In a moments time
written by Kimberly
Seth followed the old woman into the hotel room.
"This was the room they stayed in," the woman replied.
Seth kept his gun out, but held low. He didn't expect trouble from the old woman, but he knew better than to not be ready. He looked around the room- the closet was still open, a drawer slightly ajar. He pulled it open - not even worried about things like bombs. They wouldn't have set bombs for anyone coming behind them.
But then again - he really couldn't see any of them doing the gun for hire thing either - and apparently they were.
Kamal walked into the room, "Nothing in the room that Kristie & Stephen shared."
Seth pushed the bathroom door open, "Same here - they were thorough."
He spotted the trash can, and saw the remains of a condom package. No way he was going to bag that up for any kind of evidence. But what he did do was scoop it out with a wad of toilet paper and flush it. It would have DNA on it - and he wasn't going to help Section go after Alex.
"This is too weird," Seth said walking back out of the bathroom, "I don't feel right, snooping around where she slept."
"I don't believe they're really alive," Kamal told him, "Our Alex wouldn't do what they are saying."
It was then that they heard Rick - their latest team leader - calling them back to the van. Rick wasn't the worst team leader they'd ever had, but he wasn't Alex. Rick had company man written all over him too, and he was arrogant. He didn't alter the profile ever - no matter how bad it was, or how wrong it was.
Kristie threw the door to their systems room open, finding Darren madly typing away at a terminal, and Alexandra standing over one of the comm techs.
"We got a security net up, right? Cause sections best is probably our biggest problem right now," Kristie asked.
Teddy Bear was on his feet and rubbing against her legs a moment later. Pepe squirmed in Alexandra's arms, his tail wagging furiously. Kristie reached over, scratching the smaller dogs back with one hand, and reaching down to scratch the Rott with the other.
"Yes," Darren replied, "And you're right - Sections best is our biggest problem. I think Birkhoff is tracking mercenary payments. I think - that is."
"You think," Kristie sighed, walking over behind Darren, "'I think' might get us caught - I'm not sure I trust Jones to stop them from canceling our asses if they find us."
Darren glanced up at her, "Which is why I am still at it. Our security here hasn't been breached, and our file at the agency hasn't been breached - otherwise they'd have us here."
"Hence we're being tracked from outside," Alexandra finished.
Kristie nodded, "Or they're covering their track so we couldn't tell if it was breeched. I've been racking my brain since we left Kosovo. I was leaning towards probability analysis - like someone figuring what jobs we'd take. But we're taking most of what comes our way - so that doesn't quite fit. But if someone is doing the research in drv - it wouldn't be that hard to find us here - or out there. We're hiding in plain site."
"It's a big planet," Stephen said, walking in, "Big enough to relocate. Michael and Nikita are inbound, I just got a phone call."
"What about us then?" The comm tech asked, not looking up from the computer screen."
"I'm thinking you guys are just gonna have to go back to the agency," Stephen said, "Because you don't want to be here when Section gets here - and as much as I like our little island here - I'm thinking it's time to hang our hats someplace else."
"They were there," Rick said.
Seth held his tongue. The new operations - or the interim operations - at least they hoped she was short term - had been waiting for them when the team arrived back at Section One. Her name was Rachel - but no one called her anything but Operations. Except of course - Mr. Jones.
"Then why don't we have them," Rachel asked, her tone somewhere between polite and condescending.
"They cleared out before we got there. Local reports were that they left suddenly," Nick told her, "We interrogated some of the people that they worked with. No pictures or surveillance - but the physical descriptions are pretty detailed. It has to be them - all of them."
Rachel didn't nod. She didn't tell them they did good, bad, or indifferent. She didn't actually care how they felt about it. All she cared about - was that the job got done - and done the way she wanted it to be done. It hadn't surprised her that they were gone when Section arrived at the location. She'd heard of Michael and Nikita before. She'd seen Darren, Stephen's, Kristie's and Alexandra's name on reports before. They had a track record of surviving things - and getting things done. Sections best - they'd been called.
Now they were sections biggest problem. Rachel had received Intel from the agency - probably higher - that a few of the remnants of Red Cell, the freedom league and a few other smaller terrorist groups were banding together. Their main reason for existence apparently was revenge. Section One would be at the top of their list. They'd already hit some smaller targets. The CIA, MI-5 and Mosaad had already suffered big losses.
If Michael, Nikita and their little trainee's where out on their own, who better to attack Section One - than someone who knew it as well as they did.
"We got them!" Someone yelled from down the hall, "Birkhoff just got something from the agency!"
Rachel turned on her heel, and strode back towards the comm center. Birkhoff was busily typing away on a keyboard, mumbling words to himself as his fingers flew. Other people were starting to franticly moving about their work stations.
"What do you have?" Rachel demanded.
"The center has been compromised," Birkhoff said, "So has the agency. Mr. Jones is missing - and his tracking devices are completely offline. Protocol is to-"
"I know what the protocol is," Rachel snapped, "Tell me what instructions you received and how this involves Michael and Nikita."
"Jones put them all in a cell," Birkhoff said, "I have the file right here. They've been working under him the whole time. The Agency and the Center both think that they have Mr. Jones too. He was going to meet them when he disappeared. They want us to apprehend them. Their base location is in this file. We've also been ordered to incinerate our location - and move to location three."
"I don't have a location three in any of my files," Rachel snapped.
"Because it's new," Birkhoff replied shortly, "Michael and Nikita don't even know where it is."
"Call everyone in," Rachael snapped, "And start the two hour countdown."
*****
Pepe was chasing after freshly washed socks falling out of a laundry basket when the cell phone rang. The little Chihuahua was aware of the tension in the air, but he didn't understand it. What he did understand was that his people were back - and a captured sock usually resulted in playtime. Alexandra reached down to take one of end of the captured sock when a ringing sound drew her attention away. But that didn't stop Pepe, he just trotted after her.
"I got Intel for you," Eric's voice came through the cell phone.
Alexandra couldn't help but smile when she saw the caller ID on the cell phone. She saw Darren's expression change, when he saw the look on her face. Curiosity, then realization, and mild irritation.
"If you're going to tell me that we're on the endangered species list, I knew that," She replied.
"Got a little visit in Kosavo?" Eric said, "I heard that - but that's not why I'm calling."
"Oh gee, thanks! Did you know they were coming? Because I would have liked a little more lead time," Alexandra snapped.
Eric laughed, "I saw some of your old people as they were leaving actually. So I knew about it after the fact. And actually - it's them that's on the endangered species list."
Alexandra paused for a moment, then, "Who specifically?"
"Some of your traditional old enemies. A group has formed - old terrorist group members that have survived your previous roundup jobs. Someone decided to get them together, and they're getting even."
Alexandra laughed, "That kind of stuff is always happening. They're like viruses. You just can't kill the damn little things."
"You might want to take these guys a little more seriously Alex," Eric said, the concern evident in his voice, "They're not revolting against there own governments or the west in general. They're going after counter-terrorism groups. Took out a CIA contact of mine a few days ago. I've heard they've hit the Brits, Israeli's, FBI, CIA," Eric told her, "And they are looking to add Section to their list of credits."
"What are they, stupid?" Alexandra replied, "We've been crushing them for years."
"Not all of them," Eric replied, "Besides - word is out that some of Section One's op's defected. They're looking weak - and I gotta tell you Alex - they are. I've had no problem dodging the guy who thinks he took your place. They're leaking Intel big time. I know newspapers that are better at keeping secrets then they are right now" "They're in transition," Alexandra replied, "But thanks for letting me know. I'll get it to someone."
"Actually," Eric said, drawing out the word, "Someone from this group contacted me - looking for the cold ops that left Section. They want to hire you. They're serious. It's all they're doing - wiping out cold ops of western empire. Their words - not mine. I don't have a call back number yet though. They're going to contact me with contact information."
Alexandra was quiet for a moment.
"Alex?" Eric asked gently.
"I'm here," She replied.
"What do I tell them?"
"That we'll consider it - for the right price," she told him, "I'll call you back in a few hours, we're on the move again."
"Hey," Eric said, "You OK? You sound tense all of a sudden."
"I have friends there still," Alexandra replied, "Good people too. Not all of us belong there."
"They're working on finding a location," Eric told him, "But they're still looking. You've got time to warn them."
"Yeah - Later. I'll call you," Alexandra said, just a moment before she hit the end button.
"Your other boy-" Darren started.
"Don't start," Alexandra snapped, "Someone is after Section One."
Darren grinned, "Tell me something new."
"They're looking to hire us. Apparently Intel is leaking out of Section One big time too."
"We were leaking Intel beforehand," Darren said, "There's always someone willing to make a quick buck."
"What if they find them Darren?" Alexandra snapped, "These people are not looking for us on the side - they're going after counter terrorist groups - and they've got some. That is all they are doing apparently."
Darren sighed, "While that would solve a big problem for us - We've got friends there. People who don't deserve to die."
They'd been packing when Alexandra's phone call came in. Alexandra had stopped, while Darren continued on. Pepe whimpered, as if he understood what they were saying.
"I know baby," Alexandra said, reaching over to stroke her fingers down the little dogs back.
"We don't even know where we're going yet," Alexandra replied, "This is so screwed. We can't warn them directly. We can go to the agency - but I'm not totally convinced they're so secure either."
"We can't do anything until we find a new place to hang our hats," Darren replied, scooping up Pepe, "And we've got two dogs we need to keep safe while we do this. We're not going to have Tech support to dog sit."
Kristie burst through the door, Teddy Bear skidding to halt next to her.
"Section's on its way. Their ETA is in 9 minutes. We've got to leave now. Jones is missing."
Alexandra yanked the closet open, pulling out the two lightweight jackets, then she grabbed her gun. Darren palmed his own gun and some cash they had stashed for emergencies, and then they were out the door, running after Kristie.
They ran to the docks, hearing a loud 'whump' the moment they cleared the door of their cabana. Michael and Nikita had one of the boats running and waiting when they got there. One of the other boats was adrift - and one of the comm techs laying across the back seats, a charred burnt hole in his chest.
"He was disabling one of the boats and set off a pressure charge, without setting a timer for his escape," Nikita told them, "We need to separate. They'll be looking for a group of six and two dogs. Someone needs to take the Jet ski's, and the other two the last boat. We'll meet up in Rio at the Paradise Hotel and Casino in four days."
"You take the boat, you have a bigger dog," Alexandra said to Kristie. Alexandra pulled on the life jacket, and tucked Pepe just inside the top of it, so he could still move his head around and breath.
"What about the comm team? They can track us," Kristie said, as she climbed into the remaining boat.
Another loud 'whump' went up, just as Stephen came running down the dock.
"Communications disk is down," Stephen said, "I left them locked in the main comm room."
"Alex and I are going West," Darren announced, "See you in Rio."
Alexandra climbed onto the Jet Ski first, starting it. Darren climbed on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She gunned the engine - and they took off.
Stephen climbed into the remaining boat, and they headed south. They were a mile out going full speed when they saw a helicopter racing towards the island they'd just left.
Stephen glanced over at Kristie, thinking to himself that Section had to know they were running by now - since comm was down.
Hours later . . .
"We're low on gas," Alexandra said, angling towards a marina. The sun was just turning the sky a light blue. They'd been following the coast line for hours.
"We should get off the water anyway," Darren told her, "We need to get dry, and get some food. I think I've got $1000, that should be more than enough to get us to Rio - but if something goes wrong, we'll need more. Which means we need to get to a computer too."
Alexandra only nodded. They were soaked to the skin, and cold.
"You're gonna hack some kiddy porn account, right?" Alexandra said.
"Yeah," Darren said, "That's the plan. Kristie found something like 15 accounts - just in case we needed quick cash. But we have to move fast the moment we do it."
"I think move fast is the order of the day," Alexandra commented.
They were moving slowly through the docks now, and she found a spot to pull in. They docked, and didn't bother to register with the harbor master. They wouldn't be coming back for it.
They moved through the street market, buying a few changes of cloths. Then they walked into one of the nicer hotels, went into the bar restrooms and changed, then into the internet café just off the lobby. Darren immediately started on hacking into one of the accounts.
"I'm thinking a commercial flight would be a mistake," Alexandra said quietly, watching his fingers fly across the keyboard, "They'll be looking at the airport security tapes - screen faces - the way you and I caught Michael and Nikita before on that training mission."
"Bus?" Darren offered.
"Kinda what I was thinking," she said.
"It will take about an hour for this money to get into the account," Darren told her.
"You're done?" Alexandra asked, surprised, "That fast?"
Darren made two more key strokes, "Don't sound so surprised. I'm a talented man."
Alexandra smirked, "and so modest."
"Fucking third world cesspool," Kristie muttered under her breath as she read the headlines on a Columbian newspaper. Drug dealers had killed a DEA agent - and left his body on display in front of the city official's building. She and Stephen had picked up their money in another city yesterday afternoon - and then rented a car. They moved from city to city each day. Yesterday they'd been on the road 12 hours - before they finally settled on a bed and breakfast just outside a city. Today they would drive for hours and hours again, and the day after tomorrow they'd fly into Rio.
"I just got propositioned by some nasty hooker when I was out getting our breakfast," Stephen told her, "Just about everything is for sale here."
"Everything is for sale anywhere anymore," Kristie replied, "If you know where to look - but this place is just . . .blatant."
"I hope your Portuguese is better than mine," Stephen told her.
Kristie looked over at him, "I don't speak Portuguese at all."
Stephen grinned, "I never took one class in Section, or before. I don't know a word either."
Kristie groaned, "We really will be the idiot tourists then."
She downed her coffee, and grabbed up the back pack she'd been carrying. Stephen had a duffel bag. They'd bought a few days worth of cloths at one of the island markets when they ditched the Jet Ski and parked themselves for a few hours to hack into a kiddy porn account for money.
They headed out of the hotel, and were walking towards the parking when a black van pulled up to the curb at the end of the block, and three people got out. The black van pulled back into traffic then, and turned the corner.
"They're tracking us," Stephen said softly.
They kept walking straight down the sidewalk, instead of towards where the car was parked. Teddy Bear must have sensed the Tension. He moved in closer to Kristie, his head moving from side to side, looking for a threat.
"The car rental company," Kristie replied, "They've got the names on our passports - and we bought those a few weeks ago."
"They're not on line," Stephen commented.
"Good leg work maybe," Kristie replied, "or they are online and we just didn't see a computer at the desk."
"So we need new passports," Stephen said, "Shit."
"We steal them. Start looking for people that look like we do - we follow them, pick some pockets," Kristie said, "Cause we don't have time to make or buy new ones."
"There's the street market, lots of people for the picking," Steven said quietly, steering them around a corner.
The sound of screeching tires was their only warning, and it was so close, Kristie knew they were caught as the blur of the speeding van blocked her view of the street. The door flew open as she twisted away to bolt, but something hit her from behind, knocking her to the ground, blinding pain exploding in the back of neck. She tried do draw in a breath, and couldn't. She couldn't move her arms, her legs, and she saw the ground she was on pull back from her, but she couldn't feel anything. Anything except her chin rubbing against something. She heard short clipped commands, terse warnings, someone ordering someone to make sure they were secured. She heard someone say there was something wrong with her. The edges of her vision started to get fuzzy, and sounds started to sound distant. She couldn't feel anyone moving her, or handling her, but she could see that she was being pulled, and moved. Then she heard someone say her neck was broken, that she wasn't breathing. She heard Stephen howl with rage.
Then she heard nothing.
Michael fastened the last stud on his tux shirt, watching Nikita out of the corner of his eye. They'd arrived early, and they'd been playing the rich tourists for a few days. Money that they'd stolen from kiddy porn accounts was what they were spending on the fancy hotel room, at the black jack table and at the craps table. Last night, Nikita had made a sizable donation to the casino god at a black jack table. Tonight Michael wanted to spend some of the dirty money at the craps table.
Nikita's gown was a long, clingy number, in a light metallic gold. She had her hair swept up into a mass of curls on top of her head, and she wore just a touch of makeup. She looked spectacular. Michael had to smile. They didn't do this kind of thing enough.
And tonight it would end. Darren, Alex, Kristie and Stephen should be arriving tonight.
"OK, I'm ready," Nikita announced, turning away from the mirror. She slid her feet into the strappy high heeled shoes, and looped her arm through Michaels.
Tony checked into the hotel in the late afternoon, quickly unpacking. He sent his tux for a quick press, and ate an early dinner while he went through the file he had on his latest target. His target was here on holiday - meeting his brother and his brother's new wife. Tomorrow his target had reservations on a flight to New Amsterdam, where he'd meet with his staff. He laundered money for living. He'd crossed the wrong people though - and given out information he never should have given out. The people he hurt wanted him dead.
So they'd hired Tony.
The target would never make his flight tomorrow. When housekeeping found him the next morning, he'd be dead for several hours. Tony had already obtained a housekeeping key - which he'd use tonight to enter the suite. Tonight, he'd tail his target through the casino, and track him until he went back to his suite.
A knock on the door drew his attention, and he knew his Tux was ready. Tony opened the door, handed the woman delivering the garment some cash, and then closed his door to dress. He dressed quickly, and paused when he looked in the mirror. Kim had loved to see him in a tux. He still remembered the night he'd seen her, walking across the main floor of section one after being sent out on her first job - her test. She'd looked amazing. Life vibrated within her, made her glow. She was high on her own endorphins. The dull ache in his chest never really left. He knew it was the emotional pain of her loss. God how he missed her . . .She'd never belonged in Section One.
The casino floor was busy, but not overly crowded. Tony scanned the room, watching, evaluating the players, the staff, looking at all the entrances and exits. After a while he moved up to craps table, bought some chips, and placed bets on a few spots. Kim would love this . . .
He looked up, and saw them. Not his target, not his targets brother and wife - but two section operatives. Operatives he'd heard rumors about lately. He forced himself to look down at the table, and not stare. He hadn't expected to see Michael or Nikita here. He thought about walking away. He knew he looked different, but they might recognize mannerisms, speech patterns. He looked around, looking for the others. He didn't see them, but that didn't mean they weren't there.
He couldn't leave the casino floor - not if he intended to carry out the contract through. He had to stay. He looked over at Michael and Nikita again, and then back at the die shooter.
"I'm confused," Nikita said softly to Michael, "I thought seven was bad in craps."
"It is," Michael said, "Except on the come out roll. Seven and eleven pay you on the first roll of a shooter. After the point number is set, then it's bad."
Nikita nodded, "And you get paid when the die show these other bets, after the point number is set?"
"Yes," Michael said, "On this part of the table . . ."
Tony watched both Michael and Nikita scan the room every few minutes, but he was soon convinced it wasn't him they were looking for. Of course, the world still thought of him as dead. He'd never contacted any of them, and he'd been careful to keep a low profile, his exposure low.
Could they be here for his target? That would be inconvenient. Tony glanced over at Michael's betting. After a few moments, it was obvious that Michael was very familiar with this game. He had bets placed carefully on many parts of the table, and his winnings were piling up. The shooter was on Tony's end of the table, so it gave Tony and excuse to be watching the other end of the table for the rolls. He glanced at Michael and Nikita every few seconds, and started to relax. He started to doubt they knew who he really was.
Alexandra went right to a pay phone, while Darren arranged for their room. She heard him asking for a room near the Deveroux's, and the clerk had started to tell him what was available on their floor. At least they knew Michael and Nikita had arrived. Alexandra started to shove coins into the pay phone, and dialed up the international exchange, and then Eric's number.
"Wilde," he answered, his tone clipped, cold.
"Hey," she said, "I need some help."
"Alex," he said, his tone changing, "I tried to reach you on your cell. It's dead."
"I need a new cell - six of them actually."
"What else," he asked, "I can be moving in a few hours - but I've got an appointment that I can't miss in about an hour."
"I'm on a payphone," she told him, "So this line isn't secure. I need just about everything."
"That bad huh," he said, "Email me. Use one of my IR accounts."
"Gotcha," she said, "I'll recheck it in 12 hours."
She hung up the phone, and headed for the internet café off the lobby. She saw that Darren had gone into the formal wear shop, and he nodded to her.
A few minutes later, an email was sent, asking for cell phones, passports, and some small hardware. She was just getting up from the chair when she saw Darren walk in, two garment bags over his shoulder.
"What did you buy?" she asked him, grinning, imagining him in a suit or tux.
"Tux and gown," he told her, "Casino floor is formal after 6. There's a Deveroux party that checked in on the 17th floor, in a suite. We have a room down the hall."
"I emailed Eric. He'd going to supply us with some items we'll need."
Darren nodded, hoping his face didn't betray the irritation he felt whenever she mentioned his name. He knew that Eric was a logical choice - and probably their most trustworthy choice - if only because of Alex. But that didn't make Darren feel any better.
Darren hung up the garments bags, and did a quick scan of the room, while Alexandra checked the bathroom and the deck.
"We're clear," Darren said, sighing deeply, "I wonder if Kristie and Stephen are here. There weren't any messages for us."
"Yeah," Alexandra said, "Of all the people to be hunting us - Sections technology concerns me the most. I hoped Kristie and Stephen slipped the net."
Darren reached out, and cupped Alexandra's face, "We'll think of something."
She turned her head, kissing his palm, "I love you."
"I love you too," he said, and leaned forward, brushing his lips across hers.
Pepe, taking the closeness as an invitation, turned his head up, and licked under Darren's chin.
Darren pulled back, laughing, and rubbed the little dogs head.
"I'm gonna grab a shower," Alexandra announced, getting up.
Darren gave the little dog one more scratch around his ears, and headed into the bathroom, pulling off his cloths. He pulled back the shower curtain, and stepped inside.
Alexandra was rinsing soap out of her hair, her head tilted back, her back arched. He saw the smile spread across her face, even though she didn't open her eyes at the sound of the curtain rings moving on the rod. Darren picked up the soap, and started to lather up his hands. He reached for her, pulling her out of the spray, wrapping his arms around her waist, his hands starting their slow sensual wash on her back. Alexandra picked up the soap, and following suit, lathered up her hands, and started at his shoulders, and started to work her way down his chest. She rubbed her thumbs over his nipples, making small tight circles around the hard tight little buds, taunting him. She knew his nipples were sensitive. She felt his hand on her buttocks, one sliding down between her thighs, fingers parting her nether lips. She moved her own hands farther down his stomach, moving straight to his shaft. Her finger wrapped around him, her thumb stroking over the sensitive head, and she felt him shudder.
Darren shoved her back under the water, his hands moving over her body quickly to help wash the soap away, and then he dropped down to his knees in front of her. He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder, widening his access to her. He felt her hands on his hair stroking it back from his face as he parted her nether lips with his fingers, his tongue starting to stroke over her clit.
Alexandra felt the liquid warmth spreading through her limps quickly, each touch of his hands, lips and tongue stealing her body's free will from her. She felt his hand start to slide up her stomach, seeking her breast, his fingers closing over it, squeezing, then his thumb stroking over her nipple. At the same time, his other hand was pressing her closer to his wonderful mouth, his tongue stroking over her clit, his lips suckling it. She moaned softly, the sound escaping her throat, almost without her noticing it, and he suckled harder. The small change was enough to finish her off, her body spacing as her climax washed over her. Darren held her to him as she started to come down, and then he stood up, turning her around.
She knew what he wanted. She put one foot into the corner ledge of the tub/shower, bending over. Darren guided his shaft just inside her, pushing into her slowly, enjoying he feel of her hot wet sheath stretching to accommodate him. He started to slowly pump into her, enjoying the feel of her inner muscles squeezing his hard shaft. She started to rock back into him, changing the stroke a little, urging him on. He moved a little faster, a little harder, her soft gasps of pleasure encouraging him. He fought himself to hold on, until he felt her body's grasp on him change, and then the tell tale shuddering claimed her, and he let his own orgasm take him, his body bucking, out of control for just a few seconds . . .
Over the last few hours Tony became sure that Michael and Nikita were not here to work him, and that they probably were not on an active mission. Meeting someone - probably. But that was it. Michael's pile of chips had grown and grown, Nikita had started to play with some help from Michael. The crowd around the table had grown. Tony had started to follow Michael's tactics, just to see if Michael noticed. Of course, half the table was doing what he was doing as they watched his pile of chips grow. Both he and Nikita did drink, though slowly. As Tony watched, Nikita whispered something in Michael's ear, and Michael smiled a little, and brushed his lips across hers briefly. The exchange was very intimate, somehow private, despite the fact that they were in a room of thousands of people. Tony remembered moments like that between himself and Kim, and had to tear his eye's away from them, lest they catch him staring.
It was when he was purposely looking away that he saw two other people he recognized. It was Alexandra's red hair that he saw first, and then Darren. Darren had his hair hanging loose, and it looked like it might be a touch damp. Both were clad in formal wear, Darren the standard gentleman's tux, hugging his trim frame closely, and Alexandra wore a sheath dress that came to mid thigh, the fabric looking black, or showing a hint of dark wine red, depending on how the light hit it. They spotted Michael and Nikita, and headed over.
As if orchestrated, a spot next to Michael and Nikita opened up. Alexandra moved in, and put down some cash to buy chips. Darren said a few words to Michael and Nikita, Alexandra commented, but was clearly focused more on the gambling at the table. Tony smiled. Compulsiveness was a strong trait in Alexandra. While Tony was watching, Darren pressed a kiss to Alexandra's neck, watching her play, and then he looked up across the table, his eye's meeting Tony's. Tony felt his heart stop for a moment. Darren smiled the smile of a man who knows the woman he's with is stunning, and being admired, and then his eye's moved on.
He didn't recognize him. His best friend didn't see him. Tony relaxed. His new appearance was good enough. He did another visual sweep of the room - and spotted his target walk in. Tony pulled his chips out of the game, and left the table. He didn't want to risk any of the four operatives noticing how much he was watching someone else in the room.
Hours later . . .
"They should be here by now," Michael said, glancing out the window of the hotel room. It was second nature for him to check. He was becoming nervous. While Michael had never believed in anything but himself in the past - Nikita believed in intuition. And Nikita just had this gut feeling that Kristie and Stephen had been picked up.
Nikita and Alexandra were sitting on the bed, having kicked their shoes off and sprawling the moment they walked in. Pepe was sitting between them, his body language conveying alertness. Darren was sitting on one of the chairs, sipping on a glass of some kind of drink.
"If they've been picked up, we should be moving," Nikita said, "I doubt they'd break easily, but still . . ."
"Section will know what buttons to push," Alexandra said finishing. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard, "Christ - if they think we're behind Jones' being kidnapped, they won't mess with holding them for long."
"Do you think they just split?" Darren asked, looking at everyone else.
"No," Michael said then, "Not under these circumstances."
Nikita looked at her watch, and sighed deeply, "We can't wait any longer. We have to assume the worst. If we're wrong - they'll contact us somehow. They know some of our contacts."
Alexandra got up, tucking Pepe under her arm, "We have to meet Eric for a supply pick up in 8 hours - here in Rio. We have to stay in town until then. Do we split up and re-meet someplace?"
"I think we should stake out the meeting place," Darren said.
Alexandra took a deep breath, "He wouldn't turn on us."
"He wouldn't turn on you," Darren said carefully, "But we got to him through his staff before. It could be done again."
She nodded, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Ok, Lets go change back into invisible tourist cloths. I hate this not knowing shit."
Eric checked his messages the moment the plane landed. There were three - one of them from the operative who thought he had taken Alexandra's place. Rick was his name. Eric thought of him as Rick the prick. The message Rick left was urgent, and that he had to call back immediately if he wanted to keep operating.
Eric almost laughed out loud. He didn't need Section's permission or help to keep operating. Alex had taught him a valuable lesson when she managed to get to him. He'd never trust anyone again.
Except of course - Alex. That was his only weakness now - and it would always be so. If it meant his death one day - so be it. But somehow life seemed better knowing someone gave a shit if he lived or died. It was just ironic how it was her of all people. Especially considering they were working on opposite sides.
Eric also knew that letting someone like Rick the prick think section had the upper hand gave Eric and edge. So he called him back.
"What's so important," Eric asked, when Rick answered.
"Had any contact with Alex?" Rick asked.
"Not yet, but I'm keeping feelers out. I did agree to let you know if I found anything out," Eric said. He had no intention of telling Rick he knew how to reach Alex, and he was fairly sure that Rick knew that.
"Should she randomly contact you, let her and the rest of the traitors know that we picked up Kristie and Stephen, and we expect to break Stephen shortly," Rick said.
"Interesting, you know I've met both of them before they . . .defected. I wouldn't have pegged either one of them to break easily," Eric replied, "You'll have to let me know if you get a hold of Alex. She and Kristie fed me some bad Intel before they left, and it cost me."
Eric didn't have a bone to pick with either Alex or Kristie, but he lied to keep Rick talking. Information was power, and Rick liked to brag.
"You'll have to wait until you go to hell to deal with Kristie then, her neck was broken when we picked them up. Pathetic way to die," Rick said, "Keep in touch."
The phone went dead. Eric stood there, digesting what he'd just been told. Eric hadn't been close to Kristie, but he remembered when Alexandra had pulled out all the stops to find her friend in the past. The news would hurt Alexandra deeply.
"Damn it," Eric swore, checking his watch. He hated being the barer of bad news.
Seth looked over at Kamel. They, and the rest of the remains of their team, had been assigned to Rick for months. Since Section was scattered to the four corners of the globe in their effort to stay alive and search for Jones and their rogue agents, they'd been on the move almost 24/7. They were just getting ready to move again, and had been told that they'd have new Intel within the next 90 minutes.
"That's our new Intel," Seth said.
"Fuck," Kamel said, "Kristie . . .So Alex is alive."
"Stephen will die before he breaks," Seth said.
"I don't believe they sold us out," Kamel said, "They wouldn't."
"Yeah," Seth said, "Shit, we better find out who did Kristie - and stay as far away from them as possible. Alex will kill them. You know how she was about her friends."
'I need a drink', Alexandra thought, looking around. She was tense. Kristie and Steven still hadn't arrived. She didn't want to think about what that meant.
She'd been nursing a soda for hours. They were meeting Eric in a hotel bar a few miles away from their first hotel. They'd scoped out the meeting spot, looked over all the ambush sites, then they'd settled in to wait, and watch - and worry. Michael and Nikita were on the other side of the hotel lobby, watching. Darren was in other spot with a good view. Alexandra was the only one in plain site.
She saw Eric walk in, and he gestured for his two thugs to move away from him. He had a large duffel bag in hand. He spotted her, and started over, his eye's quickly scanning the room, then coming back to her. Something about his expression bothered her.
"What," she said, "Something's bugging you," Alexandra said, "out with it. Things are not going well."
"I know," Eric said, "Rick the prick called me while I was in the air. I called him back two hours ago when I landed. They picked up Kristie and Stephen."
Alexandra felt her stomach twist, "What specifically did he say."
"That if you randomly contact me - I've maintained the whole time that we are not in contact - that they expect Stephen to break shortly."
Alexandra drew in a deep breath, "In his dreams. Kristie and Stephen won't tell them shit. Maybe now they'll figure out that we're not the ones to took Jones."
"Alex," Eric said, gently reaching across the table, placing his hand on hers, "Kristie's neck was broken when they picked them up. She didn't make it."
Alexandra blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it, and then drew in a deep breath. The world around her seemed to shift, and she could hear the blood pounding in her head, hear the rush of it in her veins. Bile burned the back of her throat.
"Are you sure," she said quietly.
"Rick likes to brag," Eric said, "But he doesn't make stuff up."
"Did he do it?" Alexandra said, "I need to know who I'm going to crucify when this is over."
"I don't know," Eric said, "I'll try to find out. I doubt it - he'd have bragged about it if it had been him."
"I want a name," Alexandra snapped, "if it's the last thing I do, they are going to pay."
Eric saw a rage in Alexandra's eyes that he hadn't seen in years, not since she'd gone after Juan Henry. In that moment, Eric pitied whoever was responsible.
"I'll get you a name - I don't know how, but I will. Section isn't exactly a font of information right now. But what I do have is contact information of the group that probably has Jones - they're looking to recruit your team," Eric told her, "Shit Alex, you're white as sheet. You want a drink?"
She wanted to obliterate her emotions in a bottle of rum and a line or two of cocaine. The craving hit her like a ton of bricks, and she fought with her self to not blurt it out.
"No, not now," she said, "Tell me about this group."
"It's a collection of some small time terrorists, and couple psycho's. If Section, MI-5, the CIA or the Mosaad doesn't take them out in the next few weeks, they'll probably self-destruct on their own. They're that unorganized and fucked up. I've got a name and a contact phone number on a piece of paper in the bag. A few red cell, a few freedom league, black march - there's even some Nazi sympathizers and some Moslem extremist's involved. If they have Jones, you better get him fast. They're close to self destructing now. These people don't play well together. I still don't understand how they got together without killing each other off in the first place."
"Thanks," Alexandra said, "Watch your back. If they got to Jones . . ."
"I know," Eric said, squeezing her hand, "Alex I'm sorry about your friend."
"Feel sorry for the person who did it," Alexandra replied, pushing back from the table. She picked up the bag, her eye's doing one more sweep of the room, and walked out.