Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize from the Stephanie Plum books belong to Janet Evanovich. The Inferna Angelus' on the other hand are solely mine as is the tiny terror tiger that rules them.

A/N: Since some of you expressed their concern about Ranger: He's not a bad guy; but he's also not the superhero of this story. For me Ranger is a human being with strengths and flaws and right now he's the victim of NISE's scheme without realizing it.

Chapter 41 – Bugging NISE

Rangeman, Trenton, the next day

It was eight o'clock in the morning and the briefing room on the fourth floor was filled with what was left of the mission team. Lester, Woody, Cal, Ram, Zip, Zero, Vince, Binkie, Sad, Willow, Ace, Knock, Scar, Bull, Harvey and Scotch sat stone-faced around the conference table. No chit-chat or banter was filling the air; instead all their faces were grim, their poses rigid. Upon Ranger's entry, the Trenton crew, aside from Zero, never moved showing their irritation with him ostentatiously.

As soon as he stood at the head of the table, Ranger slowly let an icy gaze wander over his men. "Starting today," he began as usual without any greeting, "I will officially take over the training and command of the mission team. You slacked over the past months, got distracted by some nice curves and an impish smile. I will take care that you get your heads out of your asses and back in the game. You will be in top physical condition when we leave."

"We neither slacked nor did we get distracted," Lester growled, glaring at his cousin and business partner. "T did a great job. All of us are in better shape now than before the arrival of the Inferna Angelus,"

Lester's open challenge let the rage in Ranger that was simmering below the cold surface instantly rise. What the fuck was the problem with his employees? When had they stopped respecting him - especially his good-for-nothing cousin? It's all just because he let that fucking woman into the building. How could he have made the same mistake a second time?

"We will see how you fare once we've started," he snarled at Lester, nostrils flaring, taking the men totally by surprise. Ranger never lost control in front of them. "Now that we no longer have to compromise, we stick to the plan of procedure given by DC and will leave Trenton for Colombia early to mid-September. Until then, we will use our time wisely. Plan on enhancing your physical fitness with land navigation exercises, jungle survival, combat and ambush training, close combat training, reconnaissance patrols and ruck marches with 90 lbs equipment – all that under sleep deprivation, hunger and emotional stress. I want each one of you to be able to breathe through Ranger School when we leave."

"That is fucking insane," Lester met Ranger head on, his voice loud and angry. He had to speak up. The others all depended on their jobs at Rangeman; but he was a partner. Ranger couldn't up and can him. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn't you get what Terror told us? NISE is planning to serve us on a silver platter to our enemies down there. Our only chance for survival is going in as early as possible before they can prepare an ambush on us. It's insane to send us through Ranger School preparation - fuck, our bodies aren't twenty anymore. What about the guys who've never been in the Rangers? How are they supposed to manage that exertion let alone still be able to conduct a mission afterward? We need to prepare for the situation down there and nothing else."

"Feel free to leave, Lester. Run after the cunt, I won't hold you back. I have no use for a class clown anyway," Ranger thundered, leaving the men shocked by his sudden outburst and his choice of words. For a moment Lester felt like all oxygen had left his body and he couldn't breathe. Ranger had always been his guide, his role model. Though they were family and were both Rangers, Lester had always stood in the shadow of his mighty cousin; but he didn't care. He had loved Ranger like a brother; until now. For the longest time Lester and Ranger stared at each other, wrath and aggression coiled tight like a spring between them. In the end, Ranger's leadership skills and the threat he was emanating won out. "I won't tolerate any opposition or instigation," Ranger menacingly glared at Lester. "Are we clear, Corporal Santos?" He bellowed.

"Yes, sir," Lester hissed through clenched teeth.

"Good," Ranger glared at the remaining men. "I will continuously step up the demands. Should anyone not be able to follow, he will do it over and over again until he is able. Failure is not an option. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," came the prompt and firm answer from the assembled Rangemen while the first doubts took residence in the five insurgents as to whether their decision against T had truly been the right one.

"With all due respect," Ram straightened up and spoke calmly while he unperturbed locked eyes with Ranger, "I want to voice my concerns regarding the departure time. To me it seems to be an unnecessary risk to comply with the predetermined schedule. We have facts about NISE that shouldn't be ignored."

"It is my decision what is an unnecessary risk and what not, Sergeant Major Ramsay," Ranger answered icily. "In terms of facts – we have nothing but the statement of a woman who thinks of herself to be able to read minds. I tend to rely on more palpable evidences. When we leave we'll be more than ready to face any and all imposing threats. Should you doubt that, feel free to leave. That goes for everybody else in this room."

For a minute, Ram held Ranger's glare and wondered what had gotten into the man he considered a close friend and brother in arms. Ram stood four ranks above Ranger, not that it mattered. He had the same security clearance, was on a par with Ranger in anything governmental and suddenly the man acted as if he was in a class of his own. "I'll stay for the time being," Ram answered indifferent, "but I expect my objection to be duly noted." Ram didn't care about pissing off Ranger or losing his job. He wanted to honor T's ambitious work, destroy the egregious drug and free as many hostages as possible.

"The first month we stay here in Trenton and build up your physical fitness. Each morning at 0500 hours we'll meet in the lobby for a five to eight mile run. At the end of the four weeks, you are expected to complete the five miles in thirty minutes. That includes stretching, rotation drills and calisthenic sessions with enough intensity to produce temporary muscle failure in your BEA colleagues," Ranger continued.

The men looked at him dumbfounded, especially the five who now realized that not backing T was a monumental misjudgment. The Atlanta and Boston teams would be lucky to make it out of this training alive.

"In addition you'll do interval training at the track on the compound to improve your two mile performance; eight laps at four hundred yards once per week. At the end, I want the two miles done in less than ten minutes. Also, three times per week we will move to the aquatics center after our morning run. Amongst other things, you will swim a complete lane in full uniform including Load Carrying Equipment and weapons. The swim training will include walking off the three meter board with full LCE uniform and weapons then the prompt removal of equipment underwater. You will shed your LCE and release your weapons while you remain underwater. Upon completion of the task, you will then swim to the pool's side exiting the water. The aquatics center has been informed and given their OK for this training."

By now the Atlanta and Boston guys started to feel uneasy. Knock and Scotch had both been Recon Marines and were comfortable with anything water; but the rest of them had never been Special Forces and only deployed for land operations.

"Regarding push-ups: I want them all – regular, wide arm and diamond. Bench press: work toward 20 reps at 70% of your body weight, 4 sets. Same goes for seated or bend over row: work toward 70% of your body weight, 20 reps, 4 sets. Front Deltoid raises, Tricep extension and dips: 15 lbs, 4 sets, working toward temporary muscle failure," Ranger looked at his men and dared them to open their mouths.

"Sit-ups: 5 sets, each consisting of timed sets of sit-ups for 60-40-30 seconds with not more than 30 seconds rest between each timed set. Flutter kicks and hanging leg raises: 3 sets of 100 reps. Incline sit-ups: 4 sets of 50 reps. Flat bench leg raises: 4 sets of 30 reps. Questions?"

Lester looked at the stunned faces around the table. He knew Ram, Cal and he could fulfill the demands so far without completely overexerting themselves; but he was pretty sure that the rest of the guys couldn't. Besides, he saw no sense in artificially buffing them up even more than they already were – they had other things to train.

T's way had been the right one, Lester thought. Her real life approach emphasized our limits in re-enacted combat situations. Getting us out there and moving through scenarios as real as possible to see where our weaknesses were and then honing in on each skill specifically. T put us in charge of improving our own deficiencies, always ready with pragmatic advice when needed. She didn't stick to stiff predetermined training schedules that everybody knew – including the enemy. She didn't believe in training yourself dumb in the gym and in controlled situations and then testing your abilities to see how it worked. Fight hard, play dirty, and always be a step ahead. That was T's motto that she had engraved into our minds. She had been right. His cousin had a stick in his ass as stiff as the whole military apparatus itself and it would cost them their damned lives.

"Once per week we will also do a road march," Ranger continued to detail his regiment, "pace 20 minutes per mile, full combat equipment weighing in at 90 lbs. We will start with ten miles and add another two miles each weak until we leave. Regarding your landnav training, I expect you to create your own courses of at least ten kilometers and start at night moving through to daylight. I'm confident you can determine your own proficiency; but you should better not fail once we left for Columbia. After those four weeks here in Trenton, we'll leave for Camp Merrill in Georgia where we will meet up with Ranger School trainees and train survival, combat and ambush techniques in hostile mountain conditions. Food will be reduced to two meals and we'll face an average of 20 hours training with 3.5 hours of sleep. Sometimes we'll go for 24 hours and more without sleep. We'll stay there for three to four weeks before we'll move on to Camp Rudder at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida where we will spend the rest of the time until our departure. At Camp Rudder we will hone everything we trained so far in swamps and jungle-like conditions together with other Special Forces that are preparing for an operation. Questions?"

Again nobody spoke up. Everybody, besides Lester, had dropped his blank face so the others wouldn't see how uncomfortable each of them was in reality. Lester on the other hand showed his feelings openly. He couldn't help the tentacles of wrath and hurt that were clawing at his heart and resolve not to snap. The shock and pain of Ranger's earlier words were still fresh and raw.

"On your way out take one of the schedules regarding weapon and close combat training Tank prepared for you. Your training starts today, we'll meet for our first run tomorrow morning. Dismissed," Ranger ended the meeting and left the room, ignoring his men that slowly came out of there stupor.

"Zero, Willow, Ace, Bull, Harvey," Lester addressed each of them with a fake smile. "Thank you. I hope you are happy," he growled and left the room directly for the gym. Fuck the training schedule. He needed to get in a few rounds with the sandbag before he accidentally killed someone.

"Les, man, look at your hands. You have to stop," Cal and Woody tried to reason with him. Lester had been pounding on the bag for over an hour now, his knuckles swollen and bloody.

"I'll stop when I'm ready to stop," he panted with his anger filled eyes focused on the swinging bag in front of him.

"No, you stop now!" Ram took Lester's sweat-soaked body in a choke hold and muscled the thundering and writhing fighting machine down onto the ground while Cal restrained Lester's kicking legs. Every eye in the gym and at the monitors on four was glued to the escalating situation on two.

Nobody noticed Junior slink from the building and quickly scurry down the street to the diner at the corner. Once there, he slithered into a booth at the end of the long window row. Perched with his back to the wall he had a view not just over the complete shop but also of the street straight down to the Rangeman building. Nobody would be able to surprise and overhear him here.

Junior was filled with anger, envy and malevolence. Ranger had no right to put him on monitor and front desk duties. He'd done nothing wrong. He even apologized for his behavior, though he saw no reason for it. Nonetheless, Ranger kept him away from the mission team and let him slowly rot in front of those stupid fucking monitors even though the IAs were gone. All because of that stupid cunt. Fucking Inferna Angelus, fucking bitch, fucking Ranger - they should all rot in hell. Just as he'd ordered a coffee his telephone rang; 1100 hours on the dot.

"I'm listening," Junior answered the call.

"I'll offer you five hundred grand for regular updates about the mission preparations and Ranger's person. Two hundred fifty now, the rest after he and his team left the country."

"What is it to you?" Junior asked.

"Let's say there are parties who aren't happy with the influence Ranger has gained and his high-handedness. They would like to see him fail, to put him in his place."

The man on the other end of the line took the words right out of Junior's mouth. Ranger needed to get a taste of his own medicine. Junior felt exhilarated at the chance to finally get his revenge. Ranger was going down and it was going to be epic – the end of the Mighty Manoso. Junior was all for anything that would hurt Ranger and his company. He had given everything for Rangeman and was one of its best employees and now Ranger had repeatedly let him down. He would do everything in his power to harm that self-satisfied asshole.

"I'm in," he answered into the phone while keeping his eyes on the street.

"Good. What about the Inferna Angelus?"

"There was an uproar within the mission team concerning that stupid IA bitch. Ranger sent them packing. They left and are no longer part of the team," Junior smirked. Whatever had happened, he was happy that the cunt got dissed.

"Very good," the mysterious man said. "Keep your ears and eyes open. Someone will call you with details regarding the payment." With that the line went dead.

At the Pentagon in DC, DuPuits couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. The news out of Trenton was gratifying. The IAs and with them the female were out of the picture, Fogger would be pleased. Plus, it seemed that Ranger was slowly but surely reacting to the drug cocktail he unknowingly exposed himself to every day. Very good. Very good indeed.

Great Falls, Virginia, three days later

The ancient clock above the stove showed the little hand pointing straight at the intricately hammer-forged 9 while the big hand dangled lifeless downward. It's been a long time since the minute hand had made her last move; but Esme had threatened anybody who dared to take the clock from the wall with a painful death. It was a heirloom from Grief and had been in the family nearly two hundred years. The carving on the backside of the wooden casing said 1818 and Esme felt attached to the truly antique clock with all her heart.

Bright and warm sunshine was streaming through the huge floor to ceiling glass front of the kitchen. Toby's dog Emma laid fast asleep upside down in front of the open sliding door. Summer was quickly spreading with seven-league boots and the doors and windows of the Torres mansion seldom closed now. The air was filled with chirping and twittering and carried the scents of the thousands of flowers and bushes scattered over the property. T, her team and Bobby were sitting around the huge dining table in the kitchen, coffee mugs clutched in their hands, poring over the blueprints of the DEA and FBI buildings in DC that covered the table top.

"I say we stick to our plan. We do Jones and the DEA in broad daylight. Marshall will be at the golf course today and you," Rage looked at T, "will know when Jones leaves his office for lunch. It's good that he varies his break times. That way nobody will be suspicious when you knock and enter his office. You'll switch the receiver from his phone, plant another bug in the room and will be out within two minutes max."

Yeah, T nodded her head deep in thought, that seems to be the best route. Furor, V, Agony, Rev, you will position yourselves with two vehicles 10th/Pennsylvania and can pull a diversionary tactic when necessary. You, Rage, will mingle under the pedestrians outside the front entrance – just in case. I'll stay constantly linked with you so we are all on par with each other and you can react quickly.

"Ay, Boss," the men answered in unison.

T smiled at them. Years ago, Rage had started the whole Ay-circus, Rev and Agony as Navy men immediately jumped in and the rest was history as they say.

OK, in the evening I'll first do Moore and the FBI with the cleaning crew and then off to the Pentagon for a second round of cleaning, T pushed to everybody. Has Peeves set everything in motion? She looked at Furor.

"Yes," her second in command answered. "Your name is Marissa, one of Peeves' grand-daughters, and you're part of F6, the FBI building cleaning crew for the sixth floor, where Moore's office is situated. The head of your crew is one of Peeve's nephews, Marine veteran. He'll provide cover in the event of the operation going south. After that we'll meet with Peeves himself. You keep your Marissa identity and he will get you into the Pentagon where you'll be part of crew U3 section 5. Peeves has no one to cover you there; but he's positive that nobody will smell the rat. In case something goes wrong, we'll be outside with six cars and enough firepower to challenge the 4th of July fireworks. With a little luck it will distract security from you enough so you can go poof. I'll meet with Peeve's for lunch and will go through the details again."

"Who is this Peeves? Is he trustworthy?" Bobby asked nervously into the following silence.

He's become a very good, most trustworthy friend and owns one of the cleaning companies contracted by the government, T leaned back on the corner seat and smiled. We were in Honduras to get a fat-assed idiot of a politician out of the mess he put himself into.

"Just in case you didn't realize it, Puppy," V piped up, "our Angel is holding that apple-polisher in high esteem," he snickered.

Anyway, T glared at V, a team of Marines had tried to get him out and got overpowered. We were told no one survived. So we work ourselves through that fucking heat and humidity, guns blazing, rounds flying and I get hit in the ass. I was fucking bleeding and it hurt like a bitch; but we never stopped until we had sweaty, stinky Mr. Flubber, T made a face that had every one of the IAs roaring with laughter, in our hands.

Bobby looked at the guys, bent over laughing and wondered what this was about.

"Wait," Rage yapped between guffaws and gulping for air. "It gets better. We were about to turn around and beat it out of that shithole, Angel with the round stuck in her bleeding ass, when we suddenly heard a cry for help. We ask Mr. Flubber whether there's someone else and he has the nerve to say 'Who cares, you are here for me'," Rage couldn't continue to talk for lack of oxygen.

"Of course our Angel had the captive already located," Rev continued. "It was the only survivor of the Marines and let me tell ya she was in a really piss-poor mood. So she turned to get the Marine out and Flubber grabbed her arm and flung her back. You should have seen her face, man. She jerked her arm out of his fatty hand, pulled back and struck with the mother blow of all blows. I swear," now even Rev was fighting for air, "her arm sunk into his fat wobbly stomach right up till her elbow. The look of shock on her face," Rev guffawed in sync with Rage. "She immediately pulled her arm back and looked at it in disgust like it was covered with slime. Then, the whole time shaking her arm in disbelieve, she finally turned and limped to the imprisoned Marine with Agony and Rev tripping after her short of suffocating with laughter."

V, Rage, Agony and Rev all had tears streaming down their face while T watched them with narrowed eyes. The Marine's name was Darren, nineteen years old and still wet behind his ears. He was Peeve's youngest son, she finished the tale.

"And you ignored any given order, got him out and by that saved his life," Bobby smiled at her and caressed her cheek. "My heroine," he gave her a lingering kiss.

Just did my job; protecting and fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, T shrugged her shoulders. The IAs don't leave anybody behind. Stupid Flubber-fucker, she grinned after a minute.

At that moment Rage's cell went off and he smiled at the display. "Hey Marvman, how ya doing? … good … no, six p.m. is fine. You wanna dine with us? … Cool, see ya later, man."

"Marvey is coming on his way to work to pick up the receiver and bug for Terrell's office and he's staying for dinner," Rage grinned. "Says, he can't wait to interrogate his Tigger's boyfriend."

"Marvey? Tigger?" Bobby looked confused at T who just shrugged and signed "Marv is Pooh-bear and I am Tigger," before she started to bounce on her seat grinning at Bobby while her guys began another fit of laughter.

"I can't believe you are one of the best rescue teams in the world," Bobby shook his head at Furor while he watched the ruckus in front of him.

"It's our way of kicking back; works perfectly for us," the calm medic smiled.

"You are aware that it is insane to bug offices at the Pentagon, FBI, DEA and NGA? It'll get you straight into the claws of Homeland Security," Bobby turned to Furor all serious now. T and the rest of the guys were joking around and he needed to be sure that at least one of the team had a cool and clear head.

"Bobby," Furor looked at him for a minute. "I know what you're thinking. Don't underestimate our Angel. The difference between Esme and T is similar to that between Rubén and Muerte. Esme is a kid at heart, loves to laugh, to joke around, to be silly and have fun. T on the other hand is the most extraordinary and calculating operative I've ever met. She can kill without batting an eye and in the most heated and hopeless situations she keeps a cool, clear head and gets us out of it. There's a reason we have voted her for our leader; she's the best of us. It sure is crazy what we are about to do; but we need evidence against NISE and there's only one person who can pull a stunt like this. That person, my friend, is none other than our Angel and your woman. Besides our attorneys are informed should anything happen."

Fifteen hours later.

Bobby engulfed Esme in his arms and squeezed her tight with relief. The IAs forced Button, CP and him to stay at Great Falls in case things turned south and T and/or the team was discovered. That way nobody would associate the three men left behind with the IAs. Now Bobby was just glad to have his woman back in his arms.

"Hmmmmm," he nuzzled her hair. "You smell like a truckload of detergents. I think I need to take you upstairs and have a bath with you," he suckled at her earlobe and nipped down her neck. "We also have to get rid of those brown contacts and that horrible face mask covering your scars. They totally take away your beauty and make you look all wrong," he sucked at her pulse point. "Thinking about it I guess I have to wash and kiss every inch of you to get rid of that smell and deceit."

Esme chuckled, grabbed his hair and pulled his head back from where he was still suckling at her pulse point. Soon Baby, she smiled and kissed him. We have to do a hardware check first then I'm all yours for days to come.

"Mmmmmmmm," Bobby rolled his eyes with joy and moaned. "I love it when you call me Baby," he murmured as he dove back onto her neck. Makes me feel all cherished and loved.

"Come on, Puppy. Let go of her neck. We aren't finished, yet," V clapped Bobby on his back as he entered the vestibule.

"Why the heck are you all calling me puppy?" Bobby glared at V.

"Suits you," Rev slung his arm around Bobby's shoulder and pulled him into his side. "You have those brown, saaaaaaad puppy dog eyes," he teased Bobby.

"Besides," Rage was next to pass him. "I doubt you would prefer us to call you Baby," he grinned and made goo-goo eyes at Bobby earning him a mental head-slap from Esme.

"Ouch … fuck … that's harassment, Boss."

Harassment my ass. Let's get these bugs checked. Someone just promised to wash the smell of detergent off me, she grinned at her brothers and pulled Bobby after her to one of their offices.

Bobby stood in the big room with his mouth agape. He knew the IAs' other smaller office. Three work stations with top notch computers for fighting the paperwork, surfing the web and gaming. This, he once more looked around the room, this was a mini-version of Rangeman's high clearance floor on five. Another three work stations each equipped with three 24" flat screens plus a big 103" HD plasma screen on the farthest wall that apparently could be accessed from the work stations.

"Holy Fuck," Bobby spluttered perplexed.

"Yep," Rage put his hands around Bobby's neck like a collar. "Puppies have to be on-leash here."

V took a seat at one of the work stations and fired up the computer.

Bobby was still staring around the room. "I never pegged the Inferna Angelus Syndicate to be so generous in equipping their employees," he stammered.

"They are not," V answered with his back to Bobby. "This all belongs to the boss."

"What boss?" Bobby looked at him confused.

Rage, Agony and Rev all rolled their eyes in unison. "Man, how dumb are you?"

Stop it, Rage. You had enough fun at his cost. Calm down, T answered. She was back in leader-mode.

"No, wait," Bobby spoke up. "Enlighten me, I want to understand what's going on here. Whose stuff is all this?" he motioned around the room.

T looked at him for a moment and sighed. Theoretically, it's mine.

"Wha…? But… How?" Bobby looked at her dumbfounded.

Bobby, what's my surname? T looked at him with a smile. He really had no clue who she was.

"Torres."

Do you know anybody else who goes or better went by that name?

"Grief – Nuno Torres."

He was my dad, Bobby. He adopted me when I came to the States to get the paper stuff straight.

Bobby stared at her while he tried to get his bearings back. "Does that mean all this," he made a general hand motion, "the house and property belong to you?" he asked stunned.

Yep. Plus these computers, she smiled at him. Poor Bobby had no idea what exactly the Torres-estate included.

"Wow!" Bobby grabbed the next chair and sat down. "I always thought that surname-thing was a coincident."

"OK," V piped up, "system's running. Jones, Moore, Terrell and DuPuits are all online," he pointed at the small four pop-up windows on the screen in front of him. "I'll set up Jones and Moore at this desk and Terrell and DuPuits at the other," he motioned with his head to his right. That way each object has its own screen and there's still one screen left to work on at each station."

T nodded her confirmation. Very good. I want both stations manned from 0600 to 2200; the grave yard shift can be done by just one of you. Furor, make a schedule including Button and CP, please. Rage you do tonight's shift.

"But … V is already sitting there," the 6'5" behemoth in front of her whined. Since the adrenalin of their last stint had left his body he really was a pain in the ass.

But nothing, you are constantly giving my boyfriend shit. Now man up and deal with the consequences or would you prefer to meet me on the mats? Esme locked eyes with him.

Rage glared at her then quickly jostled V out of the chair and started his duty before he got into hostile water. Nobody was keen on mat time with T when she was angry.

Bobby had watched the way T has been dealing with the IAs over the last few days and couldn't help but be majorly proud of her. She was a natural at juggling the powder kegs these men could be. Slowly, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. "Does that mean that you are finished with being boss, now?" He nuzzled her neck.

Uhuh, Esme leaned back into his strong body.

Well, in that case, he looked up into the smirking eyes of the IAs. "The puppy's taking care of the boss now. We are offline until further notice." In a quick motion he threw Esme over his shoulder and was gone before any of the guys could make a smart comment.