Resolutions – 16

Turning Point

by MMB

It was seven-thirty in the morning, and Chip Harrison was exhausted. He'd been up all night coordinating the search for Dr. Green and still needed to call in the Blue Cove PD for assistance now that his search teams had come up empty. He'd also taken several reports on the accident on a Virginia highway that had landed one sweeper in the hospital with complications from a serious concussion and another man in the morgue. Finally, the last hour or so had been spent reviewing the DSA from an abandoned lab on SL-18 and sending off a team of sweepers to open that private safe one way or the other and confiscate whatever was hidden inside it. The MOMENT Sam Atlee walked through that doorway, he promised himself, he was on his way home to a nice, quiet, soft, comfortable bed.

The doorway to the Security Control office burst open and Miss Parker swept in, looking as fresh as a new penny and with intent on her somber face. "Talk to me," she stated with no greeting whatsoever. "What news of Sydney?"

Chip sorted through the paperwork on the desk. "Well, near as we can figure, he bought himself two bottles of whiskey at the liquor store nearest his house at about four-thirty in the afternoon. The clerk there said that he was polite, rather curt, and drove off in a hurry once his business there was concluded. And that," he tossed the report back on the desk, "was the last anybody's seen of him."

"Did you ask the Blue Cove PD to put out an APB on Sydney's car?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I was hoping that the four teams I've had combing the immediate area all night would find it and him first, BEFORE we had to involve any police. I was going to call just before you came in." He watched his boss' face fall slightly — obviously she had been hoping for some good news. "I'm sorry, Miss Parker. It's been busy night here — I wish I had better news for you."

Miss Parker pinched the skin above her nose and stood for a moment with her eyes closed. "What else? You said it was a busy night…"

"We had an intruder in one of the abandoned labs on SL-18," he told her, handing her two still photographs that had been taken from the DSA. "Seems Dr. Ziegler wanted to check up on things he'd left down there."

She looked closely at the one photograph. "Is that a safe he's opening?"

"Yup," he nodded. "I sent a team down as soon as I saw the video to break into it and remove whatever he's got locked up in it."

Her grey eyes pinned him. "Is the surveillance for Dr. Ziegler in place and functional? I don't see…"

"I conferred with the team leader. They decided, when they saw where he was headed, to hang back while he was in the Centre itself, knowing that the cameras were already in place and functional again. They didn't want to give away their presence…"

"OK, OK," she waved her hand and dismissed the question. "We'll need to make sure we have all his lines of communication wired — we have a tap on the cell number assigned to him?"

Harrison nodded. "We taped a conversation between Ziegler and a Captain Lewis where Ziegler told Lewis he could start the moment he got 'the rest of it' back — I'm assuming he's speaking of the rest of the Black Hole research data. Lewis told Ziegler that there was going to be a slight delay to make sure 'other mistakes' didn't put us on a higher alert."

"The INS raid," she breathed.

"He said 'mistakes' — plural. God knows what else has been set in motion." Harrison's dark eyes were glued to her face. "I'll have a transcript for you and Mr. Atlee before I leave."

"That's it, I hope…"

"Nope," he reported unhappily. "The sweeper team coming back from White Cloud were involved in an accident on the mountain road in Virginia — one is hospitalized, the other just a bit bruised around the edges. The driver of the other vehicle went off the road and was killed."

"You HAVE had a busy night," Miss Parker said in surprise, then sighed. "OK. I want to know what the sweepers find in that safe down in Ziegler's office and I want regular updates on the search for Sydney."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else you want me to pass along to Sam when he gets here?"

"No," she answered, feeling tired already and not even having made it to her own office yet that morning. "Just to keep me personally informed on all fronts." She looked down at her Assistant Security Chief with an understanding look on her face. "And get some rest. You look like you've been dragged through a knothole."

For some odd reason, her noticing that he was tired felt like a compliment. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

"He's not in his office, and he's not at home." Sylvie Gotham's head poked around the corner of Chuck Whelan's office. "You want us to place an APB on his car?"

Chuck didn't need to think for long. "Yeah. Call both the DC and Maryland authorities — I want this guy found." He stood up. "Then come meet me in his office. Let's see what this nondescript little accountant of ours has been up to." He frowned when his secretary's head replaced that of his agent. "What is it, Ann?"

"There are some FBI agents here to see you in regards to a Mr. Phillip Baldwin who works here," she announced, obviously wondering whether she needed to try to figure out a way to send agents of another governmental bureau packing.

Chuck sat down heavily. "Send them in," he sighed. "Sylvie?" he called out.

Her head reappeared. "Yeah?"

"Tear Phil's office apart. Go through his files. I want to know everything this man has been working on for the last six weeks, and I want to know it before lunchtime."

"I don't think so," Tom Gillespie said from behind Sylvie, "unless you'd like to do so against a federal search warrant."

Chuck looked from Sylvie's expectant face to the dour one of the FBI agent who had spoken and then waved all of them into his office. "Hang on, Sylvie, until we hear what the man has to say." He turned skeptical eyes on the newcomer. "Now, what's this all about?"

"We are investigating allegations of congressional misconduct and misuse of authority, and we have a federal search warrant to cover the contents of the office of a Phillip Baldwin," Gillespie announced curtly. "Now if you'll show us…"

"Wait a minute…" Chuck held up his hand. "What does Phil have to do with congressional misconduct?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whelan, but I'm not at liberty to discuss the particulars of the case with you," the FBI agent answered apologetically. "May we see Mr. Baldwin's office now?"

Chuck looked directly at Sylvie. "I want you to be present during the search and make sure that any records these agents remove are copied. You see," he turned back to Gillespie, "you're stepping on an internal investigation here of Mr. Baldwin. He's suspected of attempting to instigate a frivolous investigation of foreign espionage ties to two ladies who have no obvious ties to anyone under suspicion. We've been hearing the buzz about INS being sent on a similarly frivolous raid…"

"Involving the Centre?" Gillespie asked point-blank.

"As a matter of fact…" Chuck gaped. "I wonder…"

"When it comes to things dealing with the Centre, having cause to wonder is cause for suspicion," Gillespie's brows furled. "We may be working two sides of the same case here."

"Give me the name and number of your direct superior, Agent," Chuck put out his hand demandingly. "If your interests and mine coincide, then it would be better if we worked together."

"That would be nice," Gillespie commented dryly and pulled a business card from his wallet and wrote down a name and phone number on the back. "Keep me in the loop, will you?"

"Don't worry, Agent. You'll know what I know when I get done," Chuck promised and then waved the group from his office. He put the card down on his desk and carefully dialed the number written there. "I need to speak to Assistant Director Berghoff. This is Chuck Whelan over at NSA. Yes, I'll hold…"

"Doug, this is George Canfield…"

"Damn it! You're not supposed to be calling me here…"

"Have you heard anything from Phil?"

Curtis scowled. "No, of course not. What would I have heard from Phil about — we just had a meeting…"

"My contact at the NSA office told me about a pair of FBI agents with a warrant to search his office — something about allegations of congressional misconduct…" Canfield ran his finger around his collar, wishing he hadn't tied his tie quite so tightly that morning. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not a peep from that quarter. Heard from Lewis this morning, however — seems our friend in the Centre is willing to start Black Hole back up again at virtually a moment's notice. I'm going to be making arrangements for that part of the data to be delivered at the man's house later this afternoon." Curtis handed the orders for Lewis to make the arrangements to his secretary with a mouthed, "Fax that over, Donna, will you?"

"What if they're onto him for what he did with the INS and at his own agency?" Canfield worried into his confederate's ear. "He has enough in his files…"

"Look," Curtis barked. "Phil is no dummy. He probably doesn't keep anything incriminating in the office — and God only knows where he keeps the rest of our records. If we don't know where to look for them, no idiot at the FBI will either."

"But I can't raise Phil at home OR at the office. You don't think he would have bugged out on us, would he?" Canfield pressed.

The question caught Curtis by surprise. "You know, I don't know whether he would or not," he admitted. "He's a secretive little bastard — I never was very happy when Harry brought him into the group. Neither Tom nor I have ever trusted him entirely."

"What do we do if he HAS bugged out? HE'S the one with all the money and financial connections, you know… How do we expect to pay the man to put Black Hole back into production if our money supplier has up and vanished?"

"Look, don't get your panties in a wad. Call Harry and find out if HE knows anything. Don't push any panic buttons until we know for sure the theater's on fire. Got it?"

"Damn it, Doug…"

"I mean it, George. Call Harry — and then leave a message at the regular place. DON'T call me at work again!"

Curtis slammed the telephone back into its cradle. They were SO close — they couldn't afford anybody starting to unravel now…

Crystal jerked awake with the sound of vehicle doors slamming and almost fell off of the crate she'd curled up on. She blinked a couple of times and then looked around her in alarm. She'd slept too late — morning light was streaming in the high windows of the warehouse. The workers would be coming into the warehouse any minute — and she was still there!

She jumped down from her crate and steadied herself against it when a wave of dizziness swept over her. She'd forgotten in her panic that she'd been hurt – and now her head felt like it wanted to explode again. The pain in her head and the fact that she couldn't see out of her left eye reminded her of everything that had happened the night before, and she scurried to the side of the man on the thin mattress. He too had curled onto his side in an attempt to keep warm in the chill of the Delaware darkness.

"Hey!" she whispered urgently, putting her hand on his side and shaking him — and then drawing back in disgust at the wetness that she'd put her hands in. She stared for a moment at the blood and then rolled the man over on his back. His eyes fluttered and finally opened, and she slapped her hand over his mouth just before he let loose with a groan. "We've got to get out of here – NOW!" she whispered at him and pulled at his hand. "If you think Scooter did a number on you last night, you don't want THESE guys to lay a hand on you this morning — believe me!" She pulled and yanked and finally motivated the sleepy, uncoordinated and only partly cooperative man to once more get up on his good knee and then lurch to his feet clumsily.

With an eye for any stray dock workers, Crystal led Sydney back out through the side of the warehouse and across the asphalt to the curbing, where he stopped short and almost pulled her off her feet. Removing his hand from hers and bending over at the waist with his hands on his thighs, he shook his head. "I can't go any further."

"You have to," she insisted in a hiss. "You do NOT want those guys to beat you up. You already look like shit warmed over on a stick — so trust me, they won't hesitate at all."

"My knee…" he gasped in real pain.

"Damn it!" Crystal breathed out in angry frustration and slipped her shoulder under his arm on his bad side. "Here," she grumbled. "Lean on me and let's haul ass."

Sydney sighed. The girl wasn't taking no for an answer for anything. He leaned hard on her shoulder and felt her stumble a little. "I'll only slow you down," he said, balking again. "Leave me — get yourself away."

"Would you shut up and quit stalling?" she bit off at him. "Give me some credit — I wouldn't leave a mongrel dog to those jerks. Now MOVE IT!"

Slowly, clumsily, with many stops and stumbles and several more barbed verbal prods, Crystal managed to get Sydney to put one foot in front of the other down the dock and around the corner onto a quiet street. She kept him moving until she'd found an alleyway that looked like a reasonably safe place to rest, then found an empty doorway in which to let him drop to a sitting position. Incredibly weary chestnut eyes peered blearily up into her bruised and swollen face. "You're a very stubborn child," he commented with a slight slur behind the panting that came from exertion he was no longer used to, "And you're hurt. You need to see a doctor."

"You're the one that's bleeding, mister, not me," Crystal pointed out with an index finger not quite touching the blood-soaked shirt, not quite knowing how to feel about someone noticing her pains and injuries before acknowledging their own. "I want you to stay put. I'm going to go get help."

"You don't have to…"

"Look," she grumbled, crouching down in front of him, "I don't know you from Adam, but you don't strike me as the kind of person who normally runs around the bad side of town drunk as a skunk in the middle of the night, getting themselves mugged. And I don't see how what Scooter did should have made you bleed like that. You need help…"

Those weary eyes caught at hers again. "And just to whom are you going to go, eh?" He shook a shaking finger at her. "I doubt that you'll be wanting to just walk into the police station looking like that…" He nodded very carefully when he saw her look down. "You see? Don't worry about me. Leave me here and get yourself away to someplace safe – someplace where this Scooter of yours can't find you again. You can do better than him, you know…"

"Who's Kevin?" Crystal demanded suddenly. If he knew the Kevin that lived on the other side of the park, then she didn't need to even think about going to the police and avoiding one set of questions to get him some help.

Sydney blinked in astonishment. "What did you say?"

"I asked you who Kevin was? You were talking in your sleep last night, and you mentioned his name – along with a few others. So…" She looked at him with raised brows, obviously waiting for a reply.

He let his gaze drop from hers to watch a piece of litter dance against the curbing near the street. "Just a young man I know." It was a half-truth, at least.

Crystal scowled. "You know, even with only one eye working right I can see that you're a piss-poor liar, mister." She got to her feet. "I'm going to be gone for a while, but I'll be back."

"I appreciate the thought – I really do – but you don't have to do anything, my dear," Sydney said gently. "You do what you need to do to take care of yourself. Don't worry about me."

"And you called ME stubborn," Crystal shook her head. This man had an interesting accent that she couldn't quite place, and an easy manner about him that she was finding genuinely refreshing. He was a lot like Kevin…

THAT was who he reminded her of! She turned on her heel and began walking toward the street and the park on the other side of town. Kevin had a manner very similar to this man's.

She knew she looked like Hell, and that she'd probably burned a lot of her bridges with the young man, from the things he'd tossed at her yesterday. But if this was someone that he knew – maybe someone that he cared for… Well, he'd asked her to prove that she was worth bothering with…

Deb found moving that morning an interesting reminder of what she'd been up to in the night as she discovered that muscles she didn't even know she had were aching slightly. Her steps were a little slower, and she knew that it had caught Kevin's attention as she walked across his bedroom with as much dignity as she could manage in the nude after collecting her discarded clothes from his floor. "Are you OK?" he asked, from the edge of the bed where he was slipping into boxers and jeans again.

"I'm fine," she told him over her shoulder and slipped down the hall to her bedroom for a fresh set of clothes for the day.

Not waiting to put on tee shirt or shoes, he padded after her and stood in the doorway, watching her slip into a bathrobe. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Kevin – I'm fine. Really!" she answered back, collecting clothing and then moving toward him and the door. "I need to take a shower because I have to work at the library this afternoon, you know," she told him with a finger in the center of his chest, pushing him backwards.

He was confused. "Is this how it works, then?" he asked quietly. "We get up in the morning after… THAT… and act as if nothing happened?"

Deb stopped and turned around and walked back to him. "We both know something happened," she told him gently, a hand on his chest. "I'm not acting as if nothing happened – it was too important to me." She stretched up and planted another kiss on his lips that was filled with restrained passion. "I just want a little while by myself to think, you know? Decide what happens next. You have to admit, last night was a little… unexpected…"

"What do you mean, 'decide what happens next?' What DOES happen next? Don't we…" He cast around for the few examples of what kind of behavior followed a night like they'd just spent. "Don't we get married or something?"

"Marriage is a big thing, Kevin," she replied, leaning into him slightly and smiling softly to herself at his refreshing naïveté. "I don't think that's something that we should make a decision about after knowing each other for only two weeks and sleeping together for a single night – no matter how good that one night was."

Kevin's face fell. "Then what kind of decision do you need to make if not about getting married? That we need to get to know each other better first… spend more time together…?"

She patted his chest reassuringly. "Don't worry – I have no doubt that we'll be spending plenty of time together from now on – although whether Grandpa will be very happy about it when he gets home will be something else altogether. I… we… need to think about that – because he WILL be home eventually, and so will my Dad. They both were SO protective of me back when I was dating…"

"Oh boy," Kevin mumbled in some alarm. "They'll probably be furious with me for…"

Deb grabbed his upper arm firmly. "Listen to me. What we did last night, we did together. You aren't any more to blame than I am – and I'll be damned if I'll let you get any more chewed on than I get. I love you," she stretched up and kissed him again, "and we're in this together now, you and I. I'm not sorry we made love last night, Kevin – not one bit."

"I'm still dead," Kevin knew instinctively. "Sydney warned me…"

"Don't tell me you're regretting it now," Deb asked softly with eyes wide and vulnerable.

Kevin's arms swept around the velour bathrobe and pulled her close to him so he could nuzzle her neck, relishing again the press of her body against his. "Only insofar as I've gotten you into trouble with your father and grandfather. For myself, I'm not sorry either. I never knew I could love someone so much."

"Then don't worry about Grandpa and Daddy – I can take care of myself with those two," Deb reassured him as she leaned a little, and then pushed herself out of his arms again. "But, you see, there really are a few other things I need to think about – plans I have to make. When I used to think about my future, you weren't in it – college, a career – and now I need to see how I feel about things I've taken for granted for a long time with you in the picture." She stretched up and deposited a kiss on his cheek. "Let me take a shower while you get some breakfast around. We'll talk when I come down again. I promise." And with that, she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her.

Kevin stared at the closed door for a long moment. It was a revelation to think that Deb had to rethink her entire future to include him. Back in the house with Vernon, he'd only been able to know that each day would be exactly like the next. Since he'd been liberated, his days had been so unpredictable he'd not even tried to plan from one day to the next. But Deb had had long-term goals and plans – many of which evidently would need rethinking.

No wonder Sydney had warned him that taking this step would open a whole new world of troubles and possibilities! And his mentor's warning hadn't even touched on the nightmare that Deb had refused to discuss as yet. About the only thing that kept him from worrying about the shape of her private thoughts was the fact that she'd said clearly that her plans needed reworking to include HIM. That she loved him and they were 'in this together.'

He sighed and went back into his room to throw on a clean tee shirt and toss yesterday's clothing into the hamper before heading downstairs to get breakfast around for the two of them, as she had suggested.

Colonel Fox held a copy of the fax that General Curtis had just sent to Captain Lewis out to Admiral Samson, and then he waited while the Admiral read that missive and the one he'd handed him earlier – a transcript of the taped conversation between General Curtis and a man identified by the trace on the phone call as George Canfield, Senator from Montana – very carefully. "I take it you have a surveillance team on Captain Lewis?" the Admiral asked slowly.

"Yes, sir. I'd just like your permission to apprehend Captain Lewis with the missing documents from the Pentagon archive in hand, sir – and hopefully with the rest of it too."

"Do we have enough on these military jokers to put them away?" Samson asked, putting the fax on his desk and folding his hands over it.

"Between phone tap and DNA evidence gathered from Colonel Stiller's knife – which came in last night late with a positive match – we have them on, depending on who we're talking about here, conspiracy, conduct unbecoming, theft of government property, battery… And that's just for starters. We catch Lewis with the stolen archive data, we have possession of stolen property and even more evidence of conspiracy." Fox clasped his hands behind his back and assumed an at ease posture in front of the Admiral. "I'm not sure that we're going to have a much better opportunity to reclaim those files and find out just what the hell these guys have been up to, sir – which could amount to breaking any number of international treaties, not to mention slop over into treason in places."

Admiral Samson leaned back in his chair and rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully as he pondered the situation. "I tend to agree with you, Colonel. Alright – you have my permission to execute a search warrant and an arrest warrant on Captain Lewis the moment you are certain that he has at least part of the missing documentation in his possession. Just make sure that he DOES have it before you move on him – we tip our hand NOW without adequate justification, we give notice to the rest of the pack to start cutting bait and running. Do you catch my drift, son?"

"Yes, sir!" Fox understood completely. There was another whole side to this investigation that he wasn't even privy to except what the Admiral shared with him. He didn't want to jeopardize that at all. "We want him red-handed – and we'll wait until we KNOW we have him red-handed before we move, sir."

"Dismissed," Samson saluted the Colonel and then reached for his telephone while the man strode briskly from his office. "Jenny, call the office of Senator Ashland and ask her for me if she's free for lunch – tell the secretary or whoever you speak to here that it's VERY important that I speak with her right away."

"Yes, sir," his secretary replied.

Samson rose and walked slowly to look out the window of his office onto the center green of the Pentagon building. His main concern now was whether or not the civil end of this skunk hunt was ready for the shit to hit the rotating blades. Once they started to round up the military end of this little escapade, he knew the civvies involved in the conspiracy were bound to try to dart for their rabbit holes. And that couldn't be allowed to happen. They needed to catch ALL of them, at once.

"Miss Parker, Mr. Atlee's here to see you," Mei-Chiang announced over the intercom.

"Send him right in!" she replied and closed the folder that she was reading as she waited for her Security Chief to come through the door. "What's the news?" she demanded the moment the door was closed behind him. His face was somber, and she caught her breath. "Oh God, please don't tell me…"

"North Carolina State Troopers just faxed a report to the Blue Cove PD, and the PD called me. Sydney's car has been found – they arrested a young punk for speeding and reckless driving. In the back seat was one of the bottles of whiskey that Sydney bought, along with the receipt. The bottle was empty – and the punk isn't talking. Turns out the punk is wanted in Boston and Dover both for car theft and assault and battery." Sam put out his hands in a gesture of defeat. "No Sydney — just his keys in the ignition."

"Where the hell IS he?" Miss Parker demanded in anxious frustration and rose to pace back and forth behind her desk. "A grown man can't just up and vanish…"

"Jarod did a very good job of it back when, ma'am," Sam reminded her cautiously, knowing that she wasn't in the mood for being contradicted very much at the moment. "And we know who taught Jarod everything he knows."

She sighed and stopped her pacing with one hand on her hip and one pinching the skin over her nose again. "I know, I know. But if he wasn't in the car in North Carolina, then he could still be here – close." She looked up at him. "Send out more sweepers. I want Blue Cove combed like it's never been combed before. Go door to door, literally. And when you're done combing Blue Cove, fan out into the outlying area. There's a lot of empty beach and back roads that he might have been taken down by that little bastard…"

"What if we aren't finding him because he doesn't want to be found?" Sam asked quietly, voicing the unspeakable.

Miss Parker sat down in her chair and put her face in her hands at her desk. "I don't know that Sydney is capable enough of clear thinking right now to know WHAT he wants or doesn't want," she stated tiredly. "I do know that he needs to be back on that damned couch in the den, taking care of his leg and holding us all together." She raised her head and looked at her Security Chief and friend. "I hadn't realized how much we all depend on him until just today – he's Deb's hope for sanity, Kevin's guide to a normal life, Davy's mentor AND grandfather…"

"And you depend on him as much as any of the rest of them," Sam said softly and then shrugged at her when her expression changed to one of surprise. "I'm not unobservant, Miss Parker. I can see how things are."

"I know you do," she replied, her face softer. "I think I depend on you too – and Broots – as much as I do Syd." And before Sam could start to squirm in embarrassment, she said, "Thanks for the update, Sam. Now — what's the news on Ziegler?"

"No movement on that front for the moment," he shook his head at her. "I'll let you know if I hear anything." He looked down at her. "We'll find him, Miss Parker."

"Soon, Sam. Please? Soon?"

He couldn't answer that.

Chuck Whelan picked up the telephone. "NSA. Whelan."

"This is Sergeant John Wilkes, Virginia State Trooper. I understand that you have a man by the name of Phillip Baldwin working for you?"

Chuck sighed. "It seems that the whole nation is wanting a piece of Phil Baldwin today," he commented dryly. "Yes, he works for me."

"Do you know if he has any next of kin?" Wilkes' voice inquired in a quiet and businesslike tone.

"Next of kin?" Chuck started. "What has happened?"

"Mr. Baldwin's SUV swerved off a mountain road late last night. Mr. Baldwin was killed on impact. Now, as to my question…"

"Where was this accident?" Chuck was taking notes quickly.

"White Cloud Lake Road."

"Officer Wilkes, as an agent of the National Security Agency, I'm officially requesting that you seal the accident scene and all personal effects of Mr. Baldwin pending the arrival of one of my agents and an agent of the FBI. Is that clear?"

"No, sir. All I wanted was…"

"I'll see to it that my people have all the information about Mr. Baldwin that you'll need to know for your report. Your primary task now is to make certain that no unauthorized person touches that accident scene or Mr. Baldwin's vehicle. Is that clear?"

"Sir…"

"Give me your superior, Sergeant," Chuck sighed and then waved frantically through his office door for the first person to pay attention to him to approach. He covered the phone's mouthpiece. "Go notify Agent Gotham and Agent Gillespie of the FBI that I need to speak to them immediately. Place a seal on Phil Baldwin's office and assign a guard. Only Agents Gotham and Gillespie will be allowed to re-enter."

"Mr. Whelan, my name is Gary Lovett, and I'm the Captain of the Virginia State Troopers' substation in…"

"Look, I don't care where you are. I am an agent of the National Security Agency. A man being sought by my office and the FBI was just killed in a traffic accident on…" He consulted his notes. "…White Cloud Lake Road. I want that accident scene sealed until my people can get there. This is a matter of national security, Captain."

"I don't know if I can do that without…" the Captain hedged.

"I'll have a warrant for you when my people get there, if that's the issue. It will be a federal warrant – and it will cover the accident scene and all personal effects of Mr. Baldwin, whether in the car still or on his person when he arrived at the hospital DOA. Where is the vehicle in question now?"

"Still halfway down the mountainside," Captain Lovett answered in surprise. "It's gonna take the tow truck at least another half-hour to get up there and get set up to pull it up the side of the mountain."

"Leave it where it is, Captain," Chuck ordered firmly. "I want my people to see it in place."

"If that's what you want…" The State Trooper didn't sound very convinced, but: "As long as you or your people have a valid warrant with you when you get here…"

"We'll be on our way immediately," Chuck said quickly. "You can expect Agents Gotham of my office and Gillespie of the FBI."

"I'll take note of that," Lovett drawled slowly.

Gotham and Gillespie were waiting outside his office as he hung up the phone. "Well?" Sylvie asked.

"Phil's dead," Chuck announced with no introduction. "Killed in a traffic accident in Virginia. He was on a White Cloud Lake Road – Sylvie, check and see whether he owned any property up in that area, and then you and Gillespie get your butts up there. I've had the troopers seal the accident scene – I'm betting that he was spooked by the failed INS raid and was going to ground, and that means that there's a good chance that he had the evidence we both are looking for either with him or where he was headed."

"I'm on it," Sylvie announced and headed past Gillespie back toward her own office.

"It couldn't be that easy, could it?" Gillespie asked rhetorically.

"Sure would be nice if something around here was for a change," Chuck sighed. "Lemme tell you, life in the 'spook' lane ain't all it's cracked up to be! A little bit of straightforward evidence and no landmine disclosures sure would make life a little easier right now…"

Crystal stared at the house across the street, noticing for the first time that the car at which Kevin had stood talking to the man inside was once more parked on the street – and the same man or someone who looked just like him was sitting there. The man looked as if he was reading a newspaper, but as she watched, he lifted his head often to gaze up the street and then tip his head so that he could use his mirror to check behind him. A bodyguard, she guessed, or somebody had a stakeout on the place.

Still, the old man she'd left behind in the alleyway behind the old diner needed help, if the bleeding was any indication. Not exactly sure if this was the wisest way to go about things, she took a deep breath to screw up her courage and started across the street toward the house. She could almost feel the eyes of the man in the car boring into her back as she walked up the driveway and then the sidewalk to the front door and then knocked.

It was a long moment before she heard the sounds of locks being disengaged on the door, which then opened to reveal a very surprised Kevin. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded with a scowl that turned slightly concerned. "And what the hell happened to you, anyhow?"

"Are you missing somebody you know?" Crystal asked, ignoring the second question.

"What do you mean, am I missing someone?" he asked back warily.

"Look," she moved her weight to one foot and planted one hand on a hip. "There's this guy – someone I know… kinda messed him up pretty bad – kicked him and knocked him around – and he needs some help."

"Kevin? Who is it?" asked a woman's voice from within the house, and Deb came up behind him and put a familiar hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," he replied gently and then turned back to Crystal. "Why the hell do you think I'd know this person?"

"Well, he talked in his sleep last night," she answered tiredly, "and I think he mentioned your name – along with a couple of others. Do you know of a Jacob – or a Jarod?"

"My God!" Deb breathed. "That must be Grandpa she's talking about!"

"Deb, get her cleaned up – I'm calling the Centre," Kevin exclaimed, grabbing Crystal's arm and pulling her into the house without warning.

"Kevin – let's just take her out to Joe and go get Grandpa," Deb urged, grabbing at Kevin's arm as he sped by. "If he's hurt…"

"He's hurt. He's bleeding here." Crystal put her hand on her side, right at about the same place that both young people knew that Sydney had been shot weeks earlier.

"C'mon!" Kevin grabbed Crystal's hand again and this time dragged her out the front door of the house and across the yard toward the car. "Joe!" he called. "She knows where Sydney is. We have to go find him…" He opened the passenger door and pushed Crystal inside, then opened the back door for both himself and Deb to climb into the back seat.

"Hop in," the sweeper said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed quickly. "Yeah – this is Joe on Washington Street, Mr. Atlee. We just had a report of someone who could match Sydney's description – we're going to check it out."

"Where the hell are you going?" Sam demanded.

"Where is he?" Joe turned to Kevin, who turned to Crystal.

"The alley behind the Morning Star Diner."

"In an alley," Joe reported. "I'll call back if it turns out to be…"

"Hurry!" Crystal urged the huge man, shaking his arm with a bravery she didn't know she had. "He's hurt."

Joe disconnected the call and put the car in gear, squealing the tires as he sped off.

Sam stared at the dead handset as if it could tell him whether it would be wiser to wait until he got Joe's report rather than raise Miss Parker's hopes, or whether it would be wiser for him to call her now so that she could be ready for whatever condition he'd be in when he was found – IF it was him at all.

Emily stared at her mother as if she'd just grown horns from her head. "You're doing what?"

Margaret took another sip of her coffee. "I said that I'm going to be going back to Delaware with Jarod for a little bit."

"WHY?" Emily moved slowly to the kitchen table and sat down slowly next to her mother. "You told me a long time ago that you never wanted to set foot in…"

"I know what I said, sweetheart," Margaret told her gently, putting a hand on her daughter's arm and patting it. "But considering everything else that's gone on lately, and considering that that's going to be where Jarod lives from now on, I think the time has come for me to make my peace with the place." She sipped on her coffee again. "And I've decided that I need to meet this Sydney that took care of Jarod all those years."

"And then chased him from on end of the country to the other for years…"

"Just like Missy did — and I thought you said you LIKED Missy." Margaret replied pointedly.

Emily blinked. "That's different."

"No, it's not." Margaret patted her arm again and then withdrew her hand. "If we were wrong about Missy, then it's possible that we were wrong about Sydney too. Jarod cared enough about him to go back to him after your father died — and even though it took me a long time to understand, now I know it was because Sydney is just as much a father to him as your father was. Maybe even more, because was he there while Jarod was growing up, and we weren't."

"That still doesn't explain…"

"Think, Em. If this Sydney is a decent enough character who just had the misfortune of working for the wrong people — if he did what he did because it was the only way he could see to protect him…"

Emily shook her head. "Mom, there IS no excuse for some of the things that man did — you've seen the DSA's, you know this."

Margaret drained the rest of her coffee and got up to put her cup in the sink. "I don't want to defend the man to you, Emily — I'm still not totally convinced he deserves any defense at all. But the only way for me to find THAT out for sure is to go there and meet him face to face — to see what he has to say for himself." She turned around to face her daughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Jarod said that Sydney recently found out that HIS life had been manipulated by the Centre when HE was younger too."

"Yeah, right…" Emily shook her head in disbelief and rose. "Look, I know you want to maybe see what kind of man it was that raised your son — and as a mother, I can appreciate why you feel you need to do this. But I'm not going to buy that anybody with a lick of decency in them would have done what he did — for as long as he did." She shook her head again and then sighed. "Whatever. How long are you going to be gone?"

"Just a week or so," Margaret replied, returning to her seat. "I'd like to help Sprite settle into her new home a little too, if truth be told." Her face grew soft. "I'm going to miss that little one — not to mention that I'm looking forward to getting to know Davy a little better too."

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Mom," Emily said in a warning tone. "Even IF the Centre isn't chasing us anymore, it seems that people to go to Delaware end up staying there permanently. THIS is our home now, you know…"

Margaret smiled as she realized that this was the first time that Emily had ever had to genuinely share her mother long-distance with another sibling. "I know it is, Em. And I'm coming home when my visit is concluded — and I have NO intentions of moving to Delaware to stay. I promise."

Emily cast a chocolate brown gaze of complete skepticism at her mother that so resembled Jarod's that Margaret's heart skipped a beat. "That's what Jarod said, just before he left. And we know how THAT turned out…"

Fox waited a full minute after Captain Lewis had disappeared into the self-storage yard before picking up his walkie-talkie. "Meyers, go into the office, show the man our warrant and find out which storage unit belongs to Lewis – quick!"

Meyers jumped from the passenger seat of their sedan and trotted into the storage facility office, then came trotting back out a short time later. "Unit 68 – down this line and just around the corner at the end to the right."

Fox maneuvered the car down the narrow lane between buildings until they were only a few yards from the end, at which point he parked and climbed out. Behind him, a pair of MPs clambered from the sedan that had followed close on his bumper. Together, the four men moved quietly up to the corner and let Fox peek around the edge of the metal building. A doorway stood open next to Lewis' parked car, with no sign of the Captain.

Fox signaled, and the MP's moved quietly out and around the parked vehicle so that they were on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for Fox's signal. Fox and Meyers slipped up to the door. Inside the small room they could hear the sounds of rummaging and a brief swear word. Fox nodded, and all of them pulled out their revolvers and charged into the room.

"Captain Craig Lewis, you are under arrest for conspiracy and conduct unbecoming to an officer," Fox barked, startling the man badly – which was the intent, for the MP's took advantage of his very brief lapse to grab him by the arms and haul him up into a standing posture. Once certain of their man being in their control, and while Meyers busied himself with relieving the Navy officer of his sidearm and other potential weapons, as well as his key ring, Fox ambled over to the open box on the floor and peered inside. There, with clear markings, was the missing documentation for Black Hole. And there were three identical boxes below that one, each with identifying marks from the Pentagon Archives.

"And, it seems, we've found our missing data," Fox announced with a slow grin that made Lewis' face turn pale. "I wonder what else we'll find when we execute a search warrant for your office and apartment?" At the grim look on the Navy man's face at that thought, Fox gestured for the MP's to remove Lewis from the shed. "I want you to go in with Lewis – make sure that you take a LONG time getting him into custody too," Fox told him meaningfully, then turned to the other MP. "As for you, I want this locker sealed and an armed guard posted until the information in it has been removed to government custody."

"Yes, sir!" the MP snapped to attention and then took charge of the key ring that Meyers handed him.

Fox pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "This is Colonel Fox," he told Admiral Samson's secretary. "I need to speak to the Admiral."

"Samson here," was the almost immediate response.

"We found it all," Fox announced triumphantly. "He led us straight to everything that Harris managed to sneak out of the archives. I have it under armed guard pending a proper forensics team." He grinned at the frustrated face of the Navy man sitting in the back seat of the MP's sedan, his hands cuffed behind him. "I recommend that you send in the other teams and apprehend Curtis and Harris before they can destroy any evidence that THEY may have in their possession."

"I know you'd like to be in on those arrests, Colonel," the Admiral said sympathetically, "and I wish we dared wait for your return to execute those warrants. But I assure you, your part in this investigation will be well-documented, and you will receive all the proper credit for your outstanding efforts."

"Thank you, sir," Fox beamed, "but make sure you have those other two in custody first – and then we can start with the congratulations."

The Admiral's dark face lit up with a surprised smile. "Indeed, Colonel. But I still want to buy you a drink when the day's over."

"Admiral," Fox exclaimed in surprise and pride, "it would be my pleasure to accept that drink, sir."

"Very good, sir. Secure the documentation and return to DC."

"Yes, sir!" Fox disconnected the call and grinned at Meyers. "That's one…"

Jarod leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers beneath his nose and watched as Dr. Charles Peterson patiently won the grudging trust of yet another small client. The newly graduated pediatric psychiatrist showed the kind of talent with the young that would take him far and benefit a good many people over the course of a career – and Jarod was content to play some small part in getting the man on his feet and established in a practice. It would be good to know that he was leaving all his young patients in such good care – it made leaving the practice, and them, far less painful and difficult. Even Ethan had agreed that Peterson had been the ideal choice for Jarod's replacement – and the three of them seemed to be already on good terms, a development that promised to keep the practice thriving later on when he was gone.

Comfortable now that Peterson was walking the child down the treatment path properly, Jarod allowed part of his attention to wander a little. Briefly he wondered if there had been any word on Sydney's whereabouts – but he was sure that if there had been, Missy would have notified him immediately. She knew how close he was to his former mentor, how much the older man meant to him. She would call the moment she knew anything.

His thoughts then wandered directly to the only other topic that had occupied him for the last day or so – the upcoming court appointment less than twenty-four hours away. He would have to talk to Ginger that night – prepare her for talking to a stranger, actually speaking in words to someone she didn't know, for the first and hopefully last time as a ward of the courts. He'd have to make sure to ask his mom to help get her ready in the morning too – Ginger would literally and figuratively sparkle if she could have her 'buffa-fies' in her hair. Anything to prove beyond a doubt that she was better off as HIS daughter…

His attention was once more caught up completely as Peterson concluded the therapy session and managed to get a hug from the little boy before smiling and walking mother and son to the office door. The tall, thin man turned back to the owner of the office. "He's a sweet kid."

"Most of them are, underneath it all," Jarod agreed, grabbing up his coffee cup and standing. "The ones that aren't 'nice' to start with eventually get there generally as time goes by and you work through the issues that have them acting out. So much of it is a question of trust and respect – I think more than any technique, just treating the kids like valid human beings with feelings and the right to express themselves is the key to overcoming obstacles."

"Well," Peterson bent over the desk and found his own coffee cup and followed Jarod down the hall to the supply room with the coffeepot, "I had a chance to meet one of your success stories the other day while you were out." The shockingly light blue eyes were filled with admiration. "I read the file after I met the boy – you took him from being on the verge of juvenile hall for assault and battery to being a very nice and kind person."

"You mean Terry," Jarod nodded. "He was one of the special ones."

"It's going to take a while…"

Jarod shook his head. "You'll find the ways that suit you best," he reassured his replacement. "Neither Ethan nor I are expecting you to be another me – you'll find your own modes and techniques." Jarod sipped at the fresh coffee. "How goes the move – does your wife like the new house?"

"She's never lived this close to the ocean before," Peterson grinned. "She has this horrible sunburn on her nose and forehead from spending all day at the beach yesterday, while it was foggy…"

"Oh, yeah," Jarod grinned, remembering his first few weeks on the California coast. "Just because you can't see the sun doesn't mean it can't get to you."

"What about you?" Peterson asked, propping his behind against the shelving filled with office supplies. "Are you all packed and ready to go? I heard Cindy say that tomorrow is your last day…"

"Friday will be," Jarod said. "I have one patient in the morning who wants one more session – and then the works will be all yours. I should be able to get everything else packed that afternoon and the bigger pieces shipped off. We'll probably leave on Saturday."

"You aren't working tomorrow then?"

Jarod shook his head. "Tomorrow's the court date – and if everything goes as I hope, I think I'll be too excited to concentrated. Besides," he looked at the tall young man with confidence, "you have to solo sometime."

"I haven't quite figured out how you're concentrating NOW," Peterson admitted with a smile. "If it were me, and I were on the verge of having an adoption finalized, I'd be like a new father waiting for the baby to be born."

Jarod grinned. "Just because you can't see the butterflies in my stomach at the thought that something will go wrong doesn't mean they aren't there, Charles." His mind brought forth the smiling face of his little daughter – almost-daughter. "Why else do you think I've been more than happy to let YOU handle the therapy sessions today?"

Peterson laughed out loud. "You hide your emotions well, Doctor."

"You'll learn," Jarod assured him of that too. "It's a survival skill in this line of work."

"Gamma?"

Margaret looked down at her little granddaughter. "What, Sprite?"

"Daddy says we go 'way soon." Bright, dark eyes peered up at her.

Margaret dried her hands on a small towel and moved over to the kitchen table, where she sat down and drew Ginger closer. "That's right – you're going to go with your Daddy to live with him and Mommy and Davy in a new place."

"You der too?" The little girl blinked up into her grandmother's face trustingly.

"At first," Margaret told her gently. "But Grandma lives here – so after a little while, I'll come home again, and you'll be with your Daddy and Mommy…"

"Gamma not 'tay?"

"No, baby. Grandma won't stay – but she'll come to visit often."

The dark eyes were clouding over with concern and distress. "Wha' abou' Ee-fan? He 'tay here?"

Margaret nodded. "That's right. Ethan, your Aunt Emily and Uncle Nathan and Sammy and Jay all will stay here. But like me, they'll probably come to visit you sometimes, and you'll be back for visits too someday…"

"Me wan' you 'tay der." The little face had taken on a decidedly unhappy expression.

"My home is here," Margaret put her arms around Ginger and held her close. "And I'm going to miss you very much too. But you're not leaving for another couple of days yet, and I'll be going with you when you go. You get to fly in an airplane, you know…"

Ginger wasn't being sidetracked. "Me wan' you 'tay der," she repeated.

"But you'll have your Mommy and Davy back," Margaret reminded her. "We can talk on the telephone, and we'll visit each other. Besides, you have a Grandpa waiting for you there. From what I hear, he's a very special person."

"Gamma." Ginger was clinging tightly now. "Me wan' Gamma 'tay. Gamma make…" She searched for the right word to express herself properly. "…tafe."

"Tafe?" Margaret repeated the word to herself until she was sure that she understood exactly what her little granddaughter was telling her. "Safe? Grandma makes you safe?" She rubbed circles on the little girl's back. "Doesn't Daddy make you safe too?"

Ginger nodded against her grandmother's bosom. "Nee' Gamma too."

"I'll be there at first," Margaret promised soberly. "But soon you'll have your Mommy and Davy AND Daddy to keep you safe. And you'll even have Sam there – remember Sam?" She gestured, indicating the size of the huge Security man who seemed to be a fixture in Miss Parker's life.

"Gamma…" Ginger whimpered, knowing that she wasn't explaining her fears properly yet and wanting to desperately. She had to make Gamma understand. "Big Man 'kary. Me 'memmer…"

Margaret frowned. "You remember? But you'd never met Sam…"

Ginger shook her head. "'Nuvver Big Man, Gamma – comed my room in the dark. Him hurted me…"

"Hush!" Margaret held the child tightly, not wanting to hear more. Jarod had spoken briefly and poignantly about the abuse Ginger had survived, only barely suggesting anything of the sort that Ginger seemed to be remembering. "Not all Big Men hurt, baby – Sam is a good man. Even your Daddy calls him a friend."

"Dis Big Man wivved wiv us, Gamma. Da woman not care…" Ginger shivered and choked back long-repressed tears.

Why was it that she was telling HER all of this, Margaret wondered as she consoled the child as best she could. She needed to tell Jarod what was coming out of his daughter now that the wall of silence had been breeched – and what Missy might expect to hear once she had finally won the trust of the child.

"Your Mommy will care very much," she promised her gently. "I can promise you that nothing like that will ever happen to you again."

"Gamma make 'tafe," Ginger insisted. "'Tay wiv me."

"For a little while," Margaret reiterated. "But I promise that before I leave, you'll know of someone else who can make you safe too. OK?"

Ginger nodded, but only after a long pause. She sniffled. "Miss Gamma."

"I'm not gone yet, Sprite," Margaret soothed her and kissed her hair. "I'm still right here."

"Wuv you, Gamma."

Margaret's eyes filled with tears. It was the first time she'd heard Ginger express any emotions at all. "I love you too, Sprite. Very much."

"There!" Crystal's finger pointed out the narrow alley.

Joe swung the Centre sedan between the two buildings and started down the way slowly, for there wasn't much room to maneuver around trash containers and other detritus scattered along the length of the dingy little lane. He had half of his attention watching the reactions of the tattered girl next to him, and his attention paid off when he saw her face change just moments before she pointed again. "There! There he is!"

The sedan came to a halt and all four of them sprang from the car and hurried to the side of the man sprawling limply against the doorjamb at the back of the diner.

"Grandpa!" Deb called and bent, reaching for a hand.

"Sydney!" Kevin added his call to Deb's, his face folding in concern when he saw that Crystal's report had been correct in that the front of Sydney's shirt was indeed soaked in blood – apparently from where the gunshot wound had torn open yet again.

Joe had his cell phone out in a flash and dialed. "Mr. Atlee – we've found him. We'll need an ambulance – he's been bleeding pretty badly."

"Is he alive?" Sam wanted to know.

As Joe waited to frame his answer, Sydney stirred and gradually opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the small knot of people surrounding him. "Yeah, he's alive – quite a bit worse for wear, but alive."

"I'll call it in," Sam told the sweeper briskly. "Get Kevin to do as much first aid for him as he can while you're waiting. Stay there until we get to you."

"Yes, sir!" Joe disconnected. "There's a first aid kit in the truck, Kevin," he nudged the young Pretender. "Mr. Atlee suggests you see what you can do while we're waiting for help."

"Deb?" Sydney asked groggily, wishing his vision would clear.

"I'm here, Grandpa," Deb smoothed her hand up his arm soothingly. "We've found you, and you'll be OK now."

Sydney's eyes slowly focused on the dark-haired girl who took Kevin's spot next to him when the young man raced to the car for the first aid kit. Tired chestnut looked down into concerned dark eyes. "You wouldn't let it go, would you?"

"Nope," she replied saucily. "Did you really expect me to?"

Sydney turned his gaze to the man who was obviously a sweeper – probably the man stationed normally in front of his house during the daytime. "She needs to be seen too," he said tiredly.

Joe nodded after another look at the girl who had led them here. "I'll see to it, Doctor."

Crystal frowned. "Doctor?"

But Sydney's strength was finally at its end. He slumped against Deb and closed his eyes, letting go of reality and slipping into blackness.

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