![](http://www.thesplitpersonality.net/graphics/spacer3.gif"){kind=spacer}
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.
The mission was simple. Section had intel on a mark, and they needed to keep track of him and the person that he was meeting with. Rumor had it he was in the market for a computer program that could hack into any system software, bypass the encryptions, and enable the user to download to their hearts content. In essence they could hack into government files that were highly classified, and not leave a trace. Section wanted that program.
The mark was meeting someone at a bar called Bishops. Walter and Birkoff were in the van, Michael and Nikita were inside. Michael was wearing glasses, so that Walter and Birkhoff had a visual. Birkhoff would try to identify the newcomer.
Nikita was sitting at the bar, facing the front door, Michael was at a corner table facing the back. He had spotted the mark. The guy was heading towards the bar, opposite end of Nikita. "Got him," Michael whispered. "To your left."
"Right," Nikita replied, lifting her drink to her lips and swiveling around on the stool to snag a casual glance. She noticed a young woman heading towards the guy. "Got a live one," Nikita hissed.
"Got her," Michael said softly. The woman had brown hair to her shoulders and was very attractive. She looked a little nervous as she reached the mark. "Birkhoff, got her?" Michael asked, as he focused on her for a good visual. The computer whiz let his fingers fly over his key board. "Got her," he confirmed. "Now....let's find out who she is." Birkhoff was so immersed in what he was doing that he didn't hear Walter's soft gasp.
The older man felt himself grow pale as he stared at the young woman's face on the monitor screen. "No.." he muttered beneath his breath. "It can't be." But he knew it was.
"Did you say something?" Birkhoff inquired, as he bit off a piece of licorice.
"No," Walter replied, shaking his head. "Did you find her?" He leaned forward, checking the screen.
Birkhoff shook his head. "She's not in any of our files. I'll have to dig deeper."
Michael was listening to the exchange, even as he watched the couple at the bar. "Move it, Birkhoff," he ordered, for the mark was about to take off. "Follow him, Nikita!" Michael hissed. Section wanted the mark in their possession, and Michael had the feeling the fellow would try to run.
"Right," she drawled. "You want me to bring him in?"
"See where he goes first," Michael instructed. He turned his head to watch Nikita as she slid off the stool. A moment later the mark breezed past her and she turned her head to smile at Michael. He then refocused his attention on the newcomer. She was still at the bar and reaching for a glass of wine. They needed to find out who she was. "Birkhoff...anything?" Michael queried.
Birkhoff heaved a sigh. "Nothing. It's like she doesn't exist. We'll have to try fingerprints."
Michael knew what he had to do. "On it," he replied, rising out of his chair. He glided forward and managed to brush into the woman, just as she was turning around. Wine splashed over her before the glass fell from her hand. "I'm so sorry," Michael whispered, slipping into character. "I'll buy you another drink," he quickly offered, even as he offered the woman a napkin from off the bar.
She shook her head. "That's quite all right," she assured him, as she dabbed at her blouse. But she wasn't that effective, for her eyes were locked on Michael. Good lord but he was beautiful, and sexy, Tracy thought. And that's all that seemed to matter.
"How can I make it up to you for being so clumsy?" Michael queried, a sensual smile curving his lips. He saw the gleam of interst in the woman's pale eyes and he played up to it, letting interest glimmer in his own.
"Dance with me," she answered, letting her gaze flicker over Michael. He was wearing black, from head to toe, and it was form fitting, which suited Tracy just fine. He had an incredible body and she wanted to feel it against her. She hadn't had a boy friend in over two years. And hadn't been with a man in nearly eight months. Tracy wanted this one, badly. "What's your name?" she asked, boldly.
Smiling, he replied, "Michael. What's yours?"
She held out her hand. "Tracy. So...how about that dance?"
"I'd love to," Michael replied. He accepted Tracy's hand then raised it to his lips. Hearing her soft sigh, Michael knew that he was on the right track. He led her onto the dance floor, then pulled her into his arms. "Does Tracy have a last name?" Michael questioned, his eyes gleaming. The information would help Birkhoff in his search.
"I'm into that one name thing," she replied, with a husky ripple of laughter. "You know...like Cher. Or Madonna. It's less complicated, don't you think?"
Michael nodded, as he whirled Tracy about the small dance floor. "It's very mysterious as well," he whispered, then he bent his head to nuzzle a kiss behind her ear.
Tracy felt like swooning. She thought that men like Michael only existed in the movies. "Please tell me that you don't have a girl friend," she requested, feeling breathless as Michael's lips moved to her jaw.
"I don't," he replied as he stopped dancing and lifted his hands to cup Tracy's face. He kissed her, soft and sensual, then pulled back to smile at her. "But...I'm afraid I have to go."
"Go?" Tracy repeated, someone dazed. Then she shook her head. "Why?" she asked, not caring if it was none of her business. She wanted Michael in her bed, putting out the fire that he had ignited deep within her.
Michael let his hands smooth back her hair, then glide over her shoulders. "Work," he replied, which was the truth. "It's been a pleasure...Tracy."
She nodded. "You have no idea," Tracy moaned. "Look, Michael...will you be here tomorrow?" She wanted to see him again, but couldn't give him a phone number, nor could she risk calling him. Too much was at stake. She couldn't forsake business for pleasure. But she wasn't willing to let him walk out of her life. "Can you be here same time...same place?" Tracy requested. We can pick up where we left off."
"Maybe," Michael allowed. He smiled, then he stepped away from her. But he didn't head directly for the door. Instead he retrieved his coat and slipped it on, then headed for the bar, pulling some cash out of his pocket. Some change spilled to the floor and Michael bent to retrieve it. As he did so, he used a handkerchief to pick up the wine glass he had nudged beneath the bar when he had bumped into Tracy. It was the one she had dropped. Slipping it into his coat pocket, Michael stood up then hand the bartender a ten, as a tip. Turning back to the dance floor, he saw that Tracy was still standing there, watching him. Michael waved, then made his way to the door.
Once back in the van, Michael handed the glass over to Birkhoff, he then pulled off the glasses and held them out to Walter. The older man was looking right at him, but didn't seem to see him. "What's wrong?" Michael asked.
Walter jumped, startled out of his reverie by Michael's soft voice. "Nothing," he replied, too quickly. Michael's gaze was intense, so Walter tried to cover his tracks. "I'm just tired," he said, heaving a dramatic sigh for effect. It was true enough.
"Okay," Michael countered, turning to Birkhoff. "Anything?" he asked, as he watched the young man's fingers fly over the keyboard.
Birkhoff shook his head. "Nothing. No trace of her. I'm telling you, Michael. It's like she doesn't exist."
Michael lifted one hand and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Operations was not going to be happy to hear their report. They had learned nothing about the hacker programs, and Michael knew he would catch hell if he returned to Section empty-handed. "Where's Nikita?" he asked, suddenly.
"She followed the mark," Birkhoff replied, then he grinned. "He went to a girlie show a few blocks down. Nikita followed him in and collared him. Their on their way back to Section as we speak."
"Good," Michael replied, feeling relieved that at least something had gone right. Then he turned to Walter. "I need a receiver for the K-one," he said softly.
Walter frowned, even as he rummaged in his goody bag for the item. "What for?" he questioned, as he handed over the device.
Michael switched it on, then smiled when a red blip appeared on the small, digital, screen. "I put a tracker on Tracy," he replied. Then he banged his hand on the wall. "Go," Michael ordered the driver. "Head east." As the van drove off, Michael kept one eye on the receiver, the other on Walter. He didn't believe in intuition, but all of his instincts told him that the old man was hiding something from him and, before the night was over, Michael intended to find out what it was.
************
They followed Tracy's car. She drove a dark blue, buick and headed cross town. After following the main highway for twenty minutes, she turned left onto a one way street. Michael sat beside Birkhoff, studying the street map on the monitor screen. The receiver was on the table in front of them.
"Pull over!" Michael ordered suddenly, when the blip on Birkhoff's screen suddenly froze. They couldn't risk being seen, but Michael sensed that something was wrong, so he headed for the door.
"What's going on?" Walter asked, jumping up to join the younger man.
Michael shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, sliding open the door. Then he looked at Walter. "You coming?"
Walter turned back to grab his gun out of his goody bag. "Right behind you, Michael," he replied.
The two men cut acoss an alley way that Michael had noticed on the schematics. He was ahead of Walter, since he could move with greater speed. But even so, Michael was only in time to see a dark van drive off, the buick left behind, driver's door, wide open. It was empty. Tracy was gone.
"Where is she?" Walter demanded, as he reached Michael. His breath was labored and he leaned against the car for support.
"Someone took her," Michael replied, his eyes locked on Walter's face even as he pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket. Michael ordered the van to pick them up.
Walter took measured breaths to try and calm himself, but he couldn't seem to control his anxiety. It revealed itself in the sharpness of his tone and glimmered in his eyes. "Who took her?" he countered, anger coloring his tone. He glared at Michael. "Dammit! We've got to get her back!"
Michael didn't respond for a moment. He paced in a half circle, letting the silence draw out and grow heavy, then he turned to face Walter and asked, "Who is she?"
"I..." Walter knew he should have been prepared for the question. Michael's intense gaze missed nothing. And he had no choice but to be honest, for he needed Michael's help. "Tracy is my daughter," Walter replied, softly.
"I see," Michael said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Walter laughed, but it was a humorless sound. "We both know why. Besides which, I never expected to see her tonight." He paused, for the van had pulled up beside them. Walter watched as Michael went to the window and told the driver to wait. He then held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Michael took Walter's arm and drew him away from the van. They needed to talk. "Does she know you?" he asked, bluntly.
"No." Walter grimaced at the question. It pained him that he and Tracy were strangers. It hadn't been his choice, not in the beginning. But had turned out to be for the best. "I don't think she does," Walter suddenly ammended. "I don't know what her mother has told her about me, if anything. But....I'm sure that if she does know anything about me, she also believes that I'm dead and have been for a long time."
"You never tried to contact her?" Michael challenged, his eyes locked with Walter's.
The older man shook his head. "No. Not that I didn't want too," he admitted.
Michael could understand that. But he needed to know more. "Did you ever track her?"
"Yes," Walter replied, feeling almost relieved to admit that. "Up until seven years ago. "
"Why did you stop?" Michael prompted, he knew that Walter, if anyone, would be able to keep tabs on a person without getting caught.
Walter rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pain that throbbed like a drum. "I thought she was dead," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut at the flash of pain the memory evoked. "She was in a car wreck and died instantly. Or so I thought. I went to her funeral," Walter confessed. "Stayed in the shadows, of course."
Michael found this information interesting. Tracy was not an innocent. It was apparent that she had faked her own death, so she had connections. Powerful ones. "What does she do?" he questioned.
"Computers," Walter replied, reluctantly. The moment he said it he knew the conclusion that Michael had drawn.
"She's a programer," Michael countered, making a statement rather than asking a question. But one look at Walter's face confirmed it. Now everything was falling into place. "She created the programs that Section wants," Michael said softly. "We have to get them." He turned to head back to the van.
Walter grabbed his arm. "Wait!" he beseeched, yanking Michael back around to face him. "You can't do that."
Michael's expression remained blank as he shrugged off Walter's hand. "We have no choice."
"Like hell we don't!" Walter shouted. He knew that Michael could break him with his bare hands, but he wasn't afraid. Walter was desperate. "You know what Section will do to her after they get the programs, Michael," he hissed. Walter knew about Michael and Simone's son. he knew that Michael blamed Section for the boy's death. And he didn't blame him. It was cruel, but Walter wasn't above playing on it to get what he wanted. "You've got to help me, Michael," he begged. "Help me save my daughter."
"What do you want me to do?" Michael countered, unable to meet the intensity of Walter's gaze. A flicker of memory made him close his eyes. One minute he had been holding his son in his arms, a heartbeat later...or so it had seemed...he was dead. Michael hadn't thought the memory would still have the capacity to hurt him. He was wrong.
Walter felt relief flood through him. Michael was willing to listen, and that was a step in the right direction. "You have contacts, Michael, outside of Section. You can find out who took her."
Michael nodded. "I can," he allowed, in fact he already had a good idea of who it might be. "Then what?"
"I know that I'm asking alot, but you have to rescue her," Walter countered. He grabbed Michael's arm. "Please. Save my daughter."
"I can do that," Michael allowed, once again freeing his arm from Walter's grasp. "But then what?" He knew that freeing her from the enemy wouldn't make her safe. Section would then claim her and cancel her. Michael could guess what Walter wanted from him, but he was going to make him say it.
Walter knew what Michael was doing. And why. He wanted Walter to understand what he was asking. "We can make Tracy disappear, Michael," he said softly. "Some place where Section will never find her."
Michael sighed. He knew it could be done, but he also knew the risks in doing so. Risks that involved more than Tracy's life. "I'll help you, Walter," Michael allowed, then he raised a hand to cut the old man off when he would have thanked him. "But there are conditions."
"What are they?" Walter asked, willing to give Michael anything he wanted.
"First off, we keep Nikita completely out of the loop." Michael's eyes locked with Walter's as he spoke, and they shimmered like emerald ice. "Do you understand?"
Walter nodded. "I understand," he confirmed. He knew, better than anyone, how deep Michael's feelings were for the beautiful blond. Sometimes he believed he knew better than Michael himself. "What else?" Walter prompted, know there was more.
Michael resumed pacing and one hand lifted to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We need the programs," he said, stating the obvious. "They cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands."
"Agreed," Walter replied. "I'll make certain that Tracy hands them over to us. That'll make Section happy as well." Which Walter saw as a bonus in their favor. "Anything else?"
"If at any time I learn that Tracy is marketing her programs, I will hunt her down and cancel her," Michael said, his voice soft as a whisper but laced with steel. He was willing to help Walter, but he would not jeapordize the security of Section. That was not acceptable, for any reason.
Walter felt a chill ripple through him at Michael's words, but he didn't argue them. Walter had been with Section longer than Michael. He understood the young man's reasoning, and accepted it. "Agreed," he replied, his own tone cool.
Michael nodded. "Good. We have to go back now," he said, gesturing for Walter to procede him to the van.
"What are you going to tell Operations?" Walter questioned. He knew that Michael would take the heat for this. If they were going to save Tracy, that meant they would have to play it that they had lost her, as well as being unable to identify her.
"Don't worry about it," Michael replied. "I'll handle it." It would be the first time he had faced Operations' fury. Nor would it be the last. Nikita had a gift for putting Michael in the hot seat. "Fill Birkhoff in on what we're doing," Michael ordered, as they reached the van. "We'll need his help."
Walter grimaced. "What if he won't help us?" he queried, fearing that the computer whiz would spill the beans to Operations. Walter knew that that's where Birkhoff's true loyalty lay.
Michael smiled, a slight curving of his lips, as he slid the door open. "He'll do it," he said firmly. Michael knew that Birkhoff owed him one and would help them for that reason alone.
"Michael..." Walter hesitated, uncertain of how to say what he was thinking. He felt the young man's searing gaze upon him and shook his head. "Never mind," Walter whispered. There would be time enough to thank him later...if they all survived. Heaving a sigh, Walter stepped into the van behind Michael, and closed the door.
************
Walter was watching for Michael to pass by after leaving Operations' office. The young operative had been in there for over two hours, and Walter knew that he was getting his butt reamed for losing Tracy and not getting any information on the programs. It was as much Walter and Birkhoff's fault but, as always, Michael would take the heat. Walter grimaced when he saw the look on Michael's face as the young man approached him. "It's bad, isn't it?" he questioned.
Michael waved aside that train of thought. "We have to move quickly," he said, stepping in close so that they wouldn't be overheard.
"What did you tell Operations?" Walter persisted. He needed to know.
"That we did what we could," Michael replied, realizing that it would be easier to respond, then Walter would be able to focus. "I put a tracker on her, we followed, she was grabbed before we could reach her and the tracker must have been discovered." Michael locked eyes with the older man. "I'll need a few hours in my office. I think I know who has her but I need to confirm. Prepare my gear, Walter. I'll leave as soon as I have confirmation."
Walter nodded. "Got it. You'll have everything you need," he assured Michael. When the young man started to move off, Walter touched his arm. "Good luck."
Michael almost smiled. "I don't believe in luck," he whispered, then he strode off towards his office.
*************
But luck seemed to be with Michael. In less than two hours he had his confirmation. He called Walter to tell him he was ready to move, and Walter told him his gear was in his car. Michael went into his quarters to shower and change into a black t-shirt and pants, foregoing his customary jacket. He would be infiltrating a Legion safehouse, so he would need full gear, including a vest. That was what Walter had waiting for him in his car. Now it was a simple matter of slipping out of Section. Only when Michael returned to his office, Nikita was waiting for him.
"Hello, Michael," she offered in greeting, along with a smile.
"Nikita..." he replied, moving to his desk to retrieve a few items, such as his watch. As he put it on Michael asked, "Did you need something?"
Nikita shook her head. "Nothing in particular. Just wanted to see how singed you were after being raked over the coals by Operations." She smirked as she studied Michael from head to toe. The t-shirt he was wearing outlined the muscles of his chest, and his bulging biceps were revealed to her admiring gaze. "You look good, all things considered," Nikita drawled. She knew about Tracy being grabbed by an outside force.
Michael pinned Nikita with a hard look. He knew that Nikita had heard the story. No doubt everyone had. "We'll get her back," Michael replied, softly. "Is that all?"
"I guess," NIkita allowed. "Going somewhere?" she countered, sensing that he was in a rush to get rid of her.
"To follow some leads," MIchael replied, knowing that it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible.
Nikita jumped to her feet. "Want some company?" she offered. In the past, Michael had saved her butt many times. She wanted to help him now, if she could.
Michael was silent for a moment as he checked about to make certain he hadn't forgotten anything. Then he turned to face Nikita. He knew why she was making the offer, and he appreciated it. If things were different, Michael might even have accepted. But now he shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "My mess, I'll fix it."
"Of course," Nikita replied, having expected as much. She knew better than to push the issue. For now. But she would be keeping an eye on things. It felt strange to see Michael in the *dog house* so to speak, while she had actually received praise from Operations for nabbing the mark. Not that the guy had provided them with any useful information. He only told them what they had already figured out. That Tracy had the programs they needed, but that she was working as a middleman. "If you change your mind," Nikita drawled, allowing Michael to nudge her out of the office. "Give me a buzz."
"Thank you," Michael whispered, as he closed the door behind them. "I'll see you later, Nikita," he told her, then he turned and strode off down the corridor. Michael didn't need to glance at his watch to know that time was running out.
*************
It made sense to Michael that Legion would want Tracy's programs, and it didn't surprise him that they knew about her. Legion had contacts and resources that came near to matching Sections. That's what made them a difficult enemy to destroy. But he didn't worry about that now as he made his way towards their base camp. It was a small warehouse on the docks. Michael would be going in blind, so to speak, but that would work well for his plan.
He was dressed in field gear, complete with vest and gloves and mask so that he blended into the shadows. He had one gun in his hand, the other strapped to his thigh. There was an open window at the second level, and Michael climbed his way up to it, taking out two guards along the way. He almost smirked as he watched them fall. Amateurs. Once through the window, it wasn't that difficult a matter to take out yet another guard, then slink down the hallway. Legion was slack in regards to their inside security, figuring that no one could pentrate that far without getting caught. So Michael made his way down a catwalk and into an area that resembled living quarters.
Michael slipped into an empty room, which turned out to be a bedroom, when he heard voices approaching. And none to soon. To his surprise they stopped just outside the door. A bigger surprise was that one of the voices belonged to Tracy. She spoke a name that was familiar to Michael. Segenti. He was one of Legion's higher ups. His position being similar to that of Operations' level in Section. Michael almost smiled. This was going to be better than he had hoped. He remained in the shadows, behind the closed door, as Tracy and Segenti spoke.
Tracy was laughing. "You've made me an offer that I can't refuse, Segenti," she said. "One million dollars and a ticket to tahiti is a dream come true."
Segenti chuckled as well. "So, then. We have a deal?"
"Give me till morning?" Tracy requested. "I want to make certain that I have all the details worked out in my head."
"Fair enough," Segenti allowed. "But, keep in mind, if you refuse my offer, you die."
Tracy was silent for a moment, then she replied, "I'd like to think that I'm not a fool, Segenti. Don't worry, we'll both get what we want."
Michael heard heavy footsteps retreating and guessed that Segenti was moving off. He bit his lip as he heard the door knob rattle. A moment later the door swung open, and Michael pressed himself back against the wall. He saw Tracy, in silhoutte, reaching for the light switch, but Michael grabbed her, one hand over her mouth, his other arm wrapping about her waist. In her ear he whispered, "I won't hurt you."
Tracy had been struggling but she froze when she heard the voice. She recognized it instantly. It was Michael. But what the hell was he doing here? Tracy tried to speak but his hand muffled her words.
"Do you promise not to scream?" Michael asked.
With a nod, Tracy agreed. She felt his gloved hand pull away, then his arm loosen about her waist so that she could turn to face him. "What are you doing here?" she hissed, squinting in the darkness in an attempt to see his face. It was then that she realized he was wearing a mask.
Michael felt the intensity of Tracy's gaze, so he pulled off the mask. "I've come to...rescue you," he replied, his voice a husky whisper. No telling who might be lurking outside the door, so Michael moved to close it, then he switched on the light. It would look more suspicious if he didn't, should someone pass by.
"What makes you think I need rescuing?" Tracy countered, as she gave MIchael a lengthy perusal. He looked gorgeous in black leggings and boots, a long-sleeved jacket and a funky vest. Tracy also found the way he held his gun to be very sexy. The man was sex personified. "Who are you, Michael?" she challenged, realizing that he wasn't some accountant or something.
"Who I am doesn't matter," he countered, moving to the window to gaze out. "I know who you are, however, and I want your programs."
Tracy felt a flash of anger as she realized what his words meant. "That whole thing in the bar was a set up, wasn't it?" she hissed. "You were never interested in me."
Michael shrugged. "You're a very beautiful woman," he allowed. "But this is business."
"Sorry," she replied. "I've already made a deal with Segenti."
"You can't trust him," Michael shot back, moving now towards the door. His eyes flickered about the room, searching for hidden cameras. So far, so good, he thought.
Tracy shook her head. "But I should trust you?" she questioned, her eyes wide. "You've got Segenti beat in the looks department, Michael. But show me the money. That's all I'm interested in."
Michael nodded. "I can pay you," he replied, locking eyes with Tracy, and searching deep into her soul. But she was good at the game and played it cool. Tracy was no novice. Michael wondered if Walter realized that. That his daughter was a player in the big leagues.
"How much?" Tracy countered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Once again she let herself enjoy the view. Michael had turned away from her again and she was happy to admire his buns of steel. She felt desire ripple through her, spreading a warm glow.
"We'll negotiate once we get out of here," Michael countered, once again moving to the window. "Will you come?" he questioned, his eyes cool as his tone of voice.
Tracy stood up and headed for the door. "Why not?" she drawled, yanking the door open before Michael could stop her. A moment later she was pushed aside as four, armed, men rushed into the room. They smiled as they trained their guns on Michael.
Just then Segenti entered the room, and his smile was the brightest. "Drop your weapons, Michael," he ordered. "Or my men will shoot you."
Michael wasn't surprised that Segenti knew him by name. His face was a blank mask as he tossed his gun onto the bed. Then he reached for the one strapped to his thigh and tossed it aside as well. His eyes then locked on Tracy, who stood against the wall. She didn't seem frightened, but neither did she look happy. Michael wasn't sure what to think. He looked back at Segenti. "What now?"
"Good question," Segenti countered. "I can guess why you're here, Michael," he drawled. "Section sent you to get the programs from Tracy."
"Not exactly," Michael replied, allowing a smile to curve his lips. "I'm here on my own behalf."
Segenti frowned, finding that hard to believe. He knew how loyal Section's operatives were. Especially this one. "Why should I believe you?" he challenged.
Michael shrugged. "You shouldn't," he allowed. "I wouldn't in your place. But I'm telling you the truth. Section doesn't know I'm here." How ironic that it was the truth.
"That's very interesting," Segenti countered, moving forward to walk a circle around the younger man. "Why is that, Michael? Have you had a falling out with Section?"
"Not exactly," Michael said, his voice whisper-soft. "I just thought I'd take a walk on the wild side. See what things are like on the enemy lines."
Segenti found himself believing Michael's words. The young man was a cool character, and Segenti was impressed. He was also interested in discovering if Michael was as good an agent as he was reputed to be. If so, and if he was willing to change sides, Segenti could use him in his war against Section, if for no other reason. Not that he was so foolish as to believe that this might not be a trick. He would check out Michael's story. To his guards he said, "Lock Michael and Tracy in this room and keep watch from outside."
Michael looked at Tracy, then at Segenti. "What are you going to do?" he inquired, although he could make a guess. Segenti would check out his story, as to whether or not Section had sent him. Not a problem. Michael had covered that base with Birkhoff.
"I'm going to see if you can be trusted, Michael," Segenti replied, as he signalled to his men to leave the room. One of them grabbed Michael's guns, before heading out. Segenti reached the door and smiled. "You two behave yourselves," he teased, glancing over at Tracy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that she had the hots for Michael. It shimmered in her lovely eyes. So be it. They would keep each other preoccupied. Segenti then he stepped out, closing the door behind him. The click of a key in the lock could be heard.
"Do you think he's going to kill you?" Tracy asked, the moment she and Michael were alone.
He didn't reply. Michael glanced at his watch, then moved over to the window. Six hours had passed, and so far everything was going as planned. Now Michael had to rely on Walter, Birkhoff and Nikita to play their parts. Only problem being, they didn't have a copy of the script.
*************
Walter was pacing at his station and Nikita spent several minutes watching him, before approaching. "What's going on, Walter?" she asked, deciding that it would be best to be blunt.
"Nothing," he replied, too quickly. Walter grimaced as he realized that he wasn't fooling Nikita for a second. She was a smart woman and he was blowing his cool. But he tried to recover. "I'm just a little...worried," he allowed.
"About what?" Nikita prompted, moving to prop one hip against his work table, and folding her arms over her chest.
Walter decided that it would be best to stick to the truth as much as possible. "About Michael," he said, heaving a sigh. "Operations' is really angry with him and what happened was as much my fault as his."
Nikita nodded. "But Michael's used to taking the heat. He'll be fine." She didn't let her own concern for him show.
"Sure," Walter replied, forcing a smile. "I know he will, sugar. I'm just feeling ancy. That's all." Truth was, Walter was sick with worry. It was going on seven hours and no word from MIchael. Walter had been about to seek out Birkhoff when Nikita had appeared. Somehow, he had to get rid of her. "Uh..sugar.." Walter began.
"What?" Nikita countered, frowing at the sudden, odd, expression that had crossed Walter's leathery face. "What's wrong, Walter?" Nikita was concerned for the old man had grown pale.
Walter fell against his counter, one hand reaching into the side drawer. He withdrew a small capsule and grimaced at what he was about to do. But he had no choice. Nikita was too nosy for her own good, not to mention his. And Michael's. "I'm feeling a little dizzy, sugar," he said, feigning weakness. The moment Nikita was by his side, and bending over him, Walter took a deep breath, then snapped the capsule. He held it under Nikita's nose and a moment later she collapsed into his arms. Walter shifted her till she was draped over his shoulder, then he carried her into his back room and laid Nikita down on the cot in the corner. He covered her with a blanket then smoothed her pale hair off her face. "Sorry, sugar," he whispered. "But I promised Michael." That said, Walter backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Next stop was to find Birkhoff.
*************
The computer whiz had been expecting Walter. But he hadn't expected the old man to be so agitated. "What's wrong with you?" he hissed, as he watched Walter pace in a half circle, back around and back again, over and over, till Birkhoff was ready to slug him.
"It's been almost eight hours!" Walter shot back. "We should have heard from Michael by now."
"I did," Birkhoff replied, whispering. At Walter's stunned expression he ammended, "Well, sort of."
Walter stopped pacing to confront the young man. "Where is Michael?" he demanded.
Birkhoff sighed. He knew that Michael hadn't wanted him to tell but, truth was, Birkhoff was worried about him as well. "He's...uh...with the Legion."
"What?" Walter shouted, then he clapped a hand over his mouth. "What do you mean he's with Legion?"
"Legion has Tracy, so Michael went to get her," Birkhoff explained.
Walter was stunned. "By himself?" he countered, with a shake of his head. "Michael expects to rescue Tracy from legion all on his own?" When Birkhoff confirmed, Walter slammed his fist down on the table. "What in the hell was Michael thinking?" he hissed. "He'll be caught for sure."
Birkhoff grimaced, then rubbed his palm over his head. "Um...I think that was the plan," he confessed. Michael had filled him in on it knowing that he would need Birkhoff's help. But he had expressly forbidden him to tell Walter. Only problem was, Birkhoff was afraid that something would go wrong, if it hadn't already.
"Michael is in trouble," Walter declared, with a certainty. He could feel it in his bones. Besides which, Walter felt guilty sending him in to rescue his daughter. It wasn't fair for Michael to put his life on the line for Walter, or for Tracy. "I'm going after him," Walter stated, his eyes locking with Birkhoff's.
"I'll come with you," the computer whiz replied. He grinned at the surprised look on Walter's face. "I'm not staying here to face the music alone," he teased. Yet it wasn't entirely a joke. When Operations learned what was going on, and Birkhoff had no doubt that he would....eventually...find out. Well, he didn't want to be around for the fall out. Birkhoff reached for a laptop and a carrycase. "You need me to find Michael," he added, before Walter could protest.
Walter shook his head. "Michael told you where he was going?" he asked, more than a little surprised.
Birkhoff frowned. "No," he replied, as he collected a few more items he would need. "I put a transmitter/tracker in his watch about a week ago. Remember that one you were working on...the k-12? I did a little modifying and I've been hoping for a chance to see if it works." Birkhoff stepped off the platform and headed for the exit. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Walter was still standing there. "You coming?" he questioned, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah!" Walter hissed, running to catch up. He was silent for a moment as they walked. Then said, "We'll have to borrow a car."
"Good point," Birkhoff acknowledged. "Can't use a company car." That would be impossible to explain to Operations. "Who's car we gonna borrow?" he inquired, curiously.
Walter grinned. "I know where a nice Mercedes is parked," he replied, his pale eyes twinkling.
Birkhoff didn't like the sound of that. "Uh..Walter...what do you have in mind?"
"Just stick with me, kid," Walter countered, draping an arm over Birkhoff's slender shoulders. "You just might learn something."
"Lord help us all," Birkhoff muttered, heaving a sigh. But somehow he doubted that his prayers would be answered.
************
As they drove along, following the blip on Birkhoff's computer screen, the young man still found it hard to believe that he was riding in a stolen car. He had watched Walter hot wire the vehicle with eviable ease, but had been reluctant to get in it. And he hadn't, not until Walter had shoved him inside. Admittedly, the Mercedes was a nice car. But Birkhoff's main focus was on his computer.
"Turn left," he instructed. "I'm starting to pick up static, so we should be close." The static meant that once in range, he and Walter would be able to hear what was going on within Michael's radius. The transmitter in the watch was quite powerful.
"Where to now?" Walter inquired, after making the left turn. They were heading for the docks.
"I think that warehouse," Birkhoff replied, pointing to their right. The signal was coming in strong and he could pick up what sounded like a fuzzy word or two.
Walter followed directions, but was careful to turn off the headlights so that they glided along with the stealth of the shadows. He was glad that it was an over cast night, so the darkness was heavy. The beeping from Birkhoff's PC got louder and Walter felt a sense of relief. They were close.
Birkhoff raised one hand. "Stop," he ordered, motioning for Walter to pull off behind some barrels. They would be relatively hidden there. After typing in some numbers, Birkhoff grinned. "There," he crowed. "We have contact.
Sure enough, as Walter listened, he could hear Michael's voice. Loud and clear. But what he heard brought a frown to his face.
Michael was whispering in French and a female voice was laughing softly. Not with humor, with somehing..else. Then there were soft moans from the woman. Then she spoke and he recognized her voice. Tracy.
"You're wearing too many clothes, Michael," she whispered. Then there was the sound of rustling.
Birkhoff bit his lip as he realized what they were listening to. Michael and Tracy were making out. He glanced over at Walter and saw fury on the old man's face. "What do you want to do?" Birkhoff inquired, somewhat reluctantly. But he knew they couldn't just sit there all night.
Walter was stepping out of the car, but he held out a gun to Birkhoff. "Come on, kid. We're going in," Walter snapped.
"In..where?" Birkhoff countered, even as he set his laptop on the dash and opened the car door.
"Inside the warehouse," Walter replied. "Obviously Michael and Tracy are in there, and it doesn't sound to me like they're in much danger." The *father* instinct in Walter had kicked in as he continued to listen the exchange between his daughter and Michael. He was furious to think that Michael would take advantage of Tracy because of the situation they were in. That she seemed to be enjoying herself didn't matter. Nor did he care that she was over thirty. Walter and Michael were going to have words.
Birkhoff grabbed Walter's arm. "Wait a minute," he protested. "We don't know who's in there. We can't go in blind, Walter. We're no match for Legion."
Walter sighed. He knew that Birkhoff was right, but he didn't want to wait around. "So...you got anyway to find out how many we're up against?" he questioned, hopefully. For once, Walter hadn't thought that far ahead.
"I do," Birkhoff allowed, reaching into the car for his duffle bag. He rummaged around in it for a moment, then pulled out something that looked like a small, oddly shaped, telescope.
"What is it?" Walter queried, a frown marring his brow.
Birkhoff slid the device open then pointed it at the warehouse. "A miniaturized, infrared, heat sensitve scoping device," he replied, even as he squinted one eye to look through it.
Walter shook his head. "And where the hell did you get it?"
"I made it." Birkhoff grinned. "I found the design while surfing the web and I modified it."
"Of course," Walter drawled, but he was duly impressed. "Does it work?"
Birkhoff nodded. "I can't give exact numbers, but so far I've located about eight bodies. Most of them in the north end. There are four in the east end," Birkhoff said softly, biting his lip. He chuckled then explained. "Uh....two of them are...horizontal."
Walter knew what Birkhoff was implying. That the two were Michael and Tracy. "Give me that!" he snarled, snatching the scope out of Birkhoff's hands. It only took a minute to find what he was looking for. He hand back the scope, then raised his gun. "I'm going in," Walter said firmly. "You coming?"
"Right behind you," Birkhoff replied, resisting the urge to heave a sigh. He was scared to death, but he owed it to Michael to try and help for all the times that Michael had gone to bat for him in the past.
*************
Michael was lying on his back on the bed, Tracy on top of him, and she was doing her best to undress him when a commotion could be heard outside the door. Michael knew the cause and he quickly rolled Tracy off of him and got to his feet. He then pulled her up beside him and guided her to the left side of the door. "Be quiet, "Michael whispered, then he moved to the other side. A moment later the door opened. Michael grabbed the person who came through and shoved them inside. It was Birkhoff.
"Michael," the computer whiz exclaimed, only to find a hand over his mouth.
"Shhhh.." Michael beseeched. Then he turned to find Walter behind him.
The old man was furious as he took in the sight of Michael's ruffled hair and the fact that his t-shirt was pulled free of the waistband of his trousers. "You bastard!" Walter snarled, raising one hand to throw a punch.
Michael blocked it easily, simultaneously pushing Walter down to the floor as the sound of a shot rang out. Michael jerked as the bullet ripped into his flesh, but then he rolled and grabbed Walter's gun. As he made it back up to his feet, he fired several rounds, taking out the two men who stood in the doorway. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and the blood that was dripping down his arm, Michael snatched up the Mac 10's and tossed one to Walter. The other he kept for himself. "Do you have any clips?" he questioned in general. When Walter tossed him one, MIchael reloaded the hand gun then walked over to Tracy and held it out. "Do you know how to use this?"
She nodded and accepted the weapon, but her eyes were on Michael's shoulder. "You need attention," she said softly, swallowing hard at the sight of the blood that was dripping on the carpet.
"Later," Michael replied. He moved to the door and looked out. The corridor was clear, but Michael sensed that they were being tracked. Segenti was no fool. Michael looked at Walter. "Follow me out," he ordered. "I'll cover you."
Walter grabbed Michael's good arm. "Let me go first," he beseeched. He was nearly as good a shot as Michael, after all, he had trained the young operative. And he wasn't injured.
Michael knew what Walter was thinking and he shook his head. "Do as I say," he whispered. "Get Tracy and Birkhoff out of here."
"Right," Walter replied. He had faith in MIchael's ability to get them all out alive. He turned to look at Tracy and felt a sense of Fatherly pride. That she was afraid was apparent. But she was still ready to move. Walter glanced back over at Michael and nodded. "Ready," he said. Then he watched as Michael headed out the door.
*************
What happened next seemed like a blur of motion and sound. Somehow, Michael had managed to clear them a path to freedom. Walter had felt his adrenaline pumping as he fired at anything that moved in an attempt to keep Tracy safe. He sensed Birkoff close behind them as they ran out of the building. Then, all of the sudden, they were home free and back in the car. Walter had slid behind the wheel and was just turning the key in the ignition when he heard the explosion. He glanced up in time to see the warehouse go up in flames. Michael came out of the smoke, running towards them, and Walter grinned at him. "Cherry bomb special?" he asked.
Michael nodded, offering a slight smile in return. "One of your better inventions, Walter," he acknowledged, graciously. Glancing down at his watch, MIchael gestured for Birkhoff and Tracy to get into the car. "We need to move," he said, sliding into the back seat beside the young woman.
"Where too?" Walter questioned, as he put the car into drive.
"Winthrop docks," Michael replied.
Walter nodded and drove off.
*************
Michael had arranged for passage for Tracy on board a cruise ship heading to the Bahamas. She would meet up with it at dawn, being taxied there in a yacht that belonged to an acquaintance of Michael's. Waiting for her was a passport, various forms of ID with her new name on it. There was luggage with several changes of clothing and ten thousand dollars in cash.
Walter was amazed at what Michael had accomplished, as well as grateful. He stood beside the car, next to Birkhoff, watching as his daughter and Michael said goodbye.
"I'm sorry that it has to end this way," Tracy was saying, as she allowed herself to absorb Michael's features. She wanted to remember how beautiful he was.
"It's been...interesting," Michael allowed. "Enjoy your new life," he entreatied, a part of him acknowledging that he was envious of her.
Tracy nodded. "I will. I want to thank you, MIchael," she said softly, one hand lifting to tuck a brown curl behind his ear.
He shook his head. "Don't thank me. Just keep your word."
"Deal," she replied, hearing the chill in his tone. Michael was referring to the programs she had created. Tracy had given him the location where she had hidden them and had promised not to recreate them, or create new ones. 'You'll regret it if you do,' Michael had told her, and she believed him. He was beautiful and sexy, but also deadly. She had seen that first hand. Tracy had no doubt that he could kill her as easily as he could make love to her. A fact which excited her, even as it terrified her. "I guess this is goodbye," she whispered, raising on tiptoe, to brush a kiss across his sensual lips.
"Goodbye," Michael said, then he turned and walked away, feeling Tracy's eyes on his back. When he reached the car he said to Walter, "You haven't much time."
Walter frowned at him. "For what?" he countered.
Michael was surprised by the question. "To tell Tracy who you are. And to say goodbye," he replied.
"I'm not going to tell her," Walter stated, firmly. He smiled at the stunned look on Birkhoff's face. Michael, of course, wore his usual mask. "It's better that she doesn't know," Walter explained, as much for his benefit as for Birkhoff's. "I was never a part of her past, won't be a part of her future....so why mess up her present?"
"Of course," MIchael replied softly, for he fully understood Walter's reasoning. He did, however, reach out and pat the older man's shoulder, before sliding into the passenger's seat of the car.
Walter found himself blinking back tears as he moved around to the driver's side. He waited for Birkhoff to slip into the back, then he started the car and drove off. It had been a long night, but it wasn't over yet. They still had to face Operations.
*************
Nikita had been furious when she woke up in Walter's quarters. Eight hours had passed and Nikita was ready to explode, but even as she stalked the corridors of Section One in search of the old man, Madeline caught up with her.
"I need a favor," the dark haired woman said, a smile curving her lips as she studied Nikita from head to toe. She saw fury flash in the younger woman's blue eyes and it amused her. Madeline knew all.
"A favor," Nikita echoed. "What do you mean?"
Madeline took Nikita's arm and led her off down the hallway, towards Medlab. "It seems that Michael, Walter and Birkhoff had a boy's night out."
NIkita was intrigued. "Really?" she drawled.
"Yes," Madeline replied. "But it was mission related, so they need to be debriefed. Operations is talking to Birkhoff, I'll handle Walter, but we'd like you to speak with Michael."
"Why?" Nikita countered, instantly suspicious.
Madeline shrugged. "It's late, and we'd all like to get some sleep." She paused to smile, then ammended," Some of us would." This in reference to the fact that Nikita had just awakened from a long nap.
Grimacing, Nikita shrugged off Madeline's hand. "So...where is Michael?" she questioned, even as she realized that they were standing before the double doors of Medlab. Her eyes widened. "Is he all right?"
"Of course," Madeline said softly. "Michael is like a cat. He has nine lives." And, so saying, Madeline turned and headed off, leaving Nikita to forge her way alone.
*************
Michael was lying in bed, covered with a sheet and blanket and hooked up to an IV. He hadn't wanted to stay in Medlab, but the doctors, and Madeline, had threatened to put him in restraints if he didn't stay put for at least twenty-four hours. So Michael resigned himself to a stretch of down time. He was just about nodding off, thanks to the pain killers, when he sensed a presence. "Nikita," he said softly.
She glided over to the bed, a shy smile on her face. "How do you feel?" Nikita asked, her eyes flickering over MIchael to reassure herself that he was all right. She saw the white bandage on his left shoulder, only partially hidden by the white tank top he wore.
"I'm allright," Michael replied. He was surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to debrief you," Nikita confessed. She had expected Michael to be surprised, but was disappointed when all he did was nod. "Madeline asked me to see you." There was a chair in the corner and Nikita grabbed it and moved it to the side of the bed, then she straddled it, resting her arms over the back of it. "So....what happened?" she inquired, taking her job seriously. If only because she wanted to sate her curiousity.
Michael shrugged, ignoring the pain that stabbed in his shoulder at the movement. "I went looking for Tracy," he replied.
Nikita nodded. "And? Did you find her?"
"Yes," Michael said. That was all. He wasn't about to go into details.
"Were Walter and Birkhoff with you?" Nikita prompted.
A flicker of a smile curved Michael's lips. "They were," he conceded. Then he waited, knowing that his consise answers were irritating Nikita.
She glared at him. "Where is Tracy now?" Nikita demanded. She knew what Michael was doing and was angry at herself for getting upset, but the man knew how to get under her skin.
"Dead," Michael replied, dropping his eyes to his lap. It wasn't exactly a lie, for Tracy had died on paper. Her new name was Laura.
"How did you get shot?" Nikita asked, deciding to change tactics.
Michael had to smother a grin as he replied, "Forgot to duck."
Nikita had had enough. "You're making this hard on yourself, Michael," she told him, her eyes flashing. "Operations is going to want to know what happened."
"It doesn't matter," Michael shot back, his eyes locking on Nikita's face. He knew that part of the reason she was so angry was because she was concerned...about him. But it was best that she remained in the dark. "I got what we needed," Michael said softly. "Before she died, Tracy gave me her programs. We have closure."
"Oh," Nikita replied, letting her body relax again as relief flooded through her. She knew that Operations would be satisfied with that. The ends always justified the means at Section. "I guess that's all then," Nikita said softly, as she stood up and returned the chair to the corner. "Get some rest, MIchael," she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. That he allowed it pleased Nikita, and she left his room with a smile on her face. She was still in the dark as to what had happened, but she was glad that Michael was okay. For now, that was enough. For Section, that was the best you could hope for.
Once Nikita was gone, Michael ripped the IV off the back of his hand. He would probably be reprimanded for leaving Medlab, but he didn't care. There was something that he needed to do.
*************
Walter found Michael in his office, tying away at his laptop. He shook a finger at the younger man. "Aren't you supposed to be in Medlab?" he chided, teasingly. He knew that Michael hated Medlab, and it was a running joke that the young operative was a relative of superman, so bullets and the like didn't faze him.
Glancing up from his computer screen Michael asked, "Did you want something?" As he was right in the middle of completing a journal entry, Michael was a bit peeved at being interrupted.
"I wanted to thank you for helping me, and my daughter," Walter replied, knowing that Michael preferred to be direct. "I owe you one."
"You don't owe me anything," Michael replied, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm glad I could help."
Walter nodded. He saw a flicker of something in Michael's eyes, that brought back a flash of memory. Of a happy time, when Michael used to smile. A time when he, Simone and their son had been a family. A time that seemed so long ago. Not surprising that Michael would be thinking of that now, and Walter realized that he had intruded on those memories, so he shuffled back towards the door. "If you ever need anything....you just ask," Walter declared. "Deal?"
Michael nodded. "Deal."
"Good night, Michael," Watler said, as he turned to walk out.
"Good night," Michael echoed, watcing the other man leave. He wondered how grateful Walter would have been had he known Michael's intentions towards Tracy. That Michael had planned to get himself caught so that he could test Tracy's loyalties. Had she proven herself bound to Legion, Michael wouldn't have hesitated to cancel her, even though it would have meant his own demise at Legion's hands. Michael had even arranged for Walter and Birkhoff to show up at the warehouse. He had known about the tracker in his watch, and had relied on Walter, Birkhoff and Nikita being true to their character, just as they had been. Michael had wanted Nikita safe, but he knew he would need back up, and Walter and Birkhoff would have to be it. In the aftermath, he was glad that things had turned out the way they had. The scenario could have had quite a different, and tragic, ending.
But Michael pushed such thoughts aside as he returned his attention to his monitor. He was nearing the end of his entry. After taking a moment to reread what he had already written, Michael proceded to finish his train of thought.
I USED TO WONDER IF IT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN BETTER HAD YOU NEVER BEEN BORN. BUT I HAVE NO REGRETS FOR HAVING KNOWN YOU, AND LOVED YOU, EVEN IF ONLY FOR A BRIEF...SHINING...MOMENT IN TIME. MAY THE ANGELS KEEP WATCH OVER YOU IN HEAVEN, CHRISTOPHE.
DADDY LOVES YOU...FOREVER.
End of journal entry.....10/1/97
Blinking back tears, Michael hit the save key, then he shut down his computer. Reaching for the swtich on the lamp, he turned it off, plunging the room into heavy blackness. But in the darkness danced the shadows. Memories of an innocent face and and the echo of sweet laughter. And a smile curved Michael's lips as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember.
THE END
Send suggestions or comments to Shelly