She wasn’t sure what finally woke her, the deep heavy breathing, or the feather light touch of his caress traveling up her thigh. She felt that caress as it rested briefly at her waist, a little too briefly, she thought, as it continued on till the sensation settled on her naked breast.  It might have been the change in temperature as the soft tent of covers held in his heat.  She had never known anyone who could generate such heat, just lying next to her.  As she let consciousness take her, she noticed the clean smell of hotel soap mingled with toothpaste, and a smell that she had come to cherish and recognize even in a crowd of people. 

Her eyes fluttered open and studied the broad chest with its mat of wiry hair; the rich brown flecked with gray.  His biceps, pecs and abs firm and well defined; kept in shape by a grueling exercise regiment that started each morning with a three-mile run. 

Now, completely awake, she let her gaze drop as her hand and arm swept aside the covers before stroking his manhood.  Running her perfectly manicured nail up the vein on the underside of his penis, her eyes gravely assessed the effect of her touch.  His shuddering intake of breath drew her gaze. Slowly, she lifted her head to stare into his deep brown eyes, now nearly black with passion. 

His hand left her breast and gently cupped her jaw.  His voice sent shock waves through her.  “Good morning, Colonel MacKenzie.”

She moved a little closer; now their lips were only a scant inch apart, “What time did you get in?”

He bent and captured her mouth in his.  She parted her lips and as tongues dueled and teeth nipped each other, he drew her closer, shifting slightly until she straddled him.  Breaking the kiss, gasping for breath, eyes never leaving each other, she rubbed her hot wet sex along his stomach.  He pushed her gently upward and began to caress and massage her breasts, teasing her nipples, causing moans of pleasure in them both.  “Oh Sarah, it’s been too long.”

Moving down until she was positioned over his straining erection, she plunged down on him in one smooth motion.  He had been gone nearly a week and she had been in Florida on a case the week before. Now was not the time for prolonged foreplay; hopefully there would be time after the wedding and the reception.  He grabbed her hips and helped her move up and down his shaft until he could feel her walls tighten around him.  He reached between them, adding just enough friction to help her climax.  Throwing back her head, she cried out her release.  As she fell forward into his arms, he deftly flipped them over and began a frenzied assault, thrusting and pumping until he felt the exquisite tightening of his balls. He buried himself deep inside her, chanting her name like a prayer.

He returned them to their original position, his hand back upon her hip, her head resting on his arm.  Catching her breath at last, she noticed how light the room was and peered over his shoulder to the window across the room.  Pausing for just a second to calibrate her internal clock she gasped.  “What time did you get in?”

Almost near sleep now, he muttered,  “0630 hours.”

She sat up and stared down at her lover and former C.O., former JAG, now Director of the CIA.  “I thought the plane was due in at 0200 hours.”

Rousing himself, AJ Chegwidden tiredly reached up and removed a strand of hair away from her mouth.  “I had to divert from LA to Houston and back up to Chicago.  Damn snow storm is coming this way.”  He snuggled her close.  “We may be snowed in and have to spend days and days here.”  With a wistful sigh, he finally nodded off, lips pursed, a slight snore just beginning. 

Sarah MacKenzie lay there for just a moment before rolling out of bed and heading toward the connecting door of the two bedrooms.  Being involved with a single, high-ranking government official did seem to have some perks. The room she had checked into was a suite on the 40th floor of the Four Seasons Hotel.  He had reserved both the suite and the connecting room.  The furnishings were far more plush than any hotel she had ever stayed in; well maybe not quite as plush as the suite at the Dorchester in London.  After he had saved her from the terrorist Hans Breckner, they had finally given in to the emotions they both had tried so hard to deny while he was her boss at JAG. 

So much had happened in the six, short weeks since then.  Harmon Rabb, Jr. had still not returned to active duty after his brush with death in the canals of Amsterdam.  She was rather surprised that Renee had allowed him to come to Chicago for the wedding.  But they had flown in with her yesterday afternoon, Mac helping Renee get Rabb out of O’Hare Airport and settled in a suite a few floors below. 

Sarah wandered over to the window facing north, and looked out on cold, choppy Lake Michigan.  The doorman had assured her that the weather in Chicago the weekend after Thanksgiving was usually very mild.  She snorted and turned back to the room to study the myriad array of suitcases he had dumped on the floor before joining her in bed.  Shaking her head in exasperation, she reached for the garment bag and padded over to the bed.  Opening it, she pulled out his tuxedo and a dark blue Armani suit, wishing for a moment that it was his dress uniform. She examined both in the brightening light and then hung them in the closet.  She reached for the phone and asked the concierge to have both suits pressed for 1300 hours.  The wedding was at 1500 hours in a Catholic Church in Berwyn, a small suburb outside the city limits.  The limo would pick them up an hour before the ceremony to give them plenty of time to get to the church.  She and Renee had a date with the hairdresser on the 7th floor of Bloomingdales at 0900 hours. 

She returned to her own room and gazed down at AJ, now sprawled across the bed.  She threw on one of the huge terry cloth robes the hotel provided and put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on her door.  She was just getting into the shower when she heard the knock on the door in the other room.  Hurrying in before AJ could stir, she opened the door and handed the bellhop the two suits.  “They have to be back here by 1300 hours, that’s 1:00 o’clock.”

The young man nodded.  “No problem ma’am.”
 

***
Clayton Webb slowly came awake as a moist heat gently engulfed his morning erection.  Opening his eyes, he gazed down into the impossibly deep blue eyes of Ann Taylor. She took him deep into her mouth, and he groaned in pleasure as her tongue teased him.  He brought his hand up to run his fingers through the rich auburn hair that framed her face.  He spared a moment to ponder how many different colors her hair had been in the seven months he had known her, though he supposed the bright vivid blue she had dyed it for Halloween hadn’t counted. 

He marveled at how she had so completely captivated him on such an fundamental level.  Clayton Webb, the master of control, who hid anything and everything from everybody, had waited nearly forty years to find someone he could be so open with, and not just during moments like these.  He found that he would stop working on some report he had brought home just to gaze at her, as she sat reading in a chair across the room.  Her scent, now that she had finally moved into his townhouse, was ingrained in the very fabric of his life.

He sat up, causing her to release him with a pop.  “Com’ere.” He reached out and caressed her smooth skin. Starting with her shoulders, he moved lower as she crawled up his torso. He wasn't the only one doing the caressing. She was kissing and licking him as she moved up his body, pausing to flick her tongue at his nipples before settling in his lap.  He traced her pebbled aureoles, finally eliciting a moan of pleasure from her, the sound driving him wild.  “Christ, Annie.  What you do to me.” He captured her sly grin in a heated kiss and he reveled in the taste of her, the feel of her. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist trapping his penis between them, rubbing it against the swell of her belly.  At four months, she was just beginning to show.  Still trying to maintain some control, he pleaded, “Please, let me kiss you.”

She arched back in his embrace exposing her tender breasts, and he began a torturous assault upon them.  Her nipples had become hypersensitive and as he suckled each one in turn, she ran her fingers through his hair, moaning, “oh Clay, please baby, I need you in me.” 

He growled low at her insistence, “God, Annie you’re insatiable,” but he helped her guide him to her opening. Then, he reached up and grabbed her hips, teasing her, holding her off him. 

“Claaaaay,” she wailed as he continued to tease every inch of skin he could reach. He ran his hands around her firm hips, tracing them until she sank down on him. She pressed forward, grinding down on him until her clit rubbed against his pubic hair.  He held her tightly, keeping her still for a moment as wave after wave of sensation washed over them. When he couldn't take it any longer, he thrust up into her again and again. Breathing became erratic as she met him move for move. Burying her lips into the indention in his shoulder, she screamed her release, her orgasm triggering his.  He clutched her to his chest as he tried to catch his breath.   Short raspy chuckles caused her to pull her head back and peer at him.  “D-damn, babe.  Weren’t we supposed to do this after the wedding?”  Her answering laugh bubbled up and he lowered her down until he lay covering her with his body.  “I love you Annie Taylor.”

She reached up and traced a small scar on his cheek. “I love you Clayton Webb and I just wanted you to be nice and relaxed for the ceremony.”

Laying back, he let his chuckle grow. “Speaking of which, aren’t you supposed to be at your mother’s in an hour?”

24-November
1545 hours
Berwyn, IL

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton Webb.” It was fitting that Father Kilpatrick marry them; he had baptized her, given her 1st Holy Communion and Confirmed her.  She hadn’t noticed until last April, when she had returned for her brother Matt’s wedding just how old he had gotten.  His gray hair was wispy thin and his gate had slowed. His voice, however, still had a resonance that rang forth through the church that had been built in this working class suburb nearly a hundred years ago. 

She gazed out at her family and friends.  Admiral Chegwidden, sat in the first row next to Porter Webb.  The Roberts had flown in early this morning, and would leave for home first thing tomorrow morning.  She glanced back at Sarah MacKenzie and winked.  She hadn’t had many friends at the DEA and fewer girlfriends, so she was thrilled that she and the Marine Colonel had bonded upon their return from Amsterdam.  They bonded so well that Sarah had agreed to stand up for her.  She was even more shocked, but equally pleased that Renee Rabb had also agreed.  Clay had asked Tim Fawkes to be his best man as well as Harmon Rabb, but had insisted that Rabb only do it if he felt up to it.  Today was a good day for Rabb, and he had managed the entire hour's ceremony.  She hoped that after going back to the hotel for a rest, he and Renee would feel up to coming to the reception.

As they walked down the aisle, Annie considered how incredible it had been that Mary Taylor and Porter Webb had worked so well together in pulling this off.  Annie had listened for all of five minutes to her mother’s plans before announcing.  “Mom, I’ll take care of the dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses and you handle everything else.” 

Her mother would have done it too, an extraordinary feat considering that she had less than five weeks to pull it off.  It wasn’t until the day before Halloween that she had called Annie in tears.  “I just can’t find a place for the reception.  There’s not enough time.  Everything is booked for that weekend.”  Porter had been over for dinner when the call came through. After listening to Annie’s side of the conversation which consisted mainly of, “Mom, it’s fine, we’ll just have dinner at a nice restaurant,” she had gently taken the phone from her future daughter-in-law. She introduced herself to Mary Taylor and  insisted on taking care of the reception. 

“My, dear Mrs. Taylor, I know several people in Chicago.  Let me handle it.  Now, how many people are we inviting?”  The result was that they had a beautiful room at the Four Seasons.  She thought her parents would be upset by the showy address, but if they were, they kept it to themselves.  Mary had booked the rehearsal dinner at “The Lobster House” in Berwyn and taken care of everything else. 

Fortunately, the bachelor party had been a week ago, with Webb’s friends from the Agency and JAG. AJ had hosted it at McMurphy’s; the presence of the current JAG and the Director of the CIA had pretty much kept a lid on the festivities.  Annie had heard vague rumblings about Bud Roberts’ bachelor party and had to wait for her own ‘bachelorette’ party to hear how Mac had to bail out the Admiral and Rabb from jail. 

As they stepped out into the bright freezing November afternoon, she was glad she had picked a white velvet, antique wedding dress. The sleeves were form-fitting, the bodice draped so that no one, who didn’t already know, could tell she was pregnant.  They paused for a few photos before running down to the waiting limo. 

They returned to her childhood home where her mother had planned a small tea for them with just Porter Webb, AJ and Mac, Tim Fawkes and her brother Matt and his wife. As they entered the small bungalow, Clay was touched by all the work his new in-laws had gone to.  He had made an effort not to make too much of a fuss over their arrangements. He thanked them sincerely, knowing that they were feeling self-conscious about the difference between the Taylor and Webb incomes.  He let his father-in-law - “Hank, Clay.  Call me Hank”- hang up his tux jacket and lead him into the large dining room.  The table was covered in an assortment of platters of finger food and carafes of coffee and tea.  “You want a beer, Clay?” 

“Ah, no Hank.  Thanks, I think I’ll have enough later tonight.”

His father-in-law nodded and reached for a cup.  “Yeah, it ought to be some shin-dig.  Mary made me take her out to Oak Brook for her dress for tonight.  I didn’t even ask how much, just handed over the card.  Coffee or tea, Clay?”

Clay glanced over to where Annie was standing, talking to her mother, waiting for the others to arrive.  “Ah, nothing right now, Hank.  I want to check on how Annie’s holding up.”

Hank took his son-in-law’s arm and shook his head.  “She’s fine Clay, the others will stopping by shortly.  Let me show you the rest of the house.”

Clay caught the undercurrent of tension in Hank’s voice and sighed.  <<<Well, better get this over with.>>>  “Sure Hank, love to.”

Hank led Clay through the large country kitchen.   A small round table stood in the center, just one of the many comfortable features of the warm room. He continued on to the back porch, which had been finished off with paneling and storm windows.  A set of white wicker furniture and a huge rag rug were the only furnishings this time of year.  Pointing to a straw covered area in the back yard, Hank said with pride,  “You can’t see it now, but I get a pretty good crop of strawberries out there every year.” 

Clay nodded and waited, eyeing the tall burly man out of the corner of his eye.  His own father had been slight of build, and he could barely picture him in his mind’s eye anymore.  This man looked like he could wrestle engines from their chassis if the need arose. 

“So Clay, tell me the truth, you doing the right thing by my girl or do you love her?”

Clay breathed a sigh of relief.  He suspected Hank hadn’t been real happy with him and would have preferred a son-in-law he could have talked strawberries and cars with - not some snot-nosed rich kid with some plush job in the State Department.  “I love your daughter more than life itself, Hank.  I asked her to marry me because I will love our child and any other children that come our way." He added quietly.  "And, I want to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of my life.”  He had rehearsed that speech for three days, but as he spoke, realized that he didn't need to rehearse. It was the truth and it came easily. 

Hank seemed satisfied for a moment then dropped his bombshell.  “So, how dangerous is your work with the CIA?”

Clay went pale and then red.  Clamping his jaw tight, he took a deep breath.  “I sure wish Annie hadn’t told you…”

Hank snorted.  “Annie didn’t tell me, Clay.  Just like Annie didn’t tell me she had been undercover for two years in Miami.”  He studied this cocky looking man who had claimed his daughter for himself.  He let an edge come to his voice.  “Remember something, son, just because I get my hands dirty for a living doesn’t mean I don’t have friends.  Did you see who came to the wedding?” 

Clay gulped.  He really hadn’t paid too much attention to the guest list, but he remembered the people he had noticed walking down the aisle.  At the time he had seen him, he had been surprised, but just figured that Annie knew him somehow.  “I didn’t know you knew the Senator, uhm…Hank.”

Hank Taylor smiled.  “I’ve helped get him elected every time he’s run.  Mary and I were at his DC re-election wing-ding two years ago. When Annie told me about you, I made a phone call.  He didn’t tell me much except that you worked for the Agency, as he called it.”  He paused, letting Clay reassess his view of his ‘blue-collar’ in-laws.  “So how dangerous is this job of yours?”

Clay took a deep breath.  “Well, since I’ve been promoted to Deputy Director, not nearly as dangerous as it used to be.”

“Ah huh.  Now, what are you going to do about Miss DEA in there?”

“What do you want him to do about me, daddy?” 

Clay let out a sigh of relief as Annie came up and took his arm in hers.  “Hi, sweetheart, your dad and I…”

Annie laughed.  “Daddy was giving you the third degree, just like he used to give the football players that used to try and take me out?”

Clay glared, “You used to date football players?”

Annie jabbed him.  “Don’t try and change the subject.  Now daddy, you were saying?”

Just then, they heard voices coming from the front of the house, and Hank took the opportunity to escape.  “I’ll just see to our guests,” he muttered as he nearly ran into the kitchen.

Clay swung her into his arms and kissed her on the nose.  “You look radiant, Mrs. Webb.”

She let a slow smile grace her lips. “Do I, Mr. Webb?”  He bent forward and captured her lips in his, enveloping her in a hug.

“Hey you two, get a room why don’t you?” 

Webb touched his forehead to Annie’s and muttered.  “Have one.  In-laws won’t…oomph.”

Annie smiled sweetly and brushed off the non-existent lint from where she had jabbed him.  “Hi Mac, Hi Mom.”

Blushing deeply, Clay turned to face Mary Taylor only to find a huge smile on both Mac and his mother-in-law’s face. With great dignity, he sniffed,  “Well since there is absolutely nothing I can say that won’t get me into more trouble, I shall go in and get some coffee now.”  He turned back to his bride and sweetly asked, “May I bring you something, precious?” 

She glared at him and responded with saccharine dripping from her voice, “No snookums, I’ll get something later.”

As he walked into the kitchen, he heard the giggles and the laughter erupt out on the porch behind him.  He noticed AJ getting a glass of water at the sink.  AJ turned and looked at him, then into the room beyond, grinning knowingly.  “Already started, has it?”

“Oh yeah.”

“You can’t win, you know.”

“I know.”  Clay looked at his boss and started to ask when AJ was going to join the club but realized that neither of them had enough to drink for him to broach the subject.

Annie watched her husband walk into the dining room, a happy smile creasing her face.  Her mother studied her youngest daughter and asked quietly, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?  Do you want to lay down?”

Annie tore her gaze from her husband’s butt and forced a sober expression to her face.  She didn’t dare meet Sarah MacKenzie’s gaze, though from what she could see from the corner of her eye, the good Colonel was suddenly extremely interested in the pattern of the rag rug at her feet.  “Uhm…no mom, I’m fine, though I think I should go in and sit for a few minutes with Clay’s mother.” 

“Well, if you’re sure, dear.  I hope Porter enjoys the canapés.  Mrs. Walinski made them for me.”

Mac linked her arm through Annie’s. “Come on, I want to try Mrs. Walinski’s canapés too.”

AJ and Mac left shortly after having coffee and talking with Annie’s family. As the limo drove them back to the hotel, Mac watched the skyline as it lit up the night sky.  While only 1800 hours, the lights of the city shown like crystals in the frosty night.  AJ never took his eyes off of Mac.  He had wakened alone that morning and her absence made him ache.  By the time she returned he had showered, dressed, and ordered room service for them both. Truth be told, he only wanted to take her back to bed and make slow passionate love to her all day long.  She had helped matters all she could by dressing demurely in her own room, only asking for help with the tiny seed pearl buttons up the back of her royal blue velvet dress.  She hadn’t teased him at all, and he was beginning to think she was upset about something when she turned from the window and snuggled into his suit coat.  “You looked mighty good all decked out, Admiral, sir.”  She smiled up at him.  “Annie’s cousin, Nancy, was particularly interested in you.  She was definitely checking out your six.”

AJ looked deep into her eyes and grunted.  “And tell me, Colonel MacKenzie, just when did you see this Nancy checking out my posterior?”

“While we were waiting for the limo.  She kept looking over her husband’s shoulder at you.”

“I see.  Should I make a point of asking her to dance tonight?” 

“Depends.”

“On what?”

She smiled wickedly up at him.  “On who you plan on taking back to the 40th floor tonight?”

“Ah, so I shall sit quietly at the table and get a reputation of being a standoffish bureaucratic snob.”  His hand began to outline her lips.

Caressing his thigh, brown eyes met brown eyes and two sets of lips grinned in unison before meeting in a sweet, tender kiss. They broke away from each other only when they heard a discrete cough from the front seat.  “Uhm…you folks want me to go up The Drive for a ways?”

AJ sighed. “Best just get us back to the hotel.”

24-November
2200 hours
Chicago, IL

The band had just started to play and Clayton Webb led his wife out to the middle of the room.  They danced to a very good rendition of “How Do I,” the singer that Annie’s brother had found every bit as good as either LeeAn Rimes or Trisha Yearwood.  Annie hummed the song and her mouth was so close to his ear that Clay no longer cared if there was anyone else in the room.  He had really come to like that strange Chicago custom of someone banging a knife against a glass, demanding a kiss. 

As the song ended, he led Ann over to her father and danced first with his mother-in-law, and then with his mother. He had previously arranged for the band to play a tango for them.  The applause was genuine; the glow on his mother’s cheeks its own reward.  “Darling, in case I haven’t told you, I like your new wife very much.”  She whispered just as AJ and Mac stopped next to them.  “Why yes Admiral, I would love to dance.” 

Clay found himself twirling Mac around the room.  They had been through a lot together this past year and he felt he could count her among his few friends.   “It was a lovely wedding, Clay.  And the food was wonderful, and you just can’t beat the view from up here.”  He followed her gaze out the window, the streaking lights of the cars on Lake Shore Drive looking like a stop action photo from up here.

He looked back at her and shyly asked, “So how are you and my new boss getting along, Colonel?”

Sarah met his gaze, retorting merrily.  “Well enough, Mr. Webb, well enough for now.”

“Well, I’d watch Annie’s cousin if I were you.  I see she keeps eyeing the Director with a lustful gleam in her eye.” 

Sarah laughed and slapped at his shoulder.  Turning serious again, her voice dropped so low that he had to lean in to hear her.  “It still sounds so weird.  Director, not Admiral.” 

Clay laughed, “Sarah, honey, he’s always gonna be the Admiral.  Hell, he could be elected President and a lot of us would still slip and call him Admiral.”  He studied her gravely, “What’s wrong?”

Sarah shook her head.  “Nothing really. I just hope we can get a little quality time together.  What time is your flight to Paris?”

Clay groaned.  “6:30, which means we have to leave the hotel at 4:30.  Oh well, I can sleep on the plane.”

He led her back to the table and cocked his head at Rabb.  “So hero, how are you feeling.” 

Rabb smiled wanly, “I’m doing just fine, Webb.”  He looked over at his wife of a year and smiled, “You up for me stepping on your toes for one dance?” 

Renee’s relieved smile lit the table.  “Step away, sailor.” 

Clay looked out across the room and was pleased to see his mother dancing with the Senator. AJ was dancing with Annie and Mac was sharing a dance with Hank.  He decided to take a moment and go to the men’s room.  Making his way across the floor, he entered the art deco decorated room.  He was washing his hands when the door to the stall behind him opened.   Fifteen years of training automatically kicked in. He tensed, spun, and kicked the gun from the man’s hand, but his attacker had only been a decoy. Strong hands grabbed him from behind.  Someone grabbed his hair as he felt the needle jam into his neck. 

Something was terribly wrong; the sharp blinding pain brought him to his knees long before the drug took effect.  The last thing he heard was a vaguely familiar voice talking from far away, 

“Now you will pay, all of you will pay.” 

The pain was so intense that he nearly vomited as the men dragged him outside.  Everything was blurry now, and he felt himself being jammed into a small confining space.  A sinking feeling swept over him as he finally lost his grip on consciousness.
 

25-November
00:06
Chicago

Annie looked around the room trying to find Clay.  He hadn’t been out of her sight for more than five minutes since she had stepped onto the red carpet leading to the altar.  <<<Get a grip, girl, the man probably just went to the men’s room.>>>  She turned to her father who was expounding to AJ on the need  for proper mulching for the very best strawberries.  <<<Bless you, AJ, for not having a glazed look in your eyes.>>>  She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong though.  She rose from the table and made her way through the crowd, constantly stopping for pictures and hugs and thanking people for coming.  She had just made it to the corridor leading to the restroom when a red jacketed waiter approached her.  “Mrs. Webb?” 

“Yes.”  Her own training kicked in and she stared at the young man warily, committing his features to memory. 

“A note for you, ma’am.”  The boy held his hand out, extending  an envelope.  Ann’s eyes darted around her, but the only person she could see was Renee approaching down the hall.  She took the envelope, but before she could say anything, the waiter turned and went back into the service area.  The envelope was thick and heavy.  She pushed open the door to the ladies' lounge, every alarm going off in her head.  Scanning the room, she  opened  the door to each stall before leaning against the cold marble tiled wall. Finally, she  slit the seal.  Pulling out the contents of the envelope, she  realized that most of its bulk  could be attributed to a plane ticket.  She pulled out the piece of paper,

My Dear Mrs. Webb,

Aren’t you happy that I allowed the wedding to take place?  I could have taken him at any time this past week you know, but I thought it fitting to allow you one last pleasure before I took my revenge. 

If you want to see your husband alive again, you will make the flight.  You have very little time.  I suggest you leave now, go to your room, change, grab both your passports.  The flight leaves O’Hare at 2:00 AM.  If you are not on it, Webb dies.  You are being watched, and if you tell anyone, Webb dies.  You owe me, my dear, and I will exact my revenge.

Yours truly,

Uncle Teddy

“Hey Annie, you feeling okay?” 

Annie jerked her head up at the sound of Renee’s voice.  Panic seized her, but she forced herself to remain calm.  “Yeah.  A little tired, that’s all.”  The door swung open again, and a pretty, dark-haired maid walked in and began poking around the stalls.  Annie knew immediately that the maid was one of the  watchers mentioned in the note.  “I'm fine really, just a little out of sorts. Are you enjoying the party?”

Renee studied Clayton Webb’s new wife.  She didn’t know her very well and had been surprised to be asked to stand up for her at the wedding. At least she had walked down the aisle with Harm, and didn’t have to sit in the pew watching him paired with Mac again.  “Yeah, it’s a great party, I’m really glad that Harm has been up to it.  I suppose he'll be itching to get back to work soon.”  Renee cocked her head to one side, but couldn’t figure out what else to say.  “Well if you’re sure you don’t want me to stay, I just came in to wash my hands." 

Annie thought quickly.  She didn’t have a lot of time and the maid was eyeing her from across the room.  She made a quick decision and grabbing a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, she folded the stiff white paper into them.  She prayed that Renee would feel the difference and read the letter.  “Here, Renee.”  She thrust the towels into the producer’s startled grasp, making desperate eye contact, before turning to step between Renee and the maid.  “Excuse me, miss, I wonder if you could get me a glass of soda, I’m feeling kind of woozy.”

She almost wept when she heard the garbage can top swing inward and Renee blithely call out, “Well, I’ll see you back at the table.  I hope you’re feeling better.”

As soon as the door closed, Annie locked eyes with the maid who had an evil glint to her eye.  “I suppose you're going to follow me until I get on the plane.”  Annie hissed.

The woman sneered.  “Not me, Senora, but someone.” 

Annie turned and fled.  She ran down the hall toward the elevator.  She didn’t look back and didn’t see Renee hand the paper to AJ.
 

25-November 
0300 hours
Somewhere over the US

Annie sat petrified in her seat, one row ahead of her obviously sick husband and his ‘nursemaid.’  The large, evil looking man had met her at the entrance to the airport.  Clay was slumped over in a wheelchair.  As she ran toward him, a man that she recognized from her two years at Ortiz’s mansion, stepped up next to her.  “Well Prudence, it’s time to pay the piper.”  He walked with her up to the wheelchair and lifted Webb’s head.  “You see, he’s still alive, but he won’t be if he doesn’t get the antidote in five hours.  His systems are already starting to shut down.”  He dropped Webb’s chin and the spy’s head nodded down to his chest again. 

She had gotten them past airport security, explaining that while he looked like he was drunk, he was actually very sick and she was taking him home to Miami.  She was forced to introduce Hector Gurerrero as Clay’s physician and Tino Chapa as Clay’s attendant. That was the reason why she was now sitting next to Hector while Tino kept a careful watch on Webb. 

She ran over her options quickly, and realized that even if Renee had kept the paper and if she gave it to AJ, then he would still be behind them in Chicago.  She needed help on the other end.  She swallowed as she remembered the flight designations. Chicago to Miami where they would change from American Airlines to Copa Airlines to complete their trip to Medellin, Columbia. She had one chance, and it was dicey at best. 

 Annie waited until they were well underway, going over her options yet again. She was thankful she had been able to keep herself together in the hotel room when she quickly shed her wedding dress, tearing the small buttons in her haste.  She stripped down to her underwear and quickly donned comfortable slacks, knit shirt, socks and tennis shoes.  Grabbing a small carry-on, she stuffed their passports, the money from the hotel safe, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, the small first aid kit she kept in her suitcase.  She  quickly added a change of clothes and his sneakers, and shoved them into the suitcase as well. Again, she couldn’t have explained her reasoning if a gun had been held to her head.  She was working on pure gut instinct now, and instinct told her to leave the gun in the safe where it was.  As she was leaving the hotel room, she suddenly turned and ran back in and found his briefcase.  She dumped the contents on the floor and grabbed his cell phone.  The cell phone that he bragged would work anywhere. 

She was surprised that Hector had only checked her carry-on, grabbing the passports and the small bundle of cash she left in it.  He had not searched her person, but when they went through the security port he watched the x-ray scanner with rapt attention.  She had held her breath as she walked through the gate and breathed a silent sigh of relief when the alarm didn’t pick up the cell phone she had strapped between her thighs.  Her heavy coat and loose fitting shirt hid her condition form the men.  She brutally pushed all thoughts of her child out of her mind.  She couldn’t dwell on the child now.  She would have to do whatever she had to, to keep all of them safe. 

Now, she began to squirm in her seat.  She leaned over and whispered to Hector, “I’m going to the john.”

She reached for her bag, but he grabbed her wrist.  With an exaggerated sigh, she wrenched her hand away and stood up.  She could see Tino tense, but she kept her eyes on Clay for only a minute before turning and entering the small bathroom.  She prayed Clay’s cell phone was as good as he boasted.  As she locked the door, she already had the phone out, dialing a number she hadn’t used in over a year.  She prayed he was in, hell it was after 4 a.m. in Miami.  He answered after only two rings.  “’lo.”

“I’m in trouble.  Delgato has grabbed Webb and he is forcing us to go to Medellin.  Can you help me?”

“What flight?”

“American Airlines 1213, we’re landing at 5:30.”

“I’ll be there.  Don’t look for me, I’ll do what I can.”  The connection broke and she closed the phone.  She thought of calling AJ, but the doorknob rattled insistently.  Suspecting that she would be searched, she shoved the phone down into the toilet, past the metal closure.  The phone was small enough that it fit, she just hoped that no one paid attention as they flushed.
 

25-November
0300 hours
Chicago, IL

AJ paced the hotel suite willing the phone to ring.  Rabb sat at one of the suite’s desks talking intently into his cell phone while Renee huddled deep into one of the wingback chairs. She had tucked her shoeless feet under her evening gown, rumpled now from the long evening. She studied the men before her. 

She had immediately realized that Annie was in trouble when she noticed the paper Annie had shoved in between the towels. The maid had made both of them nervous for some reason. So, she had wiped her hands and palming the paper, she made a show of tossing away the paper towels.  She forced herself to walk slowly out into the ballroom and made a beeline back to the table.  Keeping her back to the room, she stood before AJ, but smiled at her husband.  “Honey, don’t make a show of it, but is there a maid standing in the hallway, looking at me?”

Harm snorted.  “What the heck did you do Renee? She’s staring at you like you didn’t leave her a tip.”

AJ caught the look on Renee’s face and forcing his face into a calm mask, growled out, “What happened?” 

Suddenly alert, Harm let his eyes search his wife’s face.  Renee leaned forward and kissed Rabb, obliquely dropping the paper in front of AJ.  She waited until she heard his hiss of anger and then stood back up.  “What does it say?”

AJ folded the paper, looked up at her, and smiled.  “I’ll tell you in a little bit, but don’t you think Rabb here is looking a little tired.  I think you ought to go make your good-byes and go to your suite.  When I get back to our rooms, I’ll call you. Just make sure that whoever is watching doesn’t suspect anything." 

Renee gulped, looked at Harm, and in a voice a little louder than necessary, squeaked, “I don’t care, Mr. I’ve-landed-F-16’s-feeling-worse-than-this, we are leaving now.”  Turning, she quickly made her way over to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, kissed them both, said their good-byes and was leading Rabb away before the look of shock could materialize on his face.” 

AJ looked over the dance floor and saw Mac dancing with Bud Roberts, Harriet in the arms of one of the Taylor cousin’s.  He had just started to cross the floor to cut in when a syrupy sweet voice slurred, “Now, I have got to have at least one dance with the sexiest man here.”  He sighed and glared at Nancy, Annie’s cousin.  He could tell how drunk she was and wanting to avoid a scene, swept her into his arms and proceeded to waltz her around the room, all the while keeping a close eye on the maid.  He realized that drastic measures were called for, so at the next turn he purposely bumped into Bud and Mac, and before either Bud or Nancy realized what had happened, Nancy found herself in Lt. Roberts’ arms, glaring over his shoulder as AJ twirled Mac away. 

“That was slick, AJ.  Why?”  Sarah asked conversationally, not really caring since she was back in her lover’s arms.  Suddenly though, she sensed something was wrong.  Wrong in his stance, in the way that he held her, in the way that his back muscles were tensed under his tuxedo suit.  “What’s wrong?”

Keeping a smile that must have looked like rictus plastered to his face, he gritted out.  “We have to get out of here, but we’re being watched.  I want you to get mad for some reason, slap my face and leave.  Do it, Sarah, just like you did to Clay in Miami.”  A wave of fear gripped him.  What if Delgato wanted Sarah, too?  She had been there when they had brought the drug dealer down.  He saw the shocked look on her face.  “Sarah, watch your back.  Don’t get on the elevator if anyone, kitchen staff, wait staff, anybody that you don’t know, is on it or tries to get on it with you.” 

“You’re scaring me, AJ.  Can’t you tell me…” The look on his face stopped her and she closed her eyes.  When she opened them, a new, disgusted look covered her face.  She pushed him away and declared to everyone nearby, “You’re drunk, again.  I’ve had it, Admiral!”  With that, she turned and ran from the room, not noticing a small smile of satisfaction on both Nancy’s face and the Latina maid’s.  She waited only a minute for the elevator that would take her down to the main lobby where she would need to change elevators back up to her room. 

The door opened quickly and as she stepped in she heard a breathless, “Hold the elevator, please.”  She quickly pressed the close door button and just before the doors sealed, she saw the enraged look of a hotel maid glaring, muttering curses in Spanish. 

Now, nearly three hours later, AJ waited to hear from sources at State and the FBI on the whereabouts of Theodore Delgato and Armando Ortiz.  Rabb was talking to friends with the Chicago FBI trying to figure out what flight Annie and Webb had taken and Mac was checking Webb’s suite.  AJ ran his hand over his head staring at the phone, willing it to ring, when a soft insistent knock drew him to the door.  He kept the sigh from his voice and motioned them in. 

Hank Taylor spun around, faced AJ, and snapped.  “What the hell is going on?” 

Before AJ could close the door, Mac rushed in breathless. “We’ve got trou…. hello, Mr. & Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Webb.”  Looking at AJ for some kind of sign, she heard a gasp and a whimper from Mary Taylor and a growl from Hank.  “I’ll ask once more.  What the hell…?”

AJ closed the door firmly and gently admonished,  “Sit down, Hank.  I’ll tell you in a minute.”  Assuming his role of command, he turned to his lover and ordered,  “Report, Colonel.”

Mac took a deep breath.  “I got a spare key card from the front desk.  Someone needs to talk to them about that by the way.  The room is a mess, but not because anyone tore it up, it looks like someone was trying to get out of there in a hurry.  The safe door was standing open and if I remember correctly, Annie said they were keeping their passports and some cash in it, along with Clay’s weapon.  Annie said she had given up packing a piece once she accepted the analyst position with DEA.  Well, the gun’s still there, but the money and passports aren’t anywhere to be seen.  I couldn’t tell if she took luggage, there are several pieces, but no carry-on.”  She paused for a breath, and once again looked at the ashen faces of the Taylor's, Porter Webb’s more stoic, before continuing in a subdued voice.  “Her…uhm…wedding dress is in the middle of the room, kinda' pooled on the floor.  I did a quick search, but I can’t see that anything is missing.  Clay’s briefcase was thrown against a chair and papers and pens and his palm pilot are scattered on the floor.  Does anybody know if he had his cell-phone on him?”

AJ looked bewildered. Rabb, who had hung up to listen to her report, just shrugged.  It was Hank Taylor who supplied the answer.  “No.  I teased him about it at the rehearsal dinner, when he took a call from someone.  I remember asking him what he was going to do - if in the middle of the “I do’s” - the phone rang.”  Hank shook himself trying to regain some control.  “He told me ‘no way, this baby’s going to bed in the briefcase until we get back from Paris.”  A low sniffle from Mary brought their attention to the grieving mother. 

Renee rose gracefully from the chair and came to sit by the woman on the couch.  Reaching out, she pulled Mary Taylor into a snug embrace.  “There, it will be okay.  These guys are the best.”  Looking up at Mac and smiling, she continued, “Isn’t that right, Mac?”

Remembering how Clay and Annie and AJ had rescued her from Amsterdam, she nodded gravely.  “We’ll get them back Mary, Mrs. Webb.  I promise.”

AJ was going to suggest that Hank take Mary home, but he realized that Delgato’s men might still be watching for some slip on their part.  “Look, Hank, I’m trying to get some stuff done here.  Why don’t you and Mary go to the room next door and try and get some rest?  If there’s anything you can do to help, I’ll let you know.  But now all we are doing is waiting.”

After the Taylor’s had closed the door between the rooms, AJ turned to Porter Webb, “I know you’ve been down this path before, Porter. There’s nothing I can say that will make it better.  If you don’t mind, I’ll have Lieutenant Roberts come and stay with you. 

Porter Webb shook her head.  “No thank you, Admiral.  I think I’ll sit here for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Before AJ could comment, Rabb’s cell phone bleeped.  “Rabb.  Yeah, Mike!  What have you got?  Uh huh.  Okay.  Damn!  What about on the other end?  Yeah, I’ll wait.”  He flipped his phone closed and met AJ’s anxious gaze.  “It looks like Annie met Clay at the airport.  They caught an early bird flight to Miami. The security camera caught it all.  Mike Feldstein is getting us pictures, but he did say Clay was slumped over in a wheelchair and there were two men with them.  I’m gonna run down…”

“No, you’re not!”  Renee glared at her husband.

“Renee!”

“No! You’re! Not!  Let the FBI bring them here.  You need rest and you know it.  You’re white as a sheet.”

“She’s right, Commander.”  AJ hadn’t noticed just how tired Rabb looked.  “I need you, Rabb.  As soon as I hear anything, I’m flying down to Miami.”  He didn’t dare look at Mac and was saved from her angry glare by the phone shrilling into the tense air. 

While AJ took a report from his people in Washington, Mac quietly entered the other room.  As she suspected, Hank and Mary were huddled together on the couch across from the TV.  Without saying anything, she grabbed one of AJ’s small suitcases and quickly packed a change of underwear, some jeans and a couple of shirts.  She grabbed a pair of khakis, another shirt and found his soft leather boots.  Returning to the suite, she silently waited until he got off the phone.  “Here, you’ll look pretty funny flying down in the monkey suit.”  He eyed her, wondering if it was Harm and Renee’s presence that was keeping her from insisting on coming with him.  She smiled sweetly, “What do you need me to do on this end?”

Kissing her quickly, he grabbed the clothes and headed for the bathroom.  “Thomlinson has arranged for a private jet to fly me down there.  I’ll let you know as soon as I get to Miami.”  He missed the sly smile on her lips as he closed the bathroom door.
 
 

25-November
0500 hours
Miami, FL

Clay couldn’t remember such pain.  It shot through him like a knife.  No.  More like a toothache that started because you bit down on something too cold and cracked your tooth in the process, sending wave after wave of raw feeling through your head.  Only this pain didn’t stop.  Only the paralyzing effect of the drug kept him from screaming continuously.  He wanted to vomit up the nausea that gripped him, but again, he couldn’t lift his own head, let alone work up enough reflex to expel the foul feeling in his gut.  Worst of all was the noise of a million insects buzzing in his ears.  It was so loud it drowned out any other sound.  He had seen Annie standing there, somewhere, in front of him.  Actually, he had seen three Annies and that was bad enough, but the hallucinations had started then and he tried to shut his eyes to them, but he was too weak even for that.  Once they wrestled him into another seat, the bright light shining down into his eyes hurt so bad that he concentrated on moving just enough to get out of its path.  Tears of pain dripped down his cheeks and finally, someone smelling of Chanel, reached up and turned off the sun. 

With the pain in his eyes diminished, he concentrated on his other senses.  He could see a blur of blue and white and tried hard to fit that into what he knew.  He knew that Annie was near, he could smell her perfume, Opium. He could also smell her fear.  He longed to reach out to her, hold on to her and to kill the bastards that had brought them here.  He had never felt so helpless in his life and remembered why he had never gotten close to any other woman.  He damned his loss of control and damned her for making him fall so deeply in love.  The tears came unbidden now, the shame of them weighing his spirit. 

Annie stomped back to her seat. Hector followed her and gripped her arm roughly as he hissed, “Don’t get up again.”  He turned and entered the bathroom.  She stopped at her seat and looked down at Clay, his head was bowed against his chest, but she could see tears dripping onto his tuxedo pants.  She gritted her teeth, vowing to never mention this to him WHEN they got away.  She sat quickly, and gripped the armrests.  She wondered again if there really was poison in his system or just some drug with truly hideous side effects.  She couldn’t take the chance, but she longed to yell out for help from the stewardess, the pilot, anyone.

They landed right on time and because Clay was sick and needed a wheelchair, they were deplaned first.  She pushed him down the ramp and out the door into the terminal.  It was so early there was only a hand full of people around.  She furtively scanned each person but not one of them was someone she was looking for.  <<<Well he did say not to look for him.>>>  She saw a tall security guard directly ahead of her and thought for a brief moment to chance trying to push Webb toward him, but Hector grabbed the chair from her and crowded her to the other side, away from the guard. Tino's whisper was   threatening,  “Remember, Senora, the antidote is with Senore Delgato.” 

While they waited at the gate, Annie tried to tend to Clay as best she could.  She finally convinced Hector to get her a bottle of water and a paper towel from the men’s room.  He had flatly refused her request to allow her to go to the ladies room.  “On the plane Senora Webb.”  She wiped Webb’s face with the cool water, feeling the heat radiate off his skin. 

She hissed up at Hector.  “What did you give him, you bastard?  If he dies before we reach Delgato, it will be your head and you know it.”  Hector shrugged, but she could tell he was beginning to get nervous.  <<<Oh, God.  He isn’t supposed to be reacting this way to whatever they gave him.   Please God, let Martin get here in time.>>>  She sat on the floor, laid her head against Clay’s thigh and whispered,  “Hold on sweetheart.  Help’s coming. I hope.”

Clay saw the blur of auburn, felt the weight of her head against his leg, reveled in the intense smell of her so close.  He put every ounce of effort into raising his hand to touch her, but the only result from the strain seemed to make the cacophony in his brain even louder than it was.  <<<Oh baby, I’m so sorry I got you into this mess.>>>

The Copa flight was on time and again, they were boarded first and once again they sat in first class, Clay next to Tino, Annie next to Hector.  Hope was beginning to slowly seep away and she wished she had tried to reach AJ instead.  The steward had just started to close the door when a loud boisterous call could be heard.  “Tenga el avión.  No salga sin mí.”  A man bounded onto the plane nearly knocking the steward down.  Horned rimmed glasses perched on his nose; he wore a rumpled suit that reeked of alcohol.  A slouch hat was jammed onto his head and grey stringy hair peeked out in several places.  He waved his ticket under the steward’s nose before promptly falling into an empty first class seat just ahead of Annie and promptly began snoring.  The steward looked at the drunkard, then at the ticket, and sighed just loud enough for Annie to hear.  “Well at least he has a first class ticket.”
 

Chicago

AJ went into the large bathroom and changed out of his tux and into the clothes that Mac had meekly brought him.  He was wary of the fact that she hadn’t argued or insisted upon going until he realized that wasn’t her style and sighed.  No.  She would wait until he was gone and then follow him under some pretense.  <<<Damn!>>>  He would have to call Morris and see if the new JAG would assign her a case, maybe in Alaska.  Of course, if he did that, there would be hell to pay when things settled back down.  <<<But at least she'll be safe.>>>
He opened the door and peered out into the large bedroom lit only by one of the bedside lamps.  She was standing at the window staring down upon  an unusually quiet Michigan Avenue.  She was dressed in jeans and a heavy cable knit sweater. Even though the sweater hung down over her hips, he could still make out the bulge of a rather large gun and holster attached to her waistband at the small of her back.  Deadly calm, he asked, “Where’d you get the gun, Sarah?”

She turned and looked him over.  “It’s Clayton’s.  I took it from his safe.”

Clenching his jaw, he ground out.  “You’re not going, Mac.  This is CIA and DEA business.  The Navy has no jurisdiction in this mess.  Don’t make me call Jack Morris.”

She arched her eyebrow, a small half smile quirked her lips.  She walked over to the bed and picked up a heavy leather jacket before walking up to stand before him.  “I had no plans to go with you, AJ.” She ran her free hand up his chest, memorizing the feel of him.”

He steeled himself for the coming battle.  “I don’t want you to drive to the airport with me either, Mac.  I want…No…I need you to stay here.  Keep Harm from trying to help.”  It sounded lame even to him, but it was all he could come up with as the sensation of her so close played on his emotions. 

Stepping away, she shrugged on her coat and walked over to the door.  “Between the local cops, the FBI and Renee, I don’t think there is any chance that Commander Rabb is leaving this hotel.  As for me, I plan on taking a walk down Michigan Avenue and around the block.  Agent Freidman agreed to post a couple of agents at strategic spots.  Hopefully, I can pull some of the ‘watchers’ away from you and maybe even draw one or two of them out so we can get them.”  She turned the knob and started to open the door.  Looking over her shoulder she said softly,   “After all AJ, I was there, remember.  I testified at the trial right after Annie did.  They’re much more likely to come after me than you.” 

She started out the door, but he jerked her back and violently slammed it shut.  The look in his eye would have terrified her at one time, but now she calmly waited for his explosion.   It never came; at least not in the way she had expected.  He pulled her to him and cupping the back of her head in his large hand, stared into her eyes for a long moment before capturing her lips in a bruising, almost brutal kiss.  Releasing her suddenly, she fell back against the bed, panting.  Taking a deep gulp of air, he nodded.  “Very well, COLONEL MacKenzie, grab your stuff, but remember this.  This is my operation.  You WILL follow my orders or so help me, I’ll have you locked up in the nearest brig.” 

She hadn’t heard this tone since her Article 32.  Pushing herself off the bed, she stood at attention and snapped, “Aye-Aye, Sir.”

0700
Medellin, Columbia

He woke with a start.   His mouth tasted of metal and the nausea finally broke free and he began to gag and wretch.  Rough hands grabbed his head forcing his face into a paper sack.  He finally connected the stray bits of data that had darted across his pain-filled consciousness.  An airplane, he was on an airplane.  The angry buzzing in head still blocked any sounds from penetrating.  He tried to focus but his vision was still so blurry that only colors, bright, almost psychedelic in their intensity, registered.  Cool moisture soothed his forehead; the timbre of the buzzing rose and fell.  He fought for control, willing his stomach to calm, but the mingled smells of the body next to him, foul with cigarette and stale body odor; Annie’s familiar scent and the overpowering Chanel from…<<<a stewardess?…>>> combined to reek havoc on his hypersensitive system and a new wave of nausea overtook him.

At the first sounds of Clay’s gagging, Ann was out of her seat and kneeling next to him, ignoring the hissing threats of Hector and the astonished pleas of the stewardess.  Tino had acted quickly, grabbing the airsickness bag and jamming it over Clay’s face.  Annie was frantic, touching his sweat soaked hair, mouthing useless platitudes of comfort.  A soft manicured hand reached over her shoulder offering a cool damp cloth.  Annie ran it over his forehead, noticing that the fever was rising.  It looked for a moment like he was beginning to calm, but a convulsion shook him and the vomiting began again.

Frustration made her bold.  “What did you bastards give him?  This isn’t poison.  No poison I know works this way!”  Her voice had started as a low growl but rose as panic took her. 

Hector pushed the startled stewardess out of the way and grabbed Ann firmly by her upper arm.  He twisted her to face him.  “It is too late, Senora Webb.  We land in ten minutes.  He is waiting for us.  He has many friends in Medellin and you have none.  And he has the antidote.”  He shoved her into the seat and moved to strap her in, but she slapped his hand away and did it herself. 

They landed and the stewardess was suddenly nowhere to be seen.  Giving up all pretense now, Tino hoisted Webb on to his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and carried him off the plane, Hector yanking Annie behind him.  So sure of their standing here in Medellin,  neither of them noticed that the drunk followed them out the door. 

Instead of entering the terminal, Tino pushed open a door to the outside.  A wave of heat struck them and he slowly made his way down the metal steps leading to the tarmac.   A long sleek limousine was parked nearby, a chauffeur standing next to the back passenger door.  As they approached he opened the door.  Ann tried to break free from Hector, to approach the car under her own steam but he held her tighter, causing her to winch in pain.  He shoved her roughly through the open door and she fell across the floor.  She rolled over and stared into the eyes of Theodore Delgato, dressed in tropical worsted, a neat tie knotted at his neck and a Panama hat resting on his knee.  She turned to see Tino lower Clay roughly to the floor of the limousine.  The buttons on his dress shirt popped open, hair at the neck of his T-shirt clearly visible.  She took a steadying breath, “You bastard, you have us here, now give him the antidote for the poison, damn you.”

Delgato threw back his head and laughed.  In the two years she had posed as his granddaughter she couldn’t ever remember hearing him laugh, now tears streamed down his face.  “Poison?  My dear, there never was any poison, only a simple tranquilizer, Zopiclone.  Very few side effects, I’m told.  Oh except for the nausea, hallucinations, and a few other things not worth mentioning.” 

She struggled to her knees and would have attacked him, but the mean little automatic in his hand, pointed at Clay’s prone figure stopped, her.  “Now my dear, shall I take you home?”

Delgato kept the gun trained on Webb.  “Sit back, Pru…Ann.  You must forgive me; it will take some getting used to.  But as I was saying, sit back, the trip is long and very bumpy.  No.  Don’t get up.  Stay down there on the floor.  No.”  He stretched his foot out and shoved her as far away from Clay as room would allow.  “Leave him be.”  Delgato sniffed the air and grimaced.  “Why you would want to go to him while he is smelling like that is beyond me.”

From her position on the floor, all Annie could see out the window was the bright early morning sky.  The roar of a plane was so close overhead  she had to fight the urge to duck, indicated they were still in or near the airport.  The car came to a stop and Annie saw Delgato tense. Even through the sealed glass partition they could hear laughter.  Delgato spared her a tight vicious smile.  “You see Ann, I have friends down here.”

Annie’s eyes never left Clay’s prone form. He was curled up as if in intense pain, spasms and an occasional moan echoed around them.  “Something’s not right, you son-of-a-bitch.  A tranquilizer shouldn’t have these side effects.  Please let me…” She reached out, but Delgado kicked her hand back and cocked the hammer on his gun.  Pulling her knees up to her chest, she leaned back against the door.  Wearily she asked.  “Why didn’t you just kill us?  Why bring us here?  You know my people and his people are already looking for us.  Do you think…?”

Delgato chuckled as if encouraging a particularly bright pupil.  “It doesn’t matter now that you’re here.  If you had asked for help in Chicago or Miami, perhaps it would have been different.   That’s why they told you it was poison and only I had the antidote.  “He threw back his head and laughed.  “They didn’t even have guns or weapons – not Tino or Hector, anyway.  The others will take care of the whore who helped you as well as anyone else that gets in my way.  Who knows? I might even be able to take out the new director of the CIA.”  He rubbed his hands.  “You should have realized who you were double crossing back in Miami.”

Self-loathing overtook her.  She had made the wrong decision.  It would be her fault if they died.  Tightly keeping her emotions from her face, Annie parried, “Relations between the US and Columbia are improving, they will find us.  People, like the stewardess will talk.”

Teddy studied her almost pityingly, “No.  No one talks about La madre del dolor.”
 

Chicago

They left the suite under Rabb’s command though Bud and Harriet Roberts had appeared just as they were closing the door. AJ felt better now that the leveled-headed pair were there to watch over the gung-ho ‘flyboy.’ AJ clapped his hand on Lieutenant Robert’s shoulder.  “Make sure that Mrs. Webb gets down to her suite and see that the FBI escort Mr. and Mrs. Taylor home. And Roberts, make sure that Mr. Rabb gets some sleep.” 

Roberts gravely nodded and led Harriet into the suite.

Even though he thought the gang had left when they took the Webbs, Freidman thought it wouldn’t hurt to assign two agents to escort the Director of the CIA and Colonel MacKenzie to the airport.  AJ and Mac were carrying small cases and had just stepped out of the quiet lobby on the Delaware Street side. The agents had just given the go ahead for them to approach the waiting Range Rover when some instinct born in the jungles of Viet Nam 30 years before caused AJ to spin around.  From the lobby a man and a woman, both dressed as hotel employees stepped out from behind a column, small automatic firearms clutched close to their chests.  “Gun!” AJ yelled, simultaneously reaching for the weapon Freidman had given him and pushing Mac to the pavement.  One agent spun around just in time to be hurled against the bulletproof car as several shots entered his chest.  The other agent got off two rounds, killing the man instantly, before losing his weapon as a bullet tore through his shoulder. AJ and Mac, who had pulled out her gun, both shot the woman just as she was aiming for Mac’s head.

Mac ran over to the mortally wounded agent while AJ helped the other man to his feet. He  was radioing for Freidman and trying to staunch the blood pouring from his wound at the same time. 

The SAC of Chicago barely made it to the scene before the street was crowded with Chicago police.  Keeping his cool, the embarrassed Freidman quickly pushed AJ and Mac into the Range Rover.  “Get the hell out of here.  I’ll handle it from this end.”  Looking back at his dead agent, he snarled,  “Nail the bastards.”

It had been ages since he had driven himself to O’Hare, but AJ made the Kennedy Expressway with little trouble and traffic was light so early in the morning.  All the way, Mac sat staring out the windshield.  Finally, as they approached the terminal AJ looked over at her. “Mac?  Sarah?  Are you okay?”

She turned her head toward him and he could see her eyes were bright with unshed tears.  She managed a weak, “I’m fine,” before returning to stare out the window. 

Softly he confessed, “Sarah, I’m sorry.  You were right.  This isn’t just about Clay and Annie.  We’ll find them.  Together.”

Sarah turned again, this time her face was set in a hard line.  “Damn straight we will!”

The plane had been ready and waiting.  Another FBI agent rushed them through customs and as they boarded, shoved a fist full of papers into AJ’s hand. He pointed out the seats and flipped on the TV before going upfront to sit with the pilot.

The plane was barely  airborne when AJ’s cell phone rang.  “Chegwidden,” he growled out, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. 

Sarah, finely succumbing to the excitement and fear, had slumped, exhausted, down into one of the deep comfortable seats.  She shook her head as he briskly talked to one of his deputy directors back in Washington, filling him in on the situation.  <<<How the hell does he do it?>>> she wondered as she vaguely listened in to first one call,  then call after call.  She didn’t perk up until she heard a familiar name.

“We’re fine Rabb, does Freidman have any ID’s on the shooters?  Yeah, well no surprise there, I guess.  Cassidy gave me a brief report from the Miami end. Evidently, Annie managed to use Clay’s cell and contacted her mentor down there.  Funny thing, he used to work for the Company.  Cassidy’s digging up whatever he can on this guy.  He’s working for DEA now and I hear that Dick Todd is on his way down there. Hopefully he can fill me in on this mysterious contact.  Rabb, listen, get some sleep, damn it…Yeah, if I can.” 

AJ ended the call and took a moment to gaze upon Mac.  He wondered bitterly when they were ever going to get more than a few stolen moments to be together.  He was suddenly very glad she had brow beat him into taking her with him.  There was little doubt she could hold her own in a firefight, and this way, he could keep an eye on her.

He tried to look through the communiqués, but the flickering images on the TV screen captured his attention.  Using the built-in remote, he turned up the volume just loud enough to hear the newscaster breathlessly report on the early morning assault on two FBI agents outside the Four Seasons Hotel.  AJ fell asleep as a reporter speculated that the shoot-out was probably gang related.

They landed in Miami only long enough to take on more fuel and allow several very tired looking men board at a quiet end of the field.  The sun was shining in just right so that it woke Sarah with a start.  She stood in time to be introduced to the Director of the DEA, a tall burly Texan with a no-nonsense demeanor. 

Richard Todd nodded to Sarah and shook AJ’s hand firmly.  “When the hell is this mess going to end, AJ?  I thought with the sentencing of Ortiz, we were done with it.”

AJ shrugged.  “Well, I can attest to the fact that Delgato is out to exact revenge on everyone involved.  You hear what happened in Chicago right before we left?”

A tall good-looking man stepped around Todd and waited for AJ to acknowledge him.  AJ growled, “Well Mr. Frawley, what does the anti-terrorist department of the FBI have on this situation?”

Jack Frawley shook his head sadly.  “Hell, sir.  I’m here for the same reason you all are.  I was down here meeting with a couple of your guys when some fruitcake pulled a gun on the three of us.  He kept shouting he only wanted ‘the bastard that helped bring down Ortiz.’  Shit, he must have been high as a kite, the three of us sent him to hell.”  A tired frown dragged down his magazine-model features and he looked over at Todd.  “Olsen wasn’t so lucky.”

Mac gasped.  She remembered the impossibly young agent who had brazenly brought the news that Ortiz’s boat, Colombian and US warehouses all fell at the same time, effectively destroying the drug dealing, wanna-be terrorist.  She gulped and asked.  “How?”

Frawley shook his head, but Todd angrily spit out.  “Shot him in the back when he was coming back from dinner with his girlfriend.  I want those bastards.”

AJ nodded.  “Well then, what are we going to do?  What’s our intel?  Who’s this mystery man that Ann Taylor called, presumably from the plane?  Is it straight or just a ruse to get more of us down there?”

Todd looked behind him and a tired looking man stepped forward to be introduced.  “AJ, this is Bill Simmons.  He’s been with the DEA for over 20 years.  He knows Marty Castillo better than any of us.” 

25 November
1500 Hours
Somewhere between Medellin and the Coast

Ann realized she was thirsty.  Wearily she considered her options and came to the conclusion they really had nothing to lose.  She thought Ortiz’s mother had died shortly before Ann’s undercover assignment in Miami.  <<<Well I guess it’s kinda hard to kill Satan.>>>  She sighed, looked at Delgato, the gun still clutched in his hand, though now he only threatened her with it if she actually moved.

Glaring at him she demanded.  “I’m thirsty and he’s,” nodding toward Clay, “going to dehydrate, if he isn’t already.”  She waited for the sneering refusal, planning her counter argument.  But, he just sat there a moment studying her.  He reached down and viciously pinched the skin of Clay’s cheek, checking with almost clinical intensity the way the skin stayed white and for how long.

Webb jerked at the pain and was suddenly alert to the fact that his muscle control was returning.  The pain in his cheek felt good, clean compared to the awful nausea and the almost unbearable buzzing in his head.  He tried flexing his toes and thought perhaps that they had.  He wriggled his fingers and felt carpet beneath them.  Next he opened his eyes, but quickly shut them again; the filtered sun was still too bright and evidently he was still hallucinating.  <<<Delgato’s still in jail.  Isn’t he?>>> Cracking one eye open again he peered up into the cruel, grinning visage.  He forced his other eye open, praying the action would present him with anything else, perhaps a large white rabbit.  He groaned and Delgato’s smile got wider.  Then Delgato’s lips began to move and Clay strained to hear him above the angry noise in his head.  He tried to move his head to shake away the fuzziness, but that was a huge mistake.  The lightening bolt of searing white pain produced a dry, raspy moan.

Cool water dripped across his lips and he opened his eyes to find Ann staring down at him.  Pain and fear in her eyes.  He tried to swallow the cooling liquid, but the first attempts just made his cheek and neck wet, as the water dribbled out of his mouth.  He felt her work her bent knees under his back, pushing him up.  He grimaced in pain but concentrated on the job at hand.  Finally, he got a bit down his throat, and then more.  His head still hurt like a heated brand was wedged there but his eyesight continued to clear.  He flexed his biceps and felt the sharp tingling of feeling shoot down his arms to his fingers.  Finally, Annie had him sitting up, cradling him against her chest.  He could feel the anxiety in her short breaths.  Moving his mouth away from the water bottle, he concentrated on steadying himself, trying to sit up all the way.  Her arm reached around him and held him in place.  He reveled in her embrace and stopped trying to fight her.  He wrinkled up his nose at the foul smell of stale vomit that clung to his clothes and a deep shuddering sigh shook his frame. 

Annie had grabbed the bottle of water from the small cooler recessed in one of the wide armrests next to Delgato.  He allowed her to help Clay up and when she felt him struggle to rise further, she kept him close to her.

“Such a touching scene, my dear.   I still don’t know how you can stand to be that close to him.”  Delgato stared out the window and then touched a button on the armrest.  In Spanish, he asked Hector where they were.  He listened for a moment, then asked something that Annie thought she must have misunderstood, but a little later she felt the car slow and then turn into a rougher road. She could hear the gravel crunch beneath the tires, but not for very long. 

The car stopped and Ann looked up as the door was flung open.  Hector reached in and pulled Clay out of her arms.  She struggled to get up, but her legs had fallen asleep from cramped position she had worked herself into.  Delgato grabbed her by the hair, forcing the issue.  She stumbled from the car and leaned against it, the sun now halfway down in the west.  She squinted, trying to get her bearings.  The mountain foothills were beginning to give way to tropical patches of forest.  She cupped her hand over her eye to shade it from the sun and turned to Delgato.  “Where are we?”

Delgato smiled, “At the car wash my dear.”

Ann refocused, taking in the small cinder block enclosure standing next to a rundown wooden station, a single pump in front of it.  She jerked around when Delgato ordered Tino, “Strip him.  Tie him to the bar there and hose him down.  I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

“No!”  She started forward as Tino jerked Clay’s soiled tuxedo jacket from his arms.  Hector grabbed her, then threw her to the ground at Delgato’s feet.  She felt the gun caress her cheek.  She wanted to close her eyes, but she met Clay’s panicked ones and nodded that she was okay. 

Clay had no idea what was going on as the tall burly man pulled him from the car.  He fell to the rocky surface and tried to stand, but he was still weak and his legs were still asleep.  He opened and closed his eyes several times and found that he could finally focus.  Looking around, he saw Annie start toward him just as the man he had identified as his chief tormentor roughly grabbed his tuxedo jacket and ripped it off him.  When the other goon grabbed her and pushed her toward Delgato’s feet he feared not only for her, but for their baby as well.  She looked up at him and signaled that she was fine just as his shirt and Tee shirt were jerked up over his head.  The man pushed him toward a concrete block building and understanding finally dawned, he straightened and turned.  Glaring at his captors, he stumbled into the building with as much dignity that remained to him.
 
 

1530 Hours
Maria Cordova International Airport
Medellin, Columbia
 

When the plane landed in Medellin, Todd and Frawley stepped off  and were met by waiting Colombian and US Embassy officials and led to a waiting limo.  The plane taxied to a small hanger at the end of the field where three US Marines, dressed in camouflage fatigues complete with caps and cleaning equipment, boarded.  Some twenty minutes later, three Marines, the pilot and a civilian left the plane, which had been powered down.  After securing the doors, the pilot and civilian hitched a ride back to the terminal on the back of the Marines’ jeep. 

The jeep proceeded to a small warehouse district northwest of the airport where it entered a large dock door only to back out a few minutes later, now loaded with several large boxes in back.  If anyone had been watching, they probably didn’t notice the slight variation in the relative size of each group of Marines.  Certainly no one noticed the two men with baseball caps driving the old, rusted Lincoln Continental as it left the other end of the block-long building. 

After driving for what seemed like an eternity, a small muffled voice from the back of the car whined, “Can I get up now?”

AJ looked over at Bill Simmons who shrugged.  “I think we got clean away.  Let her get up.”

Mac’s bandana covered her head. She peered over the back of the seat, sniffed and said with disdain.  “We gonna make it out of town in this thing?”

Simmons grunted.  “Well, from what the boys back at the base told me, it may not look pretty, but it packs a wallop when you need it.”

Mac snorted, “Base?  You mean that run down…”

Bill Simmons grinned at her through the mirror before looking over at AJ.  “Well we really didn’t have time for the grand tour, though I guess since the head honcho here stopped by, we should have taken a moment.  We share that ‘facility’ with you guys you know.”

AJ nodded wearily.  “Yeah, next time.  How far are we going to meet this Castillo?” 

“Probably two, two and a half hours.  It depends on what kind of conditions we meet on the road.”

AJ studied the DEA agent.  “What, guerrillas?”

Simmons’ hatchet face broke into a wide grin.  “Nah, sheep.”  Loosing the grin he added, “look, get some sleep while you can.  Hopefully, all the herds will be back in their pens by the time we pass through the little villages.”

AJ leaned back and stared out into the rolling countryside, the landscape tropical where it hadn’t been slashed back for the small suburbs of Medellin. AJ tried to stay awake, but found himself nodding off.

Mac sat back and gazed out at the landscape. Less than an hour out from the airport they entered the tropical lushness of the Amazon valley. Slash and burn practices had left whole tracts barren of everything but scrub grass  being grazed upon by herds of cows and sheep. 

She dozed off and on during the flight down from Miami.  Most of the conversation between Todd, Frawley and AJ had been on how to handle the local authorities.  Mac was only interested in what they were going to do to get Ann and Clay away from their captors and they couldn’t plan that until they met with the mysterious Martin Castillo.  Simmons had given them a quick rundown on the freelance DEA/CIA ‘consultant.’ 

“Marty started out with the CIA in ‘Nam.  He was stationed in the Golden Triangle there.  Got married to a native and then in a ‘local’ dispute got his house blown up.  He thought she was killed and she thought the same of him.  Didn’t find each other for nearly fifteen years, but by that time she was remarried to somebody else.  By that time, he had gotten tired of the CIA crap, no offense AJ, left the agency, kicked around for a couple of years before signing on with Miami PD.  His last assignment there was a lieutenant in vice, but some political bullshit 
went down and he left.  Hooked up with his wife a couple months later – her old man had gotten killed somehow, pretty vague.  Anyway Marty and she set up house down on the gulf coast and he occasionally comes out of ‘retirement’ to help with something particularly ugly.”  Simmons headed for the john at the back of the small plane but added cryptically,  “Hell, AJ you’ve met him, you know.” 

Simmons had refused to add anything else.  “Meet him.  He’s a little intense, but this business will do that to you.”  Now they were speeding through the twilight to meet with the man that Annie had called for help.

The shack was off a small cutout into the jungle.  Standing on stilts, a colorful woven blanket served as the only door.  Simmons parked the car over to the side and checked the clip in his gun.  AJ slowly opened his door and stepped out into the oppressive humidity; even in the dwindling twilight the heat steamed around them.  Constantly scanning the area, they moved carefully toward the hut.  AJ motioned Simmons to take the back, but before the DEA agent moved, a low deadly voice called out softly, “That’s a real good way to get yourself killed Simmons.”  AJ spun around to face a bedraggled looking tramp, grey hair pulled back into a messy pigtail, a bushy grey mustache hid his upper and part of his lower lip. 

Simmons shook his head and holstered his gun.  “Well, Marty you did it again.  I never can get the drop on you, buddy.”

Keeping his gun trained on AJ, Martin Castillo moved toward the pair, sizing up the supposed new Director of the CIA.  He recognized the easy stance of some one who had been in the jungle before; the alien cries of the tropical birds didn’t distract him at all.  “If you two are here to help me get Taylor and Webb away from Casa en el acantilado, then you’re going to have to do better than this.”

“Well, that’s why they brought a Marine with them.  You wanna point that gun somewhere else?” 

Castillo lowered his weapon, but didn’t’ turn around until Mac was standing just to his left.  He appraised her coolly before nodding.  “You three might work after all.”

Leading them up the sturdy 3-rung ladder that brought them to the entryway, Castillo  held the blanket back for them.  When Mac made to move to stand guard, he shook his head.  “Don’t bother, Ponciano will let us know if anyone approaches.  At Mac’s unbelieving look, a small ghost of a smile flashed across his face.   “You didn’t think I would turn my back on the road with out backup do you?”

Mac’s snort was most unladylike but she moved into the dark room and leaned against the back wall, her gun held easily at her side.  AJ stood across from her 
and let his eyes adjust to the dim light as Castillo lit two propane lamps.  He studied the back wall of the hut then let his gaze fall to the floor before looking back up at Castillo.  “How deep is the hidden room?”

Castillo’s expression gave nothing away but he admitted, “just three feet, but it’s enough.”  He walked over and sat at the small table and glanced up at Simmons.  “You bring the stuff I asked for?”

Simmons moved toward the door.  “Yeah, It’s in the car.”

After Simmons left, Castillo gestured for AJ and Mac to sit.  AJ took one of the small straight back chairs, turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms across the low back.  Mac shook her head.  “I’m fine, I’ve been sitting forever.”

They waited silently until Simmons returned with a small packet.  Taking out and opening a map, Castillo began tracing their trek from Medellin down the mountains and through the jungle.  Taking a pencil, he circled a small dot on the map.  “I followed them here.  They stopped for about thirty minutes.”

AJ stared at the tiny dot.  “Why’d they stop?”

Castillo took a deep breath and ran his hand over his mustache.  Mac, who had kept glancing from the door to the trio at the table, looked harder at the ex-CIA agent.  She holstered her weapon and approached the table.  Reaching down, she took Castillo’s hand in hers and looked at it carefully before running her finger along the side of his mustache.  Grinning, she showed her powder-coated fingertip.  “You probably shouldn’t do that.” 

Martin Castillo bowed his head in acknowledgement.  “Touché, Miss?”

“Colonel.  Colonel Sarah MacKenzie,” she responded gravely.  “But in a pinch, Mac will do.”

Nodding, Castillo reached up and pulled off the wig exposing neatly trimmed black hair flecked with gray.  Taking a large bandanna from his pocket, he scrubbed at his upper lip causing a small white cloud to rise.  “I didn’t have time to do a thorough dye job. I barely made it to the airport in time.”

“How did you manage to follow them?” AJ demanded.

“I called a contact in Medellin from the bathroom on the plane.  He found out the gate number they would bring the plane once it landed.  He left a motorcycle there for me.  I managed to get ahead of them out of the airport.  Then I joined the flow of traffic until they reached the more remote areas.  Fortunately, I could hang back and still keep an eye on them.  Besides, I figured if Ann was right and it was Delgato that snatched them, then he would be heading for only one place.”

AJ stifled a yawn.  “The Casa en el acantilado you mentioned before.”

“Yeah.  Not very original since it’s on the coast and it overlooks the ocean.  Not really much of a cliff.” 

AJ jabbed the spot on the map.  “Then why’d they stop here?”

Locking his eyes on AJ’s, Castillo spit out, “From what I could see, they stripped Webb, tried him to something in the building and then hosed him down.  I guess Delgato’s stomach is getting weaker in his old age.  Of course, Webb was pretty sick on the plane.”  He finally broke eye contact with the Head of the CIA and glanced up at the Marine Colonel.  Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but her eyes met his without hesitation and her stance never showed any outward sign of emotion.  <<<She might handle herself okay.>>>

Simmons quietly asked.  “You want to take a guess at what drug they gave him?”

Castillo shook his head.  “When he started to get really sick, Ann said something to one of the men along the lines ‘no poison acts this way.’”

AJ thought back to the letter that Annie had past to Renee.  “Well that would make sense.  Threaten her that they gave him poison and the only antidote was here in Colombia.”

Mac added.  “They couldn’t have gotten any guns on the plane, that’s for sure.”

Castillo cut in.  “I thought Delgato was in jail waiting trial in Miami.”

AJ sighed.  “I did too.  Seems a smart lawyer got him ‘compassionate bail’ based on the totally falsified claims that he needed medical treatment.  Idiot, or crooked, judge thought that just because he surrendered his passport, he couldn’t get out of the country.  Hell, nobody looked at my passport.” 

Suddenly he looked in horror at Mac who shook her head gravely.  “I was going to Chicago, remember.  You were the one coming in from out of the country.”

His glare promised further discussion later but he turned his attention back to Castillo and growled, “What’s the game plan?”

Marty stood up and went to the false wall.  Pushing a knot in the pine panel, it swung open.  He stepped into the long narrow room and returned with a large rolled sheet of paper.  Spreading it out on the table, he explained.  “I made this last year when I thought I was going to have to go in and grab Ortiz.”  He sat back down to study the layout of a large hacienda.  “Turns out a better plan came up.”

AJ thought back over the last year.  “The stingers?”  Peering at Castillo, his head slightly cocked, a vague notice started to take root.  “You were there?”

Before Castillo could answer he reached for his belt and pulled out his phone.  Mac could just make out the faint buzz of the silent vibrate option.  “Si?”  They sat and watched him as he listened intently; the only change in expression was a deep frown tugging at his mouth.  Finally, he ended the conversation with a subdued, “Sí, estaré allí, Gracias. Mañana.”  He flipped the cover and sat back. 

Simmons asked.  “Where will you be tomorrow?”

Leaning forward, Castillo tapped the layout on the table.  “Right here.”
 

25 November
1800 Hours
A small Village in Southwestern Colombia

She had finally managed to get Delgato to let her go to him.  Clay hung there from the rigid water pipe, his hands bound tightly around the crosspiece.  She reached up to gently touch his face.  He jerked away from the touch until he opened his eyes and saw her there with tears streaming down her face.  Managing a weak grin, he straightened up and croaked out.  “Well that was fun.”

“Oh Clay,” she sniffled.  She started to say something else but the look of intense concentration on his face stopped her.  He tentatively shook his head back and forth.  Then he leaned his head forward and back, then from side to side as far as it would go.  He mouthed something, the barest whisper leaving his lips. 

She moved closer her ears inches from his lips.  This time his voice was stronger, the pain evident now,  “Annie, I can’t hear anything.  What did they give me?”

Ann touched his cheek and mouthed ‘tranquilizer’, but wasn’t sure if he understood her or not.  The carrying case hit the ground at their feet and she looked at Hector standing there with an sly grin on his face. An old towel that had obviously been used for cleanup of the car hung over his shoulder.  “Boss says to get him dried off and put the clothes on that you brought.”  Leering down the length of Webb’s naked body, he licked his lips suggestively.  “I’ll help.”

“Get away cabrón. I’ll do it.”  She grabbed the soiled towel from red-faced Hector and gently wiped Clay down, letting his face dry in the humid air.  She reached down and opened the case and pulled out his clothes. 

With his arms tied overhead, it was fairly easy to get his underwear and slacks on.  Deciding to tackle the shoes before asking that he be cut down, she knelt down, but Hector stepped up and stopped her.  “He don’ need no shoes.”  Reaching up with evil looking knife, he caressed the point along Webb’s cheek, up his arm to the knot.  Ann saw Clay lock his knees and instinct told her not to try and help him, though every fiber in her body longed to hold him and comfort him.  By leaning against the wall, he managed to stay standing after his arms were free, lowering them slowly to let the blood return to his fingertips.  She reached down and handed him the cotton sweater she had hastily grabbed in her flight from their suite.  Shrugging it on, he only swayed once.  As his head cleared the neck opening, his eyes sought hers out and a weak smile appeared for a second. 

Hector kicked the case away, grabbed Webb roughly by the arm, and led him across the graveled parking lot to the car. 

Running his fingers through his tangled hair, Clay sat across from Delgato, willing the bastard to try and make him crouch on the floor again.  He watched intently as Delgato quietly appraised him.  His mouth began to move and Clay strained to make some sense of the movements.  <<<Damn, Foster was so good at reading lips, said it was a damn snap.>>> Not knowing any reason to keep his secret Webb ground out.  “Forget it Delgato.  I don’t know what you gave me but whatever it was, it left me deaf.  I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”  Ann poked her head inside the car in time to hear the last of his bitter shout.  She wondered if he had meant to speak that loud or just couldn’t gauge the level of his own voice. 

Climbing in, she settled beside him on the seat.  Delgato looked between the two of them.  “Well Mr. Webb, if you really can’t hear me, then you won’t get upset when I tell you want we have in store for your lovely wife here.”  He noticed that the spy didn’t even blink and decided to push the envelope a little further.  “Dona Ortiz has invited some old friends of ours to the hacienda.  Perhaps you remember them from Miami. Guzman, Kirilov and Costas, I know have been invited, as well as Al-Faluni, though I suspect that he will want to bid on your body and not hers.”  He waited quietly waiting for a reaction, but the only one he got was from Ann who tensed at the names.  Webb tore his glare from Delgato and studied his wife.  Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it and pulled her next to him draping his arm around her shoulder.

Clay couldn’t make out more than the occasional word that Ortiz was mouthing.  He thought he made out ‘friends, Miami and Faluni’ but he couldn’t be sure and he was in no mood to speculate.  It had taken what strength he had left to sit here across from Delgato, defying him in the little way he could.  He had to figure out a way to get them out of this mess.  When he felt Annie stiffen next to him during Delgato’s speech he reached out and clasped her hand.  Now, as she lay across his chest clutching him, he marveled at the strength of the woman he had asked to marry him.  He had noted the look of resolve in her face as she dressed him.  There was no pity there, only determination that they were in this together and a ‘by God, don’t even think about telling me to make a run for it mister’ look in her eyes.

Annie could only imagine the torture that Delgato and Ortiz’s mother had planned for them.  The rumors of La madre del dolor – The Mother of Pain – had circulated about the same time that Ortiz had so spectacularly risen to power in Miami by having his mentor assassinated.  The official dossier Ann had read before going undercover revealed that Matilda Ortiz brought her only son to Miami at a very young age. She had stayed only long enough to ‘apprentice’ him to a local crime lord eager to form an alliance with one of Medellin’s cocaine families. 

It was said she was the most ruthless of all the cocaine lords.  In a country where women were usually either mothers or whores, her rise to power was stellar.  The enemies she made quickly died in violent, vicious ways; their bodies with the evidence of their long slow demise clearly visible. They were always left at the doorstep of the next-soon-to-be-foe.  Reports from US agents stationed in Colombia and local police officials confirmed several attempts on her life, but her followers had an almost religious zeal in their protection of her.  Several bodyguards had died stopping bullets and knives meant for the recluse.  ‘The House on the Cliff’ was her hideaway overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  Shunning the mountain haciendas near the coca fields preferred by her rivals, she lived hundreds of miles from her fields, allowing the rest of the family to manage the crop.  Evidently, her brothers had realized early on that their fortunes lay at the feet of their only sister.  Annie had read of the lewd rumors of incest and wild family orgies and chalked it off to rival jealousy and male inability to recognize that women could get where they wanted without resorting to granting sexual favors.  From the evil look on Delgato’s face though, she wasn’t so sure now. 

Keeping her eyes on Delgato, she allowed her head to fall to Clay’s lap.  She felt her husband’s hand gently rest in her hair, softly flexing his fingers through the messy, tangled strands.  Her last conscious thought was, <<<I’ll only close my eyes for a moment.>>>

Clay kept his hand on Ann’s head as he felt her relax into a light doze.  He turned his head to look out the window at the bleared darkness, the dim accent lights just bright enough to reflect back the interior of the car.  Webb tried to figure out a way to get them away.  He knew she would follow his lead, but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to pull it off.  Delgato still had the small but deadly P90 resting on his lap.  Clay pondered his chances, not hearing Delgato’s quiet chuckle.  “Go on and try, Mr. Webb.” 

Keeping his head level Clay glanced down at the handle on the door then moved his eyes to study Delgato’s reflection in the mirror.  He could just make out the growing sneer on the bastard’s face.  Taking a deep cleansing breath he turned to face the crime boss and keeping his voice as level and as neutral as he could, asked.  “Could I have another drink of water…please?”

Aiming the gun, not at Webb but at Annie, Delgato reached over and pulled the bottle from the cup holder next to him.  “Be my guest, it’s the least I can do, considering.”

Drinking deeply, Clay kept his eyes on Delgato.  He placed the bottle in the cup holder near him and then laid his head back against the comfortable seat back and closed his eyes.

The sharp turn and bump caused Ann to sit up and Clay to jerk awake.  <<Damn it, I wanted to stay awake>>> Clay grabbed the armrest and Ann grabbed his arm and they were jostled as the car went over a steep rocky incline.  Delgato merely braced his back, his body remembering each bump and hole of this route up to hell.

After one last sharp turn the car stopped and Webb felt the engine cut.  Ann sat straight, keeping her hand in Clay’s and her eyes boring into Delgato’s.  The door was opened and before the rough hands could touch him, Webb rose to leave the car under his own power.  Hector had other ideas and grabbed the spy’s arm anyway, flinging him from the car.  Clay managed to stay upright, though the graveled surface cut his feet.  Ann ran to his side but refrained from touching him.  She realized that he must be feeling deep frustration at their situation and at his inability to hear, so she stood next to him letting him know he could grab her arm if he needed the support, but made no overt move to help him.

They stood outside a high stone wall with a metal door set firmly in place in the center.  Lights so bright that night was banished, shown down from high poles. The glitter of broken glass embedded at the top of the wall sparkled, warning would-be intruders not to bother.  The yelp of several dogs could be heard just beyond the barrier.  They waited until the door swung open and Webb was reminded of the scene in the last Star Wars movie when the two robots entered Jabba the Hut’s castle.  He wondered if he would get a chance to confess his passion for the Trilogy to Ann or if that would be one more secret that would die with them here.

They entered the courtyard.  Outside no vegetation grew within 10 feet of the tall stone wall, here lush greenery flourished.  They followed a stone path, guarded by no less than three men with snarling Doberman Pinchers on thick leather leashes, with quick release collars.  With each step, Clay’s hope of escape plummeted.  Ann wondered if Castillo would be able to get help here in time. Fear for her new husband and her baby began to sneak through cracks in the thick wall of determination she had hastily erected around her heart.

Clay let his eyes roam through the garden, the buzzing in his head almost fit here, adding the right background noise to the fireflies flitting.  He noticed several tropical birds on perches scattered through the greenery; their heads nestled beneath their wings in sleep.  He had no idea how long they had been asleep.  He glanced up and saw the moon high overhead.  They finally reached the front of the house where six brightly-lit windows and a large, open double door, greeted them.  A short fat lump huddled in the doorway. The light from inside the house and the large overhang shielded it from light and cast the creature into shadow.  The evil emanating off of it sent shudders through both of  the Webbs. 

Two automatic rifle-wielding guards stepped between the lump and the newcomers.  A thin cackling voice greeted them.  “Ah, Mr. & Mrs. Webb, welcome to hell.”  Matilda Ortiz turned to Hector and insisted, “Put them in the special quest room.  Come Theodore, we have much to discuss about tomorrow, when our guests will be joining us. Oh, Hector, make sure that the Webbs have a little something to eat and drink, we don’t want them passing out and missing the fun tomorrow.”

Hector and Tino led Clay and Ann down a long path away from the main house.  They came to a sturdy concrete block building and Hector reached up and pulled a key off of a nail pounded into the door frame.  As the goon opened the heavy door, Clay noticed that it had to be at least an inch thick.  Dreading what they would find, they looked at each other before entering the room.  Hector reached in and flicked on a light switch.  “I’ll be back in a little while with food and water. Don’t think about trying to overpower me, I’ll have several guards with me.”  He closed the door and let them adjust to the odd room they were in.

There were several sets of manacles attached to one wall.  A tall chair secured to the floor at one corner, reminiscent of an electric chair, complete with hand and leg cuffs caught their attention next.  A sturdy wood cabinet with closely spaced bars in the door allowed them to see into the illuminated interior where dozens of instruments of torture were neatly displayed.  A dripping water faucet set in the wall and a locked electrical box completed the torture chamber.  Webb turned, his hands on his hips, as he surveyed the other half of the room.  “Holy shit, would you look at this place?”  The other half of the room was decked out like a cozy vacation cabin, a huge sleigh bed, with a large thick mattress was pushed against the opposite wall.  A couch, facing the torture chamber half of the room, was placed in front of the bed and a large coffee table with several magazines, paper and pens was positioned in front of it.  “God damn diabolical.  Sleep, eat, relax and contemplate tomorrow’s torture.”

Clay felt Ann’s hand convulse around his forearm.  He turned in time to take her, sobbing, into his arms.  He hugged her tightly, kissing her hair, then her eyes until he finally reached her lips.  The kiss was fervent and life-affirming.

Ann heard the door rattle and gently pushed him away.  She turned, wiping her eyes, and waited while Tino placed a large covered tray on the coffee table, scattering the pens to the floor.

Tino left them and together, they studied their dinner tray with trepidation.  Steeling herself, Ann lifted the tray, expecting anything from a dead rat to a pile of manure.  Instead they were faced with several pieces of fresh fruit, bread and two bottles of water.  A covered bowl revealed fresh churned butter, and a flimsy wooden sliver. It was too small to do anything with except spread the butter on the bread which was the only other item on the tray. 

Sitting down on the sofa they reached for the fruit and quickly finished the only food they had eaten since the night before.  After taking several long drags on the water bottle, Clay stood and began to exam their prison.  He pointed out a camera lens recessed behind a heavy cage.  “I guess someone must have objected to the souvenir video.”  He turned at her touch, expecting more tears.  Instead he saw dry eyes and concern.  He reached up and ran his thumb over a small bruise on her cheek. 

Leading her back to the sofa he sat her down.  Reaching down for a pen from the floor he handed it too her.  “Now tell me everything that happened.” 

Pulling out one of the tablets, Ann put the pen to her lower lip for a second and then quickly wrote about the busboy giving her the note, about the maid in the bathroom and her flight from the hotel.  She wrote how scared she was because they had told her that he had been poisoned.

Clay started to say something, but, mindful of the listening devices that were probably scattered about, he took the pad and wrote, “A?”  She chewed on her lower lip then took the pad back and quickly wrote how she had given the note to Renee and how she had called a friend in Miami for help.  She handed  the pad back and watched his brow furrow before he realized that she had written it out in Dutch.  The first smile she had seen since they had been kidnapped, creased his face.  He reread the paper then folded it and tore it in half. 

As he started to tear it again the door burst open and Tino, gun in hand, demanded.  “Give me the paper, Senore Webb.”  Clay had reacted to Ann’s startled jump so he was looking at the henchman, but he continued to tear the paper until Tino pointed the gun at Ann.  Clay shrugged and held out the bits toward Tino.  “I will shoot her if you drop the papers, senore.”  Tino muttered just as Clay opened his hand and let the papers shower to the floor. 

Tino cursed angrily and drew back the hammer of the gun.  Clay stood and jerked Ann behind him and Tino shifted his aim to Clay’s kneecap.  Bracing himself for the pain, Clay felt Annie clutch his arm.

Annie wanted to scream at Tino, but a crackling noise from overhead stopped them both. “Espera!” The speaker spewed forth rapid orders in Spanish and Tino lowered his gun.  The door opened again and another guard, complete with automatic rifle came in and trained the gun on Webb while Tino bent down and picked up each scrap of paper before they both left the room.  When Webb looked at her in surprise, Ann pointed to the grill in the ceiling and pointed to her ear.  “Well Mrs. Webb, it appears that your husband really can’t hear.  Either that or he is playing a dangerous game with me.  I can play too, Mrs. Webb.”  The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. 

Panic seized him, now blind as well as deaf, he had to force himself to remain calm.  He waited for his eyes to adjust, but there was no light here at all in the windowless, tightly sealed room.  Taking a deep breath, keeping all fear from his voice he sighed resignedly.   “Let’s see if we can make it to the bed without killing ourselves.  Look at the bright side babe, we don’t have to see Madam Ortiz’s house ‘o horrors tonight.”  He waited but his goading didn’t work and they had to contend with feeling their way to the bed.  Annie toed off her shoes, but left the rest of her clothes on before reaching up to pull down the covers.  Clay felt what she was doing and stopped her.  “Let’s just lay on top, okay?  It’s warm and God only knows when the last time was that these sheets were changed.”  Realizing the ramifications of that statement, an intense shudder ran through Annie body.  “Hey, sweetheart, I’m sorry.  It’s probably fine, but let’s not take any chances, okay?”  Ann found his hand and brought it up to her cheek.  She nodded and then climbed up onto the bed.  Clay followed her and stretching out, pulled her over to lie across his chest.  Kissing the top of her head, his arms wrapped protectively around her, he vowed to stay awake. The last twenty-four hours had been too much for both of them and soon, the only sound the listeners heard was the steady, even breathing of deep sleep.
 

Continue to Part II