RED HEAT - PT 4


4:00 AM, March 17th, Amsterdam, NL


The soft golden lights from the Inter Continental Hotel reflected in 
the slow rippling waves of the Amstel River. It was a chilly night 
and, oddly, in a city known for its nightlife, there was no one 
about, except for an old man, who was walking his dog and a newly wed 
couple sitting together on a bench next to the river.

The phone rang, waking Jim Henderson. He rubbed his eyes, trying to 
shake off his hangover. 

"What a night" He thought to himself as he
reached for the phone. "It's still night." Suddenly nauseous, he put 
the phone to his ear.

"Jim, you've been made. Get out of there NOW!" 

He sprang up from the bed, now completely sober and awake. He pulled 
on the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before, checked his 
gun for ammunition, slid it into his holster and ran next door to 
warn his partner. 

"Phil we gotta…"

The door opened as he knocked on it, revealing the blood covered body 
of Phil Settle his partner. He kneeled down beside him checking his 
pulse, realizing Phil had no idea who he was. Phil grabbed his arm 
to pull himself up.

Phil made a gurgling sound, trying to speak, as the blood gushed from 
his neck. Phil's eyes shifted to the doorway behind him and widened 
in horror. Jim turned just as the two muffled shots from the 
silenced pistol exploded the side of his head. The man stooped to 
pick up the shell casings before pulling an envelope from Jim's 
jacket pocket. He quickly checked Jim for anything else that might be 
of use, then exited.

11:00 PM, March 16th, Langley, Virginia

Harold Johnson, Deputy Director Operations, CIA, was reading quietly 
by the fireplace in his Virginia home. He was in his late forties, 
his hair was almost all white with only a few traces of black 
remaining. The white hair came with the job. He was casually 
sipping red wine from the glass on the table. The piercing tone of 
his desk phone startled his wife awake. Carolyn Johnson reached for 
the phone before realizing it was the other phone, his phone, which 
could only mean trouble at this time of night.

"Excuse me babe" He whispered pushing the on button on the phone.

"I'll be upstairs." She said picking up the magazine on the end 
table.

"DDO"

"Switch to secure line Gamma."

Harold entered his cipher key into the keypad on the phone. "This is 
Harold. What do you have John?"

"Director, Phalanx has been compromised."

"Again? How?"

"We're not sure yet. We've sent a driver for you?"

"Would you contact the FBI, I think this has become a matter for 
Homeland Security as well."

"Yes Sir."

Harold hung up the phone and went upstairs to change. Carolyn 
pretended to be asleep, so he wouldn't have to make an excuse. She 
knew he would be out all night.

11:37 PM, CIA Situation Room 402, Langley, Virginia

Five men sat around the long rectangular conference table. The room 
was underground in a hardened bunker. Although the decorators had 
done their best to make the place look warm and inviting, nothing 
could quite cover the coldness of being in a nuclear hardened bunker, 
twelve stories below ground. John Rodgers Senior Intelligence 
Analyst stood up to call the meeting to attention.

"Sorry for the late evening, but we have a problem. At the request 
of the DDO, we would like to welcome FBI Director Ronald Goldyn and 
Special Agent Peter Conrad, to this briefing." The three analysts 
nodded to the newcomers. John continued as the photos of the two 
dead agents appeared on the screen. 

"Last night, two more of our operatives were found murdered in their 
hotel rooms in Amsterdam. That brings us to a total of four agents 
killed in the last four months. According to the last report we 
received from Agent Henderson, he and Agent Settle had managed to 
make contact with one of Simanovich's upper level contacts." 

The picture changed to a photo of a tall gaunt man with jet-black 
hair and slightly receding hairline. Some sketchy biographical 
information appeared next to the picture. 

"This is Darius Simanovich. Here is what we know about this man. We 
believe him to be in his late forties to early fifties. He is of 
Lithuanian decent. His SVR profile indicates he is highly 
intelligent and motivated. He is a former Red Fleet sub captain. We 
know he is behind both incidents, but we have no evidence to 
positively link him. As before, our Cleaner teams found no evidence 
at either of the sites."

The picture changed to a photo of a Russian sub.

"Director Goldyn, Agent Conrad, In the interest of Homeland Security, 
you have been granted clearance for Operation Phalanx. What we are 
about to discuss is coded SCI. Last week, the Russian Typhoon class 
ballistic missile sub Dmitrij Donskoj was hi-jacked and we have 
information indicating the launch codes have been compromised."

"I thought they had disarmed their SLBM's", another analyst asked.

"According to the SVR, the warheads are inert, but given his history 
and experience, we have to assume he can re-arm them."

"What is his motive?" Ronald Goldyn asked.

"We killed his son." Rodgers paused for effect. "Or at least that 
is what he believes. He was the captain of a Soviet sub, which 
engaged and sunk two of our subs off the eastern seaboard in 1972. 
He lost his boat and most of his crew, including his son. He holds 
us responsible."

John Rodgers continued to explain. Peter took notes as he listened 
to the briefing. What he couldn't figure out, is why he was here. 
He had no experience in these types of things and he wasn't exactly 
at the top of anyone's list these days after the fiasco in the 
Caymen's.

"Director Goldyn, any city on the East Coast should be considered a 
target. The range of those missiles is twenty-three hundred miles. 
He doesn't even have to be close. The SVR is trying to confirm just 
how many missiles were aboard, but assuming the worst, figure six 
MIRV's for each of the twenty-four missiles, that's one hundred and 
forty-four possible targets. Our guess is that it will be a naval 
target possibly King's Bay or Norfolk."

"Our sub bases? Can't the Navy, either ours or theirs find it and 
sink it?" The annoying analyst asked again.

"They are trying, but soon after the hi-jacking, the ship disappeared 
from the Plot Room display in Northern Fleet Command. Some one 
removed the transponder. The Russians don't know where the ship is 
and neither do we. We have sortied every attack sub on the East 
Coast as well as the Reagan's ASW planes. We may get lucky and find 
it, but we can't afford to wait for that. We need to take Darius out 
and soon. So far all of our attempts have met with disaster. We 
need some options. We will meet again in twenty-four hours. We're 
adjourned." 

The group got up and after some post meeting chatter, began to leave 
the room.

"Peter, Director Goldyn, could you wait a moment please?" Harold 
Johnson called from behind them. "I'll catch up with you later John."

John nodded and left the room. The FBI agents sat back down at the 
table.

"Homeland Security is not the only reason I've asked you here. 
Peter, we need your help, specifically yours Peter." Harold 
continued.

"With all due respect, I'm not a Counterintelligence Agent. I 
specialize in kidnapping, negotiations and fraud investigations, this 
is over my head. I don't see what I could offer here."

"You're here, because we are out of options." Harold responded "We 
received a report from Agent Henderson earlier this evening, from 
what we can figure, about three hours before his death. His message 
contained information from a SVR agent who has infiltrated Darius' 
group. What I'm about to tell you, stays between us for now, not 
even my own people know about this yet. I and a few others suspect 
that he has someone on the inside here. His ability to sniff out our 
operatives so quickly can't be a coincidence. From what we know of 
his organization, it is mostly made up of women. I believe that 
another attempt to infiltrate his organization will only result in 
more dead agents. We need someone from the outside. I am hoping 
that you may know some people with the skills to help us."

Peter's face began to droop. Everything started to come back to him 
along with the realization of why he had been invited to this 
meeting. The week he had spent being held by Jill and those women 
had almost ruined his career, not to mention the humiliation. Peter 
was not the kind of man who liked being had and being betrayed by an 
agent who he trusted, made it even worse. Having to relive it in 
front of the Director made him nauseous.

"Peter. We need you to locate Ms. Hansen and set up a meet between 
her organization and the CIA?"

They still hadn't quite figured out how much damage Tammy and Jill 
had done to the FBI, nor had they been able to fully prove that they 
had any involvement with the hi-jacking of the ship. It had taken 
him six months of regression hypnosis, to even remember who Jill 
Hansen was. He finally was able to deal with what happened to him and 
this man wanted him to go back for more?

"Peter?" Harold spoke more firmly.

The robbery haunted him, but it was nothing compared to someone 
wiping out a city with a nuclear device. "I think I can find her."

"I wouldn't want to say that you were our only hope, but it's getting 
close to that. Do your best."

"We will meet again after Peter has made contact." Harold Johnson 
showed them to the lobby and headed back to his office.

Peter sat in his car feeling pretty dejected. He took his cell phone 
from his jacket pocket and called the only number he had for Jill 
Hansen. He started to feel even worse as he heard her voice, even 
though it was just voice mail. He left her a message asking if they 
could meet, then started his drive home. 

Peter stopped for gas and went inside to buy his dinner. He came 
back a few minutes later with a six-pack, a roll of toilet paper and 
some really scary pre-made sandwiches. He opened the door of his car 
and tossed the stuff into the passenger seat without even looking. 
He started the car and was about to put the car into gear. He 
checked the rear view mirror and saw Jill's face glaring back at him 
from the backseat.

"I told you what I'd do to you if you ever came looking for me."

"It's not…" He heard the puff of the tranquilizer gun and tried to 
pull out the dart before collapsing on the front seat.

He woke up bare naked with a nasty headache. He looked around for 
his clothes, but couldn't find them. He tried the door, but it was 
locked. He sat back on the bed and rubbed his forehead.

"It leaves you with a nasty headache doesn't it?" Jill Hansen, the 
twenty-eight year old, short brown haired, woman walked out of the 
next room wearing a black evening dress, holding his clothes in her 
arm. She tossed his pants at him and walked to her dressing table. 
She took off her necklace and set it on the table and started to 
undress.

"Jill, this is not a setup."

"I know, I checked, you're clean." She interrupted as she dropped 
her dress to the floor revealing her crotchless sheer body stocking, 
smiling as she glanced back at him. He looked down at the floor 
trying to ignore her as she grabbed a lotion bottle and squirted some 
lotion on her hands. She sat down beside him on the bed rubbing the 
lotion into her hands. Peter couldn't help being slightly aroused by 
her as she reached down and touched his arm. He pulled away 
remembering the humiliation he felt in the briefing. 

"Aw, you're not still upset about before are you?" She pouted leaning 
in really close to him. She reached down and touched his cock. For 
some reason he didn't pull away this time. "Do you want to catch up 
first, or just tell me why you're here?"

"I've been asked to ask you to set up a meet between…" 

The lotion felt warm on his cock.

"Cynthia?"

"Yes and the CIA." He stuttered as he responded to her massage.

"Why?"

"I don't know details."

"I'm going to have to try to find out what you know anyway?"

"I know." He said a slight smirk appearing on his face as his penis 
snapped to attention. She let out a small giggle and continued to 
rub cock.

"You've been looking forward to this haven't you?"

"I..No…" His cock began to tingle and burn. "What did you do?"

"I used the slow acting formula so we can have some fun before you 
take your nap."

"Why do you have to do this?"

"Because the path to your brain, like all men, runs through your 
dick. You control the dick, you control the brain. I know you 
probably feel pretty emasculated after what we did to you, so I'll 
tell you what. You can be the man this time." She lay back on the 
bed and spread her legs. "Come on." She said motioning with her 
finger. "It's not like you have much of a choice anyway."

Peter just gave in. She had gotten the best of him again and there 
was no point fighting it. But if it was going to happen, he'd might 
as well enjoy it. He climbed on top of her and began to thrust into 
her as hard as he could. His face was filled with a mild rage. 
Maybe he could at least cause her some pain. An evil smile came over 
her face as she gritted her teeth and moaned with each thrust. 

"Is that all you've got. Harder!" 

He had an intense look of determination on his face, but it slowly 
started to change as the lotion kicked in. She watched his face, 
enjoying his helplessness, knowing he couldn't stop even if he wanted 
to. Jill orgasmed with a loud scream and her muscles tightened down 
on him sending him over the edge. He barely pulled out of her in 
time before exploding all over her. 

Jill rolled out of the way as he fell forward onto the bed. "Tell me 
everything." She whispered into his ear as she lay beside him. 
After five minutes she knew every thing he did and picked up the 
phone beside the bed.

"I need to speak to Cynthia."

RED HEAT - PT 5


The black government sedan was completely out of place as it pulled 
into a parking spot underneath the red neon sign. The two agents got 
out and gave each other a puzzled glance. 

Rob Walker and James Simms pushed the beaded strings aside and walked 
over to the stage. It was dark and the colored lights reflected the 
smoke from the fog machines. The rhythmic beat of the music was so 
loud Rob could feel his pants legs moving. On stage was Erin, the 
twenty-three year old blonde. She wore a cowgirl hat, a flimsy white 
shirt, black leather chaps, black leather boots, and a white G-
String. She had silver pistols in each of her hands and was 
pretending to shoot the on-looking crowd as she danced. James 
pointed to the empty table next to the stage and they both sat down. 

A tall brown haired waitress in an extremely short skirt came up to 
take their order.

"What can I get you?" holding her drink tray at her side, with her 
hand on her hip.

"Water, for both of us." Rob answered.

"Yeah sure." She frowned back and walked away muttering to herself

Erin had stripped off everything but the chaps and G-string and was 
skillfully working the pole in the center of the stage. Every minute 
or so walking to the edges of the stage to collect money from the 
drooling men.

"Is that her?" James yelled into Rob's ear.

"Let's find out." He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and waved it 
up for Erin to see.

Erin ripped the chaps off in a single motion to the applause of the 
on-lookers, then crawled over to where the agents were sitting. She 
turned around so Rob could put the twenty into her G-string, then she 
rolled onto her back and pulled aside her G-string to give them a 
flash of her shaved pussy. Both agents were slightly aroused, but 
definitely in control. Erin winked at them then strutted to the back 
end of the stage where she handed the twenty to Lori, the six-foot-
two redhead, who was standing off stage at the lighting console.

Lori flipped the twenty over and read the scribbled note then picked 
up the red phone by the console and dialed Cynthia's office.

"Cynthia."

"They're here"

"Proceed as planned."

Lori hung up the phone and glanced at Erin. Erin held up two fingers 
and Lori nodded back. She slid her long painted fingernail across 
the console and pressed the button marked "T2." 

The centerpiece on the table hissed, barely audible over the music. 
A light mist sprayed, clouding the air. Rob noticed it too late, 
trying to cover his mouth. He glanced at James, who tried to back 
away before they both slowly slumped over onto the table.

Jenna, the twenty-nine-year-old brunette, weaved her way through the 
tables, catching the eye of a few patrons in her red leather 
hotpants, matching red leather top, and a black studded leather 
collar. The waitress met her at the table.

"Just this one." Jenna pointed to Rob. 

Rob woke up in a small room. His pants were balled up on the table 
next to him along with an empty syringe. His right shirtsleeve had 
been rolled up and his body was burning all over. Jenna was sitting 
on top of him, positioned to make just enough contact with his 
throbbing cock. He was burning up and extremely horny. The feel of 
her flesh and the leather grinding against his cock was breaking down 
any resistance he might have had.

"Why don't you tell me who you work for?"

"CIA"

"Details."

"I can only give details after..." Jenna stopped her motions and he 
began to breathe heavily, the warm sensations increasing.

"You'll give me whatever I ask for. No more until you answer the 
question."

"We need your help. I was told to meet my contact here." He let out a 
sigh as she started grinding him again.

"OK." Jenna stopped abruptly and got off of him. She walked over to 
the table. What ever she had given him made his cock burn, he 
couldn't take it anymore. He reached down to jerk himself off. She 
turned back around and gave him a disapproving stare. She shook her 
finger at him.

"Ooh, that's a naughty boy. Didn't anyone tell you that'll make you 
go blind?" She lifted the palm sized aerosol can and released a 
swirling cloud of pink gas into his face. His eyelids got heavy then 
closed.

He awoke fully dressed sitting at a large black circular table. On 
the other side sat Cynthia Conelly, the woman in charge. She was a 
thirty-six-year-old well-proportioned woman with short black hair and 
brown eyes. She was dressed in a skin-tight black rubber catsuit, 
which was partially unzipped. Next to her was Jenna, still dressed 
in red leather. Rob sat up quickly checking for his gun. Jenna 
laughed and set his weapon on the table.

"He's been checked for transmitters and other naughty things he 
shouldn't have. He's clean." Jenna reported to Cynthia.

"Good." Looking back at Rob "What did you want to talk about? You 
said you need our help?"

He struggled to get comfortable, which was difficult because he still 
had a raging hard-on. The drug hadn't worn off yet and all he could 
think about Jenna's ass, or maybe her and Cynthia together or maybe… 

"Pull it together honey." Cynthia said reading his body language.

Rob focussed and managed to get it out. "We lost two of our agents 
last week in Amsterdam. They were attempting to infiltrate a crime 
syndicate run by Darius Simanovich. We believe he is planning a 
major attack on our interests both here and overseas. All attempts 
to infiltrate his organization have failed. We believe we may have a 
mole."

"What makes you think we can help?"

"You have a reputation for being able to get men to do what you want."

"It's not that difficult." Jenna winked at him delighting in his 
discomfort.

"What's in it for us?"

"A chance to serve your country and save lives."

Cynthia started to stand up.

"And…" She stopped. "An immunity deal for you and your friends."

"Immunity for what?" Cynthia blasted back.

"Our friends at the FBI tell us that you may be in possession of a 
large sum of money that doesn't belong to you."

"That's a horrible accusation. Do you have any proof?"

"The FBI has a fairly strong case. But if you were to help us, we 
could guarantee no one would look any further."

"An interesting proposition. Give me forty-eight hours."

"Shall I come back here then?"

"Baby, in a few hours, you're not going to remember where "here" is. 
We'll find you." Jenna and Cynthia got up from the table. Cynthia 
whispered something to Jenna and Jenna spoke into her radio. "Where 
are my manners? You shelled out fifty dollars for a cover and you 
haven't even seen a single show. Since we don't like to leave our 
customers unsatisfied, how about a complimentary lap dance?"

Seconds later Beth and Christina Roberts, the blonde nineteen-year-
old twins arrived. 

"Follow me" Beth said leading him by his arm. They had just finished 
with their schoolgirl routine, a favorite at the club. Beth wore a 
red plaid skirt, thigh-high white stockings, black patent leather 
shoes and a see through white blouse. They led him into the Members 
Only Room, which was currently unoccupied.

"Sit." Beth pushing Rob down into the chair. She unbuttoned the 
shirt and let it fall open exposing her firm breasts. She began to 
rock her hips from side to side just barely making contact with his 
crotch. Christina darted her tongue in his ear and began whispering 
to him while Beth danced.

"You like my sister? I bet you'd like to fuck that ass wouldn't you?"

Beth turned around and pulled her skirt up revealing her white 
panties, which were riding up into her ass. Rob was about ready to 
burst. Christina continued to tongue his ear. Beth sat down on his 
lap facing away from him and rubbed her ass tightly against his 
crotch. Rob groaned and felt a warm wet sensation spread in his 
pants.

"I bet that felt soooo good…Soooo relaxing." Christina whispered in 
his ear. Rob started to feel extremely tired. Just as his eyes 
began to close, he became aware of why. Christina had uncapped a 
small tube and had been holding it under his nose with her other 
hand. 

Why hadn't he noticed that? He was better than this. The odor is…

"Sleep." And then it went black.


RED HEAT - PT 6


Jenna was perched on the roof of the office building directly across 
the street from the diner. A black sedan stopped in front of the 
diner. Agents Rob Walker and James Simms exited the sedan quickly 
checked the area, then motioned for Director Johnson to follow. 
Jenna trained her binoculars on the men as they entered the diner. 
She lingered on Rob Walker, thinking about his interrogation at the 
club. She kind of felt bad about what she did to him, which was very 
odd for her. Remorse was just something she didn't feel when it came 
to men. These men deserved what they got. It was her goal to make 
them feel just as helpless as she had when she… She shook her head 
and cleared those thoughts from her head and focussed on her job. 
She waited for them to go inside, then continued to scan the area for 
anything out of the ordinary.

Rob removed his black sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket on 
his jacket. He immediately noticed that the whole diner was empty. 
Christina Roberts pushed through the swinging door wearing a pink 
waitress uniform. As was the standard method of operation, the 
uniform had been modified to show off as much of her body as 
possible. Even Director Johnson was taken in by the sight of her 
smooth teen-aged legs as she sauntered up to the table. 

"What can I get you?" Christina asked. 

"I'll take a number six."

"And you?"

"The same for all of us." Harold responded. Christina walked back to 
the kitchen with a little extra swing in her hips. She loved the 
look of embarrassment she got when she caught men looking at her 
ass. Once in the kitchen, she radioed Cynthia that contact had been 
made. 

One of the waiters was conscious and had started to get up.

"Don't waste your effort." She said as she sprayed him with her 
aerosol can knocking him out again. She moved around to the rest of 
the diner employees and gave them each a blast just to make sure.

Up on the roof, Jenna made one last sweep with her binoculars. She 
smiled as she spotted the construction worker who was working on the 
traffic light.

"Beth, would you put the gentleman on the corner down for his nap 
please?"

"You got it." The static crackling as she spoke back over the radio.

Jenna watched from above as Beth Roberts rounded the corner in her 
navy blue spandex jogging suit. The unsuspecting agent, dressed in 
an orange vest, continued to pretend to work on the traffic light 
timing system. Beth adjusted her path to insure a collision. She 
slammed into him. The agent grabbed her trying to prevent their 
fall, but he ended up pulling her down on top of him. 

"I'm so sorry." Beth said sympathetically. "I didn't see you 
there." The stunned agent looked at his palms, examining the oily 
substance, which had rubbed off of Beth's jogging suit.

"That's alright. I'm…" The agent fell backwards making a dull thump 
as his head hit the sidewalk.

Beth searched through his pockets and found his badge.

"FBI" she said into her transmitter

FBI, no one mentioned this, it had to be a setup. Jenna immediately 
scanned again. There had to be more. She was right as she spotted 
the plain white box truck in the alley behind the diner.

"Lori, check that truck in the alley to your right. I believe you'll 
find an FBI surveillance team inside."

Lori, the ex-Marine, snuck up behind the van, careful not to be seen 
in the side mirrors. She was dressed in the standard skin-tight 
black rubber catsuit. Her mouth was covered with a half-face 
respirator and she wore a SCUBA like tank on her back, which 
connected to a silver wand. The sliding door snapped upward like a 
window shade catching the surveillance team by surprise. Lori 
depressed the trigger on the wand and sprayed the whole van down with 
pale blue gas. Everyone in the truck began to cough, followed by 
moans, then finally silence as they all succumbed to the gas. Lori 
let the gas clear then closed the door to the truck. Lori checked the 
surveillance monitors and located the other two agents who were 
across the street in the lobby of the building Jenna occupied.

"Jenna, there are four here, all FBI. You have two more unwanted 
guests below you in the lobby. "

"Roger that." Jenna switched to channel two. "Cindy, I think we've 
been setup. There are FBI agents outside. I am neutralizing the 
last two now."

Jenna exited the stairwell and made her way towards the lobby. She 
smiled at the male receptionist. He had seen her exit from the roof 
and he needed to be neutralized, which shouldn't be a problem 
considering he was already drooling. He couldn't stop staring at her.

"Take a picture it will last longer." She said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Actually there is." Jenna responded. He leaned closer to her to 
hear her request.

She unhooked one of her two atomizers from her belt and spritzed him 
in the face. He shot a load of cum into his pants and slowly 
collapsed behind the desk with a huge smile on his face.

"You can sleep and forget you ever saw me." 

Jenna turned her attention towards the two agents in the lobby. 
Sooner or later, they would figure out they had lost communication 
with the truck.

The agent on the left was watching the diner through his binoculars. 
He saw Cynthia walking towards the diner. The other agent was trying 
to relay the information to the truck on the radio.

"Echo leader, main target spotted." He paused. "Echo leader respond."

"Shhh, you'll wake them up." Jenna whispered unhooking her second 
atomizer, leaning between them.

Both agents turned to look at her. She held an atomizer up to each 
man's face and spritzed them both simultaneously. Both men came at 
about the same time and slowly slouched forward in their chairs. 
Jenna bit her lip as the tingling sensation built within her. She 
began to rub her hand against her crotch letting out a sigh as she 
surveyed her work. So much for remorse.

Christina, Cynthia, and Lori exited from the kitchen, followed 
shortly by Jenna. Cynthia pulled out the fourth chair and sat down 
while Jenna, Christina and Lori took up positions behind the men. 

"You set us up!"

"I don't know what you mean." James spoke.

"You've got fifteen seconds to explain why the FBI is outside or the 
deal's off."

Cynthia nodded at Christina who immediately spritzed James in the 
face. His hips involuntarily lurched. He had just a few seconds to 
notice the widening stain on the front of his pants before he passed 
out.

"Five seconds." Cynthia stated coldly.

"I assure you we had no idea why they are here. They must be 
operating independently." Harold frantically responded. 

"Let's find out what you know."

Jenna removed a syringe containing her special yellow liquid. She 
tapped the sides to clear the bubbles, squeezed a little out of the 
top and grabbed Harold's arm firmly.

"Cynthia please, his heart won't take that." Rob pleaded, vividly 
remembering his experience from the club. "We had no idea the FBI 
was here. If you need proof then do it to me."

"With pleasure." Jenna said, a mischievous smile broadening on her 
face. She moved over to Rob and was about to inject him when Cynthia 
stopped her.

"That won't be necessary."

"Who ever sent them did so with out authorization and will be dealt 
with accordingly, now can we get back to business. Just in case you 
have any doubts, I had the AG write this up. Here is your deal." 
Harold pulled a manila envelope from his briefcase and laid it on the 
table. "I have a written document signed by the President and the 
Attorney General, giving you immunity from the afore mentioned crime 
in exchange for your help on this matter." 

Cynthia opened the envelope and read through it. After a couple of 
minutes she passed the letter to Jenna and focussed her attention 
back on the two men.

"Satisfactory. Let's talk details. Someone can fill him in when he 
wakes up." 

"Before we start, is this room secure?" Harold asked.

"Completely." Jenna said draping herself around him and pressing her 
face against his cheek. She felt his heart start to beat faster.

Cynthia smiled and then nodded to Harold. They traded files and 
discussed the plans for the operation. 

"Here are my terms. I want access to all the intelligence you have 
on Darius Simanovich, plus access to real time satellite imagery 
during the operation. I will contact you when the job is done." 

"Unacceptable. I can't allow you access to our imaging systems. 
You'll have to take my people with you." Harold snapped back.

"We work alone." Cynthia responded, starting to get angry.

"Intelligence? Fine! You want satellite support, however, you take 
at least two of my people." Harold answered keeping his cool.

"Fine. These two then." She pointed to Rob and James.

"They don't have the training for the KH series."

"You better train them fast then." Cynthia nodded at Rob. "I like 
him. He seems to have his head on straight." Maybe not, but at 
least I can control him, she thought.

"OK Deal. Agent Walker, although I am giving you operational control 
of this mission from the CIA standpoint, you will follow her orders 
once in Amsterdam. Are we clear?"

"Yes Director." 

Cynthia and Harold shook hands, then Cynthia signed the immunity 
agreement. He left a copy with her and put the second copy back in 
his briefcase. Christina handed Cynthia her briefcase and she took 
out her operational plans.

"One of our operatives is setting up a meet with one of Simanovich's 
contacts as we speak. We'll need to change things a bit since we have 
these two. Our cover will be as follows: Agent Walker, 
congratulations, you and Jenna have just been married and are on your 
honeymoon. Sleeping Beauty here will use the same cover with Lori. 
We leave from New York tonight for Paris, once there we will travel 
to Amsterdam via rail. We will cover the rest of the details en-
route."

"That's more than I need to know. You work out the details as you 
see fit. I urge you to incorporate Agent Walkers expertise. Agent 
Walker will fill you in on the latest intelligence. I hope you are 
as good as your infamous reputation."

James lifted his head from the table and looked around trying to get 
his bearings. Rob helped him up and the three men left the diner.