The briefing area was crowded with operatives. Nikita glanced around. It was an odd group and she could find no reason why this particular group had been assembled. There were a few members of the first team, Michael, Ted, Ian and she, several other cold ops from other teams, including Stillman and Mentz. Some of the technical crew was there, plus Birkoff, Gail and Walter. Daniel, a martial arts instructor was there and Anthony, who worked in the kitchen, Christopher (Operation's steward), a couple of med-techs, even that guy from housekeeping whose name she could never remember, the torture guy.

Liz came up beside her, "What's the deal?"

"I have no idea. This is the weirdest group I have ever seen assembled for a mission."

Operations strode in and the room fell silent.

"Good afternoon," he began, "You have all been tapped for an extra duty assignment. As some of you may know we have long been seeking a lead on a man named Laurent Borges. Borges is an independent. He provides a wide range of weapons and intelligence to various terrorist organizations. If we can locate this man and bring him in alive he would be a major source of new intel for us."

"Why am I here?" Nikita heard Anthony mutter behind her, "I'm a chef."

"Borges has proved extremely elusive unfortunately," Operations continued, "We know almost nothing about him, not even what he looks like. Recently however we received new intel." He brought up a photograph on the hologram display.

"This is Carter McAffrey, a middleman who has had contact with Borges. McAffrey was recently picked up by the agency on an unrelated matter and we were given the opportunity to question him. He is blind and could not give us a description and knew next to nothing about Borges. He did, however give us an interesting and potentially valuable piece of information.

"Mr. Borges has a hobby," Operations smiled, "As of now, all of you have a hobby too."

PDAs were passed among the operatives as Operations continued the briefing;

"Borges likes hockey. Specifically, he likes to play hockey. He belongs to a night hockey league. We do not know which team but we do have the league. The men in this group have been chosen for this assignment because your files show that you have participated in this sport in the past. You will form a team; your covers have been downloaded into your PDAs. Walter will be your coach. The women will pose as wives and girlfriends. The league season starts in three weeks. You will play once a week until we identify Borges. We have his voice print and that is how we will identify him."

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

"Hey Simon, have you seen Michael?" Nikita asked

"Practice." He replied, distractedly.

"What?"

"They had their first hockey practice tonight."

"Oh yeah, Walter said something about that earlier. Any idea when they'll be back?"

"Well, we had to fly them out of town, we rented a rink every night until ten, figure an hour and a half or so to get cleaned up and fly back here, say 11:30. Which is right about now."

As if on cue the members of what had already been christened "The Home Team" came straggling into the Section. Some of them appeared to be favouring newly abused muscles. Daniel looked like he had a shiner in progress. Ian was walking as though he might break at any moment.

"Ian, you okay?" Nikita asked.

"Oh sure."

"What happened?"

"Birkoff."

"Birkoff?"

"Yeah, the little shit put me right into the boards."

"I see." Nikita replied, trying desperately not to laugh.

She turned to see the aforementioned "little shit" walking in with Walter. They were in deep conversation.

"How did it go?" She asked

"Great!" Walter replied, "We have a few real players and the rest should be able to fake it. Birkoff here is amazing! Michael can skate; puck control is another story. Drew will be a fine goalie with a bit of practice."

"Drew? Who is Drew?"

"You know, Drew. From housekeeping?" Birkoff reminded her. "Always works with Laurie?"

"Oh yeah, They give me the creeps..."

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

All operatives on the Borges mission team were assembled for a briefing before heading out to their first league game. In fact there would be two briefings. The one at the Section as regarding the mission and the one Walter would give later as Coach. Michael as Mission leader was giving the primary briefing.

"Remember we need to get voice prints on as many players as possible. Do whatever you have to make them talk. Those of you in the stands try and maneuver near their bench and the penalty box. Our problem of course is that we don't know what team this guy is playing on. He uses pseudonyms and we do not know his name. We are going to have to play until we find him."

"How long is the season?" Ted asked.

"Five months but according to the schedule we will have played all the teams in the first 3 months, there are 12 teams, including ours. Don't forget your covers. We work for a high tech firm with Government contracts; we don't discuss our work. That alone may bring him out of the woodwork."

Birkoff spoke up; "All the details of the mission have been downloaded to your PDAs."

Nikita glanced at hers, "Operation Stanley?"

"As in Cup." Walter told her.

"Oh we don't have any delusions of grandeur do we?" she muttered as she walked away.

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

"Hey! Did you see that?!" Ted yelled, "That son of a bitch was slashing!"

"They're going after Birkoff." Stillman said, "Bastards, they can see he's our best player."

Michael was on the ice as Birkoff's wing. He'd seen the hits Birkoff was taking too and was just waiting for an opportunity. It came early in the third period. They were losing but only by two goals so they were not making total fools of themselves. As the opposing team's forward (a particularly dirty player) came around behind the Section net Michael slammed him into the boards with such force he knocked his helmet off. Bending down (ostensibly to help him up) Michael said softly,

"Touch number 8 again and I'll put you right through the glass."

His tone was so menacing that it frightened the man speechless. Unfortunately depriving Michael of a chance to get his voiceprint.

Up in the stands Gail and Nikita shared a high five.

"That guy has no clue just how lucky he is." Gail said.

"Too bad he didn't break something." Nikita muttered and Gail looked at her, shocked. Nikita looked a little shocked as well. "Jeez, I think I'm getting a little too into this game."

Walter patted Michael on the shoulder when the lines changed, then bent down to whisper in his ear, "We may have a problem."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later, it can wait."

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

"You have got to be kidding." Operations said. Glaring at Walter and Michael as if the problem was all of their own creation.

"I'm afraid not." Walter assured him.

"Is there any other way to achieve our end game?" Michael asked

"You can rest assured that we will be looking for one." Operations told them. "In the meantime I'd like to know how it is that we did not know that this league was divided into divisions? Suppose Borges is playing on a team in the other division. Do you know what this means?"

"If we don't find him in our division we'll need to find him in the other division. There is only one way to do that." Michael said

"We'll have to make the playoffs." Walter said.

"And pray his team also makes the playoffs." Operation's reminded him.

"I've got teams assigned to the other division games to try and get a voiceprint from the stands, but it isn't too likely they'll get it." Michael told him.

As Operations walked away Walter asked Michael, "Who do you have on the other division?"

"Anyone I could scrape up who wasn't already on this mission."

"Get me a list?"

"Sure, why?"

"I can use them as scouts." Walter said walking off.

Michael watched him walk away; wondering which of them had lost his mind.

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

The office building was shadowed, a few cars in the lot and no sign of their quarry.

"What's happening Birkoff?" Michael asked from his position overlooking the exit.

"He's still in his office Michael."

"Why?" Michael asked testily.

"I don't know." Birkoff replied. Rolling his eyes in the privacy of the van.

"How many others in there?"

"I show 2 nearby, maybe guards."

"He was supposed to leave at 7:00, I show almost 8:00" Michael said.

Nikita glanced at him, mildly curious. It was less than an hour past the expected time the target was to have left his office. They had waited a lot longer on similar missions before and Michael had always taken it in stride.

"We have 30 minutes." Birkoff replied.

"Michael." Nikita whispered

"Yes?"

"Is there a time problem? It wasn't mentioned in the briefing."

He didn't answer her right away. In fact, even though it was dark she thought he looked a little...something.

"What?" she asked

"We have to get this guy and get out of here in not more than 30 minutes."

"Or?"

"Or we'll miss the face-off."

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

"Face-off???? Miss the face-off? You two are worried about a damn hockey game now?!"

"Nikita," Birkoff's voice patiently explained, "If we miss the face-off we forfiet the game."

"And that is a problem because...?"

Michael looked at her as though she had grown a second head. "Nikita, we can't forfiet a game! We have to make the play-offs."

"And one loss will knock you out?"

"We aren't exactly burning up the ice you know, we can't afford too many losses."

"Well maybe if you learned to pass the puck we wouldn't be losing so many games."

Michael glared at her, speechless at this less than flattering critique of his play. Nikita was saved a scathing comeback when Birkoff spoke before Michael could come up with one,

"He's coming out now."

"Why don't you take him." Michael said. Adding to himself, *since you're so clever *

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

The team sat around the locker room getting ready to play their last game of the regular season.

"We have voiceprints now on every player and coach in this division, none of them match Borges." Michael told them

Walter spoke up, "This is the last game of the regular season. We need to win to make the play-offs. And we do need to make the play-offs. We have no match on the voice-prints that we got from the other division."

Meanwhile, back at The Section:

"What is your name again?" Operation's asked

"Harry, sir" The steward replied as he served a late dinner to Operations and Madeleine.

"Where is Christopher?"

"There was a game tonight sir."

"Oh yes, I forgot. How did they do?"

"They won." Harry replied with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. He'd picked up 100$ from that pompous ass Simon on the game. In addition to what he'd won in the pool last week he was making out like a bandit on this deal.

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

Birkoff huddled over his workstation, checking the results again. When he was convinced he was correct he took the disk and headed for Michael's office.

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"We have a match."

"A match?" Michael asked, dragging his attention from the mission profile he was reviewing.

"On Borges, we have a voiceprint match." Birkoff told him.

"Who is he?"

Birkoff handed him the disk. "We got it from the stands, Number 12, he's going by the name Mahew."

Michael slid the disk into his drive and quickly scanned the information. "We have an address. Set up surveillance to see if it is valid and we'll arrange to pick him up."

"Okay. Michael?"

"What?"

"What about the game tomorrow night?"

"The game?"

"Well it's the championship game but we have the match now, so we don't need to keep playing." Birkoff reminded him.

"We'll play." Michael told him, with hardly a thought about it. He'd be damned if they'd forfeit the last game of the season after all they'd been through. Now he just had to figure out how to explain it to Operations...

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

"What did you tell Operations?" Walter asked, handing Michael his helmet. Madeleine had insisted that all Section players wear helmets with full-face shields. It had been her only comment thus far on the mission. She wanted no dental reconstruction as a result of this operation.

"I told him it would be easiest to get Borges here in the open rather than it his house. It is well guarded. So we'll play the game and we have a team waiting to pick him up after it is over."

"Think we can win?"

"If Birkoff is on his game...and Mentz can stay out of the penalty box."

They looked over to the corner of the locker room to where Birkoff was sitting alone. There was no sport more superstitious than Hockey and the Section team had quickly succumbed. Birkoff invariably sat alone in a corner before the game started, playing John Madden Hockey on his gameboy. It was a primitive technology but one which would not raise suspicions if seen.

Later:

"I cannot believe how nervous I am about this stupid game." Nikita muttered.

"We're winning, don't be nervous."

"These guys are going to be hell to live with if they lose."

"I heard Drew just about went off plumb a couple of weeks ago after that guy got a hat trick off him."

"Oh please, even Laurie wouldn't work with him...and he tortures people for a living." Nikita whispered back, so as not to be overheard.

"Oh jeez, look at that guy." Gail said, pointing to where one of the opposing players was getting ready to mix it up with Mentz.

"Bad idea. That is a really bad idea." Nikita said, to no avail. The player had dropped his gloves.

"That guy is just so hot." Jill said, fanning herself, as Mentz promptly and efficiently knocked his opponent cold and headed for the penalty box.

"Who? Mentz?" asked Gail "Isn't he your husband?" She continued, maintaining cover.

"Right." Jill confirmed, flustered. She'd forgotten that for a second there. "I had to warn some Hockey chick off before the game too." She recalled, narrow eyed.

"So Jill, " Gail asked leaning close to her ear, "Tell me, how hot is he? Really?"

"Hot. Trust me."

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

"I cannot believe we are doing this." Michael muttered

"Michael, it would look odd if we didn't." Walter assured him, "after all we just won the playoffs. It is perfectly normal to go out and hoist a few."

Nikita looked at Gail who was crammed into the back seat of a rented compact car with her and Birkoff. "Hoist a few? With Drew?"

"Nikita, he had a shut-out. We won." Birkoff reminded her as they pulled to a stop in front of the local watering hole and extracted themselves from the vehicle.

Nikita stopped Michael under a lamp in the parking lot, "Bend down a little, has it stopped bleeding?" She asked, examining a gash in the hairline on the right side of his forehead.

"It's fine."

"Are you sure that doesn't need stitches Walter?"

"It's fine." Michael repeated abruptly and stalked off.

"What's with him?" Gail asked.

"Don't mind him," Walter told her, "He's just touchy about getting beaned by a waiter."

"How did it happen anyway?" Nikita asked.

"Christopher was so excited about winning he flung his stick up in the air in the locker room. He didn't know Michael was standing behind him." Birkoff explained.

The party was in full swing by the time they entered the bar and Michael was surreptitiously making the rounds, reminding the players to watch their mouths.

"Hey Michael," Mentz said under his breath, "I know Section will never build us a rink but there are plenty of places for a few hoops, what do you think? Let's stop at Sports Authority on the way home."

~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile...in a secret location...

"Come in." Madeleine said, opening the door to Operations.

"It went perfectly." He told her, shrugging off his coat. "They picked up Borges outside the rink, not a soul saw it and he is even now spilling his guts."

"Wonderful. Do you have the surveillance tape?"

"Of course." He handed it to her and followed her into her elegant sitting room, taking a seat on the couch.

"Have you watched it?" She asked

"Of course not." He replied, taking the beer she handed him.

"Good." She replied, picking up a bowl of popcorn and settling down beside him, "I hate knowing the score before I see the game."

The End

Send suggestions and comments to ranma.
OR
If you would like to send a comment to Quinn, click HERE!