Cycles - Part 1/3: The Beginning of the End
Copyright March 27, 2003

Madeline knocked on the Tower door, glancing at her watch. Precisely eight o'clock. She sighed. Some things never changed. But not tonight. Tonight there would be a shift in the orbit of the planet... a shift that would change the path of the future... a shift from which there would be no going back. She pulled her shoulders back and drew a deep breath.

She entered without invitation, noting the soft candlelight, the bottle of champagne chilling, the smell of fine food, the fresh cut flowers on the modern glass dining table... white French tulips, her favorite. She slid her coat off and draped it over the back of one of the elegant chocolate leather chairs that Paul had insisted they furnish with. Quiet jazz played in the background.

As she turned toward the table, Christopher emerged from the kitchen with a small plate of hors d'oeuvres. Her nose twitched with pleasure. Thai shrimp, grilled to perfection, tempted her palate. She chose one and nibbled delicately, giving the chef a nod of thanks. He nodded back, accustomed to her silent treatment. It was gratifying to cook for someone with so much depth of appreciation.

"Good evening, Madame."

"And to you." She knew he needed no compliment, but always deferred to his expertise. "The shrimp... well, really, superlatives are always quite inadequate when it comes to your cooking."

"Thank you, Madame." He gave a small bow, heels together, eyes sharp.

Madeline smiled as he set the plate down and moved off. She had tried, over the years, to get him to call her by her first name, but he had politely refused by simply calling her 'Madame'. In truth, she believed his to be even more of an iron will than Operations'. And that was quite a feat. Christopher and Walter retained the dubious distinction of holding the longest positions in Section, both having been recruited during Adrian's reign.

The atmosphere changed suddenly and Madeline knew that Paul had entered the room. She let him approach from behind, knowing that he liked to catch the scent of her hair, her perfume. She remained relaxed as his hands slid up her arms onto her shoulders, then pulled her hair back gently, his breath warm on her skin. She looked up, listening to him inhale. His lips brushed her neck, then her ear.

"Thank you for coming."

She did love the sound of his voice. That would never change. Madeline turned to face Paul, giving him her full gaze, her own voice smooth and cool.

"What choice did I have?"

Paul looked at her with mock insult as he pulled back. His head cocked to the side as he regarded her with a subtle smile. Two can play any game. It was one of the things that had kept him interested in her for all the years they'd worked together. She was his intellectual equal in every way, a fact that turned him on more than her gorgeous body and huge brown eyes... that, and her enormous capacity for passion.

"Why, Madeline, you always have a choice. You know that."

"And you already know what that choice is. I thought I made myself clear after the episode with Charles."

Paul turned and picked up a shrimp, pulling it off its toothpick and taking it whole into his mouth. As he savored the exquisite flavors of lemongrass, galanga, and fish sauce, he glanced sideways at Madeline.

"Yes, you did. And I haven't pressured you since, have I?"

She nearly laughed out loud.

"Oh, but you have, in every way possible." She reached for another morsel.

Her mind raged at the thought of having to murder her own husband, a kind soul who never wanted to be a part of Section One. He had only signed on because Madeline had been informed that it was the only way to protect him. No one, not even an experienced senior Interpol agent like Charles, was safe from the masterminds at Oversight and Centre. Paul had been jealous from Day One.

"You assured me you wouldn't hold a grudge. I took you at your word." Paul's tone was slightly irritated, slightly authoritative. He popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. He held one out to her. She accepted and they toasted in silence.

Madeline had no illusions about herself. She was able to kill in cold blood, without remorse, but Charles' death somehow seemed like the final "nail in the coffin"... all links to her past were now completely severed... first her Father, then Sarah, then her Mother, and finally, Charles. Paul was truly all she had left, now becoming a luxury she could no longer afford. But, first things first. She sat down.

"Yes... Well..." That was best discussed after dinner. "Shall we eat?"

Paul joined her and their evening took on a familiar feel. They were accustomed to discussing things over food, and both were relaxed as each course appeared seamlessly, one after the other, with perfect timing. When coffee and dessert were served, Christopher took his leave, bowing in response to their expressions of appreciation. At last they were alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Cycles - Part 2/3: Severance
Copyright March 27, 2003

Madeline looked at Paul as he lay breathing softly, dozing in the aftermath of their athletic physical encounter. Nothing like Oriental food spiked with exotic spices, and a good bottle of wine to spark the sensual. She was angry, and ready... She felt in complete control of her future. Everything was falling into place perfectly.

Paul had told her of his plan to ferret out the mole in the Section and her part in it. She smiled to herself as she thought of leading George down the path to glory, only to pull the rug out from under him at the last possible moment. If their suspicions were correct, it would be the crowning touch in his fall from grace, and their rise to power.

Now all she had to do was prepare herself, mentally and physically, to receive and openly reject Paul's accusations that she was slipping, losing her edge. The rift between them would appear to be growing, would quickly become accepted by the Section, then become gossip, then reality. All this would filter back to Oversight, then Centre, and the final pieces of the puzzle would fall neatly into place.

She gazed at the man who had held her heart captive for so many years. If he were not her equal, she would have surpassed him a long time ago. They were two sides of a coin, opposites forged together, impossible to separate, the life of one inextricably connected to the life of the other.

Let the games begin.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Cycles - Part 3/3: Off The Record
Copyright March 27, 2003

George stood outside Mr. Jones office, hand poised. After a moment he decided to continue. His hand rapped quietly and the order to enter came quietly. He stepped through the door, then closed it soundlessly. Taking a seat, he waited while Jones appeared to finish what he was reading.

Jones looked up. He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk, leaning on his elbows, as he peered through the top of his wire-rimmed glasses, his blank stare a perfect mask.

"Yes?"

George looked at Mr. Jones with a piercing eye, his hands betraying his nervousness as their fingers tapped lightly on the arms of his chair. He spoke with deliberate gravity.

"Do you think we did the right thing?"

"Why, yes. Of course... Why do you ask?"

"Because you can see what's happening. I thought you wanted them to remain close, and now there's a rift forming. I believe that she is angry enough to destroy their relationship altogether."

Jones was quiet. He sat back in his chair, regarding George's obvious discomfort. Soon he would be rid of his self-serving power-hungry subordinate forever. He smiled, his eyes narrowing as they seemed to soften.

"Exactly."

FIN * * * * *