"What does the witness know?" asked Connie.

"Sierra didn't tell me yet."

Markov looked at him disapprovingly as he led Tasha and Gray further down the hallway.

"Have you talked to the witness?" he asked Sierra, leaning against the wall.

"Of course. I wouldn't have called if I didn't have any information of value. But I'd better tell you up front—it's not good news."

Jason's heart fell. "Is—she still alive?"

"I'm sorry, Jason." Sympathy filled her voice. "From what I can piece together, she tried to get out before Saigon fell. But the government captured her as a spy and she was executed."

Horror filled him. Jerry's wife—gone….killed amid terror and torture… He forced out the words, his voice shaken. "It's….the worst thing that could've happened. But thank you for finding this out for me."

"No problem."

"How is your main investigation going?"

"I've hit a dead end for the moment, except there might be some clues on the dark web….But Jason—that's not the end of the story."

"What do you mean?"

"For one thing, Ai's sister is still alive. That's who the witness is. You might want to meet her family, learn more about her."

Jason's heart ached. "Maybe I would," he managed.

"And—there is some possible good news. Ai had a son."

His heart leaped. He had barely considered the possibility, considering how little time they were married. "Really?"

"Ai's sister, Yen, raised him after she died. She tried to give him all the attention she could, but she had five children of her own, and he ran away when he was eleven. She hasn't heard from him since."

"So that's another dead end then."

"Not necessarily. She heard rumors he had joined the communist party, and it turned out to be true. He was a low-level official in government for years until there was an internal feud and he was forced out. He had to flee to another country—it looks like he went to the Philippines. That's where I'm going to check next."

"So he could be in the Philippines."

"This happened only a few years ago, so unless the communists got to him in another country, or he contracted an illness or something, it's likely he's still alive. Oh—and get this. He had a wife—she left him—and a daughter, who it appears he took with him. The wife's name is—well, never mind her. Ai's son is Lam Minh Tam and his daughter is Lam Hue Mai. It took some finding because Tam changed his name—he had been named after his father, Jerry, with Tam as his middle name."

"I have a nephew..." He could hardly comprehend it.

"I'll do all I can to find him and his daughter."

"Thank you, Sierra."

"Don't mention it. I'll call you when I have more info."

As they followed Markov down the hall, he told Connie what Sierra had told him. Tears came to her eyes when he told her that Ai had been killed. Anger flashed across her face when he told her that Tam had joined the communist party. It hit him, then, the implications of the information he hadn't totally processed yet. Ai's son had betrayed everything she and Jerry had died for. How could he do such a thing? Especially when it seemed he had abandoned Ai's sister, who had raised him. There was probably much more to the story. But he couldn't help but share Connie's anger at his nephew, and wonder if, when Sierra found him, he would ever want to connect with the family he had never known, the family of a father he'd rejected.

Markov led them to the elevator at the end of the hall and they ascended to the second floor, where he opened a door to his office. They all filed into a spacious room with a large antique desk.

"Jason, I'll give you the resources you need to start and then you can go off on your own. Some angles will be more difficult with non-professionals involved." He gave Jason a meaningful look, and then turned to his computer. "There are not many options, as we barely know anything about Yavesh to begin with. You could examine financial records of possible suspects. You could collaborate with the police on human trafficking investigations. You could work with at-risk kids to see if they've seen anything suspicious, families of children who have been taken, and victims of human trafficking who have been rescued to see if they can give us any leads."

"We'll work on all of those angles, if we can."

"I'll send you our unclassified files. The case with our agent who was killed is still open, and we'll take any leads we can get, so if you want to look into that as well…."

"Sure."

"Just so you know, we have been threatened not to investigate by anonymous messages that appeared on our supposedly unhackable computers. With Yavesh, there is no such thing as being out of the danger zone. If you're not willing to take a certain amount of risk, it's better if you just pack up and leave right now."

Jason looked at Connie. Fear sprang up in her eyes.

"Everything has some amount of risk to it," said Jason. "Just because I'm not willing to go past a certain point doesn't mean I'm not willing to risk anything at all. I may be afraid, but not so much that I would shield myself from danger. Not anymore. But I cannot leave Connie alone."

Markov looked at him, his eyes narrowed, for a moment. Then he nodded. "I understand. You have a family. That is why it's easier in this business to be unattached. The agent that we lost left behind a widow and a son. It's had a deep effect on our organization as well. Our agents are family. It's hard to approach this professionally, but we'll be less likely to succeed if we give in to emotionalism. Although it can be a strong motivation if channeled correctly…." He sighed. "I might as well show you. You need to know the full extent of what you're up against, so you don't make the same mistakes." He motioned them forward, and Jason, Connie, Tasha, Gray, and James gathered around the computer.

When Markov clicked on a file, a picture appeared of an official-looking photo, a man in a suit against a generic blue backdrop. The man had wavy brown hair and green eyes with a hint of mischief and a wry, brilliant smile. He looked like he could take on the world, and have a good time doing it.

Markov clicked to another picture. Shock shot through Jason. It was a picture of something vaguely recognizable as a face—eyes swollen shut, massive blue bruises spreading over the cheek and jaw, a large cut across one cheek, and the angry welts of several burns on the skin.

"Is it—?" Jason asked.

"Yes, it's the same man. Agent Beck." Markov's eyes were haunted. He clicked to the next picture.

A naked body lay in an ally, crumpled next to some refuse. Jason wanted to turn away, but Markov would probably see that as a weakness. The body was covered in cuts and bruises, and several of the fingers were missing. One arm was bent completely backwards. Burns crisscrossed his skin. Jason had never seen such extensive torture.

"I get the picture, Markov."

The deputy director nodded grimly and exited the file.

Connie had turned to the window, her face pale. James stood, transfixed, as if in shock. Gray was sitting on a chair in the corner, his head in his hands, Tasha kneeling next to him.

Jason crept over to them, Connie beside him. "Is he all right?" Jason asked softly.

"I—don't know," said Tasha. She stroked his hair back. His breathing began to slow a little. "The pictures hit too close to home, I think."

Markov strode over to them. "What's wrong with him?"

"It was a little much for him to take," Tasha answered.

"If he can't take a few pictures—how can he possibly go on a mission? I mean, they are hard to look at, but they should not be enough to incapacitate you. Yavesh would see through him right away, and you would end up just like Agent Beck. Perhaps I should not give you any of my information—I don't want to be responsible for your deaths."

"He's just…recovering. He can do this."

"What's he recovering from?"

"Torture."

"Is that why he has these injuries?" Markov gestured to the bandage on Gray's arm, and he flinched.

Tasha nodded.

"Why is he being sent out into the field so soon? He's obviously not fit for it."

"It was the Agency's orders."

"And here I thought the NSA was a professional organization."

Gray sat up slowly, his jaw set, his eyes afire. "I need to do this."

"You can work on the sidelines. There is no shame in that, especially with the condition you're in."

Gray stood, facing Markov, trembling, fists clenched. "Give me this chance. I will be the agent you need me to be."

Markov tipped his head. "I admire your determination. But sometimes, not even an iron will can force your body and mind into the right shape. You have been through a harrowing ordeal. Give yourself a chance to recover. Then you can prove yourself."

Desperation showed in Gray's eyes. Jason knew the motivation behind it—which he could not tell to Markov. If Gray did not perform the missions the Agency gave him, they'd give him back to Vivian to wreak her perpetual revenge.

"This is part of my recovery. I need to be who I was."

Markov nodded. "I can understand that. How about this. I give you a more straightforward, less dangerous mission, and if you can perform that, I'll let you go undercover."

Gray considered for a moment. Then he gave a quick nod.

"Tasha?"

"I think it's a good idea to not jump right into the deep end. I am responsible for him, after all."

"I'll see what I can find for you." He looked at Jason. "I've sent you the files you need, so you can begin your investigation."

"Thank you," said Jason. "We'll get out of your hair."

Markov gave him an absent nod and turned back to his computer.

"Let's go, James."

James, looking a bit dazed, rushed over from the wall to the door.

"See you at the palace later," said Tasha. "We'll probably stay there until we go undercover."

Jason looked at Gray. "You can do this."

Gray nodded, a determined look in his eyes, though still desperate and wounded. Jason hoped he'd be able to pull himself together enough to do this mission. Because it would be fatal if he couldn't—either way. He would not be able to survive going back to the secret detention center to face more abuse. Not after all he'd experienced, and how much effort it was taking to recover.

They headed back to the palace, and Jason spent most of the afternoon at his computer going over the material Markov had sent. James was with him most of the time, sitting beside him, sometimes leaning over his shoulder to look excitedly at the information. Not only for Luna's sake, although that was a driving factor, but because he seemed to enjoy it.

Connie, on the other hand, stayed with them for a little while then she said, "I'm not going to do you any good—I don't have a clue what I'm doing," and left to explore the palace. Jason was fine with that; he didn't want her to do anything she was uncomfortable with. She wasn't the kind of person who would ever want to be a secret agent. He wanted to make her happy too, though, and not drag her all over the place for his own sake. She did want to find Ben and Luna—but after this mission, he'd ask her what she wanted to do.

He found Connie talking with Darya in a large living room, the golden walls lined with paintings. Darya wore an elegant white dress, while Connie wore a green shirt and jeans. Connie looked just as ravishing as the queen.

"Connie has been illuminating me about your life in Odyssey," said Darya, rising from her chair. "It sounds like an idyllic town."

"It has its moments," said Jason. "You have quite the idyllic country yourself."

She inclined her head. "It is not without its problems, as you are discovering. But there is great beauty here, and the people are good and honest. It is only a small criminal element which is trying to spoil it."

"It would be a shame if the communists were deposed just for criminals to take over. I doubt you will let this happen. But it has been a common theme since the fall of the Iron Curtain—countries either descend into chaos or a dictatorship takes over."

"We have tried to strike a balance. Perhaps we have been too lenient, and allowed the criminal element to grow….but Roderick is right. We need to step aside; we have guided our country long enough. However, I hate to leave it to the people when Yavesh is still a growing force. It is the single biggest threat to peace and stability this country has, so we should wait until it is defeated to have elections. I'm not sure Roderick agrees with me, but I don't think we should leave such a significant threat to the people. It arose during our regime, after all, and perhaps we are partially responsible for its rise…."

"I doubt that."

"We're a small country, Jason. There is only so much we can do without resorting to authoritarian measures….and we may have to get a bit tougher on crime in order to eradicate this disease. Although there are methods I would employ that the king would avoid. Now that Luna has been kidnapped, perhaps he will be more receptive to them." She turned, the hem of her gown sweeping along the carpet. "Come. I believe it's time for dinner."

Jason took Connie's arm in his, and they followed Darya to the dining room. James was already sitting at the table with his father.

Roderick turned to Jason after he sat down. "It sounds like you've found some interesting avenues to your investigation."

"Markov wasn't kidding when he said he had information for us," said Jason. "And this isn't even the classified files. But we're going to have to start somewhere. I can't just sit around and look at information without acting on it."

"What angle do you think you'll work on first?" said Darya.

"I'd like to talk to some suspects. And of course I would like to work with the police on Luna's disappearance, to see if there are any connections. I'd also like to interview victims and families of victims, like Marija's cousins. Working several angles at once will help me find commonalities between them."

"That sounds like a good strategy—as long as you keep your focus."

"I've gotten better at that over the years. At focus, I mean." He smiled. "I also want to see if I can work with Saul and Leila, get the international angle."

Several servants came in with a salad and they began to eat.

Something struck him. "Where are Gray and Tasha?"

"They are not back yet," said Roderick. "Markov must've given them quite the project."

"I wonder what it is…." Curiosity bit into him. He wished he were able to work more closely with Gray and Tasha, but they had a directive from the NSA and he was a freelancer…best to keep a distance.

"Can I go with Jason on his investigations?" asked James.

"It's probably best if you confine your search to the computer," said Roderick.

"But I can learn a lot more on the ground!"

"I see." Roderick looked at Jason. "I don't want you to get in Jason's way, though. And I don't want you to go into danger."

"He's not in my way," said Jason. "And I'm not planning to go into danger. I'm fine with him coming with me."

"We'll discuss it later," said the king, looking at James, who looked disappointed.

After supper, Jason went back with Connie to their room and called his father.

"Hi, Dad."

"Jason! I was just thinking about checking in. The last thing I knew, you'd texted that you were headed to Muldavia."

"We're there now. We went to the centennial yesterday and today I just started my investigation."

"Are you and Connie all right?"

"We're fine. I'm not planning to run headlong into danger, although it might be harder to avoid danger than I thought. Yavesh—the organization that perpetrates most of the human trafficking in this country—is professional and lethal. They've got deep roots in Muldavia, though we have no idea how extensive the organization is; we barely know anything about it, except that it is involved in weapons as drug sales as well. Most of what we have on them is just assumption."

"Be careful, Jason."

"I will. I…would be okay with tackling this head on, even though I'd rather not face that kind of danger again—if it were just me. But it's not. I have to consider Connie in all this, and I can't risk leaving her, especially after all that's happened." Connie gave him an appreciative glance from where she stood by the window.

"I'd rather you stick to tamer adventures myself. There have been too many times in the past few years when I thought I would lose you."

A pang struck Jason's heart at this. Somehow, he'd rarely thought of what his father would feel if he lost him as well as Jerry. Partly because his father knew this business; he'd practically gotten Jason into it. He knew the risks. And partly because, for most of his adult life, Jason had felt invincible. Gray, however, had shattered that image of himself.

"Speaking of which," said Jason, "Sierra called today with news about Ai."

"Has she found her?" Jason's heart broke at the hope in his father's voice.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"She—she's gone?"

"The communists killed her, a long time ago."

"Oh…Jason." For a moment he didn't speak. When he did, his voice was thick with emotion, hoarse, as if he were holding back tears. "It would have been so wonderful to bring a part of Jerry's life into ours again."

"Maybe we still can."

"What do you mean?"

Jason told him about Ai's son—that he was a communist, that he had fled to the Philippines, that he had a daughter.

"I have another grandson!" his father said, renewed hope in his voice. "And a great-granddaughter. They can't be living in too pleasant of conditions after being kicked out of the communist party and becoming refugees."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"We need to bring them home. I wonder….You couldn't give me Sierra's number, could you?"

"Sure. You want her to give you updates too?"

"More than that. I want to go there."

"Dad—maybe you should just let Sierra—"

"I've been around the block, Jason. And I'm not that old—not as having a great-granddaughter would suggest. I can't just sit around here while I have family on the other side of the world."

"Be careful, Dad. There could be bad neighborhoods."

"That's true. But that's why I have to go. If they're in a desperate situation—I have to help them."

"I wish I could go. Maybe I'll join you when I'm finished here—if you haven't found them already. It'll probably be a long, involving process to bring them back to the States."

"It will. It still hardly seems real. It probably won't, till I see them with my own eyes."

"Do you want to talk to Connie?"

"I'd love to."

"And Dad—I think she'd like it if you'd tell her the story of how you saved Muldavia."

His father chuckled. "I'll do that. It's time she knew one of the deepest Whittaker secrets."

Jason held out the phone for Connie and she grabbed it, pressed it to her ear. "Whit! I have so much to tell you!"

Connie paced the room talking to his father for about an hour. There was a long silence punctuated with gasps and cries and "Really? No way!" When the story was apparently finished, she said, "That's awesome!" and turned to Jason, lifting the phone away a little. "Jason, your father was a king! For a day! No wonder you look like the king and the prince." She lifted the phone back to her ear and told him about staying in the palace.

Meanwhile, Jason showered and then made a fire in the fireplace. A smoky smell drifted through the room, reminding Jason of campfires he'd sat around with his family, long ago…

After Connie hung up, she sat beside him in one of the high-backed red chairs. "It's amazing that both you and your dad saved Muldavia."

"Whenever he tells that story, I'm always impressed with how heroic he was, even though he tones down what he did."

"Yeah…." She leaned forward, her elbows on her thighs, her eyes reflecting the fire.

"We both care for this country. I wonder if Dad would want to come back here…after we find Tam and—" For a second, he forgot the little girl's name.

"Mai?"

"Yes, Mai."

"That's crazy, your dad going there!"

"I don't know if it's the best idea."

"No, I mean—it's all crazy. That you have a long-lost nephew! In the Philippines. It's all going to work out after all."

"I don't want to dash your hopes—and I didn't want to mention it to Dad. He was so excited. But they might not want anything to do with us."

"They won't want to meet their family?"

"He pretty much rejected his father and everything he stood for. Let's just hope he's had a change of heart. Otherwise….we may never meet them."

Connie's brow furrowed, sorrow glittering in her eyes. "I don't want to think about that. There has to be a happy ending after all of this."

He nodded. "With Tam and Mai, and Ben and Luna, and—" He stopped himself. He was about to say "us" and something about a baby.

Connie leaned back. "I have to trust God that he knows what he's doing. Maybe he has healed me, who knows. I just…really hope that I'm not pregnant. I don't feel ready yet. Someday we can try again…just not for a while."

"It's only been two months. If you're okay with it—a year from now—"

She nodded and caught his eyes, a slight smile on her lips.

He climbed into bed and then he felt her lay down behind him. She slid her arm beneath his, searching for his hand, and he laced his fingers in hers.

"Jason!"

He jolted awake, his heart slamming hard against his chest. Connie's face, pale in the dark, her eyes wide.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He sat up beside her and drew her close, her body shaking. Then she pulled away a little, her hair tangled, tears gleaming across her cheeks.

"Connie—what happened?"

She swept her tangled hair back. "I had the dream again. The one where you were—" She closed her eyes. "It was worse. I saw the agent, you know, the one Markov showed us. Just pictures. Then the pictures came to life, and it wasn't the agent, it was you, and—Jason, please don't go into any kind of danger."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Maybe we should just leave. I can't lose you. I can't—lose anyone else."

"I'm not going anywhere, Connie. We can leave if you want."

"I know we have to try to find Ben….we promised. I just wish I could do more. And I wish there wasn't any chance of you getting hurt."

"There's not much of a chance."

"Markov said they warned them to stop investigating! What if…"

"How about this. If I see any sign of danger, I'll pull out. I'll let Sierra handle this, once she's done with the investigation in Southeast Asia. That's what I was going to do anyway, but I'd be even more cautious."

She looked up at him, her face caressed by moonlight, and he couldn't help but lean down, meet her lips in a gentle kiss. The kiss grew stronger, and morphed into more kisses, her lips against his cheek and jaw. But then she pulled away, a hint of regret in her eyes.

In the morning, Jason climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her, snatched a quick breakfast, and headed out to the police station in the capital.