, Hoover Building

Monday, 27 December

9 a.m.

"All right. Hope you all enjoyed your holidays, because we've got work to do." Dimitrius tapped his fist against the board. "Recap and regroup."

Bobby dropped the lid back on the box of strawberry tarts that had sneaked its way onto his desk yet again and leaned back in his chair. "Well, since we didn't get a lot of help from our pal 'Socrates,' we've spent the last month working our way through a few other 'distributors' and have managed to move up a couple of levels. Myles seems to be our golden boy on this one." The Aussie rolled his eyes as the Harvard grad gave him a smug smile.

"This group is well organized," Jack added. "Nobody seems to know much more about the leadership than their own immediate contact."

"I have a meet scheduled for Friday night with my latest contact," Myles said. "See about working my way up into middle management. They offer a better salary."

D rolled his eyes slightly at the quip, then stared at the board for a long moment. "Is it just me, or are these guys getting younger with each level we go up?"

Eyes widened all over the room, and several heads were nodding. Tara brought up the files. "Yup. We lose an average of three years with each level."

"Lovely," Myles intoned. "By the time we get to 'Mr. Big' we'll be arresting toddlers. Although it would be a step above our usual criminal's mentality." He caught the puzzled look on Sue's face and immediately signed SORRY. He then followed up with JOKE ME. TOP PEOPLE MORE YOUNG. MANAGER CHILD. He indicated "toddler" with the height of CHILD at the top of his desk.

She smiled and responded SMART BABY. THANK-YOU.

NO PROBLEM.

Bobby shook his head. "I still feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone watching you sign, mate."

D brought the conversation back on track before Myles could respond. "So what's happening to the real jewels once they're replaced with the fakes? We're not seeing them showing up in pawnshops anywhere in the country. We've even got the Canadians keeping an eye out for them." He faced Sue head-on. "Howie find anything?"

Sue shrugged. "Not a thing. We think they either have a stash somewhere, until the coast is clear, or there's another plan in motion."

They spent a few minutes tossing theories back and forth; no one noticed the slightest raising of a pair of blond brows over blue-grey eyes that now gleamed with the seeds of an idea. He needed to talk to someone before he presented it, though.

"All right," D said finally. "We're not getting anywhere just sitting here speculating. I figure we have a bit of a lull on heists right now. Christmas is over, and it's still seven weeks before the biggest jewelry-buying holiday of the year. Most of these stores will start getting their Valentine inventory in two weeks. Let's not have Sam running in here again because Tara's present turned out to be counterfeit."

Tara blushed clear to her toes as laughter rippled around the Bullpen. D then continued, "Pair off; find out when and from where shipments are coming in. Keep an eye out for patterns in dates, routes, anything you can think of. Let's see if we can have a little more to go on by Friday. Jack, Sue; Myles, Bobby; Tara, you're with me. Let's get to it."


&
Gymnasium, Hoover Building

Monday, December 27

4 p.m.

Tara swung off the monkey bars and landed on the mat, catching the towel Myles tossed at her in the same motion. "Are you supposed to skip every other bar?" she asked with a grin, draping the towel over her shoulder.

He gave it right back to her. "Only on the last lap." He leaned down and let his body stretch until his palms were almost flat on the floor, then gave her a mock-glare when she did the same move and made it all the way down. "You don't want to trade backs, do you?"

"No, thanks, old man," she teased. "But I think I'm glad I'm short. That six-foot height those bars are set at doesn't exactly help you out, does it?"

They'd been down here for an hour already; the warm-up alone was enough to make most "weekend athletes" cringe. A mile of laps, straight-back pushups, crunches, and fifteen minutes apiece on the punching bag; they'd just finished twenty laps across the bars, and were just now getting to the paired-off workout of takedowns and defense.

"Can I ask you something?" Myles straightened and shook the kinks out of his neck.

"Sure."

"It just seems like you usually schedule these workouts so you end up with me. Bobby too rough on you?"

Tara sat down on the mat and continued to stretch her legs. "Just the opposite," she replied, her voice slightly muffled as she bent down to touch her forehead to her knee. She sat back up and huffed in exasperation. "Bobby, even after all this time, still treats me like his kid sister; like he's going to break me or something. You at least take me seriously."

The blond agent laughed. "I started taking you seriously the first time we sparred together; you put me halfway through the mat, I think. You were only a month out of Quantico, and it never occurred to me that you'd have learned so quickly to use your stature to throw off a taller opponent's balance."

"Hey, I grew up with brothers and male cousins. I had to learn to use my size to my advantage. That's not training; it's called survival instinct."

They moved over to the center of the mat; Tara wasn't often involved in takedown situations, but she always made sure she was ready for it. She made it a point to train often with either Myles or Bobby, because most perps were a bit larger than, say, Howie Fines. That she could still catch them both by surprise was a feat she was secretly proud of.

Myles set himself and waited; the first few moves he usually let her have as "freebies;" it gave her a chance to find her rhythm. "Thanks for delivering Bobby's 'secret' this time, by the way. It'll throw him off even further."

"No problem. I heard him light into you; he's really getting it down to a sermon, isn't he?" She set herself as well: feet apart, knees bent slightly, back straight with her arms forward. They faced off, ready at any moment, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Myles suddenly grabbed Tara's left forearm with his right hand, jerking her forward and holding her tight. Looking up at him, she grinned, and a whisper of "Aha" escaped under her breath.

"Aha?" He repeated, raising a brow at her. "This one's a freebie, TaraTech; you already know that. So finish it off."

"All right." Tara grabbed his left shoulder with her left hand, placing her right foot slightly behind his right foot. She didn't realize that he had done the same foot maneuver, but he gave her time to react. Quickly, she raised her petite foot slightly above his ankle and latched onto his leg, pulling his shoulder forward while sweeping with her foot. A moment later she found herself with her knee hovering just above his throat as he quietly lay on the ground, surprised anew at her ability to take him down so easily.

"You know, you'd think I'd be used to that by now," he quipped.

Tara swiveled her knee off to the side, tapping his chest as she laughed. "You're just getting slow in your old age is all, Myles, freebies or not." She held her hand out to help him up.

He brushed himself off. "Ready for another round, partner?"

She nodded, setting herself again. "I'm ready for you. And skip the freebies this time."

"Your call," he grinned.

Tara rubbed her hands together, her eyes gleaming with certain joy. For all she'd told Sue about avoiding "all possibility of collision that doesn't involve airbags," this was a part of her job she looked forward to; pitting herself against a challenger, pushing herself to her limits. And that most of her male colleagues let her do just that made it more rewarding.

She did a slight jump in the air and landed, feet perfect for her next maneuver. Again they both held their feet apart, bodies sideways, arms ready to strike the other with little or no warning.

Myles' arm shot at her like a snake striking for its prey during a feeding frenzy. His hand latched onto her forearm and twisted it counter-clockwise in a single motion. His foot slid behind hers, and in a sweeping motion knocked her quickly to the ground, his knee landing on her upper arm, holding her in place and knocking the breath out of her for a moment.

"What was that about slow?" he grinned as he started to help her up.

But as he released his hold on Tara's upper arm and she had her feet under her, she grabbed his wrist. In a single swift movement she twisted it clockwise, taking his arm and then his body around as well. As he spun, she forced his arm upward to the center of his back and with her foot gently struck the back of his knee, forcing him to his knees. A single thrust to the center of his back with her other hand, and Myles found himself face first on the cold hard blue sparring mat, his female partner's knee holding his head in place on the back of his neck.

"My apologies," she chortled. "I meant slow and senile."

"You enjoy this far too much," he grunted as she let him up again.

Tara gave him a wicked grin. "Beats hacking your computer. That I'd have to go back and repair." They faced off again; she saw the concentration on his face and knew he'd gotten truly serious. She wasn't likely to get another opening like the last one.

I had an idea this morning I thought I'd run past you," he said as they circled each other and he blocked a grab from her. "For the next level of this jewelry sting."

"So how come you didn't bring it up during the rap session?" She narrowly avoided an ankle sweep.

He followed up with his left hand at the left side of her neck, but she twisted out of it before he could complete the grab. "Because I wanted to have it at least penciled out before I tossed it at D."

Tara straightened her left leg, shifting her weight to it; drawing her right knee up, she bent it downward. "Ok, shoot," she said, striking Myles in the thigh with a straight leg kick.

He countered with a one-two punch at her. "I'm supposed to meet with this guy Friday night about moving up a notch in this organization. Don't know his name yet, but he's apparently our next rung on the ladder. I thought I'd offer a rather unique solution to their apparent problem of getting rid of the merchandise. Sort of prove I have something to warrant being involved."

"And this rather unique solution would be...?" she asked, finishing a roundhouse.

He blocked it, then returned one of his own, which she ducked. "I have this friend," he replied. "A jewelry designer who takes the stuff I bring her and re-sets it into her custom designs. As long as I keep her in materials, she doesn't ask any questions."

Tara threw another straight leg kick. "A sound idea. Who's your friend?"

"You."

She gaped at him, her concentration destroyed for the split-second he needed to lunge and sweep her feet out from under her. But he had miscalculated just how shaken she'd be; she went down much harder than he'd intended, and he was seriously off-balance for the rest of the move. His heart nearly stopped as he realized that if he didn't do some fancy maneuvering now, his knee would crush her windpipe.

Oh, dear God, help me…


&


Jack had been observing them for about ten minutes from the doorway, far enough away that he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He was always amazed to watch Tara with these guys; she was so often either in the surveillance van or coordinating from the Bullpen that he forgot she was as fully trained an Agent as the rest of them. A fact that got driven home with a vengeance at times like this.

He felt Bobby appear at his shoulder just as Myles caught Tara's shoulder and swept her ankles, and she went down hard. The move didn't look quite right, and the notion was confirmed as he saw Myles' eyes widen in shock. Jack held his breath as the blond agent came within a hair's-breadth of her trachea before he caught his balance and somersaulted over and away, landing on his back not a foot from her.

"What's he doing? He could have killed her!" Bobby took a step toward them, but Jack stopped him.

"Take it easy, Crash," he said. "That was an accident."

"But—"

"I've heard her gripe about her workouts with you, Bobby." Jack leaned back against the doorway and crossed his arms. "She's not made of glass. Myles takes her seriously, and he treats her the way she wants to be treated— like an agent first."

Tara was still stunned from the landing, and she glanced over as Myles sat up, his breath coming hard. "No wonder it took you so long to get a girlfriend, Myles, if this is how you meet women."

He turned quickly and focused on her. "Are you all right, Tara?" he asked, obviously shaken.

"Well, that depends," she said, a bit unsteadily, as she looked up at the ceiling. "Are there little cartoon birds circling about a foot above my face?"

He smiled, though his face was about four shades paler. "No."

"Oh. Then I guess I'm okay." She sat up slowly.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't realize you'd dropped your guard that much." He drew a hand across his eyes. "I could have killed you."

She put a hand on his arm. "Myles, it's ok. You didn't, for which I'm grateful, and now we both know not to discuss any more of your bright ideas while we're sparring. Let it go."

It took several minutes, but eventually she saw him relax and the color returned to his face. "If you're sure you're ok."

She glared at him. "You're starting to sound like Bobby. I'm fine."

"Ok, ok." He held up his hands in surrender. "So, what do you say? Want to play the Bohemian jewelry artist with some questionable ethics?"

She looked a little doubtful. "And why can't Sue do this one?"

"Don't tell her I said this," he grinned, "but somehow I think she comes across a bit… wholesome… for a role like this."

"And I don't?" Tara slugged him on the shoulder. "I think I should be insulted. But ok; you've got your partner." As he signed CHAMP, she laughed. "Bobby's right; it is like being in the Twilight Zone. But it's a good trip there."

Whatever they were talking about, the crisis seemed to be over, so Jack started over toward them. Bobby outpaced him, though, and Jack realized that the Aussie was still planning to light into Myles. If he hadn't been watching so closely, he'd have missed it; as Myles helped Tara to her feet, he glanced up and his fingers flashed B-O-B-B-Y. Jack could almost picture the lethal grin on his computer expert's face as she set herself very subtly.

The Aussie reached her and draped an arm over her shoulder, shooting a glare at Myles in the same motion. "That was—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled, taking a step forward and dropping into a crouch as she did so; caught totally off-guard, his own weight pulled him over her and onto the mat with a thud. His breath came out in a rush and he grunted as her knee landed in the middle of his chest.

Myles started laughing; Bobby shook his head a bit, trying to get over both the shock and the landing. Jack walked over to them and looked down at the tall Aussie.

"Where's a surveillance camera when you need one?" His own lips were trying to hold back a grin and failing miserably.

"Woah." Bobby looked up at the dark eyes gleaming at him in utter triumph. "Remind me to never sneak up on you."

Tara pointed a finger into his face. "More like remind you to quit treating me like I'm porcelain when we're sparring."

"After that landing? No worries." He took the hand she offered and sat up, then looked behind him. "Is there a permanent imprint in the mat?"

"Yeah," Jack grinned. "Right next to the one Myles left the first time she did that to him. And the one D left, and me…"

Tara grabbed her towel off the bench and swung it around her neck. "Now you're just trying to flatter me. I think I wore Myles out. Who's next?"


&
Dillingham Residence, Georgetown

Monday, 7 p.m.

"You don't have to do that," Elizabeth smiled. "I'm perfectly capable of loading my own dishwasher."

Myles put the last cup in and closed the appliance door. "Look, you clean my kitchen half the time. I'm just returning the favor." He pushed the start button and then came over and leaned on the counter across from her, taking her hand. "Besides, after that session today with Dan, I think you're entitled to a night off."

She smiled brightly. "I'm glad you were there; both in the session, and then in my head while I was under hypnosis. Best to have my 'gallant knight' nearby when facing the dragon. And it really feels like I'm…" She colored slightly as he cleared his throat and eyed her. "Like we're finally almost free of him."

"I know." He walked around the kitchen island, still holding her hand, and pulled her into his arms. "And it's a good feeling." His fingers trailed over her cheeks, sliding around to cup his hands around her head and pull her toward him, tasting her lips gently at first, then—

The phone rang, breaking the moment rather rudely. "So help me," Myles murmured against her lips, "if that's Sam…"

Elizabeth laughed as she picked up the phone. "Hello? Hey, Tara, what's—" She stopped abruptly and listened for a moment, her eyes clouding with concern. "Oh, dear. Calm down, Tara, it's ok. This was bound to come up sooner or later. Where is he now?"

Myles pulled back to look at her. "Sam? What's going on?"

ONE MINUTE, Elizabeth signed, still listening. "Would you like us to come over? Sure, it's no problem at all. Sit tight." She hung up the phone and sighed, leaning her head against Myles' shoulder.

"What?" The blue-grey eyes were almost charcoal in his concern.

She sighed again. "A little damage control is all, love. Come on; I'll tell you on the way across the street."


&
"This can't be happening." Tara was seated in one of the armchairs she and Sam had shopped for together; the Southwestern print was bold enough for Sam's personality, but it still fit with the country feel of the house. Just looking at it made her heart wrench to think they'd reached an impasse. "This absolutely cannot be happening. Not now; not after we've come so far…"

Elizabeth slipped an arm over her friend's shoulder as she sat down on the arm of the chair. "Tara, you don't know that anything is 'happening' yet. Just calm down and tell us what happened."

The petite agent sighed and sat back. "All I did was tell Sam that I wouldn't be available on Friday night, because I had an undercover assignment. He was disappointed, but he was fine until I told him it was important he remember, because I wasn't going to be in the van this time." She smiled a little. "He's forgotten before and called me during a surveillance."

"Then what happened?" Myles' voice said he knew already.

"He went through the roof," Tara replied. "Well, for Sam, anyway. He got all quiet and wanted to know whose bright idea that was, and when I tried to explain that I'm just as trained for this as any of the rest of you, he just stood up and said 'I need a minute.' Then he disappeared upstairs." She slapped her hand against the dark green upholstery. "Myles, I'm sick of having to defend my abilities over and over and over. To you guys at work, to every guy I've ever dated… sick of it."

"Tara," he sighed, sitting down on the coffee table so that he was facing her, "it's not about your abilities; it never has been. And I think you know that. It's about an instinctive desire to protect a lady we're all quite fond of. Just a guy thing that will probably never change. But it's not just that here. I'll guarantee you, as surely as I know him, that this is about fear— and that's something Sam's all too familiar with."

"He's right, Tara," Elizabeth agreed softly. "Sam's going through the same thing I did with Myles and that case with my grandfather, with one marked difference. I was a part of that operation, got to see first-hand what was going on, not that it lessened my fears at all. But Sam doesn't even have that option; he has only his own ideas of what will happen, and the thought of losing you is terrifying to him. He just got his life on track, and now something is threatening it, in his mind, anyway."

"His imagination will do far worse than anything we'll face in this simple meet," Myles continued. "Let me go talk to him."

Tara looked up, her eyes troubled. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Myles. I told him who's 'bright idea' it was— I don't think he's any happier with you right now than he is with me. You might end up on the wrong end of a right hook."

Elizabeth couldn't resist. "After the workout you got today, I don't know if you could handle that."

Despite the circumstances, her comment brought laughs from both Myles and Tara. "Very funny," Myles retorted; then he sobered. "No, I don't think he'd ever take a swing at anyone; not after Matthews. I'm more concerned that he'll shut down on me again. But we have to do something. I'll be right back." He stood and went upstairs.

The psychologist squeezed Tara's shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. We'll get this worked out."


&
A light tap on the doorsill brought Sam's head up; his blue eyes darkened as he saw his twin. "Reinforcements, I see?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice. "Come to tell me I'm yet again being irrational about something in my life? Already had that sermon, bro— not buying." He sat up from where he'd been sprawled across his bed. Glorfindel was asleep on one of the pillows.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay." Myles purposely kept his voice neutral as he sat down on the cushioned window seat off to Sam's right. "Understand you had a bit of a row."

"You could say that." Sam flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. ""You know, if it weren't for the flashback I know would happen, you'd be on the floor about now with a sore jaw. Mind telling me what possessed you to drag Tara onto the front lines?"

"My job. And hers." Myles folded his arms across his chest and waited until his brother's gaze swung around. "She doesn't have that nine-millimeter at her hip just for show, Sam. She's a fully-trained agent, and that includes undercover work."

"But—"

"But nothing, Sam," his twin replied. "Look, I know you'd like me to sugar-coat this for you and let her stay in the van, but the truth is I need help at this stage of the game, and she's the best person to do it."

He took a breath. "Sue can't do this one— wrong look for what we need— nor should she have to. She's not an Agent, though heaven knows she's certainly logged enough field hours for one. Leaving Tara in the van all the time isn't fair; in fact, it's an insult to all her training and expertise."

Sam stared at him for a long time; when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "So I'm basically being a jerk for giving her grief about it."

Myles shook his head. "No, Sam," he sighed, "not a jerk. That you reacted the way you did shows how much you care about her. Unfortunately, Tara's had to put up with guys 'caring' her whole career, and to her it feels like we don't think she can do the job. Which she can, believe me."

"So what do I do?" Sam demanded after a moment's thought, sitting up again. With a pensive frown, he added, "How do I keep us both happy?"

"Twin, if I knew the answer to that, she'd quit yelling at us when we do the same thing to her." Myles leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Seriously, though? I guess it boils down to what are you willing to do? But that's something you need to figure out later. Right now, you've got her downstairs stressed out over this immediate case. That's the first hurdle. So tell me straight: this scares you to death, doesn't it?"

Sam looked down at the bed, and after a long silence, finally whispered, "Yeah. It does. I mean, things are good right now. Life feels like it's actually mine again. And she's a big part of that." He picked up volume and momentum as he continued. "What if she gets hurt? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong and—"

Myles held up a hand to cut him off before he could get completely wound up. "Sam, there are 'what ifs' in every part of life. You know that. We've dealt with so much of that over the course of the past twenty-two years... what if I hadn't run off and left you there by yourself? What if Dad had taken us with him? What if we'd tried this or that to find you?"

He sighed. "We deal with them every day at work. What if we don't get this guy in time? What if we miss something, and a bomb goes off or a terrorist kills ten thousand people? What if one of Elizabeth's patients goes berserk on her and strangles her in her office? It'll drive you nuts if you let it, Sam."

"So what do I do?" Sam repeated, looking up. "I should probably apologize...or...I don't know. I want a fast forward button," he moaned, running a hand through his hair.

The comment brought a soft chuckle from his twin. "So you know how the movie's going to turn out? There are times I wish the same thing. But I think she just needs to know how you feel. There's nothing wrong with the fear, Sam. You're doing fine— you didn't go off on her right to her face, and you didn't shut down and go hide. You simply took a break to think things out. Now, you just need to let her know that you're still there. She's afraid this is going to become a barrier, just like it has with every other guy she's ever dated."

"I don't want to be every guy she's ever dated." Sam replied almost immediately, lowering his hand and looking at Myles. "And I don't want this to be a barrier, either. I'll talk to her..." He paused. "I just...I need to think of what I'm gonna say. But promise me you'll keep an eye on her?"

"I promise," was the sober reply. Then the blue-grey eyes of his twin twinkled with humor. "Although, after that sparring session this afternoon, she's more likely to be keeping an eye on me."