Once again, thank you to all who have left a review, especially Mila and Nans. I very much appreciate it! Special thanks to my friend, N, a huge Harry fan who has been very instrumental in helping me get this fic done. Any errors are all mine.

"Angie, do you remember the men in the room with Admiral Nelson and Dr. Lamont?"

The young woman whimpered, not knowing what to say. She'd told her the truth before: that she was there to document terms on a usage agreement. But there was more she hadn't mentioned particularly about one of the men. She didn't want to betray the admiral and yet, she did not want the pain to return.

"Tell her, Angie!" Nelson shouted from across the room, making the decision for her. "Tell her everything you can remember!"

Glancing from the shackled admiral to the woman, her breath labored with fear and adrenaline, she said, "Yes, I remember Mr. Stapp and Mr. Molina."

Parrish smiled at the woman. "Good. Now, do you know what they were doing in the room?"

Once again Angie's gaze went to the admiral. At his reassuring nod, she continued. "I'm not sure. I thought Mr. Molina was a lawyer for Dr. Lamont. He didn't say much. But I remember Mr. Stapp talking to me. He showed me a medallion." Angie was pleased that she could remember that detail, a detail that hopefully meant they'd release the admiral and her.

Masgard stepped away, urging Parrish to follow. "Post hypnotic suggestion. If she was subjected to it, then there's a good chance he was too. That would explain his not knowing anything about Invictus."

Rage simmered beneath the cool surface as she digested his words. This wrinkle, this brick wall, was not part of the plan. Balling her hands into tight fists, she spoke very calmly. "Kill the girl. She's no longer of any use to me."

Hearing these words, Angie immediately looked to Nelson whose own face registered the same alarm.

Masgard took a step towards Angie and picked up the scalpel. A quick slice to the jugular and she would bleed out in a matter of minutes. Painful only for a second.

Parrish stared hard at Nelson, her eyes filled with nothing but contempt. "Wait!" Grabbing a vial of clear liquid, she filled a syringe and shoved Masgard aside. "I've changed my mind." Grabbing Angie's arm, she plunged the needle into a vein and then tossed aside the syringe. "We'll even the odds a little and let our two problems resolve themselves."

Angie watched helplessly as the needle went into her arm, feeling the burn of whatever she'd been injected with almost immediately. Within a few minutes she could feel her heart racing and an intense heat that felt like her body boiling from the inside. Fear mixed with panic caused her breathing to increase so rapidly she thought she would suffocate.

Noticing her distress, Nelson yelled out, "What did you give her?"

Walking towards him, Parrish motioned for Masgard to hand her the dual-sided, curved-blade knife from the tray and smiled smugly. "A hallucinogen. In about half an hour your little secretary is going to go out of her mind." Signaling to her men to get him on his feet, she ran her finger over the smooth, black handle almost lovingly. Coming to stand inches from his face, she dropped her hands to her sides. "You know, I said I wouldn't hesitate to kill you and I had the opportunity at Weymouth but in a moment of weakness, I let you live. I realize what a mistake that was. I underestimated you on so many levels and I spent five hundred and fourteen days in prison because of my oversight. I won't make that mistake twice." She brought a hand up and brushed away the hair plastered to his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. "I had such a crush on you once." She smiled softly, wistfully. "And now, look at you. Not exactly the picture of decorum."

Nelson tried to pull away at her touch but the strong hands gripping his arms held him firmly in place.

She took a step back and in one fluid motion, brought her right hand forward quickly, plunging the knife into his thigh. Leaning forward, she spoke in measured, even tones. "I concede the victory to you but you won't walk out of here." Giving the knife handle a twist, she relished the involuntary, choked cry that tore from his throat, the look of agonizing pain as she yanked it free. "Cut him loose and take him to room one."

The door to the room opened and a non-descript man carrying an automatic rifle entered. His gaze swept around the room, settling on Masgard, and then hurrying over.

Nelson was dragged from the room, leaving behind a bloody swath from his soaked trousers in his wake. Stepping over the mess, Masgard rushed over to Parrish. "We have a problem."

Dropping the knife onto the tray and pushing it aside, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What kind of problem?"

"A helicopter. It's made three passes already and on the last one it hovered overhead for several minutes. We may not be visible to the naked eye but there's equipment that can find us." Licking his lips, Masgard glanced over at Angie. "Look, you're not going to get anything out of her and Nelson is a bust. It's time to cut and run."

Nodding her agreement, she said, "All right, clear everything out."

"What about Nelson and the girl?"

She might have conceded to Nelson but she wasn't finished yet. Tugging at the ends of her sky blue Dior pantsuit, she let out a resolved sigh. "Leave them to me. Now go." With Masgard gone, Lydia Parrish strolled over to Angie. Leaning against the table, Parrish placed her hand on Angie's chin and turned her head so Angie was now looking at her. "There's a man in the other room. He wants to hurt you. He's already killed someone, a woman like you, and her blood is all over his clothes. You need to protect yourself. Do you understand?"

Angie nodded slowly. "Yes."

Motioning to the one remaining henchman, she issued instructions. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Lock the door when you leave and then join us outside."

The man nodded then left to carry out his orders.

-xxx-

Sitting in the passenger seat of the black panel truck, his fingers toying with the balaclava in his hand, Lee looked over at the driver.

Monty Jacobs was the least likely special agent in charge that Lee had ever met, which no doubt worked in his favor. The man was not tall, with dark, thinning hair that he kept short, a bland face that blended nicely into a crowd, and a nose that had obviously been broken - more than once by the look of it. Lee wasn't sure how Jacobs and the admiral had become acquainted but if the admiral trusted him then Lee figured he should too. And so far, he had to admit that he'd underestimated the man.

True to Jacobs' word, they were met at the hotel by the ASAC in exactly twenty minutes and driven to a field near the airport where a waiting helicopter flew the four men to Half Moon Bay. Once on the ground they were met by another agent and driven to a non-descript warehouse where Jacobs and eight men from the FBI's tactical team were waiting. Minutes later Jacobs was settled into the driver's seat and they were on the road, Lee occupying the front seat in the cab while Sharkey, Kowalski, and Jamieson rode in the back with the rest of the team.

Once they were on their way, Lee decided it was time for answers. "Where are we headed?"

"Abandoned farm building near La Honda." At Lee's questioning look, Jacobs continued. "Santa Cruz Mountains. Drug Enforcement was scanning the area using heat sensors. The sensors pick up any form of body heat and they found a lot of heat coming from this one particular building."

"And you know for sure this is where they're holding the admiral? How do you know it's not just a flop house for a bunch of migrant workers?"

"Could be but whoever's there is trying very hard not to be seen. We're ninety-nine percent sure this is the place."

"I'd feel better if it were one hundred percent. It's always the one percent we have to worry about."

"Pessimist," Jacobs said, gunning the engine over the clear stretch of pavement.

"Realist," Lee shot back, relieved that they were finally on their way to the admiral and Angie but worried at what they might find when they got there.

"Is that why you brought along a doctor?" Checking the mirrors, Jacobs turned off the main highway and onto a two-lane road.

Lee stared out the side window, seeing nothing but darkness with the occasional house light dotting the view. "I know Admiral Nelson. He doesn't go along quietly. And if they were targeting him, there's no telling what kind of shape he'll be in."

Jacobs glanced over at his passenger. "Speaking from experience, I take it?"

Lee didn't answer the question. He didn't need to. Changing the subject, he asked, "Couldn't you move in with your tactical team and check it out?" Hell, if Lee had known about it sooner, he would have checked it out. Stealth recon was something he was very familiar with.

"Well, that was the initial plan but they have look-outs and we're pretty sure they spotted the helicopter. We had to move quickly."

That news made Lee's stomach lurch. He'd seen it too many times. Clear the premises and leave the victims behind, usually dead or close to it.

Jacobs glanced over at Lee, seeing the grimace on his face even in the dim light of the dashboard. "It'll be okay. We'll get to them." They were the only words of assurance he could offer and honestly, he wasn't buying them either.

-xxx-

Gritting his teeth against the waves of pain and ensuing nausea, the constant involuntary tremors that wracked his body, he carefully moved his hands away from the wound, cringing at the sight of the gaping tear in his flesh still leaking blood. It was pure dumb luck that she'd missed the femoral artery but that didn't mean it wasn't bad. He needed to do something to stem the flow of blood but all he had were the clothes on his back. No belt or shoe laces to act as a tourniquet. Left with only one option, he pulled what was left of the T-shirt over his head, tore it so he had a long strip, and then wrapped it tightly above the wound, nearly passing out once he finally got the ends tied together. Using his right foot to gain purchase on the tile floor, he slowly pushed himself backward the few feet until his back was against the wall then closed his eyes against the engulfing pain and fatigue. He wanted to hold onto the faint hope that Lee was looking for them but that hope was fading by the minute. While he had no doubt that Lee would do whatever it took to find them, would he be in time? And what would he find when he got there?

It wasn't the first time Nelson was resigned to his fate. He'd been precariously close to death more times than he could count; he made his peace with God on a regular basis. But what of Angie? She didn't deserve any of this. As the tremors intensified, he pressed both palms against the floor and closed his eyes to the brief assault. They seemed to come in waves now, more frequently but thankfully, only lasting a few seconds. Using the back of his hand to wipe away the cold sweat blurring his vision, he looked around the room. The window where they'd once watched him was dark. The room was empty. He was alone.

Where was Angie? What had they done to her?

Feeling an overpowering sense of dread and despair, he ran a bloodied hand through his hair and gave in to the sudden waves of grief. He'd failed her. She had trusted him to keep her safe and he'd let her down. If she got out of there, would she ever forgive him? Would he, could he, ever forgive himself? Shaking his head to his silent question, his resounding, "no", echoed off the white walls.

Hearing the door open, Nelson looked up to see to the two people enter the room. His emotions shifted from grief to anger when he saw the man roughly set her on the floor, place something in her hand, and then quickly exit the room. "Angie," he called, desperately trying to get to his feet only to falter when the pain was too overwhelming. "Angie, can you hear me?"

Slowly, the young woman's gaze settled on him, the look of fear instantly registering on her face. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she backed into the wall, reacting with panic when she hit the hard surface. Bringing up her right hand, staring at the Glock as if it were an extension of her hand, lifting the weapon high into the air, she seemed to forget her panic for a moment, mesmerized by the object.

Nelson reacted with alarm when he realized what the man had given her. Unable to move and even if he could, nowhere to go, Nelson tried the only option he had left. He could talk to her. Trying to steady his voice, he spoke as softly as he could, realizing too late though that any sound echoed in the room. "Angie, it's me, Nelson. Remember?"

The sound of his voice startled her, making her jump. She'd forgotten there was another presence in the room. Her chest began to rise quickly as her pulse and breathing quickened.

He hoped something recent and familiar would jar her memory. "We danced together at the reception. You wore a black dress. Remember, Angie?"

His arms were extended with the intent of choking the life out of her. He was going to kill her – just as she'd been told. She had to stop him. With a resounding boom, the gun went off.

As the .45 caliber bullet immediately tore through muscle, tissue and bone, his face registered first confusion and then sharp, hot pain. Looking up at her, he managed to mouth the words, "I'm sorry" before slumping sideways and slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

Angie could still smell the gunshot residue; could feel the heat from the smoking .45. Looking down, she stared in wonder at the stark contrast of dark red against white as his blood began to pool on the floor next to his motionless body. And then, as clarity prevailed and the enormity of what she'd just done hit her full force, the secretary let the gun slip from her hand and she began to scream.