Thanks, as usual, to Purdy's Pal for her time and patience with reading over my 'stuff'.

Thank you to everyone for reading. You certainly make writing more fun.

Chapter 3

"Sam," Michael greeted his friend as he took his seat at their usual table in Carlito's. Noticing his red rimmed eyes and death grip on his coffee cup, Michael added, "You look…awake."

Deep brown eyes shifted upwards, but no other signs of recognition were forthcoming.

Picking up the tall glass of orange juice Michael assumed was ordered for him, he gave a thoughtful look.

"I haven't seen you looking this bad since that op in Eastern Germany."

After stirring another raw sugar packet into his coffee and taking a taste test, Sam leaned back in his chair still holding onto his liquid life line, "I don't remember much of that one."

Michael laughed softly at the memory, "Not too surprising. You barely slept. You knew you were expected to take sniper duty, but you still weaseled your way into the planning and organizing stage."

"Hey," Sam sounded affronted with the description of past events. "I never weaseled. It's all charm and abilities, brother," he grinned good-naturedly.

"Like you said, you don't remember too much of that op," Michael teased, but the remainder of the memory soured his mood. "I still owe you for pulling my butt out of that fire. You were responsible for a lot of good men making it back that day."

Sam shrugged, modestly hiding behind his coffee cup while he took a long drink. "What I remember is getting a lot of heat for drifting off during the debrief."

Michael laughed, putting down his orange juice so not to spill it. "I always suspected you made it to Commander because those in charge wanted you to be someone else's problem."

"Yours, apparently," Sam raised his mug in salute to his best friend, making Michael laugh once more.

Marissa was waiting tables this morning. With a friendly smile she stopped by to check on them. "You boys seem to be in a good mood. Can I get you anything?"

Sam let out a loud yawn as he held out his cup for a top up. "You'd be doing the world a favour if you left the pot," he told her once his cup was full.

"Sure," Marissa put a napkin underneath to keep the pot from leaving a burn mark in the middle of the table. She eyed Michael and tilted her head in Sam's direction, asking silently if he was alright.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Michael promised.

With a nod, Marissa headed back to the kitchen, most likely to get another pot of coffee for the other customers.

Fiona entered Carlito's and joined their group with a flounce of airy fabric. Her short dress swirled about her legs as she took her seat. She greeted Michael with a smile, leaned forward and placed a warm hand on his knee, "Hello, Michael."

Not quite managing to look unaffected as Fiona took up a fair amount of his personal space, Michael greeted her warmly, "Mornin' Fi." Michael's left hand snaked below the table top to squeeze her's. Michael used his free hand to pour Fiona a cup of coffee.

"Nice to see you two made up," Sam grunted from across the table.

Fiona looked at the older man with a frown, not pleased to be sharing her morning with anyone other than Michael. "You look like something the cat brought up."

"I'll remember that the next time you ask me to pull back-up duty for one of your all night gun deals," Sam added more coffee to his cup. Taking a sip he made a sour face. Grabbing the sugar bowl, he added another packet of raw sugar. Not immediately seeing a spoon, he grabbed a fork from the table and, using the wrong end, stirred the sweetener into his drink. Taking another sip he sighed.

Fiona screwed up her face watching the performance. "That was two nights ago, don't blame me for your lack of beauty sleep."

With great hesitation, Sam put his coffee cup down on the table. With his hands finally free, Sam reached under his chair and pulled out a manila folder that he placed on the table in front of him.

Tapping the edge of the folder, "Last night, I was up putting this baby together."

Michael raised his eyebrows, having calculated that Sam had been awake for over two days now. No wonders the man was subsisting on caffeine and sugar.

Fiona was about to comment, but shook herself free from the worry about Sam's activities. He was a big boy, and could take care of himself. Looking at the folder, Fiona knew it was no use asking about its contents. Sam would go over the details only once, when their new client arrived. Making obvious glances around Carlito's, Fiona asked, "Where is your client, Sam? He's late."

Checking his own watch, "It's only ten to nine, Fi. Stoney'll be here," Sam went back to drinking his overly sweet coffee.

As if the mention of his name magically conjured up the man, Stoney appeared at the entrance to Carlito's. Taking a quick look around, he spotted Sam and quickly weaved his way between the tables, finally taking the seat between Sam and Fiona.

Though she had worked hard to make headway with Michael on their relationship, Fiona was still able to appreciate the way Stoney's t-shirt clung to his defined biceps and not a single roll was visible through the tight fabric on his stomach. With a smile she poured coffee into the cup in front of Stoney.

"Thank you," Stoney smiled charmingly back to Fiona, missing Michael's frown.

Sam made introductions, his coffee cup making a slight indication towards each person as he said their name.

"I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend," Fiona said with sympathy as she blew a cooling breath on her hot coffee.

Stoney lowered his head for a moment, pausing before returning her look, "With Sam's help, I can make things right again."

She gave Sam a sharp look, "Hope you don't mind that Michael and I tag along?"

Sam gave a small shrug, but was unable to comment before Stoney dug a deeper hole for him to crawl out of, "You're a member of Sam's team?"

"I never said my team," Sam quickly amended, before Fiona could leap across the table and strangle him with his own tongue, "I told him that I had friends who got results."

Though Fiona glared at Sam, she refrained from doling out bodily harm; which was always a good start to the day in Sam's book.

Wanting to distract his friends, Michael poured more coffee into each of their cups. "What have you found out so far, Sam?" He indicated the folder that was still unopened on the table.

With a sigh, Sam took a sip of his drink, "I found out where our guy hangs out."

Stoney placed his cup down heavily on the table, hot coffee spilling over the edge. "How?" He sputtered with surprise, but quickly regained his composure. "I mean, we spoke what? Two? Three times last night? I gave you all I know, but that wasn't much. I thought we'd be checking out empty warehouses for a week."

Usually Sam would have taken great pleasure going into detail about the who's, where's and what-for's, but with a tired look that didn't improve, even after draining his coffee cup, he replied, "You missed me mentioning this earlier." He exchanged the empty cup in his hand for the folder on the table. With a flick of his fingers at the corner, "It took all night, but everything is here."

Everyone sat up in their chairs as Sam finally opened the folder and pulled out a black and white, 8 x 10 photo from the top of the pile of papers. It showed a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a face sporting a long scar following his left cheek bone.

"Stoney got the name Grigori Kolpec from his contacts before coming to Miami. His group isn't the largest of the Russian mob, but they're certainly the most affluent." Sam introduced the bad guy. Next he pulled out a color photo of a car dealership. "Platinum Performance Imports. It only deals in high end, foreign automobiles; Lamborghini, Bugatti, Pagani. You get the picture. Kolpec is a silent partner in the dealership."

The surprised look returned to Stoney's face, "None of my resources show that association. I found several police investigations for drugs and money laundering. They've run warrants for searches on nearly half a dozen warehouses down in Port Miami; the ones I thought we'd be searching. The FBI also has a file, but they haven't been able to put enough together to proceed further. I thought you were just pulling addresses on known locations?"

"What can I say? I'm a very thorough guy." He reached for his cup but remembered it was empty. He gave Fiona a pointed look that moved to his cup. The pot of coffee was closest to her. She smiled but otherwise didn't move.

Sam sighed before continuing with his explanation, "I found layers of shell corporations and read between the lines. I couldn't see this guy hiding a kidnap victim in a location known to the police," Sam yawned loudly and nodded his thanks when Stoney poured coffee into his cup.

"Just what the doctor ordered." Sam reached for the sugar, but Fiona would only pass a single packet of sugar substitute. Sam refused to accept the offending pink packet and continued to hold out his hand for the real deal. "Either pass the good stuff, Fi, or all I'll be contributing here is my snoring."

"Fine," Fiona said. With a huff of indignation she passed the sugar bowl across the table. Watching Sam add the only two packets of raw sugar left, she held out a spoon. Whether he didn't notice, or just wanted to antagonize Fiona a little further, Sam stirred his drink with the handle of the fork again.

Michael tried not to laugh. He didn't want to encourage his friends' antics, but he knew they rarely acted out of animosity, but usually to keep up appearances…usually.

Sam continued as he pulled out another slip of paper, "My buddy down in Metro-Dade division also gave me a list of clients using the dealership. Reads like the who's who of Miami. Basketball players, movie stars, land owners from out on Biscayne Bay and Fisher Island. Not to mention the long list of known Russian mafia members."

"People of influence," Fiona said with disgust. "Too important to be dragged down to the police station for questions about their drug habits."

"It's just the way the world works," Stoney didn't disagree with Fiona.

"I agree that all this sounds bad, but what does it have to do with wind technology and your girlfriend?" Michael asked Stoney.

As Sam flipped through the pages in his folder, Stoney explained, "Grigori Kolpec has a cousin in the National Resource Department back in Moscow."

Sam pulled out another picture; this one of a younger Kolpec with his arm around a man with similar build and bone structure. "Viktor Stanovich," Sam said. "He gets that technology and he moves up in his department. Even gets a direct line to the ear of the Prime Minister."

"Couldn't he achieve that without kidnapping?" Fiona asked with disgust.

Michael made an educated guess, "The competition for contracts will be fierce, driving up the price for the technology. This way the Russians have a bargaining chip, giving them first signing privileges with unlimited access to the needed hardware to set everything up."

"This deal is worth billions of dollars," Stoney sighed. "Stanovich will look like a saviour to the Russian government."

"So how do you want to play this, Michael?" Fiona asked, clearly wanting to put a crimp in the Russians' plans.

All eyes turned to Michael. "I guess I'm going shopping for a new car." He turned to Fiona with an expectant look, including puppy dog eyes, "We need to look good financially."

"Fine, I'll see Barry," Fiona rolled her eyes. " But you know how much I dislike being in the same room as him. He's always asking about beauty products." Fiona gave Michael a devilish smirk, "You'll owe me a new pair of shoes for this."

Michael was about to argue, but Stoney interrupted, "I don't know who this Barry guy is, but I'll happily buy you a new pair of shoes. Seems a small price to pay." He smiled gratefully to Fiona.

Fiona smirked at Michael, "Finally, a gentleman who understands priorities."

Michael rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting.

Sam just yawned and stretched out his arms. There was a substantial amount of crackling as he arched his back to stretch those muscles. He placed his hands on the table, preparing to stand up, when Michael spoke, "Sam, your car will blend in best to check out the dealership."

Sam eyed Michael suspiciously as he reached into his pocket. Before handing over the keys to his Caddy, he checked his friend for signs that he was about to suggest something other than borrowing the car and allowing Sam his immediate plans for sleep. Seeing only a guileless smile, Sam opened his fingers, giving access to the keys in his palm. Gladly, Michael took the keys before placing a hand under Sam's arm to help him stand.

When Michael didn't immediately let go, Sam groaned, "Mikey, I'm going home to sleep."

"Sleep? What about my Rita?" Stoney asked quietly. "You an old man now, Sam? You used to make it at least three days before getting this bad." Stoney found a small amount of amusement in his observation.

Sam glared at Stoney, but didn't expand on his activities of the past couple of days and nights. Instead he turned on Michael. With a finger to his friend's chest he was about to explain the benefits of a well rested team. Instead Michael smiled and gently grabbed Sam around the wrist. It was testament to Sam's exhaustion, that it took next to no effort to stop the finger from its continuous poking.

"Come on, Sam. I'll let you sleep all the way to the dealership," Michael put a friendly arm around Sam's shoulders and began to lead him out of the restaurant.

"You're a true friend," Sam sighed in resignation.

Stoney stood up before they got too far, "What about me? What can I do?"

Michael paused, causing Sam to almost stumble. Michael cast a worried glance at his friend, which Sam apparently didn't appreciate, "For crying out loud, Mikey. I'm tired, not dying." Sam then turned his waning patience on his old squad mate. "Stoney, go back to your hotel. Check in with your contacts still working with Avnet Technologies. Get back to us if you hear anything new." Not waiting for Michael, Sam started back toward the exit. He looked over his shoulder and called out, "You comin' or what?"

Michael gave a quick nod to Fiona before hurrying in Sam's wake.

Stoney watched the men leave and then turned a questioning eye to Fiona. "Are they always like that?"

Fiona shrugged indifferently, "Sam's usually not that grumpy. His sugar high must be coming down already."

Stoney nodded, "I don't remember Sam being so moody." Then he gave a half shrug, as if accepting that time changes everything, including Sam Axe. "I guess I had better get back to the hotel and make some calls."

"We'll call you before we move on to the next step," Fiona reassured the man. Stoney nodded thankfully as he slowly got up from his chair. Tentatively he added, "Thank you, Fiona."

"Don't worry. We'll get Rita back," Fiona clasped Stoney's hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. Stoney, unable to speak, nodded before stepping out of Carlito's.

Fiona sighed as she sat back in her chair. It was refreshing to see a man so concerned for the welfare of his loved one. Checking her watch, she knew it was still too early to get useful conversation out of Barry. She flagged Marissa and ordered an egg white omelette. She might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while she had it.