Disclaimer: Hannah Jamison belongs to me. Clayton Webb belongs to David Bellisario, Cathryne Corelli belongs to Pat Steiner. Lora Summerall belongs to Erin. Now that we've established who owns which toys, LET'S PLAY!!!

Author's note: I took some liberties with the real-life people in this story (i.e. ambassadors and their staff members), so please take my characterizations of them as fictional.
 

Turkish Consulate 
Ankara, Turkey 
2230 ZULU

The tinkling of bright laughter echoed gaily through the hall, while the almost invisible wait staff was now clearing the remnants of the sumptuous dinner. Men and women in formal dress waltzed around the large dance area to the elegant strains of the string octet that paid homage to the great maestros of the past. 

The Countess D'Anjoube, richly bedecked in a moss green chiffon gown, was honored by the host, Andrew Walker, an aide to the American ambassador, with the first dance of the evening. The pair traveled around the floor in easy time with the music. One, two, three. One, two, three. 

Smiling brightly at her partner, the Countess surreptitiously cased the room, searching for the one person that had to be there. She nodded absently at something her partner had just said, her concentration instead focused on the onlookers, knowing instinctively that something was about to happen. 

Shoving her disgust with the boring, but very sexually-laden, repartee her partner continued to try and coax her into, the Countess felt the sudden longing for her familiar fatigues instead of the insanely high heels and tight-fitting gown she now wore. Hannah bit back a groan as she felt the man's hand yet again stray down her exposed back.

'Why did I wear this?' she thought for the hundredth time. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the signal she'd been waiting for all night and slowly opened her mind to scan the room. 

A familiar touch pulled her away from her intended target, and shocked by the touch's identity, she stumbled. Eyes wide with surprise, she murmured an apology to her partner, who courteously asked if she would like to sit down and catch her breath. She nodded her assent and allowed herself to be led toward a row of chairs at the far end of the hall. 

The crush of dancers continued their elegant pace, oblivious to the loss of the two participants. Sinking gratefully into a waiting chair, Hannah bit the inside of her cheek. 'What the hell is he doing here?' she thought rhetorically. 

She couldn't see him, but Hannah would know his presence anywhere. A hearty laugh blended with the strings, and she vaguely realized that, although she'd never heard him do so, he was the one laughing. 'Shit! Yet another complication,' she cursed silently as she accepted the glass of champagne her partner had mysteriously plucked out of the air.

'It sounds like he's enjoying himself, so he must not be here on business.'

The crowd parted somewhat and Hannah got her first visible look at him. 'Damn, he looks good in a tux. I wonder...'

And then she watched as a young woman, who filled out her red gown spectacularly, slinked her arm around his neck and thoroughly kissed him in front of God and everybody. The leap of joy Hannah felt in her heart sank and chilled to sub-zero temperatures. 'You knew it would happen some day,' she reminded herself curtly. 'You <knew> he wouldn't wait forever.'

But damn, did she have to witness it first hand? "Damn you, Clay," she muttered and rose, intent on leaving the room. Just as she stood, he broke the kiss and like a radar, honed in and locked his gaze on hers. 

Unwilling, or unable-she wasn't sure which at the moment-to deal with the situation, Hannah swallowed once and turned away, her gait steady and almost regal. She would have fooled him had he not seen the painful accusation in her eyes.

"Ah, shit!" he cursed under his breath.

"Clay?" asked his date curiously. 

Heaving a sigh, he muttered, "There's more going on here than we thought," then followed the retreating figure out to one of the many balconies.

***

She had worn a wig and darkened her skin with make-up, but one look into those eyes, and Clay knew it was Hannah. And what she had seen was not what she had seen. 'God, why does it always feel like I'm screwing up with her?' His remorse was quickly replaced by irritation. 'And why should I have to explain myself and my actions?' he asked himself even as he searched the deserted balcony that opened off of the main hall. 'She was the one who chose to leave, to go back to ops. What else was I supposed to do, but go back to my job, too?'

His rampant thoughts ended as his eyes latched onto a figure who stood in the shadows just outside the door to the balcony. The white of the moon gleamed against the marble fa?ade, highlighting the glossy dark strands of her wig. Unable to move, he merely watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she struggled to bring her breathing back down to a normal rate. At length, he raised a hand and gently slid it down her bare back. "Hannah," he murmured, his tone more of a caress than his movement. 

She jerked visibly, but then closed her eyes and relaxed into the feel of his fingers against her skin. It had been so long since that night in his apartment. And yet, the feelings remained. She felt her pulse quicken as he moved closer to her, bringing both hands to play along the smooth lines of her back. She stifled a gasp of pleasure when his lips joined the foray, placing soft butterfly kisses along her neck and shoulders. 

"Clay..." she moaned, barely able to think in the burgeoning haze that surrounded her.

His warm breath tickled her nape as he whispered, "God, I've missed you."

Just as she started to open her mind to him, to restore the past bond, his words registered and she yanked herself out of his grasp. Turning, she spat, "It didn't look like that a few minutes ago!" 

His lust changed to rage in a split second and he gripped her shoulder, forcefully tugging her back to him.

Before he could speak, she continued, "So, tell me something, Clay. Do you make a habit of sleeping with all your partners?" Her chest heaved with the heady mixture of arousal and anger as she watched his eyes narrow to foreboding slits.

He smiled evilly. "Why shouldn't I? You apparently do."

"What the hell is <that> supposed to mean?" she cried as she tried to wrench herself away from his bruising grasp.

He shook his head with disbelief. "Did you think I wouldn't check out your past when we first worked together? I read the file. Major Charles Buchanan? Does that name ring a bell?"

With her free hand, she slapped him hard, her skin stinging with the contact. He increased his punishing grip and murmured, "I guess it does. You know I talked to him," he continued conversationally. "He still works at the Pentagon, but he's still a major. Tell me, Hannah, what-or is it who--exactly did you do to kill his career? Should I be expecting something like that?"

Hannah shook violently, her anger overwhelming. Unable to speak, she maintained a stony silence.

"And you know what hurt the most?" Clay paused a moment, almost as if he expected her to answer. "I had to find out from someone else. Do you know what that felt like? To think that what we had was just Standard Operating Procedure with you?" The lethal combination of his emotions overwhelmed him and he raised a trembling hand to her cheek. "I loved you. I was willing to wait forever if I could have you..."

Feeling the grip on her arm loosen, she jerked away. "So, what? Instead of asking <me> about the whole situation, you decide to blithely go on and get involved with someone else?"

"Asking <you>?" he cried and stepped closer to her. "How was I to supposed to ask if I couldn't <find> you?"

"How <dare> you throw my job back at me! You knew going into this, just as I did, that our jobs were important to us. You have no right to go there!" she cried as she turned away and gripped the balcony railing tightly, her knuckles gleaming under the paleness of the moon. "No right at all," she whispered as she choked back the sudden tears.

From behind her, Clay cursed softly. "That was a low blow," he murmured, moving to stand beside her, but making no move to touch her again. 

They stood in silence, each nursing the gaping wounds that the other had inflicted. At length, Hannah released the railing and tentatively slid her hand over to cover his. He turned his own and threaded their fingers together, offering and accepting silent apologies. The tension eased and then melted away completely when he pulled her into his arms. 

She fit perfectly, just as he knew she would. Bringing their still linked fingers to his lips, he kissed the back of her hand, then drew them closer so that they rested against his chest. Hannah nuzzled her head into the hollow of his neck and breathed in the masculine combination of his cologne and natural scent. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she would dream he was there, sleeping beside her. And sometimes when she woke, she could swear she smelled him on her pillows. 

Hannah bit her lip, not wanting to break the comforting moment, but needing to know. "Who is she to you?" she asked softly, hating the weakness in her words, the need in her tone. 

Above her, she could feel Clay smile. She felt the low rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest and she knew it was with irony. After a moment, he murmured, "Absolutely nothing. She's helping me on an op. Nothing more." He squeezed her tighter and soothed, "The kiss was for show. She's supposed to be my girl friend."

The last vestiges of hurt disappeared with his words. Hannah snuggled closer to him and muttered wryly, "Well, you didn't have to enjoy it so much!"

Chuckling, he pulled away slightly and, gazing into her hazel pools, asked, "How could I? She wasn't you."

Hannah's eyes lit up at his words and she whispered, "Good answer," before sealing her lips to his. 

There was nothing tentative in their kiss. Her hot, open mouth traced his soft lower lip before it parted and his tongue twined with hers. Clay trailed his hands down her back, scalding her with their heat, until they met fabric at the small of her back. He gripped her hips and tugged her lower body closer. They both gasped as their bodies connected, and she melted against him, absorbing the hard planes of his body into her curves. 

Hannah broke the kiss a moment later and dropped hungry kisses along his jaw and neck. Allowing the reality of the moment to wash over him, Clay squeezed her through the scratchy material of her dress, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure. He slid his hands up her back and lowered his head to capture her lips once more. 

Hannah weaved her fingers through his hair and tilted his head slightly, allowing them both better access to the heated recesses of their mouths. Lips, teeth, and tongues danced together, stoking the fiery arousal to new levels. 

Neither noticed that they were no longer alone. 

The new arrival glanced uncertainly back to the Hall and then again to the couple. After a moment of consideration, she cleared her throat loudly. No impact. With a wry shake of her head and a stifled smile, she called out in an authoritative tone, "Atten-hut!" knowing that one of them would most certainly respond.

And respond she did. Hannah jumped away from Clay and stood almost at attention. 

Still dazed, he asked, "Wha-?" Then, seeing his partner, his eyes narrowed. "Lora, there had better be a good reason for this!"

Hannah glanced between the two agents and, bewildered, asked, "How did you know?"

"That you're a Marine or that you two were out here?" the other woman asked with a slight smile, her iron gray eyes sparkling. Not waiting for clarification, she continued, "Everyone in my business knows who you are, Colonel. And, as for the location, I'm not a trained agent for nothing." She sobered an instant later and murmured, "Clay, we need to get back in there. Otherwise, we'll lose our chance. And you, Colonel, I'm sure have your own operation to get back to."

Hannah nodded and tossed a silent question at Clay. He nodded once and introduced, "Lt. Col. Hannah Jamison, this is Lt. Col. Lora Summerall, attached to the NCIS but on loan to the CIA from time to time." Clay's brow knit as his mind flitted back to Lora's words. "What <are> you doing here, Hannah?" he asked.

Nodding toward Summerall, she replied, "She's right. I am here on an op. But now isn't the time to discuss it. We do need to get back. I, especially, before the host notices my absence."

Clay peered intently at Hannah and silently asked, 'When? Where?'

Quirking her lips, she lightly touched his cheek and murmured, "Soon, and don't worry, I'll find you."

He nodded and offered her a smile ripe with memory and promise, which she answered with one of her own. Squeezing her hand once, he turned and, nodding to his partner, headed back toward the party.

Lora placed a staying hand on Hannah's arm and when she turned around, Clay's partner murmured, "You know, he's never talked about you, but there's always been something in his eyes. Something that says, 'Taken.'" Lora smiled softly into the other woman's confused face. "And now I know why."

Stunned by her words, Hannah stood, rooted in place, and watched the woman walk back toward the Hall. 

***

Turkish Consulate 
Ankara, Turkey 
2258 ZULU

Hannah glanced around the still-packed ballroom in search of her source. Chastising herself for the break in her resolve, she nonetheless realized that it was better to reconnect with Clay first so she could concentrate on the mission at hand. Just as she'd spotted her informant, a papery thin hand caressed the line of her shoulder. 

"My dear, I thought you might have disappeared on me," Walker murmured into her ear. His alcohol-laced breath sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. Taking her reaction as an invitation, he slowly trailed his hand down her arm and clasped her hand, pulling her back to the dance floor. "I believe we never finished our dance," he reminded with a wolfish smile. 

Hannah forced herself to smile demurely and answered, "I'm sorry, but I do believe the musicians are putting away their instruments." Easing her hand out of his grip, she continued, "I guess we will just have to wait for another time."

He shook his head and placed a heavy finger against her lips. "Shhh...nothing will keep me from another dance with you. The politically correct musicians are leaving," he tilted his head slightly toward the stage, "but if you will look over in the corner, you will see what is coming."

She turned toward the far wall and, sure enough, another group of musicians stood unpacking mysterious looking objects. These men and women didn't wear the tuxedos of the octet. Instead, they sported the flowing robes of their nativity. Hannah shuddered involuntarily when the aide slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward the dance floor.

"So you see?" he began brightly, "It looks as if we shall dance once more."

Hannah stifled a groan and wracked her brain for some way to get out of there.

On the other side of the room, Clayton Webb watched the interchange with increasing irritation. He was about to charge over to the pair and physically pull that leach off of Hannah when he felt someone wrap her fingers around his arm. 

"She's a big girl," Lora hissed, "and a Marine to boot. She can take care of herself." Seeing that her words were having little effect on him, she jerked him around so that he faced her. "Dammit, Clay! If you go over there and do what I <know> you want to do, you will not only succeed in blowing our covers, you'll probably destroy hers as well. How much jeopardy do you think she'd be in then?" 

Lora pierced him with a fierce gaze, willing him to hear and understand her argument. "I can damn well assure you it will be a helluva lot worse than some drunk low-level diplomat who can't keep his hands to himself." She sighed softly and went for the jugular. "Besides, how do you know you won't ruin your chances with her?"

Clay pursed his lips and looked at some unseen point over her shoulder. Knowing she was absolutely right still didn't ease the fierce need to protect the woman he loved. He waited until the unaccustomed animal instinct faded to a dull pull and then glanced back over his shoulder. Hannah had eased herself out of the aide's arms and was animatedly gesturing to someone in the crowd. A moment later, Walker's aide appeared and led the older man off to one of the chairs at the side of the room.

'Whew!' Hannah thought with a rush of relief. 'Thank God for self defense training.' It had been relatively simple to incapacitate the man once they'd begun dancing. A quick jab to one of the nerves in his neck and it was easy to pass off the result as faintness. Or better yet, as she had done, to convince an already knowledgeable crowd that the man had had too much to drink and was now unable to hold his liquor. 

The corners of her mouth curved slightly as she peered through the crowd. Thankfully, her informant had waited. Casting an unconcerned gaze around the room, she eased her way through the crowd and followed the little woman out into the hallway.

"See? What did I tell you?" Lora asked as she slid her arm through Clay's. "And you didn't even have to make a scene. It's amazing what they're teaching in the military these days, isn't it?" she continued with false sweetness, knowing she had won and also subtly reminding her partner that he owed her one.

Clay nodded absently as his eyes followed Hannah out of the room. As soon as she'd left, he released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "OK, then," he muttered, trying to steer the conversation back to their op. "Let's get back to work."

Lora, all business now, nodded and squeezed his arm. "There he is. Let's go."

***

Hannah followed the small woman out into the main hall and watched as she jerked her head toward a closed door. With a quick nod, the colonel entered the room and found, much to her relief, exactly what she'd hoped to find. A long flowing gown and Turkish robe lay over one of the ornate chairs that sat at odd intervals around the room. Taking a quick glance around, she realized that this was the state room. It was dark with the exception of a single lamp in the middle of the table. 

After unzipping and stepping out of her dress, Hannah slid the soft gown and camel-hair robe on. She quickly unpinned her wig and stuffed all of the items into the duffel bag that was tucked under one of the chairs. Pulling the hood of the robe over her head to disguise her blonde hair, she slung the bag over her shoulder and peeked out the door. Hannah sighed softly. So far, so good. Quietly, she shut the door and walked down the long hallway away from the party. 

The Turkish woman waited in an alcove further down the hall. When Hannah had reached her, the other woman took the bag and handed it to someone hidden in the shadows. Silently, she jerked her head toward the main door and the two women eased across the hall. 

Once outside, they slid into the shadows, carefully avoiding the waiting chauffeurs, and hopped into an older Toyota. The driver gunned the engine and drove away. The two women watched to make sure no one had followed them. Having decided they were safe, Hannah turned and asked, "Did you get them, Rahina?"

The Turk smiled softly. "Not a problem. What about the code? Were you able to find its location?"

Hannah shook her head and thought back to Clay. "No, I was...interrupted." Hoping to distract the woman, she glanced off into the fast disappearing cityscape. 

"Gaplang Ayal," Rahina began, using the nickname the woman had given Hannah on one of her previous ops. Roughly translated, it meant "tiger woman," a name the colonel had lived up to on many occasions. The other woman's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she mused, "you disappeared for a time. With a man."

Hannah's head snapped back to her companion. Opening her mind a little, she tried to judge what the other woman was thinking. Though it wasn't really her problem, Hannah couldn't blow Clay's cover. Reading only idle curiosity with no underlying malice, she shrugged. "He was good looking. And much more interesting than my partner."

Rahina shook her head ruefully. "I am sorry about that. I should have warned you that Andrew Walker is unable to hold his liquor."

"It's a wonder he's made it this far," Hannah muttered under her breath. She glanced back at her companion and shared a wry smile. 

***

"Mr. Ambassador!" Lora crooned delightedly. "It's <so> good to finally meet you!" Michael Jeffries, the U.S. ambassador to Turkey, stood in the middle of a group of Turkish politicians and glanced curiously at the obvious interloper.

Clearing his throat, he greeted, "Yes, and you would be?" Clay grasped the man's extended hand and pumped it hard.

"I'm Edward James and this is Elaine Fellows!" Webb introduced as he released Jeffries' hand only to watch Lora capture it within her own. "We maintain several business interests in Turkey, and, I have to say, we're great fans of your career. What you've been able to do here is just amazing!"

"Yes," Lora gushed, "simply amazing! In fact, we were wondering if you might have some time tomorrow to discuss some of the policy issues surrounding trade in this country." 

Clay watched the ambassador's reaction to her invitation of sorts, looking for any reluctance. Jeffries paused a moment, obviously completing a mental search for any way to get out of the meeting. Seeing his hesitation, Webb pressed, "It would be such a bonus in exposure for your work here. As you know, the U.S. relations with Turkey are always in need of a little promotion with the private sector back home."

Lora peered intently at the ambassador and smiled engagingly as the man's reluctance began to melt away. At length, he smiled and murmured, "I would be delighted. Why don't you speak with my secretary in the morning and set up an appointment?"

Webb smiled in return and answered brightly, "I'll give her a call first thing. And thank you, Mr. Ambassador. It truly was an honor." 

Jeffries nodded pleasantly, then eased his way back through the crowd to his former companions. Lora and Clay traded a meaningful look. 

The game had begun.

***

US Embassy 
Ankara, Turkey 
0813 ZULU

Michael Jeffries sat at his desk and cradled an 8x10 frame in his hands. With one finger, he traced over the image, then shook his head. "Aaron," he murmured. It had been three days since his son had turned up missing. Three days since he'd gotten the phone call that told him he held the boy's life in his hands. It was every father's worst nightmare. And yet, on some level, he was relieved. Thankful, in fact, that his wife, Patricia, wasn't alive to suffer through this hell with him. He picked up the small 5x7 framed picture of a lovely brunette woman that sat right next to the picture of his son.

She had died two years ago while they'd been on a safari in Kenya. One little mosquito and all of his dreams for their future fell in broken shards at his feet. Aaron hadn't really been old enough to appreciate how great the loss of his mother was, but Michael himself had been devastated. 

The sharp staccato of the ringing phone jerked him out of his memories and back to the present. With a heavy heart, he set aside the pictures and picked up the phone.

"Mr. Jeffries," greeted the familiar voice of the CIA director, "I've recommended that a special investigative team be placed on the search for your son. They will be by your office later today to ask you a few questions to get a better grasp on the situation."

The ambassador closed his eyes and sighed. Nodding with resignation, he agreed, "That will be fine. Have them come at their earliest convenience. I should be in the office all day."

With a few parting words, Jeffries hung up and leaned heavily on his desk, one hand still gripping the phone. 'What the hell do I do now?' he wondered bleakly.

***

Unknown Location 
0829 ZULU

Cold. It was so cold. Especially for the middle of the summer. The little boy hunched his shoulders and gripped his arms tighter around his legs trying to dispel the slight shudder that rippled through his body. 

'I <know> I wasn't supposed to play by the fountain, but it was such a hot day. No one would've missed me.' He blinked back the tears that burned in the back of his eyes. 'Dad's always busy with something about Turkey. He never has time for me anymore.'

He gasped sharply as the sound of the dead bolt in the door slid away. "No, no, no, no, no," he whispered. "I will not be scared. I will not be scared." Biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling, he scooted further back onto the cot. They hadn't hurt him yet, but there was something in the eyes of one of his guards. Something that frightened him.

This time, a woman entered. She was new, but the slight odor of overcooked food was not. The little boy's stomach growled in spite of the unappetizing scent and the woman smiled kindly.

Setting the tray on the rickety table that stood in the front corner of the room, she slowly approached him and sat on the edge of the cot. The mattress dipped suddenly under her weight and Aaron had to dig his heels into the sheets to keep from sliding toward her.

"It is alright. We won't hurt you, I promise," she swore in a soft, accented voice. "Your father merely needed some incentive to do the right thing."

"My father always does the right thing," the boy argued stoutly. "He always says he carefully considers every situation before choosing which way he'll go. He doesn't need help from you!"

The woman smiled at his brave words and nodded. "Normally, little one, you are correct. But in this instance, he needed some persuasion to choose the proper destination."

Aaron shrugged and looked away. "Well, you picked the wrong thing to take, then. My father doesn't count me as high on his list of priorities, so I don't think he'll be in any hurry to get me back."

A secretive smile slipped across her lips. "We will see," she murmured and rose. Without another look back, she left, sliding the bolt home with the loud smack of finality. 

***

US Embassy 
Ankara, Turkey 
1004 ZULU

Ambassador Jeffries looked up from his intense perusal of his son's picture as the intercom sounded. "Mr. Ambassador," greeted his secretary. "An Edward James and Elaine Fellows are here to see you, sir."

He nodded and told her to send them in. Resolutely, he shoved his concerns for Aaron's safety into the back of his mind. No one, other than the CIA and his immediate household, knew of his son's disappearance, a fact which had been at the top of the kidnappers' demands. Jeffries stood and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles out of his coat just as the door to his office opened.

"Ah, Mr. James, Ms. Fellows! It's good to see you again. I trust last night's party was entertaining?"

Webb nodded as he shook the other man's hand. "To say the least." Once the door had closed, Lora whipped out a small device from one of the deep pockets in her suit coat and began waving it around the room.

Clay waited until she nodded her head and murmured, "All clear," before he spoke again. Seeing the ambassador's confusion, the agent remarked, "We're the CIA agents assigned to finding your son."

Jeffries shook his head and answered, "So it was all a cover? Last night?"

"Come now, Ambassador," Clay berated lightly as he moved to take a seat in one of the arm chairs in front of the desk. "Do you think the CIA would just waltz in here and tell the whole world they were looking for your son?"

Jeffries spread his hands helplessly and sat back in his chair. "With the CIA, no one ever knows how they will handle something."

Lora snorted and murmured, "Point taken." She picked up the picture of the boy, glancing toward the official with a questioning look. "Is this him?"

He nodded and smiled wanly. "Aaron. He's seven. His birthday is next week." The diplomat shook his head and murmured, "I was planning on taking him to EuroDisney. He's never been to any of the parks and he's always talked about wanting to go."

Webb's stoic features softened almost imperceptibly as he soothed, "We'll find your son, sir." The agent rose from the chair and began to pace around the room. "But what we need are details. Have the kidnappers contacted you? What are their demands? Do you have any ideas as to who it might be?"

"Clay!" Lora chastised. "Let him get a word in edgewise."

Grimacing slightly, Webb retook his seat and gestured for Jeffries to take over.

The ambassador placed his elbows on his desk and cradled his head in his hands. "I have no idea who they are," he began softly. "But they've threatened to kill him if I don't meet their demands."

"Which are?" prompted Summerall when it looked as if Jeffries was not going to continue.

He looked up and answered, "Three million dollars and safe passage to Rio."

Clay's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing there was more to the story. "If that's the case, then why didn't you contact State immediately?"

The ambassador's face paled as he looked at the agent. "Are you crazy? They'll kill him! And I would like to see my son celebrate his eighth birthday!"

Shooting Webb a sharp glare, Lora covered, "What my partner means, Mr. Ambassador, is State would have provided you the money for the negotiations. With no strings attached. As a high-ranking diplomat, you must know this."

"I-I guess I'd just forgotten," he murmured, glancing away from the pair.

Clay leaned forward in his chair, closing in for the kill. "With all <due> respect, Mr. Jeffries, you may be a helluva negotiator, but you're a terrible liar." He watched as the man's face crumpled, his guilt-ridden features softening. "Now, why don't you tell us what really happened."

The diplomat offered the pair a self-deprecating smile and murmured, "That's what my wife used to tell me." Rising from his chair, he walked to the far wall and stared at one of the many hunt scenes that hung in the office. He was silent for a pair of minutes, but at length, began. 

"When my son was taken yesterday morning, the kidnappers called before I'd even known he was missing. I'd been in a meeting and, since school is out for the local holidays, Aaron had been with the nanny. She was planning on taking him to the park to play soccer with his friends." 

Jeffries absently fingered the gold wedding band on his left hand as he continued. "The meeting was just about over when my secretary, Kim, interrupted saying I had an urgent call. I took it, of course, and the voice on the other end of the line said he had my son."

"He?" Lora asked with an upraised eyebrow. "Oh, sorry, a figure of speech. The voice was distorted so I couldn't tell if the caller was male or female." He gestured helplessly and turned back to his study of the painting. "I wasn't lying when I said they demanded something in trade for his safe return. But they don't want money, they want the encryption key." 

He shook his head and turned back to the agents. "I know you must have heard the debates on ZNN and the other news shows. My appointment to this position was precarious at best and when I came out in support of a joint effort to construct an encryption code for use by the Turks, my popularity in certain circles back home hit an all-time low. And now I'm being forced to give over the key..."

Clay rose from his chair and eagerly approached the diplomat. "So, someone stole the encryption software?"

The ambassador nodded grimly. "A week ago. It's being kept under wraps because of the highly sensitive nature of the deal to begin with. As you probably know, our relationship with Turkey is rather like the red headed stepchild. We know he exists, but we don't acknowledge his presence unless absolutely necessary."

Lora's lips quirked with grim mirth as she regarded the man closely. "I'm confused, Mr. Ambassador. How could they steal the software and not the key at the same time? Did they just overlook it?"

Sighing, Jeffries answered, "The key is stored in a separate location and the two are only brought together when decoding messages. The person in possession of the key changes daily and he or she is known merely by a code phrase. As part of the agreement between the two countries, the US Embassy was to be in possession, at all times, of a copy of the encryption key. It's a widely known fact; so I guess it wasn't a hard decision as to who to go after."

"Did they give you a deadline for when the key is to be handed over?" Summerall asked as she shifted in her chair.

"If I don't get them the key by noon tomorrow, then Aaron will be killed." 

The two agents shared a silent glance that said, 'We need to talk.' Lora nodded slightly then rose. "Mr. Jeffries, thank you for trusting us with the truth. We <will> get your son back. I promise." He shook her hand and then Webb's before escorting them to the door.

They murmured the usual parting greetings and just as the door opened, Lora gushed, "Oh, it was <so> nice to speak with you, Mr. Ambassador! I can't tell you how happy our shareholders will be when they hear the good news!"

Jeffries smiled broadly, playing along, and replied, "I'm glad that I was able to help you. I look forward to seeing you again sometime!"

"The next time you're in D.C.," Clay interjected, "look us up. We'd love to take you to dinner. Wouldn't we, sweetheart?"

Summerall plastered on her brightest smile and answered, "Oh, that we would!"

The two agents nodded briefly at the diplomat's secretary, while they continued their animated conversation about their business concerns. Jeffries watched as they walked away and then accepted the phone messages that Kim held out to him before returning to the safety of his office. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it. 

"God, please let me have done the right thing."

***

Safehouse 
30 miles outside Ankara, Turkey 
1319 ZULU

Hannah scrubbed her eyes and blinked a couple of times trying to focus. It was times like these when she hated black ops. No one had ever told her how much research and paperwork was involved. She and Rahina had been poring for hours over the files the Turk had stolen last night at the embassy ball. 

Only a few key people knew of the missing encryption code, and even fewer still were aware that a joint Turkish-American investigation had ensued. The only problem was, Hannah hadn't been invited to the party. For that matter, the American segment of the investigative team consisted of two members of the embassy's senior staff. A fact which troubled the colonel to no end.

"<Why> wouldn't they assign someone with an outside perspective to this?" she mused under her breath. 

The Turk cocked her head as she thoughtfully considered the other woman's statement. "They obviously do not want to worry the public..."

"Or hear the politicians to say 'I told you so,'" Hannah muttered. She leaned back in her chair and reached for her lukewarm cup of coffee. With a grimace, she swallowed the last gulp and set the mug aside in favor of the papers on the table. 

"So," Jamison remarked with a sigh, "what have we got?"

Rahina's brow furrowed as she reviewed several pages of hand-written notes. "The files are relatively complete, but I can tell that certain information has been omitted."

"Right," Hannah agreed. "Like the names of key players in the various groups. But those shouldn't be too hard to find out. Let's review the most likely's." The colonel rose and paced along the far wall.

The Turk nodded and began, "The Azat Indyuk, or Free Turkey, group is a radical offshoot of the Nationalist Action Party. They're small, but active." She flipped a series of pages, then continued. "While the investigative team makes no mention of him here, the leader is a man named Egemen Kandogan."

Hannah paused and cocked her head in Rahina's direction. "Know him?"

She shook her head, but peered thoughtfully at her notes. "Not personally, though his presence has been felt throughout the country. He's known for his extreme tactics and has used human shields in the past."

The colonel pursed her lips and nodded. "An all-around nice guy, then," she muttered grimly. "OK, and the other group?"

"The Miras Goramak, otherwise known as 'Inheritance Defenders.' Again, another offshoot, but they are more conservative. Not as widely known since they are new, however, they have a growing membership. Their political rhetoric is based on returning Turkey to past glory." The Turk bit her lip, hesitating a moment.

Hannah, knowing that her source would tell her the truth when she'd formed her thoughts, didn't begin the process of reading the other woman's mind. After a moment, Rahina murmured, "I <do> know this group."

The colonel nodded as if expecting such an answer. The Turk continued with a slight, sad smile, "My brother, Omer, is a member. He left our family when my father refused to support the ideas Omer began to believe in." She shrugged helplessly. "I have maintained contact with him so it would be easy enough for me to check them out."

Hannah returned to her seat and agreed, "Good idea. I'll take the Free Turkey group." Gathering up the files, the colonel allowed the other woman's hesitant fear wash over her. She placed a soothing hand on Rahina's arm and murmured, "I hope he's not involved in this."

The Turk offered Hannah a weak smile in return, the answered, "I pray it with all my heart."

***

Unknown location, Turkey 
1748 ZULU

"Erosa!" a male voice called. 

The woman looked up from her guard station outside the boy's door and answered in Turkish, "Allam, what is it?"

A lithe young man appeared from around the corner and slid the strap of his automatic rifle back up to its place on his shoulder. "Raheed says we need to move him. Make it easier for the trade tomorrow."

"Do you think Jeffries will really do it?" she asked, standing and adjusting her own weapon. Although she had told the boy that his father would trade the key for his son, she still had her doubts. The ambassador was known to be a hard-line negotiator and a lot was on the line. 

Allam shrugged and answered, "I don't know, but apparently Raheed is certain of the result. So, we must follow him."

"We follow him anyway," she muttered sliding the door bolt away and peering into the dark cell. In English, she spoke, "Come here, little one. We're taking a short trip."

Aaron blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light of the hallway. Uncurling his body from its tight fetal position, he sat up and stared at his two guards. The man was back. But at least she was with him. Maybe she would keep him from doing anything.

He bit his lip and tried to still his rapidly beating heart as the woman entered the room. Holding out her hand, he reluctantly took it and she led him out into the light.

***

Hannah lay prone on the top of a hill a few meters away from the building. Using her night goggles, she watched two men enter and then leave through one of the side doors. Her senses were at high alert as she lowered her mental shields to carefully scan the two Turks. 

'A child?' she thought with confusion. 'What are they doing with a child...' Understanding dawned as Rahina's words returned to her, 'he has used human shields.' "Shit!" she cursed softly. She had called in too many favors to get the group's location to turn back now. But as she watched the side door open once more, she found that they did indeed have a child with them. 

Unwilling to risk the boy's safety, she mentally recalculated her plan to get the encryption code back and decided that a little outside help might not be such a bad idea. 

 Merit Altinel Hotel 
Ankara, Turkey 
Room 49 
1837 ZULU

Clay ran a tired hand through his hair as he slipped the key card into the lock and waited for the red light to turn to green. Sighing with frustration as the light mockingly stayed red, he removed the card and jammed it into the slot again. He glared at the small light, daring it not to change, but after a second of two, it flickered to green. Clay turned the knob with relief and entered the darkened hotel room.

After questioning the nanny and coming up empty, he and Lora had looked through the ambassador's past, trying to find <someone> who would want to get even with him. And, as luck-or rather, bad luck-would have it, nothing had turned up. The man was not only popular with the local government, it seemed that he had endeared himself to the public as well. It was beginning to look as if the only people who <didn't> like him were the politicians back home. 

He shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it in the closet on one of the hotel-provided wooden hangers. Without turning on the light, Clay wandered into the bathroom and picked up the glass on the sink. He turned on the tap and waited until the water ran as cold as possible, then placed the cup under the stream. Turning the faucet off a moment later, he tugged out two aspirin from his dock kit and quickly swallowed them. Clay took a swig of water and walked back into the main room. 

Somewhere, someone <had> to have a grudge against Jeffries. 'Every kidnapping has a motive!' he thought with a frustrated sigh. And if they didn't find out whom, he could kiss the encryption key-and another gold star in his file-goodbye.

Clay had just set the glass down on the bureau and leaned against the wood surface, staring unseeing into the mirror, when a familiar voice asked, "Something wrong, lover?"

Soothed by her presence rather than startled, he smiled and focused his eyes on Hannah's reflection. "I guess you didn't need to scan me to figure <that> out, huh?" he asked with an ironic bite in his tone.

She smiled in return and climbed off of his bed, situating herself on the edge closest to him. Crooking her finger a couple of times, she eased back a bit, indicating he should join her. Clay nodded and sat in front of her. A moment later, he felt his frustration seep out of him as her fingers skillfully massaged away the kinks in his neck and shoulders.

"Are you <sure> there's no way I can convince you to leave ops?" he asked, his eyes closed so he could focus only on her hands. "You'd have a fabulous career as a masseuse!"

A low rumble of laughter answered him and Hannah's mind quickly completed the image Clay's joke had inadvertently created. 'What would it be like for this to be normal?' she mused. 'Clay coming home from a hard day at the office and me being there to greet him.' Picturing the scene, she mentally cringed. Too Suzy Homemaker for her. Shaking off the feeling, she murmured, "Speaking of ops..."

"Shh..." he replied, "let's just forget exactly why we're here for a moment." He leaned back into her touch and groaned as she hit a particularly sensitive spot in his shoulder. Slowly, the kink worked its way out and Hannah's deep massages turned to soft caresses, soothing rather than igniting. She smoothed her hands around to his chest and lay her cheek on his back, breathing in his natural scent. Clay lifted a hand and threaded their fingers together. 

Try as she might, the mental image of their life together would not disappear. 'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...I wouldn't <have> to resign my commission...and I could do other ops, more like Clay's rather than the deep cover ones I normally do..." Still contemplating what their future could be, Hannah absently rubbed her cheek against the smooth cotton of his dress shirt. 

They stayed entwined, each gaining comfort from the other, until a knock sounded on the door. Sighing, Clay murmured, "That'll be Lora. She wanted to check her email before we got back to the case."

Hannah bristled slightly at the knowledge that the other woman was planning on spending time in Clay's room. He felt her stiffen and squeezed their linked fingers. "She was checking to see if she got any messages from her husband."

She smiled against his back and loosened her grip on him. "I guess you'd better let her in then, huh?"

Reluctant to leave her embrace, he nonetheless knew that Summerall would pick the lock if he didn't answer. He sighed and offered Hannah a wry smile then rose and opened the door.

Lora stared pointedly at him, her eyebrows raised, and entered the room. "Oh! Colonel, I didn't realize you were here." She glanced uncertainly back at Clay and murmured, "We can do this later, if you want."

He shook his head tiredly and gestured to the table and chairs that sat at one end of the room. "Let's get it over with. Hannah, do you want to stay? Lord knows we've hit a dead-end."

Jamison smiled grimly and replied, "Well, that's part of the reason I'm here. I've hit some roadblocks of my own and I need some outside help."

Lora appropriated one of the chairs and sat down, one leg bent and resting on the seat while the other stretched out along the floor. "Let's talk about yours first then; I'm tired of thinking about kids."

"Well then maybe I shouldn't tell you at all," the colonel replied as she took the chair opposite Summerall.

Clay joined them at the table and scrubbed his face once before leaning his elbows on the tabletop. "What do you mean?"

"My roadblock is a child." She bit her lip slightly, her mind reviewing the scene in her head. "My assignment is to reacquire the joint US-Turkish encryption code that was stolen last week. I know which group has it, but when I went to steal it back, they had a child in their custody. It looked like they were moving him. The group's leader is known for using human shields to get his demands met..." She trailed off as she noticed the surprised faces of her counterparts. Hannah glanced between the two agents and asked, "What?"

Lora rose from her seat and dug through the bag she had carried in with her. "If you saw this child's picture, would you be able to identify him?"

"Sure," Hannah nodded. "I had night goggles on but the light was fairly good. What's going on?"

Summerall returned to the table and set the framed picture of Aaron Jeffries down. "Is this who you saw?"

"Yeah, that's the boy," Jamison answered, then, as awareness dawned, she cried, "Don't tell me he's <your> op!"

Clay nodded. "He's Ambassador Jeffries' son. Apparently he was kidnapped three days ago. The people that have him will trade him for the key to the joint US-Turkish encryption code. They've set the trade to be done at noon tomorrow...location is still to be determined..."

"Noon?" Jamison asked, her eyebrows raising with surprise. "That doesn't give us much time."

Summerall stared thoughtfully at the tabletop. "There's no way to stall the deal. And they've already said they'd kill the boy if Jeffries doesn't deliver the key..."
 
 

Hannah stifled a curse and rose without a word. Flipping out her cell phone, she pressed memory and 1 and waited for the other line to pick up. She mentally calculated the time difference and silently prayed Corelli had taken her phone with her to lunch. 

It rang two more times then she heard a muffled, "Hello."

"Admiral, we've got a bigger problem than we thought," Hannah stated tersely into the phone. Hearing only a long pause in response, the colonel's brow furrowed and she asked, "Admiral?" 

Something rustled in the background and, a second later, a loud crash resounded over the connection. Hannah winced slightly at the fumbling attempt to regain control of the obviously dropped phone. "Thank you, Matthew," Corelli spoke, her voice slightly muffled as if she were covering the receiver with her hand. "I will...um...'contact' you if your services are required further." 

Hannah sighed and shook her head. She didn't have to scan her CO to know that she had interrupted one of Corelli's highly classified "meetings" with someone on the Pentagon's staff. The colonel mentally rebuked herself even as she rolled her eyes with mirth at the woman's ultra-discreet encounters. It was Corelli's life after all, and Hannah wouldn't begrudge her an affair or two, especially after the years of service the other woman had dedicated to her country in lieu of a family. 

When the admiral returned to the phone, Hannah sobered instantly. Taking a few minutes to bring her CO up to speed, she outlined everything she, Lora, and Clay had pieced together.

Corelli's tinny voice echoed through the receiver. "Are you absolutely sure, Hannah? This could mean all kinds of hell if you are even remotely off-base."

The colonel nodded and answered, "Ma'am, as bad as it is to say. We're sure. What we need right now is your influence."

***

U.S. Ambassador's Residence 
Ankara, Turkey 
0849 ZULU

"Look, Ambassador. This is the only shot we've got." Hannah paced a winding path in the middle of the morning room and halted right in front of him. "That code <has> to be out of their hands. Even at the expense of your son. There's too much in the way of national security at stake." She watched his fear-stricken face pale to an even grayer shade and silently chastised her sharp tongue.

Shooting her counterpart a dark look, Lora smoothly interrupted, "But we have an option. A viable option that will not only retrieve the code, but your son as well." She bit her lip and gazed at him from under raised eyebrows. "I don't see that you have any other choice but to agree."

Jeffries closed his eyes as if trying to find the right answer. 'Patty,' he cried silently, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 'Help me out here. You know I want him back, but I don't want him dead...and this plan...it could go either way...."

Hannah and Clay shared quiet glance, asking and answering an unspoken question. She reached out with her mind and locked on to the ambassador's roiling emotions. Jamison mentally soothed his worries, allowing clarity of thought to remain without feelings to distract his logic. 

After a moment more of silence, he rested his hands on the table beside his mostly uneaten breakfast and stared out the window into the dawning horizon. "Ambassador?" Clay asked pointedly.

Jeffries nodded and murmured, "Let's do it."

***

Unknown location 
Forty miles outside Ankara, Turkey 
1038 ZULU

Hannah and Clay sat in a beat-up Jeep in the middle of a dusty expanse of land. Lora had stayed with Jeffries to help prep him for the exchange, which left the other two, much to their inward delight, to rendezvous with the courier. 

After a moment of easy silence, Clay chuckled. "This brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Hannah smiled in spite of herself and answered, "Well, as I recall, we were stuck in a sand storm..." 

"Yeah, but it was a helluva ride," Webb murmured, turning in his seat to brush his knuckles along her cheek. 

Hannah leaned into the caress and whispered, "That it was." They were silent, merely enjoying the brief interlude, then she spoke again. "You stole my heart long before that night, you know. There I was all ready to hate you on sight because I actually had to work with someone and you somehow slipped in without me knowing it."

The corners of his lips tilted upward as he murmured, "It's an old CIA trick. Distract them with words, then sneak in unnoticed." 

"Mmm..." she agreed, her eyes drifting closed as his fingers traced along the line of her brow. "You would have been a good magician."

"Who says I'm not?" Clay whispered as he drew his lips to hers. In an instant, fire consumed them, its magical allure pulling them further in, inexorably closer, like the proverbial moth. 

She pulled away after a long breathless moment and leaned her forehead against his. "I want this, Clay," she choked out. "I want this every day for the rest of our lives...I want it so bad that it hurts."

"Shh!" he gentled, placing soft kisses along her hairline. "Soon. We both have things that we still need to do." Clay pulled her eyes up to meet his and he swore, "But we'll get it. I promise you that."

And Hannah said the only thing she could: "I love you, Clay."

The raucous noise of a car horn interrupted anything he would have said, and in an instant, they had both refocused on the mission at hand. They shared a silent, telling glance before each opened his door and climbed out of the vehicle. 

A tall man whom Hannah recognized and Clay did not shut the door to his own car and walked toward them. As he approached, the man greeted, "Veni, vedi, vinci."

The colonel smiled and answered, "'I came, I saw, I conquered.' And now all is right with the world."

He chuckled. "I never figured Corelli for a Caesar fan!"

"She has her moments," Hannah replied and extended her hand. He took it and shook it once. "It's good to see you, John."

The courier's smile deepened as he remarked, "And you're looking beautiful as always."

Mentally feeling Clay bristle at the man's words, Hannah interjected, "How's Mary and the kids?" She sent a sidelong thought to her lover and soothed any remaining hurt away, easing his jealous reaction.

John's stance relaxed noticeably; his family was one of his favorite topics of conversation. "Dolly is just an angel and of course Mark is hell on wheels."

"Hmmm...wonder who he gets that from..." Hannah jokingly pondered. The other man joined her with a self-deprecating laugh.

After a glance at Clay, who was beginning to be irritated by the side conversation, John changed the subject. He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a mini-CD tightly sealed in a clear case. "I don't know how the hell she did it, but I'm betting Corelli pulled in some big markers. This should do the trick. It's programmed to work exactly like the real thing."

Webb nodded and took the case from him. "They won't be able to tell a difference?" he asked, flipping the item over and over.

John shrugged. "Not until it's too late."

"Good," Hannah replied, and glancing at her partner, continued, "then we need to get back. We only have an hour before the trade is supposed to go through." 

The three parted company without another word, professionals to the end.

*** 

U.S. Embassy 
Ankara, Turkey 
1127 ZULU

"Yes," Jeffries answered tersely into the phone. "I'll be there. Now can I <please> speak with my son!"

His only answer was a dial tone. 

He closed his eyes and settled the receiver back in its cradle. "The plaza in twenty minutes."

Lora rose from her seat across from the ambassador's desk and placed a soothing hand on his arm. "Everything's going to be fine. All you need to do is concentrate on the exchange and remember..."

He nodded with a sigh of frustration. "I know. I think I've been drilled in this enough."

Summerall glanced at her watch, inwardly fuming that Jamison and Webb hadn't returned from the pick-up yet. She gave them two more minutes before she and the ambassador left for the exchange. And if her partners hadn't shown by then, she figured she could wing it. With an inward cringe, she mentally counted how many bullets she had in her side-arm and ankle gun. It wouldn't be a pretty picture.

Just as she was about to usher the ambassador out of the room and on the way to the meeting, the office door opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Clay and Hannah. 

Jamison rolled her eyes, and excused, "The damn battery died on the way back. We had to double time it."

Summerall merely raised a doubting eyebrow, which Clay quickly discounted. "The Jeep's a couple miles outside the city limits. We caught a bus as soon as we made it into town." He ran a quick hand through hair in an attempt to smooth the ruffled strands. "Damn driver didn't want to stop here. Said it wasn't on his route," Clay muttered with a scowl.

Hannah shot Lora a bemused look and countered, "He's just irritated 'cause his CIA badge didn't have any pull."

The other woman smothered a smirk as her mind readily played out the image of Webb arguing with a Turkish bus driver, who, more than likely, barely spoke English.

"Look, I'm sure we'd all like to hear the whole story, but we only have 15 minutes until I get my son back," the ambassador interrupted with a quick slice of his hand through the air. 

Hannah glanced at her watch and muffled a curse, then grabbed Jeffries by the arm and rushed him out of the office. 

***

Ataturk Plaza 
Ankara, Turkey 
1159 ZULU

When the foursome arrived at the appointed location, Hannah suppressed an inward shudder and sent a silent prayer Heavenward. The plaza was packed with people from the surrounding offices enjoying their luncheon while the country's weather was still cool. Lora peered through crowd, her eyes absorbing every movement, oblivious to her counterpart's sudden unease. Clay locked his gaze with Hannah's and gave her a supportive smile. 

['Nothing's going to happen this time. I promise,' his eyes soothed.]

Jamison returned the gesture with a weak twitch of her lips and forced her mind away from the debacle of years ago. After a moment of silence, the ambassador announced, "There he is!" Four sets of eyes trained on a small boy about four yards away who stood beside a tall Turk.

The boy's captor grinned widely at the group and pulled his robe back a little to reveal the 9mm gun that was aimed at Aaron's head. Jeffries nodded, then closed his eyes, willing his mind to forget what it had just seen in the desperate hope that his son's frightened face wouldn't haunt his dreams in the nights to come. 

The ambassador moved a step closer just before Lora placed a staying hand on his arm. He looked back quickly at her and she whispered tersely, "Now remember what I told you."

Nodding, he answered, "'Don't say anything, don't respond to any threats, just get my son and go,' yes, Colonel, I know. I have done some negotiating before."

"Maybe so," interjected Webb, "but your son's life has never been the bargaining chip."

The ambassador shrugged with resignation and surreptitiously palmed the disc. Without another word, he began to walk toward his son. Two diners rose and blocked his path just as he was about to reach the Turk and Jeffries smothered the panic that rose within him. 'They want the disc; they aren't going to leave without it,' he told himself. 

Once the man and woman had moved, he continued a few more steps, then paused a couple of feet away. The Turk inclined his head with respect even as he tightened his grip on Aaron. 

"I have what you want. Do you have what I require in trade?" he asked with a mildly curious gaze.

Jeffries inclined his head and opened his palm. The silver disc glinted in the noonday sun, momentarily blinding the ambassador. Loosening his grip on the boy, the Turk reached over and shook hands with Jeffries, securing the disc before shoving Aaron toward his father. 

With an evil grin, he murmured, "It was a pleasure doing business with you," then stole away into the crowd. The ambassador blinked once with surprise and gazed down at his son. He heaved a sigh of relief as he pulled the boy to him. 

"Oh, Aaron!" he cried, tears filling his eyes.

The little boy clutched tightly at his father's waist, stammering out between broken sobs, "I'm so sorry, Dad. I'll never play by the fountain again. I promise!"

Jeffries knelt to the ground and clasped his son's shaking body even tighter, whispering soothing words of love.

At the other side of the plaza, Hannah sent a quick prayer of thanks up, grateful that this stand-off had ended on a much happier note than some of her previous ones. Clay grabbed her fingers and squeezed them, sending his silent acknowledgment of their success. 

"Well," Lora murmured, as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I think that settles it. Guys, we make a helluva team!" She grinned widely at her partners, who nodded in agreement.

They watched as the ambassador led Aaron back over, the little boy maintaining a fierce grip on his father's hand. "Son," he introduced, "this is Colonel Summerall, Colonel Jamison, and Mr. Webb. They helped me find you."

Wide, tremulous eyes silently absorbed each person as Aaron looked up at his rescuers. "Thank you," he murmured almost under his breath.

"Yes," Jeffries agreed, "thank you." He hugged his son closer to him and glanced at Jamison. "Well, Colonel, I'm sorry to say it, but you're mission was a failure."

Hannah grinned. "Not really, Mr. Ambassador. My job was to get the code out of the group's hands."

"But, I just gave them a key to unlock the encryption. How are you supposed to get it back now?"

The colonel's grin widened even more as she answered, "I don't."

***

Merit Altinel Hotel 
Ankara, Turkey 
Room 49 
1658 ZULU

Hannah reached across her lover's sleeping body and picked up the remote control from the night stand. With a click of the power button, the darkened room took on an eerie, bluish glow and she quickly flipped through the channels until she found ZNN. She eased back into Clay's arms and rested her head on his chest, her sated body molding to his. 

His warm, even breathing had almost lulled her back to sleep when a special news bulletin appeared on the screen. Scooting up a little so that she could get a better view of the anchor, she raised the volume. Clay stirred sleepily and popped open one eyelid, glancing around in confusion. 

"Wha-?" he asked, dragging a hand over his face.

"Shhh!" she chastised as she placed a quieting finger over his lips.

"This just in...." the anchor began with a somber edge to her voice. "A warehouse just on the outskirts of Ankara, Turkey, has mysteriously exploded. As reports come in, we are being told that there are at least five casualties. Fire crews that arrived on the scene managed to pull one man out of the burning building. He claims that the computer he and his friends were working on exploded, catching the entire building on fire.

He is currently in serious, but stable condition, and is being treated for severe second and third degree burns...."

Hannah lowered the volume as the anchor turned to another subject. The colonel kissed Clay softly on his chest and whispered, "Yes, it was a job well done."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, she chuckled. Webb's brow wrinkled as he pulled her closer to him. "What?"

Hannah shook her head and murmured, "I'm just wondering how much I owe Corelli now. Knowing her, she had the designer put a 'this disc will self-destruct in five seconds' warning into the program once it reached a critical point. The poor fools didn't have a chance."

Clay snorted as he rolled on top of her. "And this is a bad thing?" he asked, his leer--among other things--lending an obvious double entendre to his words.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mind to weave with his. "No, it's not a bad thing at all." 
 

END