Chapter 2

Friday, May 8, 1981

The entire five-story office building was dark and silent; TOO silent for Jaime's liking. It spoke of the possibility of infrared beams and traps she simply couldn't see. She wished for a moment that Steve was beside her so they could both benefit from his bionic eye. Stop it! She told herself sternly. I can do this! Oscar sent me because he believes I'm fully capable; I just need to believe that, too! Well, no, that wasn't entirely true...and Jaime knew it. Oscar hadn't sent Steve because Steve was temporarily deactivated. Still, her ear was necessary to crack open the safe. In all likelihood, if Steve had been his 'normal' self, Jaime knew, Oscar would've sent them both. (But where would that have left Becca...?)

Knock it off! she admonished herself. Concentrate! From the blueprints she'd studied, Jaime knew there were at least five safes: one each in the offices of the CEO and CFO and one in the office of the three department heads. Going solely on her own instinct, she headed first for the fourth floor - and the safe belonging to the Chief of Research and Development. When she reached the top of the stairwell and looked through the tiny window, she could barely make out several guards walking the length of the hallway. For anyone else this would be a deterrent; for Jaime it was reassuring. It meant a much lower likelihood of those dreaded invisible beams. She'd just have to find a way to get past them. A diversion on another floor would only alert the whole building that something wasn't 'right'; that would have to be a last resort.

Steve fed Becca her bottle and chose Jaime's favorite chair in the living room rather than the (slightly smaller) nursery chair to rock the infant. He held her long after she'd fallen asleep, humming softly to her as he tried to push away his gnawing sense of fear. He'd just put the baby down when he heard the quiet knock at the door.

''I heard Oscar was here,'' Mark told him, ''and thought maybe you could use a sounding board.'' He was relieved that Steve appeared clear-eyed - and with no drink in his hand. ''So...how are you holding up?'' he continued once they'd seated themselves in the living room.

Steve shrugged. ''I'm...worried, Doc. And I shouldn't be. Jaime's worked far tougher assignments than this one - she's stared death straight in the face - and yet, this one scares me. I'm not even sure why.''

''Could it be because you feel responsible that she was sent out at all?'' Mark queried bluntly.

''Well, I am responsible. If it weren't for me - because of what I did - she'd barely have been turned up now, and would still be getting her footing again. Instead...''

''Like you said though, Jaime's worked far tougher missions. Oscar tells me this is a simple in-and-out. She'll be home by morning. Besides, she was trained by the best.''

Jaime stood at the little window and watched as much as she could see of the guards' movements until she thought she had their rhythm and routine down pat. Her target office was the second door on her right, once she'd stepped into the hallway. The guards stopped at the other end of the hall (where Jaime could no longer see them in the dark) and finally she dared to make her move. She slipped silently out of the stairwell and forced the (locked) office door open as quietly as she could manage, making her way to the safe along the far end on one wall. She stood still and just listened to her surroundings carefully before proceeding, then began slowly spinning the dial on the safe.

After the requisite number of turns and clicks, the safe door swung open...and the office lights began to blink on and off, accompanied by the shrill blare of an alarm. She froze for a split-second, knowing she couldn't go out a fourth-floor window, then grabbed the file (it was the only item in the safe) and bolted for the door, hoping she could outrun the guards.

She was wrong. The three men met her in the doorway, their weapons drawn, blocking her escape. They stared silently, whether it was per instructions or because they didn't speak English was impossible to tell...but Jaime knew she was trapped. With the barrels of their guns, they motioned her into the nearest chair and held her there, wordlessly awaiting the arrival of whatever (or whoever) was coming next.

Saturday, May 9, 1981

Michael leaned back in his chair, his arms across his chest and a smug look gleaming in his eyes. He held all the cards at this moment...and he knew it. ''The way I see it,'' he told Steve and Oscar, ''if Jaime dies, the only eyewitness against me for any potential appeal is eliminated and - BOOM - I have my freedom back. What possible reason would I have to help you?''

''Your Hippocratic Oath, for starters,'' Oscar said softly. ''You're a doctor, Michael. All those years of research; here's your chance to put them to the best possible use.''

Michael laughed. ''You took that away from me, didn't you? I still have my license, pending appeal, but my career is over. Over!''

Oscar wasn't deterred. ''You could make up for the harm you've caused -''

''I care about that...why?'' Michael scoffed. ''Which brings us back to Square One. Show me a single reason why I should even want to do this - what's in it for me, as opposed to what I might lose - and I'll give it some thought. Until then...''

''But Jaime doesn't have time for you to 'give it some thought','' Steve blurted out desperately. ''Please, Michael! You've always said how much you care about her! Please don't let her die!''

''Corinth is fully capable of saving her life,'' Michael sneered. ''We all know that. So let's not beat around the bush here. You want more for Jaime than merely keeping her from dying...don't you? Of course you do! You want her to speak, walk, feel and maybe even be bionic again. And I can give that to you - to her. So...what's in it for me?''