Chapter twelve,
Michael woke up with a big grin plastered on his face. He lay stretched out under Fiona's very comfy duvet. He stared up at the bedroom ceiling, his hands behind his head, it was the first good nights sleep he had managed in quite a while. Fiona's head was resting on his chest and when he went to move she tried to snuggle into him even more. Gently, so as not to disturb her he moved her head onto a pillow and quietly slid out of the bed. He noticed it was already past ten o clock, grabbing a towel he headed into the shower.
Fiona woke up to the smell of her favourite egg white only Spanish omelette cooking and the coffee machine bubbling away. Getting up and slipping on a light dressing gown she walked into her lounge. Michael had already set out a tray for her breakfast and was just serving the omelette onto a plate. He looked over at her, "I was going to bring it into you." She smiled at the look of disappointment on his face.
"It's ok I'm up now, and it's getting late." She pointed out. "Aren't you meant to be meeting Sam this morning?" She sat down on the sofa and allowed him to place the tray on her lap.
He nestled down into the seat next to her, leaning in to nibble on her ear. "I could meet up with Sam later." He hinted.
"I know you could Michael," She moved her ear out of his reach. "But if you remember, I agreed to take your Mother to lunch and to do some shoe shopping." She liked this new, attentive Michael.
He dropped his head onto her shoulder. "Do you have to?" He breathed the words onto her neck.
"It would hurt her feelings if I cancelled now." She smiled.
He sat up and looked her in the eye, deciding she was serious. He took a bite of her omelette and got to his feet. "Ok, I'll go find Sam."
.
"So everything all right with you two?" Sam asked, kicking a chair back for Michael to sit down. They were sat inside Carlito's, all the outside tables already taken up by tourists.
"Why shouldn't it be?" Michael countered. Reaching for the iced tea Sam had ordered him.
"So where is she? Resting up?" He gave a lewd grin.
"Taking my mom shoe shopping." Michael pulled a face. "So you have something for me?"
Sam placed Michael's wrist watch on the table. "So it's got a range of about a mile, that means we're going to have to keep tabs on you. It's got a battery life of about two hours so you switch the tracker on by pushing in the winder. When do you plan on removing the infestation from your loft?"
"Today, I'll go through it then, I wondered if you fancied double checking I've not missed anything?"
"Sure thing, it will have to be early because I've got a hot date of my own tonight, a cocktail waitress called Amber." He raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
.
Michael had already found most of the listening devices, so after he had removed them from their hiding spots. He moved onto a more challenging search, the cushions on his chairs, the mattress and the bed itself. The leather couch upstairs and finally he ran a search for optical bugs. With his final assortment of listening devices plus two hidden cameras gathered up, he let Sam loose to search for more. Once the two men were happy that the loft was bug free, Sam left to prepare for his hot date and Michael dropped all the electronics into the canal behind his home. Then with Jesse parked a couple of blocks away Michael sat down to wait.
.
Three boring days later he was still waiting for Ottoman's team to swoop in and drag him away. Sam, Jesse and Fiona were all taking turns watching from a distance. He was beginning to think he should go with Fiona's idea of going back to the document storage depot where she sent the disarmed letter bomb. He got up to get a yoghurt from the fridge, only to realise he was now out of supplies. He knew it was a risk but he needed yoghurt and maybe walking down the street he would make a more enticing target.
He was right, after leaving the local grocery store two men came up to him one on each side. A pistol was dug into his ribs. He allowed them to direct him into a parked SUV, he was a little upset when they threw his shopping into the nearest garbage bin. Then they handcuffed him and dropped a bag over his head. Being as careful as he could he pressed the winder in on his watch. At some point on the drive they sedated him, because he didn't remember getting out of the car or being handcuffed to a chair.
On the table in front of him was the watch, the back had been removed and Sam's tracking device exposed. Michael felt his blood run cold. He had known this was a possibility, but had deemed it worth the risk. He was reasonably confident they wouldn't kill him but he expected the next few hours to be painful.
When Ottoman entered the room, he was accompanied by three other men, Michael kept his eyes on the small seemingly harmless man with the clipboard.
"You recognize the device Mr Westen?"
"My watch." Michael replied, keeping his cool.
The three guards closed in on him. A punch to his eye opened the skin along an old scar, a second blow to his mouth split open his lip and gums, filling his mouth with blood and while he was reeling from the sudden attacks the last guard hit him squarely in the solar plexus knocking all the air out of his body. Gasping for air, he nearly choked from the blood in his mouth.
"Sam Axe's work I believe." The same calm, unaffected voice letting him know the information he was trying to protect was worthless. They already knew everything.
Michael didn't answer, he was trying to get his breathe back. A hand grabbed his hair wrenching his head up. He hoped they concentrated on him and didn't decide to bring Sam in for questioning.
"Very good work actually." Ottoman picked the tracker up turning it over in his hand. The only sound, Michael's laboured breathing. "You continue to try our patience Mr Westen. Do you think this is all a game?" He gently placed the tracker back down on the table.
"No I think your very serious," Michael answered "but I don't respond well to threats to my friends and family." A heavy blow landed on top of his shoulder, he thought he may of heard the crack of his collarbone breaking.
"That is what the your dossier says. I've been reviewing actually. Very entertaining in parts." He laid a folder on the table, and opened it. "Other parts are quite worrying. Tell me, do you know who this is?"
One of them pushed Michael's head forward to study the photo. It showed an image of a woman in her mid to late fifties, greyish brown hair tied back in a loose bun. Dressed in a knee length black skirt, with a matching jacket over a white blouse. Blood dripped onto the woman's photo, faintly reminding Michael what she had looked like last time he had seen her.
"Maybe. It's been a few years." It had been seventeen years ago he had last seen her, crying and with blood on her face and neck.
Ottoman pulled out another photograph this one showing the same woman coming out of her house. It was the same house where as a young agent he had visited on a regular basis. Having spent most Sundays when not on assignment eating dinner at her dining table and once a Thanks giving meal.
Another blow to the same shoulder. He couldn't help it, a gasp escaped his lips, the collarbone was definitely broken now. He sagged only staying upright because of the hand in his hair.
"She kept the house as you can see but she couldn't face keeping her job. The chance of meeting you or her ex husband too much for her to bare. She left Military Intelligence and started up her own company a year after the divorce."
This time a blow to the side of his head, and his hair was released. His head hit the table and he didn't try to move, he was just hanging onto consciousness.
"Now, what brought us to this point is that her name is the first one decoded out of Simon's bible. Further research has revealed she was your friend Vaughn's handler. You might be vague about her, but she certainly remembered you. I understand she had brought your name up several times regarding a burn notice, but you were considered, difficult." Ottoman's lips twitched at the last word.
Michael forced his head up off the table, trying to focus on Ottoman. "She's the one who burnt me?" He asked, not sure how to feel. Angry yes. But also he could understand why she had done it, he was not proud about what happened that night.
"Not just her, it was a joint decision I am sure. But now we come to another problem. What do you know about this?" He placed a row of four photographs out on the table ignoring Michael's blood that was smeared over the surface.
"She was never covert intelligence." Michael was trying to understand what he had been told. He received a hard kick to his ankle.
"Concentrate, and look at the photo's Mr Westen." He was ordered. His head was forced back towards the table. The photo's showed Sam Axe with the woman. Two were from around the time Michael had known her, the other two more recent.
"I don't understand." He mumbled, desperately trying to work out why Sam would be with her.
"Neither do we Mr Westen, are you saying you were not aware of Mr Axe's relationship with the lady in question?"
"Sam knew her." Michael admitted. "But he would never-" His head was slammed hard onto the table, an elbow was driven into the middle of his back. Blood erupted out of his mouth and for a second he passed out.
"Do not lie again Mr Westen, the evidence is in front of you. Mr Axe, was seeing her both before and after her divorce. These later shots show him with her at a hotel close to Langley a year ago."
"He wouldn't." He sighed the words out as another blow to the head knocked him out cold.
"Clean him up." Ottoman gathered up the folder. "Get this room clean I want him back here in an hour." He was walking out the door as he finished speaking.
He woke up in agony, someone had cleaned the blood off his face and out of his mouth but his whole head felt swollen and sore. One eye was completely shut and the other gave everything a red tint. His left arm hung useless and the pain in his neck and shoulder reminded him of the broken collarbone. He was handcuffed now just by one wrist, he guessed that they planned to carry on working on his left arm. The two men guarding the door, stared over his head. He realised for the first time they were wearing thin gloves with what looked like lead shot sown into the knuckles. That explained all the blood and how easily they had damaged him.
He tried to go over what he had learnt. He knew who had burnt him now and why, that alone made all this worthwhile. But what was Sam up to? He couldn't believe Sam would betray him. Sure he had been mad about what had happened. But it was so long ago and Sam had never directly questioned him about that night. His train of thought came to a halt as the door opened and Ottoman came back into the room.
"So, what are your thoughts on Mrs Chloe Sherrington?" Ottoman asked, he read Michael's silence correctly. "That's her latest married name, she has been married three times in total. The latest is General Alexander Sherrington who is seconded to the State Department."
"Sam wouldn't-" Michael wanted to get back to what they had planned for Sam. He got no further, as his damaged arm was dragged up and backwards as he groaned in pain he was hit hard on the side of his head causing the arm to be jerked even harder. He swore and the arm was twisted until he screamed.
"Answer my questions Mr Westen I don't know why you fail to grasp the concept."
"I don't have any thoughts about her." He finally admitted.
"Another lie, Mr Westen." He spoke over Michael's scream as his arm was twisted again.
"I I can't think about what I feel about her." He was relieved when they let go of his arm.
"This is what is going to happen. In a weeks time Mrs Sherrington will be coming to Miami. You are going to talk to her. Convince her to speak to her husband about a telecommunications contract Drake would very much like to win. You are then going to tell her that we require the exact location of Simon Escher and, if you want to, you can tell her how we will get her to comply with our wishes if she refuses to listen to reason. Finally while doing this you will curb your own murderous inclinations. You got away with arranging Vaughn's death but it will not happen again." He paused to see if Michael would argue. Satisfied with the lack of response, he turned to the guards. "Get a medic to repair his arm. Then call his friends to pick him up."
.
Michael's shoulder was reset and then his whole arm strapped to his body. His gums and lip both recieved stitches as did his eye. Once they had put him back together and given him painkillers, someone called for a cab to take him home.
He moved as if in a daze. He now knew who had burnt him and why they had chosen him. All this time, and now he had the answers, but it would mean very little if his best friend had betrayed him. It hadn't even registered with him that they had allowed him to see where he had been held.
Back at the loft, he let himself inside and went to get a bite to eat only to realise he had nothing in the fridge. He sat down on his bed, still trying to decide what to do. He had a week to find out what was going on. He was still sat there when his door was thrown open and Sam and Fiona came barging in.
"Would it kill you to let us know that you're fine?" Fiona stormed over to his side, taking note of the strapped up arm and all the cuts and bruises.
"We knew they were onto our plan when the tracker went dead and we were surrounded by paramilitary types. How hurt are you?" She sat down next to him. She wanted to touch him, to reassure herself he was in one piece, but everywhere looked so sore.
"I'm fine Fi." He replied automatically. His gaze kept going to Sam, wondering if he had been wrong about his friend all this time. He knew that Sam had been attracted to Chloe all those years ago. But to act on it would of been suicidal, and Sam was not about unnecessary risk.
"Something up Mike?" Sam had noticed the strange look he was recieving, hell Fiona had noticed as well. She was looking between the two of them confusion plain on her face.
"It's nothing, I'm tired that's all." He pulled himself together. Yawning, he shrugged his jacket off. "You two mind if I get some sleep?"
"Sure thing buddy." Sam headed towards the door. "You staying Fi?"
"Michael?" She queried.
"Go Fi, I just need to lie down for a bit. Just help me get this thing off before you go." He tried to get his arm free from all the strapping. Sam waited and watched as Fiona helped Michael get comfortable. Once he was lying down they both left.
"So what do you think is up with Mikey?" Sam asked as they walked down the steps.
"It's the same everytime Ottoman calls him in for an interrogation, or a debrief, or whatever you call it. He comes back a bigger mess than before." She snapped.