As the afternoon wore on, Cassie became exceedingly anxious. In addition to their suspect, she had seen three additional men on the property. Like their suspect, two of them were well built while the third was of average height and of lean build.

“I’ll bet he’s the brains of the outfit,” she had commented to her fellow agent.

She exited the vehicle once again, returning to her hiding place amongst a grove of trees. Her patience was wearing thin, but she knew she had to wait for reinforcements. Scanning the area with her binoculars, Cassie kept watch, waiting for the time to rescue her Blue Eyes.

Steve paced the cell, anxiously waiting for nightfall. He decided to escape, knowing he must take the risk if he wants to see Sam again. Doing nothing would assure him of a death; quick or slow he wasn’t sure.

Footsteps announced his host and entourage. The man entered the room, looking downcast. “I hear you haven’t touched your food today. Do you think I would poison you now?”

“Poison, no, drug, yes,” Steve said, stopping in front of the man. “I don’t like losing control of myself.”

The man smiled. “Well, I do have a tranquilizer gun available for tomorrow’s travels. I can’t afford to have you escape.” With ten million dollars riding on Steve’s safe delivery, Robertson wasn’t about to let his prize slip through his fingers.

“What? You’re not going to give me a sporting chance?” Steve said, looking over the guards. “I mean, I’d at least like to go down fighting. I’m sure they could take me.”

“Sorry, Colonel, but the buyers do not want damaged merchandise. No, one way or another, you’ll be drugged,” Robertson said.

Steve walked away, resuming his pacing. “It will be a pleasure to break your neck when I get a hold of you,” he said, his tone as cold as ice.

Robertson and the guards laughed. “Thank you, Colonel,” Robertson said; “I haven’t had a good laugh in days.”

‘The joke is on you,’ Steve thought to himself.

Robertson turned and left, with Heckle and Jeckle following close behind, leaving Chip and Dale to their shift. It will be several hours before one of them decides to leave for the night.

‘I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer,” Steve thought. He finally lowered himself onto the bed, scooting back so he could lean against the cold wall.

Oscar slammed the file folder shut, furious that no one had picked up the obvious within the employee’s folder.

Punching the button on the intercom, he barked “Callahan. Get a hold of Agent Zuercher and his men. Have them meet me down at the motor pool.”

Oscar stormed out of the office, passing a scrambling Callahan who was juggling two phones at once. As he strode down the hall, everyone hugged the walls, allowing their boss a wide berth since he looked like he’d run over anyone who got in their way.

Down in the motor pool, he paced in front of the car, waiting for the agents to arrive. Hearing the sound of running footsteps, Oscar climbed into the vehicle, waiting for Zuercher to join him.

“What’s going on?” Zuercher asked, slightly winded. He settled himself into the car seat, narrowly being unseated as the car lurched forward.

Oscar handed the folder, which he decided to take along, to Zuercher. “Read it and tell me what’s wrong with this picture.”

Minutes later, Zuercher looked up, stunned. “I never would have guessed.”

“You didn’t see this folder?”

“No sir. Where did you find it?” Zuercher was puzzled, having gone over all of the possible suspects at the school. If he had seen this particular folder, he would have made an arrest by now.

“It was on the bottom of the pile,” Oscar replied. “Either someone made a serious judgment error or didn’t want us to see it.”

“You don’t think there’s someone on the inside, do you?” Zuercher couldn’t imagine any of his colleagues being a double agent, but knew the possibility always existed.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Oscar said. He glanced out the window, noting the traffic. Leaning forward in his seat, he instructed the driver to use the driving skills he was taught. School would let out within the hour. Oscar suspected this would be the last chance to pick up their man.

Anton gazed out the window, noticing three black four door sedans and one limo barreling into the parking lot. Counting ten men in business suits, he suspected they were from the U.S. government.

Having already made his decision, he acted quickly before the students were restricted to their rooms. Anton informed the teacher he needed to use the restroom.

“Make it quick,” the teacher said, turning her attention back to the blackboard.

Anton grabbed his stuff and headed out the door, hoping the teacher hadn’t noticed the backpack since he would surely be stopped and questioned about taking it to the restroom.

Once in the hall, he hid in an empty class, waiting for the time to approach the men.

As they entered the hall, Anton noticed they split up, three going into the office and the other seven taking different directions. Knowing whom they were searching for, Anton did not want to be seen by the individual; to do so would put his life at risk.

The three men exited the office as the announcement was made for all students to remain in their classrooms. From the classrooms where the doors remained open, a collective groan echoed through the hall.

As the three men approached, Anton stepped out into the hallway, in front of the tallest that sported square wire-rimmed glasses.

Oscar looked down at the boy. “Son, you should be in your classroom.”

Anton swallowed hard before speaking; sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Are you a representative of the United States government?”

Oscar noticed the accent and eyed the boy suspiciously. “Yes, I am.”

“I then request political asylum based on what I’m about to do would put my life at risk,” Anton announced. He pulled out the letter and offered it to Oscar.

“What’s this?” Oscar said, looking over the plain envelope, devoid of writing.

“The envelope contains evidence you may use against the individual you seek,” Anton replied, glancing nervously around the hallway.

“How do you know who we’re looking for?”

“You seek Simon, the janitor,” Anton said.

Oscar’s brow furrowed. He stooped down to Anton’s level. “Son, how do you know who we are after?”

“I am a courier. I have been since I started public school. I was informed that I must deliver the envelope to Simon as discreetly as possible. I would look for him in an empty classroom then leave the envelope on the desk and depart before I would be noticed.” Anton hoped the details would sway the man to make the right decision.

Oscar studied the boy’s face, looking for a hint of a falsehood but found none. It was obvious the boy was scared and anxious. Standing once again, he turned to a nearby agent. “Take the boy out to my car quickly and stay with him.”

Turning back to Anton, “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe; I’ll see to that.”

Anton thanked him then followed the agent out of the building.

Oscar placed the envelope within his jacket pocket, then searched for Zuercher, who had headed straight for the janitor’s closet. As he passed an intersection, he spotted Zuercher at the end off the hallway looking decidedly disgusted.

As Oscar approached the agent, he overheard the conversation between Zuercher and another agent on the radio. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

The other agent explained they had found the janitor’s uniform and assorted cleaning products stashed in the corner of an empty classroom.

“That doesn’t mean he’s gone. He could be hiding anywhere,” Zuercher said. He switched radio channels to an open frequency. “I want every inch of this school searched,” he said into the mike. “Don’t take no for an answer. We have to find this man.” Zuercher clicked off the mike, turning his attention to Oscar.

“We’ll find him, one way or another.”

“I certainly hope so. We have a witness who provided proof the janitor is involved,” Oscar said. He went on to explain the situation with Anton.

“So a boy’s life is at stake too,” Zuercher said.

Oscar nodded. “He’s out in my car now with an agent watching him. I don’t know what we’ll do with him, but based on the evidence he provided, I know he will be granted political asylum.”

Three gunshots echoed through the halls; screams erupted from a multitude of classrooms. Drawing their guns, Oscar and Zuercher ran toward the source of the sound, outside in the parking lot. Three other agents joined them as they exited the building.

Approaching the cars, Oscar spotted one body on the ground, unmoving. He motioned Zuercher to check the interior of the car while he checked the body for any signs of life, expecting to find none because of the bullet hole through the man’s head.

Standing, he approached Zuercher who backed away from the vehicle, shaking his head.

Oscar glanced into the vehicle, horrified at the sight. His agent and Anton had both died instantly, each having been shot once in the head.

Oscar’s heart dropped. He leaned heavily against the car, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes. Not thirty minutes ago, the boy was alive and asking for asylum. Now he was dead.

Zuercher looked to the body on the ground. “That’s him. The janitor. He must have suspected we’d be back and decided he’d rather die by his own hand than by execution by the government.”

Oscar called local authorities, requesting the coroner come to handle the bodies. Turning back to Zuercher, “The boy’s father doesn’t need to know he was defecting. We can say he was removed from the school for his own safety while we searched for a fugitive.” Debating with himself, Oscar finally felt it best to return the letter to Anton’s backpack; questions may be raised if it turned up missing.

Zuercher agreed. They spent the rest of the afternoon handling the situation and interviewing staff members.

Oscar spoke personally with Paul, letting him know this part of the puzzle was complete.

“You mean the janitor had a PhD in mathematics?” Paul said, stunned.

Oscar nodded. “And computer science. He also served in the military for a short while as a cryptographer. Due to health reasons, he was given an honorable discharge six years later.”

Paul just shook his head in disbelief. He had never spoken to the janitor, other than a brief ‘good morning’. Paul had always suspected the janitor to be a little slow, possibly slightly retarded.

“What about Steve?” Paul asked.

“We think we know where he is being kept,” Oscar said. “Come this evening, we’ll either have him back with us or we’ll be back to square one.”

Having finished the interviews, Zuercher sought out Oscar. Excusing himself and promising to keep Paul informed on the search for Steve, Oscar left with Zuercher, heading back to the office.

“Kill him.”

“What?” Marshal sat stunned, having grabbed the phone, expecting it to be one of his men.

“I said kill him.”

“I thought we agreed you would never contact me directly,” Marshal said, finally recognizing the voice of the Russian Ambassador.

“I don’t care what we agreed. I want Austin dead,” the Ambassador said. The news of his son’s death hit him hard like nothing else he’d ever felt.

“What about my money?” Marshal said. The arrangement was for him to deliver the package to the shipping docks just south of Washington where Steve would be placed upon a ship and taken to Russia. Marshal had risked quite a bit to kidnap the astronaut and wasn’t about to lose the payoff.

“The money has already been deposited to your account. Put me on hold and make a call to confirm it,” the Ambassador said. If he knew the location of Robertson, he would have gone out there himself to take Steve’s life.

Marshal did as told and within five minutes a teller from a Swiss bank confirmed the deposit of ten million dollars, available immediately.

Returning to the Ambassador, “The money is there. Why do you want him dead now?”

“My son is dead. If Austin hadn’t poked his nose in where it didn’t belong, my son would still be alive,” the Ambassador said. “Your code-breaker is dead as well. He killed my son, a government agent and then himself.”

Marshal sat silently, digesting the news that his friend was dead. “What proof do you want that the deed was done?”

“Dump the body in a public place. I’ll read about it in the newspaper,” the Ambassador said. He didn’t want any hint of his involvement with the astronaut’s death, since he had been cooperative with the U.S. government’s investigation.

“What about his daughter? Do you want her killed as well?” Marshal said, figuring it wouldn’t be too difficult to capture and kill the daughter.

“I am not a monster,” the Ambassador replied. “Children should not suffer the sins of the parents. Leave her alone. She will suffer enough knowing her father will be gone forever, but she will eventually move on with her life.” The Ambassador knew he would never forgive himself for using Anton in such a manner, never anticipating the chore of being a courier would get his son killed.

“It’ll be done tonight,” Marshal said. “We’ll dump the body out on the Mall and depart the country immediately.”

“A good plan,” the Ambassador said. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s newspaper headlines.”

Hanging up the phone, Marshal sat staring into space, thinking. He was not a killer nor would he ever be. The task would fall to one of his men, but which one? All four were capable of killing a stranger, but the fact they had been around the prisoner for a while would not help, nor knowing they would be killing a celebrated astronaut.

Cassie paced the area, growing impatient. Rustling in the brush behind her caught her attention. Turning she spotted several agents emerging, heading in her direction.

As Zuercher approached, she said, “It’s about time you got here. You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

Zuercher went on to explain the situation, including Anton’s death as well as the death of Agent Sampson.

Cassie leaned against a tree, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach.

“A road block has been set up in case any of them try to escape,” Zuercher said.

Regaining her composure, Cassie led the agents to her car where the map still lay on the hood. She went over the plan to rescue Steve. They would split into four teams; two would go inside, one at the front, one from the back, while the other two teams would monitor the activity in the area, ready to capture anyone who tried to escape.

“I’m taking the lead on team one, Z is taking the lead on team two,” Cassie announced. She put the veteran agents on the first two teams, and then split the greener agents into teams three and four.

“Sunset is shortly after five,” Cassie announced. “We’ll wait until six to make our move.”

“It’ll be a full moon tonight, so flashlights will not be necessary. We don’t know what kind, if any, of video equipment may be monitoring the area, so we need to stay in the shadows the best we can,” Zuercher explained.

“How many men are in there?” one agent said.

“I estimate five men, one of average build and the others the size of marines on steroids,” Cassie said. “We’ve been instructed to take the men alive, if possible. If your life is at risk, don’t hesitate to shoot to kill.”

The group spent the next few minutes checking their weapons, making sure everyone was ready. As dusk approached, teams three and four took their positions, permitting visual contact of the entire building. Once settled in, they radioed back to Cassie.

After receiving the report, Cassie turned down the volume. “Now, we wait,” she said to Zuercher. Picking up the binoculars off the hood of the car, she resumed her position in the grove of trees.

Finally coming to terms with the change in plans, Marshal went in search of Greg, the one man he would trust with his life.

Finding him in the lounge, Marshal pulled Greg out, away from prying ears. “The plan has changed. I need you to kill Austin.”

“What?” Greg said, puzzled. “What about our money?”

“The money has already been deposited in the account. I’ve confirmed it. Our buyer has decided he wants Austin dead with the body dumped in a public place. He expects to read about it in the morning paper,” Marshal explained.

“How do you want it done?” Greg asked, not too keen at the idea of killing the prisoner. Although he had been trained to kill while in the service, the training did not include killing an innocent in cold blood.

Marshal paced the corridor. “I don’t know. I had no idea this would happen. I had no problem turning him over to the Russians so they may do what they want with him, but for us to have to kill him, well, that’s a different situation altogether.”

Greg came up with an idea. “Due to the circumstances, I’d prefer to do it as humanely as possible.” He suggested drugging their prisoner first, then killing him.

Marshal agreed. “We were just told to do it by any means possible. I like your idea. Carry it out after he’s gone to sleep.”

Greg nodded, watching Marshal head for the office. Once out of sight, Greg returned to the lounge. He had plenty of time to check on the tranquilizers before the time came to carry out his orders.

As the appointed time approached, Cassie and Zuercher lead their teams to the appointed positions.

In the meantime, Chip had left for the evening, leaving Dale to guard their prisoner. Steve lay on the bed, feigning sleep.

Steve allowed a half hour or so to elapse before setting his plan into action. Glancing down at his watch, Steve felt enough time had lapsed. Chip had left at half past five without having anyone else come to replace him. Dale sat at the table, thumbing through a magazine.

Steve went over the plan in his head one more time, preparing for his escape.

Promptly at six, under the cover of darkness, Cassie and Zuercher moved the teams into position.

Team one, Cassie’s team, approached the front entrance, surprised to find the double doors open. The interior was dark, but the moonlight filtering through the windows cast a pale light over the desks and counters.

Once their eyes adjusted, Cassie scanned the now defunct police station lobby. Carefully weaving through the furniture, the team found themselves at a set of steel double doors. A sliver of light could be seen from under the door, letting the team know that life existed beyond the doors.

Team two, Zuercher’s team, were not faring as well. The back entrance was not only locked, but a hefty chain weaved through the door handles, hooked together by a heavy-duty padlock.

Several minutes passed before a team member had successfully picked the padlock. As quietly as possible, Zuercher removed the chains, slowly lowering them to the ground. The lock pick then went to work on the door, which proved to be a little more difficult. After several unsuccessful tries, the agent almost had the lock picked when the door swung outward.

Looking up, Zuercher spotted Cassie with a slight grin on her face.

“Don’t send a man to do a woman’s job…” Cassie retreated into the hall, allowing team two inside.

Cassie’s team had carefully checked the closed door on their side, finding it open once again. Peeking into the hallway and finding it empty, they decided to enter and check out the area.

Halfway down the hall, they found a locked door. Figuring it was the first line of defense; Cassie felt it would be best to find Zuercher, not really expecting they’d still be outside.

Cassie motioned them down the hall to the locked door. The lock pick stepped forward once again, checking for an alarm system. Finding none, he set to work on the lock. A minute later, the door opened silently.

Guns drawn, the teams silently entered the hallway. The hall came to a dead-end about thirty feet away, forcing a person to go right or left.

Cassie motioned her team right while Zuercher went left.

Halfway down the second hall, Cassie held up her hand, forcing a halt. The sound of a television could be heard from a room a little further down the way.

Cassie motioned for them to inch forward as quietly as possible. Once at the doorway, she could see the reflection of what appeared to be a lounge in the glass window of the door.

She held up three fingers, and then motioned inside. The other agents nodded, moving forward slowly, crouching low to the ground.

Cassie signaled that on the count of three, they would rush in and subdue the men.

When she held up a third finger, Cassie flung the door open the remainder of the way, allowing the crouching agents a chance to enter.

The startled men reached for their guns, but were taken down before having a chance to fire.

“Cuff them and keep them here,” Cassie said. “I have an idea where Austin is being held,” she said, bolting out the door before anyone could stop her.

She traced back her route, knowing the stairs down would be in the left hallway. As quickly and quietly as she could, Cassie ran along the corridor, mindful of the open doors along the hall.

Approaching a set of double doors, she carefully pushed them open, heading for the stairs mere feet away.

Cassie quickly descended to the second level. Exiting the stairwell through another set of double doors, Cassie took refuge behind a soda machine.

Scanning the area, she found the hallway empty. Cassie quietly made her way to the dead end, taking another left. Unfortunately as she rounded the corner, she ran into a small table, knocking the contents to the floor.

Sitting in his office, Marshal was startled when he heard the clatter in the hallway. Knowing that three of his men were on level one and Dale was on level three he became suspicious.

Reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulled out an automatic pistol. Assured it was loaded, he positioned himself to the left of the open door, waiting. A minute later he saw the reflection of a woman walking quickly down the hall. He hugged the wall so she wouldn’t see him, if she were to use the reflection in the glass as well.

Cassie continued down the hall, proceeding cautiously at each doorway. Approaching the next door, she stopped and checked the glass for reflections. Spotting a desk, chair and file cabinet, Cassie continued on past the door.

Steps away, Cassie froze, hearing the sound of footsteps in the hallway behind her.

“Smart woman,” the man said. “Well, not too smart. If you were truly smart, you wouldn’t have come here.”

Cassie started to turn around.

“Tsk, tsk, no you don’t. Stay right where you are,” Marshal said, approaching. “I can’t have you interfering with my duties. Ten million dollars would be a lot to lose,” he said, neglecting to mention he’d already been paid. “I assume you are not alone?”

Cassie’s mind raced, quickly formulating a plan. When she didn’t answer, the man asked again.

“Pardon me, but I asked you a question,” he said. “Are you alone?” Marshal raised the gun, aiming it at the small of Cassie’s back.

“Does it really matter,” Cassie said, her voice louder than necessary. “If I got this far, doesn’t it make sense that your men have been dispatched?”

“You needn’t shout, Miss. I’m not deaf. And yes, you have a point.”

Cassie’s voice drifted down the stairs, alerting the captive and guard to someone’s presence. From what they heard, it was obvious the person didn’t belong.

The guard picked up his gun and bolted down the hallway, in search of the intruder.

Steve took the chance to escape. He had surmised it to be easier to kick down the cell door than to manhandle it. One swift kick and the door flew across the room. He bolted from the room after Dale, knowing he must deal with the guard first.

The sound of the cell door crashing against the wall had caused Dale to turn around and head back toward the jail cell. He was surprised to see Austin heading in his direction at a high rate of speed. Before he could raise his rifle, Steve had plowed into Dale, feet first.

Dale his the wall with a resounding thud, then slid to the floor unconscious. Steve couldn’t leave the man where he lay in the event he regained consciousness. Steve looked around the hall, finding a set of double doors. Checking what lay beyond, Steve found the room to be empty. He dragged Dale into the room, dropping him on the floor. Closing the double doors, Steve took the rifle and jammed it through the door handles. Assured Dale wouldn’t escape, Steve headed for the stairs.

Cassie knew she would have one chance to escape the situation. Raising the gun as she spun around, she managed to fire one shot before Marshal returned fire with two shots. The first bullet tore through Cassie’s shoulder from the side, exiting through her back. The second bullet hit her square in the chest. As she went down, Cassie fired off another shot, killing Marshal instantly.

Within seconds, Cassie fell unconscious.

Steve bounded up the stairs at record speed. Having heard the gunshots, Steve hastened his step. At the top of the stairs, Steve pulled off one of the doors, tossing it aside. He stood, horrified. Down the hall he spotted Cassie on the floor, unconscious.

Bolting to her side, he knelt down at her side. “35! Come on 35! Wake up! You can’t do this to me!” Steve shouted.

A moan escaped from Cassie. “Stop shouting.” Her eyelids fluttered open. Looking up at her Blue Eyes, “And just why did it take you so long to escape?”

Ignoring the question, “What are you doing here? Are you alone?” Steve helped her to a sitting position. “You’re bleeding!”

“Bullets will do that,” she said, looking at the shoulder. “It’s a good thing I wore a bullet proof vest.”

Leaning Cassie against the wall, Steve moved in close, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He then glanced toward the unmoving body of his host. “Damn.”

“What?” Cassie said, following his gaze.

“I wanted to do that.”

“Sorry 34. I didn’t have much of a choice,” Cassie replied.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Steve said, helping Cassie to her feet. Carefully picking her up, Steve quickly headed for the next set of stairs. Within minutes they were upstairs. After yelling instructions to the remaining agents, Steve headed out the door, toward Cassie’s car. Once he settled Cassie in the front seat, he jumped behind the wheel and headed for the National Medical Center.

Rudy spent most of the day trying to keep Sam occupied. Having been with Sam for more than a year, he was used to her moods, but today was different. Sam’s moods swung from being terrified to being angry at the world. He finally decided it was best to giver her a wide berth.

When the phone rang, Sam stopped in mid-pace. Rudy grabbed the phone, breaking into a grin a moment later. Hanging up the phone, he turned to Sam. “Grab your coat. Steve is okay. We’re going to meet him at the hospital.”

Sam became puzzled. “If he’s okay, why are we meeting him at the hospital?”

“Cassie was injured, but will be fine.”

Rudy grabbed his keys and followed Sam out the door.

Before Rudy could turn off the engine, Sam was out of the car, racing for the hospital entrance. Throwing open the double doors, she sprinted down the hall, following the Emergency Room signs. Rounding the corner, Sam skidded to a halt, spotting her father pacing the room.

“Dad!” Sam bolted toward Steve, throwing herself into his waiting arms. Father and daughter embraced in a bear hug, holding it for a couple of minutes. Sam finally let go of all the emotions she’d held back and started crying.

“Shh,” Steve said in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m okay.” He guided Sam to a nearby couch as Rudy and Oscar entered the room. Father and daughter sat, Steve still holding Sam. “Let it out. I know this wasn’t easy for you. It wasn’t easy for me either, thinking I may never see you again.”

Minutes passed before Sam pulled away from Steve, wiping away her tears. She turned to Steve, “Don’t you do that again!” She poked him in the chest with each word, and then hugged him again.

Oscar and Rudy took nearby seats, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.

Sam finally let go and leaned back against the couch, snuggling into Steve’s arm, which encircled her shoulders.

“Any word on Cassie?” Rudy said.

“Not yet, but the ER doctor said it was a clean shot. They are just cleaning up the wound,” Steve said.

Oscar went on to explain the details behind the case, including the death of Anton.

Steve took the news hard. “What’s being done about the Russian’s?”

Carefully picking his words Oscar said, “The current Ambassador and his entourage have been politely asked to leave the country, without incident. Failure to comply will cause a new leak revealing how the Soviets will use children in the spy game.” Oscar and the CIA Director had made the conditions crystal clear to the Russian Ambassador.

“Have they left yet?” Steve said.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Oscar said. “The CIA provided an escort.”

For the next half hour, Oscar filled in the remainder of the details, right down to the fact that Brody was the Russian’s inside man.

“What?” Steve said in disbelief. “Brody’s a good man. He wouldn’t do something like that!”

Oscar explained how the one file, which obviously contained information on the suspect at the school, had floated to the bottom of the pile. “Brody was also talking to Callahan when she took the message from you about your visit to the embassy. Once cornered, he cracked.”

Steve shook his head, having a hard time believing Brody would become a double agent. “Did he say why?”

Oscar nodded. “Money, of course. I was unaware that he has a severely retarded daughter. He’s on the verge of bankruptcy due to the cost of her care. He figured if he worked with the Russians, he would be able to provide the best of care for her.”

Rudy just shook his head. “Brody needed the money for his daughter at the expense of others lives.”

“Did he provide all the information about the agents to the Russians?” Steve said.

“Yes. He would copy the encrypted lists, which were entrusted to his care, then manage to get them to a Russian contact,” Oscar said.

The sound of footsteps interrupted their conversation. Everyone turned to the ER doctor walking toward them, still in his greens.

“Miss Miller did well. The bullet missed the jugular by a couple of inches. She’ll be in recovery for another hour, then will be moved into a private room.”

“Can I see her?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Follow me,” the doctor said.

Steve let go of Sam. “I’ll be right back.” Steve followed the doctor down the hall through the double doors.

The nurse pulled up a chair next to the gurney. Steve thanked the nurse, taking a seat next to Cassie. He reached for her hand, covering it with his. A moment later, Cassie’s eyelids fluttered open.

Steve smiled. “Hey 35, welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Cassie said in a whisper.

“The doctor said you’ll be fine,” Steve said, scooting his chair a little closer. “So what are we going to do as an encore?”

“Haven’t a clue. I do know that I need a vacation,” Cassie said.

Steve smiled. “I think we can manage that.”

The nurse informed Steve he would have to leave. Steve stood and kissed Cassie on the cheek. “Rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Cassie nodded, drifting off to sleep.

Returning to the waiting room, Steve hugged Sam once more. “Ready to go home?”

“Most definitely.”

Father and daughter excused themselves, heading for home.

Two weeks had passed since the night of Steve's rescue. Cassie had been discharged two days later; under the condition she takes it easy. After informing Oscar they were taking vacation time for one to two weeks, Steve, Cassie and Sam headed for the mountains of North Carolina. Steve rented a three-bedroom house where they could relax, venturing forth when they wished.

Back in Washington, Oscar leaned back in his chair, going over the morning paperwork. A knock on the office door startled Oscar out of his reports.

"Come in," he called, up righting himself and setting the reports aside.

Russ entered the office carrying a thick file folder bound with multiple rubber bands. "I finally have the answer, Oscar. I know why Sam has a problem with you." He handed the folder over to his boss. "I summarized the folder into the top five pages. Once you've read it, I'd suggest you read the whole file. It will be of interest to you."

"Thanks Russ," Oscar said, taking the rubber bands off the folder.

Russ excused himself, leaving Oscar to read the report.

Oscar took out the five-page summary, leaning back in his chair once again. He slowly poured through the report, amazed at the contents. By the time he reached the last page, he was dumbfounded. "This can't be..." he said to himself.

He read the summary three times over, making sure he didn't misread it. Leaning forward in his chair, Oscar removed his glasses, tossing them to the side. He returned the summary to the folder and closed it.

Oscar stood and crossed the office to his credenza where he kept his personal pictures. Picking up a picture of Sam and Steve, he stared at it for a moment. "Dear Sam, I understand now. I really understand." He replaced the picture and returned to the folder, setting the summary aside, spending the rest of the day reading the report.

When he finished, Oscar closed the folder and locked it in his bottom drawer. Grabbing his coat, he turned off the lights and left the office, closing the door behind him.