Chapter 86

Moscow

Constantine Korolev, Politburo member and one of the heads of the DVX, squeezed his wife's hand as they descended the staircase on the way to the dining room for breakfast. The scurrying of a servant from the dining room, across the hall and into the kitchen told them that their house guest was already at table. Their guest's arrival the previous day had been wholly unexpected. Constantine was relieved that Ava had retained the famed composure that had marked her as one of the most capable of political wives and hostesses.

Ava smiled up at him. She murmurred, "Do not worry about me."

"I like worrying about you," replied Constantine. As usual, he was dressed conservatively but extremely polished. In their long marriage, Ava had never let him leave the house with less than a pristine appearance. Appearances were important. They both knew that. At the foot of the stairs, Constantine paused. He reached for her face and leaned into her as if to give her a kiss. He said, "I will take you to the airport myself. Tomorrow."

"But, it must not seem-" Ava began to say.

"I do not care. I want you away," insisted Constantine. "Please, do not argue." He resumed their walk.

"It's time?" asked Ava softly.

"I believe so."

At table, Constantine pulled the chair out for Ava. Their guest stood up and greeted them.

"I cannot tell you the pleasure I feel when I dine at your table, Ava," said Cesar Faison. "I must apologize again for not informing Constantine that I was visiting."

Ava smiled. "You are always welcome, Cesar. Your visits have been so few these last years. I hope this visit is longer than a few days."

"With your indulgence, I would like to stay at least a week," said Faison.

"I will be happier with two weeks," countered Ava. "With the children gone, the house is too empty."

"Then I have no choice but to thank you for your hospitality."

They all began to eat. Unlike normal times, the servants did not linger in the room. Their guest was an unnerving presence. They came to the room only when summoned by a small bell.

"Your visit is well timed, Cesar," said Ava.

"I thought it was most inconvenient," said Cesar.

Ava sipped her tea. Without a hint of tension, she said, "You can keep Constantin company. It is time for my usual visit to Sochi. As you know my family is from there."

"Yes, I do recall that."

"Her grandmother and some aunts and uncles live in Sochi," supplied Constantine. "And, our daughter, Nina goes to school there for Chemistry."

"Your son is on special assignment?" asked Faison. "What was his name? Does he like the service?"

"Ivan. He likes the position and its privileges as any young man would," said Constantin. He sipped his coffee without a trace of nerves.

"Where is he assigned?" asked Faison.

Constantin replied in as careless a tone as he could manage. He knew fully how well versed Faison was in that particular special assignment - guarding Andrew Scorpio. "At the moment, he is in Sydney, Australia."

"Tell his superior to inform our son to call his mother," said Ava.

"He may be busy with … extracurricular activities," said Constantin. "Service officers are known to play hard, my dear Ava, as you well know."

"If he is safe, that is all for the best."

"I am surprised you allowed him to join the service instead of the military," observed Faison. "Your family are Army officers no?"

"I blame his mother's influence on his career choice though he has my convictions - loyalty and duty to the country."

Faison laughed. "The tendency and talents for covert intelligence do run in families. You should have known that before marrying one of the Nemcova sisters."

"I was blinded by love. That is all the reason I need," said Constantin. "Why DID you marry me, Ava, instead of the handsome officers that surrounded you?"

"Because you made me laugh. Three times," replied Ava. "Looks can fade but not wits, humor or devotion."

"Devotion, yes, that is … is very true. Devotion is forever," said Faison.

World Security Bureau HQ - New York City

Unlike the stereotypical idea of a lone lightbulb illuminating a broken man in a darkened room, the interrogation room was bathed in a soft and soothing light and the man in question was hardly a broken one. On the ebony hardback chair bolted to the floor sat one Martin Ross, disgraced Bureau chief. His chin grazed his chest. His thick dark hair was matted and stuck out in all directions. Patches of perspiration dotted his dress shirt. Both of his ankles were securely chained to the chair's legs. He could move but not very much. His arms and hands flexed periodically keeping them from going numb.

At the sound of the door opening, Ross said, "Okay, who's next?"

"Just me," said Frisco stepping into the room. He took a seat opposite the table.

"Didn't think you'd come back for seconds."

"The Suits are after me. Is there anything, anything at all, that you want to say before they get here?" asked Frisco.

"One … one request."

"What's that?"

"Don't let me leave this building alive," said Martin in a low voice. "Lionel won't do it but you can."

Frisco said nothing. His expression did not change.

"You've always hated me. It'll be easy to make it look like an accident."

Frisco blinked.

"Come on, Frisco. Do it! I'm forgiving you in advance!" cried out Ross. "Anything is better than what I'm going to be put through. DOJ is gonna treat me with kid gloves while I'm put on public trial. After my sentencing, I'll disappear and the lab coat guys can do whatever they want with my head. When I'm squeezed out or a mental vegetable, I'll end up in solitary at a no name military prison for the rest of my life."

Frisco remained silent.

"I've always envied you, all of you."

"All?"

"The Musketeers - Donely, Scorpio, Devane and Jones. You guys made things look easy," sneered Ross. "But it wasn't for the rest of us. We worked our butts off for weeks and months and get one commendation. No headlines or a place on the pedestal. But we stayed around, did our jobs while the four of you waltzed off into the sunset. You all stayed friends. The Bureau's not the place for friends."

"Maybe it should be," said Frisco. "We did our jobs same as you. We … we sacrificed a lot more than you or anyone will ever know. Each one of us has paid our dues one way or the other."

"I didn't see you thumbing your nose at the perks and the influence," said Ross. "Anna, Robert and Sean used Bureau resources every chance they got."

"I never signed up for the glory. Neither did Robert, Anna or Sean. We wanted to make the world a better place," said Frisco. "That hasn't changed."

"Your NAMES mean something, Frisco. The cadets learn about your cases, your techniques. Me? I'll go down as the biggest traitor the Bureau's ever had. Me!" Ross' voice broke. "It's … it's not even ME. It's that twisted Faison. He MADE me into a traitor." His voice descended into a whisper. "What else has he put in my head? I'm a time bomb. I know it."

"Faison's a renowned author and living a care-free life. Nearly untouchable," said Frisco. "While you are …"

Ross snorted. "Lionel and his medicos were the good guys and you're the bad guy? Connie should be doing this not you."

"She's busy."

Ross' eyes glinted with anger. "Yeah, sucking up to more senators, agency heads and directors."

"She's got quite the mess to deal with cleaning up after you."

Ross sighed. "Connie's a piece of work. I don't know how she did it but she climbed the ladder and snuck up on everyone. Her ambition surpasses her looks. Compared to her, I'm an up front kind of guy. I wouldn't turn my back on Connie if I were you, Frisco."

"I always felt twitchy around you, Ross. Guess I always knew you were crooked," said Frisco. "Faison tapped into something that was ALWAYS there."

"NO! NO! I love my country, my job, my family. I … I don't care what anyone says. It wasn't me!" exclaimed Ross. "I should have listened when Robert first came to me about Faison. Maybe, if I had, things would have turned out differently."

"But you didn't listen. In fact, your refusal to help us, indirectly kept Faison alive," said Frisco. "We did as much as we could legally but the WSB could have put him away for good."

"I said I regretted not listening. I can't change the past," said Ross. "I did order a data investigation on Faison but everything checked out that he was dead. There wasn't anything else to do."

Frisco's tone was curt. "Checked out? Or did that little voice in your head just tell you to ignore the data?"

Ross grew agitated. His leg chains clanged against the floor. "I SWEAR I wasn't influenced. Not then. I would have known if I was."

"You didn't know anything until we detained you and neutralized the programming a little bit. Deny all you want." Frisco stood up and circled the table and Ross. "Here I thought no one else could hate Faison more than I or the, um, other Musketeers, do."

"If he were in front of me right now, I'd … I'd kill him with my bare hands!" screamed Ross.

"A patsy can't kill his boss. That's not how it works. Faison would have conditioned you to not be able to kill him."

"Try me!" growled Ross.

"I got questions for you." Frisco yanked Ross' head back. He stared at him. "Use that hate, Ross. Concentrate on it no matter how much it hurts. Keep on the hate."

A sign of recognition flashed across Ross' eyes. He knew what Frisco was trying to do. Strong emotion and will power could break through mental conditioning for short periods of time. The key was being focused on one thing that unfailingly roused unambiguous and strong emotion. Ross nodded for Frisco to continue even as he trained his eyes on the far wall and focused on thinking hateful thoughts about Faison. The familiar ache began to pulse behind his eyes - a conditioned response to his attempts to talk about Faison. He tried his best to ignore it.

Frisco leaned in and whispered for Ross' ears alone. "Listen. We hate him as much as you do. Believe that. We'll get him for you. I don't know if we can ever clear your name but … but I promise you we won't stop trying to get him."

Ross swallowed then took a deep breath. "Just … j-just tell my wife … the truth. Y-y-your word?"

"Yeah, my word," whispered Frisco. "Ready?"

"'Kay, let's go," said Ross.

Frisco eyed the older man. He'd been in interrogation mode for nearly a day. He was emotionally raw and desperate. Frisco didn't like seeing anyone like this. He told himself that the best way was to get it over with as fast as possible. Mentally, he began to distance himself. He had to push Ross hard. He would have to be cruel to be kind.

Doctor Lionel Beam's serum had loosened Ross' tongue previously but Beam had not asked beyond how Faison contacted him and when and what information had been passed on. Frisco wanted confirmation on a few extra things. He had to ease Ross into his responses in order to keep the headaches from escalating to the point that Ross blacked out. That had happened frequently during Beam's team questioning.

"You manipulated WSB tests and results during Anna's disappearance to make it appear that Anna was cooperating with Faison, yes or no?" asked Frisco.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Keep R-R-Scorpio busy. Confuse and delay him."

"Yes or no, did you know that Anna was pregnant in Venezuela?"

"Yes."

"You kept the information to yourself, yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Did you personally believe Robert or Anna were traitors or informers?"

Ross shook his head emphatically. "No. Never."

"But you seeded little lies about them didn't you? Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"You covered your tracks how?"

"Misdirection. Took files out of the archives. Had others issue orders. It was easy."

Frisco asked a question that reflected a longheld suspicion. "Did Faison order you to pull strings and issue the black box order on Anna?"

Ross gritted his teeth. His fingers grabbed at the edges of his seat. With effort he said, "Y-y-yes."

"Why?"

"It w-w-was to get Scorpio to give up looking and s-s-stay with their daughter. And t-t-to …"

"And what?" demanded Frisco.

"He said that Anna h-h-had to lose hope of r-r-rescue. Backfired."

"Big time." Frisco studied Ross' now flushed face. His blood pressure had to be climbing and fast. "Robert's assignment to Black Ops, you pulled strings right, yes or no?"

"Yes," said Ross.

"Was it Faison's idea?"

Ross bit down on his lips until he tasted blood. "Yeah. P-p-punishment to death sentence." He blinked rapidly and shook his head. It felt like nails were being pounded in his head. "He couldn't kill him himself 'cause Anna … would hate him." He snorted. "Robert's too hard to kill though."

"Did Faison order you to have me in charge in Venezuela to bring them in, yes or no?"

"Yes. G-g-gonna black out soon." He placed his elbows on his knees. "Can't focus."

Frisco gathered Ross' hair into his fist and pulled every strand taut. He held on tightening the grip more and more as he talked. "Focus on the hate! He's used you, Ross! You're his pawn!" He pulled Ross into a sitting position. "Why pick me to find them?"

"S-s-scapegoat," said Ross. "I would have … f-f-fingered you if Robert h-h-had to be killed in our custody. Then, I killed you in s-s-self-defense but not before you kill Anna. That was to be my … reason for killing you. B-b-but I … I would have gotten Anna out first … give to Faison." Tears began to stream down his face as the level of pain became unbearable. "Not me. Not ME!"

Frisco tamped down his growing revulsion at everything happening in the room. "But you didn't kill Robert, why not?"

Ross groaned. "Decisions. Higher ups made deal with Scorpio. No control over it."

"What about Anna?"

Ross' shoulder slumped. Frisco yanked him back. "S-s-suppose to arrange a snatch on way to sanitarium. Make it look like an escape … but you … stayed with her with … your people. Hands tied."

"Did you fake the picture of the explosion?"

"No," said Ross. "Higher ups. Had to convince Donely and the brother they were really dead. F-f-fooled everybody."

"Did you try to get Anna again in the sanitarium?"

"Ordered to k-k-keep her safe, guard her family," said Ross. "Didn't hear from Faison for a long time un-until - oh, god!" Ross clutched at his chest. "I remember her. Important. Danger to us."

Frisco knelt in front of the stricken man. In a necessary parody of a hug, Frisco put his arms under Ross' armpits to keep him upright and on the chair. He could feel Ross' shallow breaths against his ear.

Ross' voice was barely audible. In between gasps, he said, "Someone else … got to me. Airport. Vacation. Grabbed me. Like Faison … but not him … a woman. Accent. English." Ross' entire body shuddered. "Wanted to know if … if Guardian existed. H-had to con-con-confirm."

Frisco called out to the listening microphones. "Get medics down here!" He looked at Ross whose face was now the color of oatmeal. "Take it easy."

Ross clutched at Frisco's shirt. "I … dead dropped a packet … on Guardian. Highway 90 'fore last Utica exit s-s-sign. Tree line, north side."

"Was there a pick up?"

"No. Faison t-t-took control again be-be-before I could report the drop to … to her." Ross looked earnestly at Frisco. "She wants it. Badly. I - I didn't want to give it to her but … " Ross moaned and slumped over.

Frisco whispered urgently, "I gave you my word. We'll get him. Whatever it takes."

The door swung open and medical staff swarmed in. Frisco surrendered his spot. He watched with a sinking heart as Ross went into full cardiac arrest.

One Temple Court - Donely Penthouse

Sean sauntered into the living room where Tiffany and Belle were watching the late night news on the television. Susan Quincy was just concluding a short segment interviewing Felicia and Maxie about the Valentines Day fashion show benefit for the Frisco Jones Children's Theater. He sat next to Tiffany while toweling his hair dry.

Tiffany clapped her hands. "I have to say that Maxie is a natural. Put a camera in front of her and she just lights up."

"She and Felicia looked good together," said Sean.

"Yeah, they did. You got the mom and daughter vibe between them," said Tiffany. "I hope this means good things for when Frisco comes home."

Sean cleared his throat. "Is … um, honey, has there been news about when he's coming back?"

"It was supposed to have been this week but there was some kind of delay. Felicia is not pleased I can tell you."

"I bet she's not."

"I think, romantic that he is, that Frisco will be back by Valentines Day," said Tiffany. "Speaking of the holiday, Belle, sugar, we HAVE to go shopping for your dress."

Belle looked blankly at her mother. "Dress?"

"Dance. Andrew. Valentines. School. Any of that ring a bell? It's only two weeks away."

"Oh, that," said Belle without much enthusiasm. "I may not be going and-"

"What?! Of course you are," said Tiffany.

"I don't know when Andrew will be back, Mama, and it would-"

"Oh, darlin', one thing about Scorpio men is that they keep their promises or die trying. It would take something big for Andrew not to show up," said Tiffany. "Mind you, it could be an hour to midnight on Valentines Day but he'll be there."

"If he comes late, why bother with a dress?"

Tiffany looked at Sean. "Were YOU like this in school?"

"Like what?"

"Anti-social."

"I am not anti-social," protested Belle.

"I had a few friends, honey," said Sean half-heartedly. "Not going to a dance doesn't make our daughter anti-social."

"Thank you, Daddy," said Belle.

"You two are always ganging up on me," said Tiffany.

"If Belle isn't ready, we shouldn't push her. That's all I'm saying," said Sean. "Besides, with things the way they are, maybe, she shouldn't count on Andrew being available."

"Daddy, I don't-" began Belle.

Sean put up a placating hand towards Belle. "I say keep your options open. Be flexible. See who else is out there."

Tiffany looked at Sean in disbelief. "You're telling Belle to … to date? You?"

"No, no, not me. That word never passed my lips," said Sean. "My comments are strictly about the dance and Andrew as escort material. I hold by my previous stand that Belle shouldn't start dating until she's, um, at least twenty and I'm too senile to care."

Tiffany and Belle burst out in laughter. The phone rang and Belle answered it. She handed the phone to her father.

"Daddy, it's Uncle Robert. He wants to talk to you," said Belle.

"At this hour?" asked Sean taking the phone from her. "Robert, what's going on?"

"You are a hard man to track down," came Robert's voice. "I tried your office a few times all day."

"I've been busy. I'm a little short-handed at the PR firm you know," replied Sean.

"About you and Anna and what happened there, she feels really-"

"Robert, I've had a really long day. I just got home an hour ago. I'm beat. Save the heavy stuff for tomorrow, huh?" asked Sean injecting a little bit of annoyance in his tone.

"Okay, fine with me," said Robert. "I called because … because I'm planning something for the family. That includes you, Tif, Belle, Felicia, Frisco and Maxie."

Sean was touched and could not say anything.

"I know I can't ask you to fly down here on short notice but you gave her away the second time and, ah, I think to have you here in some-"

"You're getting married again?!" asked Sean. "I'm putting you on speakerphone before Tiffany kills me."

"That sounds wonderful!" gushed Tiffany. "When? Where? Does Anna have a dress?"

"Well, Anna doesn't know yet. It's a surprise."

"What?!" exclaimed Tiffany and Belle in unison.

"Robert, surprising Anna is … is not a good idea. Ever," said Sean.

"Life is too short to wait for the perfect time, the perfect dress, the perfect place or to delay something important," explained Robert. "You understand where I'm coming from don't you, Sean?"

"Yeah, I do, old buddy, I do understand," replied Sean. "Whatever you want from us, you got it."

"Here's what I want you to do."

The Donelys listened in rapt attention as Robert detailed the task. Belle was assigned scribe and jotted down notes on a notepad. Tiffany punched rapidly at her phone clearing her schedule for the next day. She had some serious shopping to do.

(86-b2c26)