As always, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review. I very much appreciate it! Also, the timeline in this fic doesn't exactly match what's in Voyage mostly because that timeline was pretty squirrely. Many, many thanks to N for pointing out some of my glaring errors.

With the walls closing in on him, Lee couldn't sit around and wait so he'd gone for a walk down to the Embarcadero to clear his head. The view of the San Francisco Bay wasn't really a substitute for the open sea but it helped. The message was waiting for Lee when he walked into the lobby. Quickly reading the contents, he stuffed the paper into his pocket, and then turned to ask the pretty receptionist for directions to a local watering hole called The Messenger. Afraid he might be too late, Lee rushed out of the hotel and jogged the two blocks to the bar, stopping abruptly to avoid running into a woman with a stroller. Allowing her to pass, he threw open the ornate door and brushed past the hostess, scanning the patrons and not finding the familiar face. Running a hand through his hair, he turned on his heels and was about to leave when the hostess called out to him.

"Excuse me sir, are you here to meet Mr. Montague?"

"Yes, yes, I am!" Lee answered a bit too excitedly.

"Right this way."

The hostess led him up a flight of stairs to an area closed off to the rest of the bar patrons. Sitting in a corner booth and nursing a beer sat Monty Jacobs.

Lee thanked the waitress and then slid in across the table from the agent, anxious to hear whatever news he could tell him.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery. And with a coupon," he tapped his finger on the leather case containing his badge and identification that rested on the table, "I can get us a private room." He reached for the beer. "At least for an hour or so." Taking a sip and then licking his upper lip, he lifted the glass and asked, "Want one?"

"No," Lee said, curtly. Pleasantries were over. He wanted to get down to business.

Jacobs purposely looked down when he spoke, talking in a low voice despite their empty surroundings, and running his finger around the rim of the nearly full glass. "I met with Molina, the agent in the room with Nelson and Lamont. Nelson's secretary, Angie, she's very important. Without her, the project is dead." Jacobs looked up and sat back.

Lee leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and about to press for more information, when a waitress appeared next to him.

"What'll you have, handsome?"

Before Lee could wave her off, Jacobs spoke up. "My friend here will have the same as me."

"You got it."

Waiting until she was out of earshot, Jacobs explained, "If you don't order something, she'll keep coming by."

Not really caring for the particulars, Lee jumped back into their discussion. "Angie? How? The admiral has been working with Lamont for almost a year now. The project is dead without him."

Looking down again, Jacobs once again spoke in a low voice. "Nelson is only half of the project. Lamont is the other half."

Lee couldn't hide his confusion. "What do you mean he's only half the project and Lamont is the other half? They worked on the project together…"

Jacobs' held both hands up. "Simmer down there, chief. Let me explain. Yes, Nelson and Lamont have been working together but they haven't been working on the project as a whole." Seeing the blank look on Lee's face, he could tell the captain wasn't following him. Sitting back in the booth and letting out a frustrated sigh, he tried to think of a better explanation. "Okay, think of it this way. The project is made up of two separate components that, when put together, create one massive component. You with me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Nelson has the specs on one component up here." Jacobs' tapped the side of his head. "Lamont has the specs on the other component up here." He tapped the other side of his head. "Until they put those two components together, that massive component means nothing. Still with me?"

"Yes." Lee was starting to feel like he was being spoken to like a small child.

"Remember me telling you that Nelson and Lamont met with an expert in deep hypnosis?"

"I remember."

"Well, our Kreskin is really a guy named Stapp and what he did was lock away those specs in a vault deep within the mind."

"Using deep hypnosis."

"Now you're getting it." Jacobs picked up his glass and saluted the captain, taking a small sip. Licking his lips, he continued. "In order to unlock the vault and bring those two components together so they make the massive component, there needs to be a key. That key is your girl, Angie. Now for this whole thing to work properly, Angie can't know she's the key, otherwise she could inadvertently say the trigger, you know, the word that unlocks Nelson's vault or Lamont's vault, at the wrong place or time and that could be bad. So she was put under as well and given her own trigger."

Lee leaned back as the waitress returned with his beer. "Thanks," he said to her then moved it off to the side.

"When she's in a room with Nelson and Lamont and she hears her trigger, then she'll remember everything, including their individual triggers. Once they hear their trigger, Nelson and Lamont will remember everything, every detail, about the project. I guess Nelson couldn't risk conventional security measures for something this important. He needed to make sure that without all three players, the information was secure. And before you ask, this was Nelson's idea."

"So he must have had a very strong suspicion then." Bringing both hands together and resting them on the table, Lee let out a deep sigh. "I wish he would have told me. I could have helped."

"You know how he can be. He would keep you out of it to protect you." Shaking his head, Jacobs half laughed. "Harry is a brilliant man but sometimes he underestimates the danger."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"That's how we first met: trying to get Seaview's skipper out of a tight jam." Jacobs locked eyes with Lee and gave him the hint of a smile before returning his attention to his beer.

Lee remembered the situation clearly. He'd been ambushed coming back from the mountains late one night shortly after becoming Seaview's captain and spent three harrowing days tied up in a warehouse in Oxnard. He never knew Jacobs had been involved with his rescue.

"Harry had just lost his first captain." Jacobs ran his hand down the side of the glass, wiping away the beads of moisture, and laughed. "He'd be damned if he was going to lose you too! As I recall, I had to rein him in a couple of times." Jacobs fixed his blue-gray eyes on Crane.

Crossing his arms and leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, Lee grinned. "What can I say? Everything I know, I learned from him."

This time Jacobs' laugh was incredulous. "You think?" The two men sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Jacobs spoke again. "By the way Molina said it was all purely happenstance that Angie is even involved. The arrangement Molina made was supposed to be with the conference planner but she became ill. The admiral called Angie to check in and mentioned the planner being sick. She volunteered to come up and help and well, you know the rest. Nelson did not want to use her – it was Lamont's idea. He talked to Angie, she agreed, and because he didn't have a choice, Nelson acquiesced."

Truthfully, Lee was very relieved to hear that. He knew the admiral would never intentionally put Angie in harm's way but with everything Jacobs had told him, he was starting to think otherwise. "Do you know why they left the conference early?"

Jacobs shook his head. "Not really but my guess is that Nelson wanted to throw off anyone who might be watching him. I spoke to the pilot of the chartered flight and he was told he would only have one passenger, a woman. I think Nelson planned to put her on a plane and make sure she was safe and sound and then use himself as a decoy. Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned."

"You mentioned that Angie has to hear her trigger when she's with Nelson and Lamont. This trigger, what if someone randomly says it?"

"That's the beauty of a three-handed game. It means nothing without all the pieces. Angie will only say the triggers to Nelson and Lamont when she hears her trigger in their presence. Oh, almost forgot, Nelson put in one more failsafe."

"And that is?"

"Her trigger can only be said by one person."

Leave it to the admiral to create something so complex. "And this trigger, who tells her?"

Jacobs smiled. "Well, Nelson being Nelson, who do you think?"

"Me?" Lee laughed out loud. "I don't have a clue what it might be."

"Yes, you do. I'm told it's something only you and Angie know. Something you recently found out."

Lee wracked his brain for what that might be, the only thing coming to mind was a conversation they'd had just before she left for San Francisco. Knowing she was alone in the office while the admiral was away, he had stopped by to say hi. She had just returned from picking up a picture that she'd gotten enlarged and framed.

"Edith enclosed the photo in a card she'd sent him for Christmas and true to form, he put it away in his desk and forgot about it. He'd sent me on a mission to locate some information, I found it, and thought it was adorable."

"I don't think the admiral would want it known that he was adorable."

She showed him the picture of a tanned, broad-shouldered, strawberry blond young man standing proudly at the bow of a small, fiberglass sloop, its name just visible in dark letters. "He's eighteen there and he's adorable. Edith said it was his first sailboat. He bought it with money he'd earned over several summers. I thought I would frame it and give it to him for his birthday."

Lee reached over and picked up the beer, taking a long draw before setting it down. Easily recalling the name of the boat, he knew without a doubt what the trigger was: Sanctuary.

-xxx-

Nelson had been kicked awake from a restless sleep and dragged from the small room to a larger room with an open shower. He'd been too weak to stand so instead he'd been dropped onto the floor while stingingly cold water rained down from a hose mounted on the wall. Opening his mouth, he took in gulps of fresh water, feeling slightly better despite the bone-numbing cold that caused his teeth to chatter. When the water stopped, someone threw a t-shirt and his khaki trousers at him and told him to get dressed. Brushing the wet hair off his forehead, he tried to make his fingers work enough to pull on the shirt but the tremors in his right hand made it too difficult.

"Get him on his feet and get him dressed."

He had no strength to fight as they got him into the clothes, shivering uncontrollably as the fabric clung to his damp skin. With one man on either side of him they half carried, half dragged him to another darkened room where he was pushed against a concrete wall. He was powerless to resist the leather cuffs forced onto his wrists and could only watch as each hand was attached to a load binder connected to a thick chain. The hum of a motor sounded in a corner and suddenly his arms were being hoisted over his head until his shoulders burned and his feet barely touched the ground. Water trickled down his forehead and clung in droplets to the reddish-white stubble on his chin and along his jaw. Licking his lips, drawing in whatever moisture he could, he tried to steel himself against the next wave of assault only to feel relief when the men left, leaving him alone in the dark. He mustered a little strength and tried to struggle against the bindings but any attempt caused his knees to shake and razor sharp pains to shoot through both shoulders. His only option to alleviate the pain was to face forward and try to stand completely still. Trying to settle his mind and breathing, he began to work his way through something familiar like the periodic table. He'd gotten as far as the thirtieth element, zinc, when the door opened and a bright light came on, causing him to lower his head and close his eyes tightly. After a few minutes he looked up, squinting to make out the two figures that entered the room. Blinking several times as his eyes adjusted, he felt his stomach lurch.

"Angie?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, wanting to plead to him for help but knowing it was pointless. He couldn't help her. No one could. As the two men lifted her onto the cold, metal table, she closed her eyes tightly, unable to stop the tears that seeped through. She tried to be brave, to show him that she wasn't afraid. But she was. She was so afraid that her whole body shook and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Opening her eyes, all she could see were the blurry hanging lights overhead but she could hear him. He was yelling with a tone in his voice she'd never heard before: fear. He was afraid for her and that only fueled her own sense of panic even more.

"No, you can't do this to her! It's me you want, not her!" Ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulders, Nelson yanked first his right arm down, then his left arm, trying to force the cuff off his wrist. But all it did was cut into his flesh. The leather was too stiff and what little strength he'd managed to muster was waning. His knees buckled under him, causing his feet to lose purchase and suddenly his arms bore the entire weight of his body, the pain nearly causing him to pass out. A bucket of cold water was tossed onto him and suddenly he was lurching forward, trying to find his balance as water streamed down his face and blurred his vision.

The sharp, rhythmic click of heels announced her entrance into the room. "You idiots, lower him. I want him conscious for this."

The tension in the chain eased and Nelson's feet were firmly, if not unsteadily, on the floor. Sucking in air, he looked up to find himself face to face with Lydia Parrish. "Let her go, please," he pleaded, shaking his head. "Let her go. It's me you want, not her. She's innocent in this."

Running the edge of the scalpel along the side of his neck, stopping just under his chin, she smiled. "You need to shave. Then again, I like it. Gives you a raffish air. But what I think doesn't matter, does it? We should ask our little secretary what she thinks. After all, she's in love with you."

Nelson looked up at her, trying to comprehend what she'd just said, shaking his head. "No, that's not true."

Parrish turned towards Angie. "Tell him!"

Blood rushed to Angie's ears filling her head with a loud, steady hum that canceled out all other sound. She saw the woman look at her expectantly but had no idea why.

"Leave her out of this! It's me you want. She has nothing to do with it."

"With what, Harry? What do you think I want with you?"

He shook his head, confused. There was something, a name, they'd asked him about before, but he couldn't remember.

"I believe Invictus is what you're trying to remember. And I don't believe for moment that she's innocent. If I can't get what I want from you, I'll get it from her. But you are right about one thing." Piercing his skin with the tip of the knife, she watched the dark red blood drip onto his soiled T-shirt. "It is you I want. I do wish we had more time, Harry. Oh, the things I would do."

Swallowing back the rising bile, his voice shaking from anger, he said, "Let her go."

"Beg me." She moved the scalpel to the V neckband of his shirt and dragged the edge in a straight line down his chest, slicing open the thin fabric and his skin in the process.

Closing his eyes tightly, he choked back a sob. "Please, please let her go. You can do whatever you want to me but please let her go."

"Chivalrous to the bitter end, aren't you admiral?"

"She's innocent. She doesn't know anything. I'm the one you want."

Leaning in until she was merely inches away from his left ear, her breath hot on his skin, she whispered a barely audible, "no" then quickly took a step back and pointed at the two men standing next to Nelson. "Hold him up. I wouldn't want him to miss anything." Turning her attention to Angie, she stood over the younger woman, pushed away the loose fabric of her blouse, and positioned the scalpel. "This will hurt."

Closing her eyes, Angie braced herself for what could be the last moment of her life and silently prayed.

Holding the knife in place against Angie's bare flesh, Parrish turned towards Nelson. "This is your last chance, Harry. Tell me about Invictus and the girl remains untouched." She smiled at her own choice of words.

Unable to meet her gaze, his chin dropped to his chest. "I don't know. I don't. If I knew, I would tell you. I would do anything if you'd just let her go."

"Your devotion is touching but sadly, in vain."

Despite having his arms held tightly, Nelson struggled as hard as his body and strength would allow, all to no avail. The more he fought, the tighter their grip and when he could barely hold his head up, they did it for him, forcing him to watch as Parrish cut into Angie's skin and inserted a small disc no bigger than a nickel. The process took all of five minutes and when it was done, the two men let go of Nelson, letting him collapse in a heap onto the floor. Clenching his hands against the cold floor, the repetitive sound of "I'm sorry" were muted by Angie's screams.

-xxx-

The call came just before midnight. Lee, who had fallen asleep in the chair with the telephone on his lap, jumped at the sound. "Yes?"

"Lee, we know where they are."

Lee gripped the phone tighter and sat forward in the chair. It had been three days of waiting, three days of pacing a worn path in the carpet, three days of praying they were still alive. Maybe now they were getting somewhere. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to brush away the last remnants of sleep fogging his brain. "Where?"

Jacobs frowned into the receiver. "I'll debrief you when I see you."

Lee rolled his eyes. Jacobs was playing his FBI card and making Crane wait once more. "Okay, at least tell me how you know it's the right place and this isn't just a snipe hunt?"

It had also been three very long days for Monty Jacobs and he was tired of having his every move questioned. "Look, contrary to what you might think, I am quite capable of doing my job."

"Sorry." Closing his eyes, still trying to clear his head, Lee said, "We're coming with you."

"Why do you think I'm calling you? And what do you mean, we?"

"There are four of us." Chief Sharkey, Seaman Kowalski, and Doctor Will Jamieson had arrived two days ago and had taken the adjoining room next to Captain Crane's. They'd been ordered to get some rest so at the piercing ring of the phone, all three men were up and anxiously awaiting orders.

"You know we have our own very experienced team, right?"

"I want my men along."

"All right, all right. I'll send an agent to pick you up in twenty. Be ready to roll."