"Nice job, Aaron."

"Thanks, Jon. It went easier than I thought it would, but I'm still glad it's over." Aaron had just wrapped up his first recruitment presentation and felt it had gone fairly well, but speaking in public was still the most challenging part of his new position with the Service. He waved the other man toward his office. "Have you got a minute? I wanted to talk to you about security arrangements for the Russia trip."

"Sure, Aaron, not a problem." Jon Cardona had been with the Secret Service nearly as long as Aaron Pierce. Chatty and gregarious, he was popular among the Service staff. Though the two men were opposites temperamentally, they respected each other's abilities; Agent Cardona had been Aaron's first choice for the new head of Martha Logan's security detail. Not only was Cardona one of the few agents Aaron instinctively trusted after his recent experience with Adams, he discouraged White House gossip. Jon had cast some curious glances at him since he'd become a frequent visitor to Martha's apartment but, to Aaron's great relief, had never said a word. Most fortunately of all, Jon got on well with the former First Lady. On one or two occasions he'd entertained her with stories of his experiences in the White House, and she enjoyed talking to him. Now the two men sat at Aaron's desk trying to work out the logistics of guarding the Presidential entourage in an unfamiliar city.

"I haven't seen anything in the press yet about Mrs. Logan going on this trip," Cardona commented.

"No, she wanted it that way. The motorcade attack on the Suvarovs wasn't that long ago and I think she's nervous." Actually, Aaron knew Martha was nervous; she'd shared her concerns with him in detail, but explaining this to Jon would have meant admitting to a greater level of intimacy with Martha than he was ready to reveal. "President Gardner is going to make it public eventually, but she asked him to wait until just before they leave."

Cardona nodded. "So, have you got the schedule from the White House yet?" Aaron handed him the itinerary he'd received that morning; the agent flipped through it idly. "We've got the landing, the meet-'n'-greet... a tour of the Kremlin, reception at the American embassy… lots of meetings. Sounds like the usual."

"They're staying in the Kremlin with the Suvarovs, and I've got a diagram of the Presidential residence here." Aaron passed over another paper from the stack on his desk. They studied it together, reviewing exit routes and possible security weaknesses. "At least we won't have to go chasing around Moscow too much," Cardona commented. "They'll be in the Kremlin most of the time."

"Yep, and we'll be working with the Russian security agents a lot. I've talked to CTU to find out what their protocol is like. I know a few of their guys from the last time we were over there, and that ought to help." Aaron had accompanied President Palmer on a brief trip to Moscow several years before.

"You get to play diplomat, then. Any grumpy Russians I'll refer to you." Cardona grinned as Aaron winced in response.

"So you want the 2 a.m. to 10 a.m. shift, do you, Jon?" They both laughed, and Aaron continued: "Just make sure our guys keep their horns pulled in. We're not in charge, they are. Any conflicts that come up, bring to me and I'll see what I can do." Aaron shook his head. "This administrative stuff… I'm still getting used to it."

"You're doing great, Aaron. Not to worry." His second-in-command looked at him reassuringly. "I guarantee you, none of those Russian guys are going to give you a hard time. You saved their President's life, and they know it." He stood and gave Aaron a pat on the shoulder. "This trip is gonna go just fine."

"So, Martha." Beth Gardner gave a quick, mechanical smile. "I'm so glad you could make it. I've been hoping you could visit, and I wanted us to have a chat about the Suvarovs. By the way, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay, Beth, thanks." Martha was holding herself in check. She was not looking forward to spending five days in close proximity with the new First Lady ("Honestly, Aaron, I'd rather you stuck needles under my fingernails than put me on a plane with that woman," she'd complained). She reminded herself that at least she'd be suffering for her country, and wondered if this would qualify her for a Purple Heart.

"How are things going with you? I'm seeing great things about you in the press," she added, trying to be generous. Beth Gardner had indeed thrown herself wholeheartedly into supporting her husband, and was giving the American public exactly the kind of First Lady it wanted: sweet, feminine and committed to good causes. At times Martha had wondered how much her dislike of Beth was due to the knowledge that she was doing a better job as First Lady; with Beth's next words, she realized that there were much better reasons why they'd never been able to stand each other.

"I hear you've gone in for public speaking. Do you really feel you can do that? I mean, you know, after what happened before." Martha knew Beth was referring to her track record of disastrous public appearances.

"I'm not worried about it. I'm speaking to organizations I support on topics that I'm interested in. And frankly, Beth, I need the money." She found the look of shock on the other woman's face immensely entertaining.

"The money? But I always thought you and Charles…" Beth let the sentence trail off.

"Were well off? We are, but everything's community property. When I filed for divorce all the accounts were frozen except what's in my name alone, and that isn't very much. That's one of the little things that make getting divorced so much fun." Martha shrugged. "Besides, it's probably good for me to earn my own money. My psychiatrist thinks it's therapeutic," she added, knowing that any reference to her history of mental instability would make Beth feel uncomfortable. She was not surprised when Beth responded to this gambit by turning the subject to their upcoming trip.

"Tell me about the Suvarovs. You must be great friends with Anya?"

"I wouldn't say great friends, but I did get to know her somewhat. Her English is good and she's very easy to talk to." Martha's assessment of Anya Suvarov, in fact, was that she was as expert at playing the part of First Lady as Beth Gardner, only nicer. "She's very interested in the arts. I remember we talked about the ballet quite a bit. I wouldn't be surprised if we got invited to a performance while we're there."

Beth's face brightened. "Oh, that would be nice." She hesitated, then added: "Hal is really happy that you agreed to come with us. It's nice of you to help us out. He really wants this trip to be a success."

Martha accepted this attempt at conciliation. "Anything I can do to help, I'll do. We're all in the same boat here, Beth. Charles left a huge mess behind him and I don't think it's fair for Hal to have to clean all of it up by himself. I'm going to steer Anya Suvarov to you as much as I can, but she may want to talk to me more, especially at first. There's probably not a lot I can do about that. Remember," she added hastily, "my job is to get her to invite you back. That's all I'm trying to do." This seemed to pacify Beth, who relaxed and continued to ask Martha for information about the Suvarovs. Nothing of note occurred during the rest of their meeting until Beth commented, "Hal wants to meet with Yuri Suvarov to discuss how the anti-terrorism treaty is working out."

Martha flinched. Suddenly she was reliving the attack on the motorcade: the flash of fire and explosions, and the moment she'd thought Aaron was dead.

"Martha?"

"Sorry, Beth. I must have had a flashback or something." Martha realized she was sweating and clutching the arms of her chair. "It's nothing, I still sometimes have memories of what happened."

"Of course. Anyone would. But you don't need to worry, Martha. Nothing's going to happen this time."

Mike Novick was in his element at a cocktail party. Blessed with a memory for names and a penchant for political gossip, it was rare that he found himself bored at such functions, and usually came away from them with a piece or two of useful information to boot. Though he was not to know it, on this occasion he was to be the supplier of said information. The think tank for which he was now working was hosting a reception for a visiting economist who had recently won the Nobel Prize, and he now found himself standing next to a somewhat stocky older man with a permanent look of worry etched on his face.

"Mike Novick. I work with the Institute," he said briefly, shaking hands as he had already done half a dozen times that evening.

"Ah, Mr. Novick. My name's Gene Dunlap. I think we have a mutual acquaintance, the former President Charles Logan – my firm's representing him."

"Yes? I hear you're doing an excellent job." Novick somehow restrained himself from adding, "of shielding that scumbag from his mistakes."

"That's very kind of you." Dunlap's expression relaxed for a moment. "And are you enjoying your work here?" He gestured around the Institute's reception hall.

"Very much. It's a bit of a change from the White House, but I like the variety." Out of curiosity, Mike shifted the topic of conversation back to Logan. "Is Charles Logan's defense going well? Mrs. Logan is a friend of mine, and I know she's been to see Charles once or twice. She seems happy with how the case is being handled."

"I think we're doing very well. My partner is handling the day-to-day details, but I've visited Mr. Logan several times. It's been a challenging situation," he added blandly.

I'll bet it has, Novick commented silently. His thoughts were interrupted by a query from Dunlap: "And how is Mrs. Logan? My partner was very impressed with her. I hope she's doing well?"

"Very well, in fact, she's going to be accompanying President Gardner and his wife to Russia next week. The Suvarovs requested that she be present during the summit. She's a great favorite of theirs." Mike noted with pleasure that Dunlap seemed suitably impressed with this information. At this point they were joined by the guest of honor and the conversation shifted to the current state of the Russian economy; Mike quickly forgot about Martha Logan's upcoming trip. Dunlap, however, did not.

For a moment Aaron thought he'd walked into a fashion boutique instead of Martha's apartment. Angie and Martha were standing in the middle of the living room surrounded by what looked, to his dazed eyes, like dozens of outfits.

"We're going for five days, Martha," he commented mildly. "Not a month."

"I know that, Aaron. This is a diplomatic nightmare. I can't figure out what to wear." Martha looked frazzled; Angie looked patient. "This may sound stupid, but it really isn't. I have to look good, but not too good. I don't want to look like a frump, but I can't outdo Beth Gardner either."

Aaron shrugged. "Well, there's nothing you can do about that. Stop worrying about it."

Martha bristled. "What do you mean?"

"You're prettier than she is," he explained simply. "You're always going to look better than she does. Just stick to something simple and you'll be fine." Angie looked at him, stunned.

"Oh, Aaron…" Martha threw her arms around him. "Do you really think so? I'm so sick of worrying about this, you have no idea," she added apologetically.

He smiled into her eyes. "I absolutely do think so. I used to read those fashion articles about you all the time. I know you know what's right to wear."

Her eyes widened in delight: "You did? Really?"

He grinned. "Yes, I really did, and I can tell you I've never read anything about fashion before in my life. As a matter of fact, I think I just quoted something you said in one of them."

Her face lit up. "Well, then, let me show you… this is the only new thing I bought for the trip. I think you'll like it." She vanished into the bedroom.

Aaron stared out the window, trying to avoid Angie's smirk.

"Well, I never thought I would live to see this. Aaron Pierce, fashion consultant."

"Angie."

"You might as well propose to her and get it over with—"

"Angie!"

"All right, all right. I'll let you off the hook, because you've just done me a huge favor. We've been at this for over an hour. And, frankly, you're a better judge of clothes than I am. My favorite part of the military was you never had to worry about what to wear."

Aaron started to laugh. "I've never seen you in over your head before, Angie."

"I have my limits, and this is one of them."

He glanced toward the bedroom and lowered his voice. "Angie, listen. I've been talking to the Service people and I want you to bring your gun with you on this trip. Agent Cardona knows you were with the Army and he doesn't have a problem with it. It's unofficial, but you'll be an extra layer of security and I don't want to take any chances."

"You gonna deputize me, Sheriff?"

"It pretty much comes to that. Martha's still getting over what happened and I know she trusts you. Anything we can do to make her feel safer, I want to do."

"That's fine, Aaron." Suddenly Angie was serious. "I still can't believe all of you survived that attack. It must have been horrible."

"The truth is it happened so fast I didn't have time to be scared. And when you train for this sort of thing, it's a little bit different." They were interrupted as Martha swept out of the bedroom wearing a simple but beautifully tailored long black dress. She'd quickly piled her hair on top of her head and accompanied the dress with dangling jet earrings.

"Do you like it?"

Aaron stared at her, speechless. Angie leaned forward and whispered, "I think he likes it." She smiled, picked up an armful of clothing, and headed off to Martha's bedroom.

"This is going to be a very, very difficult trip." He kissed her. "How I'm going to keep from calling you 'Martha' is beyond me, not to mention wanting to kiss you every time I see you."

She grinned, and slowly backed him to the wall. "This isn't going to be a piece of cake for me either." She gently pressed herself against him, and he relaxed into her embrace. Every inch of his body was supported; he realized he had never felt so loved. He whispered into her ear, "I promise I will never ask you to do this again. When we get back, I don't care who knows. No more hiding."

She smiled for a moment, but then shivered and looked down. "I think I just felt someone walking on my grave. I've been having bad thoughts all day—" she looked at him questioningly. "Is it going to be all right, Aaron?"

"I believe it will. I've been reviewing everything, talked to CTU again, and I don't foresee any problems. But you know I'll keep checking."

She slid her arms around his neck. "If it weren't for you, I couldn't go through with this." She sighed, then smiled. "I'll see you on the plane?"

"You'll see me on the plane. You may not see much of me on the trip, but I'll be paying attention every second." He kissed her again and she walked him to the door.

Gene Dunlap had made a phone call as soon as he'd left the party. The man on the other end picked up with a quick, impatient "Yes?"

"Graham, Gene Dunlap here. I've got some news for you."

"I thought you said you couldn't get anything from Logan anymore." The voice was cold.

"This isn't from Logan, it's from his former assistant Mike Novick. I ran into him at a reception and he told me something you might want to know. It's about the President's trip to Russia next week." Dunlap's voice was conciliatory, almost anxious.

"What is it?"

"Martha Logan is going to Russia with the Gardners. I understand the Suvarovs specially requested to see her."

"Really." There was a pause on the other end. "This might be useful. Our associates in central Asia have been accusing us of setting them up for failure. If we pass this along in good faith it might distract them from coming after us. They still think Logan said something to CTU to interfere with their attack on the Suvarovs." A further pause. "Good work, Gene. I'll remember this."

"Thank you, Graham."

moneym