Author's Note: Okay, this one reverses time a bit to before the end of the last chapter. I hope everyone enjoys! ~lg

oOo

Will knew things had changed the moment the phone rang. He snatched it off the bedside table and plastered it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Please hold for the Secretary."

Will blinked. The Secretary was calling him? Why? Then, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. If the Secretary was calling him, then something very, very bad had happened. He reached for his sidearm and checked it as he waited, the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder.

"Mr. Brandt." The Secretary's voice made him straighten. He left his right sleeve unbuttoned as he caught the phone before it fell. "I know you had a personal situation arise, but we need you back here."

Will nodded even though the other man couldn't see him. "What happened, Sir?"

"We've had another death." The Secretary sighed. "I'm sending your team to meet you at the plane. They'll be at a nearby airstrip in three hours." He hesitated, and then added, "We need you on this, Mr. Brandt. Otherwise, I'd consider passing this off onto one of the analysts so you could get back into the field."

"I understand, Sir." Will again tucked the phone and finished buttoning his shirt sleeve. "I'll be ready."

A few moments later, he found Noelle in the kitchen, pouring up two cups of coffee. She glanced up, their breakfast still hot, and straightened. "You're heading back."

Nearly three hours later, Will walked into the small airport and was waved through security. The tiny airfield boasted one security guard and only a few employees. The private jet that the Secretary had sent stood out, and Will carried his bag up the stairs and into the plane. Then, he froze.

Benji and Jane were waiting for him.

Benji had no reservations about filling the silence. "Hey, you going to stand there forever or what?"

Will mentally shook himself from his stunned silence and set down his bag.

His friends looked good. Benji had obviously gotten a bit of sun based on the red skin all over his face, and he seemed as energetic and articulate as ever. Predictably, he wore one of his strange plaid shirt and solid tie combinations that very few could pull off with such aplomb. Jane wore jeans and a V-necked t-shirt. Her sneakers lent her the look of a college student, but her eyes narrowed. Will knew she was simply evaluating him for his current condition, but he found it disconcerting nonetheless.

He finally found his voice. "You're my team."

Benji huffed a laugh. "Yeah." His tone clearly said, "Duh!"

Jane spoke up before Will could ask another silly question. "The Secretary thought you could use some back-up on this case, so he sent us along."

Will's instinct was to snap that he'd be fine, but he managed to hold in that reaction. Instead, he settled into a chair as the plane began to taxi down the runway and eyed Benji's computer. "What do we have?"

Benji picked up his computer and handed it to Will, his expression unreadable.

Will scrolled through the information on the screen, his heart falling the more he read. Michael Winslow, an IMF agent of Ethan Hunt's caliber, had been killed. Will had sent him on numerous missions and knew him to be a level-headed, reasonable man. He wouldn't have compromised himself or his mission.

The paperwork that Benji handed him showed Winslow's recent work. After Ghost Protocol, Winslow had returned to the US to set up his new apartment in Washington before going right back to work. He'd been sent to Paris to obtain information on a new supervirus supposedly being developed. His murder didn't appear to be related to the mission, hence why the Secretary didn't disavow him. He'd been shot and killed in his hotel room, facing the door with his sidearm in his hand. The gun had been left behind, and the photos from Paris police showed that the room hadn't been disturbed in any way.

Will frowned. "Where are we at with forensics?"

"Still waiting," Benji said. "But the room was wiped clean."

"Gun?"

"Not found, but the bullet wounds are a match to Amy Rastenburger and Bill Hanigan."

Jane moved to read over Will's shoulder. "What does someone have against an IMF analyst, a CIA agent, and an IMF agent?"

"I don't know." Will handed the computer back to Benji and rubbed his face. "But something about this isn't right. The crime scenes are familiar, but I can't place them. Almost like I saw it one time in passing but never spent enough time there for it to stick."

Jane sat back in her own seat. "So?"

Will met her eyes. "So, we take a look at files. Start tearing apart every case that Amy Rastenburger and Michael Winslow worked. I'll go through mine, as well. Maybe we can find the connection, because that's all we can do."

oOo

By the time the plane was in the air, Will was elbow-deep in files. Benji was efficient, producing every file that Will requested. He then handed anything related to Amy Rastenburger to Jane while Will sorted through Michael Winslow's file. Winslow was a good agent, not given to making stupid mistakes. So, for him to get killed, his activities had to be reported to someone. Or. . . .

"Hey, Benji?" Will finally spoke up halfway through Winslow's files. He eyed the Brit. "You ever find out anything about that breach in IMF security?"

The look Benji gave him told Will there was a lot more to the story than he'd said. "That's why I'm here. Both Rastenburger and Winslow's files were pulled during that breach."

Jane straightened. "Anyone else?"

"A few." Benji eyed Will, who quickly put it together.

"It wasn't my family that hacked our files, was it?" When Benji shook his head, Will reached for a second computer. "Start going through my files. Eliminate the cases I've worked one at a time. I want to know if there's any crossover between Rastenburger, Winslow, and myself."

Both Benji and Jane stared at him. Jane spoke. "You're sure?"

Will heaved a sigh and met her eyes. "No. But something's not right. I've seen this MO before but can't place it. Only thing I can figure is I came across it on a mission and didn't realize what I was seeing."

Benji continued to stare for a few moments and then sighed. "Okay. If you're sure."

Will met his eyes. "I trust you, Benji."

The Englishman nodded, swallowing hard at that, and went to work. For a long time, the only sound was the turning of pages and the click of Benji's keys. While Will and Jane both preferred physical files for this sort of work, Benji liked his computers. They paused halfway through their search to transfer from the plane to IMF headquarters, but it was nearing dinnertime before any of them found anything.

Jane sat up straight in her chair. "What's the Coalition?"

Will blinked. The Coalition was a loose organization of some of the wealthiest men in the world—and a few not-so-wealthy men—who believed they could control political decisions to their advantage. They wanted power without being seen, freeing them up to amass more wealth through shady deals to which no one could tie them. This gave them "plausible deniability" even though each member had a direct hand in whatever vice they chose. Drugs, human trafficking, weapons, and information passed freely through their hands. They'd been jokingly called "The Real Illuminati" by government agents in the know. As cliché as it sounded, Will knew the Coalition to be very real and very dangerous.

Infiltrating their organization was also Will's first major assignment as a new agent. He sat back in his chair and blew out a deep breath. "Who's file mentions them?"

"Rastenburger's." Jane offered him the appropriate folder.

Will turned to his desk, sorting through Winslow's files. Winslow was never as well-known as Ethan Hunt but certainly as skilled in the beginning. Men became what their lives made them. While most of Winslow's cases went right, Ethan had the occasional disaster develop on him. Hence why Winslow stayed out of the limelight.

But someone had come calling for him, and it could very well be the Coalition. That would explain why Rastenburger and Winslow knew their attackers.

Will found the appropriate file and carried it to a nearby empty desk. He started explaining the Coalition and their aims as he went through the information. According to these files, Rastenburger had put together the intel that allowed Winslow to stop a major weapons deal from happening between the Coalition and Middle Eastern terrorists. The shadow organization had grown since Will had worked the case, becoming more organized and a lot more dangerous. The map that the IMF had begun of their organizational structure showed just how deeply they'd infiltrated world politics.

But where do I fit in? And Bill Hanigan? Will pulled his own file relating to the Coalition and laid it out. Back then, he'd simply infiltrated the organization, found the intel that IMF wanted, and left. While the intel proved useful, Will hadn't crossed anyone during his time. The mission stood as one of the most uneventful of his had been a good introductory mission for a brand new field agent.

So why is the Coalition acting now? Will frowned at the files, completely silent while Benji and Jane assimilated what he'd told them. And why haven't they come after me? Every person who's file had been pulled had already been killed—except Will. Why?

Will sighed. There were too many questions and not enough evidence. And he was running on adrenaline now. Having a direction energized him, and he turned to Benji and Jane. "Let's pull everything we have on the Coalition. I want to know everything they've been up to for the last few years."

oOo

At midnight, Will found himself standing in front of a whiteboard with everything they knew about the Coalition either written on it or tacked to it using magnets. The Secretary had stopped by, once again apologizing for making Will's first "mission" after Ghost Protocol something so mundane. Will stopped him with a glare, something he likely would never have done to the previous Secretary. This new man was a bit too much of a people pleaser in Will's mind, and men like him didn't last long after they made a few tough decisions.

Now, Will glanced over to where Benji and Jane still worked. Jane had shed the jacket she'd worn on the plane, and Benji still had his tie in place. But both looked rumpled. "Hey, guys, why don't we call it a night?"

Benji's head came up, and he glanced at Jane. "We're good."

Will shrugged and went back to the whiteboard. They'd been assigned to the investigation, and he trusted them to know their limits. Besides, during Ghost Protocol, they had all pushed themselves beyond this point, two of them spending quality time in the hospital.

They'd found quite a lot on the Coalition and why they'd targeted Rastenburger and Winslow. The mission that Rastenburger had researched and Winslow had completed had put a halt to a major weapons deal five years ago. The Coalition had been forced into hiding, with its members going silent and stalling all investigations into their work. Will knew that the CIA had their own assets in place within the Coalition, and one of them had been Bill Hanigan. When he stopped by, the Secretary had brought Hanigan's un-redacted file—the one the CIA should have sent over in the first place. Had Will been able to see that Hanigan dealt with the Coalition, he'd have put things together before Winslow got killed.

Hanigan had spent quite a number of years undercover in the Coalition. In fact, he'd met his young wife that way, and he ultimately had himself extracted after falling in love with her.

And, just like that, the pieces fell into place. Will turned. "Benji, hand me the file on Hanigan's wife."

Jane stood and walked over to him. "What do you got?"

"Might be nothing." Will flipped through the file that Benji had compiled in recent hours on Mrs. Josephine Hanigan. Thirty years younger than her late husband, she had come up in an opulent home and been given anything she wanted. But it wasn't her history that concerned Will. It was her maiden name. He glanced at the board and back at the file before pointing. "Bill Hanigan was married to the daughter of Edward Van Buren."

Benji's jaw dropped open. "And Edward Van Buren. . . ."

Will nodded and picked up the sentence. ". . .was a founding member of the Coalition's US cabal. From what this says, he's retired now, but that doesn't mean he didn't know who Hanigan was."

Jane turned to Will. "That's why an agent with Hanigan's skill allowed his killer into his home. He trusted him."

Will frowned. "I doubt Van Buren did the deed himself. He's in his eighties, though his wife is much younger. But he could have arranged it."

Benji stared at the board. "Wow. Imagine your reaction if your daughter brought home someone you knew was responsible for putting a stop to your business."

Will nodded. "But that doesn't explain how Rastenburger knew her killer."

"Maybe she didn't." Jane shrugged. "How many times do we, even though we're IMF agents, get those crazy salesmen knocking on our doors and selling vacuum cleaners or some such thing? Maybe it was something as simple as that."

Will's gaze narrowed. "Analysts know better." He realized his snappy tone and shook his head. "Sorry. It's just. . .I knew Rastenburger in a distant way. She was careful."

Jane put a hand on his arm rather than saying anything.

Will pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. He glanced over as Benji wrote another name on the list of businessmen known to have dealings with the Coalition—and froze. Whirling on his heel, he frowned. "Benji, you're sure about that?"

Benji nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

Will stared at the name, one familiar because he didn't know if it belonged to his grandfather or not. "Robert Blake. Any chance he's from Wisconsin?"

"Originally."

Jane eyed him. "Will?"

Will ran a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "Robert Blake and my grandmother knew each other back in the sixties." He let out a deep sigh as a heavy burden settled over his shoulders. "Based on what little I know, there's the distinct possibility that he could be my grandfather."

oOo

Noelle was unprepared for Travis's next visit. She'd gone to work the same day that Will left, determined to reopen the B&B side of the business by week's end. Axel needed to know his investments were secure in her hands, and she'd finally begun to feel like she had a handle on the restaurant. The cooks and wait staff knew what to do, and she could still fill in as hostess.

He chose the busiest time of day to appear. The restaurant had been hopping since Greta's collapse, one of the ways the townspeople had come out to support a long-time member. So, when the bell over the door rang, she merely glanced up. Travis smirked at her, and her heart sank. Still, she pasted on a friendly smile and walked over to him.

He eyed her attire. "A restaurant? Really?"

Noelle took a moment to run through the people in the dining room. Dane Winters was there, as was one of his deputies. "Can I help you with something, Travis?"

"I want to know where your landlord is." He put air quotes around the word "landlord."

Noelle held his gaze. "Why on Earth do you think I know anything about his whereabouts?"

"Because he just came into town to visit Greta."

"Just because he visited Greta doesn't mean he was here." But she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Travis knew it, too. He took a step forward. "I'm gonna find him, Noelle. When I do, I'll teach him what it means to take something that's mine."

Noelle's eyebrows rose as she felt a presence behind her. "He hasn't taken anything, least of all something that belongs to you. Now, if you'd like a table and something to eat, I'll gladly take your money. Otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Travis glanced over her shoulder at the person behind her and laughed. "See you later."

Noelle began to shake in rage after he left the restaurant. Why was he back here now, of all times? Did he think she knew everything about a man she considered a friend and nothing more? Yes, Will had stayed at her home for two days. Yes, they'd spent time going over his grandmother's journal. But nothing had happened. And nothing will if we're right about what's in that journal.

She turned and found Dane Winters watching her closely. A smile touched her face. "Thanks."

Dane nodded. "He's just going to keep turning up," he said softly. "That restraining order is a good idea."

Noelle nodded. "I know." She looked out the front window. "I'll come over to the office in the next couple of days to get the paperwork done."

Dane went back to his lunch and left a sizable tip when he returned to work. And Noelle tried to put the incident from her mind. But she constantly wondered why Travis wanted to find Will so badly. This went beyond merely harassing her, and she couldn't shake the sensation that something was very wrong.

When she arrived home, Travis was sitting on her front porch. He stood, stretching as if he'd been there for hours, and smirked when she couldn't get to her driveway. Noelle stared at him, amazed at his audacity and knowing she shouldn't have been. After the last time, when she hadn't let him into her home, she'd hoped he'd get the hint. He apparently hadn't.

Now, he strode down the front steps as if he owned the place. "Love what you've done with the garden. Very organic of you."

Noelle's eyes narrowed. "You're not welcome here, and I've already asked you to leave me alone. I won't ask again."

"Oh, I'm leaving," Travis assured her. "I just thought you should know something."

"Really?"

He laughed, a snickering that made her feel like she was less than half as intelligent as she was. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"Idea about what?"

"Your landlord," he sneered, again using air quotes. "What did he tell you about himself? That he's a cop? An accountant? What story did he spoon feed you that you were too stupid to see through?"

The same anger that made her tremble back at the restaurant now rose up inside of her. "Will Brandt is a friend, the kind of friend I knew as a kid and still have. Not that you'd know anything about that. And I've already told you he's not here. He really is my landlord, and there is nothing going on between us!"

Travis snorted. "What was it, Noelle?"

She blinked at his tone. He'd used it on her in the past, and she knew he had reached the point where, if she pushed him any further, things would turn very ugly. "None of your business."

"Then let me tell you the truth." Travis stood less than a foot away from her, the same derisive sneer on his lips as before. "Will Brandt isn't even his real name. It's William Hayes. Or, it was before he changed it."

"I knew that."

"You know he's a spy as well?" Travis walked a few steps away, shrugging. "No, of course you didn't. Because you're so dumb you can't even tell what kind of person you're inviting into your home. You'd rather walk away from me to sleep with a man who lies to you about everything he is."

"No." Noelle let out a breath she hoped was calming and instead found her rage growing. "You're the liar, Travis. You lied to me every day we were married, and you haven't stopped. Now, I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Leave!"

Travis laughed at that. "He's a spy, Noelle. He leaves you here, keeping house and playing the good little girlfriend to go off to exotic countries and sell secrets to the highest bidder! He's a traitor! You know why he was on vacation? Because his own government disowned him! His family, his country. . .Kind of makes you wonder what kind of man he is, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't." But her tone was less assured than before. It couldn't be true. Could it? Had Will, the one man she'd trusted since her marriage to Travis, have lied to her about everything he'd done in life?

"Oh, yes." Travis snickered again as he walked past her. "Just think about that next time you sleep with him." He turned and walked backwards toward his car. "Oh, and tell him I want to talk to him. He'll know how to get in touch with me. Tell him the message is from the Coalition. Y'know what? Never mind. I'll just hang out here in town and wait for him. I hear there's a good bed and breakfast here."

Noelle stared as her ex-husband climbed into his car and drove away, spraying gravel everywhere as he did so.

Will was a spy? A genuine, double-oh-seven spy? Or something else? And what was the Coalition?

Too many questions swirled around in her head as she unlocked her front door and slipped into her home. All of a sudden, every horror story she'd heard about homes and phones being bugged came to mind, and she looked around. Was she safe? Was Will listening to everything she said and watching everything she did? Or was someone else listening? She briefly considered calling him, asking him to come to Ephraim, but then discarded the idea. She was a big girl and could make her own decisions.

Noelle sank into her couch as she thought over Travis's words. She'd trusted Will. Or thought she had. But what did she do now, when the man she'd chosen to trust turned out to be no different from the husband she'd divorced? And who did she turn to now that her entire world had just changed?

~TBC