I tried something a little different in some of the sections in this chapter - shifting the points of view between different characters, it's supposed to be happening simultaneously, but the way I handled it might be confusing - I'd especially appreciate some feedback on that aspect of the chapter - Let me know if this works or if I should restructure those bits of the chapter. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 17


"Those are all very good questions, Detective Goren." Sir Nigel admitted. "Some are easily answered, some are not."

He heard himself say the words. He believed he spoke the truth, he hoped that she would also believe he spoke the truth and that it would in some small way give her a measure of peace he knew she hadn't yet been able to find.

Nigel shifted his gaze from Goren back to Hope, who sat with arms wrapped tightly around herself. He knew he had let her down in the past, but had never realized the extent of how much damage that had to their relationship. He prayed that now they would be able to rebuild a relationship.

"As to why Kar... Hope is being watched." He corrected himself again before continuing, "Well, even after you returned to London and spent those several weeks in hospital, no one was able to gather any information on who was responsible for David's death. There were no leads, no murmurings on the street, nothing; absolutely nothing had been uncovered. There were no witnesses - except for you…"

Hope broke in, "And I didn't see anything. I didn't see the person shooting, I couldn't tell you the direction the shots came from. Nothing."

"As I said there were no witnesses. Also, no individual or group came forward to claim responsibility. For such a public assassination, that was highly unusual. Soon, rumors began to surface at the embassy. The most significant rumor at the time was that the assailant might be someone who worked at the embassy."

Nigel paused, what he had to say next was very difficult. "Not only was there the suspicion that David might have been killed by someone at the embassy but the rest of the rumor was that David had been selling ... or providing classified information to the Saudi's. That he had an Egyptian contact who was then able to get the information to the Saudi's."

"No... no! No, David would never do that. You can't believe that!" Hope insisted as she glanced around the room from Nigel to Bobby and from Bobby to Alex and back to Nigel. "He could never do that. He couldn't. It wasn't his nature. It wasn't." The tone in her voice wavered from a strong conviction to a fearful doubt. "I… I knew my husband. He… wouldn't do that. It's not true."

Nigel looked at her, heartbroken to be the one to tell her that his son had been a traitor. Softly he asked, "How do you explain a Swiss bank account with almost £1,000,000?"

"I can't... that's... that's not possible." She stammered. "There's some mistake… there, there has to be a mistake." This was turning out to be so much worse than she had imagined. She knew that she had been suppressing a great deal of anger towards Nigel, had known it for a long time, but truly felt it for the first time today. But this was an assault on her understanding of who and what David was. The picture that Nigel was painting was someone she didn't recognize. His quiet insistence struck her as such a betrayal.

"You're wrong Nigel. You... Have... To... Be... Wrong..."

Bobby sat back, watching both Hope and Sir Nigel. He could see her anger was long simmering, and not going to solved today. He knew that it went hand in hand with the hurt from her reserved treatment from her in-laws and was not going to easily resolved. He could also see her anger slowly giving way to a more immediate and much greater horror - doubt. While he was well versed and understood the type of anger she was displaying, he could only try to imagine what the doubt and new pain that was creating for her. And how it was going to complicate today's discussion.

Bobby watched Whitledge as he spoke directly to Hope. He leaned forward, seeming almost desperate to convince her of his sincerity. He believes what he's telling her. It may not be the truth, but he believes that it is.

Bobby didn't get the sense that Sir Whitledge was hiding anything or holding anything back. The man may have had his own reasons for ordering the surveillance measures, but those reasons seemed more personal than anything, certainly not intended to be harmful to her.

Sir Nigel's voice broke through Bobby's musings...

"There were those at the embassy who felt, and who ere finally able to convince me that there was a good chance that the ambush had been done by someone who worked with David, or had contact with him. There was also the belief that the individual in question might fear that you knew of his identity and involvement and that it might be something you might not even be aware that you knew. That's why the covert surveillance. My wish for you has always been for you to be able to live your life as … as unburdened as possible."

Bobby saw her eyes flash before she responded, "Unburdened?" She stood and began pacing. Turning back to face Nigel, she accused, "It's because of the money, isn't it? You thought I knew about the money. You've been waiting for me to go after it. That's why you've had me watched."

"No. Absolutely not. My primary concern has always been for your safety."

Seeing a look of scorn cross her face, he persisted. "I encouraged David to be honest with you about his work - at the embassy. I believed you had the right to know What the inherent danger could be, to you both. He felt the less you knew the better. I felt the opposite. I've always had the utmost concern for your safety. Regrettably, it appears that has never been apparent to you."

"But then why ...."

"... all the secrecy about the surveillance. I wanted you to be able to get on with your life. There was so much to rebuild. I didn't want to alarm you, I thought the potential for danger was very low, but I had a duty to you to make sure you were safe. You're my daughter-in-law. It's my responsibility and you had… there was no one else. In this one last thing though, while it went against my instincts and counseling of David, I chose one last time to honor my son's wishes - to keep certain realities from you."


As Jamey Richardson casually walked around the front of the car, Danforth-Hayes opened his passenger car door, stood and stretched as he turned and looked at the driver, Harris.

"You think I could bum one of those cigarettes from you?" The question accompanied his pantomimed pointing to the cigarette dangling from Harris' lips."

With a small shrug, Harris reached into his jacket for the pack of cigarettes, shook one out and offered it to the man. Slightly bemused, he asked, "You smoke? I haven't noticed you smoking or taking any cigarette breaks before."

"Thanks." Danforth-Hayes said as he took the proffered cigarette, slowly raising it to savor the biting aroma of the tobacco. "I've managed to mostly quit. But now, with nothing to do, nothing to focus on..." He nodded towards the house. "Sir Nigel has made it clear that we're not needed in the current situation. "Do you have a light, too?"

Nodding, Harris reached for his lighter. The little hairs on the back of his neck were alerting him to possible danger. He might just be overreacting though; he didn't know either Danforth-Hayes or Richardson well. Danforth-Hayes was trying to quit smoking. Maybe that was why he always found it to be so unpleasant to be around the man. Finally an explanation of why the man always gave off an air of distain and uncompromising harshness. That's one reason why you'll never catch me trying to quit.

Lighting the cigarette, Danforth-Hayes took a deep drag and pulled the smoke deep into his lungs. He grudgingly admitted to himself how much he missed the feeling. Admiring the polished surface of the lighter he noticed the military insignia etched into the finish - the Desert Rat symbol of the 7th Armored Division, British Army.

"The Desert Rats, eh? Your father's?"

Shaking his head, he indicated 'no'. "It belonged to my grandfather. He served with the 7th during WWII – the whole thing - the African campaign, Normandy, Burma, even the Italian campaign. After the war he returned to Egypt to live. He returned to England only a handful of times over the years - the desert and Egypt had won his heart."

"Where did he settle down in Egypt?"

"Cairo. My grandmother was Egyptian. My father was born grew up there, and only left to go to university at Oxford."

"And you..." Richardson asked. Jumping into the conversation for the first time.

"Me?"

"Yeah, how did you wind up in Cairo? Given your family history it makes sense, but…"

"How did I.... oh, you know about my 'embassy' job. He used 'air quotes' to highlight the word 'embassy'. "My father met my mother at university and the two moved back to Egypt after graduation. After I was born, my father went to work at the embassy as a translator. I inherited his gift for languages and followed in his footsteps - Oxford and the diplomatic corp. I began work as a translator in the embassy in Tel Aviv, eventually winding up back in Egypt, just like the rest of my family. Once the desert captures you, you'll never be free of her."

"But now, you're a car jockey for the Home Secretary." Richardson pressed harder, hoping to press the right button.

"I chauffeured for many of the embassy staff and several high ranking dignitaries to and from the embassy and to various meetings. I was also part of whatever security detail assigned to that person - an extra security man, if you will. I am a highly qualified driver."

"I'm sure you're linguistic skills were an invaluable asset, as well. I bet you got to hear many high level discussions..."

"Sure...."

"Hey, did you know Sir Nigel's son? He was part of the "embassy" staff, too."

Harris realized the two agents had moved in closer, to the point of crowding him. Quickly weighing his options, he realized he didn't have many, if any. They knew something. How much they knew, he couldn't guess. Considering who was inside the house, he would have to assume they knew everything. This in reality left him with just one option.

"David? Sure. We were almost kind of a team for a while. I was assigned to drive him and provide back up to meetings several times during his short tenure at the embassy." Dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground, he snubbed out the embers with the toe of his boot as he reached into his jacket. Glancing at Richardson, he asked, "How 'bout it, would you like a cigarette too?"

As he asked the question, his index finger wrapped around the trigger of the small gun he carried at his waist. Without removing his hand, he fired through the jacket and into the ribcage of Danforth-Hayes. Before either of the other two men realized what had happened, Harris had the gun trained on Richardson.

"Don't move." Harris spat out urgently. "On your knees."

When Richardson didn't immediately comply, Harris pressed the still warm barrel against the man's forehead. "Do it. NOW."

Richardson slowly sank down, the stones in the gravel drive pressing into his knees. He risked a glance to where Danforth-Hayes lay writhing on the ground gasping for breath. While his head was turned away from the house, looking at his partner, he thought he heard the sound of the front door of the house crash open and footsteps racing crossing the wooden porch. He didn't have the chance to check, as a sudden blinding bolt of pain splashed through his brain and he felt himself falling face first onto the ground.


Eames had allowed herself to become distracted by the personal drama playing out on the other side of the room. She had been taking only cursory glances out the window for the last few minutes. Silently chastising herself, she turned her back on the room to concentrate on the view outside. She cursed silently when she saw the three men now standing outside the car, watching the house.

"Bobby..." The tense urgency in her voice had him at her side before she could finish the sentence, "... three men, at the car, staring up at the house. It kind of looks like they're just smoking and shooting the breeze, but..."

"That's what it looks like all right. How 'bout it Sir Whitledge?" Bobby walked over to Sir Nigel and asked, "What's the story with the three men outside?"

"Nothing for anyone to be concerned about." Nigel replied, frustrated at the interruption. "All three are in government service. Two of them are the agents that have spent most of the last week trying of collect as much information about Hope's recent activities - as well as your own, Detective Goren. The third man is my personal driver. I have, by necessity of my position, a certain level of security that must be maintained, even in the United States."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully and muttered, "Makes sense..." as he returned to Eames' side. "... but there's no use taking any chances either." Alex nodded briskly, having already reached the same conclusions. She turned back to watch the scene outside as Bobby stood next to her, taking up the watch too.


The two FBI men also stood outside their SUV. They had continued driving past the entrance to the drive about one hundred yards before finding a narrow dirt track leading into a small patch of brush. Using the brush for cover they were able to back track almost fifty yards and now had a clear view of the house and cars parked in front.

"It looks peaceful enough." Special Agent Maxwell said as he handed the pair of binoculars over to his partner.

Adjusting the focus, Reynolds asked, "Did you notice how many cars are out front - four all together, all boxed in by the limo at the end of the drive?"

"Yeah, I thought that was interesting. This little meeting between - what was it supposed to be - two or three people seems to have grown into quite a little party. Three out side, at least four inside, plus the two of us. Seems to me as if that's too many people for something not to go wrong."

Maxwell smiled behind his partner's back before continuing, "Did you notice that old beat up Chevy Blazer we passed on the side of the road. Looks like it just about lines up off the back corner of that barn or garage building off to the left."

Reynolds' smiled as he turned to look over at his partner. "Good catch, Jason. I think someone inside that house has planned for an alternate way out of here. You stay here, I'm going to work my way back to that Blazer and see what I can find that way." He stood and handed the binoculars back to Maxwell. "You hang on to these, and keep an eye out. If anything happens, you let me know Remember we are just here to observe and report, but if we observe or fail to report any federal law being broken, well..." He checked his earpiece and tested his mic.

As Maxwell did the same, he admonished his partner, "We'd be derelict in our duty…"

"Exactly. Give me the keys." He turned towards the road and started walking through the brush. "I'll let you know when I get back to the Blazer. I think I might even try to work my way closer to that barn.


Silently Bobby watched the three men. They may have been leaning up against the car, smoking and talking, presenting a picture of relaxed ease, but he sensed tenseness in all three men, that mirrored the tenseness he was feeling. "It's the man in the middle. The other two are closing in on him."

Eames looked closer, anxious to see what it was that Bobby saw. Nodding, she saw it too. "They're going in for the kill."

"Sir Whitledge, could you tell us who the man in the middle is?"

Nigel stood and walked over to the window.

"Is he your driver?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, that's Paul Harris. He's my driver. And the man to his left is…"

The slightly muffled sound of a gunshot came back to them as they watch the man to Paul Harris' left crumple to the ground.

Bobby and Alex already had their guns at the ready as they race through the door and across the porch…


Within five minutes Reynolds found a place near the Blazer to park on the shoulder. He had farther to walk in from the road than they'd had in the previous position, but it didn't take him long to get to the edge of the brush. He could see now that the building was more like a small barn than a shed or garage. There was about 200 feet of open space between the barn and his vantage point. From his position he didn't have a clear view of the men - the car blocked his view.

"Ok, Maxwell, I'm in place. About 200 feet from the barn, the right back corner is right in front of me. The car is blocking my view of the men. You're going to have to tell me what's going on…

"Roger that. They're still there, just smoking and…" Maxwell's description was interrupted by the sound of a single gunshot.

"Man down." He shouted into his microphone. "Man down."

"Go… move in. Stay along the brush as long as you can. I'm going for the barn." Ducking down he began his run. "And for the love of God, don't shoot. I don't want to get hit by one of your strays as I make my way in."

"Don't you worry about my aim, worry about your own, old man." Maxwell teased. "Another man down… and … and one, no two people rushing out of the house. This is turning into the O.K. Corral."


Harris saw two rushing figures coming from house. He spun and fired twice. Both figures dropped to the ground and returned fire as he slid around to the far side of the limo. He had good cover, they did not. One was still up on the porch and partially concealed by one of the support beams. The other was crouched by the stairs, receiving only minimal protection from the small hedge that ran along the porch front.

Raising his weapon to fire again, a voice from behind said, "Hold it. FBI! Drop the gun! Drop it!" Reynolds shouted.

With the voice behind him distracting him, he didn't notice the rapid approach of someone on his other side. "NYPD! I'd do as he says ... because if you don't it do it in about five seconds I won't be held responsible for what my partner does." Bobby shouted.

Eames joined him off to the side, "He's right, I really don't like some joker taking pot shots at me."

Harris stared down the barrel of the first man, knowing there were at least two more pointed at his back. Harris tossed his gun over the trunk of the limo before dropping down to kneel on the ground.

"Keep going... all the way down. Hands out to the side." Eames directed him from several feet away, gun still held at the ready as were Bobby's and the FBI man's weapons.

At the sound of running feet coming up behind him, Bobby turned, weapon at the ready. "Whoa, whoa, whoa...." Bobby said.

The man came to a skidding stop, arms raised, "FBI!" he screamed, "I'm on the job, FBI!"

Bobby nodded his understanding and waved the man forward, weapon still trained on the man. "Come ahead then. Slowly..."

"I'm going to drop my weapon. Just... just don't shoot, man. Reynolds will you tell this guy who I am..."

"Goren? You're Goren right?" He didn't receive a reply, but continued speaking. "We're FBI, Special Agents Maxwell and Reynolds. We were assigned to observe and report on the meeting with Sir Nigel Whitledge here. It's not everyday the British Home Secretary sneaks into the country and quietly asks for the FBI's help."

"Observe and report... seems like this is a little bit more than observe and report."

"When the first man went man went down, we had a crime... we could finally act, without violating orders." Reynolds shouted.

With the reminder that this standoff really wasn't the four of them, the four turned to take in the scene of the shooting. What they saw was not only Nigel and Hope kneeling beside the wounded men, but Lewis and Gina as well.

"How many people are here?" Maxwell asked in disbelief. This had to be one of the least secure meets he'd ever seen.

Lewis called out, "Bobby, I already called the fire department and their paramedic unit is on the way out as well as ambulances." Looking dazed, he took in the cars and guns and bodies in his yard, "What the hell happened here? What's going on?"

Without meaning to, his gaze locked onto the shell-shocked gaze of Hope. Struggling to maintain a semblance of composure, she choked out. "It's because of me… this is all because of me." With tears streaming down her face, she looked around and imagined she could see the scene through Lewis' eyes. "I'm so… so… sorry." She turned and ran into the house.

Lewis turned his startled gaze to look at Bobby, "I didn't… I wasn't…" Gina stopped him from making matters even worse, silencing him by slapping him on his arm to get his attention. "Go into the house and get me all the ice and towels you can find. This guy is already coming around, but he's going to have an awful headache soon. He already has a heck of a knot on his head. But I don't think he should move around much until the paramedics check him over."

Bobby knelt down next to the gunshot victim, Sir Whitledge looked up and told him, "Danforth isn't conscious but his breathing seems steady and the pressure I've been applying on his wound seems to be stemming much of the blood flow." Sir Nigel had folded up his jacket and held it tight to the gunshot wound, using it to staunch the flow of blood.

As Lewis ran back into the house, Gina watched Bobby as he went over to see the other wounded man. She wanted him to go after Hope. Everything that could be done, was being done for both the victims and the shooter. Eames and the two FBI men had the shooter cuff and sitting on the ground, surrounded.

She saw Bobby run a hand through his hair and glance in the direction Hope had gone. When he remained there, unmoving, Gina couldn't keep quiet any longer.

Bobby..." Gina called out to him. "Bobby, we have this under control, why don't you go see to Hope." When he hesitated, she insisted, "Now, Bobby."

Bobby hesitated a moment longer, then began to walk towards the house, only to veer away from the front door and followed the building until he turned the corner at the end of the house.

"Where's he going?" A perplexed Lewis asked as he came back out of the house, carrying a couple of towels and blankets as well as ice he'd put into a plastic bag.

"Don't worry about Bobby. He knows where he's going… now. Help me, hold that ice to his head. Let's see what we can do about making these two a little more comfortable until the paramedics and ambulances get here."