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ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.
Michael stood behind Birkhoff, watching the overhead vid screen. He could see the blips that represented Nikita and her team. They were making their way into a factory in Amsterdam. They were there to pick up a shipment of stingers along with the IRA terrorist who had stolen them, then blow up the place and move out.
It should have been a simple in and out scenario, but Michael found himself pacing back and forth, for he sensed that something was wrong. When he felt Madeline's eyes watching him, Michael froze to the spot and settled for rubbing his chin. "What's happening?" he asked Birkhoff.
The computer whiz let his fingers fly over the keyboard as he kept tabs on the team's positions. He sensed Michael's concern for Nikita and he was a bit nervous too. Nikita was leading the team and that worried Birkhoff. He had been a part of the team that she had lead, to rescue Michael and his team a few months back, but that had been a different scenario, and Birkhoff had felt secure in knowing that once there, Michael would take over. Not that Birkhoff didn't have faith in Nikita, but Michael was a born leader. He was strong and emotionless. No matter what happened, Michael wouldn't panic. Birkhoff's fear was that Nikita might lose control if something were to go wrong and her team was in distress. Or, somehow, an innocent got involved. Nikita worked well under pressure, but she had too soft a heart. Birkhoff just wanted her to be safe.
"All clear," Birkhoff replied, finally remembering to answer Michael's question. "Looks good to go." He studied the blips. "They've entered the factory."
"Good," Michael said softly, his eyes on the screen. But a moment later, all hell broke loose. Michael's eyes widened as he watched the blips on the screen. One by one, they disappeared. "Talk to me, Birkhoff," Michael demanded.
Birkhoff shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you, Michael," he shot back, his fingers tapping at various keys and scrolling through a variety of screens. "Nikita and the team have...disappeared."
~*~
Operations looked at the people assembled before him in the conference room. Madeline was to his left, Birkhoff and Walter were at the center of the table, and Michael was seated at the end. Without further ado, Operations filled them in. "As you all know, five hours ago we lost contact with Nikita's team in Amsterdam. Twenty minutes ago we received this message." As he spoke, Operations hit a button on the remote and an image appeared on the three-dimensional, vid screen.
A man dressed in fatigues, and wearing a black beret smiled at them. "My name is not important," he said, "but my message to you is. We have your operatives, but are willing to make a trade. The six of them for our leader. Give Jackal back to us, and your operatives will be freed. You have twenty four hours to release Jackal, at the end of which time we begin killing agents. One every hour. Starting with this one."
Nikita was suddenly on the screen. Her face was bruised, her hands bound behind her, and she was gagged. Walter gasped at the sight of her, but all eyes then turned to Michael. He betrayed no reaction. He simply stared at the screen.
Operations turned off the image and faced his audience. "I want to know who those people are," he said softly, but his tone was laced with steel. "And I want to know who Jackal is. The clock is ticking people, so let's not waste any time."
Walter had a question. "Will we make the trade?"
"That depends on what you tell me," Operations shot back. His eyes flickered over to Madeline, then back to Walter. "We'll meet back here in four hours. Don't be late." With that he waved his hand, dismissing them all.
Birkhoff and Walter were deep in debate as they headed out, but Michael glided out silently. He hadn't said one word since the time the team had disappeared off Birkhoff's screen. Not even to fill Operations in on what had happened. Birkhoff had done that.
Operations watched Michael's departure, then turned to Madeline. "Michael is....suspicious," he drawled, his pale eyes glittering like ice.
Madeline nodded. "Yes...he is," she confirmed. Then she stood up and left as well.
Michael was in his office, working on his computer, when Walter knocked on the door. The older man found it odd that the door was shut. Michael usually left it open. So he shifted from one foot to the other, while he waited to be invited in. As soon as he heard, "Yes?" Walter was stepping inside. He left the door open behind him.
"What is it?" Michael inquired, not lifting his eyes from his monitor.
"I...uh...I just wanted to see if you were okay," Walter replied, as he moved to stand before the desk.
Michael frowned, then glanced up. "Why wouldn't I be?" he countered, impatiently.
Walter shrugged, then wanted to curse. Damn Michael for being so stubborn and unwilling to open up to anyone. There had been a time when they had been close. When Walter had thought of the younger man as a beloved nephew. A time before Simone had died...the first time. Since then, Michael refused to let his guard down around anyone anymore. Except, at times, for Nikita. Which was why Walter was there. "I thought...you know...that you might be worried about Nikita," he said, his eyes locked on Michael's face. But the young man revealed nothing. Hisbeautiful face was a mask.
"Why would you think that?" Michael countered, his gaze intense as it bore into Walter's.
"I know you care about her, Michael," Walter shot back, resisting the urge to stomp around the desk and smack the young man until he betrayed some honest emotion. Only problem with that was, Michael could kill him with his bare hands...and Walter knew it. He sighed. "Look...kid. I just wanted to tell you that Nikita will be all right."
Michael glanced back down at his monitor. "You don't know that," he said softly. He wouldn't lie to himself about it, and he wouldn't let Walter do it either.
Walter sighed. "Forget I said anything!" he hissed, then he turned and stomped out of the office, muttering to himself all the way down the corridor.
The moment that Michael was certain that Walter was gone, he shut down his computer, turned out the lights, and left as well.
Operations looked about the conference room. All but one person was present, accounted for, and on time. "Where's Michael?" he questioned, throwing the question out to everyone.
Birkhoff shrugged. "I haven't seen him."
"I saw him about two hours ago," Walter offered. "He was in his office."
Madeline felt Operations' eyes on her and shook her head. She hadn't seen Michael, nor could she imagine where he might be. The only thing she was certain of was that he was no longer in Section. Had he been, he would be here now. Michael was never late for a briefing.
Operations swallowed a sigh and focused on business. "What have we learned?" he asked Birkhoff.
The computer whiz grimaced. "Not much. I can't find anything on Jackal. But I did learn something about the kidnappers. Based on the cap that the guy wore, I believe that he's part of a group that call themselves THE PACK."
"Who are they?" Madeline inquired, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the table. She was intrigued.
"They are a neo-military group who consider themselves to be scavengers, of a sort."
Walter snorted. "What the hell does that mean?"
Birkhoff glared at him. "Basically, it means they're garbage pickers. They shuffle through what others leave behind."
"Details," Operations demanded.
"Well...," Birkhoff rubbed one palm over his cropped head. "When that cargo plane went down over Antigua last month, with the radio components from the Japanese electronics sellout, THE PACK suddenly appeared and the cargo vanished."
Madeline nodded. "And what do they do with the things that they...acquire?"
Birkhoff smirked. "Resell it on the black market would be my guess. At least for that particular mother lode. Depends on what they pick up. They're fighters...more Guerilla than mercenary. They like making a profit and helping the underdog."
"And Jackal is their leader," Operations mused. "I want to know about him." It was not a request, but a demand.
"Yes sir," Birkhoff replied. He jumped out of his chair and headed out. Walter was on his heels.
The moment they were alone, Operations turned to Madeline. "Find Michael." She nodded and glided out of the room. "Where are you, Michael?" Operations muttered to himself. A part of him didn't want to know. If Michael learned the truth, lord help them all.
************
Michael moved silently across the grounds. He knew where all the guards were stationed, and had taken out four of them with tranq darts. Now it was just a matter of entering the facility. He knew where to find her, in the Tower section, kept in a kind of isolation from the rest of the *patients*. For Jackal was ensconsed in a mental facility for the criminally insane. She wasn't crazy, but she was dangerous...and Section knew it. Besides which, what better place to hide an ex-operative?
Reaching the tower, Michael paused for a moment, hidden in the shadows. Getting in was going to be the easy part. Getting Jackal out would be harder. Not because she would resist him, but because the more time that passed, the more likely they were to be caught. Law of averages. But Michael pushed such thoughts aside as he used an electronic descrambler to break the code on the digital door lock. He also deactivated the alarm. Then it was a simple matter of taking out the two guards. Michael shook his head as he stepped over the bodies. It was almost too easy. The guards were Section operatives, but they had gotten lazy.
Having done his homework, Michael climbed the stairs to the sixth floor. According to the intel he had gathered, there was only one inmate on this floor, so he guessed that it would be Jackal. They would keep her away from the others. Slipping into the corridor, Michael noted that there was only one guard at the desk, but was certain there would be at least one more, roaming the corridors. The moment Jackal's name had been mentioned by THE PACK, Michael assumed that security around Jackal had been warned. At least, that's what he would have done. Not that anyone should have suspected that he would be here. It was too soon for Operations to suspect that...if ever. There was no information that would connect Michael to Jackal. No way that he should have known about her. But he did.
The guard at the desk was surprised when Michael came striding towards him, gun in hand. But he didn't even have time to reach for his own gun when he hit the floor. Michael stopped long enough to grab the security card that would activate the locks, then he continued down the hall. The other guard might be alerted to his presence now, but Michael would deal with him when the time came. For now, he would keep in mind that a silent alarm might now have been sent. He had to hurry.
Last door on the right, at the end of the long corridor, was the only door that was closed. Michael passed the card over the groove and waited for the buzz, and click. Then he hauled open the door. Sitting on the bed was a woman with dark, blond hair and soft, gray eyes. She was about forty years old and dressed in jeans and a blue sweater.
She smiled at him, showing no trace of fear. "Nicely done," Jackal commended, completely sincere in her praise. "How many guards did you take out?"
"Only one, on this level," MIchael replied, even as he was handing her a gun. "We have to hurry."
"Yes. There's one more guard and he will have alerted the others by now." Jackal checked the clip and gave a satisfied smile as she slammed it back in then racked the chamber. "I didn't expect you," she said suddenly.
Michael stared at her, his eyes wide. He was truly stunned. "What do you mean?" he countered, warily.
Jackal laughed, a soft, musical sound. "You're Michael. I know about you. Next in line for the top spot. Operations will not be pleased that his pet project has rebelled."
"No," Michael allowed. "He won't be pleased." Moving to the doorway, Michael glanced out. The corridor was empty. "Come on," he beseeched, ready to move.
"In a minute," Jackal countered, grabbing his arm and hauling Michael back into the room. "I'm glad you're here, Michael. But I need to understand some things first." She lifted the gun and trained it at his head. He didn't even flinch. No reaction at all. In that moment Jackal understood two things. Michael wasn't afraid to die, nor was he afraid to live. But living, for him, was a penance. Jackal didn't lower the gun, however, as she asked, "How did you find me? No oneknows I'm here except for Operations and George. Not even Madeline knows the location."
Michael didn't want to waste time having this discussion, but he had no doubt that Jackal would shoot him if he didn't answer her, and he had no intention of dying today. Not until Nikita, and the other operatives, were free. "Five years ago I did a *favor* for Operations. I retrieved some files and disposed of them. He wanted me to make certain that a file called Jackal was specifically destroyed."
She laughed again, sincerely amused. "But you read it first?" Jackal stated, more than asked.
"Yes," Michael confirmed, showing no regret.
"Good boy," Jackal praised him. "Ops chose you well." She lowered the gun. "So...you know who I am?"
Michael shrugged. "I know enough." He knew that Jackal and Operations had worked together as a team, fifteen years ago. But then she had turned *traitor* to Section, for Jackal had formed THE PACK two years earlier. Only she had escaped, and it was but eight years ago that they had caught her. She hadn't been cancelled for several reasons. She was valuable to Section in many ways... And, important, to Operations. Still, after her capture, THE PACK had survived and continued on, always searching for a way to free her. Michael had his own suspicions about that. "You arranged for your people to kidnap Nikita and the others," Michael said softly. It wasn't a question either.
Jackal nodded. "That's right," she confirmed. "I had hoped that you would be the one to come, Michael."
"So you did expect me," he countered, challenging her earlier statement.
"As I said...I had hoped," Jackal repeated, firmly. "I know your loyalty to Operations is strong, Michael. As it is to Section. I even understand why. And I accept that you're doing what your doing now, out of that sense of loyalty."
Michael almost smiled at her words. Perhaps she, of all people, did understand. He doubted that anyone else would. His only regret was that he wouldn't live to explain it to Nikita. Michael would have liked for her to understand him, and the reasons for what he had done..and did...before he died. But that was not to be. This was more, or less, a suicide mission, and he had known that from the beginning. Michael knew he was trading his life for Nikita's, and it was a fair trade. "We need to go...now," he stated, once again heading for the door.
This time Jackal followed him. But she paused to ask, "What do you want from me, Michael?"
"I'll take you to your people," he replied. "And you will free the hostages." It was that simple.
"Nikita," Jackal whispered, her eyes glimmering. She understood the bond that was between Michael and the woman. "You will be cancelled when you return to Section, Michael," she said softly.
He nodded. "I know. But Section deals in numbers. One life in exchange for six. They taught me well."
Jackal studied him for a long moment. Seeing the truth that glimmered in Michael's silver-blue eyes. He reminded her of an angel...a dark angel. Beautiful and deadly. "You realize that in doing this, you're throwing away your future," Jackal declared, even as she followed Michael out the door.
"My future?" he echoed, not certain that he knew what she meant.
"Don't you want to be Operations someday?" Jackal countered, as she led Michael down the hallway. A smile curved her lips even as she asked the question, for she already knew the answer..even if he didn't.
Michael didn't answer. Instead he raised his gun and fired a shot over Jackal's shoulder. They both heard the sound of a body thudding to the floor. The guard, who had been hiding in the doorway a few yards down the hall, was dead.
Jackal chuckled. "Nice shot," she approved. Then she gestured for Michael to follow her as she strode down the corridor. Freedom was just moments away.
~*~
Operations glared at Madeline. Ten hours had passed, leaving only ten for the deadline to be reached. She hadn't found Michael. He was MIA. "Where do you think he is?" Operations challenged.
Madeline offered a smile. She wasn't intimidated by his anger for she knew that it was directed at himself, not her. "You tell me,"she countered, softly.
"Dammit!" Operations hissed, even as he reached for the phone. He punched in a number then waited. When he heard the other party pick up he wasted no time on amenities. "We've got a problem, George," he said, his tone brittle. He listened for a moment then replied, "Michael knows."
The question was...how? Madeline thought to herself as she watched Operations' face. Not that it mattered at this point. But, when Michael returned, and she had no doubt that he would, Madeline was looking forward to finding out. Just when she thought she might have him figured out, Michael would surprise her.
Jackal sat in the passenger seat of the Cessna. She felt secure with Michael piloting the small plane. He knew what he was doing, and he did it well. It bothered her that his life would soon be over. Section would punish him for this particular transgression. Jackal was full of questions, but one in particular stood out. "What do you get out of this, Michael?" she asked. "Revenge? Against whom? Section...or Operations?"
"It's not revenge," Michael replied, his eyes flickering over at Jackal, then back out the window. He couldn't explain it to her, for he wasn't sure he understood it himself.
"You want to save Nikita," Jackal guessed. Operations had told her about the beautiful, blond operative. Had even asked for her advice. He hadn't liked what she had given.
Michael saw no reason to deny it. "Yes," he whispered.
Jackal had figured that. "But why?" she prompted, as she studied his profile.
"Because...she's worth saving," Michael replied. It was the simple truth.
"What about yourself?" Jackal challenged. "I think you're worth saving, Michael."
He didn't respond to that, and was grateful when Jackal didn't pursue it. Silence stretched out between them, broken only by his comment, "We'll land in twenty minutes."
Jackal looked out the window and whispered, "Home sweet home."
************
Once they reached Jackal's compound, Michael set the ground rules. "If you betray me, I will kill you," he said calmly.
Jackal nodded, believing him. But she had no intention of betraying him. "You gave me my freedom, Michael," she replied, softly, offering a smile. "I'll give you your people back. I owe you that, and more. I'll even give you the means to transport them back to Section. We'll make a trade. The Cessna for something bigger."
"Deal," Michael allowed. He gestured for Jackal to lead the way in. Nikita was close by, Michael could feel her. And he wanted to see, for himself, that she was all right. Seeing her on the vid-screen, bound and bruised, had angered him.
"Give me your gun," Jackal countered, holding out her hand. "Trust me on this one, Michael. If you don't, you'll be shot down before you take two steps."
He didn't doubt that, so he handed over his weapon. Then he followed Jackal into the compound. A converted hanger, with a brick building attached to it.
Jackal shouted out a greeting as she entered the hangar, and her people seemed to come swarming out of the woodwork. All of them had guns and they were all trained on Michael. "Weapons down!" Jackal ordered, taking a protective stance in front of Michael. "He's a friend." She glared at her people until they obeyed.
The man who had captured the Operatives, and demanded Jackal's freedom in trade, stepped forward. His name was Louis. "Welcome home, Jackal," he said softly. His eyes glimmered with tears that he would never shed.
"Thank you, Louis," Jackal replied, drawing him into a hug. "It's good to be home." She then turned to Michael and took him by the hand. "Come, I'll take you to Nikita."
Nikita and the others were locked in a windowless room. She heard the heavy door swing open and blinked against the glaring of harsh light, which filtered the heavy darkness. Rising to her feet, she prepared herself for battle. But the fight went out of her when she saw the man who approached. "Michael.." she whispered, blinking back tears. Section must have sent him, now he had been captured too. It reminded her of Red Cell. But, to Nikita's surprise, Michael turned her around and unlocked the cuffs that shackled her wrists, behind her back.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his lips pressed to Nikita's ear. Michael could feel her trembling.
"I...I think so," she whispered, turning back around to face him. Uncertainty shadowed her eyes as she looked at him, but relief flooded through her as Michael tenderly cupped her face in his hands, then smoothed back her matted hair. "What's going on?" she asked, as she watched her captors free the other operatives.
Michael took Nikita's hand and led her out of the room. "We're going home," he told her, moving to stand before Jackal. He offered a smile to her. "Thank you."
Jackal nodded. "You're welcome." She could see, as plain as day, that Michael was in love with Nikita, and she had little doubt that the feeling was mutual. They made a beautiful couple and, no doubt an unstoppable team. But that would end, if Michael returned to Section. "I have an offer for you, Michael," Jackal declared. "For you and Nikita."
"I'm listening," Michael allowed. He felt he owed Nikita that much, although he could guess what the offer might be.
"Come join me," Jackal invited. "Both of you. You'll be safe here, and free of Section." A glance at Nikita and she continued. "You can be together. You don't have to die, Michael. I'm offering you a chance to live."
Nikita let her confusion show on her face. She glared at the other woman, then turned her attention to Michael. "What's going on?" Nikita demanded. "Didn't Section send you?" Nikita was in the dark about everything. All she knew was that she and the others had been captured with the intent to be traded for someone called Jackal. And that there was less than an hour to the deadline. Michael had cut it close. Nikita also knew she was intended to be the first to die.
Michael locked eyes with Nikita and gave her the truth. "I came on my own. Section had no intention of making the trade." Michael saw surprise flicker in Nikita's eyes, but it quickly flashed to anger. She was learning.
"How did you find us?" Nikita questioned, her eyes once again moving to the other woman. She had suddenly realized something. "You're Jackal?"
"I am," Jackal allowed, smiling. "Michael is very clever, Nikita. That's all you need to know." She turned her focus on the young man. "If you leave, you die," Jackal reminded him. "Stay with me, Michael. You know that I can protect you.
He nodded. "I know. But...I have to go back." As he spoke, Michael's eyes were on Nikita. He hoped that she would understand why.
She didn't, but she did know that Michael wouldn't change his mind. Whatever his reasoning, Nikita would stand beside him. "When do we leave?" she questioned. Not that she was anxious for Michael to face what was to come, but Nikita wanted to go home.
"Right now," Michael replied, his eyes flickering over to the other operatives, who were hovering close by. "Give me a minute," he requested of Nikita, who nodded. Then Michael took Jackal aside. "You'll keep your word?" he questioned, his tone cool and his expression neutral. Michael had slid back into machine mode.
"I always do," Jackal replied, recognizing Michael's status. It was his means of protecting himself. His way of getting the job done. The only way to be successful was to be detached. Jackal knew that from experience. "I wish you would stay," she said, honestly. "But I understand why you won't." Michael would never run from adversity. He would face his punishment, because he was a man of honor. He felt he had betrayed Section, and his sense of loyalty demanded that he pay the price. Jackal felt a true sense of regret. "Thank you for giving me back my freedom, Michael," she said softly.
He shook his head. "No need to thank me," he countered, coolly. "I did what I had to do." It was about Nikita, and the operatives. But more than that. It was about doing the right thing, no matter what the cost. Nikita had taught him that.
Jackal lifted her hands and let her fingers tangle in Michael's soft hair. "Nevertheless, I owe you one," she whispered. Then she kissed him, tenderly.
Michael recognized the kiss for what it was. A goodbye. He kissed her back, then pulled away. "Goodbye," he said softly. Then he strode over to Nikita. It was time to go home.
Michael sat in the chair across from Madeline's desk. She and Operations were both standing before him. Operations was angry, but kept his cool. A part of him admired what Michael had done. But he had lots of questions. "How did you find out about Jackal?" He fired the question at the younger man, like a bullet from a gun.
"Does it matter?" Michael countered, his unblinking gaze locked on Operations face.
Madeline answered it. "It's a concern, security wise," she allowed.
Michael's eyes flickered over to her. "A concern or a problem?" he countered, not really expecting an answer. Glancing back over at Operations he said, "It's a problem easily solved."
They all knew what he meant, but Operations merely glared at Michael, then he strode from the room. Madeline watched Michael, seeing the surprise that flickered across his beautiful face. But only for a moment, then he resumed his blank expression. Madeline smiled. "You won't be cancelled, Michael," she said, answering the question that she knew he would never ask.
"Is that all?" Michael countered, wise enough not to question the reasoning for it. He knew he wouldn't be told. He also knew he would be watched like a hawk, but that was nothing new. Michael would be careful. He always was.
"This is for you," Madeline said, holding out a white card with Michael's name printed across it. When he took it from her, Madeline smiled then glided out of the room in Operation's wake.
Alone now, Michael stared at the card for a moment. Then he opened it. Written inside were seven words.
Michael. I always pay my debts. J...
Suppressing a smile, Michael tucked the card into his jacket pocket then stood up. As he left Madeline's office, he wondered if Nikita would be in the mood for a cup of coffee.
THE END
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