Chapter 18

Nikita jumped behind the wheel of her Porsche, breathing heavily. She sat gripping the steering wheel and stared ahead towards the river.

What is this man doing to me? I can hardly form straight thoughts...there is no way I can perform this mission with him! I've got to get myself together...I simply cannot afford to mess up, and end up back at Section. Ohhh...I wish I could talk to someone. Walter...I'll call Walter.

Nikita gunned the Porsche, the tires squealing over the wet cobblestones as she headed back to her flat in Nottinghill. When she arrived home, she locked her door and engaged the security device. Grabbing her cell phone, she punched in the numbers to Walter's personal phone.

"Hello," she heard the familiar sound of his voice.

"Hi Walter."

"Sugar! My gawd...how are you! I was wondering why you haven't called me...they keeping you busy on missions?"

"Yes, well sort of. Oh Walter, it's good to hear your voice!"

"Alright Sugar - what's wrong? I can't see those gorgeous blue eyes, but I can tell by your tone, something is wrong."

"Walter...I...well...I've been demoted to the training center for messing up on a mission."

"So what they have you doing there?"

"Training new recruits in self-defense and munitions."

"Hey, that doesn't sound so bad - anything is better than working at Section."

"Ahhhh, yes...and that's the problem. I've been given a second chance to work in the field on a very complicated mission and...well, if I mess this one up - I'm afraid they will send me back to Section."

"Hey Sugar - you've been on many complicated missions and performed superbly. You just got the jitters cause of one going bad."

"But I have to work with a....difficult agent on this mission...and frankly, I don't think we can pull it off. He's not fully trained and...well, has certain attributes that complicate matters."

"Oh, they got you working with a rookie recuit?"

"Yes...he possesses certain skills pertaining to the mission profile but...he...I don't think I can work with him."

"So tell your supervisors - get another agent posted to work with you."

"Ahhh...my supervisors have decided this one is correct for the assignment. Oh, Walter, I'm sorry to dump this on you...maybe I'm being stupid...or just paranoid about being sent back to Section."

"This agent you gotta work with...he hit on you - that the problem?"

"No! No...not at all! He...he has attitude...kind of smarmy...and I feel he has his own agenda. There is something he is holding back...he's not what he appears."

"Geeze Sugar, I wish I could be there to give you a read on the guy and the situation but...."

"I know Walter, and thanks for listening...I just needed to hear a friendly voice...I miss you."

"We sure miss you too Sugar...Birkoff and me. Hey, maybe if I get some downtime, we can meet for dinner!"

"That would be wonderful Walter...but this upcoming mission is going to take all my time, I'm afraid."

"Well - you keep in touch. And Sugar - you will do fine - you were one of the best operatives in Section. I'm sure anything MI-6 throws at you will be a piece of cake."

"Thanks Walter...and thanks for listening to me."

"Anytime...you take care...bye Sugar."

"Bye Walter."

Nikita clicked off her cell phone and wandered to her window. It had started raining again and the fog was beginning to settle over the city.

She lay on her bed, having abandoned her book; but sleep would not come.

What is the matter with me...I haven't felt like this before...I'm having anxiety attacks...like some threatening forboding!

Nikita rose and wandered into the bathroom, opening a bottle of sleeping tablets. She popped two pills into her mouth and washed them down with water.

Again, she tossed and turned on her bed until finally the drug induced sleep overtook her body.

And now she was running, ever faster, but not escaping the unseen threat in the darkened forest. The trail was rocky, her feet were now bleeding and sweat streaked down her face as she raced through the rain swept cedar trees. She crouched behind a moss covered rock and peered around. Standing in an opening ahead, a woman stretched out her hand to Nikita.

'I am here Niki! I have not forgotten you...and you must never forget me...I will always be in your thoughts, I know...I will always be your mother...'

"You never looked after me! You were a drunk and deserted me! My father didn't want you and neither do I! Stop haunting me! And don't call me Niki! My name is Nikita...remember - you have it to me!"

'You will learn to forgive me Niki...I know you will.'

"NEVER! I HATE YOU!"

Nikita raced from behind the mossy rock and tore down to a raging river. The white water ripped over jagged rocks and as Nikita glanced back, she began to ford the river. The icy current numbed her feet and legs as she tried to pick a route across the turbulent water. She eyed the far shore, but could not make her feet travel through the icy rage. Her numb feet and legs were paralyzed; rooted to the river bottom. The frigid river held her captive as the water rose higher and was now at waist level. Nikita's body began shivering violently as the water continued to rise. Now she could not feel her hands, feet, or legs; her teeth chattered as the cold overtook her inner core. Then she heard a voice calling her name, barely a whisper over the roar of the water. Nikita squinted, trying to make out the figure on the opposite shore. He stood, holding out both hands to her. The man was dressed in black and had shoulder length auburn hair; he beckoned to her, encouraging, enticing. The raging river released her legs a s she attempted to force her body to the shore.

Nikita awoke suddenly, breathless, gasping for air. The sound of rain and hail pounded on the windows as she sat panting, frantically trying to get her breath.

My Lord...what is happening to me! I'm having the same nightmares I had in Section...my mother...the water...but now...who...who was the man?

She staggered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face; she peered into the mirror at the reddened, puffy eyes.

If I fail on this mission and end up back in Section...I will die, I know. I cannot live my life like that again. I must make this mission work...complete the profile...prove I can be a success...prove to my father I'm not a failure. But why? Why should I prove anything to him! Oh my God! I must not fail!.....

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

Chapter 19

The following morning, Nikita spent an hour soaking in her jacuzzi tub letting the hot water wash away the nightmare of the previous evening.

Arriving at her MI-6 office, she punched in the access code but the door was already ajar. She swung it open, to find Michael sitting behind her desk - again.

Nikita scowled, "I told you before Mr. Samuelle - you cannot just walk into my office and make yourself at home!"

Michael rose and walked up to her. "I am sorry, I thought I would get started on the profile before you arrived." He reached to brush a lock of hair from her face. Nikita moved away quickly and sat behind her desk.

"I am in charge of this mission - you will take all your directions from me! And stay away from my computer!"

"You look tired, did you not sleep well last night?"

"What? Ahhhh, I...never mind! Now, pull up a chair and we will go over the logistics and tactical."

Michael walked to the side table and retrieved two cups. "I took the liberty of ordering coffee...you like yours with lots of hot milk and a little sugar, correct?"

"Ah, yes...how did you know...oh, ah, thank you."

Nikita accepted the lidded cup and sipped the coffee.

"Is it acceptable," questioned Michael.

"Yes, perfect. Thank you. Now, I've printed out the intel you need to know about the mission and after we cover the tactical, I want to spend time in TechCom and have you layer our identities."

Just then, Michael's mobile phone beeped. "Excusez-moi," he nodded and walked to the far side of the office. He spoke in a hushed voice, then returned to sit in front of Nikita.

"Mr. Samuelle, no personal calls while we are working! I hope it was important!"

"It was - my manicurist advising of my appointment. I have been having problems with my nails."

"WHAT! Ahhh, yes...I realize that could be a problem! But deal with it on your own time!"

"Excusez-moi," he smiled.

"I don't think this is funny! Now, let's get back to work."

"Your eyes flash such beautiful blue when you are angry."

"I am not angry! Come on, let's go to TechCom - now!"

Nikita and Michael sat side by side in a quiet corner of TechCom as he punched codes into a computer.

"Nee-kee-ta, look closely here and see if you think this identity layering is sufficent."

Nikita had deliberately dressed in a dark, full length dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Michael was dressed in black jeans and a long, sleeved charcoal gray sweater. Nikita moved closer to the screen while attempting not to touch any part of his body. Michael sat back in his chair and stroked his chin with two fingers.

"The profile states we are to go in as brother and sister and work for a British firm called Kitner & Associates; the firm is an internet venture capital company. I have layered out identities to show we come from old English aristocracy."

Nikita smiled, "I don't know about the English aristocracy background - that's somewhat over the top - better change that."

"I don't look like British aristocracy?" questioned Michael.

"No, not really, especially with all your...ah, frenchness."

"My frenchness?"

"Better make us upper middle class, high achievers...and we will have to explain our strange accents by stating our schooling was in different countries."

"Very well."

Michael shifted foward to the computer and his leg brushed against Nikita's thigh. She immediately pulled away and jumped up.

"Ahhh, you keep working. I feel like another coffee, you want one?"

"Thank you - no. But maybe when we go for lunch, we can sample a bottle of chardonney."

"oh...ahhh, I don't think we should...I'll be back shortly."

Just then, an intercom snapped with Madeline's voice. "Mr. Samuelle and Ms. Jones, please come to my office immediately."

Michael and Nikita stood before Madeline in her office.

"I want to discuss some details about your upcoming mission, namely your attire. You are portraying affluent venture capital business people, so you must dress the part. Mr. Samuelle, you will of course be dressed in Armani suits. You arrived here in those, so I'm sure you will locate them in your own wardrobe. You on the other hand, Ms. Jones - we need to do something about your choice of clothing. The type of apparel you wear around MI-6 is not appropriate and particularly the dress you are wearing today."

Nikita felt the heat rising on her neck in embarrassment. She thought she looked okay in the dress. While it had not been her first choice of somethng to wear, it nevertheless served it's purpose in covering as much of her body as she could.

"I have arranged for a couturier to accompany you to purchase appropriate fashionable attire. You will meet with her upon leaving this meeting."

Nikita blushed and bit her lower lip. She felt like a schoolgirl.

"Well, that will be all for now. Mr. Samuelle, you may leave, Nikita - stay."

After Michael left, Madeline motioned for Nikita to sit.

"How did the valentine operative training go?"

"Fine."

"Will he be able to seduce and extract the intel we require?"

"Yes, everything is in place."

Madeline smirked, "How far did you have to take the training - did you sleep with him?"

"What! No! I...I showed him what he needs to know...he will be fine."

"I trust you are not lying to me Nikita. If you think he is not, ah...up to it...I will take his training on personally."

"No, no, he has the technique and skills he requires."

Madeline smiled, "Good. Well, that will be all for now Nikita.:

Nikita slipped through the doors and started to make her way back to TechCom. When she turned a corner, Michael stood waiting. As they walked down the hallway together, he turned to her.

"I think you look beautiful in that dress, but it might prove somewhat too warm for Italy."

Nikita again felt the heat rise on her neck as she blushed.

"Perhaps if you feel a lunch with wine is not appropriate, we can go for a run at our old time of 3pm," smiled Michael. "I find I have some other tasks to perform through lunch and we could meet later."

"Ah, yess, I have an appointment with a couturier apparently, so that would be good. I'll see you at 3pm."

Michael and Nikita stood at the entrance of the MI-6 training center, dressed in running gear. They proceeded with a light jog to the park. Michael kept pace with Nikita and explained how he had been practicing his running. She smiled at his comment. Once they arrived at the park, Michael turned to Nikita.

"Let us take two separate paths leading to the far entrance and race to see who can arrive first."

Nikita grinned, thinking: This should be a piece of cake.

The two set off on separate trails. Within ten minutes Nikita arrived at the far entrance and looked around for Michael. He was not there. She paced up and down and glanced at her watch. Another ten minutes lapsed; still he had not arrived. Now, she was becoming suspicious and again her nagging fears about his possible fake identity surfaced.

Was he playing a game with her or had he gone off for a secret meeting with someone? She recalled the phone call he received in her office from a so-called manicurist. And also the time they had been separated after leaving Madeline's office.

Another five minutes had past when Michael arrived, panting and out of breath.

"I am very sorry, I appear to have got lost in the park."

Nikita looked at him suspiciously, "Lost? But the trails lead to this entrance...." She paused. "....we should start back for MI-6...if you are badly out of breath, we could hail a taxi again."

"No, that will not be necessary. Please we can jog back now."

As they started running slowly, Nikita eyed him and made a decision to perform some off-duty surveillance on Michael Samuelle.

That evening, Nikita sat in her car outside Michael's loft. After two hours crept by, she chastised herself for being so foolish. She could be doing better things; this was a waste of time.

Suddenly, Michael appeared at the entrance to his loft. He hailed a taxi and Nikita started her vehicle and followed the cab. The taxi pulled up to an art gallery on the other side of the wharf district. Nikita parked her car and watched Michael enter the gallery.

Gawd! I wish I had some of the sophisticated surveillance equipment from Section!

Soon Michael exited the gallery with a dark haired woman.

Nikita muttered to herself: "So Mr. Samuelle, you are not just out buying etchings for your loft."

The woman was gesticulating with her hands in a heated argument with Michael as they walked slowly down the street. Nikita followed on foot at a discreet distance, ducking into narrow doorways to avoid detection.

Michael and the woman paused under a street light and Nikita pulled out the night vision digital camera Walter had presented her as a going away gift. She clicked a series of pictures of Michael and the woman.

Just then, they turned, approaching Nikita's hiding spot. She quickly ducked behind a large trash bin. Michael walked the woman back to the gallery and she disappeared inside. He turned, walked to the street and hailed a taxi.

Nikita raced back to her car, gunned the engine and attempted to follow the taxi through the approaching traffic. The cab was swallowed into the night. Nikita cursed and drove back to Michael's loft, and parked out of sight. As she sat waiting for 20 minutes, the taxi pulled up to the loft and Michael exited the cab with an armful of groceries.

Hummm...shopping...that's why I made it back before you. Planning dinner for one or two??

Michael disappeared through the doorway to the loft.

Later, back at her flat, Nikita downloaded the digital pictures onto her own computer and connected into MI-6 databank.

Well, at least I now have an upgrade on my access status. Now just who is this woman you are with Mr. Samuelle?

The intel flashed on the screen: The woman's name was Anna Ilanovic Barnanov. She was a Russian citizen. No further intel available.

The art gallery: The Bressner Gallery, was flagged as being a possible front for the Russian mafia.

Nikita sat staring at the screen.

Oh, Lord...is Michael Samuelle working with the Russian mafia? Why are you visiting this art gallery and this woman, Michael Samuelle???

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

Chapter 20

Nikita had decided to take a taxi to MI-6 headquarters at Vauxhall Cross instead of fighting to locate a parking spot for the Porsche: she had enough stress to deal with.

As she sat in Adrian Maxwell's waiting room, Nikita scrolled on her PDA through the intel she had gathered on Michael Samuelle and also the complete profile she had assembled including logistics and tactical for the upcoming mission. The information, with the exception of the intel on Samuelle, had already been forwarded to Mrs. Maxwell earlier, but Nikita wanted to be certain she had not overlooked any details.

As she sat waiting, Nikita tried to push aside any concerns she had about Madeline finding out about this meeting with Mrs. Maxwell. After all, Madeline had made communication lines quite clear - everything was to go through her.

Adrian Maxwell's assistant motioned Nikita into the office. Mrs. Maxwell was seated behind her large marble desk, flipping through old manila file folders. She looked up as Nikita entered and motioned for her to be seated. Adrian tossed her reading glasses on top of the file folders.

"Good day Nikita. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

Adrian spoke into her telephone, ordering two coffees to be brought in.

"Well Nikita, I have only agreed to this meeting because you stated there was an off-profile parameter you wanted to discuss with me."

Just then, the assistant brought in the coffees and offered sugar and cream to Nikita. He then left. Nikita sipped the liquid and gathered up her courage.

"Thank you for seeing me. I realize it may not be following protocol but I felt you should be made aware of some issues."

"Yes. But before we get into matters, how are you adjusting to your new status...I mean working in the training center and now being re-assigned back to work in the field?"

"I am very grateful to be given another chance to prove I can work successfully in the field. Thank you."

"It has recently come to my attention, that your life has been...ah, well, shall we say, somewhat turbulent."

"Turbulent...I'm not sure I understand..."

"Your childhood - your life in Section One. You have done remarkably well considering the life you had with your mother, and your father...and, well, he must feel a certain amount of guilt for abandoning you as a small child and then placing you in Section."

Nikita's eyes widened. What was this? Where was this coming from? How had she gained personal information about her background?

What Nikita did not know, of course, was Adrian Maxwell had spent two different evenings in the company of Philip Jones, Nikita's father. He had confessed his guilt and his hopes for his daughter. The transfer from Section One to MI-6 had been part of the plan. He only hoped she could perform to standard at MI-6 as her life in Section had been a turmoil of rebellion, some successful missions, many badly executed ones, and incomplete training, owing to her infatuation with her trainer, Ren Deon. Philip Jones hoped Adrian Maxwell would give his daughter one last chance at proving herself.

Adrian smiled at Nikita. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, my dear...but I feel I must let you know - this upcoming mission is indeed your last chance at proving yourself." She sipped her coffee. "Now, what did you want to discuss with me?"

Nikita drew a deep breath. Where was all this coming from? She had come in here, confident and wanting to discuss a mission, and the woman was dumping personal innuendo on her. Why had she delved into her past? Oh my gawd! I have to be successful on this mission!

Nikita looked squarely at Adrian and drew a breath. "Well, I have already forwarded you the mission profile with tactical. Do you have any questions or see any weak areas?"

Nikita held her breath.

"I have read the profile - very complete. You appear to have covered any possible discepancies. You have done an excellent job on this and appear to have a natural ability at profiling."

"Ah, thank you. Well then...there is another issue we need to discuss and that is the indentured agent Michael Samuelle. I have recently uncovered information about his possible involvement with the Russian mafia. I must admit I have been suspicious of his true identity and actions, since I was assigned to work with him in the training center."

"I see. And how did it come to your attention about possible involvement with the Russians?"

"I followed him and identified a contact he made - a woman and an art gallery presumed to be a front for the mafia. While he possesses the technical computer skills for the upcoming mission, I am concerned about his possible background. As you can see in the profile, this money laundering mission in Italy will expose him to many possible scenarios for furthering his own agenda."

Nikita could hear herself speaking the words, confident and professional; but inside she was shaking. She had been a good actress on missions, but exuding confidence to a superior like Adrian Maxwell was another thing.

Adrian rose from her desk and walked to the window overlooking the busy street below.

"I have read the file on Mr. Samuelle...or what we do know of him. He is a con man - very clever...but your suspicions about possible involvement with the Russian mafia, is a puzzlement. Have you discussed this with Madeline Watson-Smith; she is taking on Declan Quinn's cases until he returns from his leave."

"Ah, I...no, I have not advised her. In fact Mrs. Maxwell, she had told me everything is to go through her...I...I probably should not even be here discussing this with you."

Adrian smiled and returned to her desk. "Don't worry, my dear. Madeline would like to have her finger into every department in MI-6. Her post overseeing European operations is a very temporary one. Mr. Quinn will be returning in a few weeks and I will update him on this mission. In the meantime, let me look into who Mr. Samuelle might be and get back to you."

"But the mission is commencing in two days. We are to fly to Rome on Wednesday."

Adrian sipped her coffee and peered off into the distance.

"In fact Nikita...I think you should carry on as planned, regardless of who Mr. Samuelle might really be. If we get lucky, perhaps we can nab a double money laundering operation - Italian and Russian."

"What! But...I have no back-up on this mission...if he has another agenda, it could undermine the Italian mission!"

Adrian Maxwell's mind was racing. She would delve further into Samuelle's background...if he was working with the Russians, it could prove useful. MI-6 had been trying for years to bring down mafia that had infiltrated legitimate British businesses.

"You were correct in coming to me Nikita. I want you to proceed with the mission as planned but keep me informed daily. If there is any concern that Mr. Samuelle will jeopardize the Italian mission, I will inform you. His computer and international banking skills are needed to make the mission successful."

"Ah...yes...I know but...fine. How would you like me to contact you and what about Madeline?"

"I will give you a direct cell feed and leave Madeline to me."

"Yes...ah, to you...right. Well, I guess that's everything for now."

Nikita rose and extended her hand. Adrian shook hands and smiled.

"You will do fine my dear...it's in you...the genes - you will succeed."

Nikita smiled, gathered her belongings and headed for the door.

"Good-bye...I'll contact you when we arrive in Rome."

"Good-bye my dear - good luck."

As Nikita walked from the building, she thought to herself: What is this about genes? The only genes I ever had that worked for me...were Levis.

Nikita hailed a taxi.

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

Chapter 21

After Nikita had left, Adrian Maxwell paced up and down her office, then wandered to the window. She stood watching the traffic below in the street and thought to herself:

This young agent Nikita may have stumbled upon some information about Michael Samuelle that MI-6 already suspected. Was he more than the cyber con man he presented himself to be? Sending her out on the Italian mission was indeed a risk.

Adrian had carefully read Nikita's Section One file; it was a mixed record but her proficiency levels had been 90%; however for Section, that might not have been sufficient. But then their operatives had a greater reason for achieving a high success rate - namely their lives.

When she had met with Philip Jones, she could see the guilt and pride he had for his daughter - it was in his eyes. Still, it was risky sending the young woman out with little back-up, especially with Michael Samuelle, who could very well sabotoage the entire mission in Italy.

Adrian walked over to her desk and began thumbing through the manila files. She preferred to peruse intel in the old fashion way, namely file folders rather than scanning computers.

The information on Michael Samuelle was mixed and confusing: the man was definitely an enigma. His capture and subsequent arrest after returning from the Bahamas to England, had been almost too easy; like he wanted to be caught. She mused:

Almost like he wanted to end up in MI-6. Nevertheless, when he had been arrested, he had no guarantee that would be the result. Still, it was just a little too convenient given his past avoidance from capture.

Adrian removed her reading glasses and reached for her cold coffee.

Perhaps she was putting to much trust in Nikita Jones being able to complete this mission - too much faith - just to placate her father, Philip Jones.

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

Chapter 22

As Nikita made her way into business class on the Alitalia jet, she glanced at her watch.

Where on earth was Michael Samuelle?

He had not wanted her to bother picking him up in a taxi, but had stated: he would make his own way to the airport.

She should have insisted...made him go with her in the same taxi. He was playing head games again...manipulating her...he must have hidden agendas.

Adrian Maxwell had not been able to find further intel on who Samuelle was - other than the con man he presented. No information had been forthcoming on the Russian woman or the art gallery either.

Nikita dropped into the window seat and placed her carry-on luggage under the seat in front. She turned and looked back to the entrance; still no sign of him.

What was he playing at! She could not complete this mission without his computer hacking knowledge...why, why did she have to be partnered with this man!

As Nikita was peering out the window, she detected someone sliding into the seat next to her.

"Hello Nee-kee-ta...how are you today?"

Nikita's head shot around. "Well, you were cutting it a little fine! The plane is about to depart!"

"Sorry...it took longer to arrive at the airport and go through customs. But I am here now."

"Yes...yes...you are...so, ah, are you fully prepped for this mission?"

Michael smiled, "Not entirely. I think you should show me more valentine techniques, especially seduction and extracting intel."

"I don't think I need to show you anything, Mr. Samuelle!"

"And why will you not call me Michael?"

Nikita looked away, then turned back to face him.

"I would prefer to call you Mr. Samuelle, it keeps our relationship on more of a businesslike level."

"But if we go on this mission as brother and sister, it will look very strange, you calling me Mr. Samuelle."

"I'll deal with that then!"

Nikita could feel his closeness; smell a hint of the masculine cologne or soap he was wearing. She drew in a breath.

"Mr. Samuelle, you enjoy toying with me, don't you?" A small smile crept onto his face.

"I wouldn't think of toying with you."

Just then the notice to fasten seat belts and take-off instructions interrupted their conversation. Once the jet was airborn, the steward arrived and took drink orders. Michael watched as Nikita sipped her white wine; he swirled his cognac around his glass.

"Nee-kee-ta - you look enchanting in that outfit. The colour becomes you."

Nikita felt herself blushing and turned to look out the window. The time spent with the couturier had presented Nikita with the latest in fashions requisite for the mission. She was wearing a light suede, knee length skirt with matching vest top, an off-white blouse with corresponding neck tie; her matching shoes were somewhat higher than she preferred and the coat the steward had taken, was a darker suede, complimenting the entire ensemble.

When Nikita did not answer Michael spoke again.

"You look exquisite...the shade brings out the blue of your eyes."

"Look Mr. Samuelle, cut the charm act with me! Save it for the contessa...I'm sure she will lap it up!"

"Ohhhhh...you are angry at me again...I am sorry...it seems to be a recurring phenomenon."

"Just who are you anyway! I know you have a hidden agenda - just who are you!"

Michael sipped his cognac and picked up Nikita's hand.

"I am Michel Therrien Samuelle, indentured con-man." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "....required to work for MI-6 but most happy to be working with a beautiful agent who has the most incredible eyes, silky blonde hair, exquisite skin and amazing..."

Nikita pulled her hand back and endeavoured to move to the far side of her seat.

"Enough! Look, if we are going to work together - cut out all the fake charm act! I don't buy into it - you got that!"

Michael shrugged. "If you wish...but I am finding it very difficult not to be smitten with you."

"Save your smitten-ness for someone else!"

Nikita rose in her seat and attempted to push by Michael without touching him; which was of course impossible. "I am going to find another seat!"

The steward rushed forward and asked if there was a problem. Nikita stated simply: she did not want to be seated next to this man and wanted another seat. Fortunately for the steward, he found a forward seat for Nikita. She sat breathing deeply as the steward brought her wine. She pushed the seat back and closed her eyes.

Who am I trying to fool - myself! My skin is vibrating sitting next to him...it's like pheromones gone crazy...what the hell is the matter with me. I can't possibly be attracted to this man...he's too...too...ah, smarmy! How can I complete this mission feeling like this? Maybe...maybe when we arrive and get into the profile, I'll be able to dismiss this...this feeling...

Michal handed his empty glass to the steward and declined another drink. He sat tapping his chin, then closed his eyes.

Perhaps he had offended this beautiful woman...he was overplaying the charming act. But he found he could not help himself. In fact all the way to the airport, he had been trying to control a growing desire to tell this woman who he truly was. When he was in her presence, he fought constantly to control emotions and an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. He hated lying to her; hated playing the dandy, computer geek...if that was indeed what he was playing. And now this mission...play-acting again. He had truly offended her...and he had promised himself not to be distracted by her! Too many important things depended on him playing his part correctly. Probably a good thing she moved seats; her perfume and closeness had been driving him to distraction. Oh, that this mission were over...complete...so he could confide in her...get to know her! Merde! No! Keep focused on the true objective.

**********

Chapter 23

Nikita and Michael sat together in the taxi as it dodged through the frantic Rome traffic. They had said nothing to each other since arriving at the airport, clearing customs and locating their luggage.

Michael glanced over at Nikita as she stared straight ahead.

"We should meet to go over the intital plans," whispered Michael.

"Yes...we must co-ordinate the tactical," replied Nikita in a husky voice, trying to maintain her composure.

"Where? Your room or mine?"

"I will come to your room. I trust when you changed the hotel booking from what administration had originally selected, you reserved a room with a working area."

"Of course, Nee-kee-ta. I hope you like the Medici Exedra Hotel. I stayed there two years ago when I was...well, shall we saying - working."

"No doubt on someone else's expense account then too."

"Naturellement...at 259 euros per night, it is preferable to have someone else pay."

"What! These rooms are costing 259 euros per night! MI....the administration will never approve that! How did you get them to agree...no never mind...don't tell me!"

The taxi swerved around a produce truck and continued to race down the Piazza della Repubblica towards the hotel. Nikita was thrown onto Michael's shoulder with the sudden swerving of the taxi. She attempted quickly to reposition herself; Michael smiled but said nothing.

The taxi finally arrived at #47 della Repubblica and the Medici Hotel - a five star Italian establishment. As Nikita and Michael stood at the registration desk, a small, spectacled desk clerk looked for their reservations. He looked up at Nikita, peering over the top of his glasses.

"I am sorry madam, we have only one suite booked in the name of Monsieur Samuelle...that would be you monsieur?"

"Yes. But I booked two deluxe rooms - one for myself and one for...ah, my sister here."

"I am sorry sir, we have only one suite booked in your name."

Nikita muttered under her breath: This is a great start.

"I am sure if you check your bookings, you will locate two deluxe rooms - one for me, one for my sister."

The desk clerk smiled and rolled his eyes. "I only wish that to be true, but alas, there is only one suite. It is deluxe with an upper bedroom and the lounge area with a chaise bed. I will make a note to let you know when two deluxe rooms become available. Do you wish the suite monsieur?"

"My sister and I prefer two rooms."

"I realize that sir but you will not have to share a bed, as I stated, there is a chaise bed in the lounge area and a large king size bed in the upper bedroom, and also two bathrooms - the suite is top star deluxe and I am certain it will meet with both of your approvals."

Michael looked at Nikita with a shrug. "It is your decision. We can try to locate another hotel if you prefer."

The desk clerk chuckled to himself, "There are many visitors in Roma today, you are not likely to locate another hotel tonight."

Nikita shook her head, "Fine, we will take the suite for tonight. But put us down for two rooms as soon as they become available."

"Very well," grinned the desk clerk.

The bellman opened the door to suite C712 and ushered in the luggage, followed by Nikita and Michael. The suite was large with an upper bedroom and the entire decor was bathed in soft lighting, warm golden hues, fresh flowers and faint music in the background. A windowed patio overlooked a piazza with the ancient Roman ruins of the Diocietian Baths and the Basilica degli Angeli designed by Michaelangelo.

Nikita drew a silent breath as she took in the decor of the suite.

This whole suite feels like a seduction palace. Just how in the world am I going to spend a night with him in here?

Michael tipped the bellman and when the door was closed, he turned to Nikita who stood looking out the patio window.

"I am truly sorry about this mix-up Nee-kee-ta. I booked two separate room, I assure you."

She turned, walked by Michael and grabbed her suitcase.

"No doubt you did. No problem, it doesn't bother me. We will be working and not here much anyway."

She started up the staircase to the upper bedroom that overlooked the rest of the suite.

"Too bad for you though, I get the bed...you get the couch."

"Absolutely...and again I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Forget it. I'm going to unpack and freshen up...you set up the laptops, then we will finalize the profile. We are to meet the contessa and her husband at a party she is giving tomorrow night. Until then, we must confirm every detail of our cover stories so we can obtain their confidences."

"Yes...whatever you want."

Nikita began hanging her clothing in the wardrobe, then walked into the large ensuite bathroom. She sat on the edge of the jacuzzi tub taking deep breaths.

Dominance...that must be her role with Michael Samuelle...don't give him a chance to play head games...keep him under constant surveillance so if he did have another agenda, he would not have an opportunity to contact or meet anyone. Right...that would be how she would play this. She could do it! And...he did seem genuine about apologizing for the room mix-up.

Nikita changed into blue and white stripped lounge slacks, pale blue tank top and contrasting stripped blue robe. She had pulled her hair up and tied it high with a white ribbon. As she came down the staircase from the bedroom, Michael watched every move as she descended the steps. He put his hand to his chin and swallowed quickly; suddenly his throat was very dry.

What a beautiful woman...such an exquisite face...her body is...no, no....

Michael turned away and strode over to the laptop computers he had set up.

He must fight this distraction...think with his brain, not his....Damn! He was becoming as bad as his friend Peter Gabriel...and look what happened to him.

Michael removed his jacket and sat at the desk, typing codes into the laptop. He felt very warm, the black, thin sweater was perhaps too warm for the Roman weather. He jumped up as Nikita went to the mini-bar and removed a bottle of white wine.

"You want a glass of wine Mr. Samuelle?"

"Oui...thank you...I might change my sweater...too hot for this climate."

Michael pulled out a black t-shirt from his leather bag, glanced over at Nikita who was pouring two glasses of wine, and began to pull the sweater over his head. At the same moment, Nikita turned to hand him a glass: Michael stood with his arms in the air, pulling off the sweater. His muscular arms and chest flexed as he flung the sweater aside and reached for the t-shirt.

Oh my gawd! Here we go again...he is soooo...gorgeous! He definitely works out...

Nikita fought to take her eyes off his every movement, including the tight abs and trim waist. Michael pulled the shirt on and tucked it into his pants, then accepted the glass of wine.

"Merci...bon chance...or, pardon, cheers."

"Cheers! Ah, to a successful mission."

Michael returned to the laptop and Nikita stood behind watching in fascination as he rapidly typed encrypted codes.

"This will set-up direct lines into Swiss, Bahamian, Andorra and Bali banks. Once we have their confidences, then I can bounce the money."

"I only hope it will be that easy. My gut tells me this mission will be more complicated...there are too many variables and the contessa and her partners will be suspicious. We may have to try different tactics."

Michael stopped typing and looked up at Nikita.

"You are a very special person...I mean, an exceptional agent Nee-kee-ta...you don't just go by the book...you have a natural ability to feel the scenario..."

"Oh...ah, thanks...I guess it comes from living in survival mode and having to think on your feet. The agency I came from demanded that."

Nikita wandered around the front of the desk and sat down.

"Ah, look Mr. Samuelle...ah, Michael...I'm sorry I reacted the way I did on the plane...it's just...well, sometimes your actions and...well, you...just piss me off."

Michael smiled. "I have been told I have that effect on people. I promise I will try to be less...what is it...smarmy?"

Nikita laughed. "Good...hey, let's order room service, then go over the whole profile. We must have everything perfect for our meeting with the contessa."

Nikita walked over to the telephone and began calling room service as Michael watched her.

Perfection...oui...you are perfection Nee-kee-ta.

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

Chapter 24

Nikita stood in the on-suite bathroom, peering at her image in the large oval mirror.

The eveing had gone extremely well. They had accomplished a lot...and better still, she had managed to keep her mind on work...and not on letting Michael Samuelle distract her.

She pulled out her toothbrush and began scrubbing her teeth; after rising, she began to undress. She reached into her bag and pulled out a steel blue, silk nightgown, and slipped it over her head. Once again she stood before the mirror and began brushing her golden hair.

Had she purposely selected this sexy nightgown? At home she always slept nude or in just her panties. When she had been with David Majors, he had insisted she wear sexy lingerie, so he could have the satisfaction of removing it from her body.

Nikita removed the silk nightgown and tossed it on the arm of a nearby chair. The hotel had supplied terry towel bathrobes, so Nikita grabbed one and slipped into the oversized robe.

She would sleep in her panties - just like home!

Switching off the light, Nikita made her way to the king sized bed and pulled back the light duvet. She lay in the darkened bedroom, aware of the warm glow of light in the main room below. Michael was wandering back and forth, like a caged animal. Nikita lay under the cool sheets wondering what he was thinking.

Maybe he is nervous about the mission. After all, he has not done anything like this before...mind, his comment to me about being an exceptional agent, while flattering...but his saying that I don't go by the book, that I have a natural ability to feel the scenario. What...what did he mean by that? He has no experience as an agent...maybe being a con man is like playing a role...similar to being an undercover agent...still....

Suddenly the lights went out in the room below and Nikita could hear Michael shuffling around with the bedding on the chaise bed. Then all was quiet. She lay, staring up at the ceiling; the spotlights illuminating the Diocietian Baths in the piazza danced across the wall; a distant police siren wailed into the night. Nikita lay very still, then pulled the duvet off.

Was it hot in here? She could go down and open the patio doors to let in some air; sneak down in her panties and open the patio - no! Put the bathrobe on...hummmm, wonder what he wears to bed...pajamas...underwear...what kind? Would it be boxers or briefs...or maybe nothing. Nik! Get your mind off him! Get some sleep!

Michael turned over on the chaise bed, trying to get comfortable. He pulled the light cover off and let it slide to the floor. He thought to himself:

It was warm in the room...I should open the patio door and let some air in...or find the damn air conditioning and turn it on. Who was he kidding, it wasn't hot in the room, his body was heating up thinking about the enchanting blonde in that big bed up those stairs. No! No, no...merde! Concentrate on the job!

Michael felt his groin tighten as he fought to rid his mind of Nikita's image. He swung his legs off the bed and walked to the patio door, pulling it open a few inches. He felt the cool night air on his chest and legs, as he stood watching the lights sparkling on the water in the piazza fountain. He turned to head back to the bed but stopped as he watched Nikita's shadowy image disappear into the upstairs bathroom. The sounds of splashing water drifted down into the lower room. Michael stood very still, listening...and fighting to remove an imagined vision of Nikita with water trickling down her body. He shook his head and jumped back into bed; pulling the sheet over his head. He lay breathing heavily.

He had been foolish booking only the one suite; what had he been thinking! Not with his brain that was for sure! He must endeavor to get two separate rooms...he could not go through this torment every night!

Nikita returned to the king size bed, her hair damp from splashing the tap water on her face. The room felt cooler now. Maybe she could sleep at last.

**********

Chapter 25

Nikita tossed and turned on the bed as the insistent beeping interrupted her dreamy sleep. She wanted to stay in the land of the dream; to continue feeling the hands of her gentle lover caressing her body.

Her eyes shot open: the mobile phone on the bedside table was flashing a blue iridescence. Her hand reached for the phone as she struggled to focus on her surroundings.

"Hello?"

Nikita sat upright in the bed. "Yes...Adrian, ah, yes, Mrs. Maxwell...yes the *cipher system is in place, we can talk."

"Nikita - you were to report in upon your arrival in Rome - you must keep in contact with me at all times."

"Oh yes, sorry...we had a mix-up with rooms...and, well, everything is in place to meet the contessa and her husband this evening."

"Nikita - some intel has surfaced on Michael Samuelle."

"What! What kind of intel?"

"Not to worry my dear...nothing to interfere with the mission. Just something that slipped out of Interpol. Keep a close eye on his activities. He may have involvement with the Russian mafia as was intitially suspected. Laundering money on their behalf and siphoning U.S. aid funds from Russian banks into the mafias hands."

"Oh my gawd! Why didn't we know this before allowing him to come on this mission?"

"This intel was extracted from secret Interpol files...without their knowledge."

"Surely all international agencies are working together...how could this happen?"

"It does my dear. Inter-agency competition and turf wars."

"What would you like me to do?"

"Complete the mission as profiled. Mr. Samuelle's expertise is required for success of this mission. But you may be able to extract more information from him and what his agenda is by...well, a honey pot."

"....ah, you mean set him up with a valentine agent and have her...."

"No Nikita - I mean for you to seduce him and get Mr. Samuelle to...shall we say pillow-talk."

"No Adrian! I can't do that! Please don't ask me to!"

"He is not that repulsive my dear...as a matter of fact, he is quite handsome...I'm sure the task won't be onerous."

"Ahhhhh, yes...fine...I'll do it my way...find out what I can. But please, anymore intel you receive, let me know right away."

"Of course my dear - good luck."

Nikita closed the phone and fell back onto the bed.

She could not seduce him and remain unemotional...not the way her body and head was feeling. She would find another way of determining his game.

Grabbing the terry towel robe, Nikita made her way down the stairs to the lounge below. She looked around frantically: Michael Samuelle was not here! She raced upstairs and threw on a pair of leather pants and light sweater. As she headed for the door, she grabbed her phone and revolver and tossed them into a shoulder bag. When Nikita reached the lobby, she stood at the desk asking the clerk if Mr. Samuelle had left any messages. He had not.

Nikita walked outside into the piazza. The morning was crisp but the day promised to heat up. She wandered to an outdoor cafe and sat down. The waiter took her order as Nikita pulled out her sunglasses and scanned the piazza.

How stupid not to expect Samuelle to do a runner...he wasn't going to contact anyone sitting in the suite. What if he had done a real runner - disappeared. She should contact Adrian to have a trace put on the implanted thermal tag. Have MI-6 agents grab him, return him to London. But then the mission...she couldn't complete the mission without his expertise.

Nikita sipped her coffee and took another mouthful of granola. She swallowed quickly as a man resembling Michael Samuelle was walking up to a newsagent on the right side of the piazza. Tossing some Euros on the table, Nikita grabbed her bag and darted across the piazza, being careful to avoid detection. She concealed herself behind a large statue and watched. It was Michael Samuelle, dressed in black pants, dark shirt and sunglasses. He appeared to be waiting. Nikita glanced at her watch, then looked up to see a woman approaching: the same dark haired, Russian woman he had met outside the Bressner Gallery in London.

Well, Anna Ilanovic Barnanov...just what do you and Michael Samuelle have to say to each other.

Nikita reached in her bag and pulled out a PPX, a small computer like palm pilot that picked up audio and video and could be transferred to an interpretation computer. She pointed the PPX at the couple. As they were talking a group of street performers appeared and began dancing around the couple. Nikita frantically dashed behind a fruit stand, attempting to obtain a better location. She directed the PPX once more, hoping to pick up the conversation. Then suddenly Michael nodded and walked away, leaving the woman standing watching him. Nikita continued to record the woman's image while glancing at Michael as he made his way back to the hotel.

Nikita opened the door to the suite; Michael stood out on the patio sipping coffee. He turned and watched as she walked to one of the computers and began disconnecting it.

"Good morning Nee-kee-ta. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. I need this computer to send some information to MI-6. I'll do it upstairs."

"I can help you."

"I'm fine...it's confidential - not for your eyes."

"Very well. What would you like to do until we go to the contessa's party tonight? We have covered all the profile parameters."

"I'll let you know. Stay here until I complete this report to MI-6."

"We could go out and view some of the tourist sites - Roma is a beautifully romantic city."

"Yes, I imagine it could be."

Nikita strode up the stairs, the computer under her arm. She walked into the bathroom and booted up the laptop, inserting the PPX chip. The information downloaded: the video was clear enough - the woman and Samuelle, but the audio was distorted. Nikita plugged an earpiece into the computer. Over the hoots of the street performers, she could hear Michael speaking:

'I have told them before - pull me out - I can be more effective at infiltration if I am actually there. This mission only complicates matters if I....'

Michael's speech was distorted by the yells of the street performers. The woman's voice cut in to reply:

'Headquarters wishes you to dispose of the agent you are working with - she is collateral...complete the money transfer as directed....'

'I cannot dispose of her...she...the mission would be compromised...'

'It is as we suspected...you are sexually attracted to her...well then...screw her then dispose of her after the money transfer.'

'No I will not make her disappear...she is an innocent in this affair!'

'Samuelle - you think with your dick! It will get you into trouble - I promise you!'

'This meeting has ended.'

The PPX video showed Michael walking away. Nikita ejected the chip and turned off the computer.

My God! Was he planning on killing her! Dispose of...! Screw her then dispose of her! Well, Mr. Samuelle - I have other plans for you!

***********

Chapter 26

That evening Nikita and Michael drove to the outskirts of Rome; to the Via Lago, an exclusive residential area. They drove along in silence; until Michael glanced over at Nikita.

"You are very quiet. Do not worry, everything will go as planned."

Nikita sighed, "I only hope so." She eyed him suspiciously. "I trust you will perform your role as profiled - no secondary agendas."

"Of course...you sound like you do not trust me Nee-kee-ta."

"Why should I! You are a common criminal - a con man!"

"True. But you must have faith in me...that I am sincere when I state - you can trust me."

"Ha! You sincere! You don't know the meaning of the word. And by the way...this car is over the top! Really - a red Ferrari! MI-6 will go crazy when they see the bill for this car!"

"We must look the part...the credit cards I was issued work very well."

"No doubt! I will look after all hotel and car bookings from now on!"

Michael turned and looked at Nikita; his eyes darting from the road ahead, to her.

"You look enchanting in that dress. You are exquisite."

Nikita was dressed in a full length metallic blue evening gown with a lightweight matching coat. Her hair and make-up were striking. Michael was wearing black formal evening wear, complete with matching coat and silk scarf. Nikita squirmed and looked out the side window at Michaels' remark.

"I told you Mr. Samuelle - save the charm act for the contessa and her friends."

"It is not a charm act - you look amazing."

As Michael steered the Ferrari up the winding driveway to the De Albruzzi's villa, Nikita's mind was racing.

I must keep focused...even though this man next to me, may try and kill me. I need him to execute the computer money transfers...you can do this Nikita...trust in yourself.

After handing over their coats, Michael and Nikita were ushered into a ballroom. At the far end of the room, the De Albruzzi's were greeting guests. Michael spotted the count and contessa first.

"At the far end of the room...the contessa and her husband. Let us make our way there."

Michael took Nikita's arm and they floated through the dignitaries and champagne. Alfonso de Albruzzi spotted the couple and reached to extend his hand to Nikita.

"Ah, and just who is this beautiful couple?"

Michael responded immediately. Jonathan and Katherine Welby-Smyth."

"Of course! The English brother and sister...from London!"

Sophia de Albruzzi smiled wolfishly as her eyes ran over Michael's body.

"Yes, indeed a beautiful couple. Alfonso, we must take this lovely couple to the study before they are snatched away from us."

"Yes, indeed my dear. Our other guests know us and you have only just arrived. Please come with us."

Michael and Nikita were ushered into a large study and Alfonso de Albruzzi motioned for them to be seated in large ornate chairs. The contessa stood to one side, her eyes riveted to Michael.

"May I offer you two a drink...champagne perhaps?"

Nikita smiled. "Yes, that would be very nice."

Alfonso rang for champagne and once the glasses were filled and the butler left, he reached into a teak wooden box and pulled out a cigar.

"Would you like a smoke Mr. Welby-Smyth?"

"Not right now, thank you," replied Michael.

The contessa drifted forward and stood very close to Michael.

"I must apologize for whisking you away so soon after your arrival but my husband and I are anxious to determine if you two can perform the tasks we have in mind."

"Tasks?" questioned Nikita.

Alfonso walked around a rosewood desk, blowing smoke rings up to the valuted ceiling. He smiled.

"Well my dear...a multitude of tasks. Let us not as they say in your country - beat around the bush - you Mr. Welby-Smyth, are somewhat of a computer genius my sources say. We are looking for the appropriate person to do some banking for us...and being that you are both so beautiful...I am hoping you will be hired for the job."

The contessa broke into laughter. "Oh goodness...my husband is so droll. I am sure Mr...what is your first name?"

"Jonathan .Jonathan Welby-Smyth and my sister is Katherine. But of course - you already knew that."

Alfonso began laughing. "Indeed...indeed...but I must say - you two do not look like brother and sister." He took Nikita's hand and kissed it. "You are such a blonde, blue eyed beauty and you, ah...Michael...you look...."

"He looks French...are you French Michael?" questioned the contessa.

"I studied in France. My sister and I do look different...it is rumored our mother had a wandering eye."

The De Albruzzis broke into laughter, then Alfonso lifted his glass. "Let us drink to wandering eyes. My wife and I have a very open marriage and we are hoping you two will be willing to exercise the second part of the task we have planned for you."

"And that would be?" questioned Nikita.

"Oh my dear, you are so direct...you English are sometimes very direct...but your accent my dear has a touch of the far shores...New Zealand perhaps."

"Australia...I was schooled there...my brother was sent to France, I was sent to Australia."

"Oh how wonderful...how charming!" exclaimed the contessa.

Alfonso de Albruzzi returned to his seat behind the large desk. "But we are rushing...you only just arrived...your rooms have been prepared...so enjoy the party then we can have you demonstate you skills Michael."

The contessa's eyes were flashing, as she reached down and ran a hand along Michael's thigh. "Yes, I am sure you have amazing skills, ah....monsieur...."

Nikita watched the contessa, smiling inwardly.

Okay, Michael Samuelle...payback...she will eat you alive...

Michael rose and took the contessa's hand. "Thank you...our schooling has taught us many skills...our lifestyle...other things...and one, being wary of traps. We had not planned on spending the night at your villa but if you want a complete demonstration - we, ah, I will be up for it."

The De Albruzzi's once again broke into laughter.

"Ohhhhhh, I so love the English...so droll and witty...my staff will show you the rooms...tomorrow - business. Now...join the others...the evening is young!"

Michael and Nikita left the study and returned to the ballroom. The party was in full swing; young and old danced, drank, smoked, and ate from lavish silver trays filled with canopies. Michael led Nikita to a corner and sat on a sofa; she paced before him.

"Sit down Nee-kee-ta...everything is going well."

"Right! Why didn't we think about having to stay the night!"

"I am certain the contessa can find you something to sleep in and leisure wear for tomorrow."

"Michael! I'm not worred about what I'm going to wear!"

"Well, surely you didn't think they would invite us to launder their terrorist funds immediately."

"No! Of course not...we must stay one step ahead of them...that's all."

"Don't worry...the count is all talk...I'm sure he won't expect you to have sex with him."

"What! You are the one who better be prepared! Your valentine moves better be ready cause the contessa certainly is...she has your number Michael!"

Michael smiled. "I will take care of the contessa."

***********

Chapter 27

Later that evening, after Nikita had left for her room, Michael escorted the contessa to her drawing room for a nightcap. She handed him a brandy and motioned for him to be seated.

"Jonathan Welby-Smyth...you are an extremely handsome man...but you must know that. As my husband confided earlier this evening, we have an open marriage but what he was not explicit about was the details of the proposed business contract. If we use your computer expertise, that is only one part of the contract...there are other obligations you must fulfil."

"You wish me to sleep with you, correct?"

"Oh I love the directness of the English...right to the point! Yes, correct...and also your sister will be required to have sex with my husband. In fact we can watch them! There are video cameras over his bed. He just loves watching the tapes after..."

"Will he be watching us?"

"Would you like that?"

"I don't know...it feels somewhat like I'm being judged for performance."

"I don't think you will have any problem," leered the contessa.

She rose and knelt before Michael, and began rubbing her hand over the front of his pants.

"I can get you started, if you like," she grinned.

Michael took her hands and removed them; then he rose.

"I am very sorry contessa...I have a confession...you see - I am gay - I prefer men."

"NO! No...you can't be! A beautiful man like you...you are made for women!"

"I am so sorry...but I can't perform at all...a woman does not give me an erection...so...well, what more can I say."

The contessa stormed over to retrieve her drink. "This is terrible! Not fair at all...my husband gets to make love to your sister, and I end up with a....a homosexual!"

"Well, I think I should tell you about my sister...."

".....IS SHE GAY TOO!!"

"No, she is straight, but her drug habit has led to some complications and she contracted a social disease."

"A SOCIAL DISEASE! Like what!"

"First it was just herpes, then...."

"Stop! Stop! I don't want to hear any more! Surely, she's heard of medication for sexually transmitted diseases."

"The drug habit you see...too many drugs...but she is amazing at working with me on the international money transfers...doesn't effect her at all."

"I think I need to lie down, Mr. Welby-Smyth...this has been somewhat of a shock....that's all for now. I should contact my husband before he . however, it would serve him right for the last incident he...! Take your drink and go to your own room...tomorrow...maybe we will do business."

"Thank you."

Michael turned and slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

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

Chapter 28

As Michael was drinking brandy with the contessa, Nikita stood in her room, removing her clothes. The De Albruzzi's had provided her with a black, silk negligee and leather skirt with top for daytime wear. She picked up the negligee and shook her head.

I don't think so Alfonso! But...but if it means completing this mission...maybe I must sleep with him. Ugh! No! I hate the valentine components of missions...!

Nikita slipped the negligee over her head and pulled on the matching lacy peignoir. She studied herself in a full length mirror.

I look like the lamb ready for slaughter....the virgin bride awaiting her groom.

Suddenly there was a knock at her door. Nikita rushed and edged the door open a couple of inches. Standing before her was Alfonso de Albruzzi, dressed in a red silk dressing gown and matching pajamas.

"My dear Katherine...I would like to show you something in my den...please come with me."

He grinned, as Nikita inhaled deeply.

Oh my gawd! Here we go!

Nikita followed the count to his personal den, located off his own bedroom. He ushered her to a purple, velvet chaise lounge.

"You are so very beautiful...such exquisite hands and skin...the English weather must keep your skin looking so wonderful."

"Yes...ah, all the rain. Look Mr. De Albruzzi...I hope...."

"Oh, please call me Alfonso."

"Yes, Alfonso...I only hope you will use my brother's computer skills. He is the best."

"And just what part do you play, my dear? How do you help your...ah, brother?"

"We work together...my brother arranges the transfer of the funds...I set up the hot files, so you can decode them and move money to segregated off-shore accounts."

"Sounds very complicated...such a technical mind-field...but my sources have insured me of your expertise."

"I'm sure you will be pleased with our work."

"Yes...but that is for tomorrow. For now - I have a little surprise for you."

The count reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small piece of crystal glass and a silver container of white powder. He lined the powder along the crystal, then retrieved a small gold tube. He drew the tube along the powder and inhaled into one nostril. Looking up, he offered the crystal to Nikita.

"And now it's your turn...you do indulge, don't you Katherine?"

"Well...I...."

"Oh come now...sex without cocaine is like making love with your...ha - brother!"

Nikita smiled, "Yes...somewhat distasteful."

"Is Jonathan really your brother? You can tell me Katherine."

"Of course he is. We just lived apart for many years."

Alfonso ran the gold tube along another line of cocaine. Here Katherine...you really must try this...it is Columbian, top quality."

Nikita took the gold tube as Alfonso held the crystal with the cocaine. He smiled and nodded at her.

Just then, the door opened; Michael stood in the entranceway, leaning on the door frame.

"Here you are," smiled Michael.

Nikita looked up. "Jonathan!"

"Naughty girl Kate! Naughty girl...you know you promised our parents you would give up that habit."

Alfonso looked suspiciously at Michael. "Hummmmm, if you didn't keep trying to convince me, I would think you are not really brother and sister. Something about the way you look at each other."

"We were very close as small children," smiled Michael.

Nikita got up and walked over to Michael's side. "Sorry Jonathan, I guess I haven't kicked the habit."

Alfonso rose and walked over to Michael. "Well, Mr...ah, monsieur, you may not aprrove of your sister indulging in a little cocaine with me but she has agreed to accompany me to my bedroom."

"Did I! I...ah...I...," stammered Nikita.

"Not tonight Alfonso, not tonight," glared Michael.

"But we were just getting to know each other...becoming such good friends...your sister is extremely attractive."

"Yes, and so is your wife, perhaps you should visit her," replied Michael.

Michael started to lead Nikita out the door, then turned to Alfonso. "Until tomorrow, when we discuss business."

Michael and Nikita entered her bedroom. Michael put his finger to his lips and pulled out a special cell phone and scanned the room for listening devices.

"Clear - no bugs."

"I don't know whether to thank you or not," said Nikita.

"Would you really have taken the cocaine?"

"No, I wouldn't. I've been in a situation before involving heroine and managed to get out of taking it. But you know Michael, being a valentine op sometimes means having to sleep with the perp."

"I thought you found it distasteful."

"I do - I hate it! I detest it! But it goes with the job. And if the mission is jeopardized becasue we haven't performed as valentine ops...it's...it will be your fault!"

"Don't worry Nikita...the mission will not be compromised. The De Albruzzi's greed exceeds their sexual appetites."

Michael walked slowly up to her and ran his fingers down her arm.

"You should not have to defile your body with someone you find distasteful."

Nikita shivered under his touch and looked into his eyes.

Could she trust this man....truly trust him?

"Ahhh...how close do you think we are...do you think they will use us for the money transfers?"

"We can push more...I'll give a demonstration tomorrow...hopefully that should convince them. You better get some sleep Nee-kee-ta."

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her forehead, then turned to leave.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight Michael."