"Come in!" said Sierra. Jason pushed the door; it swung open to reveal Sierra sitting cross-legged on the bed, eating Chinese takeout in front of her laptop.

Connie followed Jason inside. The blinds were drawn, the golden sunlight suffusing the room.

"I got some for you, if you want it," said Sierra, gesturing to the table by the microwave. Two takeout boxes sat there, unopened, chopsticks and plastic forks beside them. The food smelled good; Connie was hungry. She grabbed one of the boxes and followed Jason toward Sierra.

"Have a seat." She gestured to two chairs by the table in front of the window. Connie sat down beside Jason and dug into her box with a fork; she wasn't feeling adventurous enough to try the chopsticks. She swirled the noodles around with a fork and took a bite.

"Mm—good!"

"I always order from Chinese Star when I'm in DC." She scooted forward and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "So, you guys are in?"

Jason nodded, opening his box. "We'll go to Muldavia, look up intel. Then you can take over when you're done in Vietnam."

"Sounds like a plan. Before we go any further, our client would like to talk to you." She stepped off the bed and lifted the laptop, carrying it over to the table. She leaned over, maneuvering the mouse, and brought up a Skype screen.

"Right now?" said Jason.

"It's the best time for him."

Connie had barely managed to slurp up a dangling noodle when a face popped up on the screen.

The man was about forty-five; his dark eyes looked haunted. He wore an immaculate suit, but his perfectly trimmed brown hair was slightly messy, as if he hadn't combed it yet.

"Good evening," he said in a deep, cultured voice.

"Hi," said Sierra. "Mr. Brand, these are the associates I told you about, Jason and Connie Whittaker."

"It's good to meet you," said Jason. "I'm sorry about your son."

"You will help me find him?"

Jason nodded. Connie felt a little awkward, not sure what to do. Sierra had just sprung this meeting on them. Connie hoped Mr. Brand didn't think she was some kind of secret agent. Because that would never happen in a million years. She'd just have to let Jason handle this and fade into the background as much as she could. She certainly wasn't an equal partner in this, really just tagging along as Jason worked his magic.

"We were hoping you could tell them more about what happened to Ben," said Sierra.

"O-of course." He looked down, as if gathering his thoughts. He was sitting at a desk in a room that looked rich and ornate, gold wallpaper in the background, shiny dark wooden furniture—perhaps mahogany (though Connie wasn't totally sure what mahogany looked like...). He looked back up at them, his eyes brimming with sorrow and pain.

"It started with—well, it started long before he was kidnapped. I should've paid attention to what was going on but I was so—busy." He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Ben's always been such a good boy. I rarely had to discipline him. He always did what he was told—ever since he was little, he was responsible. He had to be, since his mom left us when he was two."

"Oh!" said Connie involuntarily. "I'm sorry."

"I should've seen that coming, too. It was a mixed marriage, and Dezi was a free spirit—that's why I loved her. Marrying her was the only impulsive decision I ever made. But we were too different. She couldn't be 'tied down', as she said. Her love faded like it had never been and I was left with two toddlers to raise, in addition to my business. I…it's been hard, but I thought I was managing it. Now—it looks like I couldn't help but neglect one aspect of my life—and it ended up being the most important part." He took a deep, shaky breath.

"You said it was a mixed marriage," said Jason. "What did you mean by that?"

"Oh. I'm not sure how much Sierra told you."

"Not an awful lot."

Mr. Brand gave a ghost of a smile before it faded. "I'm Jewish. Dezi was…not. I met her on a business trip to L.A. and her religion was a mixture of Buddhism and other new age beliefs—but she took that about as seriously as she did anything. I thought—naively—that I could get her to come around to my point of view. But she never listened to me when I talked about religion. Just a few months after I married her, I felt her gradually floating away….as if I and the children mattered less and less and she felt the pull of the world. 'There's a whole world out there' was one of the last things she said to me. 'You can't expect me to stay in one place for long.' And she left. Becca was too young to remember, but Ben was devastated. He cried for his mommy for days. He even tried to find her once…he got halfway to the nearest subway station before we found him." A pained expression crossed his face at the memory. "After he was old enough for me to tell him why his mother left, he was angry at her and started to pretend she didn't exist. But lately, he started looking for her again."

"Is that—what happened?" Connie ventured to ask.

He looked at her sharply and she felt like sinking down into her chair. She couldn't help but say something—it wasn't in her nature to fade into the background. "It's a bit more complicated than that." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further. He looked distracted, as if he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts together. "Though it really is my fault."

Sierra made a small, frustrated noise, shaking her head.

"How could it be your fault?" said Jason.

"I didn't have my priorities straight. I thought I was paying enough attention to my children, but….My business was successful. I couldn't afford to not stay on top of things. I had to go to meetings, go on business trips….keep everything running smoothly. I couldn't let Dad down." He gave a wry, humorless smile. "And of course I had to make sure Ben carried on the business—like he didn't have enough to deal with! I wanted him to follow in my footsteps and he agreed, like the obedient boy he is. I thought he'd keep his other interests as hobbies. I didn't see how much they meant to him till it was too late.

"We had the best year ever for the business, and I thought I could make up the time with the kids after the busy summer season." Bitterness filled his voice.

"I pieced all this together later. Ben often had a bad time in school. I enrolled him in a different school because of the bullying. He's sensitive and was an easy target for them. That he was Jewish didn't help. It seemed to get better in the new school, but now I realize he just didn't want to bother me with it. He endured it until he couldn't take it anymore….He's always been self-sufficient. I should've noticed the changes, but…he stopped getting straight As. I thought he was just adjusting to high school. He stopped doing a lot of the activities that interested him. I thought he was just growing up. He started working out, doing a lot of physical activity, though he never stopped doing what he loved most—writing.

"I thought this was all normal. He still seemed his old self, if a bit more serious. But I later learned this was probably triggered by an event where—" He shook his head, looking a bit sick—"some boys found a note he'd written for a girl he liked. They gave it to her and she stomped on it and the girl's boyfriend and his friends all ganged up on him. He…was beaten so badly they cracked a rib. And he told me that he just fell! I took his word for it even though he had a black eye…." He shook his head as if in disbelief and exasperation at himself.

"Meanwhile, Becca was getting in trouble in school. Acting out. She's a lot like her mother….and I can never be mad at her for too long. I was perhaps a bit too lenient with her…. Ben's grades were going down. He was even getting C's, which never happened. Even I couldn't help but notice that. I talked to him about it, but his grades didn't improve. And then he got into a fight. This time, he won. All his working out had paid off. But the principal didn't see it that way. Neither did I.

"The troublemakers ganged up on him again—and he put them in their place. I told him our annual summer trip was off. I went on a business trip instead. By this time, school was out and I left Ben at home with Becca, telling him to look after her. 'Be responsible for once,' I told him, which wasn't really fair. I told him—" He looked away, a tear flickering in his eye—"I told him that if he didn't get his act together, I could never entrust the business to him.

"'I don't want it anyway!' he said—the first I'd heard of it.

"'Your grandfather would be ashamed of you!' I told him. You have to understand, that Dad's very important to this family. He started the business after surviving the Holocaust as a boy—all the rest of our family was killed. He died a few years ago—he was a great man, and a good one. To disappoint him, well—Ben would never want to do that. He just looked at me and left. Those are the last words I spoke to him." The tears hovering in his eyes spilled onto his cheeks. He looked away, shame and sorrow in his face. "Excuse me," he said, and his face left the screen.

Connie looked at Sierra, who seemed lost in thought, then at Jason, who shrugged. She felt awkward, but that was nothing compared to what that poor man must have been feeling.

He returned, his face dry, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. I've come to the end of myself. There's nothing I can do anymore—just entrust this to you. Try to keep hoping even though…." He swallowed, shook his head, as if trying to fend off more tears. He folded his hands in a businesslike manner. "Now, where were we?"

"The day you left," said Sierra.

"Ah. Well…I left to Berlin and tried not to feel guilty for what I'd said. I was still angry with him. But once I got to work, it was easy enough to forget….

"At home, Ben watched Becca—who's 13, a year younger than he is. One day she went to a sleepover with some friends and Ben—did something uncharacteristic. He went to a party. Not just any party.

"I suppose I should explain that the last fight at the end of the school year had a different effect at school than it did with me. Ben earned respect that day and the kids didn't bother him anymore. What's more, he earned a place with the 'cool' kids. They weren't the bullies—they were above all that. The group that contacted him, anyway.

"They asked him to a party and he debated whether to say yes. I learned all this from his journal later. He was done trying to be what I wanted him to be. It felt good being respected by other kids for once. Maybe he could become someone better…someone he could be proud of.

"So he left. According to the kids there, he seemed to be enjoying himself at first. But then the party started to get wild. They offered him alcohol. He didn't take it—he just wanted to go home."

"Good for him," said Connie.

Mr. Brand gave her a fleeting smile. "I was proud of him for that. But—" he took a deep, shaky breath—"when he left the party, he never came home." He swallowed, sat back. "The police looked for him, but they lost the trail after a month. That was when I contacted Sierra. A business associate had used her services before, and she'd come through with amazing results despite the apparently hopeless situation. Sierra's found much more than the cops ever did, but she says that she can only be in one place at a time. So she recommends you two."

Connie shifted uncomfortably. She didn't belong here with these professional agents.

"I'm glad we come so highly recommended," said Jason.

"I trust Sierra's judgment. You are former NSA agents, correct?"

"I am."

"I'm just his wife."

"Do you have any experience in this area?"

Connie shook her head. "I'm sorry. I doubt I can do much to help you."

"That's all right. I thought I was getting two agents, that's all." He gave Sierra a pointed look.

"Well, they come as a pair or not at all. Isn't that right, Jason?" Sierra looked at him, a wry smile on her face.

"That's right. I'm not going anywhere without Connie."

"Might that not get a little…inconvenient?" he said, glancing at Sierra.

"Her presence helps me," said Jason. "Without her, I couldn't do my work."

"Can she handle herself if it gets dangerous?" He looked at Connie, who wanted to shrink again.

"If it gets dangerous, we'll get out of there."

"I see. What if my son is in danger? How far are you willing to go to help him?"

"I'll go in alone and get him out."

Mr. Brand nodded, though he didn't look totally convinced. It did sound a little too simple. And when had they agreed to go into danger? But Connie couldn't see how they could tell this man they would only try to help his son if he wasn't in danger. Now that she knew what had happened, she couldn't back out now.

"Very well. I'll pay you what I'm paying Sierra."

"You don't have to pay me," said Jason.

"Nonsense. I'd give everything I have to get my son back. A hundred thousand—that's nothing."

Connie's stomach flipped. A hundred thousand? Dollars? Before she could recover, Jason said, "All right. But we're not doing this for the money."

"Neither am I," said Sierra, passion and determination in her voice.

"It's been so long…he's been gone two months. Anything you can do—" His voice broke as he pleaded.

Connie wished she was next to him so she could give him a hug. "I may not be an agent," she said, "but I'll do everything in my power to help get him back." Everything? A small voice asked. Really? But how could she possibly promise any less after meeting this man, getting to know him and his son?

"Thank you."

"I'll at least do some behind-the-scenes stuff, learn what I can. I'll let Jason do the rest." Which is what? Fear pricked her. She shoved the fear away. But she couldn't help but wonder if this would end up like so many other missions before. She couldn't believe anymore that just because bad things had happened in the past, they were owed a "break". She'd thought that once….but the world didn't really work that way.

That didn't mean something would happen either…and perhaps this mission would be routine for once and they'd get Ben back without too much trouble. She hoped.

"Thank you for agreeing to help find Ben," said Mr. Brand. "I'd almost given up hope when Sierra came along. At first it looked like he ran away. But I couldn't believe it—he's not that irresponsible. Then when we found clues he might've been kidnapped, I thought I'd hear some demands soon. But after almost two months without any demands from kidnappers, I couldn't accept that explanation either. Sierra found out that several other kids had disappeared from the same place the party was at. Some kind of group where kids who want to run away are given false identities."

Sierra leaned forward, clasping her hands over her knee. "That's what it looked like, anyway. Once I did some digging, there were discrepancies. The kids seemed to completely disappear, for one thing. I didn't think a small, altruistic organization would have that many resources. And when I contacted the boy at school responsible for asking potential runaways to these parties, he told me about the man who was responsible for transportation of the kids. This man seemed like a professional to me. I tracked him down. He spilled his secrets—such as they were.

"I tracked the leads he gave me, which led to a cargo ship to Southeast Asia and a plane to Eastern Europe. I knew I couldn't track both leads at once, so I contacted you, Jason. The leads are already going cold. We'll have to act quickly in order to follow them before they disappear completely. I'm planning on leaving first thing tomorrow morning. If possible, you should do the same." She looked at Jason.

"I wasn't expecting to leave so soon."

"You don't have to, but the sooner you leave, the better. You know what's at stake."

Jason nodded. "I'll leave as soon as I can. We'll have to find some airline tickets, for one thing."

"I'll help you with that," said Mr. Brand. "If you need anything, just ask and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"I feel so helpless here. I'd go with you myself if I thought I could do the job. But I'm no agent." He smiled ruefully. "Just—bring him back, if you can."

"I'll try. If he's in Muldavia, I'll do everything I can to find him."

"That's all I can ask." He leaned to the left, out of the screen, and reached for something. A small framed picture. He turned it around so it faced the screen. "This is the picture of Ben I keep on my desk."

The boy in the picture had a ball in his hand and was laughing. He had curly brown hair and big brown eyes that seemed to look straight into Connie's. A girl danced in the background—Connie figured it was his sister, Becca. She had the same curly brown hair but it was longer, obscuring her face as she twirled. Ben looked so happy in the picture it broke her heart. Now he was in some dark, horrible place she didn't want to think about. How could anyone do something like that to an innocent kid?

"How old is he?" she asked softly.

"Fourt—Fifteen." Mr. Brand withdrew the picture. "He had his birthday in captivity."

"Ohh."

Mr. Brand gave a small smile. "If-when he gets back, we'll give him a party that's better than a hundred birthdays."

He gave them his contact information and then he said goodbye.

"Well," said Sierra. "What do you think?"

"I think you did this on purpose. You wanted us to talk to him so we couldn't back out."

Sierra tipped her head. "You think I manipulated you into this?"

"Yes."

"You didn't have to do anything you didn't want to."

"I think you took advantage of the fact that we're nice people. You knew we couldn't let something like this happen."

"I knew you were a man of integrity. You're a good agent. And yes, you're compassionate. Good qualities for the mission. Forgive me if I thought you were the best person for the job."

A smile spread across Jason's face. "You did a good job of recruiting me. Very clever."

"It's true that this is important to me, for reasons I've told you before. And it's true that I am on a deadline, and your appearance in DC was extremely fortunate. I didn't even have to go tracking you down! It's like you just came to me." She smiled. "But…even if we don't share methods, and we sometimes disagree as to goals as well, I believe we both share a commitment to justice. Mainly, I just thought that this would be something up your alley. I'm sorry if it seemed a bit…underhanded. It's just how I do things."

"That's okay. As you can see, we've agreed to do this." He looked at Connie with a bit of a question in his eyes; she nodded. "You were right."

"Good. We're on the same page then."

"You're going to Cambodia tomorrow?"

Sierra nodded. "I'll look up those contacts for you."

"I'd appreciate that. I'd like to look up some contacts here, but I can do that remotely too. I suppose there's not much keeping me here, except that I'll need to find a flight to Muldavia." He looked at Connie. "Unless you have any objections."

She shook her head. "I don't want to hold you back. I want to help. As much as I can, anyway."

"See if you can get tickets tomorrow, if possible. Some of the Muldavians will be going back—perhaps you can catch a flight with them." Sierra picked up her computer, set it on her lap. "I'll send you all the intel I have about Yavesh. And one of your first steps should be to contact Kris Markov. He knows more about the organization than anybody—which isn't saying a lot." She typed on her computer for a few minutes; Connie finished her cold noodles.

"Well," said Jason, "I suppose we'd better get going." He stood.

"All the better, since I have to get up at three a.m." She gave them a preoccupied wave without looking up and they walked out the door.

"Well," said Jason as they walked down the sidewalk. "It looks like we're headed to Muldavia."

"Yeah. It's just—all this is just such a whirlwind I'm not sure what to think. First the party, and then finding out about Jerry's wife, and now this—it's one thing after another!"

He slid his arm around her shoulder. "Don't forget about…us."

"Yeah. That too." Heat rose to her cheeks. Longing for him hit her—she wanted him even closer than he was now. She wanted to forget everything else except him. She wrapped her arm around his back and hugged him closer.

They arrived at the car and got in. As soon as he withdrew, she felt cold without the warmth of his skin against hers. She didn't want to be separate from him.

He started the car, the muscles in his arm flexing. Just this part of him was marvelous; she could gaze at him all day. Just looking at him should be enough, but the more she had of him, the more of him she wanted. How could she have ever wanted to be separate from someone so magnificent?

She was glad they were going to Muldavia together. It could be like another vacation. A second honeymoon…although they'd have to do some investigation. But that could be fun too. As long as she was with him….This could be a honeymoon, unlike Paraguay, where something didn't go wrong. Perhaps all would go smoothly and they would find Ben and they could relax afterwards….

Even as she thought this, she realized she was thinking optimistically. But thinking that nothing whatsoever would go wrong wasn't realistic. It was as if she was trying to compensate for all the horrible things, a block against it, as if her mind couldn't cope with thinking something bad could happen this time too.

It might not all go perfectly, but it didn't have to end in disaster either. There might be some danger, some roadblocks, but statistically speaking (am I starting to think like Eugene? she thought), it was unlikely that he'd get kidnapped or tortured or enslaved. It had happened too many times already.

Then again, Jason was an agent and he did seek out the things that others ran from…..Though now he seemed more cautious, including in that meeting. He'd said as much.

"Jason," she said.

"Yeah?" He turned the steering wheel, giving her another view of his wonderful arm, and for a moment she forgot what she was asking.

"Um…I want to find Ben. But I don't want to risk losing you."

"I don't want to be lost, either. There's only so far I'll go. If I see a chance to rescue him, I will….but if Sierra doesn't find him in Cambodia, I'll let her take over the reins here. We'll give her the leads we found and we'll go off and have some fun. Like a second honeymoon."

She smiled at how close their thoughts were. They kind of needed something like that after all that had happened. "I'll make up for everything you did for me."

"It's me who has to make it up to you. For everything you gave me." He smiled and a thrill ran through her.

Jason's phone pinged just as they pulled up to the hotel. Jason picked it up and read it. "It's from Dad. It says…he's sending me a picture of Jerry's letter. That way I can read it for myself." Another ping. "Here it is. Want me to read it to you?"

Connie nodded eagerly, excitement running through her at what it might say.

"Let's get out of this heat first." They climbed out of the car and went up to their pleasantly cool hotel room. Then they sat down on the bed and Jason started to read.