Stephanie looked into the mirror and sighed. She was five feet, eight inches tall and had auburn hair that was waved in a long bob. She was still thin, but she supposed her waist would never be 20 inches again, not after the baby. She also supposed she should quit calling little Sean, the ‘baby.’ He was four years old, and old enough to have insisted that she stop using the pet name.

They had taken one of their solitary visits to the zoo. Sean was very fond of the polar bears and had tried to climb over the rail. She had made the mistake of saying, “Baby, don’t do that. Come down this instant.”

“Stop calling me that!” He had been so cute as he stomped his foot and shook his curly auburn hair. Then he gave a nimble jump, stood in front of her with his fists on his hips and glared at her with the crystal green eyes of his father.

Except for his eyes, Sean looked like Stephanie’s side of the family the Fogherty’s--red hair, fair skin and freckles that were just starting to be noticeable across the bridge of his nose. His flare for athleticism was a little frightening. He had walked at eight and a half months, and there had been no stopping him since. He climbed, jumped and begged to take karate classes. She supposed the athletic ability came from Michael, because she was certainly a klutz at anything related to sports.

Michael is coming home this evening, she thought. He had been on a business trip for the last three weeks, with only a weekly call to see if Sean was all right. When she considered the argument they had before he left, she was surprised to hear from him at all. He had left in a cold fury after her constant nagging to have another child.

“But, Michael, Sean is four years old. He should have a brother or sister. I came from a big family and I loved it,” she had protested.

Michael had turned away from her, but she could see that he was having difficulty maintaining his usual controlled demeanor. “No. No more children. We shouldn’t have had Sean. My business is too uncertain at this point. I don’t want to discuss it any further.”

She had not been able to stop herself from arguing with him. Finally, he had begun to pack for his trip and ignored her. By the time he had left, he had been so upset she could see his body tremble with anger. He had never raised a hand to her. No, Michael was too controlled for that type of display, but his coldness scared her more than his anger. Her father had not been above giving her mother a smack once in a while, but there was a blank look that came to Michael’s eyes that was terrifying. It hinted of things she never dreamed, of danger and darkness of the soul.

Michael had seemed so different when they had first met at the art gallery. She had attended the opening of her close friend, Chloe’s dazzling geometric paintings. The canvasses had glowed with color, order and precision. Michael had been admiring one of them and had asked for an introduction to the artist. He had been charming and discussed the work with intelligence and a keen insight of composition and form.

Stephanie had thought he would be attracted to Chloe, who was petite with long dark hair and darker eyes--most men were. However, at the end of the evening, Michael had stopped her as she was about to leave and asked if he could take her to dinner.

She remembered looking into his crystal green eyes and melting. “Yes, I’d love to,” she had managed to say without gushing. He had handed her his card, Michael Samuels, Art Dealer, it had said.

“Good, Stephanie, then I will need your telephone number and address. Will you be available tomorrow night?” he had asked with his sensual, accented voice.

The rest was a dream. They had had a whirlwind courtship. Her family liked him, in spite of his not being Irish, he was at least a Catholic. Their wedding had been family only, but that included over two-hundred on her side alone. Michael’s family had not been able to come. He had no brothers and sisters, and his mother and father were deceased. His remaining relatives had not desired to make the trip from France for the wedding. It hadn’t seemed so odd at the time, but now his lack of family disturbed her. There had been wedding presents from the French relatives, but there had been no correspondence from them since. She supposed that customs were different in Europe than in America.

Anyway, Michael was coming home tonight, and she was certain that all would be forgiven in a passionate reaffirmation of their love.

***********

“Damn it, Michael! Your split personality is going to drive me insane. Asking me never to leave you, then you turn around and pull a disappearing act, without so much as a screw you!” Nikita felt like throwing something, but every object in her apartment was too precious. They had all been touched or seen by Michael.

Nikita looked around her apartment and knew that she had rushed out of Section too hastily. Section held the information she wanted on Michael’s whereabouts. If Michael had already left, there was no way to follow him. She knew her computer access at home would not allow her to trace him, but maybe Birkoff would help her, if she put the challenge to him the right way.

Birkoff had already given Nikita’s message to Madeline, who had merely thanked him for the intel. Madeline had not appeared too concerned that Nikita would actually kill Michael, and even Birkoff doubted that Nikita could find Michael, unless Michael wanted to be found. He guessed, that was always a possibility, but surely Michael would have left Nikita a message, if he had wanted her to know where he was going.

“Birkoff,” Nikita’s throaty voice came over his comm set. “I want you to do me a favor. I mean. I don’t know if you can even do it or not, but I need your help.”

“Uh, oh. What now, Nikita? First you leave me the privilege of telling Madeline you were going to kill Michael. Have you killed him, and you want me to break ‘that’ news to Madeline?” Birkoff was shoving an Oreo into his mouth. Why couldn’t Nikita act like the other operatives and go on missions, kill people, and keep out of his hair.

“I need to know where Michael lives, Birkoff. That’s all. I only want to talk to him. You know I wouldn’t really kill him, although I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit.” Nikita’s voice took on a wheedling tone, then a tougher tone as she thought about ‘roughing him up.’

“No way, Nikita. Only Operations and Madeline have access to that intel. on the Class Five operatives.” Nikita always wanted something she had no business having, he thought. He was still of the opinion that Michael would be in big trouble, if Nikita found him while she was still upset.

“Now, Seymour, I need to know.” Nikita began to wheedle again. “Michael said certain things to me, and now he’s disappeared. I need to know what’s going on with him. I really need to know, but if you can’t do it, you can’t do it. I understand.”

Birkoff caved. “All right, but this is the last favor, Nikita. I mean it, the last!”

Birkoff’s fingers flew over his ergonomic keyboard. “Nikita, sign off, and sign back on and there will be an addition to your private menu. Lord Byron is the name of the file. Once you have the address, sign off again. I will erase my tracks and yours. Got that?”

“Got it. Thanks, Birkoff.” Nikita signed off and on as he had instructed. A flashing letter icon told her she had email. The total inability to leave an email unopened was one of Nikita's curses. She opened it. It was from Michael, short and sweet, 'Be Patient.' "Damn it, Michael. Not again. Not again."

She opened the 'Lord Byron file and printed out the address. "You're gonna think be patient, Michael, when I find you.!" With little deliberation, she grabbed her silver jacket and ran from her apartment.

Birkoff wasn’t sure Nikita would thank him when she found Michael. He hadn’t given her access to the entire file, just the address; however, he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to snoop further. No, Nikita was not going to be happy when she found Michael.

*********

The wind swept through Michael’s wavy hair as he drove ‘home.’ He wished the wind could blow the images of Nikita from his mind. It was becoming more and more difficult to change from Michael Sameuellle, class five operative of Section One to Michael Samuels, the art dealer, who didn’t spend enough time at home, according to his wife of five years.

As a courtesy, he had called Stephanie to let her know he was coming. What he had not told her was that he would be staying for a ‘while.’ He presumed she would be happy with his decision to join the family business. His deep cover mission had lasted too long and had become impossibly complicated by the child he had with Stephanie. He had never intended any of this to happen.

Simone had been livid, when Michael had told her he had to marry a civilian as part of his deep cover.

“You’re already married to me! I understand when you have to seduce someone for a mission, but this is long-term, Michael. What if you fall in love with her?”

Michael had done all he could to reassure her. He had gathered Simone into his arms, and told her he would never love anyone else, that his heart belonged to her alone.

Simone had nonetheless challenged Operations about the scenario, and within a couple of months, the problem of Simone was moot. She was dead, or at least Michael had thought she was. Operations knew she had been captured by Glass Curtain, who tried to ransom her. Glass Curtain had held her prisoner for another three years, years that Michael grieved.

He had been given Nikita as his material and had begun to recover from his grief, when during a mission to infiltrate Glass Curtain, Nikita had discovered Simone was still alive. Simone had died at the end of that mission by destroying the Glass Curtain compound and its leader. Again, he grieved, and again it was Nikita who helped him. The true torture had been when he was with Stephanie and not being able to express that grief. That was when the splitting in two process had first begun.

Infiltrate the Fogherty’s, had been his deep cover mission. The Irish family had ties to an extreme branch of the IRA, and Michael needed to access their files and network of contacts. The fact that he was not Irish prevented the Fogherty’s from trusting him with their business; however, the much needed offer to join them had been extended a month ago. Operations had been delighted beyond description.

“I told you this would work, Michael. It takes time to really set the hook.”

Then the recent murders and the order for close quarters standby had interfered with his accepting the offer. Michael hoped it wasn’t too late. He needed to complete this mission before he could commit to Nikita, and he hoped to do it in less than three months, much less.

His relationship with Stephanie was on shaky grounds, and they argued whenever he was at ‘home.’ She wanted another child, and he didn’t. He was still uncertain how they had conceived Sean, because he had never failed to take precautions. Yet, still there was his son Sean, clearly his son by temperament and the green eyes they shared.

He had not been able to resist loving his child. He had no idea what would happen to Stephanie and Sean after the mission, but he hoped he would be able to disappear from their lives without a trace. He hated the thought of deserting his son, but Michael knew the quicker he was out of Sean’s life, the safer the child would be.

This first time he had returned home with a bullet wound, he explained it away as having been mugged while in Paris. The second time, Stephanie asked no questions, but had looked at him in a new way with caution in her eyes.

As his trips ‘buying art’ had taken him from home more frequently and for longer periods of time, Stephanie’s complaints increased, then ceased. It was tearing Michael in two, loving Nikita and not being able to share his heart and soul with her in the way he wanted, and coming home to make love to a woman he didn’t love and would never love.

Michael drove around the city by-pass twice, trying to summon the persona of Michael Samuels. Finally, Michael knew he would have to go home anyway, whether he could suppress the images of Nikita or not.

Michael drove into his driveway and looked at the trendy two-story house Stephanie had insisted on buying. Arched windows a la Palladio, and an intricate roof line made an attractive and expensive house. He parked in the paved driveway, took a deep breath and turned off the ignition.

He watched Stephanie come flying out the front door to greet him, then hesitate to gauge his mood. He gave her a half smile to encourage her. He had to complete this last part of the mission, and he needed a happy wife in order to do it.

She threw her arms around him, and he returned her hug with all the enthusiasm he could muster and kissed her on the lips.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. Please forgive this nagging wife,” she whispered in his ear.

“Nothing to forgive, Steph. I’m sorry, too. Where’s Sean?” he asked, knowing he could embrace his son with true emotion.

“I sent him to mother’s when you called. He’s going to spend the night there,” she said softly in a voice rich with the suggestion of the night to come.

***********

Nikita knew she had started at least an hour behind Michael, but at least she knew where she was going. From the address that Birkoff had given her, she knew that Michael lived in a nice little affluent, bedroom community an hour and a half from Section One. Nikita pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the speedometer said 90mph. What the hell, she thought and floored it. The interstate was straight, and rush hour wouldn’t begin for another hour. 100mph and Nikita was flying along in the small black Porsche with her radar detector activated.

Due to Michael’s hesitation in returning home and Nikita’s rush to find him, she was less than five minutes behind him, when she turned into a street that was perpendicular to Michael’s house. She looked at the attractive new houses. Section One must pay its C5 ops pretty well, she thought. She saw Michael’s Mercedes sitting in the driveway, and then noticed that Michael was still sitting in the car. She couldn’t believe her good luck.

She watched in disbelief as the front door opened and a beautiful redhead flung her arms around Michael and gave him a welcoming kiss. What was worse, Michael returned the kiss, and they walked into the house together. Nikita’s mouth hung open and she began to tremble. This was Michael’s big secret. This was the reason he couldn’t tell her what she needed to hear yet, except the SOB had told her ‘what’ she needed to hear earlier that very day as he carried her to MedLab.

The treacherous, two-faced, lying SOB had told her she was his life and his reason for living. Nikita banged her fists on the steering wheel. “Michael, now I really will have to kill you,” she said softly.

Nikita looked around the smart subdivision. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene and bring attention to herself. What if it were a mission? Right, a mission, but if it were a mission, why wouldn’t he have chosen her for his partner as he had before? Question after question crowded her mind until she thought her head would explode. She was powerless to leave. She had to sit there until she was sure.

Dusk began to descend, and the early fall colors started to dim on the young hardwood trees scattered throughout the trendy neighborhood. The darker it became, the deeper Nikita’s despair grew until the hot angry tears spilled down her face. She let them fall, not bothering to wipe them. There would only be more tears to follow.

By the time the night time darkness was complete, Nikita knew what she must do. It was reprehensible, but she was going to spy on them. Well, she was a spy, sort of, anyway, and that’s what spies did. She would leave her car, and using all her training and stealth, she would peek in a window, but her plan was foiled, when security lights all over the neighbor hood were activated.

“Damn, yuppies!” she said. She needed surveillance equipment, something she had not foreseen, when she had rushed headlong from Section in search of Michael. She would have given almost anything to have a tracker on Michael like he’d placed on her when she was seeing Jurgen. “See how you like having your privacy invaded, Mr. Suburbia!”

Nikita sat long into the evening. The car was chilly, but she didn’t want to start the motor. She could see movement in the house, as they moved from one room to another, but then the interior of the house was suddenly dark. Time for beddy-bye, Michael? Nikita sighed, for she had no more tears. With one reluctant move, she started the ignition and decided to go home.

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

Operations paced in Madeline’s office, smoking his ubiquitous cigarette. He had not been thrilled to hear of Nikita’s quest. “What do you mean she’s gone looking for Michael? You think she can actually ‘find’ him?”

Madeline gave Operations a cool glance. “It’s possible, if she has help.”

“She’ll blow his cover. The last thing we need right now is for Michael’s cover to be blown. She’s a wild cannon. How could you allow this to happen, Madeline?”

Madeline never took offense when Operations used an accusatory tone with her. She understood his frustrations with Nikita and the relationship that continued to deepen between Nikita and Michael.

“It may be a blessing in disguise. If Nikita finds Michael, she’ll find that he’s been deceiving her for a long time on the most basic level. I think that the knowledge of Michael’s deception will destroy any trust that exists between the two of them. Nikita is too smart to blow Michael’s cover. She will retreat, suffer her disappointment, and emerge stronger for herself and for Section..”

“And that will give Michael time to complete his mission with the Fogherty’s.”

“Yes.”

Operations moved closer to Madeline with look of admiration, and perhaps something else, on his face. “I have to say, Madeline, that you consider all the angles.”

Madeline smiled, “That’s why I’m here.”

“Dinner tonight, Madeline?” he asked softly.

Her response was soft as well, “Not tonight. I think we need to be careful, don’t you?”

Operations emitted a sigh of frustration, “Of course.” He turned and walked to the door, but stopped as if to say something, then shook his head and left Madeline’s office without saying another word.

***********

All through the evening Stephanie had made nervous small talk, as if consciously avoiding the problems between them. She watched Michael as he built a fire in the fireplace. The crackle and scent of the hickory logs brought back memories of happier times with Michael, times when she had been certain of his love and devotion. Michael had been a tender and passionate lover, her only lover. She had been raised in a strict Irish Catholic family, and difficult as it had been, she had remained a virgin until she had met him.

Michael’s sensuality had ensnared her. His touch, his eyes, and even the way he moved had set her on fire early in their relationship. She had not made it to the altar in a virgin state, and their first union had been tumultuous and exalting for her. The state of their relationship now made Stephanie want to dissolve in tears, but Michael hated tears, like most men.

Stephanie sensed that Michael was avoiding discussion of their issues as well. While he had never been an outgoing and talkative man, the mask of silence that Michael had worn since dinner was a new one. There had been no discussion of where he had been and no pretenses about buying art for galleries. Stephanie was uncertain what Michael really did, but was sure it was illegal and dangerous.

Michael turned from the fireplace and said in a soft tone, “I’m not going to be leaving again. Your Uncle Liam has asked me to join his firm. I thought you might like that, if I did.”

“Oh, Michael!” Stephanie squealed. “That’s wonderful. I love you!” She threw her arms around him as he knelt before the fireplace and knocked them both to the floor.

Stephanie’s breath and lips were warm on Michael’s neck, but the thought of another’s lips and warmth lingered in Michael’s mind. He knew he had to go through with the charade of portraying the loving husband, and as his hands automatically caressed Stephanie’s breasts, he thought of a pair of slightly smaller, rose-tipped breasts whose owner possessed his heart.

Before the crackling fire, Michael made love to Stephanie, all the while knowing he dishonored all three of them with his visions of Nikita. When he climaxed, it was all Michael could do to keep from calling Nikita’s name, but his control held; and once again Michael felt the shame of using his body to manipulate an innocent woman, while loving another.

***********

Nikita ambled into her dark apartment and flicked the light switch by the door. It was very late, she guessed, and she was tired to the bone. The day had started with her being kidnapped by a serial killer, a timely rescue by Michael, who had told her all the things she needed to hear, and ended with a devastating finality. She had ‘found’ Michael, a Michael who lived in the suburbs with his wife.

Everything she previously knew and believed about Michael was a deception, a Section One smoke screen. She thought she had been manipulated for the last time by Michael, but she understood now that manipulation was an essential part of Michael’s being.

Nikita began to remove her clothes. She wanted a shower and to sleep for a hundred years, sleep without dreams of a green-eyed Adonis. “’Sleep, dreamless sleep that knits the raveled sleeve of care.’ Old Will really knew what he was talking about,” she said aloud.

She turned on the shower, let it run till hot and stepped into the tub. The water sluiced down her body, the welcome heat comforting her sore muscles. Until that moment, Nikita had not noticed the muscle aches that had resulted from lying on the floor, bound hand and foot for hours, until Michael had rescued her. She wondered why he bothered. She wished he had let her die. Death would be preferable to the pain she felt. Death of an illusion, the death of her dreams all in one shattering scene, because the mysterious and elusive Michael was married.

Nikita knew she had been only one more of Michael’s conquests or manipulations. It didn’t matter which, the result was the same. She had been the means to an end. What end? Who knew what part of a Section-driven plan she had been. First, Madeline had seemed to encourage their closeness, then had spent the last year trying to drive a wedge between them and destroy the trust they tried to build.

As she stood in the hot, soaking spray of the shower, Nikita could not avoid remembering the night they had spent on the boat in Lyons. Michael’s passion and strength had erased all her bad memories, and given her new ones. His need and desire for her made her feel complete for one time in her young life.

Now, she could finally admit to herself that it had probably been a plan to bring her back to Section, and she had fallen for it. She had jumped at the chance when Michael had found a way. True, he had saved her life on the Freedom League mission; but had he really, or was that part of the plan to gain her trust and then destroy it later in one grand display.

Nikita decided it really didn’t matter. Over is over, she thought. She hit the shower button, and the water stopped. The bathroom was warm and filled with steam as she stepped from the tub to the tile floor. The shock of the cold tile sent cold shivers down her back. She threw on her lilac robe and wrapped a towel turban-style around her head. She didn’t want to leave the bathroom and go to the bedroom where only a few days before she and Michael had made love. There were too many memories in the apartment, she decided. She needed another change of scene, but lacked the energy to do anything but fall onto the bed in an exhausted heap.

**********

As the fire began to die, the nighttime autumnal chill began to seep into Michael’s body. After their lovemaking, Stephanie had fallen asleep in his arms. Michael was torn between a wife, who had given him the only semblance of a normal life he had ever known, and an existence of ever-present danger with the woman he loved, Nikita.

Initially, Stephanie had been part of his mission. Prior to that, he had seduced many women over the years, and loved only one, Simone. As long as Simone had been alive, Stephanie had remained a charming bedfellow; but he had never conceived that she would be anything more than a way to infiltrate the Fogherty IRA connection.

After Simone’s death and the miserable months that followed, his deep cover life had become a refuge from Section One. The split between emotion and Section became wider. When Nikita had been given to him as his material, working with her had been his refuge from his life of deception with Stephanie. His attraction to Nikita was undeniable, in spite of his attempts to put her out of his mind. Nikita was there every day, challenging the rules and his control.

Then Stephanie had become pregnant with Sean. Michael had initially been enraged with her, and then fearful for the child, who would have the potential to become a pawn in the dangerous double life he led.

The rift between Michael and his wife grew as she grew large with the child. He was no closer to infiltrating the clannish Fogherty’s than he had been at the time of their marriage. Operations had not allowed him to sever all connections and disappear.

“You’ll have to continue, Michael. There’s no other option. You knew going into this that it would take time to become trusted by the Fogherty’s. So I suggest you go back to your little wife and pretend to be a happy camper about the new baby.”

“What about the baby? What happens when this assignment is completed?” Michael had agonized.

“You should have thought about that ‘before’ you impregnated your wife. You know we can’t make that decision until it ‘is’ completed, Michael. Don’t make the mistake of becoming too attached to your life in suburbia, Michael. It won’t last forever.” Operations had given Michael a feral smile.

“I’m not attached. I want out now!”

“No, Michael. That is all. You’re dismissed.”

Michael had spun on his heel and left.

The memory of that scene with Operations still made Michael tense. Stephanie, in her sleep, felt the change in his body position and opened her eyes.

“Mmm, it’s getting cool. Want to go upstairs to bed?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Michael said as he wrapped an afghan around them. As they climbed the stairs together, Michael told himself that Stephanie deserved a better husband and didn't deserve what might happen when the mission was completed.

Upstairs, Stephanie watched Michael’s deliberate movements. He had covered her body with the down comforter, and walked to the window and stared into the night. As the moonlight illuminated his muscular body, she was reminded of Michelangelo’s David. The planes and ridges of his muscled back never failed to inspire her passion.

“What’s wrong, Michael? Come to bed.”

Michael turned toward her, she thought she could see his eyes glistening brightly in the moonlight. “Michael, are you okay?” she asked.

In one graceful motion, Michael slid beneath the comforter. “I’m fine.” he said, then turned his back to her.

Stephanie turned her back to him in order to hide her puzzled tears. She was certain that Michael was hiding something. Earlier their lovemaking had been wonderful, to her. She wondered, not for the first time, if it meant the same to him.

***********

At 9AM Nikita entered Section One. Her dark sunglasses hid her swollen, red eyes. She wore a man-tailored black suit. She decided she might as well dress in black. She was mourning the death of her relationship with Michael. As she walked past Comm, Birkoff waved.

“Hey, Nikita. Did you find, Michael?” he asked, glad that there was no one else in Comm. at the moment.

Nikita stopped and gave Birkoff the stare, although hidden behind her shades, it lacked its usual intensity. “Yeah, I found Michael.”

As she turned to leave, Birkoff asked, “Well, is he still alive?”

“Very!” With that brusque statement, Nikita turned and left Birkoff to his computers.

“Oooh, I guess she did find him, after all.” Birkoff shook his head.

* * *

Madeline looked at the operative in front of her. Dark shades, black man-tailored suit presented the female version of Michael. “What is it, Nikita?” she asked, as she observed Nikita for signs of agitation or anger.

“I want you to know I found Michael. Never mind how. I also want you to know, that I would prefer not to be sent on any missions with him. I understand that if there’s no other choice, I will function as ordered, but I would ‘prefer’ never to have to be on his team again.” Nikita, once she had started, found it difficult to stop.

“This place, this Section is unbelievable. First you encouraged our relationship, then tried to stop it, and all the time he’s married to some little redhead in the suburbs. I will never understand how you can twist our lives and our minds with so little regard as to what it does to us individually. Oh, I know all about “We’re not here for each other” and

“Keeping focused on the big picture.” I’ve heard it until I’m sick of it. We’re human beings, granted we’re flawed ones, but we still feel pain, Madeline. Oh, god, Madeline, and it does hurt.” Nikita bent over the edge of the desk and sobbed, not caring for once that Madeline was seeing an honest reaction from her, not caring that Madeline was already chalking this up in her Nikita file as a weakness.

Madeline rose from her chair and placed a hand on Nikita’s shoulder. “Then I won’t repeat what you already know, Nikita. I can’t speak to what is in Michael’s heart, but there is a bond there. It’s not one-sided. What you have to decide, is can you get past this breach and continue to function? Rushing out and swearing to kill Michael is one thing, but can you perform, even if you are on a mission with him? Will your feelings affect your judgment or the mission? Take some time to consider, Nikita, and let me know. I think you’re strong, and I think you can overcome the hurt.”

Madeline’s voice had been gentle and understanding, but underlying the kindness had been the steely reminder of a threat. Nikita knew if she couldn’t function, she would be canceled.

Nikita summoned her inner strength and said, “Thank you, Madeline. I know what I need to do now.” At Madeline’s sharp look, Nikita said, “No, not that. I’ll be fine.”

“I always thought you would, Nikita.”

***********

A companionable silence reigned at breakfast. Michael was in his quiet mode again, Stephanie mused. She decided not to press him about anything. Shortly after they had cleared the breakfast dishes, a dark green Mercedes pulled into the driveway, and its driver tooted the horn in greeting. Stephanie’s mother Moira stepped from the car and made way for the energetic little boy who was running up the sidewalk before she could shut the car door.

“Daddy, Daddy!,” he shouted as he ran through the house to the breakfast room.

Michael felt his heart lurch in his chest as his son ran into the room. The child jumped into his arms, and Michael was the recipient of a strangle-hold hug.

“Whoa, there, Sean. What have you been doing, while Daddy was away? Are you taking karate yet?” Michael sat on the floor with Sean in his lap to hear the coming recitation of events in his son’s life. Stephanie watched Michael’s interaction with their son and had no doubts about his love for Sean.

“Well, we went to the zoo again. I made Mommy stop calling me baby, and no, Mommy says you have to take me to karate. I rode my bike down the street and Mommy came hollering at me to come back. I climbed the tree next door, and I was sorry when it broke down. Mommy said it was to small to climb. Jimmy had a birthday party. I ate too much ice cream ,and I threw up all over Jimmy’s sister, but she’s a silly old girl, so I don’t care, if I did.”

Michael’s chest felt like his heart was expanding, leaving him no room to breathe. He hugged Sean to his chest and ran his fingers through the curly red hair. He didn’t how long he could maintain the pretense with Stephanie, but his feelings for Sean were true and overwhelming in their intensity. He wanted to protect his son from all hurt for all time, and he knew he couldn’t.

“Daddy has to go see Uncle Liam today. Do you want to go with me?” he asked.

“Sure!” Sean responded. “I have to get my fire truck. Uncle Liam hasn’t seen it.” Away he ran. Sean never walked when he could run, and he never sat when he could stand.

Michael laughed and asked, “Is he like this all the time?”

Stephanie laughed too, “Pretty much, except when he’s asleep.” She continued,

“Are you sure you don’t mind working for my family? Do you think it will be ‘better’ than your other job?”

Michael still sat on the floor and looked at Stephanie with his intense green eyes. “Yes. It will mean that I will be home a lot more often. There may still be some travel, but not as much.”

Stephanie sat on the floor next to Michael. “Well, that’s good then.” Stephanie hung her head, unable to face him and said, “We both miss you when you’re not here, Michael.”

Michael placed his arm around his wife, and said “I miss you, too.” His tone didn’t sound convincing, and he wondered if she could sense the loneliness that invaded his heart.

***********

Liam Fogherty was a tall man and broad with his Irish heritage written over his entire face. His once auburn hair had faded to a buff color, but the blue eyes still twinkled. In spite of his benign and hearty appearance, he was a dangerous man to cross. Irish temper notwithstanding, he was a member of Eire Fein, an extreme branch of the IRA. Anyone who betrayed him or his cause would receive a death sentence, even his young niece Stephanie’s handsome husband.

The Fogherty’s family business was that they laundered money and bought arms for their compatriots in Ireland. Liam had observed Michael for five years before offering him a place in the family enterprise. His investigations showed that the young man was no art dealer, but a hit man of the highest order. He had found Michael to be intelligent and reserved. He had debated for the last year over taking Michael into his confidence, and after receiving a cautious acceptance, he waited for Michael to appear. He knew did not have long to wait, for he could hear his sister Siobahn talking to Michael and little Sean in the anteroom to his office.

The door opened and Michael entered. Liam watched Michael’s eyes make an automatic survey of the room for available exits.

“We’re alone, Michael,” Liam said to reassure him and rose to shake hands. Michael had a firm and confident grip, as if he had nothing to prove.

Michael nodded, “Good.” Michael sat with an economy of movement that was both graceful and powerful.

Michael exuded strength and competence, and Liam wondered how anyone would be so foolish to take this young man for a wimp of an art dealer. Liam said without further preamble, “Well, I take it you want to work for me, Michael. My line of business is not too far from what you do now. I think we could be very useful to each other.”

“Yes,” Michael replied.

“I’m not recording you, Michael. Feel free to talk. You can ask me anything.”

“I prefer to listen.”

Liam shrugged at Michael’s caution. Perhaps, that was what had kept the young man alive all these years. Caution was good. “Tell me, Michael, how are you with computers?”

“I’ve a home computer. I use it to monitor my ‘business’ dealings. I’m no expert, but I can manage to do what I need to do with one.”

“Good! We will spend some time together this week going over my system. I’m not as handy with them as I could be, but I get by, too.

Both men were dissembling about the level of their computer skills. Michael wanted to earn Liam’s trust, and Liam wanted to test Michael’s loyalty.

“You can start tomorrow, 9AM. I am really glad to have you aboard, Michael, and I know Stephanie will be glad to see more of you.” He clapped Michael on the shoulder as he ushered him from the office.

During the short interview, Sean had managed to disrupt the entire anteroom with his energetic play. “Hi, Daddy, Aunt Siobahn let me play with the furniture. Can we go get some ice cream? I promise not to eat too much and throw up on you.”

Michael, Liam and Siobahn all began to laugh at little Sean’s promise. Michael scooped the four year old up in his arms and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

Sean began to wiggle. “Down, I want down. Only babies get carried. And I’m no baby.”

Michael allowed the tyro to run and skip ahead of him, as he wondered how many more moments of pure happiness he would have with his son.

***********

Operations and Madeline were sharing a cold lunch, while she brought him up to speed on all missions in progress and in planning.

“South Africa is still with the profiler, but should be ready by 5PM this evening.”

Operations interrupted Madeline’s spiel with an impatient, “Have we heard from Michael?”

“Yes, Liam Fogherty has accepted Michael into the fold, but Michael feels that he will be under surveillance for a while, so feels the need for caution and restraint.”

“Good, what does he say about Nikita knowing his ‘circumstances?” Operations asked.

“He ‘doesn’t’ know,” Madeline said with studied emphasis. “I thought it advisable to keep him in the dark about that. I don’t think Nikita will be making any more visits to the suburbs, and I don’t want to put Michael under any pressure to conclude the operation precipitously. It’s taken this long to put Michael in place. Another month or two won’t make any difference in the outcome of his relationship with Nikita, but it will make the difference between a successful mission and a disaster.”

Operations gave a smirk as he asked, “So how is Nikita handling this revelation about Michael?”

“As I expected. She was hurt, but she will recover and be a better operative for it.”

“I suppose I really expected to see some fireworks from Nikita. Maybe when Michael returns,” he mused aloud.

Madeline shook her head. “I think you underestimate Nikita, but then you always have. She’s maturing nicely. If this doesn’t destroy her sense of compassion and humanity, nothing will.”

“Now, there is a briefing at 3PM for the Moroccan mission, I propose we make Nikita the team leader for that mission,” Madeline continued down her list of updates.

***********

Madeline was wrong about one thing. Nikita did take another trip to the suburbs. From her vantage point, she saw Michael and Sean return from their meeting with Liam Fogherty. Even from the distance, she could see the care and tenderness he had for the child. She could hear an excited, high-pitched “Mommy, Daddy bought me ice cream.”

The words broke her heart anew, and Nikita felt the black chasm of fresh misery overtake in her life. She took a deep breath and determined that she would shed no more tears, and that nothing and no one would ever touch her as this had.

Less than one hour later, Nikita had returned to Section One and sought her oldest confidant, Walter. She wondered if she had been a blind fool. Did everyone in Section know about Michael’s other life? She held her head high as she walked into Munitions.

“Hey, Walter,” she tried to say in her usual light manner, but the tremor in her voice made him look at her sharply.

“Hi, Sugar. What’s wrong?”

Nikita shrugged, “Nothin’ much,” she said in a hoarse whisper as she leaned toward him. “I just found out Michael’s married and has a son. That’s all.”

Walter’s eyes popped as Nikita dropped her bombshell. “What?”

Nikita gave Walter a close look. “You mean you didn’t know? I thought maybe I was the last to know.”

“Listen, Nikita, nobody knows the covers of the class five ops. but Operations and Madeline. Nobody! Are you sure?”

“I’ve seen it for myself, Walter. He has a beautiful red-head for a wife and a son. He looks to be about four. All this time, all this time, Walter, I thought.... It doesn’t matter ‘what’ I thought, because now I know the truth.”

Walter had never seen Nikita so miserable. He placed an arm around her shoulders and patted her. “It could be some kind of mission, Nikita. The wife could be an op,” he said trying to console her.

“And is the child an operative, too, Walter? Is Section recruiting four year olds now?” she asked with the misery too apparent in her voice.

Walter shook his head and tried again. “Michael loves you, Nikita. He may have no choice. You know how things are around here.”

Nikita was adamant. “He could have told me. He could have trusted me.”

“And would that make the hurt any less, knowing that when he had downtime, he was going home to a wife and child?”

“Maybe not, but at least I would have had a choice.”

“Nikita,” Walter said gently, “you’ve always had a choice. You chose Michael.”

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

One Month Later

Stephanie lay in bed and tried to fall asleep. She heard Michael sigh, then felt him leave their bed and walk toward the window. She wondered what he hoped to see in the black of night. Michael had been home for a month, yet they were farther apart than ever.

“Michael, come back to bed. It’s cold without you.” She hated the whining note that crept into her voice, but it seemed as if her world was falling apart, and dammit that was worth some whining.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to awaken you.” Michael reluctantly left the window and returned to bed.

Although she feared the answer, Stephanie had to ask, “Is there someone else, Michael? You’re so distant. You’re like a stranger. You have to talk to me, please.”

“Sorry, if I’ve been preoccupied lately. It’s the new job. Transitions are always difficult.”

“Michael, who’s Nikita?” Stephanie asked with a tremulous voice. “Is she someone you knew while you were still traveling?”

“Nikita?” asked Michael as he stalled for time. “Where did you hear that name?”

Stephanie took a deep breath. “You talk in your sleep, Michael. You have nightmares sometimes. You called her name, more than once.”

Michael didn’t know how to answer his wife. Why hadn’t he foreseen this problem? “I have been here with you every night for the last month. How could there be someone else? We make love every night, how can you doubt me?” Michael hated his evasions. No, lies. Call them by their proper name. His entire life was a lie. He lied to his wife, and he lied to Nikita by omission, but it was still a lie.

Tears started rolling down Stephanie’s face. “Michael you make love to me. You touch me in all the right places and I respond, but ‘you’ are missing. It’s like you’re on automatic pilot, Michael. The plane takes off and lands, but the pilot isn’t on board. You’re the only man I’ve ever had. In the beginning, I was so infatuated and so enthralled by the feelings you awakened in me that I was sure of your love, but since Sean was born, no, before Sean was born, you started pulling away from me emotionally.”

Michael reached his hand toward Stephanie, but she averted her face and wouldn’t allow him to touch her. He had never wanted to hurt her in this way. He didn’t love her, but she didn’t deserve the emotional turmoil that his way of life had brought her. Neither did she deserve how it would all end with his faked death, but at least then she would be able to recover and go forward.

“No, Michael, don’t touch me. I have to say what I’m feeling. Let me finish.”

Michael gave a silent nod. He didn’t trust himself to speak, yet.

“I know you care about Sean. Watching how you are with him has told me that you don’t love me anymore, if you ever did. So tell me, Michael. Who’s Nikita?”

Stephanie challenged him with blue eyes brimming with tears.

Michael wanted nothing more than to be able to just walk away, but the mission wasn’t complete. He couldn’t walk away like he did with Nikita when her questions cut too closely to his soul. “Nikita isn’t important,” he said softly. “She was a part of my life before I met you,” he lied.

Stephanie wanted to believe him. “Have you seen her since we were married?”

“Only in passing. She was part of the international ‘art scene.’ Don’t ask me any more questions about Nikita. That’s over. I’m with you and Sean now. You will have to trust me, when I say that I love you both.” What’s one more lie, when I’ve already told her so many, he asked himself. One more lie to add to his long roster of deceptions.

Michael pulled Stephanie into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep. You are the only one I love.” Oh, Nikita, forgive my lies, he thought in misery, as he held his wife. There was a special hell for those, bound to one and in love with another, and that was where Michael truly lived.

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

As Nikita walked through the main briefing area, below his office, Operations gave Madeline a questioning glance.

Madeline nodded. “She’s fine. I told you she would be.”

“I ‘know’ she’s performing well on missions, but how’s her personal life. Is she ‘involved’ with anyone?” he asked with a sly smile.

Madeline permitted herself a small smile and said, “I wouldn’t know. Nikita hasn’t seen fit to confide in me about her personal life, since her initial knowledge of Michael’s marital status.”

“I thought that you knew everything, Madeline,” he said as Nikita was lost from view.

“I know what I need to know. By the way, I was wondering what you were going to do about beefing up our Class 5 operative directory. Given recent events and Michael’s prolonged absence, I think you should take some steps. Perhaps, transfers from level 4 locally, or even some transfers from one of the other Sections,” she suggested.

Operations gave her a cagey look, as if he knew she had a hidden agenda. Of course, he couldn’t argue with her reasoning as usual, C5’s were severely depleted. “Did you have anyone particular in mind?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I think in Section One you should consider promoting either Tanaka or Ellis, possibly both. That would bring the level back up to three, with Michael being the fourth when he returns from his current mission. Section Two also thinks very highly of Wellsley, who I understand is interested in relocating. That would make five. Subject to your approval, of course.”

“Madeline, you know I always take your recommendations. Initiate the necessary paperwork, and I’ll run it by George at the Agency.”

“I’ll take care of it right now,” Madeline said as she turned to leave.

Birkoff signaled from Comm. “It’s Michael.”

********

Nikita wandered aimlessly into Munitions. Her last mission in Zaire had been a tremendous success, and Operations had even complimented her on her timely retrieval of a missing nuclear trigger. The last month had been quite busy with several low level missions, and now she was due some down time. She dreaded going to her empty apartment, but she hated hanging around Section. It was in Section that she missed Michael most, but at the apartment she had too much time to think.

“Hi, Walter. What’s up?”

Walter gave his Sugar a studied glance. “Not much, working on a new type of comm device. How are ‘you?’” he asked as he looked over his glasses at her.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just getting ready to go home. Thought I’d come by and say hi.”

“And maybe see if anyone’s heard from Michael? If he’s really on downtime, no one will hear from him, but if he’s on an assignment, Operations is the only one he’ll contact.”

Nikita hung her head in embarrassment. “I didn’t realize I was so transparent. I just wanted to know if he’s okay, you know.”

“Yeah, Sugar, I know.” Walter continued to work on his project, and Nikita looked around the area, not wanting to leave.

“You know, Sugar, there’s some fresh blood coming into Section One from England. New Class 5 level, just promoted and transferred. Maybe you ought to check him out. Rumor has it, he’s going to me missed by the ladies in Section Two.”

“Fine, Walter. That’s all I need is another heart-breaking, lying collection of testosterone. Count me out! I’m through with men. If I were in the real world, I think I’d become a nun.”

As he pictured Nikita as a nun, Walter threw his head back and guffawed. “Any time you want to put on a habit for me, Hon, I’m ready.” Walter continued to laugh till he wheezed and tears ran down his face. “I never saw any one less likely to be a nun than you, Sugar. Now get outta here, and go find someone to keep you warm tonight.”

Walter couldn’t resist giving Nikita a hug. Seeing her still depressed about Michael tore at his heart. He wished he could ‘fix’ the problem, but problems of the heart could only be repaired by the people involved.

“Walter, if you were just twenty years younger,” she said with a regretful shake of her head.

“Twenty years younger! Hey, I’m still a virile man,” he said in mock protest.

“I couldn’t have your death on my conscience. I’d be too much for you.” she whispered in his ear and gave him a kiss on his grizzled cheek.

“Get outta here. You won’t do, Nikita.” At least she left with a smile on her face, he thought.

Nikita walked toward the exit as she heard Birkoff’s call to Operations, “It’s Michael.” So was he on a mission? She shook her head. Thinking about Michael was simply too confusing to be comprehended by a blonde, she decided.

**********

After taking multiple precautions to see that he was not followed, Michael sat in his car in a small deserted park. Hours earlier, it would have been filled with Mothers airing their children in the bright, but crisp fall day. Stephanie probably brought Sean to play here as well. As he punched the Section One number and his access code for a secure line, he wondered if Nikita would ever speak to him again, after his precipitous departure from Section. He had barely taken the time to send an email to her home computer.

Birkoff recognized the access code as Michael’s and responded, “Section Slaughter house, head executioner speaking.”

“Give me Operations, Birkoff,” was Michael’s brusque response.

“You never did have a sense of humor, Michael. One Operations coming up.”

To Operations, Birkoff said, “It’s Michael.” Michael didn’t sound too happy, but then it was difficult to tell with Michael, he thought. He also wondered if Michael knew that Nikita knew about his living arrangements; but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him, and certainly not after the severe roasting he had received at the hands of Madeline for hacking into Michael’s file and giving the address to Nikita. She had reminded him quite frostily that there was more than one computer genius in Section One and Greggy could replace him anytime.

Operations waited until the connection was made. “I’m putting you on speaker phone, Madeline is here with me.”

“Fine, I’ve just been given total access to Fogherty’s files. There is a large shipment of arms headed to Belfast tomorrow night. Fogherty’s group is planning on a major disruption of the peace initiative. Sin Fein will be attacked, as well as the British constabulary. Multiple attacks on the citizenry are also planned. If it takes place as scheduled, it will be the bloodiest day in Irish history. Neither side will remain unscathed.

They will be using Kinston airport. It’s a small private airport on the south of town. I don’t know the size of the force guarding it, but I am part of the team. This is the first action in which I have been allowed any participation. The shipment is supposed to be loaded for a 10PM take-off.”

“Well, it sounds like you went home just in time, Michael. We’ll start prepping now and will have a substantial team of our own on site,” Operations said.

Madeline spoke for the first time. “Michael, are you sure you are prepared for the separation to come?”

“Of course, it was planned all along. There will be no change,” Michael answered in a monotone.

“The child wasn’t planned, Michael. Are you prepared for that?” Madeline probed. She knew Michael was very fond of the child and would have difficulty letting him go.

“Yes,” was Michael’s hoarse reply.

Operations shook his head at Madeline. That line of inquiry had gone far enough in his opinion. “Michael, you will be shot with a tranq dart during the mission. That will convince them that you were injured and taken prisoner. Mission prep will take place immediately. Another twenty-four hours and it should be over. Good job, Michael.”

Michael disconnected. Good job, he thought. He betrayed an innocent woman, betrayed the woman he loved, and would never see his son again--some job. Michael started the car and drove slowly home.

He did not see the dark gray vehicle hidden behind an evergreen, nor hear the driver’s quiet voice as he radioed to Liam Fogherty. “He took the bait, Liam. He used a secure line, and you can bet whoever he works for will be there with bells on.”

***********

Nikita, Birkoff, and Walter were seated at the briefing table as Operations walked in accompanied by an unknown operative. He was tall, well-built, with sun-bleached blonde hair and bright blue eyes and dressed casually in jeans and denim shirt, topped by a brown leather bomber jacket. Walter could not resist giving Nikita a nudge with his elbow. Nikita cut her eyes toward Walter and gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Operations spoke first as he illuminated the Vid Comm screen. “This is Liam Fogherty. He is the local leader of Eire Fein, an extreme branch of the IRA. According to our deep cover source placed in his organization, there is a large shipment of arms planned for tomorrow night. Eire Fein plans an all out disruption of the peace process with attacks on civilians, as well as Sin Fein and the British Constabulary in Belfast. Tipton Wellsley, one of our new class five operatives will lead the mission and fill you in on the details of the profile.”

Wellsley stood and began his update in a British accent that still had an underlying northern England accent. “There will be an advance team of seven abeyance operatives, in case this is a trap, with a back up team of ten. Our deep cover op. will be taken down with a tranq dart, and ‘captured.’ This is to protect the family he leaves behind. Eire Fein isn’t very tolerant to traitors or their families.

“His family?” Nikita asked. “Who is this deep cover operative?”

Wellsley clicked the hand-held remote and Michael’s likeness appeared. “Michael is our deep cover source. I believe most of you are already ‘familiar’ with him. His wife is the niece of Liam Fogherty, but it is not likely that Fogherty will kill his own niece and grandnephew, as long as it appears Michael was taken prisoner in the raid.”

The thought of two innocent lives in danger made Nikita nauseous. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Not entirely, but that’s the best we can do,” replied Wellsley. He had heard about Nikita and her penchant for compassion. He was intrigued by her beauty and history, as well as her history with Michael.

“Should we take a chance with their lives? They’re innocents. Can’t we relocate them to a safe house and give them new identities.?” Nikita could not bear that Michael’s son and wife could be so easily disregarded. Even if her dreams had been shattered by Michael’s betrayal, Nikita was still the same person, who never understood the difference between Section’s aim toward protecting the innocent and accepting their often glib response that innocents were often classified as incidental collateral damage. It had never made sense to her, and it never would.

Operations grew tired of Nikita’s questions. “That’s enough, Nikita. Profiles are loaded on your PDA’s. Study them and be ready. This is no ordinary group. They are rabidly devoted to their cause. They will not go down easily. That is all.”

**********

It was twilight when Michael drove his car into the driveway. He sat for a moment as he contemplated what would be the last night he would ever spend with his son Sean. He wasn’t sure if he could stand the pain he already felt as his heart clutched in his chest. As he steeled himself to the reality that would come to pass, Michael left the safe haven of the car and entered his house.

“Daddy!” cried a Tazz-like whirlwind by the name of Sean. “Look what Mommy cooked for you. Home-made French fries! I already had some, but Mommy says I can have some more.”

Michael scooped Sean in his arms and hugged him. He never wanted to let him go, and the pain increased.

“Daddy, you hug hard,” piped Sean as he began to struggle in his father’s arms.

“Sorry, little one. Where’s Mommy?” Michael asked as he looked around the comfortable house he and Stephanie had decorated together. Mostly comfortable contemporary furniture with a few antique pieces from the Fogherty family. All in all, he had spent very little of the last five years in the house, but it was the only existence that approached ‘normal’ since he had lost his parents. Tomorrow night his son would become fatherless, but at least Stephanie would still be around to love and protect him.

“Kitchen. Are you going to eat some French fries, Daddy? I’ll eat them for you.”

Sean ran ahead of Michael into the kitchen.

“Hi,” he said as he gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Want me to make the salad?” he asked, anxious for something to do.

“Sure,” was Stephanie’s monosyllabic reply as she watched him closely.

Michael began to wash the greens and prepare the salad. “What else do we have?” he asked.

“Use your nose, Michael,” Stephanie said as she tweaked his nose. “Steaks are on the grill. They’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

As he continued with the salad preparations, Michael gave a half smile, “I’ll be working with your uncle tomorrow night, why don’t you have your mother here for dinner, or take her to dinner. That would be a nice treat for her. She stays by herself too much, since your father died, except for keeping Sean, that is.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Michael. I think I will. You’re right, she is alone too much.” Stephanie was both surprised and moved by Michael’s suggestion. Maybe things would improve with them, she thought, and maybe this was just one of those rough spots that all marriages experienced.

* * *

Michael and Stephanie spent a quiet evening. Michael read Sean his favorite Dr. Seuss book, while Stephanie watched them as she crocheted a baby afghan for the new couple down the street, who were expecting their first child. As she looked at the soft pink and light blue yarns, she wished, not for the first time, that it were for another little one of their own.

Soon Sean began to rub his eyes and yawn. “I’m not sleepy. I just need a little rest, Daddy, in your bed. I want to sleep with you and Mommy.”

Michael glanced at Stephanie, who smiled and said. “One night. What can it hurt?

Michael’s and Stephanie’s last night together was spent with their son curled in a ball between them. Stephanie slept peacefully, Sean deeply and Michael not at all.

Michael stared at the ceiling and tried to contemplate his future without Sean. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes as he waited for the arrival of dawn and the final betrayal.

**********

It was ten minutes until Nikita had to be at van access, and she was in Munitions going over her equipment inventory with Walter.

“Okay, here’s your piece with the tranq darts, and here’s your 9mm. Don’t get them confused. Shoot Michael with the tranq, not the real bullets,” he said with a devilish grin.

Nikita was unusually tense, and she showed it by her brusque response to Walter.

“I’m not going to get them confused. Just give me the damn things.”

“Now look, Sugar. This is a mission like any other. Michael’s been on a deep-cover assignment, that --”

Nikita cut him short. “I don’t care what Michael’s been doing. Get it? Michael and I are through. It’s over.” Nikita grabbed her weapons, slung them in their holsters and ran toward van access.

Walter watched her as she left and shook his head. He hated what Section One did to people’s lives, albeit, it had given them new ones. He wondered if Michael would ever regain Nikita’s trust, and if he deserved to regain it.

As Nikita approached van access, she saw Wellsley standing in Michael’s usual place, resembling a young and tall Robert Redford.

“Nice of you to join us today, Nikita,” Wellsley said by way of greeting as she walked past him.

“Five minutes to spare,” she said tersely without another look.

* * *

Inside the van, Wellsley gave last minute instructions. “Listen up, the advance team will infiltrate the area. If they are waiting for us, we’ll know then. We will arrive considerably ahead of the scheduled take off time. Remain alert. We will provide backup for the advance team, should they draw fire. Nikita will take out Michael early and ‘take him prisoner.’ The rest of us will proceed as it’s laid out in your panels.”

Nikita rode in silence until they reached the target zone. Adrenaline coursed through her system, raising her blood pressure, increasing her heart rate and respiratory rate, pumping more oxygen into her blood stream. It was the same with all the operatives. Adrenaline, a leftover from prehistoric man, to whom fight or flight was a daily reality, was a hormonal boon to Section One operatives, who knew the same reality.

An hour later, the van pulled into a small wooded area to the south of the small private airport. “Showtime, boys and girls. Let’s do it,” was Wellsley’s only statement as the operatives exited the van and dispersed in silence into the dark night.

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

As the evening twilight fell and long shadows crossed the yard, Stephanie and her mother Moira talked and shared a cup of tea in the kitchen, while Sean buzzed around the table imitating the sounds of the airplane he held aloft in his small hands. He was having too much fun to pay attention to the serious adult conversation.

“I think we’re going to be all right, Mom. It’s been quite an adjustment having Michael home all the time. I know it’s what I always wanted, but it’s taken some getting used to for both of us,” Stephanie said.

Moira smiled. She had always like Michael, but until recently he had been away more than he had been home. “Marriage is not an easy task, darlin.’ It’s more of a journey. If you take it side by side, supporting each other, it’s easier. Having separate routes is never easy. I was lucky with your father, may he rest in peace. Oh, we had our difficult times, too, but I was having babies left and right, so I didn’t have time to worry. I just had to ‘do.’”

“I remember, Mom. I loved being part of a large family. I keep hoping, now that Michael’s home and working for Uncle Liam, that he’ll want to have more children. I think a little brother or sister would be great for Sean.”

Moira patted Stephanie’s hand. “I’m sure Michael will come around to your way of thinkin.’ After all, he’s still a Catholic, and he’ll do the right thing.” Her Mother’s Irish lilt warmed Stephanie’s heart and encouraged her.

They had finished their tea and cleared away the cups, when the telephone rang.

It was a hysterical Aunt Siobahn, “Stephanie, they’re going to kill Michael tonight.”

“What? What are you talking about? Michael is working with Uncle Liam tonight.”

“That’s what I mean. I overheard Liam talking to Paddy. They think Michael is working for someone else. They’ve set a trap for him, and they’re going to kill him,” said Siobahn in a whisper, afraid that someone would overhear her frantic call.

Stephanie began to tremble and sank to the sofa. She took a deep breath and asked, “All right, where and when?”

As she heard Siobahn’s answers, she looked at her watch. “I have time to get there and warn him. Thank you.” Stephanie ended the call with Siobahn still protesting.

Stephanie looked at her mother, who had heard enough to be upset. “I have to go to Michael. He’s in danger. Can you keep Sean for me?”

“What’s goin’ on? I thought he was with Liam tonight.”

“He is. Uncle Liam thinks he’s working for someone else. They’re going to kill him. I have to go and stop them.”

Stephanie grabbed her light blue jacket and was running from the house, as her mother called in vain, “No, Stephanie. No.”

“What is it, Nana? What is it? Where’s Mommy going?” young Sean asked.

Moira had no answer. She gathered Sean into her arms, crossed herself and began to pray.

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

From her vantage point, Nikita surveyed the airport. The teams had been in place since the early evening, waiting for the Eire Fein to show. The advance team was already positioned to attack once the EF members were loading the arms. Wellsley’s voice came over her comm unit. “There is an aircraft making approach. Hold position.”

“Birkoff,” Nikita asked, “any sign of EF on the ground?”

Birkoff’s familiar voice responded, “Multiple bodies in the collection of buildings, Nikita.”

“Radio silence until I give orders for the attack!” came Wellsley’s sharp response.

Nikita’s apprehension grew as she waited for the aircraft to land. The landing strip didn’t look long enough for a large aircraft, but her greatest fear was that she wouldn’t be able to discern which EF member was Michael. There was no moon, and it was pitch black, except for the blue runway lights. Thankfully, all the operatives were fitted with night vision glasses, but finding Michael amongst multiple men in black would be difficult in the extreme. Her mission was to shoot Michael with a tranq, but once the shooting started, experience told her anything could happen.

Ten agonizing minutes later, the transport had landed and was taxiing toward the small cluster of buildings that the airport facilities. Nikita was startled to see six figures in black materialize from the shadows and walk toward the plane. She wondered how long they had been there. She hated radio silence.

She was too far away to hear any conversation between the pilots and the EF members, but apparently they were satisfied with their security. Another six figures emerged and began shuttling the cargo to the transport carrier.

Two pulses signaled the advance team to attack. Fire was returned immediately and two Section operatives were already down. Wellsley’s back up team of ten received the sharp command, “Go.”

As she ran to a closer position to fire, she began searching for Michael. Her night vision glasses gave an eerie green haze to the entire scene, but she could not see Michael in any of the operatives involved in the fire fight. She quickly took out two EF members, as she crouched and ran. It stood to reason that there were more of them in one of the buildings, and possibly she would find Michael there.

Nikita found nothing in the hangar, nor in the small equipment building, which left one other small building. With caution, she peeked into a window, and the scene caused her heart to clutch with fear. Michael was in a chair, bound hand and foot, and Liam Fogherty stood with his gun aimed at Michael’s head.

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

“Birkoff, I’ve located Michael in the small office building. Fogherty has a gun at his head. I don’t have much time.”

“Nikita there is a rear access to your far left.”

“Thanks, Birkoff.” Nikita changed the clip in her 9mm. as she crouched and worked her way toward the rear access door. As she reached the corner, Nikita heard a car arrive with tires that screeched on the tarmac as it pulled up to the office. Oh, god, no, Nikita thought. It’s Michael’s wife.

“Birkoff, we’ve got an innocent on site now. Michael’ wife,” she added by way of explanation.

* * *

Michael looked Liam Fogherty in the eye as the man denounced him.

“You’re a damned traitor--to your family and to the Cause!” The veins in Fogherty’s neck and forehead were bulging, as he paced and yelled. “You know what we do to traitors in Eire Fein, Michael. They die miserable deaths, along with their families. Now that presents me with a real problem, Michael, because your family is my family, but do you think I can let them live after killing you?”

Michael’s mouth was dry as he spoke, “Stephanie knew nothing about this. She knows nothing about my life, and Sean is just a child. Why would you harm either of them?”

“The Cause, Michael. The Cause is more important than family ties or wives or children. The Cause demands that examples be set to warn future traitors. Your family is forfeit! Know it as you prepare to die!” Liam waved his gun in the air as he circled Michael.

* * *

Judging from the fire fight that continued around the aircraft, Stephanie decided her best option was to try the office. That’s where Siobahn said Uncle Liam would hold Michael, while the rest of the trap for their enemies was sprung. Stephanie felt she had nothing to fear from her Uncle, but she knew he would be enraged with Michael. Her only hope was that she could talk him out of killing Michael and letting them go somewhere far away.

Stephanie shook as she opened the door and walked into the small cluttered office.

“No! Stephanie get out!” shouted Michael, unable to believe his eyes as she opened the door.

“No, Michael. Uncle Liam, you have to let him go. He’s my husband, please,” she begged.

“He’s your traitorous husband, and that makes you one as well, my girl.” Without further adieu, Fogherty fired one sure shot into his niece’s chest, and before Stephanie could hit the ground, turned the gun toward Michael. Shots rang. Fogherty looked surprised, as Nikita dropped, rolled and emptied her 9mm into his body.

Nikita cut the bonds on a stricken Michael. He staggered to Stephanie’s body and knelt beside it. He gathered her limp form into his arms and whispered, “I’m so sorry. So sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to take your mother out to dinner.” Tears began to fall as he rocked and hugged her dead body.

Nikita knelt beside Michael and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Michael, you can’t help her now. It’s over.”

Indeed, it was over, for the firing had ceased. “Birkoff, what’s going on?” Nikita asked.

“The arms are secured, and we have the remaining EF members in custody,” was Birkoff’s reassuring reply. “What about Michael?”

Nikita cleared her throat as she answered, “Michael’s safe, Fogherty and Michael’s wife are dead.”

“Oh, god, not again,” was Birkoff’s soft reply.

Tip Wellsley entered the office and stopped as he saw Michael cradling his wife’s body and Nikita as she knelt beside them.

Nikita rose and motioned with her head that she wanted to talk. “We’ve go to do something. Michael’s son is home with his grandmother. Someone has to tell them what happened, and we can’t just leave ‘her’ here for housekeeping.”

“This does present a problem, Nikita. Birkoff,” Wellsley said into his comm set, “Get me Operations now.”

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

Michael sat in his darkened office contemplating the never-ending guilt that washed through his mind. He counted the lives he had maimed or destroyed: Simone, Rene Dian, Stephanie and Sean. While he had never loved Stephanie with his heart, she had been a good mother to Sean and didn’t deserve to end her life lying on the floor of a dim office with a bullet in her chest. His son didn’t deserve to lose his mother at the age of four. Madeline had assured him that Sean and his Grandmother Moira had been relocated to a neutral and safe location. He wondered if Moira would be able to exist away from her other six children and grandchildren, and if Sean would ever be truly safe from the vengeance of Eire Fein.

* * *

Nikita had been chosen to tell Stephanie’s mother about her death, before she and Sean were summarily swept away by Section One to a guarded safe house. Still dressed in black mission gear, but minus any weapons, Nikita knocked on the door of Michael’s house.

An attractive woman came to the door, her eyes ringed with red. It was obvious that she had been crying. Nikita could see Michael’s son as he lay asleep on the living room sofa.

Stephanie’s mother gasped as she saw the black-clad Nikita. “What? Where’s my daughter? Michael?”

Nikita attempted to lead her to a chair and began gently, “Perhaps, you’d better sit down. I have very bad news.”

At these words, Moira sagged to the floor and began to keen and wail, “No, oh no.”

“Shh, you’ll wake the child,” Nikita said in a soft voice. That seemed to have an effect, because Moira began to sob quietly.

“Stephanie and Michael are both dead. Your brother Liam Fogherty is too. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you and the child are both in danger as well. The organization I work for is going to relocate you to a safe house until you can be relocated permanently. You will not be able to contact the rest of your family ever. Do you understand me?”

“My family--I-I can’t see them again?” Moira stammered.

“It’s for your own protection. You will be considered traitors to your brother’s cause, and others will try to kill you and Michael’s child.”

Moira looked at the blonde woman in front of her. “I do understand. Thank you. What is your name? Who do you work for? Can you tell me that?”

Nikita said, “I’m Nikita. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Nikita? Nikita? That’s the name my daughter said Michael used to say in his sleep. Get out of here! I don’t care who you are, or who you work for. You’re responsible for my daughter’s death. You and Michael! Is he even dead?” she asked with a venomous tone.

“Yes, he is.”

“Get out! I’m not going anywhere!” Moira shouted.

As Moira’s voice grew louder, Sean began to stir. “Mommy? Daddy?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

Immediately, the living room was filled with four Section One operatives. Nikita’s eyes began to fill with tears, “I’m outta here.” she said as she ran from the house, and she could hear Wellsley say, “Will you come with us please.” A plaintive “Mommy, Daddy” would echo in her nightmares for months to come.

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

Epilogue:

Madeline and Operations were sharing one of their breakfasts during which they reviewed ongoing missions and future operations. Madeline took delicate sips from her tea, as Operations inhaled his cup of dark roast coffee.

“Well, it certainly looks like the Eire Fein mission was very successful. We disrupted a major attack and arms shipment, and Michael is through with his deep cover assignment.”

“Yes, everything went as planned. The .WAV file that Birkoff generated, to warn Stephanie of Michael’s danger was brilliant. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it,” Madeline offered with a smile.

“And Michael, how is he now that this assignment is completed? Was he in love with his wife?” Operations asked.

“I don’t think so. There was a bond, of course. Michael always reported that their intimate relations were quite satisfactory, even passionate. There is the child, of course. That is what troubles me. At some point, I think Michael will try to find him.”

“Well, we won’t let him find him, will we?” Operations said with a definitive coldness.

“The location of Michael’s son and the child’s grandmother are not in any computer system. You and I are the only ones who know where they are,” Madeline said with a small smile.

* * *

Nikita walked into Michael’s dark office. He had not responded to her knock, but she knew he was there. He looked at her with blank eyes and said, “Go away, Nikita.”

“No, Michael. I’m not going anywhere.” With a silent glance she told him to activate his scrambling device.

“Nikita, please, go,” his voice pleaded, but he reached for the panel and punched in the numbers that would secure the office from other eyes and ears.

“I can’t go into this now, Nikita. What I said to you as I carried you to Medical was true, every word, but things have changed. I have changed. Everyone that I care about is destroyed. I won’t do that to you.”

The betrayal still fresh in her mind and heart drove her angry words. Nikita leaned forward until her face was only inches from Michael’s. “You don’t understand. I don’t care what you said. You led me on for years. You said things to me you had no right to say. I’m sorrier than I can say about your wife, but you deserve everything that’s happened, Michael. You deserve the hell that you’re in.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I will never trust you again. I never want to see you again outside this hell hole. Don’t ever speak to me again, unless it’s mission related. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Nikita left him to the darkness of his soul. The light, however brief, was nearly extinguished. Only one tiny flicker of hope still wrestled in his mind. His son Sean was somewhere safe, and he would find him and together they would flee the covert world.

* * *

In a two-bedroom condominium in Phoenix, Arizona, Moira sat and cradled Sean in her arms as she whispered the daily litany that in time would become his own. “Your Daddy was an evil man. He killed your Mommy. He was truly evil. He never loved you.”

A clinging Sean snubbed his baby tears as he wrapped his arms around her neck. “Nana, aren’t Mommy and Daddy ever coming back?”

“No, Sean. Your Daddy killed your Mommy. He was very, very bad.”

“But I love my Mommy and Daddy. I want them now,” he wailed.

fini

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