Paris, France

May 28th, 2000

The day after the incident on Wombosi's yacht.

As the BMW sped down the motorway the woman in the passenger seat nervously glanced at the clock on the center console for the tenth time in four minutes, 2:14.

The college boy behind the wheel mumbled in broken French, "Corrine, are you sure you shouldn't drive? Everything is backwards here…" He yawned deeply and his hand dropped to her leg and explored the hem of the thigh high stockings. She glanced down again, 2:16.

She rolled her eyes at his American pompousness. He was the backwards one she huffed. He lied to her and told her that he was from Canada, but every American did that. "No, we are almost there. Turn here," he removed his hand from her thigh to turn the wheel, which had been her real intention; she had gotten him to turn a street sooner, but it should make no difference. She guided him though two more turns before pointing straight ahead at the top of the hill.

"The restaurant? But, I thought we were going to your apartment?" he fought back another yawn. She looked down again 2:20.

She reached up both sides of her skirt, wiggled out of her underwear. She was very careful to put them in her purse and to not let anything else fallout. "It is late and you are a slow driver; I am losing my nerve."

She knew that's all the encouragement a college boy would need. He had told her that a software company had hired him and was here looking for a flat, but she knew he was really a college student that had backpacked around Europe for months. He was here alone and he had been in Paris a week, but his hotel phone bill showed no incoming nor outgoing calls. He was awkward looking and extremely shy; she starred at him and wondered absently if he was a virgin. She was almost certainly the most attractive woman to ever show interest in him. She had picked him up at a bar, but she had seen him before from afar and had followed him there. She was still looking at him as he glanced over at her timidly. She hadn't been lying about losing her nerve, the more she looked at him the harder it was becoming to do what needed to be done, but she quickly put such thoughts out of her mind. It was too late for that.

His eyes were glued to the pale flesh of her thigh just above the stockings, "Sir, eyes on the road please; pull in there. It has been closed for several months now, no-one will disturb us there… Yes, pull there to the back." She pointed the spot she had picked out earlier that day. She glanced over to make sure the things she had stowed behind the dumpster were still there.

She heard a jingle and looked over and saw that he was starting to undo his belt. Her eyes widened in panic as suddenly she hiked up her skirt and climbed quickly onto his lap as she glanced at the clock, 2:22.

They necked for a long time, he wasn't a bad kisser but he did waste precious time looking for the clasp on her brassière before realizing that the hook was in the front. He reached up the front of her shirt, but instead of going for the clasp, he dove underneath. She let out a noise that sounded like a small terrified animal, that he mistook for excitement, as she heard the jingling of his belt again. Damn, she thought as he reached down and tried to pull down his pants enough to allow access.

She wanted to turn around and look at the clock, but refrained. "Err, we would have more fun in the back, yes?" she panted.

"Umm…" she knew he was debating the chances of his catch slipping away as he still wiggled with his pants.

She leaned back to apply more pressure to his thighs, thus preventing his pants from descending further. She unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt and unhooked her bra. She forced her lip curl into a slight smile on one side and said, "Come on, I want to feel you on top me…" she bit her lip as she stared into his eyes and that tipped the scales.

He nodded rapidly as she leaned toward the center of the car and started to climb in the back, over the seat. She took her time, careful about what she touched with her fingertips. She was on her hands and knees and looked back over her shoulder expecting to see him ready to climb over the seat, but instead she saw the clock, 2:32. She saw him open the door, get out and shut the door before could stop him, "Jesus…" she breathed desperately in English.

He opened the door behind her and she felt his hands around her waist, pulling her towards the edge of the seat as he stood outside the car. She marveled at how he was able to keep her in place but pull her skirt up at the same time. "That is not on top of me sir…" she panted in French as she pulled and twisted out of his grip as she rolled on her back.

She was shocked at his deftness as he advanced inch per inch and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him as he was poised between her. "A condom please- they are in the glove box…"

He reached up to his mouth and ripped open a packet that he already had in his hands. Before she could muster another excuse, he rolled the condom on with one hand, she turned and looked at the clock 2:35. She looked back at him with the fear of a trapped animal in her eyes and she saw the cold stare of a predator. Geek or not he would not be denied his prize and as she saw his nostrils flare he reached under her legs, pushed forward pressing her knees to her chest, shoving her head against the other door, as he got ready to ram into her.

She turned her head sideways and sucked in a breath and held it. Despite the make out session she was as dry as the Sahara, not because of his lack of skill, but at her own preclusion. She knew it was going to hurt. He hesitated and she swallowed- willing herself to not cry-out; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Still nothing… guessing that he was waiting to see the look on her face she opened her eyes and looked at him. He had a goofy smile on his face and his eyes had rolled back in his head. She thought he had finished before things began until his head lolled forward and he drooled on her stomach.

"Eww… Cretin!" she snapped as she pushed him back and then placed a high-heeled foot on his chest and pushed him off of her and out of the car. She exhaled in relief, "Great job Nicky, you are the first person in History to use a date-rape drug on someone else and then get assaulted by them."

She quickly wiped down the back seat and doors, fixed his clothes, and put him in the car. "Fuck," she swore uncharacteristically, "Americans are too big, I should have pick the Italian guy…" She said it out of anger, but knew that the police can tell nationality by the type of dental work.

She got the items she stored behind the dumpster and put the big can of gasoline on the backseat and loosened the cap. She took out the liter of Jack Daniels and resisted the urge to take a long pull. She poured some in the man's mouth, spilling it all over him, and splashed some on his hands, then jammed the bottle between his legs. She rolled down his window to allow airflow, lit a cigarette, then jammed a second empty bottle between the break and the accelerator.

Listening to the tires squeal, she shut the door and leaned into shift the car into drive when she felt a gust of wind blow up her skirt- reminding her of what she'd forgotten. "You idiot…" she reached in and grabbed her purse from the car. She dug through it, got the fake wallet out, quickly looked at the John Michael Kane ID and put it in the mans pocket and removed his real wallet. "Wipe off the fingerprints and leave your ID and panties in the car… This is so not in my job description!"

She dropped the cigarette unto his lap, saw it ignite, then shifted the car into drive and watched it shoot across the parking lot and through the hole that she had knocked into the brick retaining wall earlier in the evening. She heard it thundering down the steep hillside, as it tore through the tiny trees and shrubberies.

She waited for a moment to make sure the fire spread and then turned and walked down the block to the pub she'd parked her car in front of. She got in and exhaled deeply. She rechecked to make sure she had everything and then drove to her office.

As her office was in a residential area and normal people tend to be a home at 2AM she had to park way down the block and hike back to the house they had morphed into an office.

There wasn't a soul out and the street was eerily quiet. She shivered despite the warm evening, "Why is it fifteen degrees cooler without panties on?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure; I always make a point to wear them…" a voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped slightly, but was proud that she didn't cry out, "God damn it Padre! You scared the pants off me!" she teased.

She looked at the towering man and even though he was in the shadows she instantly knew he was in a killing mood. She saw he was wearing a light windbreaker and she couldn't keep her eyes from flitting to his hands which were jammed into his pockets.

"Twelve seconds, a new personal best. Usually you look at my hand straight away."

His voice was cold and hollow and she couldn't help but stammer, "Ar-re you here to kill me?" She had never seen him like this. Usually he came off as very affable and light-hearted.

He pulled his empty hands out. He didn't have a weapon, but was wearing golf gloves. "No. I had intended on you living through the evening, however if you would prefer?" he said coldly.

She blinked rapidly at him in adoration, "Whenever they do send someone for me; I hope it is you…" she turned and briskly started walking to the safe house.

His voice broke and a glimmer of warmth shone through, "Why ever would you wish that child?"

Despite their twenty year age difference he had never once referred to her youth before. She was only twenty when they met two years ago, but he was one of the few that never questioned her abilities. "You would make it quick and possibly enjoyable."

"Enjoyable?"

"A drug overdose, force feed me chocolate," she shrugged, "tickle me to death. Some of the others…" she shuddered. "They… well they're…"

"Animals?"

She nodded reluctantly, "One in particular; he looks at me like he is fantasizing about disemboweling me every time I see him."

"Yes, they do seem to choose the wrong type these days: sociopaths and the men they recruit aren't much better! Kids these days. They would send me to kill you why?"

She looked at him sideways as she unlocked the door, "I'm young, but not naïve. I'm never going to be allowed to walk away from this. You know that. I already know too much."

She ushered him in and turned the lights on. "Speaking of walking away, you're overdue. I've rung your phone off the hook for four days; where were you?"

"Sight seeing."

"I'm serious. Conklin was totally freaking out."

"Was? He has stopped. Why?"

"We had a problem we had to iron out. I'm glad you turned up today though, I think he was about to send someone to 'look for you'."

"How kind of dear Alexander to be so worried on my behalf. I really must send him a fruit basket."

Just then her phone rang, she motioned him to be silent, "I'm not supposed to have boys in my room." She hit the speaker phone, "This is Nicky Parsons."

"Goddamn it Nicky! Where have you been, we're into family time here…"

"Uh, well it's 3am here Sir."

He ignored her retort, "Did you take care of the Kane situation and make it look like an accident," she looked up and wasn't surprised to see a gun pointed at her.

She rolled her eyes and mouthed, 'Not you!' and slid a cut up passport across the table for John Michael Kane that she had doctored earlier. "Yeah, he was in an auto accident."

"Who was our lucky candidate?" he asked as Padre slowly put his gun away.

"A college student backpacking around Europe."

"A name Parsons…"

"Umm, yeah I got it here. Just a second," She motioned to her purse and Kane unzipped the small clutch and pulled her underwear out. She glared at him as she snatched them both and took the wallet out. "Steven Charles Young out of Vegas."

"Okay. We'll run it up and make sure he leaves France. Good work, go get some sleep. Still no word on Bourne?"

"No sir. Sir, speaking of Kane; Padre checked in earlier today."

"About damn time! Why didn't you tell me? We were about to sic the dogs on him. What line did he give you?"

She shrugged to Padre, "He said he was climbing the Alps and dropped his phone and it broke. I ran it and it checked out…"

He sighed, "It's B.S. Check deeper for travel in and out of Geneva and see what you can dig up. He's up to something."

"Yes sir." Padre scribbled a note and handed it to her. "Sir he asked me- casually, if I had ever worked with an Eric Byer…"

"Byer? Who is that?"

"I have no idea; I thought you might."

"Never heard of him. Padre's been around a long time, let's hope it was just chit-chat, but I'll have Zorn check on it. Go get some sleep, we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

They heard Conklin hang up and Nicky hung up her end. "So, who is Eric Byer?" Padre was still studying her, as he had been throughout the call, to ascertain if she was lying. She could tell he was still on the fence about her, which was a dangerous place. "You were coming here tonight to break in. You weren't coming to see me. You saw me drive by, park down the block and it spooked you. You couldn't fathom why I'd be here at 3AM. That's why you're wearing gloves."

"Quite clever aren't you?"

"Take them off. Please… You're making me nervous," she added reluctantly.

He peeled them off and stuffed them in his pockets. She reached out for his right hand and she held it for a moment, then flipped it over and examined it. His hand clearly felt oily, as though it hadn't been washed in a long time. "You stopped washing them 150 times a day; they aren't dry and cracked."

"I don't wash them at all anymore." He saw her cheek twitch slightly and her eyes dilated, focusing on him sharply. They both knew he had washed them before as he was subconsciously trying to wash the blood off. He didn't care anymore. He knew he should have lied, but he didn't care about that either.

"Kane… please. Please let me help you."

"Come now Ms. Lindbergh," her nostrils flared at the use of her real name which no one should know, "we both know that I am far beyond help. That is what you put in your report last time, isn't it?"

"No. I should have, but I know they will just hurt you more and you can't take anymore." She cupped his cheek and lifted his faced toward hers, "Why didn't you just ask me? Hell, ask me now."

"How do you know I haven't been here already?"

"You asked about Byer. Here," she typed her password in the computer and turned the laptop around. "Look at whatever you want."

He looked at her for a long time, "What do you want from me?"

"Huh?"

"You are putting yourself at risk; for what? What do you gain?"

"You keeping your sanity? You not betraying my trust by breaking in here? I think very highly of you Kane…" She placed the laptop on the side desk, which was against the wall as she hopped on the writing desk in the middle of the room.

"Did you just do that, put the computer on another desk and sit on one devoid of other items as a deliberate sexual overture, or was it merely subconscious due to your current state of ovulation?"

She realized she was kind of in a sexually suggestive pose, but refused to tug her skirt down, or lock her slightly parted knees, "I wasn't trying to make sexual- wait! What?" she blurted as the last word hit her. Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, "So, have you been digging through my trash everyday, or just looking at my calendar through a high-powered scope?!" she snapped, her eyes glancing up as she was doing the math.

He laughed gently, more at the calculations she was obviously making than at her outburst, "Neither dear girl. Your lipstick is at its darkest. You are always more snappish when it's lightest, then it grows darker day by day until you are at your most attractive, then it wanes."

She blinked several times, "Really?"

He nodded, "Barring the occasional funeral or hot date night."

"Huh…" she cocked her head as the psychologist in her started analyzing data.

"Is your offer genuine?"

"Offer?"

He motioned behind her, "…the computer?"

"Oh," she said in a fluster, "Yeah, go ahead. I'd rather you be open about it…"

She saw him pull up his own file and flip through it. She fidgeted slightly as he read through some of the assessments she had written. She fixed her lipstick as she saw it was nearly rubbed off. She saw him pull up his list of assignments and start to scroll up. The list went on and on, "You can hit home and go to the top or search by year."

"That is very disrespectful. I killed these people, the least I could do is not skip over them."

He scrolled on and on, until the background switched from white to yellow. "What are these?"

"These aren't Treadstone. These are the Department of Defense files; I started off in a parallel program." After another minute they switched color again. "These are from the Emerald Lake Program- my Genesis." He went to the very first file and read it slowly, before leaning back in the chair, deep in thought.

She looked up and saw a picture of a man, woman, and little girl. "The man?" she asked knowing he refused children and preferred not to kill women. Normal assets didn't get to make requests, but he had seniority and had a small amount of leeway as long as someone else was available for the job. Women and kids were usually the easy jobs anyway, which usually went to the new assets.

"No, the other two," he said somberly. "You always remember your first… You had killed before tonight."

She wasn't sure if it was a question, or a statement. "Yeah. The first time a man broke in my home; it was my fifteenth birthday. I shot him," he knew the silence in between the two sentences was where the real story was, but she wasn't willing to share it. The 'I shot him' held an unspoken 'don't ask' embedded in it.

"…and were you upset when the police arrived?"

"No. I was boiling water for tea and eating scones…" there was sarcasm in her voice but he knew that she was actually telling the truth. "Speaking of which… Tea?" she asked.

"That would be lovely. Would you like to place a wager on how fast I can get Mr. Byer on the line?"

She laughed, "I'd rather not." She got the cups down from the cupboard and knew that he was watching her closely even though his head was turned. "One sugar and a dash of lemon correct?"

"That's the ticket." She heard him typing and really didn't want to know what he was doing. A moment later the phone rang.

She whirled, "You were serious? What did you do!" she hit the speaker phone button, "Hello?" she offered tentatively in English.

"Who is this?" asked an angry voice, at which Padre grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

"This is Nicky Parsons."

"You mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Yes. You're not on my team. You'll need to talk to my section chief. He's still in the office-" there was a click as the line disconnected.

She glanced at the computer and saw he had pulled up a file on Byer; he had opened his first mission as well. There was a very young picture of Padre with a young woman. She sped through the first few lines, Byer had killed her. Just then the phone rang again. Padre walked over to the teapot and removed it from the burner, seeing that it was about to whistle.

"Hello?"

"Nicky, what the hell are you doing?" Conklin snapped.

"I just wanted to see…"

"You know better. I'll never warn you again about snooping. The file was even marked that it was flagged and you opened it anyway? Next time I won't be calling you- I'll call someone else; do you understand me!"

"Yes, but sir- Byer…"

"I don't care if he was the shooter on the grassy knoll, more importantly I don't want to know; neither should you. Go home while I try to smooth this over. Now."

"Yes sir," she said reluctantly as she hung up the phone. She turned from the computer she hit CTRL+PRT SC right before the file was disconnected from the other end.

Padre brought her the tea and sipped his, "I left the dark paths of their duplicity and turned my eyes toward the light where there is salvation, truth, and justice. They have exiled me now from their society, yet I am content. Mankind only exiles the one whose large spirit rebels against injustice and tyranny. He who does not prefer exile to servility is not free in the true and necessary sense of freedom."

She smiled faintly, "Yesterday is but today's memory, but tomorrow is today's dream…" He raised an eyebrow at her for quoting Khalil Gibran as well. "I was classically educated…"

He took two steps and whispered, "Why?" and collapsed as the teacup hit the floor and shattered.

She grabbed a book from her bookshelf and flipped it open to a place where the middle was cut out in the shape of a syringe, retrieved the needle hidden there and primed it. She knelt next to his collapsed body and whispered, "I'm sorry, but I don't know of any other way to help you. They'll send to Alaska for a few months until you get your head straight." She looked at his eyes, which looked questioning even though he was paralyzed. "The drug was already in the tea bag…"

She injected him with the sedative and bound his hands and feet in handcuffs before sighing deeply, "Well that could've gone better…" She picked up the phone and dialed her boss back.

Danny Zorn picked up with a sigh, "What is it Parsons?"

"Padre is here now; I had to do a 'take down'."

"You what?! Why?"

"He was the one that pulled up that file with Byer. He was going to break in here tonight until he saw me coming to the office. He found out that this Byer guy killed his fiancée."

"He was engaged?"

"In like 1990…" She looked at the computer screen, "It looks like he killed Byers wife and child…"

"Fuck…"

"Yeah, I know right. Who would do something like that…"

"Well, it's actually quiet common, but they usually don't figure it out. We prefer that our recruits be unattached. You're lucky he didn't kill you. Good work." She heard him typing and she quickly poured herself a neat bourbon. "Bourne is MIA, the next closest is…"

"The Professor in London…"

"Right. I'll hit the panic button and get him there to collect him ASAP. We'll get him to pick up the Wombosi missiononce he drops Padre off at the embassy. Don't take your eyes off Kane for a second. Keep your weapon in your hands. If he so much as twitches you are to put him down- understood?"

"Yeah…" she said nervously. "I never thought I'd have to do this…"

"I know. Just sit tight. Everything will work itself out…"